Sons push for Connie's Law
By RICHARD LIEBSON
[email protected]
THE JOURNAL NEWS
(Original publication: July 31, 2005)
WHITE PLAINS — They are strong, they said, and will go on with their lives because that's what their slain mom would have wanted. And as they move forward, the sons of Concetta Russo-Carriero vowed, they will do everything in their power to give meaning to her death.
"We are single-minded in that we want to see a positive result come from this tragedy," Jonathan Russo said a month after his mother was fatally stabbed in the garage adjoining the Galleria mall. "We want to be able to tell her grandchildren someday that she may have saved a life by keeping a Level 3 sex offender away from an innocent person."
Jonathan, 28, and his brother, Michael Russo, 23, said they will lobby for the adoption of a state civil-commitment law that would allow violent sexual predators to be confined in mental hospitals after their release from prison. The brothers said their mother might still be alive today if such a law had been on the books.
Phillip Grant, a registered Level 3 — or high risk — sex offender who spent 23 years in prison on multiple rape and assault convictions, was arrested a short time after the slaying and has been charged with second-degree murder as a hate crime. Grant told police he was fighting a race war and killed Russo-Carriero because she was white.
"That was her worst nightmare," said John Carriero, who married Connie in 1992 after the two met at an informal gathering of widows and widowers. "She was afraid of crime, of something like that happening. She wouldn't watch murder movies or anything like that because they frightened her."
"Knowing that fear she had is probably the hardest thing," Michael said. "How terrified she must have been. We try not to dwell on it."
Instead, they remember a woman who loved to laugh, cook, travel and be with her family. The reminders are everywhere in her comfortable, tastefully furnished home. John Carriero showed a visitor rooms filled with flowers, family photos and American folk art she'd collected in their travels.
"She loved decorating and was constantly rearranging the pictures and little knickknacks," he said.
Jonathan said that after their father, John Russo, died of a heart attack in 1989, "our mother raised us with the idea that life is short and that you have to be strong and live each day to its fullest."
"She was outgoing and bubbly," Michael said. "She would laugh at things others wouldn't even think were funny. Everyone loves their mom, and everyone thinks their mom is the greatest mom ever, but she really was. She was just a really, really special person.
"When she first started dating John (Carriero), we were against it and rebelled against it, but he was such a great guy that we warmed up to him. Mom made us see that their getting married would be good for her and for us. It wasn't easy for her, but that's how she was. She wanted to make sure we were comfortable with it."
It was Carriero who first learned of his wife's fate. He got a call from her parents, Ted and Anne Granata, who had heard a news report about a slaying near the mall.
"They seemed anxious," he recalled, his voice growing soft. "I knew Connie parked there, but I didn't make the connection right away. I was standing outside, waiting for her to come home, when an unmarked car came driving down the street, very slowly, and stopped in front of our driveway. When two detectives got out and started walking toward me, that's when it hit me. And I just fell apart."
Nina Russo, Jonathan's wife, said the tragedy really hit her the next morning, when she spotted her husband standing in the driveway of their home in Peekskill, reading a newspaper story about his mother's death and seeing Phillip Grant's photograph for the first time.
"He turned around and showed it to me," she said. "He said, 'Look at the man who killed my mother.' It was horrible."
"He just looked like a monster to me," Jonathan said. "When I saw his picture, I knew how terrified my mom must have been."
In the days that followed, the brothers said they read every newspaper story and watched every television news report about the slaying.
"It's like you get obsessed with it," Jonathan said. "All of the details, about it being a hate crime, about the homeless issue — it all seemed inconsequential. Every day was like, 'what's next?' It was an absolutely horrible event to begin with; whatever else came out afterward couldn't be worse."
Michael said the family began receiving calls and visits from a number of public officials two days after his mother's death.
"They expressed their condolences, and a few of them mentioned the civil-confinement law," he said. "We didn't know anything about it but, over time, we saw it as an opportunity to make something positive come out of this."
The brothers and their stepfather testified last week at a hearing held by state Sen. Jeff Klein at Concordia College in Bronxville, announcing that they would push for the legislation to be adopted and to be dubbed "Connie's Law." The state Senate has passed the bill each of the past five years, while the Assembly has held it up in committee. All three plan to travel to Albany in the fall when, Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver said, additional hearings would be held.
"It always takes something like this to happen before (the government) does something right," Carriero said.
Asked how they found the courage to get involved in the legislative fight so soon after their personal tragedy, Jonathan said it comes from their mother.
"Her life was beautiful and positive, and her death was tragic," he said. "She taught us that you can't change things that happen; you just have to be strong and keep going. She left us with an unbelievably strong family and good futures. That's her legacy to us. Getting this law passed will be our legacy to her, because that's what she would have done. She would have pushed for it with all of her heart."
Sons push for Connie's Law
By RICHARD LIEBSON
[email protected]
THE JOURNAL NEWS
(Original publication: July 31, 2005)
WHITE PLAINS — They are strong, they said, and will go on with their lives because that's what their slain mom would have wanted. And as they move forward, the sons of Concetta Russo-Carriero vowed, they will do everything in their power to give meaning to her death.
"We are single-minded in that we want to see a positive result come from this tragedy," Jonathan Russo said a month after his mother was fatally stabbed in the garage adjoining the Galleria mall. "We want to be able to tell her grandchildren someday that she may have saved a life by keeping a Level 3 sex offender away from an innocent person."
Jonathan, 28, and his brother, Michael Russo, 23, said they will lobby for the adoption of a state civil-commitment law that would allow violent sexual predators to be confined in mental hospitals after their release from prison. The brothers said their mother might still be alive today if such a law had been on the books.
Phillip Grant, a registered Level 3 — or high risk — sex offender who spent 23 years in prison on multiple rape and assault convictions, was arrested a short time after the slaying and has been charged with second-degree murder as a hate crime. Grant told police he was fighting a race war and killed Russo-Carriero because she was white.
"That was her worst nightmare," said John Carriero, who married Connie in 1992 after the two met at an informal gathering of widows and widowers. "She was afraid of crime, of something like that happening. She wouldn't watch murder movies or anything like that because they frightened her."
"Knowing that fear she had is probably the hardest thing," Michael said. "How terrified she must have been. We try not to dwell on it."
Instead, they remember a woman who loved to laugh, cook, travel and be with her family. The reminders are everywhere in her comfortable, tastefully furnished home. John Carriero showed a visitor rooms filled with flowers, family photos and American folk art she'd collected in their travels.
"She loved decorating and was constantly rearranging the pictures and little knickknacks," he said.
Jonathan said that after their father, John Russo, died of a heart attack in 1989, "our mother raised us with the idea that life is short and that you have to be strong and live each day to its fullest."
"She was outgoing and bubbly," Michael said. "She would laugh at things others wouldn't even think were funny. Everyone loves their mom, and everyone thinks their mom is the greatest mom ever, but she really was. She was just a really, really special person.
"When she first started dating John (Carriero), we were against it and rebelled against it, but he was such a great guy that we warmed up to him. Mom made us see that their getting married would be good for her and for us. It wasn't easy for her, but that's how she was. She wanted to make sure we were comfortable with it."
It was Carriero who first learned of his wife's fate. He got a call from her parents, Ted and Anne Granata, who had heard a news report about a slaying near the mall.
"They seemed anxious," he recalled, his voice growing soft. "I knew Connie parked there, but I didn't make the connection right away. I was standing outside, waiting for her to come home, when an unmarked car came driving down the street, very slowly, and stopped in front of our driveway. When two detectives got out and started walking toward me, that's when it hit me. And I just fell apart."
Nina Russo, Jonathan's wife, said the tragedy really hit her the next morning, when she spotted her husband standing in the driveway of their home in Peekskill, reading a newspaper story about his mother's death and seeing Phillip Grant's photograph for the first time.
"He turned around and showed it to me," she said. "He said, 'Look at the man who killed my mother.' It was horrible."
"He just looked like a monster to me," Jonathan said. "When I saw his picture, I knew how terrified my mom must have been."
In the days that followed, the brothers said they read every newspaper story and watched every television news report about the slaying.
"It's like you get obsessed with it," Jonathan said. "All of the details, about it being a hate crime, about the homeless issue — it all seemed inconsequential. Every day was like, 'what's next?' It was an absolutely horrible event to begin with; whatever else came out afterward couldn't be worse."
Michael said the family began receiving calls and visits from a number of public officials two days after his mother's death.
"They expressed their condolences, and a few of them mentioned the civil-confinement law," he said. "We didn't know anything about it but, over time, we saw it as an opportunity to make something positive come out of this."
The brothers and their stepfather testified last week at a hearing held by state Sen. Jeff Klein at Concordia College in Bronxville, announcing that they would push for the legislation to be adopted and to be dubbed "Connie's Law." The state Senate has passed the bill each of the past five years, while the Assembly has held it up in committee. All three plan to travel to Albany in the fall when, Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver said, additional hearings would be held.
"It always takes something like this to happen before (the government) does something right," Carriero said.
Asked how they found the courage to get involved in the legislative fight so soon after their personal tragedy, Jonathan said it comes from their mother.
"Her life was beautiful and positive, and her death was tragic," he said. "She taught us that you can't change things that happen; you just have to be strong and keep going. She left us with an unbelievably strong family and good futures. That's her legacy to us. Getting this law passed will be our legacy to her, because that's what she would have done. She would have pushed for it with all of her heart."
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