21 years ago, the hit men changed her life
Ex-area resident marks anniversary of attack that left her paralyzed.
Today, Heather Grossman and her three children will go out to dinner to celebrate the day her ex-husband hired hit men to kill her 21 years ago.
“It’s my second birthday,” said Grossman, who defied astronomical odds and survived the 1997 shooting that left her paralyzed from the neck down.
Had Boca Raton paramedics not been nearby picking up lunch at a Publix, she would have died minutes after she was shot in the neck as she and her new husband waited in their Lincoln at a stoplight on Federal Highway and Yamato Road.
In fact, she did die. A paramedic who had been on the job for six months miraculously brought her back to life.
“God was there that day,” said Grossman, now 52 and living in Arizona. “I’ve had 21 years to be with my children, to raise my children. I truly believe I had a calling to help people — to help other victims of domestic violence to find the strength to get out of their situations.”
If anyone is an expert on domestic violence, it’s Grossman.
She not only endured the controlling mania of her first husband, Ron Samuels, but was terrorized again by her second husband, John Grossman.
But, she says, the reasons the two fabulously wealthy men became abusers were very different.
Samuels, who is serving a life sentence for planning Grossman’s murder, is simply a “sick and evil man,” she said.
Grossman, in contrast, was a good man who couldn’t deal with the fallout of the shooting and the years of stress that followed.
“I truly believe he had post-traumatic stress disorder,” she said. “Everything before me being shot, he was a wonderful husband and he was so good to my children.”
While John Grossman was grazed by a bullet when the windows of their Lincoln exploded,
his real injuries were psychological, she said. He was haunted by the memory of seeing his wife nearly die and incapable of accepting the reality that she would spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair tethered to oxygen.
More importantly, she said, while it immediately became clear to police that Samuels orchestrated what he hoped would be Heather Grossman’s murder, it would be eight years before he was returned to Palm Beach County for trial. Arrested on drug charges in Mexico, where he fled after the shooting, Boca police warned the Grossmans to be on guard even after they moved to the Phoenix area to evade Samuels.
“All the police ever did was say, ‘We’re worried Ron may get out of jail. He has so much money and it’s so cor- rupt in Mexico,’” Grossman said. “I loved John. I just feel he couldn’t deal with it.”
In March 2005 — roughly a year after Heather divorced him and months after Samuels was booked into the jail — John Grossman died at age 55 of a heart attack.
In a self-published book she completed in July, Gross- man reco u nts h er roll- er-coaster life.
First with Samuels, who made millions owning radio stations and car dealerships, and then with John Gross- man, the son of a Minneapolis car leasing magnate who has part-owner of the Min- nesota Vikings, Grossman lived lavishly. Exotic vaca- tions, multimillion-dollar homes, diamond-studded jewelry, shopping sprees and dinners at five-star restau- rants were routine.
After Grossman gave birth to three children, a son and a set of twins, Samuels became vicious and controlling. Instead of savoring her opulent lifestyle, Gross- man describes cowering in her bedroom, fearing Samu- els would pull the trigger of a gun he held to her head.
John Grossman under- went a similar metamor- phosis after the shooting. Initially caring and devoted, he became angry and vindictive, lashing out at the round-the- clock nurses Grossman needs to survive. She describes him smearing dog feces on her blouse, spitting in her face, punching her in the chest and sexually assaulting her. Alone, with no use of her limbs, she was powerless to protect herself. She said her reasons for writing “Paralyzed in Paradise,” are twofold. She wanted to show other victims of domestic violence that if she could leave abusive relationships — especially when she was in a wheelchair — they could, too. However, she has a far more practical goal. She needs money. While she successfully sued Samuels in Palm Beach County Circuit Court to get the proceeds of a $1 million life insurance policy he took out on her, that money is gone. Further, while Samuels was ordered to pay her $360,000 in back child support, John Grossman inexplicably was awarded the money in the divorce. He argued that he deserved it for supporting her three children, she said. For years, she has survived from the proceeds of a shoe business her parents began in their home in Minnesota and continued to operate when they moved to Arizona to care for Grossman and her children. However, her father, Ralph Stephens, died of cancer in June at age 76. About six months before his death, a California company that for years had manufactured the shoes announced it could no longer do so. She, her 75-year-old mot h er and grown children are searching for a factory so they can revive the shoe company, Walk The Walk. “Right now we do not have a factory making our shoes so we don’t have an income to pay for my medical care,” she said. Grossman’s care is expen- sive. The 24-7 nurses she needs to make sure her ventilator doesn’t malfunction, to move her so she doesn’t get potentially fatal bed sores and help her with daily chores such as feeding, bath- ing and dressing, aren’t fully covered by insurance. Along with other expenses, her medical bills, after insurance, come to about $90,000 a year, she said.
If the money runs out, she fears she will be put in a nursing home. “I would be dead within six months,” she said. Nursing homes don’t have sufficient staff to care for someone who needs such extensive care, she said.
Her children, who live nearby, tried to help by starting a GoFundMe site. The $20,000 it generated was quickly spent, she said. Bills keep piling up.
“I can’t work,” she said. “I can’t get a job.”
So, she said, she was hoping that book would bring in money to fill important gaps. She started writing it two years ago, as a personal goal to confront her years of abuse. She would dictate passages and her nurses would type them up.
After her father’s death, publishing her story became more urgent. She couldn’t find a publisher so she decided to self-publish on Amazon where she gets a fraction of the $14.99 price for the paperback version.
She dreams of a TV talk show host picking up the book and promoting it to their millions of viewers and possibly capturing the attention of an agent or book publishing giant. Until that happens, she relies on friends and Facebook to promote it.
In the meantime, Heather Grossman continues to live a very busy life.
She talks to domestic violence groups and Arizona State University law school and criminal justice students about her experiences. She works out with her feet strapped to a stationary bike. And, she spends time with her mother and children.
“They’re amazing, strong kids,” she says of her children Ronnie, 29, and her 27-year-old twins, Joe and Lauren. They all graduated from college and are gainfully employed. “I’m so proud of how they turned out,” Grossman said.
Today, they will gather to celebrate Grossman’s amazing journey from that horrific day on Federal Highway in Boca.
“If it wasn’t for my faith, and my beautiful family, I wouldn’t be here today,” she said.