Ann Tracy, Ph.D., Executive Director of the International Coalition for Drug Awareness, confirmed that this woman was taking Prozac at the time of the murder-suicide.
Paragraph 49 reads: " Espinoza was suffering from depression and recently had trouble sleeping; she was taking medications for depression and meeting regularly with a therapist, added Eckman."The Herald of Randolph
September 10, 1998
By Sandy Cooch
Community Grapples with Deaths
A STRUGGLE TO UNDERSTAND
The private grief and confusion of family and friends ripple outward as area residents struggle this week to understand the tragic deaths of a Randolph woman and her two children last Sunday.
Police say that sometime between 7 p.m. and midnight on Sept. 7, Vera Espinoza, 40, shot and killed both her children, Ross, 8, and Rene, 4, in their Randolph Circle home.
She then turned the gun, a .22-caliber revolver, on herself.
The three bodies, lying side-by-side in an upstairs bedroom, were discovered three days later by a neighbor and a close friend, Bonnie Goodchild.
Goodchild, who usually baby-sat Ross on Wednesdays, said she unlocked and entered the apartment earlier that day, looking for clues of the family's whereabouts. After listening to phone messages--mostly from friends and the school--she returned to her nearby home.
Later, she and two of Espinoza's nursing school friends re-entered the home
That time, Goodchild noticed a cleared table, with only a pile of note paper, neatly stacked, and a vase of dried flowers.
"Usually, with Vera, everything was everywhere" said Goodchild this week, and the tidy table drew her.
The top paper, recalled Goodchild, began,"To my family--do not come to Vermont." "I picked up the stack and looked at the other papers--there were various letters to people--and then I called the police."
Randolph Patrolman Tom Simpson, who had earlier received a request from a social services agency to check on the family, was already en route to Randolph Circle when Goodchild's anxious call came in.
"They [the dispatcher] said, "Whatever you do, don't go upstairs" remembers Goodchild
After she hung up, however, Goodchild and Espinoza's nursing school friend, Melissa McPhetres, did run upstairs.
When Simpson pulled up to 15 Randolph Circle a few minutes later, reported Police Chief Phillip Mollitor this week, Goodchild was running out of the front door, screaming.
Goodchild said this week that a few days before Espinoza died, she had dressed up and asked McPhetres if she liked the outfit.
When she shot herself and her children last Sunday, Espinoza "was wearing that outfit down to the shoes," said Goodchild.
The children were lying on either side of her, said Mollitor this week.
"There were no signs of struggle."
Investigators have surmised that the single mother shot her children after they fell asleep. Final autopsy reports will determine whether the children were first drugged, said Mollitor.
The pages of notes and letter that Espinoza had left neatly stacked on the kitchen table--a letter to her family explaining her final actions, one detailing her own funeral service, numerous bequests of all her possessions, and more--made it quickly apparent that the three deaths were planned.
Few Signs
Friend and family say, however, that there were few signs of Espinoza's intentions.
"You didn't see a thing--nothing," said Donna Des Rosiers this week.
Espinoza freely talked with her friends about her problems, said Holly Eckman, but "I saw no apparent change--just the usual ups and downs."
But in retrospect, Eckman said, there were signs: a "story" about someone who killed her children: a mention that she was "a crack shot and might start practicing again"; asking a friend if she would consider taking her children if she, Espinoza, were to die.
"She told me she was writing letters" Eckman added.
"All these little clues I did not pick up on"
Since last Wednesday's night of horror and disbelief on Randolph Circle, Espinoza's family, her many friends, and the reeling community have struggled to fit together pieces that don't seem to match.
How to reconcile reports of an exuberant, warm-hearted woman who was "a wonderful mother" with the grim facts of a police report?
The contrast has seemed all the more shocking because, as a friend said this week, "Vera was out there"
A school volunteer, a full-time nursing student, "a mother to the whole neighborhood," a woman with a rich web of friends, Vera Espinoza was far from an isolated unknown.
"She was a wonderful lady," said Stephen Metcalf, principal of the Randolph elementary schools on Monday, "Everything we knew about her was very positive."
"We knew her life had a lot of challenges in it," he continued, "but we had no idea, no reason to be fearful for her or the kids."
Espinoza's friends and family members offered this week some recollections of the Hispanic woman, and insights into her final actions.
"Vera was a totally social person" recalled her youngest sister, Terry Gonzalez, of Corpus Chrisit, Texas. "She was always on the go."
In school and at the family's church, "she was in so many clubs and organizations we couldn't keep up with her."
Joseph Espinoza, also of Texas, this week remembered his sister, the middle of seven children, as "a determined go-getter."
When she enrolled in her school's fledgling ROTC program, said Espinoza, "it was not the most highly thought of group on campus. But she didn't care--she knew it was what she wanted."
In 1978, Vera enlisted in the U.S. Air Force and became the only one in her family ever to move away from Corpus Christi.
"She wanted to see the world," her brother said.
When Espinoza left the Air Force, after 10 years, she had achieved the rank of sergeant. She and Randolph native Michael Blanchard were married during those years, and after living for a time in Massachusetts, they moved to Randolph.
The couple had two children, Ross, born in 1989 and Rene, born in 1993.
The Rev. Jean S. Jersey, rector of Christ Episcopal Church of Bethel and director of the Life Skills program for woman, this week recalled meeting Espinoza soon after she moved here.
Sought Out Help
Espinoza, searching with son Ross for an early education program held in Bethal, had knocked on the parish house door. The two women visited for a short time, and Jersey recommended the Life Skills program.
"The next Wednesday she showed up," said Jersey.
Espinoza, "a wonderful contributor" attended regularly, up until the time she enrolled in the nursing program at Norwich University.
Rev. Jersey said she also worked alone with Espinoza when her marriage ended a few years ago and she was awarded custody of her children. She said she found her a person who had "a faith in God that was strong and secure."
"I felt good about Vera and the course her life was taking--it seemed she had a real possibility of turning around."
Last week's death, Jersey added, "point out to me that the problems that woman face are so overwhelming--so many walk close to the edge."
Jersey speculated this week that too many problems, on too many fronts, coinciding with a period of self-doubt pushed Espinoza over the edge.
Friend Holly Eckman tallied some of those problems this week.
They included the stresses of juggling single parenting and full-time studies, and constant money and car problems.
Nursing school was tough, reported Eckman, and raising Ross, who had some behavioral problems, was "challenging."
"She felt trapped," said Eckman.
Espinoza was suffering from depression and recently had trouble sleeping; she was taking medications for depression and meeting regularly with a therapist, added Eckman.
The usually vibrant Espinoza, noted friend Donna Des Rosier, started to complain of being tired.
Underlying everything, feels Eckman, were problems in relationships with men.
"She needed, for her own pain, for someone to put his arms around her and say, "Don't worry, you're going to be safe."
Despite her worries, Espinoza always exuded warmth and caring. She may have been better, however, at giving than receiving, Eckman said.
Espinoza's brother and sister said this week that the family frequently urged Espinoza to return to Texas.
"She had family here to support her," said Joseph Espinoza, "but she was determined to make it there, and get her nursing degree."
"We knew of her trials and tribulations, but she was always upbeat when she talked to us."
The children's paternal grandmother, Mary Dumas, lived in Randolph. Dumas, according to Randolph Police Chief Philip Mollitor, "would have taken the children."
Vera Espinoza's Randolph friends said this week that they are giving up the search to fully understand what their friend did.
A final answer, they suggest, will never be found in details and facts, but in love.
"I am confused and I am angry," said Bonnie Goodchild, "but I loved her and I will always love her; her kids were like my kids."
On Monday in Texas, the Espinozas buried their daughter and sister, and on Tuesday the family gathered again to read the letter and the last will and testament Espinoza penned before she died.
"Yes, there is some mystery," said her sister Terry afterward, "but for the most part [the letter] is helping us to understand a little more."
"Still, I wish we could have known better and helped change things," she added.
Espinoza wrote that life was a constant struggle and she couldn't go on any more, said Terry Gonzalez.
"She mentions too that she couldn't let the kids suffer anymore; she couldn't leave them behind--abandon them that way."
The family, added Gonzalez, has begun the difficult task of trying to do what "Vera asked us to do, which is to accept, forgive, and go on."