Victim Statement to the Nevada County Superior CourtJune 6, 2003

My name is Amanda Wilcox. My husband and I appreciate this opportunity to make statements to the Court. Thus far, these proceedings have been about Mr. Thorpe and the state of his mind; now it is time to hear about our daughter, Laura.

As you may know, Laura worked as a receptionist at the Behavior Health Department during the summer of 2000 and since she was so able and well liked, she was told she would be welcomed to return anytime, which she did while home for Christmas vacation. On January 10, 2001, Laura was only nineteen years old, a sophomore at Haverford College, and just filling in for the receptionist who was home with a sick child. She would have worked at the clinic two more days, then never again.

It is a daunting task to describe Laura and do her justice. Laura had extraordinary capabilities; she was an outstanding student, graduating as high school valedictorian and was attending a highly regarded college. She was extremely organized, disciplined and motivated. Couple these traits with her positive energy, and she was a natural leader. Laura was actively involved in numerous clubs and activities, frequently spearheading many projects. She served on student council every year of middle school, high school, and college and was in the midst of her campaign for the Haverford College student body presidency at the time of her death. Laura had boundless energy; she lived life fully as she danced through her days, easily juggling academics, service work, piano, ballet, and exercise. Laura had a big circle of close friends and they spent hours at the Yuba River. They liked to take long hikes, play volleyball, go to movies, and always, there was lots of dancing. Laura touched and inspired everyone she met; her teachers adored her. She always reached out to those in need of support and she treated everyone with whom she had contact with respect and kindness, including the clients at Behavior Health.

I was in awe of Laura; her capability, discipline and energy amazed me. More importantly, her strong sense of compassion, respect, justice, and truth were beyond her years. Laura was beautiful, but her inner beauty was even greater. Laura was already living a life full of service, she wanted to make a positive difference in the world…she had unlimited possibilities and the brightest of prospects. All of this suddenly ended when she was needlessly shot four times by Scott Thorpe.

Now I hold on to my memories, I think of Laura as a toddler cuddled in my lap as I read her book after book. I remember Laura playing cards and trying so hard not to laugh if she drew the Old Maid. She would dress herself and her two younger brothers in tutus, and direct performances and skits. I watched with pride as she won the school spelling bee year after year. She and I would play duets together on the piano, and as she grew older, we would see the latest romantic comedy in the movie theaters. I miss the little things Laura did everyday; she always broke her graham crackers in half before eating them, she had this way of slapping her running shoes together before she put them on. And I can still imagine the sound of her cutting cucumbers in the kitchen as she made one of her healthy sandwiches. I remember once watching her as she stood in the glow of the

kitchen window eating fruit, her skin and profile were lovely, and her beauty took my breath away. Unfortunately, the terrible afternoon and evening of January 10th, 2001 are also etched in my memory, and I will never forget the sight of my daughter’s lifeless body in the funeral home.

Scott Thorpe, you, your family, and those who contributed to this tragedy need to understand the harm you have caused. What is most upsetting to me is how unfair this is to Laura. She was so good and so innocent.

As for me, my life revolved around my children. Now, I am a mother outliving her child. This loss still permeates every minute of every day. It has now been two and a half years since I last saw Laura. The aching sadness in my heart continues. I am weary of hurting; yet I am just beginning a lifetime of missing my daughter. I will always be a grieving parent. Every aspect of my life changed the instant you fired your gun. Along with the immediate pain, shock and numbness, I felt great despair. I lost control of my life; I lost the future I had envisioned. A world in which someone as good as Laura could be murdered no longer made sense, it was too unfair. I lost my positive, optimistic nature; I lost my faith in humanity. Time has softened this impact, but it will never be erased.

I resent what you have done to my family. I ache for my husband as I watch him grieve. Your act has placed a terrible burden on our sons. They know I am fragile, they know I worry about them constantly. Worst of all, our family has a gaping hole. How can we truly have a “family” trip or a “family” photograph without Laura? I can never have that warm feeling of everyone home, safe, all together. At times, I feel panic and fear; I don’t know where Laura is.

Laura hated guns, as do I. It seems to be the ultimate irony that she was killed by gunfire. I often wonder if she knew she was going to be shot. The Thorpe family has now had three generations of tragedy from gunfire, resulting in the deaths of five people, and it is time to break this cycle of violence. Your family, more than anyone, should know that firearms and mental illness are not a good combination. I challenge you to take a stand on this, and perhaps make a positive difference out of this senseless and preventable tragedy.

Like Laura, we have tried to live our lives in witness to our belief in nonviolence. This includes how we respond to this horrific act. What you did was terribly wrong. You must never be released as you could relapse and do more harm. However, our healing comes from within, not from the fate of our daughter’s murderer. My grief for Laura is very strong; yet, my love for my husband and sons is just as strong. I have not stopped loving Laura, if anything, I love her even more, and all this love is healing.

Two days after Laura’s death, I found a verse from Rent on her desk. She left us the following words of comfort:

I can’t control my destiny.I trust my soul.

My only goal is just – to be.There’s only now.There’s only here.

Give in to love or live in fear.No other path.No other way.

No day but today.