A Little Girl’s Fate

Paul and Teri Boehm had returned from Tucson in the winter of 1990. They were so broke that Shirley Loepker agreed to put them up in the Super Six Motel on Bellefontaine until they could get on their feet. Sergeant Burgoon did interview Ellen’s ex-husband, but Paul Boehm would never become a crucial witness for the prosecution.

Paul had an assortment of problems of his own, including his third family with Teri. When Amylynn Michelle was born to them, Paul was a father for the eighth time. He and Teri had a boy named Dennis Duane, and Teri herself had a daughter by a previous marriage, though the girl lived with Teri’s mother.

In the summer of 1992, as Ellen passed time in the city Workhouse awaiting trial, Paul made an attempt to regain custody of his daughter, Stacy, who was a ward of the state living temporarily with her grandmother, Catherine.

Only five days after Ellen was arrested, Juvenile Court had held a custody hearing on the matter, and decided that she would remain in her grandmother’s custody. The hearing was a wrenching experience for him, because all his daughter said to him that day was: “Daddy, why were you on drugs?” It was obvious to him that forces on Ellen’s side were brainwashing her.

The court recognized his interest in gaining custody, but was also cognizant of the negatives on his side, including the fact that he owed approximately $18,000 in child support. The custody matter was postponed for another year, when it would come up for review.

In the meantime, because Mrs. Booker needed knee surgery and was sometimes confined to a wheelchair and a walker, Stacy would be placed in a foster home. Paul would be permitted to see his daughter twice a month under the supervision of a caseworker. Each visit would last an hour.

The first visits were held in the North Seventh Street offices of the Department of Social Services, where Stacy’s caseworker could be on the sidelines. In time, Paul and Stacy would meet at the Northwest Mall, along with Teri and their two children. There, with a caseworker waiting by the front door, Paul could walk around with his daughter, window-shopping, talking about things. Often he would buy her an ice cream. They would spend up to an hour and a half together, and then Stacy would say her good-bye and head back to her foster parents.

In the first few months of foster care, Stacy fared pretty well considering the circumstances. She had some learning difficulties in school. As a fifth grader, she could only spell on a second-grade level. But then she began to make progress again.

As Christmas 1993 approached, she was living with four other foster girls under the same roof. It was as if she had somehow suddenly acquired sisters. There were rules that none of the girls liked, but they all ganged together, and the solidarity had a positive influence on her.

Though she hadn’t even reached junior high school, Stacy’s childhood was gone—her baby brothers were dead, her mother faced life in prison or the death penalty, and her father was an occasional visitor. Her aged grandmother was more infirm with each passing day. Fate had dealt her a cruel hand indeed.