If you've been reading
this site for any length of time, I have one question for you: Who
do you
trust? If you feel like you don't have enough information to make
a real decision, then you understand my dilemma. The difference
between you and me, however, is that while you may read this web site
for a voyeuristic pleasure, I am reading to learn why my sister was
murdered and to find out what type of friends and acquaintances she
had. In doing so, I find myself stuck on the front lines of a
battle of opinions, half-truths, and facts with little or no supportive
evidence to back them up. To this point, I am left with one
conclusion.
I don't trust a single
one of them. At least not yet. I have good reason to hold
fast to this conclusion. If you see it from my perspective, I
expect you will understand.
In the middle of June
2000 I received a phone call from Raychel. That sentence
understates the impact it had on me. I hadn't spoken to her in
years but that was not my choice.
On July 6, 1990, Raychel
walked off the family farm and never returned, wrote, or (to my
knowledge) spoke with our parents again. Since Raychel was over
18, there was no legal reason for them to pursue her. I doubt they
would have searched for her anyway. During this time I was away at
law school, so we never had the opportunity to talk about her
decision. But I understood what she had been through. I
expected that Raychel would turn up on my doorstep and ask to stay with
me. I would have done it instantly. A few days went by and I
became worried for her safety on her trip. Days went to weeks
without so much as a phone call. I called the local police to see
if anyone had seen someone matching her description. While I did
receive some calls, my sister was not one of the people brought
in. After two months went by, I understood what had transpired
between the two of us. Raychel had cut me out of her life in the
same manner as our parents. No words. No good-bye. In
retrospect, I believe I understood why. I had set the trend.
I had left her alone in the house with our parents while I went on to
pursue my own goals. She was just following my pattern.
So now maybe you
understand how I felt when I heard my baby sister on the other end of
the phone.
"Is it true?
Are they both dead?," she asked.
It was. Our mother
had died less than a year after Raychel left the farm. Our father,
however, had died the previous week. I asked her how she knew, if
she had tried to contact them recently, but she wouldn't tell me.
That set the pace for the rest of our conversation. It was just a
series of painful memories briefly revisited, then dropped for another
one, all the while searching for that one memory that would make us both
laugh. It wasn't there. At least not that first time.
But we were able to catch up on each other's lives, at least in a
cursory manner. After a few hours we hung up, agreeing to call
each other again to talk more.
|
"No
one had told me that Raychel had been married! . . . Even more
shocking was the fact that he did not identify himself as Raychel's
husband when we spoke on the phone." |
In the brief time we had
together again, I felt that I was beginning to know my sister as who she
had become and not as the person I remembered. That feeling was
too short lived. I received the call from Laura Douglass on August
18 that Raychel had been brutally murdered at Kyle McAllister's
apartment. There weren't many details and the police were
investigating.
I had regained my sister
for a little over two months and this was how it ended up. A
funeral. Laura asked to help me with Raychel's arrangements.
It would have been a much more difficult experience to go through
without her assistance. In the future, perhaps I will tell you
more about the wake and funeral. Actually, I think it is
necessary. However, it is not necessary at this time.
In February of this year
I received a call from Lance Wagner, who asked me to contribute articles
and photographs of Raychel for his "living memorial" to
Raychel. When he gave me the URL, I was shocked. No one had
told me that Raychel had been married! Yet there it was on every
page: "A Living Memorial to My Wife by Lance Wagner."
Even more shocking was the fact that he did not identify himself as
Raychel's husband when we spoke on the phone. My internal radar
went off immediately. Something very wrong was going on with my
sister's memory. I decided to keep Lance just close enough to
monitor his work, but far enough to keep from participating in what may
have been a fraudulent memorial. Had I contributed early in the
development of the site, I would have given Lance's story
credibility. While I have no hard evidence to prove that Lance and
Raychel were never married, I have yet to receive any substantial proof
from Lance about his claim.
Within a week after my
call from Lance Wagner, I received a call from Laura Douglass. She
had also been asked to contribute to the site. She stated her
doubts about the legitimacy of the site (and Lance's marriage
claim). I told her I agreed with her. I told her of my plan
to keep Lance at arm's length. She told me that she wanted to
involve one more person, but needed to gain Lance's trust to involve her
friend, Ken Kincaid. Again, my radar went up. Fighting
subterfuge with subterfuge did not appeal to me. Luckily, I was
not required to actively participate in this effort. I did,
however, learn (from Laura herself) that I was unable to trust Laura
Douglass. In addition, the less than subtle allegations about her
drug use seem to explain her behavior at times.
I would like to also take
this opportunity to thank Ken Kincaid for his efforts in opening the
participation of the site to everyone who knew Raychel. I believe
that your efforts will lead to this site becoming a true open memorial
to Raychel. However, that being said, I have three things to say
about you. 1) I do not know you. 2) I do not trust
you. 3) I do not like you. If that last line stings, re-read
your articles, remember why you are on this site, and apologize for your
insensitive (and perhaps inaccurate) comments.
I have had little
interaction with Sharon Wolfe, but I believe that Lance Wagner has asked
the best question that deserves to be answered: If your protection
as a bodyguard is (as you yourself described) 24x7, then how did Raychel
die? Until I receive a satisfactory answer to that question, I
can't trust you, either.
To anyone who reads this
article: If you don't trust me, I understand. Moreover, I
respect you.
