Read Online With His Dying Breath by Nancy Hogue - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nancy Hogue
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why!”
That was the last time she talked to her brother. He and his two friends received the maximum sentence. He sat in a maximum-security prison just up the road. How ironic she thought, brother and sister both sitting in jail. Both charged with murder. There’s that word again. I hate that word.
Katie skipped school the morning her parents were murdered. She left for the bus stop at 7:15 a.m. Her mom was taking an elderly woman in her church to the hospital for tests at eight thirty. Her dad was to leave at nine for the Atlanta airport going to Chicago. At mid-morning, another woman in the Sunday school class came by to see why her mom didn’t get the older lady and saw the front walk and porch splattered with bloody footprints. The door was open, and she saw Katie’s mom, Kathy, on the stairs with blood on her gown and a trail of blood up and down the staircase and ran across the street to call police.
Katie knew nothing about her parents until late that afternoon. An investigator went to school to get her, and the principal said she had not come to school that morning.
The house was torn apart looking for the two kids. There was an all-out search around the school, neighborhood and adjacent woods to search for her and her brother. Police presumed the killers kidnapped the son and little girl. Police questioned Katie and Kyle’s teachers about who their friends were. Katie and Kyle were missing but what about their friends.
Kyle was not in school, and three of Katie’s friends were absent. Investigators called parents. Parents called each other. Phones were ringing in every house on every block for a mile radius.
The four girls were located at one forty-five. They had taken some cigarettes, some wine and their diaries to an abandoned house in a nearby deteriorating neighborhood. One of them got the idea from a movie and thought it would be fun to have that kind of sisterhood with these three other girls. It was chilly but not cold but then we had candles burning all around us. They were good students, as a rule, so nobody would suspect anything other than they were sick at home.
At one thirty, they put out the candles and hid everything except their diaries since they planned to do this at least once each semester. Police picked them up near the bus stop just as if they were ending their school day.
It was a bad day. Katie watched as each of her friends was dropped off, and parents yanked each one into the house. She was terrified of what her own parents would say. They didn’t go to her house though. She remembered asking, “Why aren’t you taking me home?”
The investigator simply said she wouldn’t be going home till later.
“Later. I wish later had never come. But then, I don’t think it ever did,” she said to herself. “I never really went home.”
A court appointed public defender specializing in juvenile delinquency did nothing for her benefit while detectives fired questions at her. “Why did you kill your parents? Who helped you kill your parents? When did you kill your parents?”
“Kill my parents?” She asked the public defender what they were talking about, and he said just answer their questions. “But I didn’t kill my parents. Somebody’s killed my parents?” And she started to cry.
Word came through to the detective that her aunt had arrived from Macon and wanted to see her niece. By this time, another detective had talked to each of the three girls individually, and they all had the same story. Embarrassing as it was, the detectives knew Katie was not involved with her parents’ murders.
She swore to never skip school again. All the details were
That was the last time she talked to her brother. He and his two friends received the maximum sentence. He sat in a maximum-security prison just up the road. How ironic she thought, brother and sister both sitting in jail. Both charged with murder. There’s that word again. I hate that word.
Katie skipped school the morning her parents were murdered. She left for the bus stop at 7:15 a.m. Her mom was taking an elderly woman in her church to the hospital for tests at eight thirty. Her dad was to leave at nine for the Atlanta airport going to Chicago. At mid-morning, another woman in the Sunday school class came by to see why her mom didn’t get the older lady and saw the front walk and porch splattered with bloody footprints. The door was open, and she saw Katie’s mom, Kathy, on the stairs with blood on her gown and a trail of blood up and down the staircase and ran across the street to call police.
Katie knew nothing about her parents until late that afternoon. An investigator went to school to get her, and the principal said she had not come to school that morning.
The house was torn apart looking for the two kids. There was an all-out search around the school, neighborhood and adjacent woods to search for her and her brother. Police presumed the killers kidnapped the son and little girl. Police questioned Katie and Kyle’s teachers about who their friends were. Katie and Kyle were missing but what about their friends.
Kyle was not in school, and three of Katie’s friends were absent. Investigators called parents. Parents called each other. Phones were ringing in every house on every block for a mile radius.
The four girls were located at one forty-five. They had taken some cigarettes, some wine and their diaries to an abandoned house in a nearby deteriorating neighborhood. One of them got the idea from a movie and thought it would be fun to have that kind of sisterhood with these three other girls. It was chilly but not cold but then we had candles burning all around us. They were good students, as a rule, so nobody would suspect anything other than they were sick at home.
At one thirty, they put out the candles and hid everything except their diaries since they planned to do this at least once each semester. Police picked them up near the bus stop just as if they were ending their school day.
It was a bad day. Katie watched as each of her friends was dropped off, and parents yanked each one into the house. She was terrified of what her own parents would say. They didn’t go to her house though. She remembered asking, “Why aren’t you taking me home?”
The investigator simply said she wouldn’t be going home till later.
“Later. I wish later had never come. But then, I don’t think it ever did,” she said to herself. “I never really went home.”
A court appointed public defender specializing in juvenile delinquency did nothing for her benefit while detectives fired questions at her. “Why did you kill your parents? Who helped you kill your parents? When did you kill your parents?”
“Kill my parents?” She asked the public defender what they were talking about, and he said just answer their questions. “But I didn’t kill my parents. Somebody’s killed my parents?” And she started to cry.
Word came through to the detective that her aunt had arrived from Macon and wanted to see her niece. By this time, another detective had talked to each of the three girls individually, and they all had the same story. Embarrassing as it was, the detectives knew Katie was not involved with her parents’ murders.
She swore to never skip school again. All the details were
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