Enduring attention she never sought

Until her daughter disappeared, Sharon Rocha's presence in the media was limited to a photograph, smaller than a postage stamp, in a weekly ad for the mortgage company at which she worked.

She certainly had no thoughts of appearing on major networks and cable television shows to promote a book she never thought she'd have to write.

She never intended to venture from the dinners, the holidays, outings and daily banter with her longtime companion, Ron Grantski, and the rest of her family, to be followed and sometimes hounded by reporters and TV cameras.

There are thousands in Hollywood who crave that kind of fame. But for Rocha, it represents a pain that can never heal and the inescapable type of attention no parent would ever want.

She pleaded for the safe return of her pregnant daughter, Laci Peterson, after Laci disappeared Christmas Eve 2002.

She testified at the murder trial of her son-in-law, Scott Peterson, leading to his conviction in 2004.

She took the stand again during the penalty phase, and she looked him directly in the eyes for the last time in March, when Judge Alfred Delucchi sentenced him to death.

And now, she's promoting the book she wrote as a tribute to her daughter, "For Laci."

Yet instead of being therapeutic, the book tour has kept her pain at the surface, with each camera and interviewer reminding her that her life can never be the same.

"You go through life minding your own business (pause) family get-togethers (pause) our own little world," she said. "That's been absolutely blown to bits. I look at the things I used to stress so much over, and they're not a big deal anymore, by comparison. It is life-altering."

In the time since Laci's death, Rocha has endured the search for and discovery of the bodies of mother and fetus along San Francisco Bay. She sat through the six-month trial, literally wearing out her right index finger while taking notes.

"It's painful," she said, holding up the digit.

She's gone to Washington, D.C., where she pushed Congress to pass the Unborn Victims of Violence Act, which makes killing or injuring a fetus during commission of a federal crime a separate offense. President Bush signed it into law in 2004.

Now, with her book promotion commitments winding down, she longs for the life her family once enjoyed, knowing it always will be beyond her reach. She might discover a comfort zone of sorts at some point, she said. But she hasn't found it yet.

Normal, whatever that might become, won't even remotely resemble her normal before Laci and Conner died.

They were mother and daughter, best friends, and nothing — not even the admission or apology or explanation she'll never get from Scott Peterson — will ever change that.

Throughout the trial, she learned about a different son-in-law than the one she thought she knew.

"Truly, they are two different people," Rocha said. "What we learned about him in the courtroom was not at all anything I knew about him. The lies, the deceit, the conniving, the manipulation — that Scott Peterson murdered my son-in-law, along with my daughter and my grandson."

The trial behind her, the book on the shelves, Rocha hopes to return to a place beneath the media's radar. When she smiles, it's a flashback to the Sharon Rocha people knew before the ordeal began.

"Lately, we've seen that coming back," said Patty Amador, owner of Ambeck Mortgage in Modesto and Rocha's longtime friend and boss. "Then, you'll see a wave go over her — something that reminded her of Laci. I understand. She has a lot of things going."

Though Rocha hasn't worked since Laci disappeared, the job is there when she's ready to return, which Amador hopes will happen in February.

"She still has her office here, her pictures on her desk," Amador said. Yet even at work, it won't be the same.

With Rocha out on leave, Amador recently hired an extra loan officer whose photo replaced Rocha's in the ad that runs each Sunday in The Bee.

"I'm going to reconfigure the ad anyway, and I told her we'll put the picture back in when she returns," Amador said.

Back to work, back to the real estate section and out of the headlines.

Normal, but a sadly different normal than before.

Jeff Jardine's column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays in Local News. He can be reached at 578-2383 or jjardine@modbee.com.

This story was originally published January 22, 2006 at 7:55 AM with the headline "Enduring attention she never sought."