A Woman Of Conviction

Just last week, a YMCA near Houston, which had been named after Lay, removed his name from its offices, then stripped it off the building at Lay's request after he resigned from the board of directors, the Houston Chronicle reported.

Months after Enron imploded, Linda and her daughter Robyn, who during the trial often sat next to her mother with an arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, opened an upscale resale shop, Jus' Stuff. The consignment store sold armoires, china and pricey knickknacks that Linda claimed came from her own penthouse or vacation homes, or from the households of her socialite friends. The shop, which opened in the summer of 2002, angered many people who had lost retirement savings and job security because of Enron's demise.

"How can the Lays live with themselves knowing they caused the downfall of so many families?" asked a letter writer to the Houston Chronicle after the newspaper published a story saying the retail business was for sale. It closed in 2004.

Steve Wende, pastor of Houston's First United Methodist Church, where Ken and Linda attend services, said the Lays have resisted the temptation to fight back against people who have "demonized" the family.

"The Lays in general tend to be strong people," Wende said. "The women are independent, they have their own minds. . . . Their support for Ken was not a dependence on him."

For the Lays, Enron always was a family affair. Daughter Elizabeth, a lawyer who helped coordinate her father's defense just weeks after giving birth to her second child, once worked at a subsidiary business. Son Mark served as a vice president leading its paper division. Linda's son, Robert "Beau" Herrold, managed Lay's finances. A son-in-law worked for the family's charitable foundation. And Ken and Linda often took a set of relatives along when they flew overseas on business, according to trial testimony, which included itineraries of the Lay's personal and business trips. One such document reminded staff to prepare fruit and cheese trays and hot dinners.

The interlocking relationship between the Lay family and the company he founded came full circle after the verdict, when Linda and three of the children stepped forward, red-eyed from crying, to pledge the deeds to their homes on the promise Ken Lay would not flee the country before his Sept. 11 sentencing. Each of them solemnly raised their right hand.

Giles, a friend and a lawyer who spoke briefly with the Lays after the conviction, says they are "in shock."

"If there is a family in America that can survive this, they can," Giles said. "Whether or not anybody can ultimately withstand this kind of pressure, that's another question."

Lawson, pastor emeritus of the Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church, entered the courtroom to console the Lays immediately after the jury's decision. All five children gathered around their father after the verdict to pray, he recalls. "Probably that was a model of how a family ought to operate in a time of crisis," he says.

When Lay flew back to Houston this week, Linda left their mountain hideaway to accompany her husband back to the place that delivered what he considers the greatest "shock" of their lives. He was, once again, a famous man with an important appointment to keep.

In the federal courthouse, the probation officer conducting a pre-sentencing evaluation awaited.

Staff researcher Richard Drezen contributed to this report.