To The Herald-Whig:
We all experience those rare moments in life when we are moved to tears, be they happy or mournful. Not expecting such a reaction attending a murder trial caught both my wife and me way off guard while observing nearly every day of the Curtis Lovelace trial. Both semiretired, we had connections with Quincy and the case through a co-worker, and a family friend, and a hometown connection with prosecutor Ed Parkinson. Having never attended any trial, witnessing a murder trial packed with explosive emotions on both sides was eerie "entertainment," and we felt the morbid curiosity some find when watching a 200-mph pileup at Daytona.
Awkward is the word we chose while watching the Lovelace and Didriksen families being held in the balance by such a life-altering decision the jury had to make. Back and forth like a playground swing set our emotions rocked. At one of many uncomfortable firecracker exchanges between the battling attorneys, we simply could not imagine being in the accused chair, or any family member on either side of the aisle.
In the end, we agreed with the jury that the defense presented enough "reasonable doubt," and that Lovelace should be set free. We also decided if we are ever in a pickle, that Jon Loevy would be our first call. As for facing the pit bull-like determination of Parkinson? No thank you.
But getting back to those tears -- they were shed the instant that Lovelace literally bear-hugged his wife, Christine, and his three sons in a football huddle immediately before his deciding day in court began Friday. A tighter huddle has never been performed. We could not hear the prayers being recited, but everyone in that courtroom could feel them. Quietly before our God, we too said a prayer for them, and for Cory Lovelace and her family. In that electrically charged courtroom Friday, we were reminded with absolute certainty that life moves on, one persistent tick of the clock after another. Our final prayer was for all involved to enjoy all the ticks of the clock they have left in this short life here on Earth.
Jim and Donna Scott