By Martha Emonts
WOODSTOCK, ON May 23, 2012 For the past few weeks I have written over 12,000 words on the abduction and murder of Tori Stafford. I have tried to give you the one perspective that has been missing from most reports on the subject. While most articles have focused on what has happened to the victim, her family or the apprehended killers, I have tried to show you what Tori’s story has done to an average parent within the community and the community itself. Hopefully I have provided you with some insight into my hometown and how we felt about this tragedy. All that is left to tell you is about my experience in writing this and maybe to answer a few questions that have crossed your minds while reading the various sections.
I didn’t tell many people I was publicly writing about the murder. I kept it quiet for a number of reasons. Perhaps the most prominent was that that the case was very emotional for my hometown. There was a great deal of debate over almost every aspect of the case, the vast majority of it rife with some form of controversy. You have to understand in a small town like Woodstock, old fashioned values and justice are still brimming near the surface. You’ll find more “eye for an eye” than “turning the other cheek”.
The trial renewed discussion about capital punishment, with even my own family disagreeing over the “what should be“ fate of Tori’s killers. Those discussions were not pleasant and involved a lot of heated words and flustered conversations. Some of my family knew I was writing these segments and followed along religiously- maybe not always agreeing, but okay with what I wrote because I kept things fair. A couple would call to tell me I was wrong and I shouldn’t have said something a certain way. And I only told the more tolerant ones. Could you imagine telling the others? Yeah,…not likely.
Now you might be thinking; wouldn’t I be worried they might stumble across my article and see what I wrote? You’re right, I was worried about that. But steps were taken to avoid that issue all together. No I didn’t email viruses to their computers. I did something much more devious- I adopted a pen name. Elizabeth Maloney does not exist anywhere but in my mind. I`ll tell you a bit more about that in a minute.
For now, let`s go back to my clandestine existence of writing under a pen name about a topic that was highly controversial in my world. Articles were written late at night after my daughter was in bed, because with having a full time job, it was the only time I could put fingers to keyboard. Reviewing the heinous details of Tori`s tragic murder every night before bed, it’s a wonder I didn’t have nightmares. The articles took their toll on me, leaving me raw with emotion some nights.
One such night, I made the mistake of watching part of the movie `The Lovely Bones`. For those of you who have not seen the movie, its about a young girl who is murdered by a man in her neighbourhood and the story is about her transition from earth to heaven, watching her family and her murder from the place in between. There were so many similarities between the movie and Tori that I ended up in tears. It was probably the rawest and most emotional moment I felt while doing this series, but it was also the best. By the time I went to bed that night I felt I was meant to see that movie when I did. The little girl in The Lovely Bones resolves what she needs to and happily moves on to heaven feeling at peace with herself and filled with love for her family. That night, as the tears streamed onto my pillow, I imagined the same for Tori. I felt relief for that little girl. Knowing that she was probably looking down at us the same way and knowing she was finding the peace we were so badly struggling to find here on earth.
And on many nights my daughter went to bed puzzled at why her mother had insisted on hugging her several times before she went to sleep. Tori has reminded me that even though my daughter drives me absolutely crazy most of the time now, our time together is very precious. Neither my daughter nor I have been given a guarantee for tomorrow. The last thing I want her to hear from me at bed time is how much I love her and how she is the best thing I have ever done with my life. Tori has given me the greatest gift- the gift of appreciation for my child. In a world where we often put people off or let angry words get in the way, I have been given a powerful reminder of how we have to cherish every moment we can, because that moment just might be our last.
Martha Emonts, mother of an 11 year old daughter who wrote of the trial that convicted the murderer of Tori Stafford.
So today I put the last couple of things to rest. Today I let go of little Tori, hoping I did her some justice in my telling of the events. The little girl I have come to affiliate with my own child. I feel like Tori has become part of my life and having to let her go is proving more difficult than I had once thought. But let her go I must, because life must go on.
And lastly, today, I also put my pen name to rest. Over the weeks I have given you a glimpse into my thoughts and feelings, all while keeping you in the dark about my true identity. It was a necessity at the time but with the case resolved, the murderers firmly behind bars and everyone beginning to move on with their lives, it is time I fess up and do the same. These 12 segments you have loyally read for the past few weeks under the name of Elizabeth Maloney, actually belonged to me, Martha Emonts; thirty-six year old mother of one beautiful 11 year old daughter and a proud resident of the City of Woodstock.
Editors note: Martha Emonts works in Burlington and sent us a note about what she felt was an error on our part in a piece we had written – she was right. We corrected the mistake and in the process learned of her feelings about the trail then taking place in London, Ontario of the man accused of murdering 8 year old Tori Stafford in Woodstock, Emonts home town. While not a Burlington story, Emonts works in Burlington/Hamilton in the finance industry and we felt her raw emotions were worth publishing. Children being taken off the street and never again seen by their parents is, as Emonts’ put it: can happen anytime, anywhere, and the most gut-wrenching of all; to anyone.
