KARLY SHEEHAN: True Crime behind Karly's Law

by Karen Spears Zacharias

  I hope we can turn this terrible grief into a time of glory for God and His purpose on this earth.

  Thank you,

  Delynn

  As I write this, I am sitting in a cottage not far from Mobile Bay. There’s a chorus of mockingbirds heralding the morning sun. Mockingbirds are monogamous, often for life, not just for a season. Male mockingbirds are territorial, particularly during mating season.

  Nesting is a chore attended by both the male and female mocks. They build their nests not far from the ground, in the forks of trees or bushes. Their nests are vulnerable to predators. But in the sacred shelter of adult mockingbirds, tiny ones thrive.

  Although they aren’t very big, mockingbirds are fierce about protecting their young. They will drill anyone and anything they consider a danger to their offspring, no matter the size of the predator. Mockingbirds will swoop down from the skies like kamikazes to dive-bomb snakes, cats, dogs, pigs, or people.

  In a study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, researchers at the University of Florida campus in Gainesville discovered mocks are incredibly perceptive about identifying predators. In fact, mockingbirds are so keen they can pick out exactly which person, among thousands, poses a threat.

  Volunteers who had previously touched nests where the baby birds were sheltered were repeatedly singled out. The birds seemed to bear a grudge against those who interfered. Even when the volunteers dressed in different clothing or came from different directions or in groups, the birds still knew which person had been the greatest threat. These mockingbirds could pick out from thousands of students which particular volunteer had messed with their nests, and would attack that person.

  “We think our experiments reveal the mocks’ underlying ability to be incredibly perceptive of everything around them, and to respond appropriately when the stakes are high,” said lead researcher Doug Levey.

  When their young are threatened, mockingbirds take action.

  Should we do any less?

  That is the question Judge Janet Holcomb asked just prior to sentencing Shawn Field. And it is the same question that David Sheehan’s father, James Sheehan, considered in the witness impact statement that he wrote from his home in Kenmare, County Kerry, Ireland.

  “Six thousand miles can be a barrier at the best of times. It can be a major barrier when you’re trying to get to know your granddaughter,” James Sheehan said. “But get to know Karly we did quite well, largely through her two trips to Ireland. It was during the latter of these trips that she proved the old adage true: ‘If I had known grandchildren could be this much fun, I would have had them first.’”

  James Sheehan noted that it was his trips to Karly’s hometown of Corvallis that gave him further insights into his granddaughter. “On the second of these trips, we took Karly to St. Mary’s Catholic Church. It was a joyous day, with a lot of fond memories. But little did we realize that on our next trip to Corvallis, we would again be taking Karly to St. Mary’s, to a little plot on the slopes of a wooded hill.

  “Yes, Karly was gone, taken from us in a cruel and brutal manner. Events of that June weekend opened a wound in our hearts that no amount of retribution will ever heal, but it will stop the sopping around the moon every day for the rest of our lives,” James Sheehan said.

  “The one thing that impressed me about Corvallis was its community spirit,” he added. “It’s a town where everybody helped and cared for one another. But as in any community, whether it be Corvallis or a small town in Ireland, greed will infest the minds of some individuals, and it is made all the more sickening when that greed hurts those who are the most vulnerable in society.

  “Our kids need our attention, our caring, our love—not our selfishness, our apathy, or our anger. The kids you see around every day are not just kids, they are your future engineers, teachers, police, doctors, and they should all be given the chance to achieve these goals. Nobody must be allowed to take away that chance from them by any means, and certainly not by the violent means that took that chance away from Karly. You must send out a very clear message to any budding criminal entrepreneur that you will not tolerate these actions in your society. So that you never again have to read the kind of headlines you’ve been reading the past four weeks. God bless you.”

  I am no lyricist, but I am pretty sure I can make out the mockingbird call this morning—and if I’m right, it is a call of caution: Remember Karly. Remember Karly. Remember Karly.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Emmet Whittaker had in mind for some time that David and Liz might make a good match. Emmet was eager to see David happy, given all the heartache. It took some scheming, but along with some help from his wife, Sanna, Emmet finally managed to set David and Liz up. Emmet and Sanna had talked about it ahead of time, of course: how they could get these two together.

  Liz Sokolowski is a lithe classic beauty: Audrey Hepburn with fair hair and shockingly blue eyes. She moves with grace and embodies that katharos Jesus spoke of when he said, “Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God” (Matt.5:8).

  David couldn’t help but notice her. “I’d always thought she was cute,” he said. Their first few encounters in early 2008 were sporadic. David would meet Emmet after work on Fridays for a beer. Liz would join Sanna for a glass of wine. David had had surgery on his shoulder and couldn’t drive, so Emmet would pick him up, and because Liz lived closer to him, she would give David a ride home. Their conversations were clumsy. Mostly, David would talk to Emmet and Liz would talk to Sanna.

  One evening, a large group of HP professionals got together for dinner and to attend a friend’s play. David decided to ratchet things up a notch.

  “I made sure to sit across from Liz at dinner and next to her at the play,” David said. “But another friend was talking to Liz about a handsome friend of hers. She wanted to set Liz up on a date. I was thinking, ‘How handsome can this guy be? Maybe he’s not!’”

  Fortunately, nothing ever came of that, thanks to Emmet and Sanna, who had finally devised a plan to get David and Liz alone. “You want to meet Sanna and me for breakfast Sunday?” Emmet asked David.

  “Sure,” David said.

  “Liz might join us,” Emmet added.

  Splendid! Breakfast with Liz was something David had been yearning for. On those Friday nights when Liz would give David the occasional ride home, he found himself entranced. “I often wanted to reach across and plant a big kiss on her face,” David said.

  Liz, however, didn’t have a clue David was crushing on her. “He was so quiet,” she said. “We usually sat in different spots, so the only time we talked was on those rides home. I didn’t get the idea he was interested in me.”

  And David didn’t know that Liz was already in love. “I loved David right off the bat,” Liz said. “I know that sounds crazy, but I feel like I did.”

  The foursome met for Sunday breakfast at a neighborhood bakery. But when Sanna had to leave for an appointment (or so she claimed), Emmet suggested everyone else head over to The Beanery for some coffee. The three of them found a table and had just gotten their mugs of coffee when Emmet stood up abruptly and announced he had somewhere else to be. It was so obvious to both David and Liz they were being set up that they laughed.

  “Emmet thought we were a good match from a personality standpoint,” Liz said. “He was trying to get us in the same place at the same time. He wanted David to be happy.”

  In my almost weekly phone conversations with David during the spring of 2008, he told me about the pretty, smart chick from Chicago. He sent me e-mails, reassuring me that he intended to be extra careful this time around. In May, he sent me this note:

  Hey Elly May (his pet name for me),

  I will keep doing this group thing for a while and see where it goes. Anyway, Liz might have no interest in me, so it could be a moot point. But I hope she is interested; she’s a sweetheart. She e-mailed me on Tuesday to acknowledge Karly’s anniversary and she offered to help with
the playground on Wednesday.

  That had been a big point of concern for me. David knows I disapprove of the silent treatment when it comes to grief of any sort. A loving mate doesn’t tell their partner, “I don’t want to hear about all that.” Initially, I held my tongue (a first for me) because I loved David and, like Emmet, wanted so badly for him to be happy. When he told me Liz had sent him an e-mail acknowledging the anniversary of Karly’s death, he knew it would score big points with me. He was right. It softened my heart toward Liz right away.

  Liz has the gift of mercy, the result of having grown up hearing all those tragic tales of the Polish people. “I’m drawn to people who have suffered,” she said—part of why she was drawn to David. “I had a huge amount of compassion and empathy for him. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose Karly. David was so kind. From the start, I got this sense that he was a good, good person. I didn’t know if we would wind up getting married or not, but I thought that we might.”

  Falling in love with the father of a murdered child isn’t the hard part; figuring out how to talk to him about his child is what takes some skill. Liz wanted David to know that he could talk about Karly with her anytime.

  “David can be hard to read. He’s very reserved. He was concerned; he didn’t want all this to be the focus of our relationship.”

  One of their first dates was a trip to Karly’s grave. It was Memorial Day weekend, this one marking the third anniversary of Karly’s death. David debated whether to ask Liz to go to the cemetery with him. There was a lot of complicated history to consider.

  “He was pretty cautious,” Liz said. “He thought maybe I didn’t want to hear about it, maybe I didn’t want to go with him—but he told me he was going and asked if I could come along.”

  Karly is buried on a gentle hillside at St. Mary’s Cemetery. Not surprisingly, David picked the spot and planned the funeral without any help from Sarah. He didn’t want her input. He waited for his family from Ireland to arrive before burying Karly, so although Karly was killed on Friday, June 3, 2005, Karly’s services didn’t take place until the following Thursday.

  When she saw Sarah Sheehan across the room at the funeral home, Noreen Sheehan hesitated. Should she speak to her former daughter-in-law? Could she speak to her? It was a question Andrea debated as well. Andrea was so angry she had no intention of speaking to Sarah, but when David implored his sister to be mannerly, Andrea walked up to Sarah and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Sarah replied.

  Those were the only words the sisters-in-law exchanged.

  But that was more than Noreen received. “This was the mother of my granddaughter,” Noreen said, “so I did approach her. I put my arm around her and asked, ‘Sarah, what happened to our little girl?’”

  Sarah never said anything, not then or the next day at the graveside.

  The two women sat side by side, and when the time came for them to

  put flowers on Karly’s grave, Noreen asked, “Sarah, are you ready to do

  this?”

  Silence was all that Sarah offered Noreen Sheehan. Karly’s graveside service was the last time the two saw each other.

  Noreen Sheehan struggles with the passage of time. “I could picture what Karly would have been like at four, maybe, but not what kind of nine-year-old little girl she would be.”

  Karly’s grandmother thinks about all the plans she had for Karly and mourns for what might have been. “We are left with the sadness, our own and the sadness of our son losing his only child.”

  It’s the memories that strengthen Noreen: “The memories of talking to her on the phone. She sang happy birthday to me only two weeks before she died and asked if I would love a cupcake.”

  Even now the recollection of that brings a smile to Noreen’s face. “These are the memories of a little girl I will love forever and never forget, and so life goes on.”

  Andrea has her memories, too.

  “I think of Karly every day, mostly of the beautiful little girl who came to visit, who wanted to visit the chippy fry store for ‘chocolate moatshakes.’ I think of all the goodness she brought to our lives. But it’s hard not to think of how she suffered at the hands of that monster, and to this day I cannot understand how her mother didn’t protect her. I know it’s wrong but I hate what Sarah did to my brother and to my family. She took away a treasured child, grandchild, niece, and cousin, and for that I cannot forgive her.”

  Burying Karly violently tore David from the arms of all he held precious. While he can’t cuddle her, suds up her hair, or kick a soccer ball between the two of them, or awaken his sleeping princess with the perfect kiss, David feels her presence when he’s sitting with her under the tree on that knoll, watching the deer and squirrels romp like storybook animals. Karly would love that.

  •

  A year after Karly’s death, Andrea’s son, who is only seven weeks older than Karly, asked his mother to take him to town to buy some wings.

  “What do you need wings for?” Andrea asked.

  “So I can fly straight to heaven and bring Karly home in my arms,” he replied.

  When it grows dark in Ireland, Andrea’s children ask their mother, “Why did Karly turn off the lights?” And when it rains in County Kerry, as it so often does, Karly’s cousins ask their mother, “Is Karly splashing in the bathwater again?”

  These are the ways Karly’s cousins keep her memory alive, through stories of tricks they imagine Karly playing on them.

  David and Liz parked on a slope near Karly’s plot. The air smelled of wet bark. A bright mixture of fresh and artificial flowers were scattered about the graves like mismatched colored socks. A spinning flower garden ornament marked Karly’s headstone.

  St. Mary’s is a pioneer cemetery, with graves dating back to the mid-1800s. Catholic families paid $50 for the two-and-half-acre cemetery in 1873. Some of the graves’ inscriptions have eroded with the passing of time and the soft rub of gentle rain. Although located by some of the city’s most well-traveled streets, the cemetery is shrouded with trees: tall ones and short ones, thin ones and thick ones, a protective shoulder-to-shoulder watch. Sometimes, most often in the spring, OSU students will bring their books and study under the oaks.

  David led Liz over to Karly’s plot. They had brought carnations—something the deer wouldn’t eat. David knelt in the damp soil, wiped wet leaves from the headstone, and traced his fingers over Karly’s name.

  Karly had been baptized at St. Mary’s on Easter, Resurrection Sunday. She wore her daddy’s baptismal gown. It all seemed fitting now, almost poetic. This child who so willfully kept rising above the darkness. She was joyful and merry, curious and cute, and so very independent.

  David had taken her to Avery Park one late summer afternoon to play. When it came time to leave, Karly put up a fuss—she was not ready to go, not yet. “Hold my hand,” David said, holding out his open palm. Karly reached up to take her daddy’s hand, then, pausing briefly, she grasped his wrist instead. It was a technical defiance, one that had David laughing to himself as they walked off into the golden sunshine.

  One night David was in the kitchen preparing dinner, but Karly didn’t want to wait for supper; she was hungry now. She walked toward the refrigerator. “Karly, do not touch that fridge,” her father instructed. The impetuous child put out her hand and touched it ever so slightly with her index finger. She then looked up sweetly, assuredly at her father. Score! Another technicality. David had to fight to keep from laughing at Karly’s willful ways.

  These joyful memories break his heart. The times he had to stifle his laughter in order to teach his daughter to do better. That impish personality that was all bubbles, and brightness, and boldness, all Karly—that is what David misses most. It is not the memory of her death that haunts him; it is the memory of her living.

  David began to sob as grief pitched through him. Standing behind him, Liz reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, bu
t the sentiment was not.

  “I’d never seen him like that before,” she said. “The only thing I can do is be there to support him, whatever grieving he needs to do, now and forever. I want to be there.”

  Karly had done that once: touched her daddy’s shoulder in that very same way. It was the Saturday night after her death. David was lying face down in the bed. He’d been inconsolable then, too. All of a sudden, he felt Karly’s little hands rubbing his shoulders. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he, but his breathing relaxed and he fell into a deep and restful sleep.

  A visitation from the child of Resurrection.

  “I know that was Karly saying goodbye to me before she went to heaven,” David said.

  Epilogue

  Inmate 16002306 has refused all my requests for an interview. One law enforcement official offered that perhaps the reason Shawn Field will not meet with me is that it gives him a certain amount of control. The causes of child abuse are multi-dimensional: drug abuse, mental illness, domestic violence, or an abusive childhood, to name a few. Some abusers do it simply to exercise power and control.

  Perhaps the theory that Shawn Field wanted to extort money from David is true. But it could also be true that Shawn Field tortured Karly because he is a sick bully. He liked the power it gave him. David believes this and so do I. It certainly helps explain why Shawn began to torture Karly almost as soon he struck up a relationship with Sarah.

  I have no relationship with Sarah. We have not spoken to each other in the past few years. I cannot tell you what she thinks. I can only tell you she continues to act as if life is one big party thrown in her honor. Her Facebook is full of photos of her all dolled up, or scantily clad, at one party or another. She’s usually snuggled up to some new groovy guy—often several of them—although they are getting older and older.