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Learn more on Tech Stuff on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This is Lee Habib and this is Our American Stories. And we tell stories about everything here on this show, from the arts to sports and from business to history and everything in between, including your story.
Send them to OurAmericanStories.com. They're some of our favorites. And up next, we bring you a story from Jean Bishop. It's the story of a loving family shattered by gruesome violence.
Here's Jean Bishop. I grew up in Oklahoma City with a mom and a dad and two sisters. I'm the middle child of three.
I have an older sister, Jennifer, and a younger sister, Nancy, who's five years younger than me. And we had this kind of idyllic childhood, you know, nice neighborhood, great friends, great school. And so when we all grew up and ended up moving back to Chicago, where I was born, where my sisters and I were born, we all kind of stayed together as a close family. Nancy got married to the love of her life, Richard, at the age of 23. And they started right away trying to have kids. They wanted to have a big, happy family. Even though Nancy was the youngest of us three sisters, she was the first of us to get pregnant.
She was the first who was going to be a mom. And when she announced the news of this to me and my older sister, my mom and dad, we were all just over the moon with joy and happiness. We went out to dinner to celebrate the great news. We went to this Italian restaurant on Clark Street in Chicago, and I brought a little baby gift, a little baby sweater from a trip I'd just been on.
And we ordered pasta, and we were laughing. And my parents were so thrilled. This would have been their first grandchild.
This would have been my first little niece or nephew. It was a Saturday night, the night before Palm Sunday. We all had goodbye in the parking lot that night. My mom and dad went back to their big house in the suburbs. I went back to my apartment in Chicago, and Nancy and Richard went back to this townhouse they were living in, in Winnetka, Illinois. And Winnetka is the place I live now.
It's one of the safest, most affluent communities in the country. When they walked through the door of their townhouse, the killer was waiting for them. He had used a glass cutter to break in the glass sliding door in the back, because he knew that breaking the glass would have alerted the neighbors, and they would have called the police. He had a.357 Magnum revolver.
He pointed it at them. He handcuffed my brother-in-law, Richard. And Richard was this gentle giant.
He was this 6'3", 230-pound former athlete. But he was completely disabled when he was handcuffed. He forced them down into the basement. They begged for their lives. Nancy and Richard both told him that she was pregnant, asked him not to hurt her. First, he put the gun to Richard's head, and he killed him execution-style with one gunshot. And I can't describe how awful that must have been for Nancy, how surreal it must have been to see this man she loved and wanted to have a family with and grow old with, just assassinated in that moment. So then the gun was turned on her.
She covered up her own head with her hands just because of what she'd just seen and kind of huddled in a corner. The killer fired twice since dead into her pregnant side and abdomen. And then he left her there to die.
And when we got the coroner's report later, we saw that she lived for about 10 minutes after that. And the blood marks on the basement and the marks on her body showed what she did. She tried to call for help by banging on this metal shelf with a tool that was in the basement.
She was too weak to stand. And so she was trying to make a noise that someone would hear. And I just imagine that at some point she must have known that no help was coming and that she was dying and that the darkness was kind of closing in around her and her baby was dying inside her. So she dragged herself by her elbows over to where Richard's body was. And before she died, she did this incredible thing that the police told us about later.
She had drawn in her own blood on the floor next to Richard, the shape of a heart and the letter U. Love you is how she used to sign her cards and letters to him. And when I learned that, I was with my mom and my mom burst into tears and she said, it's true, isn't it? Love is stronger than death. And when I heard it, I thought, what?
But this incredible presence of God could explain the kind of serenity and love and luminous grace that could explain her being able to do those in her last moments, this young woman who knew she was dying to have this be her last word on her life. And that changed everything for me. I was working at a big law firm at the time doing corporate law and doing a terrible job of it because I wasn't putting my heart into it. I didn't love it. It wasn't deeply meaningful to me. I didn't love it. It wasn't deeply meaningful to me. And I was cheating my employer as a result.
I wasn't giving it my best. And I realized when Nancy died at age twenty-five, four years younger than me, that life is short and it can be taken from us at any moment. And we have to spend our lives doing things that are deeply meaningful, that do require our whole heart and that do some good for the world. And so I left the corporate firm to be a public defender within months.
And it's a job that I've been doing ever since, a job that I still do. So after Nancy was killed, for six months, the crime went unsolved. No one could explain who would kill this happy young couple with no enemies, with everything in the world to live for. And I was just stunned at the theories that were being floated. That maybe it was the drug runners that were trying to disguise drugs in the coffee warehouse where Richard worked. And maybe he saw something he shouldn't have seen and they killed him. Maybe it was some jealous ex-boyfriend of Nancy's.
I mean, all these crazy things that didn't make any sense and that led to nowhere. And you're listening to Jean Bishop and what a story she's telling us when we come back. More of Jean Bishop's story here on Our American Stories. Folks, if you love the great American stories we tell and love America like we do, we're asking you to become a part of the Our American Stories family. If you agree that America is a good and great country, please make a donation. A monthly gift of $17.76 is fast becoming a favorite option for supporters. Go to OurAmericanStories.com now and go to the donate button and help us keep the great American stories coming.
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After 30 gigabytes, service may be slowed. Receive a comparable iPhone model each year with an acceptable trade-in every year. Requires credit qualification and 36-month phone financing agreement. I'm Jonathan Strickland, host of the podcast Tech Stuff. I sat down with Sunun Shahani of Surf Air Mobility, which recently went public. We talked about flying in electric planes and regional air mobility. The future of travel doesn't have to include crowded airports, cramped seats, or long road trips.
It can be as simple as using an app to book a short-range flight on an electric plane. Learn more on Tech Stuff on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And we're back with our American stories and with Jean Bishop's story about her sister Nancy and her sister's husband Richard's tragic death. Now let's return to more of Jean Bishop and her story. One day I got a phone call in my apartment from the local CBS reporter who wanted to know my reaction to the arrest in my sister's murder case. And I said, you know, what arrest? And he said, there's a teenage boy in custody in the Wanaka police station.
And I was shocked. It was the last thing in the world I expected to find out that it was this skinny 16-year-old who lived a few blocks away from them that had been the one who killed them. He had bragged to his friends and nobody believed him. They thought he was joking when he said that he had done it, until one friend finally did believe him because by this time the trail had grown so cold that the killer felt confident enough to show the gun to his friend, to show the handcuffs like the ones he'd used to tell him in detail how he'd done it. And the friend wasn't going to turn him in at first, didn't turn him in. And then when he was afraid that this young man might kill again and that he'd be a kind of a accomplice to it if he do, finally walked into the Wanaka police station and turned him in. So the police had gotten a warrant, had gone to this young man's home, had found the gun under his bed, tested the ballistics, found it a perfect match to the bullets that killed my family members, found the glass cutter he'd used, found this notebook he kept about killing them with all the press clippings about the murders.
We even found out that he had gone to Nancy and Richard's funeral. So he was arrested. He was held without bond in the Cook County Jail, and he went to trial about a year later. And he took the stand and denied the crime, tried to blame it on someone else that he hadn't done it, that a friend of his had come to his door the night of the murder and knocked on it and handed in the gun and said, here, hide this.
I just killed two people with it. The jury didn't buy it. It contradicted all the physical evidence. It contradicted the details of the crime scene only he would have known about his own confessions to the crime, and so they found him guilty. And when he was sentenced, he got the mandatory sentence that you got at that time in the state of Illinois for a multiple homicide.
And that's life in prison without the possibility of parole. And when he got that sentence, my mom was sitting next to me on these hard wooden benches where you sit in the courtroom as a spectator. And she said to me, we'll never see him again.
And when she told me that, I was glad. I thought, good, you know, I'll never have to think about him again. I had decided very early on that whoever had done it, I was not going to hate him or her because I knew that if I had hate in my heart over the murders of my family members, that there wouldn't be enough hate in the world.
It'd be this vast, endless ocean of hate that I would drift into. And so I had to forgive that person. But the forgiveness that I had given to him wasn't directed directly to him.
I didn't tell him. It was a forgiveness in my own mind and heart just to unchain myself from him. And it was a forgiveness that wasn't really supposed to be about him or for him in any way.
It was really for God because my faith teaches me that we have to forgive as we've been forgiven. And it was for Nancy, because I knew her. She was generous and loving and kind and funny and warm. And she loved life. She loved people. She was carrying life in her body when she was killed. So that's when I decided to work in her memory against gun violence, against the death penalty, against the violence.
