In deep mourning, the family has taken comfort in realizing, through the memorials and candlelight vigils, just how many people his work reached. “He was a notable person,” said his father, Ronald Link, something his son’s modesty had never betrayed.
More than 800 people went to the funeral on Long Island: lifelong friends and family friends and bouncers and disc jockeys and club owners and people with tattoos and piercings and five-inch heels. “It was the hippest funeral,” his mother said, “that I have ever been to.”
“It’s a make-it-or-break-it period for us. We do the right thing, we’ll be able to pull into the 21st century with some kind of program. We do the wrong thing, the 21st century is going to be gone, there’ll be no coming back”
“These people act like we drink a gallon of blood and hang upside down from crucifixes before we go onstage,” Rob Halford says. “We’re performers, have been for two decades. We do the show and we wear the costumes our audience expect us to.”