Murdered Teenage Girl Reveals Her Killer

1969 was an eventful year, both globally and personally. It marked the inauguration of President Richard Milhous Nixon, the Moon landing, the maiden flight of the Boeing 747, the death of President Dwight D. Eisenhower, the last public performance by The Beatles, John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Give Peace a Chance "bed-in," the death of Judy Garland, the Woodstock Festival, the release of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and the premieres of The Brady Bunch and Monty Python's Flying Circus.

But it was also a year fraught with terror - anti-war demonstrations followed by the My Lai Massacre, Charles Manson's unspeakable atrocities - Sharon Tate, one of Manson's victims, lost her life and her unborn baby one month after I gave birth to my first baby - two months after I graduated from high school.

Already reeling from the effects of the Viet Nam War where I'd lost a friend, the world around me spun in chaos and many of us felt completely out of control.

All of these events were further compounded by a personal tragedy that affected my close circle of family and friends earlier that same year.

Sadie was the daughter of one of my mother's friends. When we were young Sadie and my two sisters and I, along with some of my mom's other friends' children, often played together.

Sadie was bright, funny, and fun to be around. She reminded me of Jodie Foster with her adorable little face and her pretty blonde hair.

Sadie was also conscientious and responsible, and when she was 15, her high school principal requested Sadie as his babysitter. Sadie took her job seriously.

While at the home of her principal one afternoon, the janitor at Sadie's school stopped by. Sadie explained that the principal was out and wouldn't be home until late. She assured the janitor that she would let the principal know that he had been there.

Several hours later, the janitor returned to the home. And then he left. Fear of possibly getting caught engulfed him and he went home to tell his father what he had done to Sadie. The janitor's father recommended that he go to the police and tell them he found Sadie that way.

"That way" was dead. Sadie had been raped, bludgeoned, and strangled to death with a lamp cord.

Sadie's family, which consisted of her mom, her dad, and her two brothers, found out about the tragedy when the police knocked on their door to ask them what they wanted to do with Sadie's remains. No sympathy. No empathy. No compassion. Just the facts. Sadie was dead and nobody explained to the family how or why they'd lost their precious loved one.

But Sadie had reached out from beyond the grave to provide some relief for her family. After the janitor had left the first time, Sadie had put a note by the phone to let the principal know that the janitor had stopped by. If not for that note, because DNA evidence was unheard of back then, the janitor might have gotten away with his crime. But Sadie, because of her promise to let the principal know about the janitor's visit, had pointed to her killer.

In the nearly 41 years that have passed since the day Sadie died, I've had the pleasure of watching my oldest daughter grow into the beautiful spirit she was meant to be. I've been part of her life, the lives of her children, and now, her grandchildren.

Every year since that day 41 years ago, as if the memory alone doesn't surface automatically to remind Sadie's mother about the day one man's decision resulted in her only daughter's death, Emily, whose husband, Aaron, died several years ago, can spend time only with her daughter's memory.

Because of the horrendous evil, Emily and Aaron had to attend the janitor's parole hearing every year to make sure their daughter's killer remained behind bars. Sadly, about fifteen years ago, Aaron died as a result of the shock in learning that no more parole hearings would be needed - his daughter's torturer was set free.