Crandon house where 6 people were murdered is demolished

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"I'd chase him with that bucket," Pitts said later, dust on hisface and hands. "He'd start screaming, 'Uncle Rick, don't get me.'"

This job was special, the hardest of Pitts' life.

At first light Saturday, the white, two-story house on N. HazeldellAve. came down, the house where six young people from Crandon weremurdered in October by an off-duty sheriff's deputy unable tocontrol a jealous rage.

Two clicks and Pitts brought the big bucket down, taking a gougefrom the roof on the outdoor stairway.

It was 5:15 a.m.

Section by section, the house was demolished with a logging truck,an excavator and a loader.

Old lumber crackled. Windows shattered. The chimney tumbled down.

By 5:41 a.m., the home was rubble, the debris eventually picked upand carted to a landfill in Michigan.

But this house won't be soon forgotten.

Bradley Schultz, 20, died here.

So did Jordanne Murray, 18; Katrina McCorkle, 18; LiAnna Thomas,18; Lindsey Stahl, 14; and Aaron Smith, 20. Charlie Neitzel, 21,was wounded, played dead and survived.

Parents of five of the six murder victims witnessed the demolition. Releasing old memories

Before the destruction began, four of the moms held hands andwalked to the scuffed front porch to blow out a candle of memory.

"I just said, 'Let's do it,' " said Lee Smith, Aaron Smith's mom."When we blew out the candle, I said, 'We probably should have saida wish.' We got our wish. The house is down."

"We're going to go forward, make a better memory on this piece ofground," she added. "It will be a good thing. There are still badmemories, but those will fade."

Jennifer Blank wore the Crandon High School softball team sweatshirt that belonged to her daughter Jordanne Murray, who lived inthe home that was broken up into three apartments.

Murray's father lived on the top floor and owned the house.

"She was proud of what she had," Blank said. "She worked threejobs, went to school and made it nice."

Blank said her daughter's most treasured possessions were a deepfryer and a new vacuum cleaner.

Early on Oct. 7, Murray's former boyfriend, Tyler Peterson, 20, adeputy with the Forest County Sheriff's Department and part-timeCrandon police officer, showed up at the apartment.

Peterson killed six young people gathered for a party, firing morethan 30 rounds from the AR-15 rifle issued to him by the Sheriff'sDepartment. Hours later, Peterson died after firing three shotsinto his head with a .40-caliber pistol.

"I've read the whole case, all but the autopsy report," Blank said."It doesn't make sense to me. I tried to piece things together. Idon't know what he was thinking. I don't understand. You question alot of things when something like this happens." Working for a memorial

Around here, piecing things together - bringing the communitytogether - meant taking the house down.

Victims' families and local business and religious leadersestablished the Fountain of Youth Memorial Fund and spearheaded adrive to raise $71,000 to purchase the home. People from localbusinesses opened their hearts and wallets.

They held $6 pancake breakfasts and hawked $3 brats.

They sold $10 T-shirts and $25 sweat shirts emblazoned with thenames of the victims and the phrase, "Crandon Angels."

And they created $7 charm bracelets with six birthstones.

Their aim wasn't just to destroy the home. If they had their way,they would have burned the place down.

Ultimately, they want to create a memorial on the plot that is ablock from the police station and across the street from the postoffice.

They still need to find a landscape architect willing to donateservices to plot the memorial. But they know what they want thememorial to contain - a six-sided stone gazebo, benches, a fountainand six granite markers inscribed with the hopes and dreams ofthose who will never grow old.

"You can't replace them, ever," said Dianne Schultz, mother ofBradley Schultz. "I don't think there is any healing for me. Will Igo on? Yes. One day at a time, step by step."

On Friday, Dianne Schultz briefly stepped into the home to spendjust a few moments in the place where her son was murdered.

"Just to imagine, in my mind, what happened," she said.

Later Friday, a few hundred people gathered by the house for acandlelight vigil. Rain poured down and thunder crackled. But then,the skies cleared.

There were speeches and songs, spiritual and beautiful.

"Make this ground pure again for our children," said Fred Ackley, amember of the Sokaogon Chippewa Community in Mole Lake, who led aperformance of American Indian song.

On Saturday, at first light, they took the first step towardsomething new.

They tore down that old house, left behind a plot of dirt and aplace to build.