THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, June 3, 1994 TAG: 9406030740
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: D3 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY ROBERT GUY MATTHEWS, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: 940603 LENGTH: PORTSMOUTH
After two years of marriage, Anderson had saved enough money to buy Jeffrey a wedding band. She planned to give it to him for Christmas, but couldn't wait the two months.
{REST} So she and her three young children left the jeweler in Tower Mall and headed to the Subway sandwich shop, where Jeffrey worked. She planned to ask him to marry her again, then watch him smile ``that million-dollar smile'' that won her heart.
But minutes earlier, Jason Matthew Joseph had seen Jeffrey's smile and shot him because of it.
Joseph had come to rob the sandwich shop for drug money. Jeffrey Anderson, 22, did everything he was told. He got on the ground and opened the cash register, but then he made the fatal mistake of smiling.
Joseph pumped a bullet into Anderson's back, killing him. Last week, a judge sentenced Joseph to death for his crime.
After the shooting on Oct. 26, 1992, when Letitia Anderson arrived at the sandwich shop, her husband's body was still on the store floor. Police officers and news reporters had surrounded the shop.
She dropped the wedding band in the car and bolted toward the commotion.
``I came up there running and asked (a police officer) what happened,'' Anderson said last week in an interview. ``They told me to calm down. They told me there had been an accident. I asked if Jeff was dead. (The officer) hesitated and told me yes.''
From that point on, each day crawled after the next. She saw her money dwindle and her responsibilities double. Her salary as a store clerk wasn't enough. The children - ages 5, 3 and 2 at the time - needed extra love, understanding, discipline and constant explanations about why their father was never coming back.
Anderson went from self-pity to anger, from defeated to determined. The nights alone in bed were the worst moments of the day.
``I didn't know what I was going to do or how I was going to make it. I felt that Jeff was my best friend and I just lost him. I didn't want to believe that he was gone and wasn't coming back,'' Anderson said. ``I prayed and prayed, asking God to help me through this and keep me sane. . . . I was hurting so bad. I would leave the kids and go off by myself and think about what next.''
Relatives helped, but they weren't enough. Neither were the friends who comforted her. Endless days in court didn't make life any more bearable.
Police caught Joseph soon after the shooting, but he maintained his innocence throughout preliminary hearings, motions, a jury trial and sentencing.
What hurt most was the fact that Joseph refused to feel empathy for Anderson and her children. Just before a jury found him guilty, Joseph walked by Anderson in a courtroom, shrugged his shoulders and told her, ``S--- happens.''
``That made me want to just reach out and and strangle him. But I told myself, `What good would that do?' '' Anderson said. ``Still, it hurt me so bad.''
Joseph later apologized to Anderson just before Circuit Judge L. Cleaves Manning sentenced him to death. But she doesn't buy it.
``He's sorry he got caught, not sorry for what he did,'' she said. ``If he was still out there, he probably would do it to somebody else.''
These days, Anderson seeks solace and strength in memories of her husband. When she has a bad day, she pulls out the red photo album with the gold embroidery. It's the one devoted to her husband's life and death.
The album chronicles their days as sweethearts at Manor High School, their wedding day, and photos of the couple together, mixed with newspaper clippings about his baseball team. Photos of him in his casket and his funeral are in the back.
``I still cry when I get to that section, but it doesn't hurt like it used to,'' she said.
Life will never return to normal, but it is becoming more bearable, Anderson said. Financially, she is almost back on track. Money from her husband's Social Security, Workmen's Compensation and her own salary buys the necessities.
Disciplining the children has become less of a chore. Counseling and bereavement groups have taught her to deal with the emotional ups and downs.
Still, not a day goes by when she doesn't think of Jeffrey, or ``Pumpkin,'' as she liked to call him. It is his smile she remembers best.
``That boy could smile and just brighten my day. When I got mad at him, he could just smile at me and make me melt,'' she said, then covered her face with her hands, hiding tears. ``That smile is why I think I fell in love with him. . . . I wish my Pumpkin was here.''
{KEYWORDS} MURDER SHOOTING
by CNB