THE MURDER OF ANGEL ORMSTON
Angel Ormston was only seventeen when her life was violently stolen.
I share her story not just to honor her — but because it became the promise that shaped my life, my mission, and this foundation.
I grew up in Mentor, Ohio, in a neighborhood where kids played in the backyard until the streetlights came on. Angel Ormston was one of those kids. She lived just a few houses away — four years older than me, the beautiful girl with the long blonde hair she was always brushing, the girl everyone knew and liked. She was a cheerleader, magnetic, friendly, the kind of person you noticed before you even realized why. She had a presence. As a child, I didn’t have the language for it — I just knew you felt her when she walked into a room.
We had turtles named Tammy and Tommy. We did cheers in the bleachers at the baseball and soccer fields. We ran from yard to yard with no plans and no worries. She came from a great family, and I looked up to her the way little girls admire older neighborhood girls they hope to grow into someday.
The Last Day I Saw Her
July 31st is a date I’ll never forget. She pulled up to my house and asked if I wanted to go to the mall. I wanted to go — I always wanted to be where she was — but the friend I had over that day didn’t want to. Angel told me it was okay, smiled, and said, “Mark called anyway.” She waved as she backed out of the driveway.
That was the last time I saw her alive.
For years, I replayed that moment and wondered if things would have been different had I gone. As an adult, I know that what happened was not my fault — but as a child, guilt wraps around you in ways you don’t understand yet. That wave stayed with me.
Five Months of Fear
Angel went missing for five agonizing months. The news media flooded our street — vans, satellite dishes, cameras, bright lights that lit up the whole neighborhood as they broadcast for the 11 o’clock news. I remember watching the glow of the TV crews through our curtains, not fully understanding the weight of what was happening, only knowing that everything felt wrong and frightening.
The search was relentless. The fear was constant. The not-knowing was unbearable.
The Day They Found Her
Ten days before Christmas, two hound dogs discovered Angel’s remains. It shattered our community.
Her funeral was held at a large Catholic church, and thousands came — teenagers spilling out of the pews, neighbors, friends, entire families. The grief was heavy. The disbelief even heavier. She was just a girl. A girl we loved. A girl who should have had her whole life ahead of her.
Days later came the arrest.
It was Mark Sotka — the boy she loved. The boy whose name she doodled on her notebook. The boy who had passed polygraphs. He was charged with kidnapping and aggravated murder. Angel’s family wanted the death penalty. Instead, he took a plea to avoid it.
Nothing about that moment made sense. Nothing ever would.
The Promise
In 1995, her family moved away. Their absence made everything feel final. That year, I wrote a letter addressed simply:
“Dear Angel…”
In that letter, I made a promise.
I promised that people would know her story.
I promised that she would not be forgotten.
And I promised I would fight every parole hearing for the rest of my life.
I was only sixteen, but I meant it.
I didn’t know then that that promise would shape everything that came after.
At 17, I wrote this letter to Angel — not knowing it would become the promise I’d spend the next 30 years fighting to keep.
Becoming Her Advocate
As I got older, the promise grew with me.
While studying criminal justice in college, I became her family’s spokesperson and her victim advocate. I wrote statements, made calls, met with prosecutors, navigated the system on their behalf. It wasn’t something anyone appointed me to — it was how I processed the guilt and devastation of losing someone who had once waved to me from a driveway.
If I couldn’t save her, this was the least I could do.
The 2013 Parole Hearing — A Victory for Angel
When his 2013 parole hearing came up, I created the Justice for Angel Ormston campaign. I prepared like I was going to trial:
letters, media, records, community support — everything.
At that hearing, I asked for the maximum reconsideration: 10 more years.
And I got it.
The moment I received the call, I cried. And when I called Angel’s mom to share the news, it became one of the greatest moments of my life. For once, the system heard her story the way it needed to.
The 2023 Hearing — Keeping the Promise Again
Ten years later, in 2023, people doubted me again. They told me another 10-year max reconsideration was impossible.
But promises don’t expire.
I fought. I prepared. I spoke. And once again, I won.
I got to call her mom and cry happy tears all over again. I wrote:
“Today, I once again got to call and cry happy tears with Angel’s mom!
This will always be one of the greatest things I do in my life.
2033 — we will fight again.”
Two victories. Two decades apart. One promise still standing.
2024 — A Promise Turns to Legacy
In 2024, I created the Angel Ormston Memorial Scholarship — turning her story into opportunity, hope, and light for students.
The scholarship made the front page of the News-Herald.
Cleveland 19 (WOIO) ran a three-minute news story as the lead of the evening broadcast.
I posted the headline and said what I had carried my entire life:
“A promise kept.”
2025 — The Birth of A Promise Kept™ Foundation
And now, in 2025 — on what would have been Angel’s 51st birthday — I founded A Promise Kept™ Foundation.
Because families deserve what Angel’s family didn’t have.
Because victims deserve someone who stays long after the headlines fade.
Because the justice system is complicated, overwhelming, and often retraumatizing.
Because no one should walk it alone.
This foundation is her legacy.
Her light.
Her impact on the world.
From turtles in the backyard…
to cheers on bleachers…
to years of hearings…
to a scholarship…
to a national mission to support families in their darkest moments…
Angel is the reason I do this work.
And as long as I am alive, her promise — our promise — will continue.
Love is the legacy.
And the promise continues.