My name is Mallory Rambo and I ask you to support clemency for my dad, Robert Rambo. My dad is serving 43 years in prison for shooting the man that had just raped my mom. My dad has now been in prison for 15 years, has taken responsibility for his actions, and is very remorseful for the pain he caused. He is a model inmate, a great father, and now an excellent grandfather too. But because Virginia does not have parole, clemency from the Governor is the only way to recognize his rehabilitation. Please sign my petition to support my family’s request for clemency from the Governor.

My father’s incarceration has caused great stress and trauma to my family. Our ordeal began in July 2005, when my parents had a minor argument about my dad’s work schedule interfering with Fourth of July plans. My dad had been working long hours as a sales manager at a Kawasaki dealership and my mom wanted him home for a family picnic. My parents didn’t argue often, but when they did, one of them would usually leave for an hour or two to calm down. On that night, my mom went to my grandma’s while my dad took me and my brothers to eat and Putt Putt. After that, we came home and went to sleep.

While my mom was at grandma’s, my Uncle Joe showed up there with his friend Keith. My mom didn’t know this at the time, but Keith had been arrested recently for beating up his girlfriend and was out on bond. Joe pressured my mom to go out with him and Keith. The three of them drank together at a few bars. When they left the last bar, Joe passed out in Keith’s van. Keith told my mom he was taking her four hours away to Virginia Beach. My mom was scared and told Keith she needed to use the bathroom, and he pulled over in a deserted area. My mom got out and called my dad for help while she pretended to use the bathroom.

My dad immediately called the police. Over the next two hours, my dad met with the Lynchburg police at my grandma’s house and repeatedly called the neighboring police department. He repeatedly tried to call my mom and uncle with no answer. He drove around looking for my mom and became increasingly panicked.

Finally, after 4:00 A.M., my mom called my dad again. She was crying hysterically and told my dad that Keith had raped her. My mom told my dad that she was at a motel, and he raced there. At the motel, my distraught and panicked father had a brief confrontation with Keith. My dad shot Keith and then raced my mom to the hospital, where he was arrested for homicide.

My mom was never treated like a rape victim. At the time, there wasn’t a lot of awareness about acquaintance rape. My mom was questioned for hours before being taken back to the hospital for a rape kit. My mom testified honestly before a grand jury, but later she was threatened with charges if she testified in my dad’s defense at trial. Afraid of having my brothers and I taken away, my mom ultimately decided that she could not risk testifying in my father’s defense.

At trial, my dad’s lawyer was very unprepared, and the jury never got to see or hear from my mom about what had happened to her. The jury also never heard that Keith had a documented history of violence towards women, including multiple prior charges. At the end of trial, my dad was convicted of second-degree murder, use of a firearm, and discharging a firearm in an occupied dwelling. My dad had no prior felony convictions, so his sentencing guidelines called for thirteen to twenty-two years. Instead, the jury—deprived of the most crucial information about my mom and about Keith—sentenced my dad to twice that time.

Later that year, my mom was unexpectedly diagnosed with terminal stomach and intestinal cancer. On March 28th, 2007, my mom passed away at only 40 years old. I was 14 years old and my younger brother was only 10. Without our parents daily presence, my brothers and I have worked hard to become the best citizens and people we can be. I am proud of myself and my brothers.

Over the last thirteen years, we have visited my dad as often as possible, and he has been an extremely important presence in our lives. My dad has guided us, supported us, and encouraged us from prison. He has also been a role model in prison, but it is time for him to come home. Please support his release by signing my petition. Your support would be greatly appreciated by my family. Thank You!

I have included the following letter I wrote to Governor Northam that was included with his petition, so you can see what kind of person my dad was prior to July 2005 and still is today.

Below is my letter of support for my dad: 

Dear Governor Northam:

I am writing to tell you about my father, Robert Rambo, and ask you to pardon him. I hope my letter will help you understand why my brothers, my son, and I need my father home.  

To me, family is “where life begins and love never ends." My family has always been my life, and I never believed anything could tear us apart. But in 2006, when I was 12 years old, my dad was convicted of killing the man who raped my mom, and my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She died a few months later, and my father has been in prison since.

Before these events, we had a stable, loving home. My parents loved each other deeply and it showed. My father worked hard to provide for us.  He worked full time and also owned a lawn care and snow removal business, while my mom stayed at home to take care of us.  Together, they taught me everything, except how to live my life without either of them.

My family did everything together. We took regular vacations, including to Disney World, where my mom bought souvenirs for all my teachers. My father loved cars, so we went to a lot of car shows. I never liked the shows as a kid, but now, I would give anything to be at a car show with both of my parents again.

My parents taught me to work hard, respect my teachers, and care about community. My parents were very involved in my school. On the first morning of school every year, my parents followed us around recording us. They came to classroom parties, attended field trips, and showed up to eat lunch sometimes. They even gave breakfast to our school bus driver. In the winter, my dad often got us to help him shovel our neighbors’ sidewalks and driveways. Everyone in our neighborhood loved him and my mom, and I remember us having pool parties, cookouts, and feeling welcome and loved.

I remember Friday, July 1, 2005. My parents got into an argument and my mom went to my grandma's. I was upset because my parents rarely argued, so my dad told me I could go with my mom if I wanted, but I did not. That is the biggest regret of my entire life.

That night, my dad took us to Subway and Putt-Putt. The next morning, I woke up to a real life nightmare. My mom had been raped and my dad was arrested for killing the man who raped her. I didn’t really understand the concept of rape, but I knew it meant something really bad. When I saw my mom, she couldn't even speak. She was crying and walking around like a zombie.Her skin was so pale; she didn't look like my mom anymore. I wanted to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay, but I was scared. I just wanted my dad there with us and I know my mom did too. For weeks, all I could think about was what would have happened if I had went with her that night. Could I have stopped her from going with my uncle and his friend? 

We worried every day about what would happen next. My Uncle Joe, who was there the night my mom was raped, moved out of our home. I was not allowed to sit through the whole trial, but being there took a big toll on me. My dad was the nicest man I knew. I never thought I would be sitting in a courtroom with my brothers and mom while he was on trial for murder. Every time we left court, there were news crews and people in our faces. The moment the judge read my dad’s sentence of 43 years, my heart sank.

After that, I could visit my dad only through glass at Lynchburg jail. My mom, who hadn't worked in many years, had to take care of my three brothers and me by herself. We lost our vehicles and our home. Friends told me they weren't allowed to come to my house anymore. My teachers were always pulling me aside asking if I wanted to talk. No, I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to tell anyone how I really felt. At that point, I hated myself for not going with my mom that night, for being ungrateful for everything I had before, and for not appreciating having both my parents in my life. 

In August 2006, we went to visit my dad for the first time in prison. It was my mom's birthday and she was so excited to hug my dad again. On the ride there, we got into a terrible car accident, and I was knocked unconscious. I woke up in the hospital, hooked up to machines. I looked up and saw my mom crying. I needed stitches and my back hurt so badly I could barely move. My grandparents picked us up and took us to the prison, which allowed us to see my dad. The first time seeing my dad in prison, I was cut up and my shirt was bloody. My dad started crying as soon as he saw me. When we got home, my dad called numerous times to check on me. He felt so bad that he was not able to be there.

Just a few months later, in October 2006, my mom’s stomach looked swollen and she complained often about pain. In November, she told us she had stomach cancer and the doctor had given her up to a year to live. My heart was shattered andthere was nothing I could do. Every day, my mom got sicker. Churches brought us meals because my mom was not able to cook. She lost so much weight. I worried myself sick at school because I was scared I would go home and find she was not there. I never knew the right things to say to my mom at this time.

Christmas 2006 was terrible. It was the first Christmas after my dad’s trial and I knew it would be my last Christmas with my mom. Every day I prayed the doctors were wrong and my mom's cancer would go away. When my mom was dying, they brought my dad to visit her in the hospital. He was in handcuffs and shackles. They talked alone for a while. As I looked at my parents that day, I realized that's what true love was. My dad would have given his life that day if it meant he could have saved my mom's. 

March 27, 2007, my mom stopped breathing twice but came back both times. They called an ambulance but my mom criedand told them she didn't want to leave. If she was going to die,she wanted to die at home. The ambulance left, and the hospice nurse followed shortly after. I remember my grandma yelling at me and my brothers to go to our rooms while this occurred. I went to my room and prayed my mom would make it. After everything calmed down, I was allowed to tell my mom goodnight. I gave her a hug and kiss. I told her I loved her andwould see her in the morning. I went to my room and lay there crying until I finally fell asleep. My brother Jon woke me up around 4:00 A.M. crying. He said, “She's not breathing.” I went into the living room where my mom's lifeless body laid. He was right. When my mom took her last breath, a part of me left too.

I was 14 when my mom died. Nick, my youngest brother, was only 10. I lost so much in those two years that I have never been the same. My family was broken up. First, Nick and I lived with my aunt. I got a job at 15 because I had to pay my aunt to live with her. My aunt never wanted to take us to see my father. Eventually my aunt sent us to live with my granddad in Williamsburg, where Jon was living. When school started, I was shy and anxious because of losing my parents. We didn’t do well, so my aunt regained custody of us. When I turned 16, Jon helped me get a job with him at Taco Bell. I went to school and worked all the time, and my aunt and I continued to butt heads. My aunt threatened to send us to foster care, but when Jon turned 18, he took custody of Nick and me. We lived in a smalltwo-bedroom apartment with Jon, his then-girlfriend, her son, Nick, and me. I stayed in the living room. Jonathan took us to see my dad as often as possible. My parents had raised us to be there for each other, and we were.

Growing up without my parents has been hard. When I was 18, I got pregnant with my son, Rylan, who is the greatest thing to have ever happened to me. In April 2014, my son and I were in a car crash. My door was jammed and Rylan was screaming. I climbed over the seat and got him, and seconds later, my car burst into fire. I was shocked. All of my brothers came to the hospital, but I had no way to let my dad know what happened. My dad saw the story on the news and called us immediately. I was so happy to hear his voice, but it was so scary to go through this without him physically present.

Over the years, I have had a lot of repetitive health issues. In 2014, I was diagnosed with a chronic, incurable kidney disease, and in 2015, I had an emergency appendectomy. Without my parents, and with my brothers always having to work, I have never had anyone who could stay around to help me after my surgeries.

Raising a child alone through all of this has been very difficult. Rylan’s father is absent, addicted to drugs, and does not call him, but my father does. Rylan talks to my father on the phone. Rylan calls him “paw paw” and has pictures of him hanging in his room. I invite Rylan’s other grandparents to his birthday parties, but they don’t come. My father is one of the most important men in Rylan’s life, and it's a shame he can't be there for Rylan like he wants to be. I thank God everyday my dad is at least able to call and email me. We talk two or three times a week, and I bring Rylan to visit him every few months. We talk about parenting, our jobs, and our daily lives. My dad is the only person I go to for advice. He gives me advice about finances, how to fix things, work issues, parenting, and stress. He is always supportive and never gets mad at me.

If I didn't have my dad’s support over the last 12 years, I don't know what I would have done. Even in prison, he has always been a shoulder to lean on. I pray all the time for something to happen so my dad can be back with us. More than anything, I want my dad home. I want my son to have a grandparent. I want my heart to be full again. I hear others talking about weddings and events with their parents, and it hurts deeply. Neither of my parents saw me graduate high school or give birth to my son. I didn’t have a normal childhood because of the loss of my parents. I had to grow up too fast.

Over the last 12 years, my personality has changed. I used to be lighthearted, happy-go-lucky, and filled with jokes. After everything I’ve been through, however, my heart feels empty. My son has helped with that, but I still feel like a piece of me ismissing because of the loss of my parents. Everyday I wake up dreading and wondering if I am prepared for future losses. Many days I wake up wondering how different my and Rylan’s lives would be if my parents were still here. Since my mom died, I've also lost numerous family members, including my grandmothers, my aunt, my cousin,& my grandpa. My mom, her sister, and her mom all died from cancer. Throughout all of this, my dad has never stopped calling or writing me. He is my biggest supporter and I'm his as well.

My dad always told me to “be strong no matter what.” I watched my mom fight for her life and she never gave up. Until the day she died, she made sure we were taken care of and loved. At first, when my dad told me to be strong, I thought to myself, how could I be strong when I'm losing everything? Now I've realized, I HAVE to be strong. I have my son watching me.

My dad is a great person who had to choose between protecting his wife and losing his freedom or risk his wife being even more harmed or possibly even killed. I know my father did not want to kill Keith, but did what he thought he had to in that moment. I wish we could change what happened but none of us can. My brothers have worked hard to be good people despite what we have been through, and we have made it through this together. I look up to all of them, and know my dad is proud of them and my mom is in Heaven smiling down. I look up to my father too. Even in prison, he has worked hard to be successful, and to be a great parent and grandparent. He has risen above what he did and has dedicated himself to doing the best he can even in a terrible circumstance. He is an inspiration and hero to me, and I can only hope to one day be the same to my son. Please consider sending him home to us. He is more than welcome to live with my son and me and we will continue to love and support him.

 

​​Sincerely,

Mallory Rambo