The Night That Silenced Wyoming

My name is Holly Marie Lang born on April 5, 1983, to Al and Debbie Lang in Alexandria, LA. They were a young couple trying to find their place in the world. Growing up for me was amazing. I do not recall anything but love from my parents. They did not ever fight or yell and me being the only child, I was never starved for affection or love. I was their life, and they were mine!! My dad worked for the oil field after he got out of the Air Force and eventually decided to join Immigration of Naturalization Service. The first attack, as I call it, came around 1993 when my dad sat me down to explain that a divorce was approaching. I remember being so confused because there were no signs insinuating anything of the sorts. The new puppy and promises of two of every holiday helped me catch my breath and lightened the blow.

Over the next few years, he made promises of weekend stays only to leave me sitting at the door packed and ready, but he would eventually call to cancel or call me in a few days to apologize. The workload was insane he would say, but I really believe it was the shame of his infidelity and not wanting to face his only daughter. He finally came around and those weekends became reality, full of awesome adventures and insanely great memories. See my dad was full of life and feared nothing! His job made it hard to get a lot of time together but the time we had was full of laughter and the occasional gator catching, hot air balloon riding, underwater lost city diving type of adventure that made him seem so close even when he was away.

The next attack did not come until around the summer of 1996 when he tells me him and my stepmother, Cheri Lang, had to move to Denver, CO to advance their careers. I remember that blow like it was yesterday, it knocked the breath out of me completely and I had to sit down. Again, he comforted me by explaining that I could come visit several times a year because he would be making enough to send me airplane tickets. They left a few weeks later and sent me a ticket to come visit them for Christmas 1996. I stayed for 9 days that again was filled with snow skiing and tubing down icy slopes. Our Christmas dinner was a Vietnamese Potluck, totally unconventional, but that was who my dad was to me, and I loved that about him. Denver for them was noticeably short lived, they transferred to Cheyenne, WY office shortly after my second visit in the summer of 1997. They bought the most beautiful land on the rolling plains where they could build a more permanent life as well as retirement one day. I could not wait to see what his hard work had accomplished, and that day would come in the Summer of 1998. I arrived at the airport on June 28th, 1998, and was greeted by a teary-eyed man and my stepmother. I realized that very moment that his eyes had a different look than the sparkle I was always used to, but he smiled through it. When we arrived at their rental house on 7th street, we discussed all the fun we were going to have in the coming week. We were going to Colorado Springs (Garden of The Gods), Devils Tower in Wyoming, Mount Rushmore on the 4th of July in South Dakota, and camping at Keyhole State Park in Crook County, WY. They also had a couple that came with us that brought motorcycles to ride so as you can imagine I was an incredibly happy teenager. It was an amazing and beautiful trip preparing me for the next attack that I have yet to figure out how I survived through it.

We headed home so Cheri could get ready to go on her trip to Switzerland on the 9th, she was also a Border Patrol Officer. My dad got home on the 7th of July from a long day at the office, I could tell he was tired. We had planned to go see the movie Armageddon before Cheri had to leave for her trip. Dad opted out of that promise when she left, we would go to a movie just the two of us. I was staying the whole summer, so we had plenty of time, or so I thought. Cheri and I left around 7ish, bought our tickets, and got settled in our seats right before the previews started. The door to the theater flew open right as the movie came on and there is my dad with papers in his hand screaming in her face words I cannot say in this story. He ran out just as fast as he had appeared, and Cheri ran out after him. She returned a few minutes later to inform me that she was going to talk with my dad and would return when the movie was over, mind you it is a 3.5-hour movie. She returned around 10:30 pm and proceeded to explain the papers were from a man she had been talking to while she drove me to the house on 7th street. She then informed me she was going to check on dad at the house they were building on Chevy Rd. I called my mom in Louisiana to tell her I would be leaving to come home way earlier than planned and a little of what happened. I sat there alone with all these thoughts and emotions that I never felt in my 15-year existence. I waited up a few hours and finally decided to try to get to sleep in hopes to end the day and hopefully start a better one when I wake. Little did I know this night would be the beginning of a war that would rage within me for the rest of my life. I was almost asleep when I heard the door open, I quickly got up and noticed my dad was in the bathroom with the door barely cracked open, I walked up slowly and told him I loved him and asked if he was ok. I noticed these deep scratches up and down both arms as he washed the blood away in the sink. He replied, “I’ll be in your room in a second baby to talk this out.” He struggled to get to where he could sit on the bed and looked at me with those pain stricken, watery eyes as I explained that I would be leaving early so they could deal with the issues at hand and that I had come back when they figured out life and what they wanted to do. He told me he understood and that he loved me more than I would ever know. It was around 1:30 am when Cheri showed up with two deputies that went into the master bedroom where my dad sat on the bed, they spoke with him briefly and left soon after. That is when the screaming and yelling started about her taking him from his home and his life in Louisiana to bring him there only to screw around on him. That continued for an hour or so and then the yelling became quiet talking. I had been laying on the couch unsettled with anxiety, so I did not go to sleep. It was around 3am when Cheri started yelling call 911, at this command I quickly jumped up, phone in hand, and was enroute to where my dad was talking to his wife about her infidelity. I heard a muffled gunshot and turned the corner to see my dad fall to the floor in a pool of blood. I could not believe what I was seeing, I ran to his side and started praying that by some miracle he was not gone. The life had literally left the room and the room was now spinning out control as I laid on him begging to wake up from this nightmare. The same two cops that came and talked to him prior to his death were the same two that came after his death only this time one looked a little excited about the incident and the other one looked as if he was going to be sick. I kept fighting as they attempted to pull me away from his body. I finally gave in and went in the living room where I see the couple from vacation. The woman Rhonda asked would I come with her and her husband while the police cleaned up the scene and I told her sure if I could see his body at the morgue before my flight home which my mom had gotten right after I called her about the death. They agreed and we left, I do not know where we were, but I think maybe the house they were building because it was just raw wood and no windows. She came in with some tea and a Tylenol she said would help me rest while I waited to catch my plane that would be leaving around 8am, it was around 5am at this point. The only thing I remember is getting up and being rushed after that back into the house where the blood was still splattered to grab my things. Looking back, I do not even think anyone came with me inside with me, still in a daze I grabbed what I could from my room and left whatever may have been in his room. As I was getting in the truck, I said yall promised me I could see my dad before I left but they then told me I would miss my flight so we would not be doing that. My flight, with layovers took all day, I arrived in Alexandria around 8pm where my mom, pastor and best friend awaited with a huge stuffed Elmo.

I remember thinking something was wrong because I never cried all I could do was scream in silence in a haze that I honestly believe was the Tylenol and tea given to me to sleep. I mean I was only 15 so drugs were not a part of my life at that time and after an all-day flight and three hours after arriving home all that numbness disappeared and was replaced with tears that fell like rain for weeks to come. From that point on I ran from the thought of that horrific night, the smell of gunpowder and blood, and the sight of my best friend and father on the floor with his brains blown all over a room. Such a light in this world, why throw it all away by your own hand with your only daughter 1000 miles from anyone she knew? These were the questions that played like a skipping record in my head for what seemed like eternity, followed by wet pillows and nightmares, only to wake up screaming every morning just to feel it all over again. I finally wrote to my stepmom asking why she did not take the gun when he was loading it only to receive a letter saying she had stepped into bathroom for Tylenol. She sent some money that I figured was what he willed to me, and she never checked on me again. His body was cremated immediately with no autopsy, I received a video of his funeral which lacked any of our family or friends that I know absolutely loved him.

Cheri came two years later to bury him in Toledo Bend for his birthday which was also Christmas day!! I never looked up at her as she poured his ashes into a river that once was a place of adventure and laughter ever since I could remember. Soon after my life became filled with nights of hallucinogens, glow sticks, and nights that ran into days into weeks. I never discriminated against narcotics I mixed and matched every combination possible for the next 18 years. I managed to graduate with full paid scholarship and attempted to finish a degree in criminal justice, but God had other things for me in mind when I was blessed with my children, 3 boys. The party stopped but the substance abuse continued through many more battles of life that I had not yet faced.

In 2016 I realized I had become highly addicted to opiates and finally said I am done I need help! Sobriety somehow kicked off 3 ½ years in and out of psychiatric hospitals due to me slowing down and remembering every little detail of July 8, 1998, as well as being diagnosed with Bi-polar disorder due to substance abuse. I will not go into every little thing because its damn near endless of the signs, clues, or whatever you call things that just make any normal person go MHMMMM! One major one was when he came home and was washing the deep cuts off his arms and proceeded to my room afterwards, he had a bullet proof vest on underneath his black long sleeve t-shirt so why kill yourself hours later, again with your only daughter there in the next room, knowing she would be alone after you left this earth?? Other things from the weeks before stuck out and it suddenly made more sense than ever and here it is too late for any action to be taken, hell that was cleared the same night. I became obsessed with finding truth and seeking a peace of mind because with obsessions came countless days and nights of padded rooms, Thorazine, medication, but more importantly I was missing my boys grow up and it was literally killing me from the inside out. I have finally found peace within and tore down the walls that I built to keep me away from the ones I knew I loved more than life itself and I THANK GOD I WASN’T TOO LATE THIS TIME! This horrific nightmare was the very thing that has made me the beautiful person I am today along with a very loving, strong, and amazing mother… So, I am grateful for my trauma, for walking through the hell the best way I knew how, and for being able to finally lay my TRUE CRIME STORY TO REST!

In Loving Memory of Albin Edward Lang a father, son, brother, and the coolest man that could light up any room only to leave behind the thing he loved the most: Just Living in the moment!!