A Survivor's Hurt Continued

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7NJ0802A0719 7NJ0802A0719 ZALLCALL 15 19:37:17 07/18/09 B 8A Sunday, July 19, 2009 The Daytona Beach News-Journal CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1A ‘‘The child who left that Sunday morning to attend church was not the same child who came back home later that day.’’ — Robin Kann, Jonathan Rentz Eidelbach’s mother Survivor’s feelings of guilt over friend’s death never left him CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1A structure, thinking it was a junkyard office, to ask permission for the wood. Quaggin, however, a retired float builder, thought the boys were there to rob him. He confronted Jonathan and Eric barking out, ‘‘What the hell do you want?’’ according to court records. The sound of gunfire shattered the air, as Quaggin shot Eric in the chest with a .357 magnum handgun, police said. Jonathan watched as his best friend tumbled backwards, clutching his bloody chest. He later told his family Eric looked him straight in the eye as he went down. TERROR NEVER SUBSIDES In the 9-1-1 call Quaggin made to report the shooting, Jonathan is heard wailing in the background as the elderly man spoke to Volusia County sheriff’s dispatcher Patricia Cantrell. Despite Jonathan’s uncontrollable sobs, the septuagenarian’s voice remained hard, telling Cantrell that the gun was still cocked. ‘‘You need to put the gun away,’’ Cantrell said sharply. ‘‘You’re scaring that child to death.’’ Quaggin was convicted of manslaughter in 1998, receiving a 15-year prison sentence. But that was overturned in 2000 after an appeals court agreed that the first jury had been given misleading instructions. He was acquitted in his second trial in October 2000 and he went on with his life, dying of congestive heart failure in April at the age of 88. Despite his loss, Jonathan forgave Quaggin for killing his friend, Kann said. But he could never get on with his life. According to his mother, stepfather and the fiancee he left behind, the 11 years following Eric’s shooting were underscored by self- destructive behavior that seemed to give Jonathan a temporary escape from the anguish he felt over losing Eric. ‘‘The child who left that Sunday morning to attend church was not the same child who came back home later that day,’’ Kann said. Unable to reconcile with the fact that there was nothing he could have done to save Eric, Jonathan blamed himself for the shooting. He tried to hang himself from a tree in his front yard several times; he was taken into custody under the state’s Baker Act 30 times; he was hospitalized for depression eight times. ‘‘Jonathan had post- traumatic stress disorder,’’ said his stepfather, Chris Rentz, who lives in DeLand. ‘‘Life was always very stressful. Neither one of us (he or ex-wife Robin) knew how to deal with it.’’ Ormond Beach therapist Venetia Barksdale is familiar with cases such as Jonathan’s. Barksdale said trauma caused by prolonged abuse, violent crime, war and accidents, more often than not, prompt post-traumatic stress. ‘‘Depending upon the person and the severity of the trauma, a painful condition known as post-traumatic stress disorder develops,’’ Barksdale said. Days after the shooting, Jonathan would go to Eric’s house, said Eric’s mother, Maria Russell. ‘‘He would sleep in Eric’s bed because it was the only way he could feel close to him,’’ Russell said. ‘‘He would call me often because I was his only connection to Eric.’’ FRAGILE, ‘LIKE GLASS SHATTERING’ It seemed that every time Jonathan visited Russell’s Deltona home, he came back worse, Kann said. The first time he tried to hang himself was the day after he spent a night in Eric’s bed. Then, when Jonathan turned 12, the cutting started. The self-inflicted abuse was the only way Jonathan could handle the storm of feelings that raged inside him about the shooting. The pain from his bloody wounds was so intense that it temporarily erased the pain of Eric’s death, he would later write in a journal he kept. While therapists and the people in his own family tried desperately to reach Jonathan, the boy would only pour out his feelings in his journal. It was apparently the one place where he could describe just how dark his world had become. The booklet contains not only handwritten words describing Jonathan’s desperation, but also bizarre, yet artistic and creative images that evoked his tormented mindset. ‘‘I should have saved him,’’ Jonathan wrote in black magic marker on one page of the well-worn booklet. ‘‘His lifeless body on the floor, trembling. I want to save you Eric . . . I’m sorry.’’ On another page of the journal, Jonathan wrote of his desire to die. ‘‘If I kill myself, will I wake up out of this dream? Maybe there is a better life,’’ he wrote. ‘‘I feel that I’ve been in this dream too long. I am so convinced that it’s not real. I have had enough. Just let me die in a deep slumber.’’ Kann said her two daughters — April Kann, now 18, and Michelle Slavin, now 27 — had a tough time dealing with Jonathan’s episodes, as well. Michelle, the mother of young children, did not want Jonathan to come near her kids, Kann said. ‘‘Imagine being a kid and having your younger or older brother trying to hang himself from the tree in the front yard,’’ Kann said. ‘‘Life in our house was like glass shattering all the time.’’ Although Jonathan had several interests — surfing, skateboarding, art and music — he would always come back to Eric. One thing he never lost, however, was his compassion for the less fortunate, Kann said. Jonathan had an affinity for the homeless, giving them money whenever possible or buying food for them. And as he grew older, Jonathan fell in love. It was Arissa Suarez, the 18-year-old fiancee he left behind, who encouraged Jonathan to go to school to become a motorcycle mechanic. Kann said her son attended classes regularly at WyoTech Daytona, at Destination Daytona, and it was actually the first time since Eric’s death that she had seen her son get excited about something. He also had a deep affection for Suarez. ‘‘He was my heart,’’ the young woman said recently. ‘‘We were so much in love.’’ Nonetheless, Suarez recognized that Jonathan’s sadness was his constant companion: ‘‘He always talked about this man Quaggin. Johnny cried every day.’’ Jonathan seemed to be turning a corner, his mother said, when he moved to a new apartment on Daytona Beach’s beachside last year. The place was everything the 21-year-old wanted because it was just a few yards from the ocean. He threw a party Nov. 29 to celebrate, but at some point Jonathan drank and took some pills. Autopsy results said he died of an accidental drug and alcohol overdose. Kann and Suarez both said he was on three different medications, all for anxiety and depression. The following morning, Jonathan’s younger sister April Kann, who had spent the night after the party, found her brother in his bed. He had died in his sleep. Above and below are images from Jonathan Rentz Eidelbach’s journal, provided to The Daytona Beach News-Journal by his family. At top is the cover; the page is an entry in which Jonathan describes his feelings of guilt. Images like the one below were taken from magazines and juxtaposed with text. Jonathan Rentz Eidelbach with his 18-year-old fiancee, Arissa Suarez, just before his death last November. Robin Kann photo 12 Years of Tragedy In Memory Of Jonathan MARCH 16, 1997: Eric Brooks, 14, is shot to death in a home on the property of Stanley Quaggin as Brooks and Jonathan Rentz Eidel- bach, 10, rummaged through Quaggin’s property. Quaggin, 76, faced more than $3 mil- lion in code enforcement fines on the property, where he built parade floats. The boys thought they were in a junk- yard. MARCH 21, 1997: Quaggin is charged with the rape of two children in the 1950s and ’60s. He later pleaded to misdemeanor battery and got time served. APRIL 2, 1997: Quaggin is in- dicted on a charge of man- slaughter in Brooks’ death. JUNE 25, 1998: Quaggin is found guilty of manslaughter and two months later sen- tenced to 15 years in prison. He was released during his appeal because of health problems. JAN. 14, 2000: The 5th Dis- trict Court of Appeal grants Quaggin a new trial because of several errors in the first trial. He is found not guilty 10 months later. NOV. 30, 2008: After a party celebrating his new apart- ment, Eidelbach is found dead in his bed by his sister. An autopsy showed a drug and alcohol overdose killed the 21-year-old. APRIL 24, 2009: Quaggin dies of congestive heart fail- ure at age 88 in a nursing home. SOURCE: News-Journal research Robin Kann, a DeLand mother whose late son struggled emotionally over his friend’s killing, opened a bank account in her son’s name: WHAT IT’S FOR: Jona- than David’s House for the Homeless. Jonathan Rentz Eidelbach always had a soft spot for homeless people and gave what he could be- fore his death last year. Kann said she hopes to fulfill Jonathan’s dream of establishing a safe ha- ven for homeless people. HOW TO GIVE: Donate at Riverside National Bank to account No. 1000-1832-174. Volusia County Sheriff’s Office This crime scene evidence photo shows Stanley Quaggin’s home on Parade Circle near DeLand, where 14-year-old Eric Brooks was shot and killed by Quaggin. ï ï Magenta Cyan Yellow Black

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This is the jump page for a Page 1A centerpiece that I designed and copy edited. I helped select these haunting images from the victim's journal provided by his mother.

Transcript of A Survivor's Hurt Continued

Page 1: A Survivor's Hurt Continued

7NJ0802A0719 7NJ0802A0719 ZALLCALL 15 19:37:17 07/18/09 B

8A Sunday, July 19, 2009 The Daytona Beach News-JournalCONTINUED FROM PAGE 1A

‘‘The child who left that Sunday morningto attend church was not the same child

who came back home later that day.’’— Robin Kann, Jonathan Rentz Eidelbach’s mother

Survivor’s feelingsof guilt over friend’sdeath never left him

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1A

structure, thinking it was ajunkyard office, to askpermission for the wood.

Quaggin, however, a retiredfloat builder, thought the boyswere there to rob him. Heconfronted Jonathan and Ericbarking out, ‘‘What the hell doyou want?’’ according to courtrecords.

The sound of gunfireshattered the air, as Quagginshot Eric in the chest with a.357 magnum handgun, policesaid.

Jonathan watched as hisbest friend tumbledbackwards, clutching hisbloody chest. He later told hisfamily Eric looked himstraight in the eye as he wentdown.

TERROR NEVER SUBSIDESIn the 9-1-1 call Quaggin

made to report the shooting,Jonathan is heard wailing inthe background as the elderlyman spoke to Volusia Countysheriff’s dispatcher PatriciaCantrell. Despite Jonathan’suncontrollable sobs, theseptuagenarian’s voiceremained hard, tellingCantrell that the gun was stillcocked.

‘‘You need to put the gunaway,’’ Cantrell said sharply.‘‘You’re scaring that child todeath.’’

Quaggin was convicted ofmanslaughter in 1998,receiving a 15-year prisonsentence. But that wasoverturned in 2000 after anappeals court agreed that thefirst jury had been givenmisleading instructions. Hewas acquitted in his secondtrial in October 2000 and hewent on with his life, dying ofcongestive heart failure inApril at the age of 88.

Despite his loss, Jonathanforgave Quaggin for killinghis friend, Kann said.

But he could never get onwith his life.

According to his mother,stepfather and the fiancee heleft behind, the 11 yearsfollowing Eric’s shooting wereunderscored by self-destructive behavior thatseemed to give Jonathan atemporary escape from theanguish he felt over losingEric.

‘‘The child who left thatSunday morning to attendchurch was not the same childwho came back home laterthat day,’’ Kann said.

Unable to reconcile with thefact that there was nothing hecould have done to save Eric,Jonathan blamed himself forthe shooting.

He tried to hang himselffrom a tree in his front yardseveral times; he was takeninto custody under the state’sBaker Act 30 times; he washospitalized for depressioneight times.

‘‘Jonathan had post-traumatic stress disorder,’’said his stepfather, ChrisRentz, who lives in DeLand.‘‘Life was always verystressful. Neither one of us (heor ex-wife Robin) knew how todeal with it.’’

Ormond Beach therapist

Venetia Barksdale is familiarwith cases such as Jonathan’s.Barksdale said trauma causedby prolonged abuse, violentcrime, war and accidents,more often than not, promptpost-traumatic stress.

‘‘Depending upon the personand the severity of thetrauma, a painful conditionknown as post-traumaticstress disorder develops,’’Barksdale said.

Days after the shooting,Jonathan would go to Eric’shouse, said Eric’s mother,Maria Russell.

‘‘He would sleep in Eric’sbed because it was the onlyway he could feel close tohim,’’ Russell said. ‘‘He wouldcall me often because I washis only connection to Eric.’’

FRAGILE, ‘LIKE GLASS SHATTERING’It seemed that every time

Jonathan visited Russell’sDeltona home, he came backworse, Kann said. The firsttime he tried to hang himselfwas the day after he spent anight in Eric’s bed.

Then, when Jonathanturned 12, the cutting started.

The self-inflicted abuse wasthe only way Jonathan couldhandle the storm of feelingsthat raged inside him aboutthe shooting. The pain fromhis bloody wounds was sointense that it temporarilyerased the pain of Eric’sdeath, he would later write ina journal he kept.

While therapists and thepeople in his own family trieddesperately to reach Jonathan,the boy would only pour outhis feelings in his journal.

It was apparently the oneplace where he could describejust how dark his world hadbecome. The booklet containsnot only handwritten wordsdescribing Jonathan’sdesperation, but also bizarre,yet artistic and creativeimages that evoked histormented mindset.

‘‘I should have saved him,’’Jonathan wrote in blackmagic marker on one page ofthe well-worn booklet. ‘‘Hislifeless body on the floor,trembling. I want to save youEric . . . I’m sorry.’’

On another page of thejournal, Jonathan wrote of hisdesire to die.

‘‘If I kill myself, will I wakeup out of this dream? Maybethere is a better life,’’ hewrote. ‘‘I feel that I’ve been inthis dream too long. I am soconvinced that it’s not real. Ihave had enough. Just let medie in a deep slumber.’’

Kann said her twodaughters — April Kann, now18, and Michelle Slavin, now27 — had a tough time dealingwith Jonathan’s episodes, aswell. Michelle, the mother ofyoung children, did not wantJonathan to come near herkids, Kann said.

‘‘Imagine being a kid andhaving your younger or olderbrother trying to hang himselffrom the tree in the frontyard,’’ Kann said. ‘‘Life in ourhouse was like glassshattering all the time.’’

Although Jonathan hadseveral interests — surfing,skateboarding, art and music

— he would always come backto Eric.

One thing he never lost,however, was his compassionfor the less fortunate, Kannsaid. Jonathan had an affinityfor the homeless, giving themmoney whenever possible orbuying food for them.

And as he grew older,Jonathan fell in love.

It was Arissa Suarez, the18-year-old fiancee he leftbehind, who encouragedJonathan to go to school to

become a motorcyclemechanic. Kann said her sonattended classes regularly atWyoTech Daytona, atDestination Daytona, and itwas actually the first timesince Eric’s death that she hadseen her son get excited aboutsomething.

He also had a deep affectionfor Suarez.

‘‘He was my heart,’’ theyoung woman said recently.‘‘We were so much in love.’’

Nonetheless, Suarez

recognized that Jonathan’ssadness was his constantcompanion: ‘‘He always talkedabout this man Quaggin.Johnny cried every day.’’

Jonathan seemed to beturning a corner, his mothersaid, when he moved to a newapartment on Daytona Beach’sbeachside last year. The placewas everything the 21-year-oldwanted because it was just afew yards from the ocean.

He threw a party Nov. 29 tocelebrate, but at some point

Jonathan drank and tooksome pills. Autopsy resultssaid he died of an accidentaldrug and alcohol overdose.Kann and Suarez both said hewas on three differentmedications, all for anxietyand depression.

The following morning,Jonathan’s younger sisterApril Kann, who had spentthe night after the party,found her brother in his bed.

He had died in his sleep.

Above and below areimages fromJonathan RentzEidelbach’s journal,provided to TheDaytona BeachNews-Journal by hisfamily. At top is thecover; the page is anentry in whichJonathan describeshis feelings of guilt.Images like the onebelow were takenfrom magazines andjuxtaposed with text.

JonathanRentzEidelbachwith his18-year-oldfiancee,ArissaSuarez, justbefore hisdeath lastNovember.

Robin Kann photo

12 Years of Tragedy In MemoryOf JonathanMARCH 16, 1997: Eric

Brooks, 14, is shot to death ina home on the property ofStanley Quaggin as Brooksand Jonathan Rentz Eidel-bach, 10, rummaged throughQuaggin’s property. Quaggin,76, faced more than $3 mil-lion in code enforcement fineson the property, where hebuilt parade floats. The boysthought they were in a junk-yard.MARCH 21, 1997: Quaggin ischarged with the rape of twochildren in the 1950sand ’60s. He later pleaded tomisdemeanor battery and gottime served.APRIL 2, 1997: Quaggin is in-dicted on a charge of man-slaughter in Brooks’ death.JUNE 25, 1998: Quaggin isfound guilty of manslaughter

and two months later sen-tenced to 15 years in prison.He was released during hisappeal because of healthproblems.JAN. 14, 2000: The 5th Dis-trict Court of Appeal grantsQuaggin a new trial becauseof several errors in the firsttrial. He is found not guilty 10months later.NOV. 30, 2008: After a partycelebrating his new apart-ment, Eidelbach is founddead in his bed by his sister.An autopsy showed a drugand alcohol overdose killedthe 21-year-old.APRIL 24, 2009: Quaggindies of congestive heart fail-ure at age 88 in a nursinghome.

SOURCE: News-Journal research

Robin Kann, a DeLandmother whose late sonstruggled emotionallyover his friend’s killing,opened a bank accountin her son’s name:

WHAT IT’S FOR: Jona-than David’s House forthe Homeless. JonathanRentz Eidelbach alwayshad a soft spot forhomeless people andgave what he could be-fore his death last year.Kann said she hopes tofulfill Jonathan’s dreamof establishing a safe ha-ven for homeless people.HOW TO GIVE: Donateat Riverside NationalBank to account No.1000-1832-174.

Volusia County Sheriff’s Office

This crime scene evidence photo shows Stanley Quaggin’s home on Parade Circle nearDeLand, where 14-year-old Eric Brooks was shot and killed by Quaggin.

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