Post by CCADP on Aug 12, 2005 12:11:46 GMT -5
Villager becomes victims' rights activist after son's tragic death
By THERESA CAMPBELL, DAILY SUN
THE VILLAGES - Call it a mother's intuition, but Villager Phyllis Hotchkiss knew something was wrong.
She had dozed off and dreamt that she and her youngest son, Brian, were on their favorite Disney ride, then he walked away with angels in long flowing dresses.
"I woke up so fast, and it was like a bolt of lightning had gone through my body, and my stomach was sick. I knew something was wrong. I looked at the clock and it was 1 o'clock in the morning," she said, recalling the wee hours of June 25, 1989, when the family was living in Saugus, Mass.
Brian had just turned 19 when he was found murdered near a junk yard in a neighboring town. The death certificate showed he died at 1 a.m.
Paul Waterson III had been a high school acquaintance of Brian's. Hotchkiss remembers she never cared for Waterson, who later was arrested in connection with Brian's death. According to Steve O'Connell, spokesman for the Essex County District Attorney's Office, Waterson pleaded guilty to and was convicted of manslaughter in December 1991.
On this particular occasion, Waterson had come by the house and invited Brian to go to a carnival.
"I really wish you wouldn't go out with him," Hotchkiss told her son.
Brian gave his mother a big hug and kiss and told her not to worry.
And that was the last time she saw her son alive.
A long wait for justice
Much higher-profile murder cases were making the headlines in Massachusetts at the time Brian was killed, and Hotchkiss found it frustrating.
"When you lose a son to murder, you cannot imagine the rage and hate that is inside of you," she said. "And I'm not a violent person. ... I told my husband, 'That's it. I've had it, I'm going public.' "
She held a memorial service for her son - and press conferences.
"For 18 months, I kept it in the media and I found some wonderful reporters who were with us all the way," she said. "We were basically embarrassing the state police and the DA's office, and I wasn't going to give up."
Waterson was arrested in December 1990 and convicted in 1991 on charges of manslaughter after he plea-bargained down from charges of first-degree murder and armed robbery. He was released in 2002.
The Villager embarked on her own mission while Watterson was behind bars: She began lobbying on Beacon Hill in Boston to help get laws changed to ensure more rights for victims. She ran a chapter of Parents of Murdered Children and joined Murder Victims Families for Reconciliation.
"I also did a prison program in which I went into the prisons and talked with convicted murders to let them see a face and hear a story of the pain that is caused by the murder of a loved one," she said. "And that was the beginning of my healing, I can honestly say. I would meet five or six men at a time, each group for a period of about three months. I would tell my story and I would read my victim impact statement, which was full of anger."
She remembers some of the inmates broke down in tears.
"They had never thought about that," she said.
The mother also found some of the convicts who had been in prison for long terms, 15 to 30 years, were the most remorseful for their crimes.
"Before I went into the prisons, I used to call anyone in prison 'human garbage' and that was my anger coming out," she said, "and when I started doing the program, and they started telling me their stories, I started seeing them as human beings."
Yet, she did not show them any sympathy.
" 'I don't care what happened in your life, there is no excuse for murder,' " she said she told the inmates. She wanted them to see that their actions had hurt two families.
A change of views
Hotchkiss' prison visits also changed her views of the death penalty.
"When Brian was murdered, I was 100 percent for the death penalty," she said, adding she now believes convicts should serve a life sentence rather than sit on death row.
"I have a lot of faith, and I know that only God has the right to take a life, and not anybody else," she said, adding that most of her family, including Duane, her husband of 42 years, believe in the death penalty.
"We have healthy debates," she said, smiling gently.
"I don't want to be known as a mother of a murdered son. I want to be known as Brian's mother," Hotchkiss said, adding she also wants to write a book about her experiences with the hope that it helps other victims.
"You don't have to sit back; you can fight," she said. "You can help do things to get the laws changed, and you can make a difference."
Brian Hotchkiss' name and story is on the traveling wall of Parents of Murdered Children, and Hotchkiss said an award is given out every June in his memory, to a Boy Scout from Troop 61 of Saugus to attend camp.
Hotchkiss' story is featured in several books, including the latest, published in June: "Murdering Myths, The Story Behind the Death Penalty" by Judith Kay; and also in "Heavenly Visitors" by Lawrence J. Gavlak; "God's Gift of Love" by Christine Marie Duminiak; and "Childlight" by Donna Theisin and Dary Matera.
Angel figurines fill Hotchkiss' home, which gives the Villager comfort. She thinks of her son daily.
"He's always with me," she said.
"I had a dream one time that Brian and I were in the kitchen. I was washing dishes and he was drying," she said, recalling that Brian asked her, 'Do you want to see where I am now?'
"It was unbelievable. I was standing with Brian in this beautiful field of glowing flowers, and standing there feeling all of this peace and love," she said, adding that she was eager to see more.
"Mom, you can't. It's not your time," she remembers Brian telling her.
Hotchkiss felt sad when she awakened, and she shared her dream with an author who was interviewing her at the time. "He said, 'Phyllis, that was not a dream. You had an out-of-body experience.' "
Dream or not, Hotchkiss remembers her son telling her he was very happy. Those words gave her comfort.
"And I know," she said, smiling gently, "I am going to get to see him again some day."
Theresa Campbell is senior features writer with the Daily Sun. She can be reached at 753-1119, ext. 9260, or theresa.campbell@thevillagesmedia.com.
By THERESA CAMPBELL, DAILY SUN
THE VILLAGES - Call it a mother's intuition, but Villager Phyllis Hotchkiss knew something was wrong.
She had dozed off and dreamt that she and her youngest son, Brian, were on their favorite Disney ride, then he walked away with angels in long flowing dresses.
"I woke up so fast, and it was like a bolt of lightning had gone through my body, and my stomach was sick. I knew something was wrong. I looked at the clock and it was 1 o'clock in the morning," she said, recalling the wee hours of June 25, 1989, when the family was living in Saugus, Mass.
Brian had just turned 19 when he was found murdered near a junk yard in a neighboring town. The death certificate showed he died at 1 a.m.
Paul Waterson III had been a high school acquaintance of Brian's. Hotchkiss remembers she never cared for Waterson, who later was arrested in connection with Brian's death. According to Steve O'Connell, spokesman for the Essex County District Attorney's Office, Waterson pleaded guilty to and was convicted of manslaughter in December 1991.
On this particular occasion, Waterson had come by the house and invited Brian to go to a carnival.
"I really wish you wouldn't go out with him," Hotchkiss told her son.
Brian gave his mother a big hug and kiss and told her not to worry.
And that was the last time she saw her son alive.
A long wait for justice
Much higher-profile murder cases were making the headlines in Massachusetts at the time Brian was killed, and Hotchkiss found it frustrating.
"When you lose a son to murder, you cannot imagine the rage and hate that is inside of you," she said. "And I'm not a violent person. ... I told my husband, 'That's it. I've had it, I'm going public.' "
She held a memorial service for her son - and press conferences.
"For 18 months, I kept it in the media and I found some wonderful reporters who were with us all the way," she said. "We were basically embarrassing the state police and the DA's office, and I wasn't going to give up."
Waterson was arrested in December 1990 and convicted in 1991 on charges of manslaughter after he plea-bargained down from charges of first-degree murder and armed robbery. He was released in 2002.
The Villager embarked on her own mission while Watterson was behind bars: She began lobbying on Beacon Hill in Boston to help get laws changed to ensure more rights for victims. She ran a chapter of Parents of Murdered Children and joined Murder Victims Families for Reconciliation.
"I also did a prison program in which I went into the prisons and talked with convicted murders to let them see a face and hear a story of the pain that is caused by the murder of a loved one," she said. "And that was the beginning of my healing, I can honestly say. I would meet five or six men at a time, each group for a period of about three months. I would tell my story and I would read my victim impact statement, which was full of anger."
She remembers some of the inmates broke down in tears.
"They had never thought about that," she said.
The mother also found some of the convicts who had been in prison for long terms, 15 to 30 years, were the most remorseful for their crimes.
"Before I went into the prisons, I used to call anyone in prison 'human garbage' and that was my anger coming out," she said, "and when I started doing the program, and they started telling me their stories, I started seeing them as human beings."
Yet, she did not show them any sympathy.
" 'I don't care what happened in your life, there is no excuse for murder,' " she said she told the inmates. She wanted them to see that their actions had hurt two families.
A change of views
Hotchkiss' prison visits also changed her views of the death penalty.
"When Brian was murdered, I was 100 percent for the death penalty," she said, adding she now believes convicts should serve a life sentence rather than sit on death row.
"I have a lot of faith, and I know that only God has the right to take a life, and not anybody else," she said, adding that most of her family, including Duane, her husband of 42 years, believe in the death penalty.
"We have healthy debates," she said, smiling gently.
"I don't want to be known as a mother of a murdered son. I want to be known as Brian's mother," Hotchkiss said, adding she also wants to write a book about her experiences with the hope that it helps other victims.
"You don't have to sit back; you can fight," she said. "You can help do things to get the laws changed, and you can make a difference."
Brian Hotchkiss' name and story is on the traveling wall of Parents of Murdered Children, and Hotchkiss said an award is given out every June in his memory, to a Boy Scout from Troop 61 of Saugus to attend camp.
Hotchkiss' story is featured in several books, including the latest, published in June: "Murdering Myths, The Story Behind the Death Penalty" by Judith Kay; and also in "Heavenly Visitors" by Lawrence J. Gavlak; "God's Gift of Love" by Christine Marie Duminiak; and "Childlight" by Donna Theisin and Dary Matera.
Angel figurines fill Hotchkiss' home, which gives the Villager comfort. She thinks of her son daily.
"He's always with me," she said.
"I had a dream one time that Brian and I were in the kitchen. I was washing dishes and he was drying," she said, recalling that Brian asked her, 'Do you want to see where I am now?'
"It was unbelievable. I was standing with Brian in this beautiful field of glowing flowers, and standing there feeling all of this peace and love," she said, adding that she was eager to see more.
"Mom, you can't. It's not your time," she remembers Brian telling her.
Hotchkiss felt sad when she awakened, and she shared her dream with an author who was interviewing her at the time. "He said, 'Phyllis, that was not a dream. You had an out-of-body experience.' "
Dream or not, Hotchkiss remembers her son telling her he was very happy. Those words gave her comfort.
"And I know," she said, smiling gently, "I am going to get to see him again some day."
Theresa Campbell is senior features writer with the Daily Sun. She can be reached at 753-1119, ext. 9260, or theresa.campbell@thevillagesmedia.com.