Honesty--the Best Policy (2000)

Honesty--The Best Policy  
by Teraisa J. Goldman
 
The U-Haul Murders: True Crime and Capital Punishment, my book in progress, has brutal crimes in it. Try to imagine being one of the victims surviving family member. How would you feel if someone you never knew came up and asked you personal questions that required you to remember things you didn't want to; memories so painful, they set you back two weeks when you do think about them.  

Three years I would search for Clarence and Betty Crawford. The entire time, I knew they may close the door in my face once they met me and realized I was writing about their daughter, Peggy, her life, and her barbaric death. Although I had already interviewed about 100 people and I could still write the story, but it wouldn't mean as much to me, or the reader, without knowing more about Peggy.
 
Writing letters is the most effective way to let people know what you are doing, especially when the writing is of this nature. It gives them time to grasp what is going on. If their first thought is to say "no," it gives them the chance to change their mind--and vice versa. It gives them the chance to not be caught off guard, and then to be mad because they never had a chance to gain control of themselves or their emotions.
 
I began my investigation for the book by reading newspaper accounts of the crimes. Because of pressing deadlines, news journalists often don't have the time they need to make sure the facts are correct. But, in general, they have great informational leads. I used these news articles when I first began my search for the Crawfords. Letters came back, marked "address unknown" and "return to sender."
 
I never gave up completely, but I just could not find this family. I searched the Internet, reread court documents, transcripts and newspapers. I also asked anyone that might even remotely have any information about them and their whereabouts. Nothing--or nothing new, I should say.
I continued interviewing and writing, but every other week, I would sit and wonder how I was going to find Peggy's family. And every week, I gave up, temporarily.
 
During an interview, I learned the Crawfords had moved to my state of Nevada, and in fact, lived near me! Excitedly, I wrote a new letter to the family listed in the phone book.
Two weeks later, I received the letter back: "no such address."
 
That night happened to be the night of a state execution, the first in Nevada since 1996, and the seventh since the United States Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in the 1970's. Although it was a different crime, I realized by attending the execution (outside the gates), I could use the experience and feelings in my book.
 
To make a long story short, there were two groups standing outside the prison, protesters and people with candles, standing in memory of the soon-to-be executed's victims.
 
I felt a tremendous pull to the side of the memories, although my curiosity wanted me to check out the protesters. With tears in my eyes, and more emotion pouring from my heart than I could ever understand, I walked to the small group of candle holders and intruded. A man put his arm around me and asked if I was okay. I was shocked. I wanted to know if they were okay. He comforted me, while I explained why I was there. It turned out they were all family members of loved ones that had been killed by violence.
 
"Have you met Betty and Clarence Crawford?" he asked. He stepped back and let me see what three years of searching could not produce for me. Next, he introduced me to the nicest people you could ever want to meet.
 
I was not rude, I did not try to get information. However, I did tell them the truth, that I was a writer and that I had been looking for them. We exchanged phone numbers, addresses and hugs. A bond between us formed that night.
 
As soon as I got home, I sent them the original letter. Although we had talked on the phone, and everything was good between us, after they received the letter I did not hear from them for three weeks. I had their number, but I refused to intrude again, without their blessings. They are more to me than a story, they are humans, and humans mean much more to me than that.
 
Finally, a call! Clarence called and apologized. He had a difficult time, but he wanted me to write the story. All of it. He wanted me to have all the information I needed. He and Betty came to this conclusion because they liked the difference between me and reporters sticking microphones in their faces, then twisting their words around until they are unrecognizable. They appreciate that their daughter and her story matter to me.
 
I smile, because they know me well. I was scared to tell them what I wanted, but I was honest, and I was myself. And in the end... that's what always prevails.