Family Finally Lays to Rest Slain Daughter : Funeral: After husband is convicted of murdering Vickie Eddington five years ago and burying her in their back yard, friends and family gather for an emotional memorial service.

In the mind of Elmer Vess, his daughter Vickie lives on as a child, be it a stressed-out 17-year-old hysterical over putting a dent in her dad’s ’65 Corvair or an energetic softball catcher whose jumpiness behind home plate gave umpires fits.

But age 17 is where it ends, for the most part.

That’s when Vickie Vess brought home a bashful, long-haired San Diego State University student named Leonard Eddington, who struggled through his shyness and announced that he wanted to marry Elmer Vess’ second-oldest child.

“I still see her as a young girl,” said Vess, who gathered Friday with relatives at Vickie’s burial and at a memorial service Saturday. “I try to stay away from the marriage part because that’s where the hurt comes in.”

Elmer Vess and his wife, Alice, sat through Leonard Eddington’s preliminary hearing, trial and conviction 10 days ago on murder charges. A Superior Court jury took less than a day to find that Eddington killed his wife of 12 years in July, 1987, then buried her body in the couple’s back yard in Jamul.

It is with great trepidation that Elmer Vess wades into talk of Vickie’s marriage to Leonard, because that brings up the Jamul home that they both helped build on 4 acres and which Leonard took in a divorce settlement after Vickie disappeared.

It brings to mind the Eddington’s three children, two of whom barely remember their mother, and the oldest who testified in Leonard’s defense during trial. It reminds Vess that Vickie was one-quarter of a point from obtaining her nursing degree, a lifelong ambition, when she vanished.

At Saturday’s memorial at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Jamul, about 200 relatives, friends, neighbors, co-workers and law enforcement officials gathered to say goodby.

Small framed personal photographs of Vickie lined the front of the church with bouquets of flowers in between. Boxes of tissues were passed during an emotional 75-minute ceremony interrupted frequently by tears. When it ended, family members placed a single red rose each in front of her picture before leaving.

Her older brother, Larry, gave the eulogy and introduced Vickie’s three sisters--Nancy, Donna and Cheryl--who in turn provided memories of their own. As each of the sisters spoke and began to cry, Larry gently caressed their shoulders for reassurance and support.

“She was born Sept. 20, 1957, in Grossmont Hospital. Elmer and Alice named their daughter Vickie Valerie Vess--three V’s for victory,” Larry Vess told a hushed crowd. “She was a beautiful baby girl who brought happiness into their lives.”

Vickie was an overachiever, excelling in both school and music, he said. At Sweetwater High School, she took up the clarinet and was so good she was given first chair in the band.

After marrying Leonard in May, 1975, she helped put her husband through college and tried to get a nursing degree of her own while raising their three children: Michael, now 15; Jay, 11 and Lydia, 9.

Snippets of Vickie’s life drifted through Saturday’s memorial. One time, she picked up a puppy by the side of the road, at her son’s insistence, taking it home and bathing it. She would chase Larry through the house when he snacked on her cookie dough. She learned to sail and would playfully tip the boat just enough to frighten one of her sisters.

“I looked forward to growing old and sitting down with her to talk about our past lives,” said Larry Vess, his voice cracking. “And now I can’t do that.”

Nancy Olson, born the year after Vickie, said she and her sister used to calm each other’s nerves over the telephone about the latest, seemingly horrific example of their children’s misbehavior.

“I’d get so mad at one of my kids and she’d say, ‘Look at those pretty little eyes. How could you ever want to hurt such a beautiful thing?’ ” Nancy said.

The tables were turned when Vickie’s younger son cut off his sister’s hair, leaving unsightly tufts on each side of her head and one on top.

“Tell me something good about my kid so I don’t kill him today,” Nancy recalled Vickie telling her.

“It’s only hair, it’ll grow back,” Nancy explained. But Vickie was so annoyed she shaved her son’s head to make a point.

The family buried Vickie on Friday, waiting until the trial was over to finally lay her to rest. The Vesses wanted it done in February, but were told that her body might have to be exhumed during the trial. Rather than risk the grief that would cause, the family waited.

On Friday, at the Glenn Abbey Memorial Park & Mortuary in Bonita, Elmer Vess, a high priest in the Mormon Church, dedicated her grave.

Vickie’s remains were draped with a homemade Afghan knitted by her sister Cheryl. Larry, who shared a special bond with Vickie, to whom he was closest in age, placed childhood items into the casket.

“We all said our goodbys,” Vess said before leaving the headstone that reads, “Vickie Valerie Vess.” The name Eddington is on a separate line in parentheses below her name, Elmer Vess made a point of saying in a recent interview.

The small army of relatives gathered in San Diego County following the Oct. 8 verdict. On Thursday night, while much of America was watching the presidential debates, the Vess family scanned videotaped television news reports of the trial. After the burial Friday, they watched some more.

Some family members, including Alice and Elmer Vess, were in the courtroom when a court reporter read the verdict. Finally, Elmer Vess said, he felt instant relief.

“We knew who did it and how it was done and we could now bury Vickie,” Vess said. “I honestly can say I don’t hate Leonard. I feel sorry for him because he did more damage to himself than anyone else could ever do. As for Vickie, she’s already in heaven and nobody can change that.”

Elmer Vess met Leonard Eddington 18 years ago and watched him grow from a timid young man who, every time he visited would grab the chair nearest the front door, to a military officer.

At first there was much for Vess to like.

They both served in the Navy, Vess as an engine man and Eddington as a maintenance officer who rose to the rank of lieutenant commander. During trial, Eddington wore his uniform and ribbons. After his conviction, his attorney said Eddington took the news “like an officer, you know, stiff upper lip.”

Even though Leonard was 26 and Vickie was 17 when they married, Vess believed Leonard would go far. Applying for a job with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Eddington was one of four in 500 who passed the test and one of only two offered a job. He turned the offer down to enlist.

The Eddington marriage wore down over the years and the Vesses disappointedly watched it crumble. Vickie and Leonard separated twice before their final split in 1985, getting back together each time with the births of their two youngest children. After the final separation, they took turns caring for the children.

In July, 1987, the day before her mother was to visit, Vickie disappeared. Her Volvo station wagon, with its tire flattened, was found abandoned 4 miles from home. Leonard said his estranged wife had left for her job as a nurse’s aide and never made it.

During trial, prosector Jeff Dusek said Vickie Eddington was most likely killed in her bed because her body was found wrapped in bedsheets, blanket and a pillow, with her skull caved in. She had been buried on the Eddington property, 8 feet deep, her body covered with a piece of chain-link fence fastened into the ground with stakes.

Three neighbors kept an eye on Eddington in the days after her disappearance and reported to the Vesses that they had seen Leonard atop a bulldozer three weeks after Vickie was reported missing. They called authorities, but the detective in charge of the case eventually dropped it for another investigation.

Elmer Vess, who lived in various locations in San Diego County from 1939 until 1981, when he moved to Idaho to escape “the fast life,” blames the Navy for not delving more deeply into the circumstances surrounding Vickie’s death. Naval officials have said they conducted an adequate investigation.

Months passed without a word about Vickie and in 1988, Elmer Vess had a dream, in which it was revealed that he would find his daughter if he joined the Mormon church and participate actively.

Vess joined the church that year, eventually attaining the position of High Priest, which allowed him to perform church ceremonies. Three years after he joined the church, Vickie was found buried on the Eddington property in Jamul.

Sheriff’s officials had reopened the case in 1991, after a Jamul feed store owner made an off-hand remark to a detective about how obvious it seemed that Eddington had killed his wife. After flying over Eddington’s home, law enforcement officers noticed that the ravine in back had been filled in unevenly.

Coupled with the neighbor’s comments about Eddington’s time on the bulldozer and the Vesses describing how Eddington had chased them out of the back yard in the days following her disappearance, authorities served a search warrant on the home in December, 1991.

Within hours, they had unearthed her remains and Eddington was arrested.

Now that Vickie has had a proper burial and memorial, Vess and his wife still have work to do. Vickie’s two youngest children are in the custody of Leonard’s new wife and the oldest child is being cared for by Leonard’s sister. The Vesses are fighting for custody.

They also want the divorce overturned so they can get Vickie’s share of the property sold and turned into a trust fund for the children.

During Saturday’s ceremony, none of the acrimony about the murder was brought up. In fact, Leonard’s name was only spoken a few times and never disparagingly.

Family members chose to focus on Vickie’s memory instead.

Cheryl Taylor, the youngest sister, remembered the time a dog tore into the family’s chickens that they kept in the back yard. Vickie insisted on bringing them into the house and cleaning them up, which outraged her father, who kept the chickens for slaughter, anyway.

Those assembled at the church on Saturday laughed when they heard the story.

“Life was important to Vickie,” Cheryl said. “Any life. No matter how small.”