"We thought we had judicial closure," said Miriam's stepfather, Larry Mild, referring to the conviction and life sentence eight years ago of al-Megrahi. He added, "Kenny MacAskill said he wanted to avoid a martyrdom. Well, the way you do that is to lock him away in obscurity, and never let him out.
"His cohort went home to a hero's welcome," he said, referring to Libyan airline manager Al Amin Khalifah Fhiman, a co-defendant who was acquitted. "It will be the same for Megrahi."
Rosemary Mild was wearing a pantsuit - "black, for this day" - and a tiny brooch that contains a picture of her daughter, who was flying home from London after a semester abroad.
She was particularly outraged by Mac-Askill's explanation: that no mercy was shown to the victims of Flight 103, but "that alone is not a reason for us to deny compassion to him and his family in these final days."
"It is beyond comprehension that they could be considerate of him, that his life and comfort are worth more than the lives of the 270 people who were not allowed to die in the comfort of their families," she said.
Her words are so carefully chosen that she has written them down. She will say them again and again, each time the phone rings and another reporter asks.
The release of al-Megrahi, 57, who was sentenced to serve at least 27 years of a life sentence but served only eight, drew criticism from the White House and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.
President Barack Obama said he "deeply regrets" the decision, and Clinton called it "absolutely wrong."
"The interests of justice have not been served by this decision," said U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder. "There is simply no justification for releasing this convicted terrorist whose actions took the lives of 270 individuals, including 189 Americans."
The United States has insisted that al-Megrahi be kept under house arrest and that he not be honored in any way.
Williams calls the bomber's release "an insult to every one of the victims." His son, who shared his name, was a 24-year-old lieutenant in the Army and the Williamses' only child.
Williams said he cried every day for the first two years after the bombing. And even now, though it's been more than 20 years, he says a day hasn't gone by that he hasn't thought about his son.
"He had his whole life ahead of him. He was just a beautiful young man," he said. "It just tore our life apart."
