Shattered: The True Story of a Mother's Love, a Husband's Betrayal, and a Cold-Blooded Texas Murder by Kathryn Casey Page A

“Everyone knew who we were.”
    A lot of the girls envied Pam. There were the after-the-game parties and all the excitement of watching David’s powerful performances on the football field. “I knew the quarterback and the cheerleaders,” says Pam. “It was fun, and I felt important to be his girlfriend. I was happy.”
    That fall, when Maureen and Ken Temple drove in for a game, Pam waited to meet them at David’s apartment. She had balloons, and they all laughed and seemed to get along well. Since her own family was going through a tough time, Pam found herself drawn to David’s parents. Maureen was matronly but fun, and David’s father was fatherly and kind. She began spending all the holidays at the Temples’, even Christmas. At Easter, Pam brought her sister, and they slept in the family room and colored eggs. The following July, she went along to New Braunfels, in the Texas Hill Country, for the Temples’ annual vacation. “David’s parents took me in, and I felt close to them,” she says. “His whole family really put David on a pedestal, but they were good people.”
    Looking back, it was as if David took over Pam’s life. He held her hand, looked into her eyes, and whispered in her ear. He was serious and solid, magnetic with a good sense of humor. “David was my first real relationship,” she says. “He was a football star, a really cool guy, and he was my first love.”
    Later, others would talk of the way they saw David control Pam, but she didn’t see it that way at the time. “I just felt loved,” she says.
    Pam sat with the Temple family at games, and no one ever mentioned David’s tumultuous high school career or the 1987 burglary arrest. While she saw some of the other football players giving each other shots, she never saw anyone giving one to David, and she never suspected that he was on steroids. To Pam, David Temple was an All-American boy, a small-town football hero. And he loved her.
    He didn’t have a car, and Pam often drove. When she wasn’t working, she and the other girlfriends traveled with the team, following the bus in their cars. By then, David appeared to have come to terms with his future. He didn’t talk of playing with the pros but of being a coach. “At a 1-AA school, you needed to get your degree,” says one of the other players. “There wasn’t an NFL contract waiting out there for you, so everyone knew if we stayed in the game, we’d be coaching.”
    On Thursdays, the Californian restaurant, where Pam worked, booked bands and served quarter beers in the lounge. Afterward, David and Pam went out. It was at those times, when he’d been drinking, that David’s other side emerged. Usually it wasn’t aimed at Pam, but anyone else who crossed him, and often the excuse was that he was protecting her. On one such night, Pam and her sister walked to the car a short distance ahead of David and a friend. Two college students approached them, and after Pam slipped into the driver’s seat, one of the guys kept her from closing the door, flirting with her. For his own protection, Pam knew he had to leave, fast. “I’m not kidding you. You need to back off, because my boyfriend’s coming,” she warned.
    It was too late. By the time she’d finished talking, David had picked up the young man and body-slammed him onto the hood of a parked car. Without comment, David and his friend got in Pam’s car. As Pam’s sister sobbed, Pam pulled away and drove off. “I knew better than to argue with David,” she says. “I was upset, but I didn’t say a word.”
    Remarkably, David immediately returned to his usual demeanor. “He was fine,” Pam says. “It was like he had taken care of business, and it was over.”
    At other times, usually when they’d both been drinking, they argued. “He’d become so angry, he’d punch walls. He once kicked my car door, and once he hit a mirror in a men’s room at a bar and shattered it,” says Pam. “Usually it was over