How Did He Die?

They asked. I answered. And the Secret Service escorted me out.

Condoleezza Rice was the first person to ask that day.

She was the first person my boys and I were escorted to during the brunch event for Gold Star family members.

I know a gold star sounds like some sort of award, or sought after recognition. And yet it is anything but; A Gold Star Family member has lost an immediate family member: son, daughter, spouse or sibling, in active duty military service. In our case it was my husband Lou, who was murdered in Iraq by the staff sergeant.

While every president routinely meets with Gold Star families who request a visit, President George W. Bush’s staff spent three years stalling my request.

At first it was: “We’re sorry but the president is not currently accepting visitors.” I got that email less than one week before a picture of GW, surrounded by smiling American Idol contestants in the oval office, was smeared across front pages, in the infancy of social media.

Then it was one “schedule delay” after another, all the while other Gold Star wives shared their pending visits in our chat room conversations. One day, I received a phone call from a restricted number. That was nothing new- I was in the midst of the 3 ½ year court martial process against my husband’s killer and routinely received calls or emails from one politician. attorney, media member, or someone who wanted to tell me about meeting Lou.

This call, though, was different.

“Ms. Allen,” whispered the voice. “I can’t talk long. But I work in the Pentagon, and want you to know that people are paying attention to what you’re doing. We are rooting for you. Don’t give up.” The caller gave me her name and a number to reach her privately. Then she ended the call. I never heard from her again. The number she provided went to voicemail with her voice. She never returned a call.

Another time I received a call from a man who stated he worked in the White House. Processing presidential visit requests, he said, was part of his job. And while requests from Gold Star families are normally placed in “Personal request” files, my request was in the “Political request” file. “They do not want you getting in to see the president,” he told me. This time the number I was given to call back worked. I spoke to him once more as I pursued my request. The second time I called, however, I was informed that he had been fired.

Those two calls baffled me. They didn’t make any sense and seemed like some sort of spy movie thing. The next call came about 2 ½ years into the process of me requesting this visit. There I was, navigating a grocery cart so packed people cracked comments about me being a prepper. They weren’t wrong, really. I was prepping. Just like I prepped every week, to feed four young boys and our four dogs for another 7 days. The ringing of my phone distracted me enough for the dude who’d been racing to beat me to the checkout to slide in ahead of me, smug smile on his face.

“Mrs. Allen,” another unfamiliar voice that somehow managed to sound exactly the same as every other “important” person calling to feed me some more bullshit said. “ This is so-and so from the White House and I am pleased to invite you and your children to meet the president.”

Well, finally, I thought even as I waited for the catch. I didn’t have to wait long.

“The president will meet you at 10 am tomorrow morning. OK, my mind scrambled to process- that’s not going to be easy to get the kids packed, piled into the van and to drive 5 hours to DC… I can find a hotel if I hurry… But even as I was figuring all that out, the man dropped his bomb…” In Green Bay, Wisconsin”

It was 4 pm in New York. This guy knew where I live. He had my file right there. He knew I could not make that happen. Still, he feigned regret and surprise, claiming he was sorry I couldn’t make it after having put so many requests in. As if I’d simply changed my mind.

I didn’t really want to meet the man who I believe lied about the Iraq war - among other things- and did so knowing American lives would be lost. At least, not unless I could have a meaningful conversation with him. But I did want him to have to look my four boys in the eye, knowing his lie sent their dad off to be killed. And I was curious to see if he would have anything to say about the capital court martial still in motion.

So I did not give up. And then, shortly after the man who murdered my husband smiled at me as he was acquitted, I received a formal invitation to a White House Brunch for Gold Star Families.

I was able to add Lou’s parents and one more- his sister- to the invite list. After all the defeats over the past 3 ½ years, all the emotional crashes I’d been through, this felt like a victory. Even as I packed the boys’ suits, drove to DC, and we all froze our faces off walking from our drop-off to White House security, I mentally reminded myself that today was not about me. It was about my kids having the photo to remind them that they once stood toe-to-toe with a president. That they stood there representing their dad, and the president had to acknowledge that for just one moment.

I vowed to myself not to speak my mind, knowing they would not care and it was not the time or place.

And I almost succeeded in keeping that promise. ….

Part 2 tomorrow…. Condoleeza Rice was the first stop in the guided tour. My youngest- I called him Menace for a reason - refused to surrender the potato chips he’d pounced on. The sight of all four boys, little Lou’s in their suits and sharp haircuts, melted me. I did my best to return Condoleeza’s bright red lipstick smile. And then, leaning right over the top of my kids’ heads, she asked, “How did your husband die?”…