Everything She Ever Wanted (107 page)

Judge Alexander reminded Pat that she was never again to work in any

health-related field.

In essence, Pat was going to prison for eight years.

The deputy guarding her allowed her to step to the side of the

courtroom, where she was enveloped in hugs.
 
Margureitte shook her head

and muttered under her breath to no one in particular that this was all

some terrible, terrible mistake.
 
Pat herself didn't cry.
 
Even facing

her return to Hardwick, she may have heaved a sigh of relief; it could

have been so much worse.

Later, Margureitte Radcliffe said Pat had only pleaded guilty to save

Debbie.
 
"She is the kind of mother who couldn't bear to see her child

suffer.
 
She sacrificed herself for Deborah."

Margureitte did not mention Steve Roberts' insistence on the condition

guaranteeing that Pat would never again have to deal with vexatious

questions about the murders of Walter and Carolyn Allanson.
 
Whatever

had happened that rainy twilight eve of July 4th, whatever Pat had done

to provoke the bloody confrontation in the basement of 1458 Norman

Berry Drive, the subject was closed-at least legally closed.

From the moment she learned of her mother's first arrest, Susan Alford

had dreaded two things, knowing that if she avoided one, she would

bring the other crashing down upon her.

Although she doubted that anyone would believe her, she loved her

mother and longed for a happy ending.
 
When Pat got out of prison in

1984, it was as if a great weight had fallen from Susan's heart.
 
A

whole wonderful future lay ahead of them then.

Susan was the daughter who gave her mother so much support while she

was in Horizon House, eager to help Pat reenter the world outside

prison.

Pat wrote to Susan on November 30, 1984, after her first out of-state

visit while she was on parole.
 
It was a long letter any daughter would

treasure.

... As each day of our lives together passed, I loved you more and more

each one.
 
I have so many beautiful images and memories that will

always be with me of you.
 
Oh, how many times I drew on those images

and memories all the last 8 years.... TriPs to the beach in North

Carolina where you all looked for sand dollars.
 
Germany, and how all

the people thought you were a little Bavarian girl with your rosy

cheeks and long braids.
 
And as all this time passed, my love didn't

stand still either but rather Ilust kept loving you more.
 
Every day of

our lives (together or not together) whether the experiences have been

painful or pleasureful [sic], joyful or sad, regardless, each and every

one has made me love you more.
 
Neither time, nor distance, not even

the physical seperation [sic] of the last 8-10 yrs.
 
can diminish that

love.
 
For every thing we've endured has only made the bond a stronger

one.
 
The baby I loved became the little girl I loved who became the

beautiful and loving woman you are now.
 
I am so proud that you are my

daughter and I look forward to the many wonderful years andfuture

experiences we'll share....

The letter had thrilled Susan and made her weep.
 
And yet, even back

then the first niggling doubts had already begun, no matter that she

cloaked herself in denial and rationalizations, no matter how many

times she looked away from what she would not see.

Susan's worst dread was that her mother would again want something so

badly that anyone who got in the way would be hurt.

It had never occurred to her that she might be one of those hurt.

Even when Susan herself had two mysterious illnesses that no one could

diagnose, she would not listen to Bill's and Sean's warnings that her

mother was probably poisoning her.
 
She would not, could not, believe

that.
 
Maybe she had only suffered from the flu or something equally

innocuous.
 
Without specific testing, no one could say.
 
"But I was

lucky at that.
 
I lived," she said later.

"I could have died, like Kent did or the Allansons."

Susan had vowed since 1976 that she would not let her mother destroy

anyone else.
 
And she hadn't, but it cost her.

Her second worst fear was that she would no longer have a family if she

told anyone outside that family about her mother's crimes.
 
Lord knows,

no one had ever acknowledged Pat's dangerousness i .
 
nsi .
 
de the

family; if Susan did the unspeakable, she knew she would be forever

beyond the pale.
 
All she could count on would be Bill and Courtney and

little Adam.
 
She had seen Bobby and Charlotte Porter virtually

excommunicated for far less.

They had only refused to write a letter.
 
Although they had agreed not

to prosecute Pat for her alleged mistreatment of Aunt Lizzie, they

would not write a letter praising her and they had become pariahs.

choice at all for Susan.
 
She In the end, there had been no ooner or

later, her mothcould not live knowing that sometime, stiver's eye would

fall on something she wanted very, very much.

And that disaster would follow.
 
decades of Boppo had been Susan's

ideal for more than three her life, her support, her rescuer, the one

person she had always believed she could count on.
 
But when Susan's

presence in Boppo's house had irritated Pat, she was out on the street

in no time.

Susan had no illusions that she would still be part of the family

ted.

But she could not have after her mother and sister were arres realized

that she would never be allowed simply to walk away, to begin a new

life.
 
Banishment was merely the first increment of her family's

revenge.

From the moment they left Boppo and Papa's on Thanksgiving Day, 1990,

the Alfords had been on their own.
 
Susan no longer had a sister, a

brother, grandparents, great-aunts, uncles, cousins (save the

discredited Bobby and Charlotte), or nieces.
 
Her son, Sean, remained

estranged-but she learned that he was encouraged to come to Boppo and

Papa's house once a week.
 
It was almost primitive.
 
Susan and Bill had

betrayed the pack, and the others would never forgive them.
 
Whatever

Pat had done, she had always been taken back, not only forgiven but

supported and carried above all of them on arms of love.
 
Susan had

spoken up only to prevent her mother from doing harm and she was

exiled.
 
Main Street in The Alfords were becalmed for a year on

McDonough.
 
Sometimes, they felt as if they lived in a fishbowl.

McDonough was so small that they could go nowhere without running into

Boppo and Papa.
 
When that happened, they were strangers; Boppo took on

her crystal gaze and sailed by themSusan saw her grandmother often, and

she did not look ill, but the doctors' reports said otherwise, and

Susan believed them.
 
She worried about Boppo it would take her months

to hook into the anger deep inside.

she saw her Naturally diffident, Susan didn't feel rage until

children hurting.
 
Courtney received a letter from Boppo and Papa

telling her that they would no longer pay for her riding lessons.
 
Adam

couldn't understand why Boppo and Papa had gone out of his life.

Susan heard rumors about her own treachery wherever she went in

McDonough.
 
The gossips were busy, and apparently Pat's and Debbie's

offenses paled in comparison with Susan's.
 
An "anonymous source"

reported the Alfords to the local child protective authorities as

abusive parents.
 
The allegations were investigated and dropped when

Courtney laughed out loud at the charge that she had been "dragged

 
by her hair."
 
Don Stoop and Michelle Berry stood by

the Alfords; the case was over, but the detectives had come to like and

respect the couple who had done what they felt they had to do.
 
When

things got to be too much for Susan, Stoop could usually make her

laugh.

He didn't tell her, but he was going to be relieved too when the

Alfords got out of McDonough.
 
They were objects of such hatred.

On July 8, 1991, Susan and Bill received a letter from Boppo, typed on

her old manual machine-the same one she used for everything from

suspicious confessions to the official disinheritance of miscreants.

Susan and Bill had assumed that their banishment from Boppo's funeral

services had been their last official notice.
 
But there was yet

another salvo.

Susan TaylorAlford George C. Alford Since this tragedy occurred, I have

been trying to find the worrds [sic] to say to you ... there are no

words that can express the depth of my hurt and thae [sic] deep loss

Ifeel.

... At this point it is impossible that we could ever have any

relatz'onship.
 
There are no winners here.
 
But there are many

losers.

As my Mother said many times, "What has been done is done, and can not

be changed, it is written in our page of life and will stand as it

i's.

Only God can forgive you for all of this.
 
With mankind it is a little

harder.

Your Grandfather and I have re-written our wills.
 
So has your

Mother.

You are both excluded.
 
It is not fitting that you should benefit

materially after all the tragedy you have caused.

You Susan, will not be getting [the] ring that Uncle Kent gave to me.

I know that he would not think [you] deserved same....

How very sadforyourchildren.
 
Adam sawyou, Susan, cryfor over a

year.... Mat happened?
 
Courtney is old enough to know that I love

her.

I love them both very much and miss t em Susan ... I was in the