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News
Victims remembered before sentencing : News : Oswego Ledger-Sentinel : Hometown Newspaper for Oswego and Montgomery, IllinoisVictims remembered before sentencing
| Prosecutors, family members read impact statements
| 12/6/2012
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Susan Phillips, the mother of Kimberly Vaughn and a retired German language teacher, and Jennifer Ledbetter, Kimberly Vaughn's twin sister, read their victim impact statements in court last week in Joliet.
Prosecutor Michael Fitzgerald read the statement from Del Phillips, Kimberly Vaughn's father and an attorney, and from Nikki Isemann, Kimberly Vaughn's older sister.
These are portions of the victim impact statements from the family of Kimberly Vaughn read at the sentencing hearing for Christopher Vaughn.
Susan Phillips
(Mother of Kimberly Vaughn)
Blake was a fantastic reader with an incredible vocabulary. If he could find a multi-syllable word rather than a common word for something, he went for it. His first grade teacher told us the story of Blake telling two scrapping boys in his first grade class to quit being so "acrimonious." As a teacher myself, I love that story. I enjoyed using polysyllabic words with Blake. It was hard to find one he did not know. I had a lovely letter from Blake's baseball coach, who wrote about how kind a boy Blake was. The coach's five-year-old daughter liked to hang out in the dugout with the team, and once, when Blake saw a sandstorm swirling around them, he covered the little girl's face with his glove to protect her. That last weekend, Blake joined the sewing party to ask me if I knew who Keith Hernandez was. I am terrible at sports trivia, but I did know about Keith Hernandez. He was a former St. Louis Cardinal, who was traded to the New York Mets, when he developed a drug issue. Blake told me he would be right back. When Blake returned, his eyes were big and he said, "You are right, Oma." Blake didn't have to quiz me anymore; he knew his Oma was a font of baseball knowledge. Kimberly was raising a bright, active boy who was a great reader and a gentleman at heart. It was great and hard reading from those who knew Blake, as it just broke my heart more. We will never have a big word playoff again, or discuss baseball. That was taken from us. Divorce was always an option.
Abbi was an adventurer. She was the only sixth grader to enter a science competition at Thompson Junior High School, and she was also in the school play and drama club. She ran cross-country. Abbi had just made a select soccer league and was to be a goalie, the same position her mother had played. Abbi was a scholar athlete. Abbi was enrolled for seventh grade pre-algebra, and a pre-AP class for social studies. Abbi and I had an ongoing email conversation. She often asked questions about life and religion. When she learned she could wear eye makeup, Abbi and I immediately went eyeliner shopping that Friday, before Kimberly's Phoenix graduation. Abbi was very much into the graduation ceremony, and wrote on the mat around her mother's graduation photo, "Remember, Mom, tassels to the left." Kimberly set a fine example of being a student for her children and all three of them got the importance of doing well in school and looking forward to the next step. We will never see Abbi's or her sibling's next steps. Today, Abbi would be a senior at Oswego High School. But instead, she is lost to us as a 12-year-old. My email conversations with Abbi were cut off on June 14, 2007. That delightful, bright, curious girl was denied fulfilling her potential. Just walking away was always an option.
Sandi was a fun-loving, compassionate, bright 11-year-old. Sandi sparkled. When she moved to Illinois, she ran for student council in fourth grade after only being there a few days, and was elected. Her charm was infectious. Sandi was a great soccer player also, and loved "organizing" activities for her siblings, cousins and friends. She loved frogs, and shared her bedroom with two tree frogs. She was a lover of animals. At the time of her murder, Sandi was trying to convince Kimberly that she could handle having a dog walking business. She had her business plan all worked out. We will never know if Sandi's animal love would lead to a career with animals. She lost that opportunity on June 14, 2007. Sandi and I had a special bond also, and her email conversations often involved jokes. I had to search the Internet to find great frog jokes. Today, just seeing a frog, in any form, brings Sandi to mind and again a crack in my heart for what I lost and what might have been. What kind of person can take the life of such vivacious children?
Abbi, Sandi and Blake were scheduled to come visit us for about 10 days in July 2007. The girls were going to sew up the fabric Sandi and I selected, Blake was going to go to Cardinal games with his Opa. I had signed the girls up for a three day cooking school - a day for breakfast, lunch, and finally, dinner. Blake and I were going to do a brunch lesson for "Mom, Grandma and Me." We had planned to also go see a live production of "Peter Pan" at the Muny and also to attend the coming out party at Barnes and Noble for "Harry Potter" Book Seven. Blake was especially excited about that since he was too young to go when we took the girls to the coming out of Book Six. My heart was breaking when I went to Dierbergs to remove the grandchildren from the cooking school and move the fees over the floral department for funeral arrangements. Again, I had to comfort the staff and their tears, as I was breaking inside.
In 2007, after the murders, my usually normal blood pressure was much too high as well as my formerly normal cholesterol number went over 200. I was having panic attacks also. I was put on medications by my doctor and felt much more in control. And then school started. I thought I could do it, but driving past the school buses, and knowing that Abbi, Sandi, and Blake would never again ride on one, did me in. I had to leave school and was gone for two weeks. I began to see a grief therapist who, with my doctor, diagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I am still suffering from it, and still on the medications, and still see the therapist.
One of the symptoms of PTSD is not being able to sleep in the dark. I have a halo of light around me at night, but I usually do not fall asleep until daylight. For the past five years, I have felt out of the loop with my family. My other grandchildren have learned to accept my not being available for fun things during the mornings. Often when I do sleep, I have strange dreams involving Kimberly and my grandchildren. Often they are based on something that we had done together, but somehow become warped in the dream. Another symptom of PTSD is not doing things you formerly enjoyed. I love to sew and have an embroidery sewing machine, a serger, and several regular machines. I lay in bed thinking about sewing, but never get the oomph to get up and get something cut out and sewn, unless I have a time requirement. Then, there is no joy, just stress and stupid mistakes.
Del Phillips
(Father of Kimberly Vaughn)
Blake, the eight-year-old executed by the defendant, was named after me, my daughter Kim told me. Her contention was that she could only come close to Phillips with Philip, so he was named Blake Philip. On June 11, 2007, about three days before he was double-tapped by the defendant, with two nine-millimeter bullets, he hugged me. Precisely, he sat on my foot and held my leg for a long time. He just did not want to let go. I thought we had decades of hugs in the future. In retrospect, he seemed to have had an intuitive sense that we did not. He loved baseball, and I loved playing catch with him. Sir Blake loved to have plastic sword fights with me on the big stairs in his home. He was sensitive and bright. He would have contributed so much good to his world and mine.
I miss the little touches between our lives, the smiles from Abbi and Sandi of love and laughter after a group bike ride, the group hugs with the three kids and me, and the warm joy of just being in each other's company. The phone calls from Kim about her small victories and challenges in her daily walk as a young mother. All this is gone, permanently gone, and with it a sense of loss. Their absence is like a dark tunnel, with no entrance and no exit, tears are totally spent, and my internal pain for this loss is indescribable. This life changing tragedy is something that happens to others, not my family. The reality of this nightmare is difficult to grasp sometimes between tears but the absence of Kim's calls and the vision of those four caskets convinces me that it is real. And, I continue to ask God for the solace to deliver us from this evil and help our family find peace.
Nikki Isemann
(Older sister of Kimberly Vaughn)
My daughters live for the promise each angel cousins, Abbi, Sandi and Blake would have enjoyed and often alter their choices and preferences for things. Heidi has decorated her room with Tinkerbell, with Abbi's posters from Abbi's room and Abbi's fairy items. I don't know if Heidi really likes Tinkerbell, but Heidi's preference will be subjugated as she honors Abbi.
My daughter Ellie has the physical likeness and personality of Kim. As we marvel over this phenomenon in family photos time and again, my parents and I are slightly haunted by the fact that Kim is present if through my precious daughter. Ellie's laugh and mannerisms never cease to catch us off guard. My father is the one most affected by this striking resemblance to Kim, and in the first year after Kim's death it took great personal strength for him to remember, 'This is Ellie you're playing with, Nikki's daughter. Love your grandchild, not an apparition.'
Jennifer Ledbetter
(Twin sister of Kimberly Vaughn)
Though we lived many miles apart from the time we were married, we talked several times a week, and often several times a day to share our lives with each other. It seems like we talked to each other every time we got in the car to take the kids to or from school, soccer or baseball or band practices. Several times a day I think about picking up the phone and calling Kim to share my experiences, and I long to hear the same from her. I've still got her number in my phone, and I don't think I'll ever delete.
A concurrent pregnancy is one of the experiences Kim and I shared together. My youngest son Luke's birth date was 13 days before Blake's. He was eight at the time of the killings. Just after the deaths of his cousins and aunt, he endured the loss of one of his best friends to a brain tumor. He has been mostly stoic about both the death of his friend and the loss of his cousins. However, on that first Thanksgiving after the deaths of his cousins and aunt, my heart was broken when I walked into Luke's room to see him and his sister Ashley holding on tightly to each other as they cried so deeply for the loss of these treasured family members. I know he has deep felt emotions, and I pray this doesn't affect him adversely later in life.
After Kim and the kids were murdered, my husband and I helped pack up some of the belongings from each of the kids' rooms. My husband took it especially hard when he entered Blake's room for the first time. Blake's room was nearly identical to our own son's, right down to the Cub Scout uniform hanging on the hook. They both kept their rooms in immaculate condition, which we always thought was strange for our own eight-year-old boy, much less for his cousin. My husband still reflects on this day often with great sadness. I do as well, especially with the added knowledge that this was the only time I got to see Kim's cherished home.
Kim and I will not be able to share our milestone 40th birthday this year. My birthday continues to be very difficult for me, because it was Kim's as well, and we always shared it. I have occasions when I walk by the mirror and see Kim, or when the sound of my own laugh reminds me of her. I silently wonder if my parents and older sister experience pain in my presence because Kim and I share not only our looks, but many of our personality traits. I have a deep ache in my innermost being with the knowledge that the defendant, Christopher Vaughn, took a part of me. Kim and I were supposed to grow old together.
Kim, Abbi, Sandi and Blake will be missed every day from the time they drew their last breath until the day I draw mine. Our hearts ache in the knowledge that they were priceless to everyone but the one man who should have loved them more than his own life.
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