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Category Archives: Stalking
The Fourth Anniversary of Missing Morgan
In June 2011 Morgan scratched letters in the sand in a simple yet beautiful message to say that she missed us. She took this picture, while in Hawaii and texted it to Steve and I, just another reminder of Morgan’s warmth and love, and we were so happy to know that Morgan was thinking of us. She called a little later to say she wished we could be there with her. I still remember that call. I can even hear her voice as if it was only hours ago, while at the same time, it may just as well have been another lifetime.
Morgan was in Hawaii visiting her Godfather and his wife, seeing the sights, catching up on life, and she was absolutely beaming. Steve called it Morgie’s big adventure as he called her trip just before that, and the one just before that. The early summer 2011 had become a collection of big adventures for Morgie. Two trips of travel mixed with working for her, and this one just for fun. It took a lot of hard work and dedication, but Morgan had recovered enough to travel. She had completely rebuilt her health and between her older sister and her Godfather the 19 year old young woman was busy traveling on her own.
She was formulating plans for herself too, by then she was dreaming of, and determined to go to Stanford law school, after finishing a degree in English at CU Boulder, but before that she was after a certification as a yoga instructor so she could work at something she loved while going to school and have a fall back, just in case. The sky up there was the limit, Morgan had her whole life before her.
Missing Morgan
Four years and six months later we would scratch letters in the sand and tell her we missed her. Only there was no place to text the picture to. No number to call her to say we wished that she could be there with us. We could only look up to the heavens and say these things out loud feeling like the little angel had heard us and have the overwhelming feeling yet again that it just wasn’t fair. When Morgan scratched her letters in the sand she would see us in less than a week. Her face would light up and she would come running into the terminal when she saw us letting out her typical Morgan squeal of happiness and adding a big tight hug along with it. Our letters scratched in the sand brought nothing close to that feeling.
Love You Morgan
20 candles for Morgan’s twenty years of life. Her 20th year had only just begun, and the 20th candle we lit did not stay lit as long as the other candles – as you can see in the picture above.
Dear family and friends were with us to tell Morgan they missed her too on this fourth anniversary of her death, her murder. It’s been a long four years, years that have brought many changes to our lives. Morgan trusted and loved with all her heart, she shared her zeal for life with all those around her. Those now forced to miss her have only the precious memories of time spent with her. And the dreams of what she might be doing now. Morgan would want us to remember her loving us, and oh how we do.
3 years after her death…A breath of love about Morgan
Burning candles all around our house today for Morgan
This post was written by Morgan’s daddy, Steve.
This morning there are so many things of Morgan’s surrounding us, her paintings, photographs, a little silver charm with her first name engraved on it, and family pictures, everywhere. I feel her smile and her love of life in everything, and of course I feel that love always because it was so very strong in everything Morgan chose to do.
At the same time the story of her death becomes part of the legacy in a lawless county of Colorado, and what it has meant for so many others, step by plodding step. Fresh experiences with so many new twists, new turns and new surprises fill today, three years after the day she had every last thing so viciously stripped from her.
We all lost the bright shining light that is Morgan three short years ago. Her puppy Wylah seems to be watching her mom sometimes…and she is starting to get over the fear she has had of that certain type of young man ever since Morgan’s sudden death. Morgan’s kitty Mo has never really repeated his very vocal, ma… ma, since Morgan’s death – he knows she is no longer right here, and our family dog Tessi still stops in her tracks and turns to look whenever she hears Morgan’s name called out.
For Toni and I learning new truths never seems to stop. The desire to fill in the blanks goes on too. They feed each other, and both continue to be so important to us. But then they have their own internal schedule as if not to release too much all at one time. We both think we could have handled it, only deep inside we both know that would not have been possible. The ever unfolding truth about Morgan’s death has been precipitated by unseen events I have no control over, and they continue to happen, entirely on their own circadian rhythm. The unchanging truth just keeps managing to bubble up with new bits and pieces of evidence, whenever and wherever it wants to. I can sense that what at first was manifestations of lies and deceit by others sworn to protect her is now borne so much more of guilt and fear by these very same people.
We wish to never lose the tiniest slice of who Morgan was, her intense caring, nurturing and of course uncanny ability of seeing it all on a more simple straightforward prism of life. How she could distill it all into just that one point. Of course it might have taken her an entire poem to completely express that one point, but that was Morgan. Her presence and abilities are always missed. There is such a growing knowledge and understanding of how the selfish uncaring and vindictive lives of others can touch us all through what happened to Morgan. For some people Morgan is closer now than she has ever been in the three long years since her death. To be able to feel how strong she is brings such comfort, and is such a blessing.
While the world moves on today Toni and I will take a moment to let time just stop for us this moment. We’ll allow all things Morgan to permeate as much as they wish. We’ll look at pictures, watch videos, read her pose and share our memories. A light that bright can’t be allowed to have been extinguished from the world completely and forever. We intend to let her memories burn brighter and touch us more deeply than ever as we go forward from today.
And to all of you who have followed and learned from the story of Morgan, you have gained a little sense of just what she meant to this world. And there are so many who knew Morgan and could add immeasurably to that little sense which has begun with her story. That one particular part, friends who really knew Morgan, adding to her ever growing story. That specific part, Toni and I both want to happen more and more, and I know that it will, because an eerie frightening darkness of deceit that began with her death has managed to live on – day by day, even minute by minute – that darkness needs to be pierced through now. Not only for the causes she started and had begun to dedicate her life to need full reign to blossom and move onward, but even more the tragic actions of stalking that stole first her freedom and then her life need to be fought on her behalf. Toni and I together, with so many other co-victims, know in our hearts this to be true, and more importantly in our actions we wish to make a real change so that others will not be made to suffer as Morgan did on that day, and how she has ever since.
The world will always have need for the love, the ideals and the deep, deep caring of Morgan… perhaps now more than ever.
We all love you Morgan, forever and ever. Daddy.
December 8, 2011 – Day 7 of Morgan’s investigation – More packing and wondering
Morgan’s happy walls…all 4 walls were full of lots of color, and wonderful memories
Packing away Morgan’s belongings began last night, and today I continued. Her lifetime of memories and prized possessions, along with most all of the necessities for her life right here in one room, just missing one important piece – Morgan. Morgan’s walls were her “happy walls”, covered with pictures and cards, and every image of things she had cherished in her life. Each and every one with a story of its own, dress up day at grade school, a hike with friends, miniature golf with dad, or a real pirate ship with mom and dad catching the sunset, even if it was on a lake. Her paintings, a string of Christmas lights with a cartoon character for each light, postcards, inspirational photos and sayings – so, so many memories of happy times for Morgan.
Today I started to pick the pieces of her enormous collage off the walls. One memory after the other – and so many that we had shared together. At first a tear came with each, then it was sobs. How could this have happened! I demanded from the empty room. Why was Morgan taken from us? I ached for an answer, and would call Steve to share how I felt, wondering if there was any way to speed up the process. Even though I knew the answer already, we had been told it would be weeks before the last results would come in.
We were also told by the detectives that the Forensic Pathologist was really good, very thorough. He would have answers, and I trusted every assurance I had been given. It’s really quite impossible to think your youngest baby has been trusted to the hands of anyone, but the best. So I filled my waiting with sharing the memories she chose to find as happy ones with every piece I removed from her wall. After all the close moments Morgan and I had together here was quite a different moment. Putting anything into a proper perspective was so impossible.
Steve joined me at some time and we worked independently but together and shared in the grief. I am not sure if it was then or at some moment in the near future that we resolved to move as soon as we could. Morgan never bursting into the house with her latest excitement was indelibly etched into the front door of this house, and walking past it knowing that would never again happen was so terribly difficult.
After a few days now of sorting her room it still had not yet begun to show any signs of being emptied, but the stack of boxes in the entry sure grew. We had to go really slow and inspect everything. Then we had decided there was no sense putting them anywhere else, because soon they would be packed onto a moving van. Over the following weeks our house became boxes destined for another place, and I found some comfort in that.
Steve and I were so very grateful for the years we had Morgan in our lives and for this entire nightmare to become part of our past could not happen soon enough.
We were told that for the stalker, or the responsible party in the invasion of Morgan’s privacy, or whoever he, she or they were there would be an urge to return at some point soon after her death, and that urge may be strong. We should be alert for the possibility. But we were no longer wanting to be hyper-vigilant any longer, now we were just numb. We listened to advice like this, but found it very difficult to maintain anything close to the same vigilance we had when Morgan was still alive.
Other’s were helping us by watching the neighborhood for this sort of possibility, and they did see some curious events. But, as with Morgan’s stalking it was more a glimpse of uncertainty instead of staring right at an answer.
The truth never changes, and it was my firm belief in that fact that helped us through this time. There was a truth out there, and while it might not come as soon as I wished, it would eventually arrive and it would not change – the truth is always the truth no matter how much others might want it to go away. It would always remain there, waiting to be fully exposed.
I remember sometime during the packing up of Morgan’s room I began to think of the things that were not being done. Like no one was calling me for a list of Morgan’s doctors, especially the specialists she had seen. They held such knowledge of Morgan. The question grew until I called the detectives to ask if I should put together a contact list for someone. But I was assured that as far as they knew they already had everything they needed. I remember wondering how, but not asking why.
Life was a delicate balance then, engaging enough to keep moving, but not too much. Too much seemed to bring a wave of realization and instant sorrow. I felt guilty at times, feeling that Morgan had been the one who suffered and paid the ultimate price, not me. Allowing myself to grieve was at times unstoppable, and at other times an incredibly difficult challenge.
As Steve and I made headway in her room there had been no further questionable discoveries. In the first days there had been quite a few, but now as we dug deeper into drawers and corners of closets there were only Morgan’s things as they had been.
Besides that which we had found had not generated much, but we were used to that. Investigations seen on TV, with teams spending entire days searching was obviously just a fantasy because compared with the real life we had come to expect nothing even remotely close to that was happening. As far as law enforcement and the Coroner’s office went, Morgan was only allowed so much time, and it certainly had not increased with her death.
It seemed as if all were waiting for the, “Tox report.” So naturally I worried, what if there was nothing found? Would they have to go back and start over? But by then we had cleared a good percentage of her room, and packed it all away. The detectives had assured me it was fine, and it was so hard to know I was doing the right thing no matter what I did.
Steve had a plan that at the time seemed so perfect. He had a banker box marked evidence and a box of baggies. Every time we would find a memory chip, jump drive, roll of film, and anything else that we surmised could be evidence someday, not even knowing if a crime had been committed, it would be placed in a baggie and marked with a sharpie as to where it was found.
At least this way if Morgan’s death turned out to be nefarious, all would not be lost. And for the next week it seemed that all possibilities were still in play.
LOVE WILL ALWAYS WIN…
