Frank C. Girardot - Burned: Pyromania, Murder, and A Daughters Nightmare

BURNED

PYROMANIA, MURDER, AND A DAUGHTERS NIGHTMARE

FRANK C. GIRARDOT, JR

with LORI ORR KOVACH

WildBluePress.com

BURNED published by:

WILDBLUE PRESS

P.O. Box 102440

Denver, Colorado 80250

Publisher Disclaimer: Any opinions, statements of fact or fiction, descriptions, dialogue, and citations found in this book were provided by the author, and are solely those of the author. The publisher makes no claim as to their veracity or accuracy, and assumes no liability for the content.

Copyright 2018 by Frank C. Girardot Jr. and Lori Orr Kovach

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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ISBN 978-1-947290-57-0 Trade Paperback

ISBN 978-1-947290-56-3 eBook

Interior Formatting/Book Cover Design by Elijah Toten

www.totencreative.com

Table of Contents

(Frank C. Girardot Jr.)

(Lori Orr Kovach)

Dear Reader

Youll notice there are two distinct voices in this book.

Wrapped around a true-crime tale of depravity, deception and murder is the life story of Lori Orr Kovach, a daughter, sister and mother who grew up in a middle-class home in a middle-class neighborhood. In her own words, Lori struggles to understand often unexplainable events that occur in her life and how those events resulted in her taking the witness stand in a highly publicized death penalty case.

We felt that presenting Loris portion of the story as though it were a diary would help frame the psychological and physical distance that existed between Lori and her parentsespecially her father. Ultimately, Burned describes Loris life journey. At its climax, the two story lines come together.

Lori was not physically harmed by the Pillowcase Pyro nor hurt in any of the crimes described in the books central narrative, but she and her family were clearly victimized by a man authorities described as the most prolific arsonist of the 20th century.

Her story begins here.

Part I

JUNE 1998

I sat at my desk in my cubicle at the insurance company waiting. My stepmother, Wanda, called and told me the verdict was in; she sounded scared.

Times have changed so much. I didnt have a smart phone, internet or news readily at my fingertips. I had a little radio on my desk that I normally listened to music on, but that day, I tuned in to an AM news station. It was almost 4 p.m. and I knew the verdict was coming soon; I was sure the courthouse closed right at 5 p.m. I wasnt getting any work done; I was bent over my desk with my ear to the radio waiting for the verdict. I kept the volume low, so no one else would hear.

My boss, Susie Thompson, who was also a very good friend, knew about my dad and what I was waiting for. Finally, at almost 5 p.m., I heard a news reporter say the verdict was in.

Guilty of four murders

What?

This whole time I assumed my dad was on trial for arson. He only allowed me to attend two days of the trial and he picked the days. I was stunned. I put my head down on my desk and cried. My heart was so heavy. So many things went through my head. He will never walk me down the aisle, know my children or celebrate Fathers Day with me. I just lost my Dad, for the second time

That Friday afternoon, I got a call from my dads attorney. He asked my sister, mom and me to come down to his office on Saturday to prep for the sentencing phase of the trial beginning Monday.

Sentencing phase? I had never even heard of that. I certainly didnt know that it meant my dad was facing the death penalty. The thought was too much to handle. How many 23-year-old young ladies are asked to testify so their father wont get the death penalty?

I was still in shock over the verdict, but I went into I need to save him mode. I gathered pictures of my son and met with the attorneys. All three of us would be testifying as well as my grandma and grandpa. My dads life rested in our hands. What if I dont say the right thing or act the right way? What if I dont do enough and he dies? Is that my fault? Would I want to be there when they execute him? It was too overwhelming. I didnt even have a political opinion on the death penalty and I probably never will.

I sat on the bench in the cold, long hallway of the Los Angeles County courthouse waiting for them to call me to testify. My stomach was in knots and I made sure to locate the nearest bathroom. Shortly after, we saw the Michael Jackson family exiting the courtroom holding hands and crying. It was Jermaine Jackson, his mother, father and their entourage. I later found out that Jermaine Jacksons wife was murdered and the person responsible was just found guilty. I guess guilty verdicts were in the air that week.

The bailiff called my name. I stood up with my legs trembling and my stomach with more butterflies than anyone could imagine. I entered the courtroom. It was crowded. I didnt know anyone in the room, except my dad. I walked past the spectators and then up the middle of the room toward the judge. Thats when I spotted my dad off to the right. I looked at him. He stared at me. I expected a nod or an I love you or something. He just stared. I walked up the stairs and was sworn in. I looked out into the audience and felt like I was in a movie. It was like the world stood still for a moment. I felt like everyone could hear my heart beating, it was pounding so hard.

Then they put a picture of my 2-year-old son on a large screen. Someone asked if I would allow my son to visit my dad in jail and maintain a relationship. I said that I would; my dad had maintained his innocence all this time, why wouldnt I? I believed in his innocenceafter all, he was my dad.

After we testified, we didnt hear anything from anyone. Not the attorneys, not my dad, no one. Then, Wanda called.

The sentence was in and it was life in prison without the possibility of parole. The death penalty was off the table. Eight jurors voted for the death penalty and four voted no. It needed to be unanimous. The news brought mixed emotions. In a way, I was relieved he was not going to die, but devastated that he was going away to jail for the rest of his life.

That changed my life in so many ways. I couldnt wrap my mind around this concept. It would take yearseven decadesto grasp all of this. This is when things got real, and this is where my journey starts.

Chapter 1: Fire Season

Anyone who says there are no seasons in California hasnt been there.

In the Golden State, seasons are not things that rely on weather alone. The four seasons arent necessarily tied to celestial movements or planetary alignment, either. Like a traffic jam on a Sunday morning that seems to have been caused by nothing, California seasons just happen and, like the freeways, seasons have namesjust not spring, summer, winter or falllike a quartet of hippie children.

Just as they know the difference between the San Diego, Santa Monica and Hollywood freeways, nativesand longtime residents of Southern Californiaknow the difference between rainy season, hay fever season, June gloom and fire season.

The Southern California skylinedominated by a mountain range alternately called the Santa Monicas, the San Gabriels or the San Bernardinosholds the clues. Typically, those clues are the opposite of what one might think. When the air is cold and the Los Angeles or San Gabriel rivers thunder below their snow-capped sources carrying giant boulders and snapped tree trunks down steep mountainsides and into the vast cement canyons of the basin, its rainy season.