I got an email from Steve W. from the Mizz*ou School of Journa*lism this morning. It was a relief to finally hear from him, since I�ve been in limbo about this for a few months now.
He sent me 5 questions to answer about my mom, the case and about Rodney�s lunatic stepdaughter. I answered them with all honesty.
Oh, and by the way, thank you all who left me notes or sent me email about the situation I got myself into�I appreciate all the love and support you all give me.
1. What can you tell me about your mother's life? I know some details, but I'd like to inform readers more completely about who she was and what she accomplished before her life ended so abruptly and awfully. Could you tell me about her upbringing, her parents, her siblings, her friends, her romances, the neighborhoods where she lived, her schooling, her mothering, her jobs...whatever you like?
The information I have about my mother is sketchy at best.
My mother, Joann was born May 3, 1947 to Lue and Walter C. She was their firstborn. Grandma was also very young; I think she was maybe 14 when she married my grandpa and 15 or 16 when my mother was born. That was just the way people did things back then. Marry early, have kids early.
From what I have gleaned from conversations among family members is that my Grandpa had a tough job to provide for his wife and 5 kids. I believe at one time he was a bus driver.
I believe the order of the Clenney children is Joann, D., Rachel, Abi and Nat.
At some point in their life, Lue and Walter came to St. Louis. My earliest memories are of a home on Mallinckrodt where Grandma lived upstairs and Grandpa lived downstairs. Grandma and Grandpa loved each other in their own little weird way, but they preferred their unique living arrangement.
We come from a long line of the working poor. At some point and time, all of us had a good job or two, but things never stayed that good. Our lives have always been rife with pain and struggle. We have joked, although it is not always funny, that the family was cursed a long time ago.
Things I don�t know: where Joann was born, where she was raised. However, I don�t believe she graduated high school, because my mother got married at a young age. I believe she was 15. His name was Raymond P. I believe they met in church. There was a child of this union, my older sister Melinda P.
My mother had a tendency to see the best in everybody, even Raymond, who had a drinking problem and who was abusive to my mother, putting her in the hospital a few times after severe beatings. Their relationship was tumultuous at best.
They divorced.
My mother dated. After all, she was a young woman and had emotional needs. My mother didn�t make the best choices in boyfriends. My father, Hershel T., was a hell-raising biker who was apt to pick up and move across the country at any time. He�d stay around long enough to make babies and he was off again. I don�t know exactly when my mother met Hershel, but she dated Herschel and a guy named Gustavo Abreu in 1973. That�s not really a lot, 2 guys in one year. There are women out there who date 2 guys a week. So I guess people should back off about my mother�s dating.
There has been some talk in the family about who my dad is..but I don�t really care. I�ve claimed Herschel and his family. I�m sure my mother would�ve told me myself who my father was, when I was old enough, but she didn�t have that chance.
I was born in 197* at Deaconess Hospital in St. Louis on October 12th. A month after I was born, my mother and her brother were driving to Chicago one winter night. An intoxicated man driving a tractor-trailer crossed the median and hit my mother�s car head on. It was an awful accident. My mother suffered broken arms, crushed knees, a broken leg, broken ribs, and fractured facial bones. My uncle Nat, who was a child at the time, suffered a massive head injury that required metal plates to be put in his head.
After that, life was very hard for my mom. She was permanently disabled and suffered from chronic pain. While Mom tried to work a few jobs, her disability kept her from doing anything for too long. I believe sometime in the next few years she turned her life around and went back to the religion of her youth. Much of our family was Pentecostal, and my earliest memories are of being in church constantly with my mom and Grandmother. My mother played the accordion, and both she and Grandma sang a lot.
As with any religious walk, mom experienced times of waxing and waning in her walk with God. Mom was known to go out occasionally, but as far as I know, she only ordered soda. Maybe she had a few sips of wine at home on occasion, but she was no lush.
Mom dated men from the neighborhood occasionally. It is unfortunate that the neighborhood was brimming with sex offenders. I think that is what made the investigation into my mom�s homicide so hard for the police. There was a lot of scum to choose from.
Despite having an occasional boyfriend or date, my mom always put my sisters and me first. We were very poor, but this I didn�t know until I was much older. I always felt important in my mom�s life and loved unconditionally. Her warmth was my sun. I lived for it. It sustained me.
My mother was a very funny lady. She was always playing practical jokes on friends and family. Quite a lot like myself, she thought her own jokes were the funniest and laughed like a lunatic when she said something funny.
Things I remember about my mother: her penchant for high heels, red lipstick and coffee. A church lady with some spunk, she was.
I cannot remember my mother�s face anymore. This distresses me so much. I look at pictures of her and see her but she is faceless in my memory now. I only have the feeling of her. What I felt like when she was around: happy, serene, loved, grounded, gleeful, and glad.
Renee was born in 1977. I joke and say that we found her in a dumpster and adopted her, but that�s not true. Renee was the baby of the family. Spoiled rotten and adored. Melinda and I doted on her, and she was momma�s little baby. Renee was very sickly though, and in addition to momma�s issues with chronic pain, she had a baby who would mysteriously get sick and run high fevers. This tried her patience to no end.
When mom met Rodney, I think she was in the process of settling down. She had a short marriage to my sister Rene�s father that didn�t pan out. It�s true. Papa was a rolling stone. He rolled right out of our lives and didn�t come back for a few years.
When mom was finally over Hershel, she started to date again. She had a boyfriend named Mike who I couldn�t stand. I thought he was an icky, nasty man. I couldn�t tell you why I didn�t like him, I just didn�t.
She only went out with Rodney a few times. The one time, I was with her. Rodney lived over on Minnesota with his mother. I remember driving there. We went over a viaduct. That I�ve never forgotten. Only back then, I called it a bridge. My vocabulary wasn�t as extensive when I was 6 as it is now. That is a sticking point with people who argue for Rodney�s innocence. It is my belief that they are grasping at straws though.
Rodney�s mother seemed nice enough. For some reason, I never forgot she liked beer. She had a beer in our hand for most of the visit.
After that, we didn�t seem him again until the attack.
After Rodney, mom started getting serious with a guy she�d known some years. His name was Jerry W. He was a nice young skinny guy with red hair. He had a steady job, he loved my mother, and he doted on us kids. I remember feeling this anticipation that my life was going to be wonderful from then on. They were supposed to get married later that year and life was going to be glorious.
I guess I was wrong.
Rodney changed all of that on April 27th, 1982. Mom was 36, I believe, when she was murdered.
2. What are you willing to tell me about the first seven years of your life, and what came after? I'm interested in your memories of your mother and the home where you lived with her, about other family members who love(d) you, about the places you lived after the murder/assault, about your schooling, your employment, your decision to become a mother...again, whatever you like.
Me. Well. I was a pretty happy kid. It didn�t take much to please me. Give me some candy and crayons and a piece of paper to draw on, and I was thrilled. I was an artiste�.
I got a lot of kicks out of playing tricks on my sisters and my mother. I remember getting in trouble for drawing boobs in a church hymnal one night. I got my butt tanned for that one, but all these years later, I still snicker about that. That�s just how I was. I have always found the human body the best subject of jokes and practical jokes.
We didn�t have a lot of money. Her welfare check didn�t cover much. When my mom was murdered, there was a bag of potatoes and a can of Crisco in the refrigerator. It was April 27th, a few days away from the first of the month, when momma would get that check.
I remember that about once a month, we�d have lunch with the firefighters over at Hyde Park. People were just nice to us, you know?
Mom sold Avon. I delighted in playing in her lipsticks and eye shadows when she would let me. I think that was how she got through some of the tightest times, by selling Avon.
We did a lot of stuff that was free. I remember going down on the St. Louis Riverfront, and that the sunflowers were taller than me. They seemed so huge! We found a turtle down there, and decided to keep her. Her name was Henrietta.
Our home was very small, modest and very simple. It is the only home where I remember what the inside looked like. It had a front room, which doubled as Momma�s bedroom. There was the middle room, which was me and Renee�s room. There was a small bathroom, and the kitchen. It was a tiny house. But Momma had a decorating touch, and she made it homey. Even though I hate them now, she could do something with doilies! She could make little cheap things look expensive. That was a gift she had.
The house was situated in an alley. Or, that was the entrance we used anyway.
My school was a block or two away, Clay Elementary. I was a straight A student there. I loved school and loved learning. I believe I learned to read in Head Start at Trinity Catholic Church when I was 4.
When Momma died, I was very sad. But I felt like people expected me to just get over it, so I smiled for everyone. Deep inside I was crying. At times, I wished my mother would come get me and take me with her. For years, even though I knew deep inside that she was gone, I refused to accept the finality of her death. I was not able to attend her funeral because I was in the hospital because of my injuries; thus, I was not able to say goodbye. To this day, I do not have closure.
My aunt Rachel and her husband Derwin took guardianship of Renee and me. Though I didn�t really know Derwin well, I was so thrilled to be with my favorite aunt. She was fun, sweet, and cheerful. Just a ball of light. I had some hope that life would be good from then on.
Renee and I were sent to counseling. I guess Aunt Rachel knew it was important, so we had some sessions. I remember a lot of play therapy.
Nicole was born to Rachel and Derwin a few months after they got us.
We moved to a mansion in Jefferson County some months after my last surgery. My uncle had a great job with MoPac, a railroad company.
It really was huge. And the kindness of strangers in St. Louis and around the world befell us. The entire huge living room was filled up with presents from as far away as Africa that first Christmas.
That first year after my mom died was hell. There were the surgeries, the trial and school. Kids picked on me relentlessly because I had no parents and worse, I had to wear a colostomy bag under my clothes. Oh, and I had scars all over. Big, red, angry scars that everyone can see.
I also dealt with nightmares. Horrible nightmares and flashbacks.
I felt so small and insignificant. All of the love of my family and friends could not heal me. I was hurting so much inside.
Eventually life does get better and it did for me. We moved to another city in Missouri and we settled in.
My aunt got a job at a Photo Lab and my uncle Derwin started work in construction. I don�t remember having a lot of money after he lost his job with MoPac, but we didn�t want for anything.
Those were happy years. We went camping, fishing, swimming. We did a lot of family things, and I know Rachel captured all of that with her camera. My favorite thing was visiting with my cousins when our family did get together.
It did seem like the family was closer then. I think the tragedy that happened to us brought us all closer together. I mean, people still had their little issues with each other but love was the glue. You know?
In 1986 or 1987, I was almost 12. Derwin got a job in Martin, Tennessee. So we moved from Crystal City Missouri to Martin. That was a huge move, and thus started the isolation from my mother�s family in St. Louis.
Derwin�s personality started to change too. I guess with me approaching puberty he felt he had to start coming down on me really hard about everything. I became so stressed that I would go out of my way to avoid him. Rachel would always intercede and would stay between us. Even so, he started to become authoritarian.
I�m not sure how long we lived there. 6 months? But then Aunt Rachel, who was 33 years old and had just given birth, started to act strangely. Around that time, we all started to suspect my uncle was having an affair with this trailer tramp that lived in our mobile home park. The formerly sunny Rachel went from being a smiling force of nature to a frowning, sullen person who sat in the dark all the time. She started to complain of severe headaches.
One day, September 3, 1987, Renee and I got off the school bus. There was a note on the door from Rachel that she had gone next door because she had bombed our house for fleas.
We went next door, and the lady who lived there met us at the door. She informed us that our aunt was at the hospital. That�s all she said.
A short time later, Derwin came and got us.
At the hospital, we saw our whole family. That�s when I knew something was wrong�because it had been quite a while since we�d seen them.
He led Renee and I into the room, where Aunt Rachel lay still in a hospital bed. I was so shocked at seeing her that way.
That�s when Derwin says, �You see her? This is what you girls did to her. You drove her to this..� I was speechless.
Aunt Rachel was taken off life support some hours later. A cerebral hemorrhage had robbed her of her life.
It was quite possibly, the worst year of my life. I wad devastated, and Renee was lost. Renee was only 10 years old, and had lost her 2nd mother figure in her short little life.
Derwin married the trailer tramp a month after Rachel, his wife of 5 years, died.
After Rachel died, he became extremely emotionally, physically and mentally abusive. The next 3 years of my life was hell. He also began to fondle me and molest me. I was so scared of him that when he came home, I would start to shake.
When I was 15, I got slapped one last time. Renee and I ran away. My mother�s cousin took us in, and he helped us get back to St. Louis to be with our family.
We stayed with different family members, but it was hard to find a home with people who could deal with teenagers with such mental and emotional baggage. Derwin had driven it into us that we were useless, and worthless and of no value to anyone.
I ended up with my older sister Melinda and her husband. However, I was also in state custody at that point. Up until that time, I had made straight A�s in school. I didn�t do drugs. I was a good kid.
However, being 16 and dealing with the prospect of being in state custody till the age of 21 was too much to bear. I ran away from my sister�s home. I slept in my boyfriend�s closet, in his car, stayed with friends. I could�ve ended up on the street, you know.
Eventually, I ended up at the home of my friend Maggie B. We went to high school together and she was my best friend.
A short stay turned into a long one, and pretty soon we went to court. Cindy E, Maggie�s mom, had chosen to give me a home and a family.
My first real home in years, at the age of 17. All the support and unconditional love a girl could ever ask for was at my fingertips.
Because I had quit school for 3 months when I was living with my sister, I had to go to a lot of summer school. I did end up graduating in the top 1/3 of my class at McCluer North, just a month later than my classmates, in 1993.
Right after I graduated high school, I went to college at Florissant Valley Jr. College. At the time, I was just looking to get a General degree, because I really wasn�t sure what I wanted to do with my life. I did well the first year. In addition to a full class schedule, I also worked at the Day care on campus.
I screwed up in college my 5th semester. I fell in with the wrong crowd and pretty much partied my butt off. I ended up dropping out of college at the end of that semester. Going to frat houses and clubs was not going to make me a better person.
I was bored. One day, a Navy recruiter called my house, and the next day I was down at MEPS swearing in. I was put on the delayed entry program for 6 months.
My best friend Elisa and I ended up moving to New Orleans. I loved it there. It was the best time of my life. I believe I lived there for 4 months.
For the first time in my life I felt free of the things that had bound me most of my life. Fear, sadness, anger, agony, regret.
I went into Navy boot camp in June of 1995. Boot camp was very hard. I lost about 40 pounds. But I did it. I was determined I was going to finish the one thing that I had started.
I graduated boot camp in August of 1995.
My training school was in San Diego, California. I had a blast there. I had chosen the communications field �Radioman�.
I felt like I had really found my niche in the military. I loved it.
I was in San Diego a few months when I met my future husband. It was lust at first sight, and Shayne and I were married in November of 1995. I was 21 years old.
I had asked to go to Japan, Spain or Italy on my first duty assignment but I was sent to Jacksonville, Florida instead. Shayne went to the USS Taylor, a frigate, in Mayport, Florida.
We struggled a lot. And this was about the time when I started to have some real issues with the things that had happened in my life. I started to fall into these deep depressions. I had to deal with crying jags constantly. I had panic attacks and nightmares. It was tough.
My new husband, barely 18 � years old, was ill equipped to deal with my emotional issues. He would just sit and listen to me cry and sob. At one point, I begged him to leave me and find someone that was normal. He wouldn�t have any of that though, and he stuck around.
It was awful, but for the first time in my life, away from my family, I felt like I could really grieve for what I had lost; my innocence.
During the attack in 1982, Rodney had knifed me in the vagina. Because of this injury, I was told I would not likely have children. So, Shayne and I forged ahead in our relationship. We decided to adopt children after we fulfilled our obligation to the Navy. I knew even then that this was no life for a person with kids.
However, God heard my prayers. In July of 1996 I found out I was pregnant. I was so happy.
Jacquelyn was born March 3, 1997 at 12:03 am, her due date. It was that precise moment in time that I didn�t feel alone in the world. I had my husband, but I knew this sweet little angel would be the only person in the world to love me back the way I loved her.
My husband left me about 11 months later. Some say we were too young. Some say that because he was out to sea all the time and I was working such odd hours, we never had a chance.
To this day, I don�t know why it didn�t work out.
The Navy was one of my first loves in my life. But it became apparent as time went on, that I could not serve my country and equally be a mother to my daughter. The job was so stressful.
Plus the weight I had put on with my pregnancy, I never was able to lose. They hounded me every chance they got, like I didn�t know I was fat and not within regulations.
For the last 3 years in the military, I was on remedial PT 4 days a week. Did I ever lose a pound? No.
I left the Navy in June 2000, after 5 years, with an honorable discharge.
I moved back to St. Louis, and because of lack of funds, got a job working at Home Decorators Collection. I did that for a year. Then, I got hired on as a contractor for the Department of Defense. I work at N*%. I cannot disclose the nature of my job, only that it is a wonderful place to work.
A few years ago, I started to get involved in Victim�s Rights and Advocacy. Now, it is my passion. If I could go back to college to do Victim�s Advocacy or Criminal Justice and pay my living expenses, I would do it. I want to make a difference in the world.
People who have lost a loved one to murder need to know that there are people out there who know what it feels like and who care what they are going through. I have a big enough mouth to stand up and say what needs to be said. Besides, I think its people like me who make the best advocates.
3. I know this will be sensitive, but I'm wondering about the permanent impact of the physical and emotional injuries sustained by you and your sister during the assault. How would you suggest I describe those impacts?
I will speak about Renee first. Renee was 4 years old when this happened. Rodney slit her little throat in 3 places and she had lacerations to the back of her skull. The way he threw her back on the bed when he was done with her, somehow allowed the blood to clot. However, she did almost die. When the found her she was cold and blue and moribund.
My injuries: a collapsed lung, lacerations to the face, chest, fingers, and arms. A lot of defensive wounds.
The worst of it happened when I was lying on my stomach trying to get away from him. He knifed me from the top of my buttocks all the way down to the top of my vagina. The surgeon said these were the worst injuries he�d ever seen.
I was in a wheelchair for a while. Oh, and I was a source of curiosity for the doctors on my floor.
I had, I think 3-4 surgeries on my lower abdomen and genital area. Once we were out of the dark concerning the loss of blood and the collapsed lung, they commenced rebuilding my vaginal area. I know there�s some plastic in there. At one point, I had a colostomy. It was weird to go to the bathroom through holes in my abdomen.
The physical scars healed in time. However, I am emotionally scarred forever. My doctor thinks I have bipolar disorder. I am not sure. At the time I was diagnosed I was dealing with the Justice Departments Review of Rodney�s case. I was dealing with sleeplessness, panic attacks, stomach problems, nightmares, night terrors, heart palpitations, severe headaches, unexplained body aches and general pain.
Even now, with all the stress, I have my moments. The night terrors have decreased, but they are still there. I still can see clearly the events of that night. It�s like the night is always hitting replay and repeat. My mom is still on that floor, in my mind. Part of me believes she is in heaven, but a small part of me believes she will always be in that house, dying, on that floor, until I get justice for her.
There is the emotional pain of knowing what I have lost. When I was a child, it was the youthful yearning of motherly love. Now, I have moments where I wish my mom was here, but she is not. No amount of yearning is ever going to bring her back.
4. Kay L. (Rodney�s step-daughter) figures into the Post-Dispatch story, too. Have you ever met her in person? Have you ever spoken with her on the telephone? Corresponded with her in any way? How should I describe your feelings toward her?
I have never met Kay. I�ve never spoken to her on the phone either. No correspondence at all.
I�d like to say I have no feelings toward her. But I do. I pity her. I despise her. I cannot stand it when I have to look at her on the news sputtering out these little factoids that she thinks makes her case.
She�s sort of dim, you know. Yeah, she�s done her research, so she thinks she�s got this all down. But the fact remains, she was not there. She doesn�t know. I think if Rodney told her he did it, she wouldn�t believe him. She�s chasing the impossible dream that he is innocent.
I have no desire to meet this girl. I think she is a lost, misguided little person, doing Rodney�s bidding, who doesn�t care about the pain she inflicts on my family. I think that the �facts� that she thinks she has aren�t really facts at all, maybe they are coincidences.
She keeps harping on the fact that I was a little girl when this happened and how anyone could believe what I said is beyond her. I have an eight-year-old daughter, who is quite a lot like I was. Smart, precocious, has a great memory. I believe her when she tells me another person hurts her.
Well, the facts of the case never changed. Yes, I was traumatized. Yes, I had the wrong name for the guy. I mean, if someone tried to kill you and chopped you up and killed your mom, you would think that people would understand if you gave them the wrong name�
But the description matched. I knew where he lived. I knew who he was. That never changed.
The fact that I hadn�t seen the guy in months and suddenly he comes into my house and murders my mom and tries to kill me and my sister is something she can never change. No matter what little points she wants to bring up. It doesn�t change the fact that Rodney killed before my mom. It doesn�t change the fact that he already had a record for burglary and driving someone�s car without permission, which I consider to be theft. He was no winner, that�s for sure.
Rodney was definitely plucked from the shallow end of the gene pool, and I�m pretty sure Kay comes from a similar pool. No offense, of course.
5. About the case against Rodney: One detail especially puzzles me, and that involves his missing finger. It seems like a prominent physical trait. Yet I can find no mention of the missing finger in any of the case-related documents. Did you ever notice the missing finger? Did you mention it to anybody? If so, I would appreciate details to the best of your recollection.
I tell you, that the events of that night were so heinous. I don�t ever recollect anything about his hands, except that there was a knife in them. And that they killed my mother. And tried to kill my little sister.
And now that I know about it, those hands also killed another man, years before he met my mom.
But I don�t recall anything about his finger. Obviously, it just wasn�t important to me.
1:07 pm - June 09, 2005
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