How the Dentist Who Killed My Dentist Was a Dental Legend
The dentist who killed his dentist was a legend.
He was an American, a former Army Ranger and a Vietnam veteran who spent years in the country illegally before getting his citizenship in 1985.
He also had a taste for beauty products.
In 2006, he started his own dental practice in San Diego.
And he did so for free.
But he soon realized that the price of doing business was high.
He wanted to do more.
“I had my first client, but I was getting paid less than a $200,000 salary,” he told me.
“That was a big deal.”
In the fall of 2011, after months of negotiations, he and his wife, Carol, decided to buy a home in San Bernardino County.
They bought the home for $3.9 million in February of 2012. “
They bought a two-story home on a ranch in the San Bernardino mountains.
They bought the home for $3.9 million in February of 2012.
“And we had a few new problems. “
We were living in a trailer,” he said.
We were struggling to survive. “
Carol’s husband had been killed in the line of duty.
We were struggling to survive.
I’d been in the Army for a year. “
He wasn’t the nicest guy, but he was there for me.
I’d been in the Army for a year.
He would come by and talk to me.”
In June 2012, the couple moved into the home.
But that wasn’t enough.
In late September, the new owner, a dentist named Paul Zimbalist, shot and killed Dr. Peter Cipolla, a leading figure in the field of dentistry.
He left behind a wife and a daughter.
“It’s a shock,” Carol said.
She had heard about the Zimbals before.
He had a reputation for having good dental work.
“Paul was the guy,” she said.
He’d been working at a hospital, a private practice, for almost 20 years.
He graduated from the University of California, San Diego, and had spent more than a decade as a dental hygienist in various hospitals.
“The dentist’s reputation was solidified,” Carol remembered.
It was the last straw.” “
But there was no doubt in my mind he would go to jail.
It was the last straw.”
The next morning, Zimballis son, Kevin, told his mother, “Dad, I can’t be here for this.”
They packed up their car, drove to a nearby town and found a church.
It had been damaged by the tornado.
They decided to drive to his mother’s grave site, where he was buried.
“If they had done a better job,” Carol, a retired nurse, told me of the Zimmermans, “they could have done a lot more.”
The funeral was held in San Jose.
After an hour of prayer and a long service, the coffin was lowered into the ground, where it was interred.
“When they got the coffin into the church, it was a good sign,” Carol recalled.
“Because it wasn’t in a coffin.
It sat there.
And I can tell you, the pastor, and everyone else in the congregation were stunned.”
But the Zimmers were in the midst of another difficult decision.
Carol had just returned from a visit to the family home.
The dentist’s son had a small child, a baby girl, and wanted to give her up for adoption.
They’d been told that adoption could take months, if not years.
But Carol said she wasn’t convinced.
“She wanted to adopt the child,” Carol explained.
Would they take the child and keep her, or would they accept the child for adoption? “
Carol, who had become a grandmother, said she and her husband had to make a decision.
“At the time, I thought, I have to do something. “
I think I made the right decision,” she told me with a smile.
But this time, the adoption was different. “
A month later, the Zimmals had another child.
“Her name is Marnie. “
Our daughter is now 17,” Carol continued.
“Her name is Marnie.
She was born to us.”
They called the girl Marni.
“You should see her, you know?”
Carol said of her daughter.
Marnia, who was about three months old at the time of her death, was born with a congenital heart defect.
She weighed just under one pound, and she could not breathe normally.
But she was healthy.
“What a great, great girl,” Carol cried. “Marn