Murder, Motherhood, and Miraculous Grace

by Debra Moerke

  The other children were settled in their own lives. Sadie had graduated from the University of Wyoming and was living in Laramie. Jason had returned from Germany to complete his education and was accepted into the flight school program in Wichita Falls, Texas. Elizabeth had married a wonderful guy, Wes, and was living in Atlanta, Georgia. Finally, Al and I were on our way home to Casper. Everything seemed to be working out perfectly.

  As Courtney and I drove to Wyoming, I was surprised by the waves of anxiety rising within my chest. Our decision to return to Casper stirred up pain and fear. In Surprise, Courtney and our family had been protected from the story, speculation, and rumors. Did potential turmoil await us in Casper? Would people remember the murder case? Were we about to head back into the line of fire, or had Casper moved on? When people saw Courtney with me, would they question me about the adoption, Karen, or Hannah? Would Courtney be followed by gossip about her birth mother’s crime? We hadn’t thought much about what we would face once we arrived.

  I wrote to Karen to tell her about our return. Happy to know we would be closer and I could visit more often, she asked if her family was going to be notified and be able to see Courtney. I told her we would wait until Courtney was older and she could make that decision for herself. I longed for Courtney to grow up as a normal, healthy child without having to be caught up in the tragedy that her biological siblings had experienced years before. I would have to explain that to Karen’s parents and hope they understood.

  Within a week I had registered Courtney for kindergarten, then started my new job at the Natrona County Detention Center, where I’d served as a chaplain and had visited Karen. Adjusting to working twelve-hour days after the eight-hour shifts I worked in Arizona left me exhausted. I had to depend on Chris and Helen to help with Courtney. I contacted Starla, our former babysitter, letting her know we’d moved back to Casper and asking if she had room in her day care for Courtney after school. She welcomed her back with enthusiasm.

  Everything seemed to be working out until they scheduled me to work graveyard shifts, allowing me little time to be with Courtney. My being gone evenings and nights left her confused and sad. It seemed that my new position with the sheriff’s office had added unforeseen stressors to our family’s life.

  I did, however, find a little house for us to rent. Then good news arrived. Al had sold the house in Arizona!

  December came quickly. Our house in Surprise closed, and Al and Charles drove from Arizona to Casper. Helen and Sadie joined us for a traditional Moerke Christmas, complete with snow and a fir tree decorated with lights and our old-fashioned ornaments. We all felt we were truly home again.

  While in college, Helen had been dating a wonderful young man named Matt. He came to our home to spend a few days with us and asked for Helen’s hand in marriage—to which we gave our full blessing. After a yearlong engagement, they planned to marry in July of 2006.

  Months before the big day, I stopped at the wedding shop where Helen had bought her dress to make a quick payment on the flower girl dress. Seven-year-old Courtney was standing next to me at the counter when I heard someone call my name. I looked around to see DeAnn, Karen’s oldest daughter. Surprised to see her after so many years, I gave her a hug. She had grown up into a pretty young woman who was getting married as well.

  We chatted for a moment when, suddenly, she moved closer to Courtney and said, “Hi, Courtney, do you know who I am?”

  I gently moved Courtney behind me and leaned toward DeAnn, shaking my head to get her to stop talking. “No. She doesn’t know, and this is not the time or place to share that information,” I said quietly.

  I was shocked that DeAnn had approached Courtney like she did. I knew DeAnn was young and wanted to know the biological sibling she had missed growing up with, but Courtney knew nothing more than that she had been adopted. Although she knew I would answer any questions about her adoption, she hadn’t asked many. I had not mentioned to Courtney that she had any other siblings, and the wedding shop was not the time or place to introduce a biological sister.

  DeAnn appeared upset. She stepped back with a startled look and simply said, “Okay.”

  Days later, DeAnn called me. She asked why we wouldn’t let the family be in Courtney’s life. Why couldn’t they get to know her?

  I tried, as kindly as I could, to explain that we needed to protect Courtney from things she wasn’t old enough to understand.

  “There isn’t anyone here who wants to hurt her,” DeAnn said.

  “I realize that none of you would hurt her physically. But she is too young to know the whole tragic story of her family history.”

  I knew that if she were united with family in Casper, someone would share the horrible truth with her. Courtney had been shielded from the harsh reality of her mother’s crime. I begged DeAnn to give Courtney time to grow up before she learned about her biological family.

  I felt bad for DeAnn. She told me that she and her grandparents didn’t understand, but they would respect our wishes.

  While we still lived at the rental house, the city hired Al for his old position at the Casper Events Center and we celebrated. I resigned from the sheriff’s office and enrolled in real estate school with Chris. We loved being back in Casper with close friends and our church family, though living there did give me reason to look over my shoulder everywhere we went. I didn’t want another meeting like the one at the wedding shop.

  That same spring Courtney and her little girlfriend from next door were playing on the sidewalk. When I looked out later to check on them, I saw four children I hadn’t seen before talking with the girls. Two of the children looked familiar to me, and when Courtney came into the house for dinner, I asked whom she had been talking to.

  “They live four houses down from us. They asked me what my name was and when I told them, they asked me my last name. Then they asked if you knew their mom. Her name is Renee.”

  Shrugging her shoulders as if to say, I don’t know why, she sat down at the table to eat and didn’t say anything more about the new playmates.

  Renee—Karen’s former friend. She was the one who’d asked me to take care of Karen’s belongings. I fought to keep calm and not change my tone or expression. Now I knew who two of the children were. Renee had adopted Ally and Steven, Karen’s youngest. All the time I spent looking over my shoulder at the mall and grocery stores, and two of the Bower children were living four doors down from us! It was time to move.

  I told Al what had happened, and we went house shopping immediately. Within a few weeks we found the home we live in today.

  Helen and Matt married that summer of 2006, and Courtney served as a flower girl as she had in our daughter Elizabeth’s wedding. The newlyweds settled into their little home in Green River, Wyoming, three hours southwest of us. Chris and I started our real estate business. I liked the flexible hours that allowed me to pick up Courtney and go to her school events and programs. With Chris as a partner, I could rest assured that business would be taken care of. Life back in Casper was turning out beautifully.

  Over the next few years, we never seemed to run into any of Karen’s family in town. Finally, I began to relax in public.

  One evening, Al, Courtney (now ten years old), and I were dining at a restaurant with friends. During our meal, Courtney asked to go to the restroom. It was close by, so I let her go by herself. When she returned, she looked pale and stayed quiet for the rest of dinner. I asked if she felt okay, and she said yes.

  That night, Courtney began to cry as I tucked her into bed and was about to start our bedtime prayers.

  “Why are you crying?” I wrapped my arms around her. “What’s wrong? Tell me what you are thinking.”

  “I’m scared. I didn’t want to talk to her. I just wanted to leave and go back to the table with you.”

  “Who are you talking about?” I asked.

  “When I went into the bathroom, a lady came up to me and said she was my sister.”

  “What d
id the lady look like?”

  When Courtney described her, I knew it was DeAnn. Anger burned in my heart as I remembered the incident at the wedding shop. When she and I talked on the phone afterward, DeAnn had agreed to get our approval before saying anything to Courtney. She must have been at the restaurant and followed Courtney into the restroom.

  “Does she know where we live? What if she comes to our house and breaks in?” Courtney continued to sob and asked for me to sleep with her that night. I had lost all confidence in DeAnn’s promise not to approach Courtney without our permission. I knew I needed to do something. I thought of the agent in our office who was also an attorney and decided I needed to call her.

  She advised going forward with a court hearing seeking a ruling to keep DeAnn from approaching Courtney again. I felt empathy for DeAnn. I had no idea of the trauma she had suffered before and after her mother’s crime. But she was now an adult and was trying to initiate a reunion with Courtney before Courtney was ready. DeAnn had to know we were serious about protecting our daughter.

  DeAnn was summoned, and she and I went before a judge.

  The judge was compassionate toward our situation and though he was kind in hearing out DeAnn’s desire to know her sibling, he reminded her that she needed to honor our wishes. Courtney was our daughter, and DeAnn could not force a relationship on a young child without her parents’ permission. DeAnn agreed to stay away and not approach Courtney until we invited her to do so.

  On my next visit to Karen, I explained what had happened and talked with her about the reasons Courtney needed to be kept separate from her biological family until the right time. Fortunately, we had built a relationship of trust—a trust that allowed us to openly share our hearts about our families and what was best for Courtney.

  I visited Karen at the prison at least once a year, sometimes more. We had developed a routine for our conversations. First, we talked about what was going on in her life in prison. It was getting better for Karen once she stopped getting into trouble. In her earlier prison years her anger, attitude, and tongue would get her sent into lockdown or moved to an area where she had little contact with others. Though it took a number of years, I began to see softness in Karen as well as maturity. She realized that she was doing herself no favors fighting with others and trying to be in control. At one point, she suffered deep depression and didn’t want to live anymore. Counseling, praying, and reading the Bible were her only hope. She and I talked about stories in the Bible and prayed God would teach her and continue to change her heart as she looked to him to guide her life.

  At times we discussed prison administration changes. New wardens meant new policies that affected many areas of her life. After talking about policies, administrators, and the different jobs Karen worked, we moved to reports about family members. Karen knew little about how her children were doing. Few people communicated with her, and the people who had adopted her children did not want any communication. Karen got some details from her parents in occasional phone calls with them. Of course, I kept her up-to-date on Courtney’s life through my visits and the photos and letters I sent.

  After we had exhausted all the information, I would ask Karen how she was doing with the Lord. She shared times of wrestling with him and asked questions about what certain verses meant or asked me to explain some of the history in the Bible. She also shared things she was learning in the Bible studies she attended. She could see that some fellow inmates were allowing God to change them while others were not ready to give up control of their lives to the Savior. Karen was growing and changing. She was not the same person I had known years before. She could see that God loved her even though she had taken the life of her child. As always, we cried together. But the tears we shared were expressing thankfulness and gratitude for what God was doing in both of our hearts.

  The one statement she made to me while visiting one summer, reflected not only who she was becoming but also the miracle of the Holy Spirit’s work in her heart. She said, “I would rather be in prison for life with Jesus than living my life in Casper without him.”

  Chapter 27Freedom

  AS TECHNOLOGY ADVANCED through the years, communication with Karen increased. For a time, she could call and leave a message at my real estate office. Then along came cell phones. If I couldn’t answer, she would leave a voice mail telling me when she could call next. We had a system, and it worked well for us.

  One day in 2011, Karen called me in tears, asking if I’d come visit. Her oldest son, Kyle, had died in a motorcycle accident. He was only twenty-one. I hadn’t seen him since he was a little boy. His life cut short brought another tragedy to the Bower family.

  I went to see her a few days later. Tears streamed down both of our faces as Karen shared the information she had received from her parents. Once again, she would not be able to attend one of her children’s funerals. The talk of loss and heartache brought Karen to a place of sober personal reflection and spiritual inventory.

  “I have cried and thought a lot about Kyle dying before I was able to see him again. He was so young when I went to prison. I’d hoped that once he was grown, he would come to visit me. He never did. Now he’s gone. All I can do is pray that he knew Jesus and that he is in heaven with God.”

  I handed her a wad of tissues from a box on the table, then took one for myself.

  “From what I heard years ago,” I said, “the family who adopted Kyle and Kyra are Christians. I believe they were raised in a Christian home. So it’s likely that Jesus made himself known to Kyle. We can only pray that Kyle came to know Jesus and is with him now.” I didn’t want to sound preachy, but I did want to give her hope.

  “With all this happening, there is something I’ve wanted to talk to you about,” Karen said as she blotted her tears with tissues.

  I scooted my chair a little closer so others couldn’t hear. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she had to say. Was there more bad news? Was she going to confess to something she hadn’t before?

  “What is it?” I asked, in spite of my reservations.

  “Since I heard of Kyle’s death, I wondered if I would see him in heaven. I wondered if he would know me and if he has seen Hannah.”

  It was the first time she’d ever mentioned Hannah by name since her confession to me thirteen years ago. In a rush of awe, I thanked God for the miraculous changes in this woman since that horrendous day. I remembered how emotionless she’d been as she’d recounted her vicious attack on that precious child and marveled now at the tender, spiritually searching believer who sat before me. I smiled as fresh tears filled my eyes. Tears of hope. Tears of joy. Tears filled with the good news and promises of Jesus.

  “If the Word of God is true, and I believe it is, Hannah and Kyle have already embraced in heaven. If you believe the Bible is God’s Word, you can have peace in his promises.” I reached over and rested my hand on Karen’s arm.

  “I want to believe,” she said. “I want to believe that Kyle has forgiven me for all I did—especially for Hannah’s death. What I did broke up our whole family and caused all my children to be separated and raised by different families. It caused them to be angry and to hate.”

  I shook my head and said, “God knew you and your children were in a bad place before Hannah’s death. If God had not intervened, there would have been more abuse and you would have continued down the same road, if not worse. I believe the night Hannah died, Jesus, in his grace, took her home with him the moment she breathed her last breath. He loves her. He loves Kyle, and . . . he loves you.”

  “Do you really believe that?” There was such hope in her voice.

  “Yes. God does not lie. He is truth, and so he is true to his Word.”

  “I have something more to ask you. It’s about forgiveness,” Karen said.

  “Forgiveness? We haven’t talked much about that.”

  “I want you to know I did ask God to forgive me for taking Hannah’s life.”

  A wave of joy swept through
me, and my heart leapt.

  “And do you believe he has forgiven you?”

  “Yes. I do.” She answered with conviction. “I asked Hannah to forgive me as well.”

  “And do you believe she has?”

  “Yes.” Karen’s eyes, now dried from her tears, glistened, a soft smile gracing her face.

  “That’s wonderful to hear. It has taken many years for you to come to this place. Do you have some sense of peace now?”

  “I do. And . . . I asked my parents for forgiveness as well.”

  “What did they say?”

  “My mother said yes, she forgave me, though it took her a long time to be able to do so. My father said, ‘It’s in the past now.’ I think that’s his way of forgiving me. I’m not sure. He never used the word forgive. I still have to ask forgiveness from my other children though. That may take longer. They have a lot to work out in their hearts. I believe God has told me that will come in time. I’ll have to wait and see.”

  “God has been working on your heart for the past thirteen years. I am so happy for you. God is good. He will never leave you nor forsake you. You are experiencing the power of forgiveness. It frees you from hate, anger, sorrow, and guilt. It can bring joy where only heartache, and perhaps bitterness, lived before.” I hugged her, and she returned the embrace with a long, firm hug.

  “There is one other person I need to ask forgiveness from,” Karen whispered.

  “Who is that?” I asked, also in a whisper.

  Our eyes locked, as they often did when truth was being spoken. It seemed to be our way of looking into each other’s souls.

  “You.”

  “Me?” I sat up, stunned.

  “Yes. You loved Hannah. You asked me twice if she could stay with you until I got my life in order. If I hadn’t been so selfish and had let her go with you, she would be alive today, I would have my children with me, and I wouldn’t be serving a life sentence. So, I am asking you now. Will you forgive me?”