His Name Is Ron Read Online Free

Barbara Duben, and told them what had happened. Barb said that they would come over immediately. Then Patti called her mother, but had to leave a terse message on her answering machine, telling her to call as soon as possible. She placed a call to her father. When his wife, Alecia, answered, Patti said, in a cracking voice, “Have you been listening to the news?” Alecia said that she hadn’t, and Patti simply blurted out, “Ron has been murdered.” Immediately her dad was on the line and, in utter disbelief, asked, “How? Why? When? Who?”
    Of course, Patti had no answers. Her dad said they would be there as soon as possible.
    Within minutes, the Dubens were at our front door. They found me sitting in front of the television. My shoulders were slumped, tears sliding down my cheeks. My eyes were transfixed by the recurring image of my twenty-five-year-old son on the screen.
    Once more, Michael came down the stairs. As he passed by the front door, he saw our neighbors and good friends Andrea and Jim Ziegler turn into our street on their way home. Quickly he ran into the front yard, followed by Patti, and motioned for them to stop. He screamed, “Ron’s been murdered!”
    Andrea misunderstood. “What do you mean your mom’s been murdered?” Andrea snapped at him. “She’s standing right behind you!” They quickly ascertained the awful truth, and came inside to help.
    Barb called Rabbi Gary Johnson from our temple, and he hurried over to be with us. Then Barb and Andrea called several other friends, activating a support system.
    Patti’s mother phoned and, after receiving the news, broke into tears and said that she was on her way.
    The house filled quickly. It was the beginning of what is, in the Jewishtradition, a mitzvah (a good deed) to care for the needs of a family that has suffered a loss.
    The activity swirled about us. Patti and I sat on the sofa, clinging to one another, repeating the unanswerable question: “Why? Why? Why?”
    There was a knock on the front door. Barb opened it and Patti saw our landscaper, Adán, standing there. We had a 6:00 P.M. appointment with him.
    Patti rushed over. “We can’t do this,” she babbled. “Fred’s son was just killed and this is a really bad time, we can’t—you can’t—you’re just going to have to leave …” Patti simply shut the door, leaving Adán standing there.
    It dawned on Michael that Lauren was not home yet. Then he remembered that this was the day of her class trip to Disneyland, and he thought: It’s probably the only happy day she’ll have for a long, long time. Rob offered to pick up Lauren, and Michael volunteered to go along. Michael was still crying as Rob’s van pulled out of the driveway.
    â€œMichael, you need to try to control yourself in front of Lauren,” Rob reminded him.
    It is only a short drive to Medea Creek Middle School. As they approached, Michael saw Lauren waiting outside, along with her friends, twin sisters Jamie and Julie Berke. Lauren had a wide, bright smile on her face. She was searching the crowd, looking for her mother, but she was not too surprised to see Rob and Michael there instead. Our families often shared chauffeuring duties. She figured that her mom probably had some things to take care of at home.
    Along with Jamie and Julie, Lauren walked over to Rob’s van. The three girls scrambled into the backseat and started talking about their day. Lauren had found Disneyland disappointing; perhaps she was just getting too old for it, or maybe because she had been there so many times, the day seemed to drag. Now she was anxious to get home.
    Michael sat in the front seat, facing forward. He could not allow himself to speak. He could not look at his little sister. He knew that if he did, he would break down again. Lauren could tell that he was not acting like himself at all. Normally he would ask