Better senses prevailed.

Jordan.

“Dying's too easy,” he said at his brother's house Friday where family gathered to talk about Edith Moore Jordan two days after the tenth anniversary of her murder. “I want him to think about what he did every day of his life.”

Phillip's feelings sum up a 10-year struggle following the death of Moore, who was better known as Edie Mae, and ran a popular bait and tackle shop bearing her name for 13 years before her death.

It has been a 10-year road fraught with reconciliation and recovery while never forgetting the memory of a loved one murdered by a known drug addict and frequent customer of the store on Highway 158.

The store and its proprietor were well known throughout the area, her son, Quintin Ryder Jr., said. It was one of the first places in the area to begin karaoke. It was a haven for bikers taking a break. Anglers knew the bait they needed would be at the store, even those fishing the Roanoke River during striper season, who would often go out of their way to buy what they needed there and then return to Weldon.

Even after 10 years, with a new owner and new name, the store is still referred to as Edie Mae's as Ryder learned while listening to the police scanner one day.

Another photo provided by the family.

On February 1, 2002, a 10-year journey that eventually led to healing and recovery began when Palacios walked in the store at 8:30 a.m. and killed Moore by stabbing her for $98.

“He was so messed up,” Quintin's wife, Glenda, said of Palacios, who law enforcement said at the time was so high they had to wait until the following day to interview him. “He asked for a pack of nabs.”

Palacios then pulled Jordan across the counter and stabbed her numerous times in the rib cage, leaving the store on a bicycle. “Mama crawled to the phone and called 911,” Quintin said.

Unconscious when help arrived, she was revived enough, “To say Santa Claus's grandson.”

That would be the clue that led to Palacios's arrest and an eventual plea to first-degree murder and armed robbery, which added an additional six to eight years to his life without parole sentence for murder.

“The reason he got what he got was the prosecution said there would be a 50-50 chance if there was a trial,” Quintin said, also explaining a trial would have subjected the family to gruesome photos and evidence. “He could have got an insanity plea. It was never guaranteed he would get death. I would have liked to have seen a needle in his arm.”

Palacios as he appears today.

Then things began to change.

“All the family went through a downward spiral,” Monica, one of Ryder's daughters, said.

Phillip and Quintin grew apart because without their mother there was no one to temper the tension between them. “She was the peacemaker,” Phillip said.

Quintin went through severe depression and despair.

“It went from being good to bad,” Glenda said. “I came close to leaving him. We were separated for 18 months.”

While Quintin declines to go into detail of the things that occurred during his depression, it involved jail time, and healing involved getting involved in church. “I'm not proud of what happened. I can say now I'm straight.”

An early family photo with Jordan, Rooke and Ryder.

For Glenda, there was a reckoning in the relationship she had with her mother-in-law, who was 64 when she was killed. “Me and Edie Mae never really got along. We had our ups and downs.”

Helping her mother-in-law pay her bills, however, brought them closer together and six months before the murder she acknowledged the help.

“Me and grandma were really close,” Beth Ryder, another daughter, said. “That's the day I will never forget. She's just not here and I spent so much time with her and we were so close. Every big thing in my life she has missed. I was so angry that if I hadn't been 12 I would have killed him myself.”

Through all of this the family has become closer. “It brought the girls closer together,” Quintin said. “There was always sibling rivalry between the youngest. They weren't getting along. They got real close.”

A tribute photo from Glenda's Facebook page.

Now Quintin and his brother are mending wounds. “Him and I got together Thanksgiving for the first time in 10 years,” Quintin said.

“We just started talking now and then,” Phillip said.

“It just happened,” Quintin replied.

Phillip's thoughts on crime and punishment have changed, too. “I have come to oppose the death penalty because dying is too easy.”