That September 13 was the first day of a hellish life for
Mitzi’s mother, Paula Kurland, her fifteen-year old daughter, Kyrra,
her thirteen-year old son, Joey, Mitzi’s father, her grandparents, and
friends. Nothing would ever be the same. Mitzi was Paula’s first
child, the one with the open, guileless face, the pixie smile, the
round sparkling eyes, the long, brunette hair curling softly over her
shoulders. She was brutally murdered on her twenty-first birthday
by Jonathan, an early-release parolee who had been out of prison
for four months. He was a drug addict, serial rapist of four or five
women—now a double murderer. That afternoon Paula watched
the scene on television as Mitzi’s body was removed from her
house.