McAnnoying

With Kevin gone for a weekend of manly manliness in the remote forest, certain deals had to be made to ensure our survival back home. One such deal involved a helpful, good-listening Holden and the child's equivalent of Heaven on Earth: McDonald's.

Now, I've been known to partake in the occasional Micky D's meal, and enjoy it. But it's just not a place we go to often. For one, it's just not healthy (thank you Supersize Me). Second, the dining experience is, how shall we say.... lacking. Third, I find objectionable and questionable any place that has kids so excited about going, even when those kids have no idea what it is. Call it scary marketing, call it smart marketing. I call it brainwashing.

So, Holden earned dinner Sunday night at the Golden Arches. It didn't seem like a bad deal to me. I got out of cooking and clean-up, got to be the good guy and hoped that the indoor playground would provide some end-of-the-weekend distraction and burn off the last of his wiggles.

We didn't go to the closest outlets, since they didn't have the playground, but to one about 10 minutes away. (Yes, there are probably two or three that are closer). About a block away, Holden grabbed his crotch and announced with urgency: "I've got to peeeeeee!" As I coached him to hold on, I swung the car into a spot and, with lightening speed, unloaded Riley, the stroller, the diaper bag and Holden, ushered them into the restaurant and directed us with undeniable accuracy to the bathroom.

McGross. There was pee all over the toilet and in the bowl which, consequently, wouldn't flush. "Don't touch anything!" I repeated to Holden as he unleashed with a sigh. Now, this is a place that caters to kids - would it kill them to have a sink they can reach? I hoisted him on to the wet, germy, bacteria-filled cesspool of a counter so we could wash our hands. Then we got in line.

McWait. This is fast food? Fifteen minutes later, we had our tray and headed toward the table. Then I had to dash back to get straws, napkins and the very last ketchup packet in the restaurant.

McCrappy. We ate in the playground area. Holden could not have been more pleased with his ChickenNuggetsandFrenchFries (yes, one word, because you can't have one without the other). All around us were hordes of fat, noisy kids, shoveling in this "food" between trips to the play structure where they not so much as played, as pushed each other and screamed. The table was sticky, the trash cans were overflowing and I kept Riley in his stroller so he dare not touch anything!

McCrazy. After Holden horked down his ChickenNuggetsandFrenchFries, he took off his shoes to go play in the structure. Hahahaha. Yeah, this is Holden. "I'm too scared," he said, matter-of-fact. Despite talking all day about how he was going to play in the playground and slide on the slides. So instead, I cringed as I watched him shuffle about on that disgusting floor in his socks playing his with lame-o Happy Meal toy, all while Riley chucked the chicken nuggets from his tray and demanded French fry after French fry. At one point, he protectively clutched three in his fist against his chest while pointing to the bag on the table. What the hell is in this food?

McTired. McDonald's seemed to work it's magic on the kids. Riley, his belly extended full of saturated-fat soaked potatoes, fell asleep without a peep. Holden, adding his Happy Meal toy to his bedtime posse, was nearly in dream land even before we were done singing songs.

I sighed, happy to have made the kids happy after such a good weekend. I resisted the urge to shower the McGrime off me, and instead, ate a carrot.

Riley: One Year, Two Months

Remember all that about Riley, and how he was this real easy baby? Ha-ha-ha-ha. Yeah, forget about it. Because now, as weird as this is to say, he is SO HARD. I mean, that kid gets into EVERYTHING! I forgot that sensation of yearning for eyes in the back of my head just to keep him away from the danger and mess lurking behind every corner.
And the mess. My God, the mess. And to try and clean up a Riley mess while a Riley is within ear shot... "What? Is that the sound of the dishes and bowls I emptied from a drawer in the kitchen being put back? Not on my watch!" And then you here the fast tap-tap-tap-tap of his feet coming into the kitchen. His head leads his body and the drool flies as he toddles right on up to the drawer, wraps his pudgy fingers around the plate you just put in there, and then it's back on the floor with a satisfying WHACK!

There are plenty of other dangers that go with this whole, new walking thing he does. Currently, a scrambled-egg size bluish bruise lives on his forehead, a lovely reminder of the header he took at daycare last week into a little table. Every few minutes, when Riley is on the move, you hear a BONK or a THWACK, and you know that big ol' head of his has taken another beating.

It's, luckily, not all bad though. There is nothing better than putting a heavy baby down in a public place, and not having to worry about his hands and knees touching an icky surface. I know the convenience of this won't last, though, because it won't be long until he runs off once his feet touch the floor. For now, he just holds on to your pants leg and grunts to be picked back up.

With all this exciting walking and exploring to do, sleeping is apparently not a high priority for Riley anymore. Especially naps. I wouldn't even call what he's doing a cat nap it's so short. Their nap time is the only block of daylight free time we have, and we try to take advantage of it by doing chores or, more likely, I nap and Kevin watches TV, surfs the Internet, reads a magazine and plays a video game like the adept multi-tasker he is. But when Riley is up, none of this can happen. Every brightly-colored plastic toy he picks up gets thrown to the floor with a loud clatter and, if he sees you sitting still, that is merely an invitation to crawl over you.

There's no escaping, him either. Especially now that he can climb himself up on to the couch. I remember how hard it was to teach Holden the House Rules, likely "butts and knees only on the couch." How did we do that? It seems unfathomable that Riley will ever learn such things.

The funny thing is how funny all of this is to Riley. Like, as I wrote the end of that last sentence, I had to tell him to get his drool-covered hand off the TV. I remember Holden always wanted to touch that big, shiny object and now, it draws Riley to it with its mysterious power. But as I tell him, "No," he turns and looks at me, sticks the antenna of the remote for Holden's remote control car in his mouth, gags and laughs. How funny, Riley.

Holden The Builder

Holden: Three Years, Six Months

A little while ago, some friends with kids slightly older than Holden confided that Four is better than Three. While Three is filled with whining, melt-downs and a lack of reasoning, they said, Four brings better communication and a sense of self and independence. We remained cautiously optimistic, as “reasonable” and “independent” were not adjectives anywhere on our Holden radar screen.

But, as Holden sprints through time and is now closer to Four than Three, we have to admit there are some changes. For example, Holden is continuing to fine-tune and update his communication skills. Since he learned to talk, he hasn't stopped. Now, he adds more words to his sentences and usually speaks quite clearly (and loudly, but we won't get into that). What's best about this is the many Holdenisms that have evolved, that just make you smile everytime. He says, “Last time ago,” to describe something that happened – no matter if it was this morning or last week. Whenever there is a lot of something - minutes, houses, flowers – there are always “100” of them. From the get-go, Holden's had a soft spot for all things transportation, and would always let us know he saw one with a “Mommy, truck!” or “Daddy, plane!” from the backseat. He would keep repeating this find until acknowledged: “Yes, Holden, truck.”

But now, NOW, this observational process has evolved into a mind-numbing, blow-your-brains-out kind of philosophical conversation. Imagine, if you will, that it is 7:34 a.m. and not a drop of coffee has passed your lips. This is the conversation you are strong-armed into:

“What kind of bus is that? Are they going to pick up people? Where's the driver? I can't see him. City Bus has two steering wheels to drive the bus, to drive the City Bus.”

“No, honey, it only has one steering wheel.”

“Why? I saw twwwwwoooo steering wheels. There are two steering wheels. I saw the driver. Are they going to pick people up? I think Alex will be at daycare today.”

OK, so that last part about Alex may seem like a non-sequiter, but it's actually related in Holden's mind. Alex is a little boy at daycare who is autistic. He goes to a special school in the morning, then a bus drops him off mid-day. This is a big event for the pre-school set, seeing an actual School Bus drive up and, wait for it.... stop. Holden talks a lot about Alex anyway. At first, he talked about how Alex doesn't follow the rules. After being told how it takes a while to learn new rules, and how some people may take a little longer than others to do so, Holden decided a couple days later that Alex was like Eddie. Eddie is an autistic teenager who comes to daycare in the afternoon, also on a bus, when his school is over. Holden's teachers said they've never told the kids anything about Alex or Eddie's autism, but Holden seemed to put it together all on his own. We're all impressed.

Another recent change is our ability to actually reason with Holden, instead of just seeing him crumple into a teary mess for no reason. Holden's always been a great advocate. But lately, the bargaining process – while exhausting – has proved quite successful. This is a powerful tool as Holden starts to explore the limits of his independence. Torn between embracing it with gusto and running as fast as he can from anything Big Boy, we're able to use negotiation to get the job done, get him to participate in it and give him the confidence to do it again.

For example, our house is like any other house with young children in the morning when it comes to getting everyone dressed, fed and out the door – on time – on a daily basis. Some mornings, Holden, who is quite capable of many things, insists with a plaintive whine that we do it all – taking off jammies, putting on clothes, brushing teeth, etc. Then, we bargain. Management (us) demands that the union representative (him) take responsibility for the initial teeth brushing, the taking off of the jammies, the putting on of the underwear (clean), shorts and shoes, with a promise that we will help him complete the other, more difficult tasks of socks and shirt. This usually works. And because we've learned to capitalize on Holden's Helper Instinct, he usually gets a three-item list of tasks to do before we go: Return the part of the posse that is remaining at home to his bed (Dino and his blanket), take out a baggie for his breakfast (most days he gets pancakes and Kashi to go) and put on his shoes.

Luckily, life isn't always a battle with anymore, either. Holden has always been a fun kid, but he's become so much more interactive and easy to get along with when he's in a docile mood. Which means that he's not in one of his energy moods during which he runs full-speed from one room to the next, crashing his upper body into the couch, bouncing back and doing it again. Inside all that physical exertion is a thinker. He loves to play Old Maid and Go Fish! And even his regular toy play has become more in-depth with characters who have story lines and purposes.
As always, it's a push and pull process. We're pushing for Holden to do more for himself, branch out a bit and take a chance and, in his own ways, he's pushing away and taking testing his own confidence. Mornings at daycare were once about him clinging and crying. Now, we walk in, he tilts his face toward mine for a kiss and says, “I'm gonna go play, Mommy.” But the pull is there, and it is strong. We pull him back when he tries to take too much of a risk or when his doing it himself would be more bother than help; and he pulls himself back, fearing the unknown, failure and venturing too far from his comfort zone.

But whether we're pushing or pulling, we always end up in the same place. It's a place filled with cuddles, never-ending “I love you's,” and sweet boy kisses. It's a nice place, and it's so nice to be there, together.

Denise and a Murderer

Photo: Scott Varley/Daily Breeze

Yes, I do work. This was right before the verdict was announced. That's a Bible he's got with him. Didn't do him much good.

Ex-KFC worker guilty of Torrance murder

Jury in 1984 cold case finds William Marshall killed 21-year-old store manager during attempted robbery.
By Denise Nix
Staff Writer

A 46-year-old former Department of Forestry captain was unable to escape his past Friday as a jury found him guilty in the murder of a Torrance restaurant manager 23 years ago.

Robin Hoynes' three sisters and mother clutched their hands together, and someone whispered "Yes" as a court clerk announced that William Marshall was guilty.

Marshall showed no reaction to the verdict. He returns to court Oct. 26 for sentencing to a mandatory term of life in prison without the possibility of parole.

Simon Aval, Marshall's defense attorney, declined to comment.

The Torrance Superior Court jury deliberated about a day before finding Marshall guilty of first-degree murder, the special circumstance of killing during an attempted robbery and personally using a deadly weapon.

Marshall killed Hoynes, a 21-year-old Whittier resident, when he returned to the Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet, where he once worked, with robbery in mind.

While Marshall was always a suspect, he wasn't arrested until the cold case was reopened several years ago and he was indicted by a grand jury in 2006.

Outside court after the verdict, Hoynes' family and friends hugged and cried after their long wait for justice. They expressed gratitude to the Torrance police detectives and Deputy District Attorney John Lewin.

"A lot of people worked very hard for us to get the vindication we have today," Kim Hoynes, Hoynes' older sister, said as she wiped away tears.

Ethel Hoynes called the jurors "wonderful."

"It's been a long time coming," said the victim's mother. "We've waited 23 years for this."

Although the conviction doesn't ease the pain for family members, Lewin said it was worth the effort to see their reaction.

"I'm so happy to be a part of it," he said, adding that he appreciates District Attorney Steve Cooley's commitment to cold cases despite the legal obstacles.

"He did it, win or lose," Lewin added.

Some of the jurors who spoke briefly with reporters said they went over every piece of evidence.

What stuck out to them, they said, was the damning combination of a piece of shoe foam found at the crime scene and the revelation decades later by Marshall's ex-girlfriend that she had lied, and he had confessed.

Evidence presented during the trial showed that Marshall worked at the KFC as an assistant manager in Torrance for only a couple of weeks before he was terminated.

His boss at the time testified Marshall kept showing up late, had asked for cash advances and was a prime suspect in two thefts.

Much of the two-week trial focused on who had access to the outside doors and concrete-encased floor safe of the now-gone restaurant at 165 Palos Verdes Blvd.

The evidence showed Marshall no longer had keys to the restaurant and that the combination to the safe was changed after his termination - but he did not know it.

On Oct. 30, 1984, as Hoynes worked by herself after hours doing paperwork, Marshall came to the employee door and Hoynes let him in.

Scientific and circumstantial evidence proves what happened next, Lewin told the jury during closing arguments.

Hoynes knew Marshall was a suspected thief, so she likely dropped the day's cash receipts into the safe before letting him in - even though the store's policy was to take the money to the bank or home that night.

Marshall, thinking he knew the combination to the safe, stabbed Hoynes twice in the back. A medical examiner and a tool mark expert told the jury that she likely never saw it coming.

Then Marshall went to the safe. Two small specks of blood found on it were from Hoynes, and pry marks on the safe show he tried to break in after the combination he tried didn't work.

Marshall, unsuccessful in his attempt to get the cash, then slashed Hoynes' throat as she lay dead or dying.

He fled, but left behind a piece of evidence that would prove key when the cold case was reopened by Torrance detectives 20 years later: a piece of shoe foam.

The yellowish, spongy object perplexed investigators until it was linked two decades later to a pair of boots Marshall was wearing when he was arrested 10 days after the murder.

Two times after Hoynes' murder, Marshall was seen casing the Fountain Valley Kentucky Fried Chicken where he had worked before a transfer to the Torrance outlet.

Lewin had argued that Marshall's aborted attempts to rob the other KFC was evidence he perpetrated the crimes at the Torrance restaurant.

At the time, charges were not filed against Marshall, who went on to become a captain for the state Department of Forestry in Riverside. He has a family, including at least two young adult children who came to court on the first day of closing arguments.

When the case was reopened, newer science allowed for a fresh examination of some of the evidence.

But some things changed, too.

For one, Marshall's former girlfriend, Yvonne Williams, finally told police that Marshall confessed to stabbing a female restaurant manager in the days after the murder.

Williams also said an alibi she provided to detectives the day after the murder - that Marshall was home with her enjoying a spaghetti dinner - was a lie.