THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, February 22, 1996 TAG: 9602220309
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Charlies Lyles
LENGTH: Medium: 79 lines
Wednesday was Rosalee's birthday.
Her sister would've been wrapping gifts, warming the homemade cinnamon buns, scooping chocolate and strawberry ice cream, pouring Pepsi and joking about who's aging the fastest.
Instead, Debbie Daniels was giving advice on how to catch a killer.
``Get out there and do something about it,'' said Daniels, an elegant, fine-boned woman with a voice sweet enough to hush a songbird. ``Make a list of names, give the detectives every telephone number, every address. Call every day.
``We wrote city council, senators, the governor, the president of the United States, anyone who would listen to us.''
Then add ``a lot of prayer, a lot of determination.''
That recipe of outage, action, cooperation and sweet inspiration brought Rosalee L. Boone's killer to justice.
In April 1992, an angry ex-boyfriend set her Portsmouth townhouse on fire. She died gasping, ``just a breath away from fresh air.''
``People outside saw her at the window,'' recalled Daniels. ``They tried to get to her, but they couldn't.''
She was 36.
With Daniels' assistance, police arrested Clarence Roulhac Jr. two weeks later in South Carolina. He was sentenced to 70 years for arson and murder. When he becomes eligible for parole, Daniels' eye will be on the sparrow.
It has been almost four years. Still Feb. 21 is a difficult day for little sister Daniels, who is now 36. Wednesday, she felt anxious and empty.
``Stressed. I'm always stressed during her birthday,'' said Daniels. ``There's still a lot of frustration and sometimes I'm still really bitter.''
She heard the whispered girlhood secrets and even wondered about the secrets they had promised to exchange the day Rosalee died.
And Daniels saw Rosalee's shining, lipsticked smile.
Other lost smiles come into focus. . . like that of Janice Lee, a 30-year-old woman who was decapitated in June 1991. Just like Rosalee, she left behind two children. Daniels saw Lee's photo with a column I wrote about how her killer has yet to be caught.
``In her smile, I can see the smile of my sister,'' Daniels said, ``someone who was so giving and trusting of others that it made no sense that she should have died in the manner that she did.
``But what is more devastating is the fact that no one really put Janice's death in the forefront enough to find and convict the killer who so brutally took her life.''
Rosalee's birthdate falls a week after Valentine's Day and three-quarters of the way through Black History Month. Is there any better time to talk tough love to African-American communities that have grown weary and complacent in the face of crime and murder?
Daniels urged Lee's family and victims of any hue to get busy until justice is done.
``Get everyone who knew her together to discuss all they know. . . Something may be said that adds up to evidence.''
``Call everyone on her job, everyone that she frequently spoke to. Meet with them along with detectives.''
``Write a victim's impact statement. . . to let the justice system know that someone cared about her.''
Get the whole family involved. Daniels delegated investigative duties to four brothers. Husband Michael took care of the children and house.
Ask for your employer's moral support. Daniels' co-workers at Hope House took turns going to trial with her. Her boss, Lynne Seagle, went with her to talk to a prosecutor.
In a letter, Daniels asked me to share these pointers with Lee's family and the community.
She closed it: ``This is written for my only sister Rosalee Boone during Black History Month, February, 1996.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
In April 1992, an ex-boyfriend set Rosalee L. Boone's townhouse on
fire. She died gasping, ``just a breath away from fresh air.''
by CNB