© Longview News-Journal
Reprinted by permission

08-18-02

Different loss, same pain

Two families feel the consequences of one terrible act

By ROBIN GALIANO, Staff writer

When Ron Shamburger killed fellow Texas A&M University student Lori Baker in the wee hours of Sept. 30, 1994, he didn't quite grasp how far-reaching the consequences would be from that one awful act. Not only did Lori lose her life and Ron end up sentenced to death, but the lives of their parents, families and friends also were changed forever.

Just weeks away from Ron's scheduled execution on Sept. 18 in Huntsville, both sets of parents are dealing with the loss of a child.

Lori's parents already have buried their daughter. The Shamburgers soon will bury their son.

For Dacell and Lynell Shamburger of Longview, Macedonia Baptist Church has been a constant support and comfort as they have dealt with their own shame, embarrassment, questions and fears. They say they still love their son and continue to place their trust in a God who is bigger than the most wrenching of human circumstances.

They have visited Ron for eight years behind prison bars, first in Brazos County Jail and then on death row in Huntsville and Livingston. Now, a little more than a month away from their son's scheduled execution date, the Shamburgers reflect on their own emotions and talk about how they are coping with the loss of their son.

Faye and Derrel Baker, who live in the Dallas area, have endured a different kind of agony, saying Lori was a "wonderful Christian girl" who could have gone on to accomplish whatever she chose to do.

They say their faith, and the support of their family and church, Prestonwood Baptist in Plano, has provided some measure of comfort.

But not even the execution of Ron Shamburger will bring closure, they say. Losing a child is a life-changing experience that will never ease.

Both of the Bakers have suffered medical problems which they attribute to the stress of losing Lori. And the family, including Lori's older brother, Mark, has undergone counseling to cope with their grief.

"We're ready," says Faye of Ron's upcoming execution, which Derrel will witness.

Facing the worst

Through a telephone call at 7:10 a.m. Sept. 30, 1994, the Shamburgers learned the unthinkable: that their eldest son, Ron, a senior at Texas A&M University who was active in Christian youth ministries his whole life, had been arrested for the slaying of a fellow student.

The Shamburgers also received a near-hysterical call from their 20-year-old daughter, an A&M student who was the same age as Lori Baker.

The Shamburgers' youngest son then was a 10th-grader.

"Our lives changed totally at that point — for all of us," Lynell said in an earlier interview. "I told my son we needed to pray and to give it to the Lord. I prayed that the Lord would be glorified in this, and he immediately gave me a peace. I knew he was in control."

The police wouldn't give out much information over the phone, but the Shamburgers expected the worst.

"I felt just a great loss — really indescribable. The fear, the dread of the unknown, not knowing what was going on. There was very little communication between us. It was long and quiet," Dacell said of their four-hour ride to College Station.

The Shamburgers soon would learn that their son had broken into Baker's home, found her at home in what he said was a burglary and shot her to death when he heard Baker's roommate, Victoria Kohler, opening the garage door.

Court testimony later would show that Ron had held Lori down and bound her hands with duct tape, before shooting her with the muzzle of a gun pressed against her forehead.

He then abducted Kohler and put her in the trunk of her car. He drove several blocks away and left her unharmed. Returning to the duplex, Ron attempted to remove the bullet from Lori's forehead with a knife, then tried to cover his tracks by setting her room on fire.

The house exploded, and Ron fled. But he realized he'd left his car keys in the burning house. He wandered into nearby woods and even put his gun to his own head, but could not pull the trigger. He eventually called a youth minister and turned himself in to the police.

At the county jail, Ron kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at his parents. His hair and eyebrows had been singed in the explosion, and he still was in shock. "I guess we all were," Dacell said.

"We didn't know what steps to take. We had never been through anything like this," Lynell recalled.

During the yearlong investigation and capital murder trial in Brazos County, the Shamburgers were surrounded by friends from church each time they drove to the courtroom. Ron, who admitted his guilt from the beginning, was given the death penalty for capital murder.

Devastation and loss

Derrel and Faye Baker were in England at the time their daughter was killed. Derrel was a corporate executive with an oil company at the time, working a three-year stint overseas.

Faye Baker says she was in shock when her son, Mark, also an A&M student at the time, called to say Lori was dead. Mark and Lori had lived next door to each other in duplexes their parents had bought them to use during college.

"Mark kept saying, ‘Mom, do you understand what I'm telling you?’ I was stunned. I just slowly said, ‘OK. Are you OK?’ ” Faye said her husband, Derrel, had a different reaction. When Faye called him during a business meeting, he let out a bloodcurdling scream, she said.

"The phone just went dead. I thought he had a heart attack. I thought I lost my daughter and my husband," Faye says.

"It was totally devastating. I almost fainted and made a loud cry, hoping that what I was hearing was not true. Total disbelief. Absolutely numb," Derrel says.

"The only way I could really cope was to not think about it. A lot of prayer helped, too. The company was real sympathetic."

The Bakers packed up immediately and returned to the United States.

Mark joined them at a hotel in Dallas, but soon returned to A&M. "It was just so painful to be with you and not have Lori there," he told his mom.

Lori's duplex had suffered extensive damage from the fire. The Bakers ended up selling both houses, and Mark moved five miles away to another rental house in College Station.

The Bakers bought a home in the Dallas area and have lived there since. "I don't even remember selecting this house," Faye says.

Both of the Bakers have had serious medical illnesses in the last eight years that Faye attributes to the stress of coping with the loss of their only daughter.

For Faye, it's been breast cancer and diverticulitis. "I was extremely healthy before this," she says.

Derrel spent five months in a hospital with pancreatitis and nearly died.

"I had no doubt it was due to what we had to go through with our precious, precious daughter," she said.

The Baker family has gone through counseling to cope with the loss of Lori and has found comfort at Prestonwood Baptist Church in Plano. But their marriage has not been shipwrecked like some who go through a family crisis, Faye says.

"Derrel and I have been blessed with a very happy marriage. I can see how couples could end up divorced, but we had a strong marriage to begin with. We're religious, too. You lean on your faith."

Shattered promises

Aug. 9, 2002, would have been Lori's 28th birthday. In a telephone interview that day, Derrel Baker reflects on the special bond he shared with his daughter.

"Lori and I were extremely close. She was always daddy's girl. It's such a waste," he says.

Faye Baker describes her daughter as an "exceedingly pretty girl, with beautiful porcelain skin, big blue eyes, long blonde hair and a slim, near-perfect figure."

A high school cheerleader, Lori was active in the Fellowship of Christian Athletes at Kingwood High School and excelled in tennis, soccer, golf and track. The mother of a cheerleading squad member has spent the last eight years raising funds for the Lori Baker Scholarship.

At the time of her death, Lori and her brother, Mark, were the reigning intramural mixed doubles tennis champions at Texas A&M.

Lori was not only athletic, but also excelled in academics. She participated in gifted and talented programs in school and showed aptitude in art and music. Lori had her piano with her in College Station and played almost daily, Faye says.

"Lori would have been successful in anything she did. She probably would have married (her boyfriend) Chris, an engineer who lives in Michigan. I'm pretty sure he will come for the execution."

Asking why

Ron and Lori had promising college careers. Ron was a fifth-year bio-med major, who was planning to enter the ministry when he graduated.

The former Eagle Scout had participated in Bible studies and served as a Baptist missionary one summer while in college.

Lori was an accounting major and had selected A&M as part of her family's heritage. She and her brother were fourth generation Aggies.

Her grandfather had been commandant of the A&M Corps.

Lori met Ron while waiting in line at the university for parking accommodations. Faye Baker wishes her daughter had gotten into line just five minutes sooner or later.

"He impressed her by telling her he was a strong Christian and into Bible studies. He asked her to one," Faye said.

Although Ron and Lori dated briefly, Lori's roommate told Faye it was not a mutual attraction.

"He called her all the time, to where Lori was avoiding answering the phone," Faye says. "He begged and begged her to go out with him on his birthday. After that, she totally avoided his calls. She had met a wonderful boy her junior year and told Ron she was exclusive. It was a week later she was murdered."

Ron has said it was a botched burglary, that he had killed Lori on impulse knowing she could identify him.

Lori's parents say it was intentional, that Ron was acting on feelings of rejection by their daughter.

Brazos County District Attorney Bill Turner, who prosecuted the case, believes Ron's actions that night showed he was looking for a confrontation.

"He held her down, bound her hands with duct tape, heard Kohler coming in and shot Lori. There's no question in my mind that there was a gun to her forehead," Turner said.

Lori's father has stronger words.

"I think he was an emerging psychopath. He killed Lori for the pure pleasure of it. There was absolutely no panic. At the time, he showed absolutely no remorse. I think he's very deserving of it," Derrel says of Ron's death sentence.

"He tries to paint a picture that it was a burglary that got out of control. He went there specifically to kill her. He brought duct tape, a gun, matches and gasoline. He set out to do what he wanted to do," Faye adds. "He put the noose around his neck by saying he was going there to do a burglary. If it was just a murder, he wouldn't get the death penalty."

Even Ron's parents agree their son's actions appear to indicate it was more than a burglary.

"I have always thought Ron knew what he was doing, that he was reacting from her rejection," Lynell says. "I feel Ron knew some of the laws, and that capital murder got a stiffer judgment than a crime of passion. Ron tried to kill himself and could not do it, so he turned himself in hope the state would do it for him."

Dacell agrees.

"There is more to it than what Ron confessed to. Even though I don't know for sure, his actions sure look premeditated. Neither Ron nor his lawyers have ever told me this."

Ron told his dad not too long ago that Lori reminded him of his high school girlfriend, Meredith, who also had broken up with him.

"I do know now, that Ron was depressed about school, about not being asked to help with the youth group and not having a girlfriend. If we had only known these things, we could have gotten Ron some help. If nothing else, he could have laid out of school for a while. He never discussed these things with me," Dacell says.

The wait

After eight years behind bars, Ron says he is ready to go. It's the waiting that's the hardest part.

"He's told me he didn't want to prolong his life by making these appeals anyway," Dacell says.

Lynell feels concern and relief as she anticipates her son's execution. She speaks in measured words.

"Where he's gonna be, I can't wait to get there, too. Concerned in the sense I'm concerned about Dacell's parents’ health, our daughter's pregnancy, how our (youngest) son is going to take it. The Lord will be in control of my emotions as he has been through this whole thing," she says.

"There'll be more of an empty spot. It's hard to see your child in a situation of pain. That part will not be there anymore. He'll be in the best place he can be. I'll be happy in that aspect."

Dacell says it's pretty hard to describe his feelings.

"I have moments now where I'm depressed. I don't feel like doing anything. I've had several of these this week," he says, tearing up and wiping his eyes.

"It's awful hard to sing some of the songs at church. They touch me in a way they never did before. And a lot of the Bible lessons that deal with murder and revolve around David. He got into a lot of trouble but always kept his eyes on God and repented. It just hits home in a different way.

Dacell has watched episodes on the Discovery and History television channels about execution by lethal injection. "They have shown executions. I've been put to sleep several times. I know what it's like. There's no pain," he says.

“Once the emotion of the execution has passed and the wounds have time to heal, I'm sure I'll be relieved. I won't have to dread that anymore. I'm still hoping all of this — even the execution — will still be used to win souls. Ron has enough material for two more tracts. I'd like him to put it together."

Wasted lives

Dacell has continued his ministry of visiting prison inmates, something he began to do even before Ron was convicted.

But his message has more of an effect now when he tells inmates his own son is on death row. More than 8,000 copies of a gospel tract Ron wrote from prison have been printed and distributed.

Lynell has given her testimony of God's strength in their circumstances to women's groups. Focus on the Family radio ministry has requested an audiotape of their story, but the Shamburgers have not pursued that. They continue to be active in their church, and still sing in the choir. "I'm grateful that I have never been mistreated by people because of this. I've always been treated with dignity," Dacell says.

Still, a day doesn't go by that Dacell and Lynell don't think about what happened.

"Two perfectly good human lives were wasted. Wasted in the way that mankind values human life," Dacell says. "You can always say, ‘What if?’ What would Ron be doing now? Maybe a youth minister at a church, or doing research in a laboratory. I don't know anything about Lori and her aspirations. Both of them could have children by now. You can't put a value on human life. In God's eyes, every one of them is precious."

Neither of the Shamburgers blames God for what happened. Nor have they turned their back on their faith.

"Just because my son's made a mistake, or I've made mistakes, doesn't mean God doesn't love me. I can't hold God responsible for what I choose to do," Dacell says. "Many times I wish I could turn the clock back and prevent all this from happening, but it's not realistic. We're faced with choices every day. Sometimes they're major choices."

Shared sympathy

Although they have never communicated back and forth, the Shamburgers and the Bakers each express sympathy for one another.

"I feel sorry for them. They seem like good Christian people from what I heard at the trial. They just got dealt a person with psychopathic problems," Derrel says.

The Shamburgers say they can understand the roiling emotions the Bakers must feel.

"I understand about them being bitter at Ron," Dacell says. "I, too, had a 20-year-old daughter at A&M at the same time as Lori. I can put myself in the Bakers' shoes, and I don't blame them. But I hope and pray their bitterness toward our family will subside."

The Bakers say Ron's execution will end the punishment chapter of the story, but it won't bring closure to what happened to their daughter. "Closure? Oh, no. I hate that word. I think we all think that once you've had a child, there's no closure," Faye says.

"My feelings toward him are that I really don't have any feelings for him. I don't think about him. We're ready. He has lived for eight years and our daughter has been in her grave for eight years," Faye says. "Lori was so young and had her whole life ahead of her. Her death was such a tremendous waste. She had so much to offer the world."

Derrel says he doesn't think about Ron at all, only what his daughter went through that night. He is haunted by one pathologist's testimony that some blisters on Lori might have occurred before she died.

"I hardly ever think of the murderer. I have kind of an eerie calm about it. I'm not consumed with him. But I still think about the details," he says.

‘Lasting memories’

And so, on Sept. 18, four parents will converge in Huntsville for an execution. Only one will witness it.

Executions in Texas are normally carried out at 6 p.m. on the scheduled date. It only takes a few minutes for the drugs to sedate the condemned killer, collapse his lungs and stop his heart.

On the Bakers' side, Lori's father, brother, cousin and college boyfriend will witness the lethal injection. Faye says she is not interested in seeing it.

The Shamburgers have been advised not to watch their son's execution. A minister and one of Ron's lawyers will be witnesses for them.

"Lasting memories," Dacell explains, his eyes filling again. He pauses, pressing his thumbs hard now into the corners of his eyes, then adds, "It's just better to have memories of the last visit instead of the death."

Instead, the Shamburgers will spend eight hours with Ron the day before the execution, and four hours the morning of Sept. 18, before Ron is transported from death row in Livingston to Huntsville.

As they prepare to say goodbye to their oldest child, the Shamburgers say their son has told them he is ready to pay the consequences and prefers the death penalty to being locked up for the rest of his life. "To him, this is sort of a relief. He's going to go from a prison to a palace. He's at peace," Lynell says.

And though she finds it hard to imagine what will happen the day her son is put to death, Lynell says she will rely on a strength bigger than her own to get through it.

"The Lord's grace is enough for me. In my weakness, his power is made complete. When it seems my strength is gone, he's the rock I rest upon.

He holds tomorrow safely in his hand, so I don't have to worry about tomorrow. I rest inside his perfect master plan. That is why I keep saying God is in control."