Roxanna Green - As Good as She Imagined: The Redeeming Story of the Angel of Tucson, Christina-Taylor Green

AS GOOD
AS SHE
IMAGINED

THE REDEEMING STORY OF THE ANGEL OF TUCSON

CHRISTINA-TAYLOR GREEN

ROXANNA GREEN

WITH JERRY B. JENKINS

Copyright 2011 by Roxanna Green and Jenkins Entertainment, LLC

Published by Worthy Publishing, a division of Worthy Media, Inc., 134 Franklin Road, Suite 200, Brentwood, Tennessee 37027.

HELPING PEOPLE EXPERIENCE THE HEART OF GOD

eBook available at www.worthypublishing.com

Audio distributed through Oasis Audio; visit www.oasisaudio.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011941016

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

For foreign and subsidiary rights, contact Riggins International Rights Services, Inc.; www.rigginsrights.com

ISBN: 978-1-61795-012-4 (hardcover w/ jacket)

ISBN: 978-1-61795-086-5 (international trade paper)

Cover Design: Christopher Tobias

Front Cover Photo: Courtesy of the Green family

Back Cover Photo: 2010 Jon Wolf

Interior Design and Typesetting: Susan Browne Design

Printed in the United States of America

11 12 13 14 15 16 17 RRD 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To the memory of my mother
Yolanda M. Segalini (1935-2009)
And with thanks to my brothers
Paul and Gregory Segalini
for their love and support
R.G.

And with appreciation for
Kevin Leman
J.B.J.

Stories of horror are rarely set in idyllic Tucson, Arizona. That town, affectionately known by the locals as T-Town or the Old Pueblo, becamein one horrific fusillade from an automatic weapona metaphor for the worldwide battle between good and evil, leaving residents and visitors shaking their heads even a year later.

Tucson comprises just under 200 square miles of beautiful, arid land about 2,400 feet above sea level and is home to more than a million people. Its name comes from the old Uto-Aztecan and means spring at the base of the black hill, referring to a nearby volcanic mountain. Residents enjoy nearly 360-degree mountain views.

Lying just sixty miles north of Mexico, Tucson vibrates with a rich history of Hispanic and Latino influence, more than 35 percent of its population Mexican-American.

On Tucsons northwest side lies its oldest suburb, Casas Adobes, which arose in the late 1940s. The parking lot of a typical suburban grocery store there, the Safeway at La Toscana Village, appears the most unlikely setting for mass murder, a calamity that would rock a nation.

And for a nine-year-old girl, ironically born just hours before the atrocities of 9/11/01, to instantly come to represent all innocent children who suffer at the hands of corrupt, radical, or delusional adults... well, Tucsonand Americaare still reeling.

SEEK THE KINGDOM OF GOD ABOVE ALL ELSE, AND LIVE
RIGHTEOUSLY, AND HE WILL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED.
SO DONT WORRY ABOUT TOMORROW, FOR TOMORROW WILL BRING
ITS OWN WORRIES. TODAYS TROUBLE IS ENOUGH FOR TODAY.
MATTHEW 6:33-34 (NLT)

People forget that a state known for triple-digit dry heat can be mild and beautiful in the winter. At 7:25 a.m. on that fateful Saturday, January 8, 2011, Tucson, Arizona, dawns just above freezing.

YEA, THOUGH I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF
DEATH, I WILL FEAR NO EVIL; FOR YOU ARE WITH ME (PSALM 23:4A).

Ill never forget the phone call from Suzi Hilemans husband, Bill. It was 10:30 in the morning, Saturday, January 8, 2011.

Roxanna, listen, he said, his voice tight. I just got a call that Suzi and Christina are at the University Medical Center.

Suzi, a neighbor and friend, had taken my nine-year-old daughter, Christina-Taylor, to an outdoor event hosted by Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords.

What happened? I said. An accident?

I wasnt told anything, just that we need to get there.

The drive to the UMC would take me right past where Suzi and Christina-Taylor were to have seen the congresswoman.

I told my son, Dallas, Get your shoes on and grab a jacket, because we have to go to the hospital.

Whats going on, Mom?

Im not sure. Just pray everything will be okay, all right?

We dont wear it on our sleeves, but praying is a normal thing for our family. Dallas and I were both praying silently, hardly knowing what to ask for.

I called my husband, John, but had to leave a message; we had to get going. As I neared the Safeway in La Toscana Village Mall, I saw emergency vehicles, flashing lights, and barricades. I was going to have to go the back way.

I wound up on the south end of the strip mall and saw people wandering about and yellow police tape around the plaza. If Suzis little car had gotten caught in a major pileup, maybe it was a more serious accident than I thought.

Christina-Taylor and Suzi had to be okay though, right? Thats not my life; serious things dont happen to my family and friends.

I reached the hospital just before 11 a.m., but when I followed the signs to the emergency room, I found the entrance blocked off with police cars and ringed with camera crews and news trucks.

Suddenly I had a one-track mind. I needed to find a place to park so I could get in there and make sure Christina-Taylor was all right. I told myself everything would be all right once I reached her. I just wanted answers, to know my daughter was okay. I could deal with anything else, no matter how serious.

In the ER I went to a woman behind the counter and introduced myself. She said, Wait here just a minute.

I was a nurse, not to mention a mother who had been to the ER before. That was not typical. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she knew exactly who Christina-Taylor was and what had happened to my daughter.

I didnt want to hear, Wait a minute; I wanted to hear, Just one second.

When the woman returned, I couldnt get a thing out of her. She looked as if she would rather be anywhere but right there right then, and she led Dallas and me to the elevator and to a waiting room on the sixth floor. She asked if Dallas or I wanted anything to drink. I knew she was trying to be helpful, but something to drink was the last thing on my mind.

What I want, I said, is for you to tell me what has happened and what is going on with Christina-Taylor.

Im sorry, I cant, she said. But someone is going to come and talk to you.

I didnt like where this was headed, but I did not even allow myself to think the worst. I was hoping for the best and working to stay calm. I sat down, more convinced than ever that whatever this was, it was worse than I had originally thought. I envisioned debilitating injuries, maybe a long recovery time. We would handle it; that was the kind of family we were.