Lisa, your life now is a series of papers, photographs, newspaper clippings. First, your birth certificate, followed by pictures of a beautiful little girl with big brown eyes peeking out from under brim of a pink bonnet. Your report cards, showing already your drive to earn good grades. The pictures of you in your lacy first communion dress and veil, then your chubby pre-teen years. Then your marriage license.
Now the copies of police reports amidst the birth certificates of your beautiful daughters. So many police reports. Your application for the work study- program, scholarship, preparations for earning your degrees at university. Your divorce papers. More police reports. Restraining orders, the copy of "Who's Who In American Colleges". with your name in it.
Your pink name card from your position at the Elkhart Womens' Shelter. Finally, your death certificate. It describes in graphic detail the atrocities inflicted on your head and body from the butt end of a shotgun on your little defenseless body that led to your death.
I can only do all that I can for your children and for as many women as I can.
I must let you know somehow, Lisa, how terribly embarrassed, ashamed, and sorry that in spite of your strength, spirit, determination and pain, the system chose indifference,
Know that your spirit lives on.