Between the banks of the Providence River and Dyer Street a memorial honors the nine men who died on Oct. 23, 1983, when a Marine barracks in Beirut, Lebanon was bombed.

Dedicated in 2020, the edifice on Providence’s downtown waterfront incorporates the Marines’ faces. Etched into glass, they are illuminated by both sunlight and electric light.

Recently, a What and Why RI reader asked “Who are the Rhode Island Nine?” after walking by the monument.

Based on material from the Providence Journal archives, here’s a look at the group of men that would become known as the Rhode Island Nine.

Sergeant Timothy Giblin

Giblin, 20, of North Providence, had served in Lebanon with his brother Donald Giblin, who did not live in the same barracks and was not injured in the bombing.

The two of them were known as the “Beirut Brothers.” Giblin’s return in a casket accompanied by his surviving brother drew national media attention.

Giblin was one of 11 children raised by his mother, Jeanne Giblin.

He had an administrative role in the barracks. He was married and he had a daughter, Tiffany, who would grow up to have three children of her own.

Both his widow, Valerie, and his brother William Giblin, remain dedicated to preserving not only his legacy but the memory of the eight other Marines who were killed in Beirut.

Cpl. Rick R. Crudale

Crudale, 21, of West Warwick, was a graduate of Coventry High School. He had certifications in welding and auto-body work from the West Bay Vocational Technical School. He had married his high school sweetheart.

About two weeks before the bombing, a portrait of just Crudale was published on the cover of Time Magazine. He stood among sandbags near a Jeep with a vista of Lebanese buildings in the distance.

The headline above the picture was “Holding the Line.”

Crudale’s family bought every copy of the magazine they could find.

It was a lot of prominence for Crudale. His wife, Heidi, would later say that her husband was a private person.

Cpl. Edward S. Iacovino Jr.

Iacovino, 20, of Warwick, had found a rhythm in the Marines after dropping out of Pilgrim High School during his senior year and later earned his high school diploma while in the military.

Iacovino’s first tour of duty was nearly over but he had just reenlisted due to a discouraging job market.

“In his last letter, he said he’d try staying another year and maybe things would get better,” his mother Elizabeth Iacovino told a reporter as she and her husband awaited official word on their son’s death.

Pfc. Thomas A. Julian

Julian, 22, was a 1979 graduate of Portsmouth High School.

His funeral was held at St. Mary’s Church. He had been a regular there growing up and the pastor recalled that “he always had big bright eyes.”

He had been in the Marines for about a year and was due home the following month. His parents had been planning a big Christmas reunion.

Julian had opted for the Marine Corps as a way of doing “something with his life” after he had some difficulty finding a good job after high school, his mother said.

Julian was a Life Scout in the Boy Scouts. He had also mowed the lawn on the property of the Portsmouth Historical Society, which later became the home of the Portsmouth Beirut Marine Memorial, which honors Julian and members of the Rhode Island Nine.

Cpl. David C. Massa

Massa had tried to quit Warren High School before he graduated in 1981. At the time, the 16-year-old felt he needed to help support his family. He had eight siblings.

A guidance counselor, Marie Boyle, later told a Journal reporter that she had found Massa a job at a textile mill and arranged his classes so he could study mornings and work afternoons. He graduated with good grades and joined the Marines with plans to go to college after his enlistment.

For most of the deployment in Lebanon, he had seemed in good spirits, according to his sister, Anna Cruz, who spoke to a reporter after his death.

However, her brother’s most recent letter lacked the same upbeat tone, she said, adding that he had conveyed that a lot of things were going on in Beirut that he could not write home about.

He urged her not to worry about it and declared he could take care of himself.

Cpl. Thomas A. Shipp

Shipp, 27, of Woonsocket, was the oldest and most experienced of the young men killed in the bombing.

He was a Coast Guard veteran. In June 1977, Shipp and other guardsmen were treated for minor injuries after they tried to help the crew of a burning sailboat.

After six years in the Coast Guard, Shipp drove trucks for a year. Then, he decided to enlist in the Marines.

Cpl. James F. Silvia

Silvia, 20, was a 1981 graduate of Middletown High School.

He was also a cook in the military.

He planned to enter culinary arts school after his discharge.

His death was a double blow for his sister, Lynne.

The bombing took her brother’s life and it also killed her husband, Cpl. Stephen E. Spencer,

Cpl. Edward Soares Jr.

Soares, 21, of Tiverton, participated in a reserve officers’ corps program in high school.

The 1981 Tiverton High School graduate served as a cook, working in the barracks.

He had planned to propose at Christmastime and to marry the following year.

His girlfriend had attended a Tiverton High School football game as she and Soares’ family waited for confirmation that the missing corporal had died in the bombing.

At the game, spectators observed two minutes of silence for him.

Cpl. Stephen E. Spencer

Spencer, 23, of Portsmouth, was a native of Pensacola, Florida.

His official residence had been in Portsmouth since he had married Lynne Silvia. She was the sister of James Silvia – a comrade in arms – and in death.

Silvia had introduced him to her.

The wedding took place the day before the two Marines shipped out for Lebanon as brothers.

Months later, his wife waited sleeplessly, over a period of days, for word about Spencer’s death.

She wore her husband’s dog tags and a T-shirt he had sent her. It was emblazoned with the word “Lebanon” – written in both English and Arabic.

Sounds like the kind of glowing letter an exemplary employee would receive from an appreciative boss, right?

Well, it appears there’s a little more to it.

The part that neither Warner nor Cano Morales is willing to discuss these days is the reason for her abrupt departure, or why the college agreed to pay her up to $180,000 — a year’s salary — plus a $2,200-a-month health care stipend on her way out the door.

Those details only came to light after I requested a copy of Cano Morales’ severance agreement, which is dated May 14. The agreement also spells out specific language for the college to use to communicate her decision to step away, explaining that she was leaving to pursue other opportunities.

As is typically the case with severance agreements, the deal prohibits Cano Morales and Warner from making any disparaging statements about one another. Both sides interpret that to mean that they can’t speak about the arrangement at all.

None of this passes the sniff test.

If, in fact, Cano Morales left the college on perfectly good terms simply to pursue other opportunities, that would mean Warner signed off on a $180,000 taxpayer-funded golden parachute for a seven-year employee who wasn’t working under a contract. This wasn’t a buyout.

If something else happened, the public — including the hardworking students at this commuter school — deserves to know why their money is funding payouts like this one.

Either way, their silence is deafening.

This is where I have to show my cards: I truly don’t know what happened, even off the record. This isn’t a situation where I’ve heard rumors about an employee or employer behaving badly, and I happen to think highly of both Cano Morales and Warner.

Cano Morales has a beautiful life story, a first-generation Colombian who graduated from the University of Rhode Island and then earned a master’s degree at RIC. She has become one of Rhode Island’s most influential members of the Latino community, previously holding roles as chair of the Central Falls School Board of Trustees and at the Latino Policy Institute at Roger Williams University.

In Warner’s case, I was quick to call on Governor Dan McKee and Postsecondary Education Commissioner Shannon Gilkey to remove the interim tag from his presidency. They did, and by all accounts, he has delivered. Rhode Island College is in a better place than it was 10 years ago, and the future looks bright.

What I do know is that secretive year-long severance payouts to public employees aren’t very common in Rhode Island, and they usually involve the threat of a lawsuit or wrongdoing on someone’s part. In 2019, for example, I covered the city of Providence’s decision to pay its human resources director a year’s salary in exchange for her not suing the city.

In this case, I know that RIC isn’t planning to fill Cano Morales’ role, which raises some diversity questions about Warner’s leadership team. At the vice president level, the college’s leader on diversity, equity, and inclusion was part of Warner’s cabinet. Now the college is in the process of hiring a director of DEI, according to spokesman John Taraborelli, putting the leader of the college’s DEI efforts significantly lower in its leadership hierarchy.

“The rest of her portfolio has been distributed among several members of the leadership team to ensure that the projects and initiatives within those areas continue without interruption,” Taraborelli said.

When I asked Taraborelli if RIC had entered into any other severance or separation agreements with non-union employees in recent years, he was able to produce only one other example. In July 2023, Jeannine Dingus-Eason resigned from her role as dean of the Feinstein School of Education and Human Development to become associate provost of DEI initiatives at the same salary for one year. She was allowed to work remotely, and agreed to not apply for any role at RIC in the future.

Back to Cano Morales. For now, her departure remains a mystery.

She has been receiving $15,000 a month from RIC as part of the severance package, and she has been guaranteed at least eight of those payments, according to the agreement. She is entitled to four more of those monthly payments as long as she doesn’t secure employment elsewhere.

Judging by Warner’s recommendation, she’d make quite a hire.

Dan McGowan can be reached at dan.mcgowan@globe.com. Follow him @danmcgowan.

A man took his toddler from the boy’s day care in Canton, Massachusetts, despite a restraining order, sparking a police search that tracked the pair into Rhode Island on Thursday, officials said.

Nathan Dorosario was taken into custody over an hour later in Pawtucket, according to police there and in Canton. His child was safe and being returned to his mother.

Dorosario was being held on a fugitive from justice charge, and Canton’s police chief said he likely faces charges of custodial kidnapping and violation of a restraining order when he’s returned to the state.

It wan’t immediately clear if Dorosario had an attorney who could speak to his arrest.

The child was reported taken from day care, despite an active restraining order out against Dorosario, about 2:25 p.m., Canton police said. Working with state police, investigators were able to track his phone, leading them to Pawtucket, where he was caught after a foot chase.