This is Murder in the Rain, where each week Emily Rowney, Alicia Hollund and Josh McCullough

tell true crime stories of the Pacific Northwest.

Murder in the Rain contains graphic content, listener discretion is advised.

A few years ago, a childhood friend of mine was murdered by her boyfriend as she attempted

to escape from his abuse.

Instead of being able to leave peacefully to start a new life, he shot her, fled, called

his father, and then crashed his car before turning the gun on himself.

She had young twin daughters, her mother was, and continues to be overwhelmed with grief.

When I hugged her at the funeral, I couldn't believe she was able to stand, walk, or even

smile, but she did, which showed incredible strength.

What was even harder to believe was that this wasn't the first of her three children she

had lost.

Just a year and a half prior, her son had died.

On top of that, she, the mother, had recently remarried, and that man's son had died only

a few years before that.

So between the two parents, they had lost three children, an unimaginable amount of

loss and pain.

For some reason, it seems to happen that way sometimes, people that have been dealt a

nasty card continue to experience pain and tragedy over and over.

I feel guilty when I realize the only losses I've gone through have been, for the most

part, the expected ones, grandparents, a few friends, several suicides by acquaintances.

But I have friends and family members that seem to lose someone close to them every few

...