Zoe Jackson loved to lick the salt from pretzel rods her mother bought from BJ’s in the big jar with the red top. She was a little over a year old and had bow legs that kept her busy playing with the family cat, an orange tabby, at home in Newark. He would paw at her; she would try to get close enough to kiss him.
A few miles away in Elizabeth, Madison Spearman seemed to smile all the time, comforting herself with a pacifier like Maggie from "The Simpsons" television show. She was just shy of a year old, a pleasant infant who slept through the night, not waking up to cry or whine.
The babies, cute with chubby cheeks, never met each other, but they are linked together in ways their families could have never imagined.
Both died violently just four months apart last year, killed by teenagers.
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