A dear friend who was family to me died in my home. I couldn't stop talking about him. To everyone I saw. For days. Beginning with the 911 operator the coroner. It was weird. I had to let them know how special he was, and how much he meant to our family.
(He had battled heroin since the age of 15 but was an educated, cool, intelligent, punk rock, well read feminist who loved music and people and animals and had more integrity and honor and compassion than most on the planet. He died once again trying to get clean).
Sometimes i could hear myself talking about him to total strangers and I realized I may have sounded weird. But I wanted everyone to know how special he was. I remember the coroner, a lady, finally just turned to me and said, "I can see he wasn't a typical addict. He certainly was separated l. His room was so neat and organized. And he had more degrees than I do."
A similar thing happened with my sister in law. I did go on the news and talked about her because I wanted people to know her. I just didn't want them to die anonymously. I can't explain.
I bet the dad and step mom feel that so much stronger when it comes to their precious little girl. They don't want all that's know about her to be horror. They want people to know how important she was. Makes me want to cry.