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CHAPTER 1...
I am a Victim of Violent Crime
The Beginning, the Crime

Just before midnight, January 14th, 1980, the phone by our bedside rang. Ted, my husband, startled by the loud ring, grabbed it and turned on the light. I heard him say "What!" as he shot into a fully awakened state. “What?” he nearly screamed into the phone a second time. Something inside my stomach sank as I watched the color drain from his face”.

His face became a stark, sickly white shade. I had never seen a look so devastating in my life. The look of utter desolation is one that I will never forget; a look of shock and complete disbelief. He listened quietly and as if totally defeated, softly murmured, "We are on our way”.

Ted turned to me, his shoulders already sagging, and looked directly into my eyes, “We need to get to your parent’s home. Pat and Theresa have been in an accident. They’ve been killed.” He added nothing about the children.

I sat motionless. I couldn’t even ask a coherent question. I vaguely remember hearing the words but not recognizing them. There was a roaring in my ears that made hearing, let alone speaking, nearly impossible.

We quickly and quietly dressed for the drive across town to my parent’s home. I had not realized that Ted had only told me a part of the tragedy. He was not able to speak the unthinkable and I would not learn the extent of our loss for another 20 minutes.

Pulling up to my parent’s house, I noticed a Sheriff's car parked in front of the house and numerous other police and official cars that were not familiar to the neighborhood. Ted and I entered the house. The first person I saw was Father Temple, our dear family friend and parish priest. I could see Dad and Mom in the background, both crying. The Sheriff came to me, his face very solemn and full of pain. I imagine it was taking every ounce of strength he had to maintain his composure, especially with what he had just witnessed.

He spoke softly and his voice cracked, "I am sorry but Pat, Theresa, Lisa and Greg have been killed. They are all gone.” The pain it took to tell me was seen in his eyes, quivering lips and his sunken shoulders.

Once the words were spoken, I could hear myself mumble almost in a whisper, "What! The kids? All of them?”

“Yes, they are all gone?” he said, as his eyes welled up with tears.

“You're wrong! This can't be true !” I screamed, "No! No! No! This is a mistake!"

I was saying words, screaming loudly but not making any sense. Just repeating myself and looking at everyone’s face. Nothing was penetrating in my head, it was all just words. It was not real. There was a roaring sound in my ears blocking all sounds except my own shattered voice.

I thought I must wake up from this dream, but I knew I was already awake. It was real and it was really happening. "What happened? Was it an accident? Were they in their car? A fire? What?!"

As Father Ted held my hand and the Sheriff placed his hand on my shoulder, the Sheriff told me. "There was a terrible accident, they were shot. A burglar broke into the house and shot them.”

This was even harder to comprehend. I was stunned; it was just not making sense. What I was hearing and what was going into my ears and trying to connect to my brain was just not working correctly.

Again I said, "What? I don't understand. Shot? All of them? Killed? They are gone?”

The Sheriff repeated himself, "Yes, they were all shot. We believe a burglar broke into the house and shot them.”

I had understood what he had said but I had chosen to block the words out the first time. My brain and my heart had simply shut down... it was all just words.

I glanced at everyone's face. They all had that look. It was the same pale, white sickly look with no color. The same look that Ted had just a few minutes ago when he answered the phone. There was nothing but a blank look. A horrid look, a look of disbelief. A look that the whole world had been torn apart. We were all in shock. We occupied the same space...we shared an agonizing suffering and loss...it was a look of shock that would be with us for all time. It was a look that told you your life would never be the same.


At that exact moment I felt something inside me break. It was as if someone had taken a lovely crystal glass and crushed it with one tight squeeze. Shattering it into tiny fragments. My entire body was thousands of slivers of glass that had broken with three simple words, “They are gone.”

Something replaced the Diana that was there at that moment with a person that was different in every respect. I have never hurt so much in my entire life. My heart was beating too fast and had climbed into my throat. My entire sense of being was falling apart. I was shaking uncontrollably. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. My head ached with the uncertainty and the pain was unbearable. Someone ripped my entire life apart in just seconds. Gone. Gone. Gone was all I could imagine.

I quickly went to Mom and Dad and while sharing our tears and sorrow, the Sheriff said, "I would advise you to call anyone that needs to be notified. Anyone that you feel should not hear this over the news. Call them! This will be making the morning headlines. The state police will be notifying the news media around 3:15AM.”

At that moment,
I Became a Victim of Violent Crime.

My family; my only sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew, had entered and surprised a burglar while he was ransacking and burglarizing their home. The perpetrator tied them up, tortured them, shot all of them in the head and beat my brother-in-law with barbells so badly a closed casket was inevitable.

This was my family….my thirty year old sister Theresa and brother-in-law Pat, my five year old niece Lisa and four year old nephew Greg
(The Patrick Gilligan Family).


This crime was committed in 1980 and the criminal, Donald Ray Wallace Jr., sat on death row for 25 years claiming his innocence.

Wallace was one of the longest death row inmates in Indiana. This crime still stands as being one of the most heinous in Indiana.

To the knowledge of the Indiana Attorney General, in March of 2005, this was the longest appeals process on the record books.

On March 10th, 2005, the sentence was carried out …. Donald Ray Wallace Jr. was executed for the cold blooded vicious murders of four innocent people....
25 years after the crime!