On any given day … at any given time … if I am flipping through channels on the TV and I hear the “bah-bump” tone from the Law and Order theme song, I will immediately stop on that channel. It doesn’t matter what version it is – “Criminal Intent” … “SVU” … etc.; I will watch. I love TV dramas that highlight solving crimes and trying cases in a court of law. I make a great armchair lawyer! However, there was a period of a few years where that was not the case and I could not watch any such show as I had an inside peek as to what life was really like during a homicide investigation.
Sixteen years ago, a very close friend of mine was brutally murdered in her home. Kathleen Heisey was not only my friend but also my boss and principal of the school where I taught at that time. I had not known Kathleen for a long period of time but we became very good friends almost instantly. At the school where I taught, I had been the mentor teacher (an extra duty outside of my instructional day) when she was moved from the district’s continuation school to the elementary school. Given the enrollment and era, there were no other administrators assigned to our site, so I became her go-to girl in figuring out all things elementary as well as becoming her personal confidant – a status that we often kept well under the radar.
Kathleen had the unique ability to bring out the best in any person – from a small child to a grown adult. Professionally, I learned what it meant to be an instructional leader from her and how the focus always has to be on the kids and not the adults. At that point in my career, I had not really given much thought about leaving the classroom and doing anything else outside of teaching, especially delving into school administration. One of my first tasks as the mentor teacher under Kathleen was to set up some desktop computers that had been purchased with class size reduction monies. As I had an interest in technology and computers back then and I had a title and time that could match the task, this duty was added to my list. The first problem I faced during this set up was that I quickly realized that the video cards for the computers had not been installed in the factory so it would be my job to remove the case and seat the cards into the hard drive. I had not opened a computer up before in my life! I was frightened! “I can’t do that!,” I lamented. “What is your worst fear?”, she asked. “Ummm, I might break the computer!”, I replied. “Well, if you break the computer, I will just buy another one. Here is a screwdriver, now get busy!”. And, while she was watching I gingerly removed each screw, lifted the case, inserted the video card, put everything back in place, hooked up the wires … and … Presto! … When I turned on the computer and monitor, the DOS screen appeared and whirled through its routine of numbers and letters. Success!
This was just one example amongst countless of our interchanges where she truly mentored and guided me. And, it was not just myself; I witnessed similar interactions between her and others throughout our time at Browning Road.
On July 1, 1998 she was discovered in her home, brutally murdered. Today … Sixteen years later, this crime is still categorized as “unsolved”. I had spent the previous Friday with her on a shopping spree to buy school materials before the end of the fiscal year, June 30th. We had a great time, buying all sorts of books and other resources. One of my last, fondest memories of her was sitting at McDonald’s with my three kids (who were in tow for the shopping trip and were ages 6, 4 and 2). They were tired and cranky after hours of in and out of the car and in and out various stores where they heard the word, “no”, almost every two minutes, so Kathleen sprang for the Happy Meals, including one for herself. Instantly, the kids quickly forgot all about being hauled around from place to place. The prizes at the time were wind-up toys commemorating the Disney movie, Mulan. She was right in the middle with them, laughing and playing along, quickly rewinding each toy when it slowed down or stopped. She adored my kids and they adored her; I am saddened that she never had the opportunity to meet her own grandchildren.
The day before she was discovered I had called her home phone. I was at Browning Road, leading a computer training for Migrant Education teachers, and I noticed that her car was not in the school parking lot. She had told me that she was going to be at school that afternoon and I didn’t need to worry about locking the gate. Locks on gates were relatively new concepts back then. All the teachers had left and I was left alone in the parking lot, staring at the empty space where she always parked. I had a nice, modern-for-the-time flip phone and dialed her number. The answering machine picked up. “Kathleen … are you there?? I am at the school and I don’t see your car. Did you decide not to come out to school? Hellooo?.” BEEEEP. No answer.
The next day, we all heard the news that was impossible to believe. Immediately, some of us began talking to homicide detectives. I quickly learned that “Lenny” and his partner (whoever the current handsome guy is under contract) do things the Hollywood way, solving crimes in an hour and taking notes on small little note pads. In reality, you are asked questions, documented on the computer, asked questions again. Then, your words are read back to you. Again … and again … And you sign each statement that what you said is true and factual. And you wait … and wait … And you live in fear that you may be next because of what you may know … or have heard … and you wait some more …
It has been sixteen years since I have seen the smile on my friend’s face, heard her laughter, or had one of our deep, revealing conversations. Currently, I am only four years removed from her age when she was killed. At the time, one of her children had recently moved away to Washington State and her son was in college; similar situation I find myself, currently, with the three children who were at one time long ago playing with Happy Meal toys with Kathleen. Now divorced, I am in a similar life position as she was at the time and I see things with a different perspective than I did back then.
I hope someday the mystery is solved and the person who committed this crime is brought to justice. My heart goes out to all of those survivors who called Kathleen “mom”, “sister”, “friend”, “principal”, etc. The list goes on and on. At her memorial service, one of the songs played was Green Day’s, Good Riddance /“Time of your Life”. Interpreting the song more literally than sarcastically, I often associate the song with Kathleen because of that fact. It’s something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.
I miss you, friend!!!!!
Two freeways diverged ... 