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    The Year I Couldn't Cry
    The Year I Couldn't Cry
    The Year I Couldn't Cry
    Ebook117 pages1 hour

    The Year I Couldn't Cry

    By Nancy Seberiano

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    About this ebook

    The Year I Couldn't Cry documents a mother's eyewitness account of her daughter's brutal murder, subsequent trial, custody of two infant children, and four other funerals in less than a year.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPage Publishing, Inc.
    Release dateAug 28, 2024
    ISBN9798886548563
    The Year I Couldn't Cry

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    • 1/5
      This book is horrible. I can't believe someone actually published this garbage. Shame on you Nancy Seberiano, for your one sided account. I am sorry for your loss but this is a selfish story. For you to say at the end that you believe in God but wish upon the parents to lose their house and everything they have is NOT very Godly Nancy. The parents did not murder your daughter, Babe. And to attack the mother of Vince and to have the whole chapter 10 about that lady is crazy when you claim ro be God fearing. My opinion and I am sure you don't care but it's mine.

    Book preview

    The Year I Couldn't Cry - Nancy Seberiano

    cover.jpg

    The Year I Couldn't Cry

    Nancy Seberiano

    Copyright © 2024 Nancy Seberiano

    All rights reserved

    First Edition

    PAGE PUBLISHING

    Conneaut Lake, PA

    First originally published by Page Publishing 2024

    ISBN 979-8-88654-857-0 (pbk)

    ISBN 979-8-88654-856-3 (digital)

    Printed in the United States of America

    Table of Contents

    In memory of my beloved daughter, Babe Anne Rollins, murdered just before the prime of her life. If Babe had lived, she would have finished school a month later, and started her new life as a legal secretary. If her story can save anyone from the same fate, then she did not die in vain.

    A special thanks to my mom, daughters, and son who helped me fill in all the blanks.

    Chapter 1

    At the Start

    Chapter 2

    The Aftermath

    Chapter 3

    Police Involvement

    Chapter 4

    Night Is Coming

    Chapter 5

    The Funeral

    Chapter 6

    Nightmares

    Chapter 7

    Government Involvement

    Chapter 8

    Attempting a Distraction

    Chapter 9

    Insurance Company

    Chapter 10

    Trial Preparation

    Chapter 11

    Vincent's Mother

    Chapter 12

    The Actual Trial

    Chapter 13

    Another Flood of Pain

    Chapter 14

    After the Holidays

    Postscript

    (Living in the Present)

    About the Author

    last_picture

    In memory of my beloved daughter, Babe Anne Rollins, murdered just before the prime of her life. If Babe had lived, she would have finished school a month later, and started her new life as a legal secretary. If her story can save anyone from the same fate, then she did not die in vain.

    A special thanks to my mom, daughters, and son who helped me fill in all the blanks.

    Chapter 1

    At the Start

    I came home about midnight, Friday (February, 8, 2002). There were four police cars surrounding my house. My daughter, Babe, lived in the lower half of the house, and I lived in the upper half. I pulled into the driveway; the police, of course, asked who I was. I told them that I lived upstairs, gave them my name, and said that my daughter lived downstairs. The officer asked if I knew where my daughter was. I told him that I had just gotten off work and had not seen her since Monday (February, 4, 2002).

    Babe worked the first shift (at a local factory) Beckett Gas and was usually in bed by the time I got off work (bartending). Babe left for work at 5:30 a.m., so she was usually gone by the time that I woke up each day. Just then, some woman came up to me from next door and said that she had my granddaughters, Taliyah and Amaya. She said that Babe's husband, Vincent, had dropped them off about 11 a.m. (February, 7, 2002) that morning and that she had not seen him since. I took the girls upstairs to my apartment and put them to bed. After making sure that the girls were okay and safe, I went back downstairs to Babe's apartment to talk to the police.

    The officer asked me when was the last time that I talked to my daughter. I informed the officer that I had talked to Babe on the phone two nights before, on Tuesday (February, 6, 2002). When I came home that night, there was a message on my answering machine from Babe. Mom, call me when you come home! So about 1:30 a.m. (February, 6, 2002), I called her to find out what she wanted. She asked me to put her three-year-old daughter, Taliyah, on the bus in the morning and take care of the two-year-old, Amaya. I told her, No problem. Just bring them upstairs when you go to work. She had a set of keys to my apartment so she could let herself in, sometimes in the mornings.

    Normally I would leave the door unlocked for her when I went to bed, just so it was more convenient for her to get in with a child in her arms. But this night, I was already in bed when I realized that I hadn't left the door open. I was too lazy to make the extra effort. I was thinking, She's got her own key! So I told the officer that I went to bed.

    About 5:30 a.m. (February, 6, 2002), I heard her car leave for work. When I woke up (at approximately 8:00 a.m.) to get my granddaughter ready for school, I went into the living room to find the girls not there! I listened for a minute and could hear the girls playing downstairs. I looked outside the window and saw Babe's car was gone. This meant that Babe was at work, and her husband was watching the girls, so I went back to bed. A few minutes later, I heard the horn on the school bus waiting for Taliyah. I looked out, and the bus left without her. I remember thinking that he was too lazy to get up and put his kid on the bus.

    The police asked me if she went to work on Thursday, and if not when was the last day that she worked. I called the factory; I used to work there with Babe but on a different shift. I tried to talk to my old boss (the shift supervisor) because her brother was Babe's boss on the day shift. Nevertheless, she was not at work at that time, and they would not call her for me, nor would they give me her telephone number. I had no way to verify that information. I had not seen my daughter since Monday (6 p.m. on February, 4, 2002), and she could have been missing for the past four days.

    The officer wanted to know the names and phone numbers of any of her friends where she might hide! I only knew one of her close friends by name, but I didn't know her last name or her phone number. Sylania was the only friend that Babe might hide in her house, but I did not know her well enough to find her. I asked the police if they had searched everywhere for my daughter? They said that they had searched the entire house. Then I asked, Did you look in every nook and cranny in the basement? Her husband could have stuffed her body down there! I knew that Babe would never leave and go anywhere without her children. The officer said that they had made a thorough search of the entire house; she was nowhere to be found. (Relieved to hear this, I assumed that she was at Sylania's house!)

    The officer asked me what kind of car Babe had. I told him a small dark green one, but I was unsure of the make, model, or year. She had gotten it over the weekend, and I hadn't had the chance to get a good look at it yet! The police had also told me that they found a rejection notice in her mailbox that said her car loan was declined, and she was to return the car. I said that maybe it had been repossessed. I told the officer, When you find it, look in the trunk for my daughter! It was so unlike my daughter, to be anywhere, without her children. They were her whole life! When all the police were leaving, they said that she was over twenty-one and was allowed to be missing if she wanted to.

    After the police left, I went back upstairs to check up on the girls. I made sure they were safe, warm, and asleep. I started to call everyone I could think of who would know Sylania's last name. First, I called my oldest daughter, Jane; she lived about an hour east. I informed her that Babe was missing and went over everything that I had discussed with the police. I asked her if she knew Sylania's last name or phone number. She did not, so I thanked her and said, "I'm

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