I was home. Up late, 1:00 am, and watching tv with my dog, Amber. The doorbell rang. Amber woke up and looked up from her bed. I looked at her and said, "Who could that be? Chrissie must have forgotten his key." The moment is etched in my mind forever. As I am sure it is for all of us.
I went to the door. To my surprise, two police officers were standing there along with my next door neighbor. They asked to come in. For some reason, Amber was unusually quiet and not barking as I complied with their request to and let them in.
The officer, a sergeant, got right to the point. He said they were there about my son, Chris. I became alarmed. I said, "He must have been in a bad accident for you to be here. Can you take me to him?"
The sergeant responded. "No, M'am. Your son is dead. He shot himself. He was in Richland Township, PA." I had to sit down. I responded, "Oh no. That's not possible. He has dyslexia. He couldn't load a gun. He would shoot himself in the foot."
The officer continued. "Apparently he took his own life. He shot himself in the chest." I responded, "Oh no! He wouldn't do that. He was going through some things, but he promised me he would not take his own life. He was depressed because he was breaking up with a young woman. But he promised me he would not harm himself."
The sergeant asked to use my phone. He called the medical examiner for for Richland Township PA. He gave me the phone. The medical examiner spoke with me. He said he ruled Chris' death a "suicide." He cautioned me that I should not blame myself and I should try my best to "get over it," He was an elderly man by the sound of his voice. I thought to myself, "What kind of crazy old coot is this? Just like that he ruled his death a suicide." I was immediately suspicious of this young woman's father's strong political influence. He was Mayor of a neighboring large city, a former coal miners union official who brought jobs and industry to the city after the coal mines closed. He was revered in that area of the state and very influential. The police called my priest and my late husband's cousins. They came. So far I had not fallen apart. I had too many questions.
As the days unfolded, many things came to light especially after the medical examiner burned Chris' clothes without permission of the police. The funeral director told me Chris had a bump on top of his head. That Chris had already been embalmed which I had not given permission for. No further forensic exam could be done. Hmm.
I spoke a few days later to the detective assigned to Chris' case. He told me two rounds were fired from the gun. Only one entered Chris' chest and there was no exit wound. The other bullet and shell casings were not found at the scene. The young woman said she barely knew Chris. She had lent him some money and he had come to her home to pay her back.
She was an instructor at the state vo-tech school Chris was attending to learn the printing trade because he had a learning disability. He took Ritalin for ADD. Every student in the school was considered as having a disability. So fraternizing between students and faculty members was strictly forbidden. It was cause for dismissal. She knew she was in trouble, and more importantly, so did her father. None of this incident was good for him politically so he kept the whole incident out of the press, broadcast media and off the internet. Like I said very influential.
He is 83 years old now. Retired to Florida. The medical examiner is long gone. I hope they rot in hell along with the county solicitor. He blocked the local police from any further investigation by refusing to consider any other cause of death other than suicide. Even though I had given the detective copies of all the love notes, cards and letters she had given Chris.
I was six hours away. My late husband's family believed Chris committed suicide. This included his cousin, our lawyer. He was concerned if I went after this young woman, she could sue me for defamation. My aching head. On top of all this, my husband was terminally ill and in a nursing home. With the help of his sister and my niece, we broke the news to him. He reacted better than I thought. Still, I was concerned.
After the funeral service and burial, he asked me to take him to the cemetery. I did. Because he asked, I told him where Chris was buried. Where I would be buried and he would be buried. I knew then, it would not be long. I had a sense he had come to peace with the inevitability of his own death and at peace with Chris' death. I told Chris, as I held his hand prior to the viewing, his job was to bring Dad home and he did. Six weeks after Chris died, my late husband, Fred died. And there I was alone with my dog.
I consulted lawyers, private investigators with no luck in pursuing the truth of what really happened with Chris. He has never gotten justice. I still have faith that in exchange for a legal favor someone will some day come forward to the police with the truth about Chris' death. I think he was shot by a police officer her father sent to the daughter's house in order to shake things up. So a break-up with this young woman would happen. I think she and her father set a trap for Chris, but things went horribly wrong.
I am sure all of you have an equally heartbreaking experience surrounding the death of your child. Like me, every detail will forever remain with you. Chris died in 1999. Here it is 2025 and I remember it clear as yesterday all those years ago. And that is okay. I have happy memories that remain with me as well. I pray for peace and strength for all of us.
"Leave your troubles with the Lord, and He will defend you." Psalm 55: 22
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Love, Rosemarie
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