Seventeen
Years…
Joyce M.
Hansen was taken far too soon. Seventeen years have passed since her husband
shot and pistol whipped her to death in their home in Brush Prairie,
Washington. Seventeen years since her son lost both his parents. I’ve heard so
many things about why her husband murdered her. From what I have heard, he’d
always been abusive and she’d finally had enough. She’d finally gotten the
courage to leave him.
 |
| Joyce before I knew her. |
I can remember those last days of the
school year and how excited Joyce was. She always looked forward to the Field
Day (we all did). It was the one day that the school was divided and forced to
play against one another. Blue vs. Red. If you had Joyce on your team
especially in volleyball, you were bound to win. She was so competitive and
excited. It was always fun to watch her play any sport as she was so athletic.
Whenever I would go to the office
after lunch, I served lunch more often than not, and I would watch her interact
with the students. Joyce was always so loved by the student. She was like a
second mom. In some cases, she was a third or forth mom.
It’s been seventeen years and I can
still remember that night. It was the night of March 17, 1996 around 9 p.m. My
grandmother called me and my sister into the living room. It was past bedtime
and Mrs. Morton, my sister’s seventh grade homeroom teacher, had been the one
to call.
Grandma sat us down and just told us.
At first we were confused because Joyce Hansen wasn’t the only Joyce we knew. We
had a neighbor with the same name. Once it had been clarified, it was so much
worse.
 |
| Her parking spot memorial. |
I think the
following day was the worst. So many of the students didn’t know yet and they
didn’t want to believe it when they found out. Who could blame them? To be a student and trying to learn anything
was pointless. I’m sure to be a teacher and trying to teach was pointless as
well. There was so much crying, not only from the student, but the teachers and
other staff members as well. Boys and girls alike were crying. Even the ‘tough’
guys were fighting a losing battle. Many of the students called home and had
their parents come to get them. Many of those who stayed sought counseling.
Others just tried to get through the day.
Over the following days and weeks
flowers, stuffed animals, cards, poetry, and more flowed from her desk and down
into the library. Even into her parking space.
 |
Some of what my fellow Pleasant Valley Alumni
had to say about Joyce soon after her death. |
Her memorial service was packed to
standing room only. 1500+ people, if I remember correctly, attended the service
held at nearby Prairie
High School. It was heart
wrenching as students, faculty, and parents gathered around her son and
remaining family members.
For me, and maybe many of us leaving
the school that year, it was difficult. For my entire four years, as I got to
know her, I couldn’t wait for Joyce to hand me my ‘diploma’ for completing
middle school. Don’t get me wrong, Pat was great, but it was an almost
bittersweet moment.
Over the last seventeen years I have
thought of Joyce fondly and often.
I wandered what became of her son. Does
he have the career he always wanted? Is he married with kids? A single dad? Would
Joyce be proud of him?
There isn’t a day that goes by when I curse
our judicial system. I get her husband—murderer—was 52 years old and a former
cop, but to give him 20 years was completely atrocious.
How is that justice?
Joyfully buoyant
and fun
Overly
protective of family and friends
Yearning
for freedom
Chances
that were never taken
 |
| Joyce as I knew her. |
Essential
to young minds blossoming
Managing
the office was a plus
Happy,
always happy
Average in
beauty she was not
Nagging
wasn’t something she did
Sensing
what young people wanted
Evolved so
much more than the rest of us
Never forgotten
How in the world could this have
happened to someone like Joyce? This is something that I have been asking
myself for seventeen years. How could Joyce be dead and at the hand of her own
husband? Why would he do that? How
could he do that?
I’m sure that there wasn’t just one
thing that caused him to do this, but it seems that because she was leaving him
was the main one. Holly Meyers (Sonners) just sent me some of the articles about her
death and they are ones that I hadn’t read before.
 |
| The inside of her memorial program. |
Did he love her so little that he had
to do this? Did he love so much that was why? Was it a case of if he can’t have her no one can? Did he
hate her so much? Did he love Mike, their son, so little hat he wanted him to
be without both of his parents?
There are so many unanswered questions
that I doubt there will ever be an answer to. The only person who can answer it
is Ron Hansen and I doubt he ever will.
