The little red light on my answering machine was blinking nervously when I returned home on Tuesday, November, 11, 2014.  Robo-callers don’t leave messages, so I was curious and pressed the “Play” button.

“Estelle, this is Jeannie.” I recognized my cousin’s voice.  “I don’t know if I told you that I volunteer at my local library in Middletown, NJ two days a week, but I was there today when a new release came in.  The first few chapters are about your father and your picture is in it.  I was wondering if the author ever got your permission to use it.  Give me a call.”

Of course I immediately did just that.  Jeannie filled me in on the details. One of her tasks at the library is to check in the new books, stamp them and prepare them to be placed on the shelves for eager readers.  That day a new book about crimes committed at the Jersey Shore * came in on her shift.  She recognized the name of the criminal on the front cover and quickly perused the pages.  There on page 11 of chapter l she recognized a photograph of me taken with my parents when I was five years old and read the accompanying text.

My father had been the first victim of a troubled youth who after serving time for his crime, was released and went on to commit many more atrocities.  He was apprehended, convicted and finally sentenced to death.  These facts were not new to me, but I had never seen them in print before.  Jeannie gave me the name of the book and the author.  I was curious but had no desire to “buy” the book.  I went to our local library, but since it was such a new release, they didn’t yet have it.  I then went to our local Barnes and Noble; they didn’t have it yet either, but offered to order it for me.  No thank you.  I just wanted to see it, not own it.

Then the idea came to me to order it on my Nook (Barnes and Noble’s version of a Kindle)  That way I could read the parts I wanted and not have the actual book sitting out in plain view.  That worked.  I downloaded it and was able to read it that night.

The first Chapter, titled Bayonne, December 18^th, 1958, told of my Father’s last day on earth in very accurate detail.  It described him as “a successful and well-respected man” and quoted from a 1945 edition of History of New Jersey which further enumerated and praised his leadership activities.  I was amazed.  Again, this information was certainly not new to me, but where did the author of the book get it?

I looked him up on the internet, found his contact information and sent him an email message telling him I was the “little girl in the picture on page 11 of his new book” and asking if I could speak with him.  He responded immediately and gave me his phone number.

He told me that he was a retired New Jersey State Trooper who was now writing true crime stories and had chosen this murderer on death row because it seemed like an interesting story.  In researching the early life of the killer, the author said he had come across so much information about my Father that he felt he had to use it in his book to “humanize the victim.”

At Mass the following Sunday, the Gospel was about the master who divided his fortune among three servants (Matthew 25:14-30).  Two of the servants invested what they had been given, but the third buried his portion to keep it safe from loss or harm.  When the master returned, the two servants who had invested the funds entrusted to them gave them back to the master with interest; the third servant told the Master that he had buried his treasure to keep it “safe.”  The Master admonished the servant as being “wicked and lazy.”

Father Al in his homily elaborated on the theme.  He said that treasure can be any gift we are given, not only money; and that it is up to us to use and develop what we have been given and not hide it away.

I thought of all the boxes of photo albums and newspaper articles that we had moved from house to house over the years and were now “buried” in our basement.  I had gone through Dad’s papers several years ago, copied articles about his involvement in public affairs and put them in a binder for each of my siblings; but there is much more to dad’s story than what was reported in the papers.  ”I should write a book,” I thought—maybe in 2011, which would have been his 100^th Birthday–but you know how it is: Life got in the way of my good intentions.

“Digging up” the boxes I had buried in my basement, I found albums of photos, notes and newspaper clippings detailing my father’s wonderful life.  There were also the original newspapers with the glaring headlines from the days after the horrible incident that ended it.  My Dad, Stephen F. Sladowski, deserves to be remembered for the way he lived rather than for the way he died, to have a book with his name on the cover that tells of a faith-filled, loving and joyful life cut short in its prime.

I came across a quote recently that said, “A bullet destroys itself as well as its victim, but the printed word lasts forever and immortalizes its subject,” or something like that.   My commitment is to Share the Story, Fulfill the Promise and Spread the Love.

*The name of the book is “The Jersey Shore Thrill Killer” by John E. O’Rourke History Press, 2014