Fiance grieves for 'soul mate'

The woman who was at his side in work and play died when a gun misfired Monday.

By REBECCA CATALANELLO
Published July 4, 2007

RUSKIN - Cecelia DeButts would never be confused for a girly-girl by those who knew anything about her.

Sure, the 27-year-old stood slender at 5-foot-3 and wore her dark hair long. Fiance Damien Perez called her "Beautiful" and "Baby, " those sweet nicknames that can make outsiders roll their eyes.

But when Perez scored a job digging out pipes in ditches, DeButts didn't hesitate to climb in with him. She roofed, did carpentry, hunted, played video games, always right beside him.

Growing up in rural Otisville, Mich., DeButts learned young from her grandfather how to hold, clean and handle a gun.

As an adult, she was comfortable enough around them, she even slept with one under her pillow.

"She's very rugged, " said Tammy Shelley, 45, Perez's mother.

And yet, that familiarity with firearms was not enough to save her life.

In a sleepy haze Monday, authorities and family members said, she reached for a .357-caliber revolver her boyfriend was handing her from behind his back as he held their dog's collar with the other hand.

The gun misfired.

Perez turned to see his lover's bloodied body lying in the bed they shared.

"Baby, baby!" Perez remembers shouting as he turned her on her side the way he knew to do when his mother had seizures.

A short while later, DeButts, who everyone called "CeCe, " died of a bullet wound to her head after being flown to Tampa General Hospital.

"There's no doubt in my mind that she was my soul mate, " a tearful Perez, 28, said Tuesday, still in disbelief.

* * *

There was something about the way she was looking at him with her brown eyes that night almost seven years ago in small-town Michigan.

It was DeButts' birthday. She'd told her friend that she thought Perez was cute. But somehow when that bit of gossip made it to Perez, it was translated into something more explicit.

"Oh, she wants to hop in the sack with you, " Perez remembers his buddy telling him.

His friend was wrong. But the couple did kiss that night. And three months later, he asked her to move back to his Florida home with him.

They landed on a Gibsonton houseboat on the Alafia River, where dolphins sometimes frolicked near the boat. The two fished together, worked temporary labor jobs together, partied together and eventually bought a mobile home together.

The only time they really spent apart, not including trips to the store, were four days about a year and a half into their relationship when DeButts went on a short vacation back home to see her family.

"I've never seen him once without her, " friend Jeremy David, 21, of Tampa said. "Never once."

On Nov. 12, 2005, their new mobile home burned down after a candle caught curtains on fire. Inside, all their belongings, including their three python snakes, burned, too.

"She was the only thing that held me together, " Perez said. "I was devastated and she was strong."

Perez was embarrassed the couple had to move back into his mother's house at 105 W. Shell Point Road in Ruskin. But he said DeButts took it in stride.

Before she died, she'd become like a daughter to Perez's mother, Tammy Shelley, and a confidante to Perez's little brother, Cody Dittebrand, 16, talking to him about girls and school and more.

"Rich ... one week, " Perez said, summarizing their life together, "broke the next - but it didn't matter, we had each other."

* * *

As he walked into Tampa General Hospital, where paramedics had taken DeButts by helicopter, Perez still had hope she was alive.

But when a nurse pulled him to a room that said "Family Consultation" on the door, he knew.

A hospital official showed him to her body. He kissed her face, and in his grief, he thought he saw her try to kiss him back.

He went home, and fell asleep on the sofa with his little brother by his side.

Only hours before, he and DeButts had been enjoying each other's company late into the night. They'd gone to a nearby field to shoot their weapons at nothing in particular, just for fun. They'd spent most of the night playing PlayStation and then fallen asleep together side by side.

When Perez woke before 1 p.m., he thought he'd be a dear and take out both of their pit bullterriers, Chopper and Cocoa, her puppy. He noticed DeButts' gun on the floor and picked it up by the handle to ask her to put it out of the way of the dogs.

He said that as Chopper pulled him toward the door, he heard the bang.

Sheriff's investigators concluded it was an accident. No one will be charged.

Perez said he doesn't know if this has changed his thoughts about having guns around the house. But he doesn't want any around him now.

For now, he knows only grief.

"To have a taste of something and have it taken away, " he said through tears, "I'd rather have never had it. I'd give my arms, my legs, my ears, eyes, nose and tongue just to have her come back."

Times researcher Cathy Wos contributed to this report. Rebecca Catalanello can be reached at rcatalanello@sptimes.com or 813 226-3383.

[Last modified July 4, 2007, 00:54:53]

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