He’d say, “This is who I am, and I’m not going to change. If you don’t like it, go find another church.” So in those days, St. John’s actually lost a lot of parishioners.
These days, Rol says, “Look within this parish. Look at a lot of different members. Come join us and we’ll work things out.”
Not long ago we had one parishioner who took it upon herself to research the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd program. It’s designed to teach four- and five-year-old children about the sacraments. It was quite an expensive thing, with lots of specially constructed child-sized furniture and icons and vessels. Hard work. Patsy and John decided to finance the entire project, which cost several thousand dollars. They were always generous in pledging.
Patsy was dynamic—to the point where she could be annoying. She absolutely could be. She was a take-charge person with very definite ideas. And she had this living angel. JonBenét was an actual angel. I don’t remember ever seeing any child more beautiful. Always dressed stunningly. I heard about the murder on NPR radio.
—Robert Elmore
At 10:00 A . M . on Friday, December 27, Pam Griffin and her daughter, Kristine, a senior in high school, sat before a tape recorder in a small windowless room at police headquarters. Griffin told Larry Mason what she knew. She was the seamstress who made JonBenét’s pageant costumes and Patsy’s confidante about beauty pageants. Kristine was one of JonBenét’s runway teachers.
The police wanted to know if she’d ever seen any inappropriate behavior between the Ramseys and JonBenét—anything abusive. Griffin said she hadn’t. She had never even seen them discipline their children, she claimed. Pam told Mason that these were parents who didn’t demand respect from their kids—it was they who respected their children. That was the best way she could describe the relationship. And then there was all the love in JonBenét’s eyes when she spoke to her father. Everything he said was important to her, Griffin said. Mason then asked for information about child beauty pageants. JonBenét had won several, Griffin said. On the previous Sunday, December 22, she had performed at the Southwest Plaza as a pageant winner. Was JonBenét forced into the pageants, Mason wanted to know. Not that Griffin could see.
Then Kristine was interviewed. She gave much the same answers.
In 1995, four of us parents thought we could start a public elementary school that would work the way schools should. We wrote a 140-page proposal and got a lot of articles published in the local newspaper. We called it a focus school.
It took a marketing effort to convince parents to signtheir kids up for a school that didn’t have a building, didn’t have teachers, didn’t have physical materials to show. You have to remember that these kids are precious.
At one organizing meeting in someone’s home, a man sat back and listened, listened carefully, and asked a few questions. Then he said thank you and left. That’s how I met John Ramsey.
In the fall of 1995, High Peaks Elementary, our school, opened. Patsy enrolled Burke in the third grade. Hers was the first southern voice I’d heard in a long time—there aren’t many southerners in Boulder. She was very overdressed for our little city. Her hair was always done, and she always wore city outfits and hats. Of course I didn’t know then that she was recovering from chemotherapy and that her hair was still growing back.
High Peaks depended on volunteers for survival, and Patsy volunteered all the time. It wasn’t long before we got to know each other. Nothing stopped Patsy from doing what needed to be done. John wasn’t active at school. He traveled a great deal. He looked just like an ordinary guy. He could be in a room and never be noticed.
Around Valentine’s Day of 1996, my daughter, Megan, met JonBenét for the first time. They were both in preschool. I remember the first time I saw them
These days, Rol says, “Look within this parish. Look at a lot of different members. Come join us and we’ll work things out.”
Not long ago we had one parishioner who took it upon herself to research the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd program. It’s designed to teach four- and five-year-old children about the sacraments. It was quite an expensive thing, with lots of specially constructed child-sized furniture and icons and vessels. Hard work. Patsy and John decided to finance the entire project, which cost several thousand dollars. They were always generous in pledging.
Patsy was dynamic—to the point where she could be annoying. She absolutely could be. She was a take-charge person with very definite ideas. And she had this living angel. JonBenét was an actual angel. I don’t remember ever seeing any child more beautiful. Always dressed stunningly. I heard about the murder on NPR radio.
—Robert Elmore
At 10:00 A . M . on Friday, December 27, Pam Griffin and her daughter, Kristine, a senior in high school, sat before a tape recorder in a small windowless room at police headquarters. Griffin told Larry Mason what she knew. She was the seamstress who made JonBenét’s pageant costumes and Patsy’s confidante about beauty pageants. Kristine was one of JonBenét’s runway teachers.
The police wanted to know if she’d ever seen any inappropriate behavior between the Ramseys and JonBenét—anything abusive. Griffin said she hadn’t. She had never even seen them discipline their children, she claimed. Pam told Mason that these were parents who didn’t demand respect from their kids—it was they who respected their children. That was the best way she could describe the relationship. And then there was all the love in JonBenét’s eyes when she spoke to her father. Everything he said was important to her, Griffin said. Mason then asked for information about child beauty pageants. JonBenét had won several, Griffin said. On the previous Sunday, December 22, she had performed at the Southwest Plaza as a pageant winner. Was JonBenét forced into the pageants, Mason wanted to know. Not that Griffin could see.
Then Kristine was interviewed. She gave much the same answers.
In 1995, four of us parents thought we could start a public elementary school that would work the way schools should. We wrote a 140-page proposal and got a lot of articles published in the local newspaper. We called it a focus school.
It took a marketing effort to convince parents to signtheir kids up for a school that didn’t have a building, didn’t have teachers, didn’t have physical materials to show. You have to remember that these kids are precious.
At one organizing meeting in someone’s home, a man sat back and listened, listened carefully, and asked a few questions. Then he said thank you and left. That’s how I met John Ramsey.
In the fall of 1995, High Peaks Elementary, our school, opened. Patsy enrolled Burke in the third grade. Hers was the first southern voice I’d heard in a long time—there aren’t many southerners in Boulder. She was very overdressed for our little city. Her hair was always done, and she always wore city outfits and hats. Of course I didn’t know then that she was recovering from chemotherapy and that her hair was still growing back.
High Peaks depended on volunteers for survival, and Patsy volunteered all the time. It wasn’t long before we got to know each other. Nothing stopped Patsy from doing what needed to be done. John wasn’t active at school. He traveled a great deal. He looked just like an ordinary guy. He could be in a room and never be noticed.
Around Valentine’s Day of 1996, my daughter, Megan, met JonBenét for the first time. They were both in preschool. I remember the first time I saw them
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