My daughter, Randi had a love for life, family and friends. She was committed to her marriage, her profession and her relationship with me. Randi was my only child, my best friend, and my life. When she was murdered, I lost part of myself.
It was shaping up to be a very cold winter and I, wanting to escape the frigid temperatures, went on a cruise with a dear friend of mine. Little did I know, when I boarded that plane to Florida on January 5, I would never see my precious daughter again. The plan to murder Randi was in the works for months.
The last time I saw Randi was on Saturday, January 4, the day before the cruise. I went to see her before I left and to share my itinerary with her and Brian. Although we spoke several times throughout the day, I never saw her again.
It was Friday, January 10, 2003, and my daughter went to work as usual as a speech pathologist at Hershey Medical Center. That day she worked her two jobs as she often did, saving money to have a baby. She was also creating a nest egg for her husband who was developing symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis. Little did she know when she came home that night she would encounter a cold heartless killer who wanted my daughter dead.
The nightmare began on Saturday, January 11. While my cruise was coming to an end, my family was frantically trying to locate me.
I landed in Baltimore and greeted by my family. They came to tell me that my daughter was murdered. I cried for her, I cried about wanting to see her, and to hold her. Randi was found dead in her garage and no one knew why.
Only living four blocks away from Randi’s home, I needed to go there. What I saw was so painful, the police surveillance cars guarding the crime scene, yellow police tape all over the yard. I kept praying that Randi would just open the door and run out to greet me. That never happened.
All that the police could tell me was that my daughter was killed. She was stabbed 27 times and found by her husband in the garage.
A private viewing was held for the family and a public visitation, with a closed casket. Detectives were at the viewing and the funeral looking for the murderer, little did I know that he was there – they both were – Brian and his trusted best friend. I was overcome by grief; my beautiful daughter was covered with deep bruises, and cuts that covered her hands, face and neck.
At the beginning of the investigation, police asked Brian and me to help build the profile of Randi.
I never thought for one moment that Brian would kill Randi. The suspicion of Brian killing my daughter escalated. The murderer was in my presence the entire time. Brian reassured me how much he loved Randi and told me that he promised to protect her. I trusted him.
The interviews continued and everything about Brian began to change. After Randi was buried, his parents cut off all communication with me, Brian became very distant, he moved out of the house, found an apartment close to his mother, took a leave of absence from work, and changed his appearance. I became suspicious of his actions.
He was arrested on May 8, 2003 after he confessed to the murder of Randi. He had planned the murder for several months and hired a hit man, his best friend, to carry out the mission. Brian stated that he killed Randi because he could not put her or the family through a divorce. The real truth is that he wanted access to the life insurance in the amount of $100,000.
I can say that there have three devastating times in my life that I shall never forget. One being the death of my father, the second is the death of my daughter and the third hearing the confession of her husband. I live that every day.
In October of 2003, Brian’s best friend was arrested, he then plead guilty on April 19, 2004. The police say that the two men planned the murder so well that if it were not for the husband caving in, that the murderer would not have been found.
My daughter was my life. The smile that I once had has disappeared. I often tell my family that I have no purpose. I am hurt as I remember time after time how I would tell Randi that I could not live is something ever happened to her. Here I continue to live. The guilt is so strong. Perhaps that I what every mother feels. I know that I was lucky to have had her in my life.
At the exact time that Randi was being murdered, I was sitting in my cabin on the cruise ship writing in my diary. I felt out of sorts, and needed some time to myself. I felt lonely. I thought about Randi. Maybe our last communication was really in my cabin, me missing her so deeply and her saying goodbye as the angels took her to heaven.