Trail of Terror: 25 Years After The Ronald Gene Simmons Murders Part 2
By: Lauren Trager, KARK 4 News
Updated: October 25, 2012
It's regarded as the worst mass murder of a family in US history, but the actions of Ronald Gene Simmons in 1987 had ripple effects far beyond eradicating his entire family.
We traveled with J.R. Kendrick on a trip he makes almost every month.
"That's it," he says, pointing to his mother's grave in Russellville.
It's the only place he can come to talk and ask advice.
"Most of the time just tell her I miss her and wish she was still here," said J.R.
At just 3 years old, J.R.'s mom was taken from him. Now he has just a few memories and descriptions shared by others.
"Most of what I hear is 'beautiful,'" said J.R.
Also a doting mother, fun-loving and smart, Kathy Kendrick was working as a law clerk at a Russellville firm in 1987.
For weeks, she'd refused the sexual advances of a man named Ronald Gene Simmons, a man much older and married.
But then, little more than a toddler, J.R. didn't know that.
He only remembers the news delivered by his family.
"Told me basically, I'd never see my mom again," said J.R.
His reaction: "I lay in the middle of that bed, crying for a good while."
Over the Christmas holiday, Simmons had slaughtered 14 of his family members.
Simmons' trail of terror continued on Dec. 28 1987, as Kathy Kendrick was the first to die during a shooting rampage in Russellville.
There were three more crime scenes, one more murdered and four others wounded before police apprehended the killer.
Anger and hatred are still just as present when J.R. thinks about his mother's murderer.
"Whenever you look back on it, it's just as horrible as when it happened," said J.R.
But for others, the pain has faded some, as the events of 1987 are whispered about less and less with each passing year.
"I just don't let it bother me anymore. It did for a long time," said Edward Shaddon.
Shaddon still lives just across the street where Simmons' home in Dover once stood.
It's still hard for him to think of the Simmons children, sullen and sad, working on what was more a compound than a home, forced even to dig the shallow pit that would become their grave.
"Them little old kids, they didn't ask for that," said Shaddon.
J.R. didn't either.
But his life, too, has moved forward. He was raised mostly by his grandmother and loved by many.
Soon, it will be Dec. 28 and J.R. will again make this trip. Missing a mom he barely knew, J.R. is a part of murder's lasting legacy. But like the community, he says he won't allow it to define him.
"Life has to go on, you don't have any choice," J.R. said.
We traveled with J.R. Kendrick on a trip he makes almost every month.
"That's it," he says, pointing to his mother's grave in Russellville.
It's the only place he can come to talk and ask advice.
"Most of the time just tell her I miss her and wish she was still here," said J.R.
At just 3 years old, J.R.'s mom was taken from him. Now he has just a few memories and descriptions shared by others.
"Most of what I hear is 'beautiful,'" said J.R.
Also a doting mother, fun-loving and smart, Kathy Kendrick was working as a law clerk at a Russellville firm in 1987.
For weeks, she'd refused the sexual advances of a man named Ronald Gene Simmons, a man much older and married.
But then, little more than a toddler, J.R. didn't know that.
He only remembers the news delivered by his family.
"Told me basically, I'd never see my mom again," said J.R.
His reaction: "I lay in the middle of that bed, crying for a good while."
Over the Christmas holiday, Simmons had slaughtered 14 of his family members.
Simmons' trail of terror continued on Dec. 28 1987, as Kathy Kendrick was the first to die during a shooting rampage in Russellville.
There were three more crime scenes, one more murdered and four others wounded before police apprehended the killer.
Anger and hatred are still just as present when J.R. thinks about his mother's murderer.
"Whenever you look back on it, it's just as horrible as when it happened," said J.R.
But for others, the pain has faded some, as the events of 1987 are whispered about less and less with each passing year.
"I just don't let it bother me anymore. It did for a long time," said Edward Shaddon.
Shaddon still lives just across the street where Simmons' home in Dover once stood.
It's still hard for him to think of the Simmons children, sullen and sad, working on what was more a compound than a home, forced even to dig the shallow pit that would become their grave.
"Them little old kids, they didn't ask for that," said Shaddon.
J.R. didn't either.
But his life, too, has moved forward. He was raised mostly by his grandmother and loved by many.
Soon, it will be Dec. 28 and J.R. will again make this trip. Missing a mom he barely knew, J.R. is a part of murder's lasting legacy. But like the community, he says he won't allow it to define him.
"Life has to go on, you don't have any choice," J.R. said.
