I've found your grave - interview of Vernetta Cockerham, 40, Jonesville, North Carolina
February 4 2010
What's that old saying? You can pick friends, but not your family. Well, as soon as Richard Ellerbee had become my neighbour, we'd picked each other as friends. My daughter Candice, then six, thought he was great, too, always taking us to the cinema.
'Can I have a milkshake?' Candice would ask.
Every time, he'd wink the same reply. 'Course, just don't tell your mum.' Cheeky and kind, he was just the fun mate I needed as a single mum. Within months, we'd fallen into a routine. After work, Richard came over to mine and, while I cooked tea, he'd help Candice with her homework. 'I got an A in history,' she'd brag.
'Well done, love,' I'd smile.
'It's Richard,' she'd nod. 'He knows everything.'
He certainly knew what to do when we found out Candice was being bullied. 'I'm not having this,' he stormed, going straight round to see the lad who'd been tormenting her. A quiet chat later, the bullying had stopped.
Candice worshipped Richard. Even saving up her pocket money to buy him a new shirt to wear to his labouring job. 'Thanks,' he said, tears filling his eyes.
Every day, I thanked my lucky stars Richard was in our lives.
He might have been 13 years older than me, but we had so much in common - like if we were watching a movie at home with popcorn, he'd only pick out the bits coated in toffee. 'They're my favourite,' I'd squeal.
'You snooze, you lose,' he'd tease.
Then it happened. Six months after becoming friends, we shared a kiss. 'I've been wanting to do that for ages,' he breathed.
Candice was delighted when she found out he was moving in. 'About time,' she shrieked.
It seemed not only could I pick my friends, but my family, too! And Richard was the perfect addition.
When Candice was 13, I fell pregnant. 'I can't wait to be a big sister,' she grinned.
'Great, I'll put you down for nappy duty,' teased Richard.
'No way,' she grimaced.
'Sick patrol?' he chuckled.
'Gross,' she sniggered.
When Rashieq was born, though, she took her responsibilities very seriously. Richard showed her how to change a nappy, and she always read her little brother bedtime stories. It was the same when our son Dominiq was born a year later.
'You two should get married, so we're a proper family,'
Candice suggested.
'She's got a point,' Richard grinned, wrapping his arm around her.
So we did just that, in front of friends and family. A brilliant day. 'I can finally call you dad,' Candice grinned.
'You've always been my daughter,' Richard said, gently.
I was so happy.
Richard was my best friend, husband and soulmate. Of course life isn't a fairy tale, though - a few months after the wedding, Richard was made redundant.
'Let me help if something's wrong,' I gently offered.
'You couldn't help even if you wanted,' he suddenly snarled. 'Mind your own business and
stop interfering.'
In the whole eight years I'd known Richard, he'd never once spoken to me like that. The stress of being unemployed was really getting to him.
To cheer him up, I organised a family picnic for the next day. But Richard's face was like thunder.
'I'm not going,' he spat. 'I'm not spending time with you and some irritating kids.'
'Suit yourself,' I snapped, losing my temper.
'You'll pay for this,' he snarled.
'Really? What are you?' But I couldn't finish my sentence. Pain shot down the side of my head. I fell to the floor.
Woozy, I came to with Richard standing over me with a baseball bat. 'There's more where that came
from,' he hissed,
then walked through the gate whistling.
Unsteadily, I got to my feet and touched my forehead - I was bleeding.
But I wasn't worried about me. Had the kids seen?
No, I could see them playing together in Candice's bedroom.
Hearing their innocent laughter, my blood boiled. I couldn't expose them to violence like that. Richard might have been my world but, the moment he hit me, he'd cancelled out our lives together.
What the hell had he been thinking? How could he snap like that after eight happy years together? Dashing inside before the children saw me, I called the police.
Richard was charged with assault and forced to move out of our home. I was devastated I'd lost my husband. As for Candice, she couldn't cope at all. 'I hate him, but miss him,' she sobbed.
'I know, but it's for the best.'
'Why did he do it, Mum?' she begged. 'I thought he loved us.'
'So did I,' I sighed.
Poor girl couldn't eat or sleep. She was so confused, even her schoolwork started slipping.
But I couldn't go back. Richard was bad news. He wasn't about to go away, though.
He'd got a new job as a grave digger, and started leaving creepy messages on my answerphone.
'I'll put you and the kids in these graves,' he sneered.
Another time? 'I've found the perfect plot,' he whispered.
Terrified, I continually rang the police. They said there was nothing they could do. Not even when he broke into our house and stole cash from the kids' piggy banks.
Four months after he'd left, I popped around a neighbour's for coffee while Candice prepared for a job interview. She was 17, turning into a young woman with a bright future. 'I'll give you a lift,' I'd said. 'Get me when you're ready.'
An hour later, she still hadn't appeared, though. So I nipped back across the road to see what was keeping her. Hmmm, wonder why the front door's open? 'You there, love?' I called, stepping inside.
Suddenly, I felt a hand around my neck, and the cool steel of a knife pressed against my throat.
Terror tore through me as I tried struggling free. 'I've killed her,' hissed a voice. I froze - Richard. 'Now I'm going to kill you.'
No, he wouldn't hurt Candice. She'd looked up to him, trusted him, called him Dad. There was no way he'd hurt her? he was just saying it to scare me.
But he might kill me?
With a burst of strength, I tried wriggling free.
But Richard was too fast.
A flash of something. A sharp pain like ice and fire running across my throat. Blood everywhere, suddenly weak?
Blacking out, I fell to the floor.
My eyelids fluttered open.
Where was Richard? No sign, thank God. But where had all that blood come from?
There was a big pool of it
beside me. Jesus! Richard had slashed my neck!
No sooner had I thought that, an even worse thought flashed through my head.
My daughter. Where was Candice? What if Richard really had done something to her?
I tried to get up. Stupid legs!
They wouldn't hold me up.
I tried to push myself up with my arms. They wobbled and slipped from under me.
Must get help!
I looked around. Yes! The phone was in reach!
'Police,' I gasped. Then I blacked out.
When I came to again, I was in the hospital.
'Where's Candice?' I begged.
Doctors gently explained that police had found me unconscious - and Candice with her mouth and nose covered in heavy duct tape.
She'd been brutally bound and beaten, before being strangled with an electrical flex.
I struggled to breathe.
This man had been our best friend, and then family. He'd shown Candice how to change a nappy, helped her with homework, even protected her from bullies.
She'd hung on his every word - and he'd murdered her.
The monster had to pay.
'He'll be at his sister's house,' I told police.
They were too late, though.
By the time officers arrived, Richard had gone to a nearby park, doused his clothes in petrol, and set fire to himself.
He was dead, the coward.
Without even the satisfaction of justice, how could I go on?
I'd have given anything to see a flash of Candice's smile, to see her playing with her little brothers.
Never again. She'd been my life, and I'd thought she'd been Richard's, too. Clearly not.
I couldn't let that cruel man wipe her out completely, though. Desperate to keep her memory alive, I set up a charity for battered women called Candice's Heart.
Now, with the help of thousands of friends, family, well-wishers and supporters, I know that Candice's heart will go on - forever.
Vernetta Cockerham, 40, Jonesville, North Carolina
Daniel Pinna 
Kathy Pinna 
