 Sunday, May 17 at Darden Towe Picnic Shelter
8:00 AM = 12:00 PM Inflatable Races for Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation (ALSF) for Childhood Cancer 🍋 Not Fast. Still Meaningful. We’re silly. Childhood cancer isn’t. We’re turning 55 the only way that makes sense to us — by running (and wobbling) in inflatable costumes at Darden Towe Park. Instead of a typical birthday party, we’re raising money for ALSF to support childhood cancer research — something that matters deeply to us. We’ll have the pavilion for the day — so please stop by for a few minutes or stay for the whole event. 🌟 Costumes provided 🌟 👉 Choose your character: • 🐨 koala • 🎈 air dancer • 🦥 sloth • 🦖 dinosaur • 🦄 unicorn • ☃️ snowman • 🎄 Christmas tree • 🦅 eagle • 🚧 traffic cone • 🎃 pumpkin • 🐻 bear • 🐄 cow • 🐷 piggy bank 👉 Choose your FUN: • 55 seconds • 55 meters • 55 feet • games • crafts • photo opportunities It’ll be ridiculous, joyful and beneficial! 💛 Race 💛 Cheer 💛 Donate 💛 Celebrate 📍 Darden Towe Park, Charlottesville (MAP) 📅 Sunday, May 17 ⏰ 8:00 AM – 12:00 PM* Stop by whenever you can for however long you can! 🔗 www.alexslemonade.org/2026/twins-run-55
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 “You don’t understand.” When I say that, please know: It’s not a criticism of you . . .it’s an admission by me. I’m too afraid to tell you every thought spiraling in my head. There are parts of my life where I document everything to the point that what I’m requesting is explicit. Keith’s case belongs in that category. There are relationships in my life where it’s been harder to be direct. Transparent. Clear about what I need and want. And there are projects in my life that are hybrids — so personal because I’ve invested countless unpaid hours away from my family to pursue creative ambitions. I either send too many long emails filtered by AI to remove all emotion (Keith’s case) or I send vulnerable and honest emails that explain my unfiltered motivations. I can’t win. It’s something my husband says to me a lot. He doesn't know what to say when I’m in distress. It’s always the wrong thing. That’s what my brain says to me when I’m spiraling: “Nothing I say will be right.” At some point, I realized the entire situation with Grafton could have been resolved in four emails. I ended up writing a separate piece documenting that — not because I enjoy reliving it, but because the disconnect between the simplicity of the request and the complexity that followed made me question myself constantly. So when I finally spoke on the phone with Grafton’s lawyer and he said I was being unclear or confusing, I flipped out. I raised my voice. He accused me of yelling, though I would argue I was still holding my true feelings back. After I got off the phone, I felt gaslighted. He made me genuinely question whether I had sent contradictory emails. So I reread them. Again. And again. And the truth was: my requests evolved because the circumstances evolved. My original request was larger. Once I realized the shipment itself had become the obstacle, I reduced my request to the smallest and most defensible version possible because I wanted this to end. All of this finally overflowed on Tuesday … exactly 10 weeks since the day I had to call my husband to tell him his brother was dead. I didn’t have AI strip out my emotions that day. For the first time in nearly two months, I wrote exactly what I was thinking and feeling. I wanted this to end today. I’d accept the most limited request of sentimental items, but I was not going to pay for shipment. “You operate differently than most people — more honest, more direct, more invested — and that is both why people value you and why you get hurt when others don’t meet that same standard.” -- a wise friend I am too much. I’m detailed. It’s too much. I’m emotional. It’s too much. I’m persistent. It’s too much. I’m passionate. It’s too much. I’m strong. It hurts. And maybe the hardest part is how often people try to separate me from the things I care about most. “Don’t take this personally.” “It’s not personal.” Andy said it on the phone during the Grafton situation. Someone else said it face-to-face during a conversation about the Charlottesville Ten Miler and what I kept referring to as my “legacy” with the race. I understand why people say those things. Institutions need boundaries. Organizations need governance. Lawyers need emotional distance. But some things are personal. Calling my husband to tell him his brother was dead was personal. Spending nearly two decades helping shape the visual identity of a race that became intertwined with my life in Charlottesville is personal. That doesn’t mean I think I own those things. It means I care about them deeply. Maybe that’s why Mabel from the movie "Hoppers" resonates so much with me. It doesn’t feel like a coincidence that I saw that movie with my twin sister immediately after the Charlottesville Ten Miler. At the time I didn’t know if we laughed so hard because it was legitimately hysterical or because we were desperate for a laugh. I watched "Hoppers" again this past weekend with my son. It is that funny, but it’s more than that. Mabel’s determination to save her nature preserve resonates with my need to preserve a part of Keith … and maybe with my need to leave a part of myself behind in the place I’ve called home for 22 years. Runleahruncville. It’s been my Facebook username for years. Running and Charlottesville have been intertwined with my identity since 2007 when I ran my first race in nearly 15 years. I became involved with the local running community when I found myself quietly complaining that race results weren’t posted quickly enough and registering for training programs wasn’t online. Those were problems I fixed by becoming involved. By volunteering. By becoming personally invested. When I noticed the SSL problem on the Ten Miler website, I immediately felt compelled to fix it. That is my nature. I see a problem and I want to help solve it, especially when it’s difficult. The irony of trying to secure the C10M website only to make my role with the race feel insecure is not lost on me. I don’t even know if that’s irony exactly, but it sucks. The only way I know how to solve a problem like this is to work through it. Literally. I’ve spent hours updating a presentation on my vision for improved branding and other ideas for the race. I never did the work for public accolades. I felt compelled to do it because if it mattered deeply to me, maybe my contributions could be useful to someone else too. When you dedicate nearly 20 years of your life to something, it’s hard not to think of it as part of your legacy. The key word is part. My work within the running community — logos, race branding, websites, emails, design work — isn’t my entire legacy. My children, my twin, my sister, my friends, my family … the impact I’ve had on them matters infinitely more. But it’s still hard not to smile when I see someone wearing a race shirt I designed. Especially when it’s my son.    The following is an illustrative reconstruction of how this matter could have been resolved promptly if Grafton had responded to Leah’s March 3 email by providing clear instructions and the required release documents. Email 1 is the verbatim email Leah sent; Emails 2–4 are not actual emails, but show the straightforward administrative exchange that could have avoided weeks of delay and escalation. EMAIL 1 (Verbatim Email Sent by Leah)
Date: Mar 3, 2026, at 8:24 AM Dear Tamra, Thank you for speaking with me regarding Keith Connor’s belongings. We understand that there are legal requirements governing the release of a deceased tenant’s property in Washington State, and we are actively working to obtain the appropriate documentation. To ensure we are proceeding correctly, I would appreciate clarification on a few points: Required Timeline: Under RCW 59.18.595 and related small estate procedures, is it your understanding that no release of property can occur until 40 days have passed from the date of death? If so, please confirm that timeline so we can plan accordingly. Emergency Contact on Lease: If Keith listed an emergency contact or other authorized person on his lease, are you able to either (a) provide that individual’s name and contact information, or (b) notify that person that next of kin has been identified and is attempting to coordinate retrieval of personal property and include our contact information (email, cell, address). Management Company Contact: Given that we are out of state and there is no will, we would appreciate speaking with a regional or corporate-level representative who has experience handling estate situations involving out-of-state next of kin. Would you please provide the appropriate contact information? We are primarily concerned with securing irreplaceable items such as photographs and personal documents and want to ensure we follow the correct legal process while minimizing unnecessary delay. Thank you for your assistance. We look forward to your guidance on next steps. If possible, please share this website with your residents so they can offer condolences or share memories or photos. agoodgroup.org/keithconnor.html Sincerely, Leah (on behalf of Fran) EMAIL 2 (how it should have been handled) Dear Leah, Thank you for your email, and, again, I am sorry for your family’s loss. For release of any sensitive/sentimental items (such as photographs), we will need the following documentation:
Sincerely, Tamra EMAIL 3 (how I would have responded) Dear Tamra, Attached are the signed Release of Property Form, Fran’s photo ID, Notarized Affidavit of Heirship, and Notarized Indemnification. Please send the preserved personal photographs, Polaroids, personal documents, and related sentimental items to the address provided. Thank you for helping us resolve this. Sincerely, Leah EMAIL 4 (how it could have ended) Dear Leah, Thank you. I confirm receipt of the signed Release of Property Form and supporting documentation. We have shipped the preserved personal items to your home address. Sincerely, Tamra May 1, 2026 Open Letter to Tamra Youngblut and Andy Zabel Regarding Resolution of BBB Complaint ID #24729011 I am writing publicly and plainly about what would resolve this complaint. Keith Connor died on February 23, 2026. More than two months later, our family still has not received his personal belongings, clear documentation of what was saved or discarded, or a complete explanation of how decisions were made about his property after his death. The resolution I am requesting is simple:
But I still managed to act calmly, deliberately, and in good faith. I provided documentation. I narrowed the request. I asked for sentimental items, not valuables. I asked for photographs, Polaroids, cameras, and family memories. I asked for confirmation of whether those items existed. I asked for a process. I asked for communication. For more than two months, the burden has been placed on our family to keep asking, keep documenting, keep clarifying, and keep proving that we are entitled to basic answers about Keith’s belongings. That is not acceptable. This complaint was never about money. It was about dignity, transparency, communication, and the handling of a deceased tenant’s personal property with basic humanity. To resolve this matter, mail the items shown in the photograph, include any cameras or photographic/digital media recovered from the apartment, document anything that was discarded, and acknowledge the harm caused by the delay, silence, and lack of clarity. That is what resolution looks like. Leah Connor on behalf of Fran Connor, Keith Connor’s sole surviving next-of-kin
May 5, 2026 at 9:02:41 AM EDT
Immediate Shipment Required — Final Summary and Resolution of BBB Complaint ID #24729011 I am writing again because this matter should already be over. As of today, May 5, 2026:
This is unacceptable. I have asked the same basic questions repeatedly since February: What was saved? What was discarded? Were Keith’s photographs, Polaroids/Instax images, cameras, memory cards, film, SD cards, and other digital or photographic materials recovered? What documentation exists? How can the items be shipped? Those questions should not have required two months of follow-up. I also want to be very clear about the fact that I narrowed the scope of our request again and again. We were not asking for valuables. We were asking for sentimental items: photographs, Polaroids, family memories, cameras, film, memory cards, SD cards, letters, documents, and personal memorabilia. I provided identification. I provided notarized documentation. I provided an affidavit of heirship. Fran provided a small estate affidavit. I asked for confirmation. I asked for a process. I asked for basic communication. On April 18, counsel stated that the documentation provided was sufficient to authorize release of Keith’s personal property. At that point, the sentimental items should have been boxed and shipped. Instead, there has been more back-and-forth, more delay, more unanswered questions, and more burden placed on our family. I am also deeply concerned by the internal disconnect between Grafton Place, Grandview Management, and counsel. Tamra repeatedly indicated that this matter was being handled through the legal team. On March 9, she stated that the legal team had advised that a court order and in-person appearance were required. On March 13, she stated that she had forwarded my limited request in anticipation of counsel. On March 29, she stated that “the lawyers” had asked for no response until reports were released. Yet when counsel eventually became involved, he appeared unfamiliar with the full history of the matter and stated that he had only recently become involved. That internal confusion is not our responsibility. It should not have been allowed to delay the return of Keith’s belongings. I have now even agreed to pay the estimated shipping cost, despite my belief that our family should not be charged anything after this prolonged failure of communication and process. I stated plainly on May 4: ship all items, including the cameras, do not inspect, open, power on, or remove anything from the cameras, and tell me how to pay the estimated $185.90 shipping cost. I still do not have payment instructions. This could be very simple. Ship everything immediately, at no cost to our family. That means:
I am asking for the simplest possible resolution: do the right thing and mail Keith’s belongings immediately, at no cost to us. This complaint has never been about money. It is about dignity, transparency, communication, and the handling of a deceased tenant’s personal property with basic humanity. The matter can be resolved now. Ship the items. Send the tracking number. Provide the written documentation. End this. Leah Connor on behalf of Fran Connor, Keith Connor’s sole surviving next-of-kin  Photo sent from Andy Zabel of Keith Connor's personal belongings At 1:50 a.m. EDT on Wednesday, April 29, Grafton Place’s lawyer sent the first and only photo I have received after more than two months of asking whether Keith’s sentimental belongings had been saved. Keith Connor died on Monday, February 23. Now this appears to be what will be released to us. Maybe. After everything that has happened, I do not trust that even this is certain. At 7:24:23 a.m. EDT that same morning, I sent Grafton Place’s lawyer a camera collage I had assembled.  Photo sent to Andy Zabel of cameras that were in Keith's apartment after his death It shows cameras I found in the Fire Marshal’s Report. I had spent hours going through more than 200 photos of Keith’s apartment. It wasn’t easy. The images of the scene, the home where Keith died, were unsettling and disturbing. I cropped out the parts that made me gasp, that made me cry. I was looking for clues. Looking for what might have been saved. Looking for what was probably lost. There were cameras in the apartment. There were photographs. There were personal items that mattered. Were memory cards recovered? Were family photos discarded? Were other irreplaceable items thrown away without documentation? I may never know. And after all of this, I am still waiting to learn what they expect us to pay to have the items shown in their photo shipped home. It has been more than two months since Keith died. Why is there still another delay? At this point, it would almost be comical if it were not so cruel. One of my oldest friends made me laugh out loud with her blunt summary: "It appears they think this is rocket science. Put stuff in a box. Mail it." But the word “comical” has another meaning in my family now. My twin sister, Malinda, is tormented by the last text she received from Keith. "Maybe I'll die a comical wheelchair death." He had texted her that the brakes on his wheelchair had broken and he didn’t know how to get a new one. "Hopefully the NP can help next week." My sister never found out if he got the help he needed. Her last text to him: "Be careful please 🙏" There was no reply.   I’ve been ignored — by my husband, by Tamra Youngblut at Grafton Place Apartments, and now by Andy Zabel at Houlihan Law, her legal representative. It feels like punishment. I keep trying to make it mean I deserve it. I never replied to the last text message Keith Connor sent me. “I leave tomorrow wish me luck” I didn’t wish him luck. I honestly don’t even know if I saw that message in real time. There are other texts he sent me—very disturbing ones—telling me to share an angry message with his brother, my husband. I can’t remember if I saw those in real time either. I know I saw them at some point and decided I couldn’t engage. I didn’t want to disobey my husband, who told me not to get involved with his brother. I didn’t want to get pulled into the drama of someone who was suffering from what appeared to be a psychotic break. I had done that before in 2017–2018 with a friend, and it didn’t end well. I remembered the late-night messages, the accusations, the feeling that every reply only pulled me deeper into a reality I could not fix. I’m trying to tell my husband how much I’ve been suffering. He tells me I’m bringing this on myself by pursuing the quest to retrieve Keith’s photographs. He wanted me to give up when Tamra Youngblut hung up on me. I am trying to tell my husband that I am Keith. I want a relationship with him that I cannot have, just like Keith. Closeness. Trust. Feeling supported. He says I want to be a victim, but I’m not. “Now that Keith’s dead, he’s a saint.” My identical twin sister responded to Keith’s final text message. She had the last word. I’m envious. I confess I have not had the bandwidth to ask my sister how she’s doing through all this. We have a unique relationship with a lot of baggage, and it’s been strained for the years she’s been living in my basement. My husband would tell me to be nice to my sister. I would tell him to be nice to his brother. An ongoing loop. Keith was not a saint. Keith was not the devil. He was complicated and complex, like most of us are. He had serious physical health issues. He had severe mental health struggles that were undisclosed to many in his life. He also had friends who heard about his suicidal ideations. Some people walked away because they couldn’t watch him destroy himself. Some people tried everything they could to help him. Some people had happy memories from years and years ago. Some stayed. Some stepped away. Some were pushed away. Keith worried about how he would be remembered. We probably all do, to some extent, but hearing Keith's friend say that to me last week brought me to tears. I’ve done so much trying to make sure Keith is not forgotten and that people have a space to share their photos and memories for others to find someday. I’ve been listening to Sinéad O’Connor’s song “Take Me to Church” on repeat for days now. “I've done so many bad things, it hurts” I’ve done things that hurt the people I love... the people who love me. I’ve done things that hurt myself, too. It’s a loop of regret and anger and grief. I noticed Keith’s profile picture changed to a default icon. “That’s not good,” I thought. I didn’t do anything. I got distracted with my own problems. I’ve screamed and cried to my husband, to a few friends, but mostly to my twin. I haven’t asked her how she’s doing yet. It feels like I’m failing her. I tell her I promise we can work on our relationship just as soon as we get closure with Grafton Place. I can’t deal with anything else difficult until that’s settled. I had a friend, Nicole Paul, who was murdered when I was in grad school. This was a year before I met my husband. I was having problems with some other guy that I was dumping on her via email. We had plans to get together that weekend, but we never saw each other. The last message I got from her: “Cheer up girlfriend. It’s the weekend!” At her memorial service, I think I was the first friend to get up and speak. I shared that story of her last email to me. Another friend shared a story about how they had a huge fight, a falling out. She regretted that was how things ended, but comforted herself by saying that our dead friend only got that angry with people she really cared about. Did I have closure with Nicole? I had that message from her. I had plans with her. I have a lot of relationships to repair. I need to start with my twin sister. I’ve been trying to spend more time with her after months of scheduling our comings and goings to avoid seeing each other. That sounds so awful to admit. We went to karaoke for the first time together last week. I sang “Mercy Street” by Peter Gabriel and my twin sang “Free to Decide” by the Cranberries. This morning, I asked my twin to go for a walk to get coffee before she leaves for a trip to Philadelphia. The forecast said rain. Instead, there was a beautiful, colorful sky.  The Process ... all of my writings since Keith's death.
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