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Halloween is upon us. So many of us enjoy all the spookiness and candy that surrounds the holiday. I, too, get a kick out of the whole thing, but for a different reason than most; I am grateful for all the distractions the holiday brings.
The end of October is a very sad time of year for me. Why, you may ask; well, you see, 24 years ago in late August, my best friend Charlene Hopkins Babcock and her husband Joe were murdered in Arizona. Subsequently, I spent my 1994 Labor Day weekend reeling in emotional agony, while walking through desert sand helping their families scatter the ashes of our loved ones.
Today would have been Charlene’s 63rd birthday.
Charlene and I were best buddies since second grade at Signal Hill Elementary School. Living just around the corner from one another made it easy for us to spend time together after school on weekends and on school breaks. We were pretty much inseparable until junior high, when she went off to school to Long Beach’s St. Anthony School and I to Jefferson Junior High and then to Wilson High School.
We stayed close in our adult years, even when she moved to Kingman, Arizona to, in her words, “get away from all the people and the crime.”
Unfortunately, we didn’t have internet or Facebook in those days, so we couldn’t connect by computer, but we visited each other as often as we could and spent time on the phone chatting and sharing stories as often as we could.
The morning after the murders, Aug. 28, 1994, I received a call from Charlene’s brother Alvin telling me of the horrible tragedy surrounding her death and the death of her husband, Joe. According to Alvin, two men (later identified as Allen Nicklasson and Dennis Skillicorn) went to my friend’s home and got her husband to help them get their car out of a sandy ditch. While Joe was assisting them, they murdered him and then went back to the house and killed Charlene. After the dastardly deed was done, the men left their own vehicle behind and stole my friend’s truck.
The men then took off down the highway. The killers had also murdered several other innocent people on a cross-country rampage before and after they took the lives of my friends. Thanks to the television show “America’s Most Wanted,” the murderers were eventually apprehended and convicted.
On the 20th anniversary of the tragedy, I reluctantly checked the internet to see if I could find out whatever happened with the case. I knew that the two murderers had been convicted, I just hadn’t looked further into the matter. I guess I was afraid that they might be paroled after serving 20 years.
I discovered that Skillicorn had, in 2009, been put to death in that state as part of a death-penalty conviction for a murder he committed in Missouri before the Babcock killings. Nicklasson, who was convicted of all the above as well, was executed in Missouri in December of 2013. All in all, these men took the lives of six people in three states and in Mexico.
When I read the news of the killers’ deaths, I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t feel happy, sad, angry, elated or any of the other usual emotions one might expect. In fact, I didn’t know how to categorize my feelings at the time, and I still don’t. I do know I was relieved that these two dastardly individuals, now deceased, will never again hurt another human being or break the hearts of those who were left behind to grieve.
My darling, sweet Charlene was the kindest soul I’ve ever known. She was an angel on earth and is celebrating today another birthday in heaven… my lovely angel with wings. Rest in peace, my friend.