My name is Susan, I am about the same age as you. I am the oldest of my parents two children. I was Dad's only daughter. My Dad was only 65 yrs old. My Dad had done many different things with his life.
He did live quite an adventure. He was always teaching me to do the things you want to do. Don't let someone else run your life and sit behind a desk you hate for 30 yrs. He had been hurt badly in his life from several accidents, hit by a car on his bicycle, one time a wreck with him and a Greyhound bus escaping serious injuries and even I believe death many other times. He had recently been ill with a weak heart and suffered heart failure in November 2000, and even once when I was a child he was lost at sea for a short time. My DAD was invincible to me. I thought he could survive anything.
A few of his greatest passions were that he enjoyed meeting new people, getting to know them, helping them in any way he could, and working with them. He would always put someone to work. Everyone in his own mind was capable and deserved to have their own chance.
Dad also loved tools & fixing all types of things, and now, forever in my mind a hammer -- an object he used through out his life, doing the things he loved to do, is now an object that each and EVERY time I see a hammer
I see and feel the horror that must have been for my Dad at the time of his death -- Dying alone, in a garage, on the cold floor haunts me each night, when I lay down for bed at the end of each day.
My life the past few years has been a challenge in itself. My friends and family know the pain I've gone through even BEFORE THIS. Without my Dad and my family and friends, I would have never made it through the past 2-3 yrs. And now, he's gone forever. I can never hear his voice, see his face, or hug him. He will not see his grand-daughter grow or be there for her.
I wonder how could this be true? Is this for real? This really happened to me? I am just a girl in a town in Oregon - how can a homicide - a murder - this type of violence have entered my life?
How will I be able to watch TV, read the newspapers, or even go to an action film without hurting and feeling the pain of the violence this act that now is a part my life?
I have changed my view of the human race . It is indeed true
Bad things can happen to anyone, even to harmless good people.
My father helped everyone he could, in any way that he was able to. He had suffered and lost so much in his own life. Then finally Dad I believe had just found his way to real a self-happiness in just past year of his life. He had just really begun to enjoy his role as a grandfather, now cut very short. He didn't deserve such a tragic death. No one does.
How could you, take his life?
How could you leave him locked in his garage, and then even have the nerve to return to his home and take more from him? I'll never know what all you stole in physical property or what your real reason was for taking his life is. Will I?
EVERY DAY . I look up to my Dad's young business picture. (I HELD THIS LARGE PICTURE IN FRONT OF THE COURTROOM) This is the picture that overlooks me at my desk. I hold the keys to his car (I JINGLED THESE KEYS IN FRONT OF THE COURT ROOM, Danny had lost them.... at one point in his crime.. somehow I ended up with them. He had to break into Dad's house to try to find them, he cut himself, he couldn't find them and he left them... I HAVE THEM) that he no longer can drive. I continue to run one of his small business ventures and sell his products on his behalf. Keeping his spirit of what he taught me. Be nice, help when you can, and someday it will come back to you. I'm trying hard to believe that still.
My only wish is that someday, you Danny Flack can tell me the truth . Why?
Why you took my DAD, a man that never
Why did you pick HIM?
Why did you feel that you had the right to take what you want and end his life and deprive him of a natural death, where his friends and family could have the chance to say their goodbyes.
Dad used to say, "Don't give me any Flack." I find that the most ironic thing of all.
Also he told me almost every phone call we had in the last month of his life
"Suzie, always remember, God
doesn't make crap." He believed this. I want to believe this. But at this
time, I just can't. Dad was wrong, I now believe that maybe even god makes mistakes