Much of Katie Owens’ living room is protected. A clear, plastic sheet covers the couch, obstructing dirt. Nearly a dozen pillows adorn the couch, making sitting nearly impossible and ensuring that if anybody falls, as Owens recently did, the sea of pillows will break the fall.

‘Omari, keep away from the microwave,’ Owens says to her 1-and-a-half-year-old great-grandson. ‘Come here. Come on.’ He complies, leaving the kitchen for the living room. ‘Thank you.’

The dinette set, old and wooden from the sight of the chair legs, is covered in a clean, golden cloth. Fake plastic flowers saturate the table in the middle, radiating color, contributing to a more heartening ambiance.

‘Omari, don’t lie on the steps,’ Owens says. Even this 68-year-old great-grandmother of four is a protection of sorts. ‘I don’t want you falling down, hurting yourself.’

The living room carpet keeps Omari Jr. safe, too. As he plays on the protected couch and falls to the protected floor, he bounces up, a cartoonish smile creasing his innocent face.

In the living room there is a chair, the lone piece of furniture uncovered, unprotected. It’s a single, red velour chair, and Owens is sitting in it, crying and remembering the life of her deceased granddaughter and the one incident from which she couldn’t offer her protection.

She sat in that same red chair the night of March 23 and morning of March 24. It was adjacent to where it is now, still uncovered and unprotected. Ever since the moment she heard from the police officer that her granddaughter, Chiarra Seals, 23, had gone missing and that Seals’ two children were left alone, she knew something was wrong.

‘Nuh-uh,’ Owens said. ‘My granddaughter never leaves those kids alone. You can tell me something else that’s happened. But I know that hasn’t happened.’

Soon the details emerged to Owens about the death of the granddaughter she raised and the abandonment of the great-grandchildren she now raises. Chiarra Seals’ body was found at 7 a.m. All that night, Owens sat in that red chair and prayed.

‘I asked the Lord to make sure she’s not out there long, and to make sure (Shaw)’s not out there long,’ Owens said. ‘He answered my prayers.’

Brian T. Shaw was a member of the Syracuse University cheerleading team and a brother in the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity when he was arrested March 23 in connection with the murder of Chiarra Seals. The last pretrial hearing takes place Friday at 2 p.m.

‘We’re trying to make this the best we can,’ Owens said. ‘But it doesn’t stop what we’ve had to deal with. It doesn’t change it. It didn’t change it by burying Chiarra. Stuff like that doesn’t go away.’

Almost six months now since the alleged murder, life has changed profoundly for Shaw, the victim’s family and especially Chiarra Seals’ two children, both of whom witnessed the alleged murder and neither of whom will truly get to know their mother.

In the first two pretrial hearings, the prosecution has focused on that night, asking the detectives involved in the case about how they slowly uncovered the events surrounding Chiarra Seals’ disappearance and death. The defense is arguing that Shaw’s Miranda rights were violated.

But between those arguments, another component is present. Detectives testified that Shaw showed no concern for his daughter – even calling her a financial burden. Shaw testified that he loved his daughter and repeatedly asked detectives about her well-being. He broke down crying during the pretrial hearing when describing their relationship.

Among the few family members who met Shaw, the former Sigma Phi Epsilon member didn’t come off as a murder suspect. Chiarra Seals’ 20-year-old cousin, Ayana Dotson, worked at Mr. Smoothie in Carousel Center when Shaw worked at the movie theater. The two spoke often before Dotson even knew Shaw had a child with her cousin.

Inside the courtroom, Dotson saw Shaw for the first time since the summer of 2002. He was cloaked in his olive jail suit, chained at the hands and ankles, a different look than what Dotson remembered.

‘His signature was always the wife-beater,’ Dotson said. ‘Even in winter, he always wore a tank top.’

That’s how she spotted him that summer day in 2002. She was downtown. The two spoke often at Carousel Center, and when they ran into each other, they greeted each other warmly. Dotson retells their ensuing conversation:

Dotson: Do you know Chiarra?

Shaw: ‘Why?’ Shaw says it annoyed. His tone immediately changes to one of distaste, Dotson says.

Dotson: She said you’re the father of her daughter, Essence.

Shaw: I’m not her father. We have to get a blood test.

‘I told Chiarra about it later,’ Dotson says, ‘and she said the blood tests had already been done. He was her father.’

Still, Dotson described Shaw as generally a nice guy.

‘When I found out they were looking for Brian, I didn’t understand why,’ Dotson said. ‘He’s just Essence’s father. I didn’t realize he was a suspect. He was the nicest guy.’

Few other family members even knew about Shaw, including Owens, and even fewer have had direct contact with him.

Like most in the family, Owens hasn’t shown up to any pretrial hearings. ‘He’s a murderer,’ Owens says when asked whether she wants to see Shaw. Her eyes grow intense and thin. She leans forward. ‘I have no desire to see him. He’s caused this family a lot of pain and suffering. What can you say to someone who’s killed your child? And then what can they say to you that will change the situation?’ Owens pauses, holding her gaze and shaking her head. ‘Nothing.’

Suddenly Omari Jr. (Chiarra’s, but not Shaw’s child) emerges. He has a roll of toilet paper and needs his nose wiped. Owens is there.

The closest Owens has come to seeing Shaw is in a photo in one of Chiarra’s old albums. It’s a picture of Shaw clad in a blue T-shirt and jeans. The sun is shining, and Shaw is playing with Essence on Marshall Street. The two smile for the camera as Shaw holds her upside down. Chiarra is in some of the pictures with Shaw, too, smiling and holding their child.

Dr. David Wolfe is a Ph.D. professor of psychology and psychiatry at the University of Western Ontario in London, Canada. He specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder in children.

Wolfe isn’t privy to the details of this specific case. He was told that a daughter witnessed the death of a mother at the hands of her father, and he summed up his thoughts: ‘It’s hard to imagine anything worse for a child to have to go through.’

‘An important thing is for the child to have a strong relationship with someone they trust in the family,’ Wolfe said. ‘If she feels security and safety, that’s important. A lot of kids will show signs of trauma — nightmares, wetting the bed again, lashing out. Those are all indications of emotional trauma and how the body deals with it.

‘Over time, the child will want to talk about it. It used to be thought that it’s important to have children talk about it early. But now we try to let any speaking to come out at the child’s choice. And it’s important to allow her to express herself. If she spontaneously says something, it’s important that you don’t say, ‘No, don’t talk about that.”

‘(A child) can get through something like this. It’ll always have some impact on them. But they can cope over time if they’re provided with a stable environment. It’s important they’re in a stable environment. When they’re moving from house to house and don’t have a home, that’s when trauma comes out.

‘If the girl’s getting help, that’s very important. And it’s not something she’ll do for a little while. It’s something that will have to be done over time.’

Owens is following that. Essence is in a private school and has a doctor she sees. Whenever she feels the urge, Essence talks about either that night or her general feelings toward Chiarra or Brian. The family allows her to speak freely.

Owens says Essence is just like her mother, both in looks and personality. Like Chiarra, Essence is a detail person, rattling off the colors of her relatives’ homes or carefully studying the scenery during a drive. It’s also a characteristic that causes her to retell details from that night.

‘Essence still talks about what happened to her mother,’ said Janet Phillips, one of Chiarra’s aunts. ‘She talks about her father negatively. She doesn’t like him. She knows her mother is dead. She knows her father killed her. She gives details.’

‘When it pops into her, we allow her to express herself,’ Owens said. ‘We don’t do a lot of commenting. Unless she talks about her mom, how she loves her, how she misses her, when she says she’s dead and in the ground. That’s when we just let her know her mom always loved her.’

Owens is a 68-year-old with short black hair and full body type who’s never been short on love. She has cared for people all her life. She works with the Syracuse Developmental Center, taking in the handicapped for weeks, months or years at a time. She’s also raised seven children and a grandchild, Chiarra.

Chiarra’s father (Owens’ son), Curtis, lives in Seattle now. He moved out there when Chiarra was still young, to start his music career, though he kept in touch with her. Responsibility for raising Chiarra ultimately fell to Owens, after Chiarra’s mother was found to be in an abusive relationship with a man.

Owens raised Chiarra from the time she was 3 years old.

Owens and her daughter, Michelle, are currently battling Chiarra’s mother, Mel, for custody of the children. If Owens wins the custody battle, she and Michelle will raise Essence and Omari Jr.

Michelle declined comment for this story.

‘Because I raised her, I know her ins and outs,’ Owens said of Chiarra. ‘I know what Chiarra likes, I know her temperament. And it’s my business to know my children. I need to know when they’re hurting and when they’re well.

‘You have to train yourself. This is what I like doing. I like caring for people. That’s why I’m so protective of Chiarra’s children, because that’s what she’d want. We’re not playing checkers here. These are lives. You have a responsibility to give these children the best lives they can have.

‘I’m confident we will get the children, not only because we are capable of taking care of the children, but because also they are happy with us.’

Owens met Shaw’s mother once. She came over soon after the incident, offering flowers, saying her son wanted to bring them.

‘He wanted to give some flowers?’ Owens said. ‘Can you imagine that? You’ve choked the daylights ouf ot my granddaughter and now you want to bring flowers?’

Along with Owens’ family, Shaw’s mother prayed in the living room. She called Owens soon after. It was the last time Owens spoke with her.

‘What can I say?’ Owens said. ‘It wouldn’t change the hurt I was feeling. I really don’t feel that it’s necessary for us to communicate. Essence is going through a hard time dealing with what she saw. We don’t want to keep Brian in her foresight.’

The family is even protecting Essence from knowing there’s a custody battle ongoing.

‘At this particular time, Essence needs so much special attention,’ Owens said. ‘She needs a stable place, stable environment, she sings in choir at church. She’ll soon be going into dance class. We want to keep her mind on big stuff, where she’s not missing her mom so much. Otherwise, you can go into yourself, go into a depression and never come out.

‘My baby boy, Shawn, his first son passed away in crib death,’ Owens says from the same red chair from which she prayed that night. ‘We handled it well. But with Chiarra, this was different. It felt like a big rock was just … sitting on me.’ Owens stops, brings her hand to her face and collects herself. In that red chair, Owens is unprotected and she begins crying.

‘If I haven’t overcome it,’ Owens says, ‘what about a 5-year-old?’

Soon Essence will return from school and one day might learn how to cope. In the meantime, all Owens can do is protect the children. Protect and pray.

Published on October 5, 2005 at 12:00 pm