Free Lethal Guardian by M. William Phelps

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    Buzz’s body had been released by the medical examiner’s office on March 16. The Clintons, nearly a week after Buzz had been killed, could finally put him to rest. Dee Clinton had already said good-bye to her son on the day he was murdered. The funeral, she later said, was just a way to say good-bye to his body.
    Dee and her family were, of course, devastated by the loss. In many ways, Buzz had been the center of the Clinton family. Now he was gone. Just like that: one minute he was here; the next he wasn’t.
    Interviewed by a local newspaper, Dee told a reporter that Buzz had visited her on the day of his murder only moments before he was killed. She claimed his “mood was upbeat” when he walked out of the house. He was especially happy, Dee noted, “about his wife’s pregnancy and a new job he was due to begin at a Groton convalescent home.
    “Everything was wonderful. He was thrilled. His life was fine.”
    On March 17, St. Patrick’s Day, as a slight rain fell and a cool breeze blew umbrellas out of people’s hands, a service was held at the Clintons’ parish, Christ the King Roman Catholic Church.
    Earlier that morning, Cynthia Carpenter had called with some rather disturbing news. Dick had been in an accident. His car had slid off the road. Dick escaped without serious injury, but his car was totaled and he was shaken up a bit. Cynthia said she’d watch the children while Dee and the rest of the Clintons buried Buzz. On the surface, it seemed like a noble gesture.
    Before family and friends headed off to the cemetery, near the end of the short church ceremony, Dee stood up and read from a eulogy she had spent days composing. Buck Clinton had been a staple on the wrestling circuit in state for years. He coached high-school wrestling and held on to a passion for the sport. When the Clintons showed up at the wake the previous night, it was a comforting feeling to see that Buck’s entire wrestling team, wearing their wrestling jackets, had been bused in to support the family.
    Garbed in a black dress, Dee first addressed the crowd by stating that she was the person who likely knew Buzz best. A spiritual woman, Dee closed her opening by saying, “I believe God picks out special children to send to us so we can learn something.”
    Attendees, drying eyes and whimpering softly, were captivated by Dee’s remarkable strength and candid demeanor. When she spoke, it was easy to tell where Buzz had gotten his strong disposition. Dee was a powerful person, not afraid of anyone. She was going to speak her mind today—regardless of what anyone thought.
    This was Buzz’s day.
    “I don’t think there is one person who has crossed Buzz’s path who doesn’t have a story to tell about him,” Dee said.
    Some people nodded. Others broke into half smiles through their anguish.
    “God has carried me over some bumpy roads, and He has granted my family with more miracles than we probably deserve.”
    People who knew Dee weren’t shocked by her display of gratitude. She had always been a person who never took anything for granted. Here was a woman who had just lost a son to the hand of a violent murderer, and she was speaking of how lucky she and her family were. Her strength was astonishing.
    Years ago, it was discovered that Suzanne, Dee’s middle child, had a bone tumor. The prayers from friends and family, Dee explained, had apparently helped “make another miracle possible.” Suzanne beat it. She was fine now. “Buzz would have given his life to save his sister,” Dee recalled later. “He was overwhelmed by Suzanne’s pain.”
    Buzz had married and divorced before he met Kim. His first wife, Lisa, had bore him a son, Michael.
    “The marriage ended,” Dee explained to the crowd, “but not our relationship—and Lisa is wonderful [for] letting us share in the joy of Michael.”
    She second-guessed herself for having scolded Buzz for getting Kim pregnant shortly before he was killed.
    “I read him the