An open letter
to Barbara Vogt

By PATTIE PETKUS SMITH

Dear Barbara,

I cried when I read the headline in the paper, “Family Accepts Murder Plea to Spare Child from Testifying.” That aching feeling in the pit of my stomach returned, like it has so many times since your death. The recent media coverage of the impending trial, and your son J.T.’s account of what happened that morning, have highlighted the pain and grief that I still feel for the tragedy that happened to you and your son. I don’t think a day has goes by when I don’t think of you.

At first, I was just in shock and disbelief that you were gone. I didn’t want to get too many of the details. That this had happened to you and J.T. was detail enough. In these last several weeks, though, I have found myself reading the various accounts in the paper more than once, saving them in a drawer with the other clippings. I am a bit stronger now in facing this, and realize I have come up painfully inadequate in helping others deal with your passing.

It was so hard trying to explain to my son what happened that morning. I know my role as his mother is to help him feel safe, and to answer his questions in a way that would reassure him that God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.

Two weeks after your death, J.T. was lying on my couch watching a movie with us. I was acutely aware of the violent nature of the movie and suggested that we watch something else. Your son told me he had seen this movie before and it was fine. I instinctively wanted to shield your child and mine from reminders of death, killing and violence that our society, and we as individuals, have become so desensitized to. I realized that our sons had both lost their innocence. I struggled to comfort your son, but for once this counselor was at a loss, and still is. I’m sure my experience of shock and grief is similar to that of many other women and their sons and daughters whom you and J.T. were close with.

We all are experiencing our own levels of post-traumatic stress. Our sons and daughters don’t feel as safe now when we leave them home alone for a while. There are subtle differences. I have started locking my own door. I used to be proud to live in such a small, safe town that was somewhat remote from the real world when it came to crime and violence. I have lost my innocence, too, with your death.

Your sister and I have gotten closer. I don’t see her often, but when I do, we have a good cry, doing our best to comfort and console each other.

Before ending this letter, which, by the way, feels very therapeutic, I have to talk about this whole death penalty thing. When talk of the death penalty came up for your killer, I admit I was not opposed, although theoretically and philosophically I believe that the death penalty is wrong. We shouldn’t repay violence with violence. This being said, there was part of me that wanted to see Schroedel fry. In the end, though, that this will not be the case seems right to me. Healing is what we all need—first and foremost, your son, and then your family and all your friends. You do have a lot, you know, Barbara.

Your friend always,
Pattie