Anastasia Solovieva King

If only they hadn't given the matchmaking agency that photo of Anastasia looking so young and innocent.If only they hadn't believed the lies of that fast-talking American who wanted to make Anastasia his wife.

"We were so blind," says her mother, a black shawl of mourning wrapped around her shoulders."If I had trusted him less, I could have saved my daughter."

Anastasia King was a mail-order bride, one of the 4,000 to 6,000 women who come to America each year, marrying men they barely know.Many of them find economic security, and some even find love.

Anastasia found her way to a shallow grave.
...
Anastasia was their only child, and in her they invested the dreams they could not realize for themselves in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic where prosperity eludes all but a few.

The parents, both music teachers in Bishkek, tried to shield their family from worldly woes with what Alevtina calls "a wall of music."But they worried about how to pay for a good education for Anastasia, a diligent student.

When they heard that a relative had found an American husband through a mail-order bride service, they signed up Anastasia.Soon a photograph of their 18-year-old daughter - sitting on the floor, beaming with an astonishing smile - joined pictures of dozens of other women in a catalog.

Before long, letters started arriving.
...
Three months later, Anastasia flew to America for a visit.One month after that, on April 30, 1998, they went before a justice of the peace and were married.

The honeymoon soon ended.

Anastasia complained that her husband wanted to know where she was, every minute of the day.He wouldn't let her get a driver's license.They argued a lot.He said he wanted children; she said she wasn't ready.

He wasn't as well-off as he had led her to believe, and so they took in boarders at their home in Mountlake Terrace, a suburb of Seattle.Anastasia enrolled at the University of Washington and worked long hours as a waitress and restaurant hostess.
...
Anastasia was seeing other men and keeping a list of her husband's transgressions.He threatened to hurt her, forced her to have sex, and forbade her from going to a counselor, she wrote in a journal that she hid in a safe-deposit box.

Anastasia became depressed.One day, she showed up at work with bandages covering cuts on her wrists, said her boss, Patty Swaney.

In August 2000, Anastasia flew to Kyrgyzstan, her second visit home that summer.Shortly after she left, King filed for divorce, telling his attorney that he had no idea where his wife was.

...
By then, Anastasia was telling her parents she was determined to go back to America, get divorced, and apply for permanent residence, now that she'd been married the required two years to a US citizen.

The couple arrived at the Seattle airport on Sept. 22, 2000, and took a shuttle bus home.It was the last day Anastasia was seen alive.

...
According to testimony at the trial, King pinned Anastasia down while Larson strangled her with a necktie.

Anastasia King and Indle Gifford King Jr. in an October, 1998 photo.
...
Anastasia King and Indle Gifford King Jr. in an October, 1998 photo.

>

> >
...
If only they hadn't given the matchmaking agency that photo of Anastasia looking so fresh and innocent.If only they hadn't believed the lies of that fast-talking American who wanted to make Anastasia his wife.

"We were so blind," says her mother, a black shawl of mourning wrapped around her shoulders."If I had trusted him less, I could have saved my daughter."

Anastasia King was a mail-order bride, one of the 4,000 to 6,000 women who come to America each year, marrying men they barely know.Many of them find economic security, and some even find love.

Anastasia found her way to a shallow grave.

...
Anastasia had an astonishing smile, her parents say.

It was a smile that turned heads, sunshine that lit the bleakest day.

She was their only child, and in her they invested the dreams they could not realize for themselves in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic where prosperity eludes all but a few.

The parents, both music teachers in Bishkek, tried to shield their family from worldly woes with what Alevtina calls "a wall of music."But they worried about how to pay for a good education for Anastasia, a diligent student and gifted pianist.

When they heard that a relative had found an American husband through a mail-order bride service, they signed up Anastasia.Soon a photograph of their 18-year-old daughter -- sitting on the floor, beaming that astonishing smile -- joined the pictures of dozens of other women in a catalog.

A persistent correspondent

Before long, letters started arriving.
...
Three months after meeting Indle in Kyrgyzstan, Anastasia flew to America for a visit.
...
Anastasia complained that her husband wanted to know where she was, every minute of the day.He wouldn't let her get a driver's license.They argued a lot.He said he wanted children; she said she wasn't ready.

He wasn't as well-off as he'd led her to believe, and so they took in boarders at their home in Mountlake Terrace, a suburb of Seattle.Anastasia enrolled at the University of Washington and worked long hours as a waitress and restaurant hostess.
...
Anastasia read books about how to save a marriage, but nothing seemed to help.By the summer of 2000, two years into their marriage, "it was warfare," her mother says.

...
Anastasia was seeing other men and keeping a list of her husband's transgressions.He threatened to hurt her, forced her to have sex, and forbade her from going to a counselor, she wrote in a journal that she hid in a safe-deposit box.

Anastasia grew depressed.One day, she showed up at work with bandages covering cuts on her wrists, recalls her boss, Patty Swaney.

...
"It was a weak moment," Anastasia said."I won't do it again."

In August 2000, Anastasia flew to Kyrgyzstan, her second visit that summer to see her parents.Shortly after she left, Indle filed for divorce, telling his attorney that he had no idea where his wife was, even though he talked with Anastasia frequently by phone.

...
By this point, Anastasia was telling her parents she was determined to go back to America, get divorced and apply for permanent residence, now that she'd been married the required two years to a U.S.

citizen.

The couple arrived at the Seattle airport on Sept. 22, 2000, and took a shuttle bus to their home.It was the last day Anastasia was seen alive.

...
Larson said Indle lured Anastasia into the garage the night they returned, then grabbed her in a bear hug while Larson slipped a necktie around her neck.
...
But the jury not only convicted Indle King of first-degree murder, they fell in love with Anastasia.

On February 24, three days after handing down their verdict, all but two of the jurors joined Anastasia's parents at a graveside service.They held hands in a circle around the grave and prayed.

...
"In remembrance of Anastasia," it read, "who only wished to follow her dream."

Brought to America last year to help investigators, Anastasia's parents now are asking immigration officials to grant them a special humanitarian visa to stay here, saying they want to remain close to their daughter's grave.

Alevtina tries to focus on memories of better times, such as the days in September 2000, when Anastasia, finding strength among family in Kyrgyzstan, regained the bubbly confidence of her youth.She started flashing that astonishing smile again, and people turned to look when she walked by.

...
"Mama," Anastasia asked, "why do I feel so sad?"

Copyright 2002 The Associated Press.All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

>

If only they hadn't given the matchmaking agency that photo of Anastasia looking so fresh and innocent.If only they hadn't believed the lies of that fast-talking American who wanted to make Anastasia his wife.

"We were so blind," says her mother, a black shawl of mourning wrapped around her shoulders."If I had trusted him less, I could have saved my daughter."

Anastasia King was a mail-order bride, one of the 4,000 to 6,000 women who come to America each year, marrying men they barely know.

Many of them find economic security, and some even find love.

Anastasia found her way to a shallow grave.
...
Anastasia had an astonishing smile, her parents say.It was a smile that turned heads and lit up the bleakest day like sunshine.

She was their only child, and in her they invested the dreams they could not realize for themselves in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic where prosperity eludes all but a few.

The parents, both music teachers in Bishkek, tried to shield their family from worldly woes with what Alevtina calls "a wall of music."But they worried about how to pay for a good education for Anastasia, a diligent student and gifted pianist.

When they heard that a relative had found an American husband through a mail-order bride service, they signed up Anastasia.Soon a photograph of their 18-year-old daughter - sitting on the floor, beaming that astonishing smile - joined the pictures of dozens of other women in a catalog.

Before long, letters started arriving.
...
Three months after meeting Indle in Kyrgyzstan, Anastasia flew to America for a visit.
...
Anastasia complained that her husband wanted to know where she was, every minute of the day.He wouldn't let her get a driver's license.They argued a lot.He said he wanted children; she said she wasn't ready.

He wasn't as well-off as he'd led her to believe, and so they took in boarders at their home in Mountlake Terrace, a suburb of Seattle.Anastasia enrolled at the University of Washington and worked long hours as a waitress and restaurant hostess.
...
Anastasia read books about how to save a marriage, but nothing seemed to help.By the summer of 2000, two years into their marriage, "it was warfare," her mother says.

...
Anastasia was seeing other men and keeping a list of her husband's transgressions.He threatened to hurt her, forced her to have sex, and forbade her from going to a counselor, she wrote in a journal that she hid in a safe-deposit box.

Anastasia grew depressed.One day, she showed up at work with bandages covering cuts on her wrists, recalls her boss, Patty Swaney.

...
"It was a weak moment," Anastasia said."I won't do it again."

In August 2000, Anastasia flew to Kyrgyzstan, her second visit that summer to see her parents.Shortly after she left, Indle filed for divorce, telling his attorney that he had no idea where his wife was, even though he talked with Anastasia frequently by phone.

...
By this point, Anastasia was telling her parents she was determined to go back to America, get divorced and apply for permanent residence, now that she'd been married the required two years to a U.S. citizen.

The couple arrived at the Seattle airport on Sept. 22, 2000, and took a shuttle bus to their home.It was the last day Anastasia was ever seen alive.

...
Larson said Indle lured Anastasia into the garage the night they returned, then grabbed her in a bear hug while Larson slipped a necktie around her neck.
...
But the jury not only convicted Indle King of first-degree murder, they fell in love with Anastasia.

On Feb. 24, three days after handing down their verdict, all but two of the jurors joined Anastasia's parents at a graveside service.They held hands in a circle around the grave and prayed.
...
"In remembrance of Anastasia," it read, "who only wished to follow her dream."

Brought to America last year to help investigators, Anastasia's parents now are asking immigration officials to grant them a special humanitarian visa to stay here, saying they want to remain close to their daughter's grave.

Alevtina tries to focus on memories of better times, such as the days in September 2000, when Anastasia, finding strength among family in Kyrgyzstan, regained the bubbly confidence of her youth.She started flashing that astonishing smile again, and people turned to look when she walked by.

...
"Mama," Anastasia asked, "Why do I feel so sad?"

>

In opening statements, Coleen St. Clair of the Snohomish County prosecutor's office said evidence would show that King was already searching for a new mail-order bride when he came up with a complex scheme to explain the disappearance of his 20-year-old wife.One scheme included pinning her killing on a tenant in his Mountlake Terrace home, St. Clair said.

King, 40, on trial on a first-degree murder charge in Snohomish County Superior Court Judge George Bowden's courtroom, has denied any involvement in his wife's death.

She vanished after the couple visited her parents in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, part of the old Soviet Union, in September 2000.King initially told authorities he thought she had stayed in that country, but they were on the same return flight and U.S. Customs Service records showed both arrived at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport on Sept. 22, 2000.

Her body was found on the Tulalip Indian Reservation near Marysville about three months later by authorities acting on a tip.

The state's case has been complicated by the key prosecution witness, a former boarder at the King home who has offered at least three versions of the crime.

...
In a related development, prosecutors earlier this month charged King with offering $5,000 in cash plus $1,300 in bail money to get a fellow inmate to silence a witness for the trial.

Bowden dealt the prosecution a blow Tuesday when he ruled out the use of e-mail and other communications that were seized by Mountlake Terrace police detectives who searched King's home and confiscated three storage boxes full of documents and other items.

Prosecutors had planned to show the jury some of the communications between King and prospective mail-order brides shortly before and after his wife vanished.

Bowden ruled that a search warrant obtained by police specified computer records, and the e-mail the prosecutors wanted to introduce was found only in paper printouts and not in electronic form in the computer.

The Kings were married in 1998 after meeting through an overseas matchmaking service.Prosecutors contend King was a jealous and controlling husband who flew into a rage when his pretty blonde wife decided to leave him in the summer of 2000.

King filed for divorce that August, after Anastasia King began developing a life of her own-attending classes at the University of Washington, learning to drive and making friends while working as a waitress in Seattle.

King's first marriage, to a younger woman he met by placing a newspaper advertisement inviting a female Russian student to study in the United States, ended after she left him and said he was abusive.

Photo: courtesy of the Everett Herald

In opening statements, Coleen St. Clair of the Snohomish County prosecutor's office said evidence would show that King was already searching for a new mail-order bride when he came up with a complex scheme to explain the disappearance of his 20-year-old wife.One scheme included pinning her killing on a tenant in his Mountlake Terrace home, St. Clair said.

King, 40, on trial on a first-degree murder charge in Snohomish County Superior Court Judge George Bowden's courtroom, has denied any involvement in his wife's death.

She vanished after the couple visited her parents in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, part of the old Soviet Union, in September 2000.King initially told authorities he thought she had stayed in that country, but they were on the same return flight and U.S. Customs Service records showed both arrived at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport on Sept. 22, 2000.

Her body was found on the Tulalip Indian Reservation near Marysville about three months later by authorities acting on a tip.

The state's case has been complicated by the key prosecution witness, a former boarder at the King home who has offered at least three versions of the crime.

...
In a related development, prosecutors earlier this month charged King with offering $5,000 in cash plus $1,300 in bail money to get a fellow inmate to silence a witness for the trial.

Bowden dealt the prosecution a blow Tuesday when he ruled out the use of e-mail and other communications that were seized by Mountlake Terrace police detectives who searched King's home and confiscated three storage boxes full of documents and other items.

Prosecutors had planned to show the jury some of the communications between King and prospective mail-order brides shortly before and after his wife vanished.

Bowden ruled that a search warrant obtained by police specified computer records, and the e-mail the prosecutors wanted to introduce was found only in paper printouts and not in electronic form in the computer.

The Kings were married in 1998 after meeting through an overseas matchmaking service.Prosecutors contend King was a jealous and controlling husband who flew into a rage when his pretty blonde wife decided to leave him in the summer of 2000.

King filed for divorce that August, after Anastasia King began developing a life of her own - attending classes at the University of Washington, learning to drive and making friends while working as a waitress in Seattle.

King's first marriage, to a younger woman he met by placing a newspaper advertisement inviting a female Russian student to study in the United States, ended after she left him and said he was abusive.

Free Safety ItemFree Safety ItemFree Safety Item -->

Alliance For Education

King was convicted in February of murdering his wife, whose body was found in a sha

...
If only they hadn't given the matchmaking agency that photo of Anastasia looking so fresh and innocent.If only they hadn't believed the lies of that fast-talking American who wanted to make Anastasia his wife.

"We were so blind," says her mother, a black shawl of mourning wrapped around her shoulders."If I had trusted him less, I could have saved my daughter."

Anastasia King was a mail-order bride, one of the 4,000 to 6,000 women who come to America each year, marrying men they barely know.

Many of them find economic security, and some even find love.

...
Alevtina Solovieva, left, and Anatolyi Soloviev traveled from Kyrgyzstan to attend the funeral of their daughter, Anastasia King, in Seattle, in February 2001.
...
Anastasia found her way to a shallow grave.
...
Anastasia had an astonishing smile, her parents say.It was a smile that turned heads and lit up the bleakest day like sunshine.

She was their only child, and in her they invested the dreams they could not realize for themselves in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic where prosperity eludes all but a few.

The parents, both music teachers in Bishkek, tried to shield their family from worldly woes with what Alevtina calls "a wall of music."But they worried about how to pay for a good education for Anastasia, a diligent student and gifted pianist.

When they heard that a relative had found an American husband through a mail-order bride service, they signed up Anastasia.Soon a photograph of their 18-year-old daughter - sitting on the floor, beaming that astonishing smile - joined the pictures of dozens of other women in a catalog.

Before long, letters started arriving.
...
Three months after meeting Indle in Kyrgyzstan, Anastasia flew to America for a visit.
...
Anastasia complained that her husband wanted to know where she was, every minute of the day.He wouldn't let her get a driver's license.They argued a lot.He said he wanted children; she said she wasn't ready.

He wasn't as well-off as he'd led her to believe, and so they took in boarders at their home in Mountlake Terrace, a suburb of Seattle.Anastasia enrolled at the University of Washington and worked long hours as a waitress and restaurant hostess.
...
Anastasia read books about how to save a marriage, but nothing seemed to help.By the summer of 2000, two years into their marriage, "it was warfare," her mother says.

...
Anastasia was seeing other men and keeping a list of her husband's transgressions.He threatened to hurt her, forced her to have sex, and forbade her from going to a counselor, she wrote in a journal that she hid in a safe-deposit box.

Anastasia grew depressed.One day, she showed up at work with bandages covering cuts on her wrists, recalls her boss, Patty Swaney.

...
"It was a weak moment," Anastasia said."I won't do it again."

In August 2000, Anastasia flew to Kyrgyzstan, her second visit that summer to see her parents.Shortly after she left, Indle filed for divorce, telling his attorney that he had no idea where his wife was, even though he talked with Anastasia frequently by phone.

...
By this point, Anastasia was telling her parents she was determined to go back to America, get divorced and apply for permanent residence, now that she'd been married the required two years to a U.S. citizen.

The couple arrived at the Seattle airport on Sept. 22, 2000, and took a shuttle bus to their home.It was the last day Anastasia was ever seen alive.

...
Larson said Indle lured Anastasia into the garage the night they returned, then grabbed her in a bear hug while Larson slipped a necktie around her neck.
...
But the jury not only convicted Indle King of first-degree murder, they fell in love with Anastasia.

On Feb. 24, three days after handing down their verdict, all but two of the jurors joined Anastasia's parents at a graveside service.They held hands in a circle around the grave and prayed.
...
"In remembrance of Anastasia," it read, "who only wished to follow her dream."

Brought to America last year to help investigators, Anastasia's parents now are asking immigration officials to grant them a special humanitarian visa to stay here, saying they want to remain close to their daughter's grave.

Alevtina tries to focus on memories of better times, such as the days in September 2000, when Anastasia, finding strength among family in Kyrgyzstan, regained the bubbly confidence of her youth.She started flashing that astonishing smile again, and people turned to look when she walked by.

...
"Mama," Anastasia asked, "why do I feel so sad?"

>

news as it happens

• Valley man guilty in triple-slaying without bodies• Did American Taliban kill Americans?

King was convicted in February of murdering his wife, whose body was found in a sha

...
If only they hadn't given the matchmaking agency that photo of Anastasia looking so fresh and innocent.If only they hadn't believed the lies of that fast-talking American who wanted to make Anastasia his wife.

"We were so blind," says her mother, a black shawl of mourning wrapped around her shoulders."If I had trusted him less, I could have saved my daughter."

Anastasia King was a mail-order bride, one of the 4,000 to 6,000 women who come to America each year, marrying men they barely know.

Many of them find economic security, and some even find love.

...
Alevtina Solovieva, left, and Anatolyi Soloviev traveled from Kyrgyzstan to attend the funeral of their daughter, Anastasia King, in Seattle, in February 2001.
...
Anastasia found her way to a shallow grave.
...
Anastasia had an astonishing smile, her parents say.It was a smile that turned heads and lit up the bleakest day like sunshine.

She was their only child, and in her they invested the dreams they could not realize for themselves in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic where prosperity eludes all but a few.

The parents, both music teachers in Bishkek, tried to shield their family from worldly woes with what Alevtina calls "a wall of music."But they worried about how to pay for a good education for Anastasia, a diligent student and gifted pianist.

When they heard that a relative had found an American husband through a mail-order bride service, they signed up Anastasia.Soon a photograph of their 18-year-old daughter - sitting on the floor, beaming that astonishing smile - joined the pictures of dozens of other women in a catalog.

Before long, letters started arriving.
...
Three months after meeting Indle in Kyrgyzstan, Anastasia flew to America for a visit.
...
Anastasia complained that her husband wanted to know where she was, every minute of the day.He wouldn't let her get a driver's license.They argued a lot.He said he wanted children; she said she wasn't ready.

He wasn't as well-off as he'd led her to believe, and so they took in boarders at their home in Mountlake Terrace, a suburb of Seattle.Anastasia enrolled at the University of Washington and worked long hours as a waitress and restaurant hostess.
...
Anastasia read books about how to save a marriage, but nothing seemed to help.By the summer of 2000, two years into their marriage, "it was warfare," her mother says.

...
Anastasia was seeing other men and keeping a list of her husband's transgressions.He threatened to hurt her, forced her to have sex, and forbade her from going to a counselor, she wrote in a journal that she hid in a safe-deposit box.

Anastasia grew depressed.One day, she showed up at work with bandages covering cuts on her wrists, recalls her boss, Patty Swaney.

...
"It was a weak moment," Anastasia said."I won't do it again."

In August 2000, Anastasia flew to Kyrgyzstan, her second visit that summer to see her parents.Shortly after she left, Indle filed for divorce, telling his attorney that he had no idea where his wife was, even though he talked with Anastasia frequently by phone.

...
By this point, Anastasia was telling her parents she was determined to go back to America, get divorced and apply for permanent residence, now that she'd been married the required two years to a U.S. citizen.

The couple arrived at the Seattle airport on Sept. 22, 2000, and took a shuttle bus to their home.It was the last day Anastasia was ever seen alive.

...
Larson said Indle lured Anastasia into the garage the night they returned, then grabbed her in a bear hug while Larson slipped a necktie around her neck.
...
But the jury not only convicted Indle King of first-degree murder, they fell in love with Anastasia.

On Feb. 24, three days after handing down their verdict, all but two of the jurors joined Anastasia's parents at a graveside service.They held hands in a circle around the grave and prayed.
...
"In remembrance of Anastasia," it read, "who only wished to follow her dream."

Brought to America last year to help investigators, Anastasia's parents now are asking immigration officials to grant them a special humanitarian visa to stay here, saying they want to remain close to their daughter's grave.

Alevtina tries to focus on memories of better times, such as the days in September 2000, when Anastasia, finding strength among family in Kyrgyzstan, regained the bubbly confidence of her youth.She started flashing that astonishing smile again, and people turned to look when she walked by.

...
"Mama," Anastasia asked, "why do I feel so sad?"

>

news as it happens

• Valley man guilty in triple-slaying without bodies• U.S. does not have to prove American Taliban personally killed CIA agent, judge says

Anastasia Solovieva King was lured from Kyrgyzstan to Seattle as a teenage mail-order bride with the promise of an education and a better life.

But instead of picket fences and romantic dinners, their lives here were marked by servitude, lies and abuse.King's ended, after two years in America, in death.

The 20-year-old University of Washington student was buried yesterday, more than a month after her body was found in a shallow grave in Marysville.

If only they hadn't given the matchmaking agency that photo of Anastasia looking so fresh and innocent.If only they hadn't believed the lies of that fast-talking American who wanted to make Anastasia his wife.

"We were so blind," says her mother, a black shawl of mourning wrapped around her shoulders."If I had trusted him less, I could have saved my daughter."

Anastasia King was a mail-order bride, one of the 4,000 to 6,000 women who come to America each year, marrying men they barely know.

> > > > >

Many of them find economic security, and some even find love.

Anastasia found her way to a shallow grave.
...
Anastasia had an astonishing smile, her parents say.It was a smile that turned heads and lit up the bleakest day like sunshine.

She was their only child, and in her they invested the dreams they could not realize for themselves in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic where prosperity eludes all but a few.

The parents, both music teachers in Bishkek, tried to shield their family from worldly woes with what Alevtina calls "a wall of music."But they worried about how to pay for a good education for Anastasia, a diligent student and gifted pianist.

When they heard that a relative had found an American husband through a mail-order bride service, they signed up Anastasia.Soon a photograph of their 18-year-old daughter - sitting on the floor, beaming that astonishing smile - joined the pictures of dozens of other women in a catalog.

Before long, letters started arriving.
...
Three months after meeting Indle in Kyrgyzstan, Anastasia flew to America for a visit.
...
Anastasia complained that her husband wanted to know where she was, every minute of the day.He wouldn't let her get a driver's license.They argued a lot.He said he wanted children; she said she wasn't ready.

He wasn't as well-off as he'd led her to believe, and so they took in boarders at their home in Mountlake Terrace, a suburb of Seattle.Anastasia enrolled at the University of Washington and worked long hours as a waitress and restaurant hostess.
...
Anastasia read books about how to save a marriage, but nothing seemed to help.By the summer of 2000, two years into their marriage, "it was warfare," her mother says.

...
Anastasia was seeing other men and keeping a list of her husband's transgressions.He threatened to hurt her, forced her to have sex, and forbade her from going to a counselor, she wrote in a journal that she hid in a safe-deposit box.

In August 2000, Anastasia flew to Kyrgyzstan, her second visit that summer to see her parents.Shortly after she left, Indle filed for divorce, telling his attorney that he had no idea where his wife was, even though he talked with Anastasia frequently by phone.

...
By this point, Anastasia was telling her parents she was determined to go back to America, get divorced and apply for permanent residence, now that she'd been married the required two years to a U.S. citizen.

The couple arrived at the Seattle airport on Sept. 22, 2000, and took a shuttle bus to their home.It was the last day Anastasia was ever seen alive.

...
Larson said Indle lured Anastasia into the garage the night they returned, then grabbed her in a bear hug while Larson slipped a necktie around her neck.
...
But the jury not only convicted Indle King of first-degree murder, they fell in love with Anastasia.

On Feb. 24, three days after handing down their verdict, all but two of the jurors joined Anastasia's parents at a graveside service.They held hands in a circle around the grave and prayed.
...
"In remembrance of Anastasia," it read, "who only wished to follow her dream."

Brought to America last year to help investigators, Anastasia's parents now are asking immigration officials to grant them a special humanitarian visa to stay here, saying they want to remain close to their daughter's grave.

Alevtina tries to focus on memories of better times, such as the days in September 2000, when Anastasia, finding strength among family in Kyrgyzstan, regained the bubbly confidence of her youth.She started flashing that astonishing smile again, and people turned to look when she walked by.

...
"Mama," Anastasia asked, "why do I feel so sad?"

Copyright 2002 Associated Press.All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Copyright © The Billings Gazette, a division of Lee Enterprises.

If only they hadn't given the matchmaking agency that photo of Anastasia looking so fresh and innocent.If only they hadn't believed the lies of that fast-talking American who wanted to make Anastasia his wife.

"We were so blind," says her mother, a black shawl of mourning wrapped around her shoulders."If I had trusted him less, I could have saved my daughter."

Anastasia King was a mail-order bride, one of the 4,000 to 6,000 women who come to America each year, marrying men they barely know.

Many of them find economic security, and some even find love.

Anastasia found her way to a shallow grave.
...
Anastasia had an astonishing smile, her parents say.It was a smile that turned heads and lit up the bleakest day like sunshine.

She was their only child, and in her they invested the dreams they could not realize for themselves in Kyrgyzstan, a former Soviet republic where prosperity eludes all but a few.

The parents, both music teachers in Bishkek, tried to shield their family from worldly woes with what Alevtina calls "a wall of music."But they worried about how to pay for a good education for Anastasia, a diligent student and gifted pianist.

When they heard that a relative had found an American husband through a mail-order bride service, they signed up Anastasia.Soon a photograph of their 18-year-old daughter -- sitting on the floor, beaming that astonishing smile -- joined the pictures of dozens of other women in a catalog.

Before long, letters started arriving.
...
Three months after meeting Indle in Kyrgyzstan, Anastasia flew to America for a visit.
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Anastasia complained that her husband wanted to know where she was, every minute of the day.He wouldn't let her get a driver's license.They argued a lot.He said he wanted children; she said she wasn't ready.

He wasn't as well-off as he'd led her to believe, and so they took in boarders at their home in Mountlake Terrace, a suburb of Seattle.Anastasia enrolled at the University of Washington and worked long hours as a waitress and restaurant hostess.
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Anastasia read books about how to save a marriage, but nothing seemed to help.By the summer of 2000, two years into their marriage, "it was warfare," her mother says.

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Anastasia was seeing other men and keeping a list of her husband's transgressions.He threatened to hurt her, forced her to have sex, and forbade her from going to a counselor, she wrote in a journal that she hid in a safe-deposit box.

Anastasia grew depressed.One day, she showed up at work with bandages covering cuts on her wrists, recalls her boss, Patty Swaney.

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"It was a weak moment," Anastasia said."I won't do it again."

In August 2000, Anastasia flew to Kyrgyzstan, her second visit that summer to see her parents.Shortly after she left, Indle filed for divorce, telling his attorney that he had no idea where his wife was, even though he talked with Anastasia frequently by phone.

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By this point, Anastasia was telling her parents she was determined to go back to America, get divorced and apply for permanent residence, now that she'd been married the required two years to a U.S. citizen.

The couple arrived at the Seattle airport on Sept. 22, 2000, and took a shuttle bus to their home.It was the last day Anastasia was ever seen alive.

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Larson said Indle lured Anastasia into the garage the night they returned, then grabbed her in a bear hug while Larson slipped a necktie around her neck.
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But the jury not only convicted Indle King of first-degree murder, they fell in love with Anastasia.

On Feb. 24, three days after handing down their verdict, all but two of the jurors joined Anastasia's parents at a graveside service.They held hands in a circle around the grave and prayed.
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"In remembrance of Anastasia," it read, "who only wished to follow her dream."

Brought to America last year to help investigators, Anastasia's parents now are asking immigration officials to grant them a special humanitarian visa to stay here, saying they want to remain close to their daughter's grave.

Alevtina tries to focus on memories of better times, such as the days in September 2000, when Anastasia, finding strength among family in Kyrgyzstan, regained the bubbly confidence of her youth.She started flashing that astonishing smile again, and people turned to look when she walked by.

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"Mama," Anastasia asked, "Why do I feel so sad?"

(Copyright 2001 by The Associated Press.All Rights Reserved.)