Doug came to Sunnyvale, CA. in January of 1992. His sister, Sherry, who had transferred with my 2nd husband and I to CA. had told him that 'we' were 'spending their inheritance'. So~she and Jeanine (his greedy fiancee') convinced Doug to come out to 'claim his fair share'. The deal he offered was that for $5000, he wouldn't 'bug' me anymore . . . ever. It was enough that he asked for 'his inheritance' . . . to NEVER see him again, to buy him OFF, was the ultimate blow. I bought him a bus ticket back to Ohio in February of '92 and told him that I loved him but he needed to 'grow up'.
Then, Doug, 23, disappeared Dec. 3, 1992. We later learned that he'd been been shot with a 22 rifle three times. When he fell to his knees, his attacker traded weapons, approaching Doug from behind with a roofer's axe. The first blow with the axe split his head in half, killing him instantly. Still, there were thirteen more blows with the axe. There was nothing left of my son's head or face, he was decapitated, the pieces thrown into the back of a pick-up and buried in the backyard of his attacker . . . under a pile of wood until the following year. February 4th, they found Doug's body after James (his fiancee's 'other' lover) failed to show up for a lie-detector test. James is doing 20 years to life in prison.
The motive: Jeanine, a senior in high school, wanted to get married in December (be the first class bride). She told Doug she was pregnant (a lie) and he said, "Tough, I still want you to graduate first!" (He'd dropped out and finally had earned his GED.) Jeanine, mad, told James that she was pregnant and that Doug wouldn't marry her. She asked him to: "Teach Doug a lesson!" The 'lesson' was deadly! She wasn't charged.

Doug came to Sunnyvale
hoping for some money
to give his honey.
Sissy's 'joke'--not funny--
so I sent him back home
still broke; his 'request' lacked tack.

The last words my son said
ring, again, in my head.
"Momma, please do not cry.
Wipe those tears from your eyes.
I'm just going home.
We'll soon meet again."

Though Doug did telephone,
we didn't speak alone
for I'm deaf. He'd asked for
his 'inheritance' . . . more.
His words hurt me deeply
that for 'dough' he'd 'leave' me.

The last words my son said
ring, again, in my head.
"Momma, please do not cry.
Wipe those tears from your eyes.
I'm just going home.
We'll soon meet again."

My son soon disappeared
and my heart felt . . . as speared.
Attacked in the night;
hidden out of sight.
I'd give my life for him!
And, yes, the news was grim.

The last words my son said
ring, again, in my head.
"Momma, please do not cry.
Wipe those tears from your eyes.
I'm just going home.
We'll soon meet again."

They found my son's body
'neath a woodpile, grizzly.
He'd been there quite a while
in pieces, quite a pile.
Please remember my son--
I had only the one.

Someday I'll go home.
and hold him; smile again.