Rebecca's parents also threw themselves into the fight for stricter gun laws, imploring lawmakers to tighten restrictions on who could get their hands on a firearm, a battle that's uncannily similar to the one still being waged today. Danna helped launch the lobbying group Oregonians Against Gun Violence in 1990 and went to Washington, D.C., to help lobby for the passage of the Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act.

"We face death every morning," Benson Schaeffer, Rebecca's dad, told the Los Angeles Times in October 1991. "Sometimes you're overcome with despair. You never cease missing the person. The gun issue lets us focus our anger." (The Brady Bill was eventually enacted in 1993.)

Their main goals didn't sound particularly extreme. They wanted for all gun sales to have built-in waiting periods, and to have guns only be sold by licensed dealers. "There's so little we can do about Rebecca's death," Benson, a child psychologist, said. "We feel good about doing this. It's the only public way to say that what happened to Rebecca isn't all right."

And in addition to the greater implications of this tragedy, there was, of course, the spectacle of it all: A 21-year-old celebrity, killed by a stalker, at her home, in broad daylight. Terrifying and endlessly compelling.

A portrait immediately emerged of a victim who wasn't just poised to be a major star, but a person who touched everyone who knew her with her sweet, generous spirit—a portrait that has endured to this day.