Four long and frustrating months after Rachel’s guilty plea in May, Skylar’s family feared the case had become as stagnant as a summer pond. The courts had done nothing. From the outside looking in, that’s how it appeared both to the people closest to the case and to the public.
Despite initial rumors that Shelia would be transferred to adult status and Rachel would be sentenced swiftly, nothing further appeared to happen. The media would not even print or speak Shelia’s name—much less speculate on what was prompting the delay.
As the summer heat pounded on, it became harder to tell which made people angrier: Rachel confessing to Skylar’s murder or the media’s refusal to name her accomplice. Eighteen weeks later, the people who followed Skylar’s story got their wish: on September 4 Judge Clawges ruled Shelia Eddy would be transferred from juvenile to criminal court.
For the prosecution of Skylar’s murder, that legal distinction meant Monongalia County now viewed Shelia as an adult. So did the State of West Virginia. That, in turn, meant both entities would hold the teen fully accountable for her actions. Equally important in the eyes of everyone following Skylar’s story, the media could now print and speak Shelia’s name—which news reporters did the minute Prosecutor Ashdown handed them a press release announcing the judge’s decision.
For 426 days, from the day Skylar disappeared until September 4, Mary and Dave had never been far from tears. A question from a well-meaning stranger who recognized them in public would cause them to mourn their only child all over again. A passing headline about another missing child would suddenly force them to relive their own tragedy.
Regardless of how many people celebrated Shelia’s new status, nothing changed for Mary and Dave. The Neeses continued to grieve. For the baby they brought home from the hospital, for the little girl who ran around naked in her family home, for the teenager who became the loyal confidante to so many of her peers. For Skylar Annette, the sixteen-year-old daughter who was lost to them forever.
So September 4, 2013, the day Shelia’s alleged role in the murder became public, was a day to celebrate, but it was also a day for sorrow. That pivotal date initiated Shelia’s slow march toward justice, but it also signaled the end of Mary and Dave’s old life. In the end, the Neeses realized, it was an empty celebration.35
Trials are not about finding the truth. They are about judging guilt and setting the world right again. But after a crime as savage as the murder of Skylar Neese, people doubt the world can ever again be right. A promising young life was violently cut short in July of 2012, and all the possible futures of Skylar Neese—and every benefit she would have brought to the people she had yet to encounter—have forever vanished.
The murder is the central stone thrown into the pond, but the waves that ripple out represent all the lives irrevocably changed. Mary and Dave have suffered most from the killing of their daughter. So have their families, as have those of Shelia and Rachel. Skylar’s friends, too, must go on without her. The teenagers at University High School, even the ones who knew Skylar only in passing, had bits of themselves torn away, as well. So did the teachers who trusted Rachel and Shelia, but who now felt betrayed. Even people not directly affected by the murder or its aftermath—in the Morgantown community and well beyond—were stunned by the betrayal of two “best friends” and may never again be able to trust in quite the same way.
Shelia’s trial for premeditated murder could never undo the damage. People still longed for it to reveal hidden truths, such as whether some mental illness turned these girls into killers, or what Rachel really meant when she said they didn’t want to be friends with Skylar anymore, or if Skylar was killed because they had to keep her quiet.
Shelia’s arraignment took only fifteen minutes, but it contained all the elements of high drama. The court hearing was held September 17—eleven days before Shelia would turn eighteen.
Shelia wore the same orange jumpsuit, white socks, and sandals as the rest of the inmates. The only female prisoner in the courtroom stood before the judge, her wrists and ankles shackled.
The contrast between Shelia and her attorney couldn’t have been more pronounced. Mike Benninger was as tall, broad, and dark as Shelia was short, slight, and fair. Their voices were a stark contrast as well. His boomed, by far the loudest in the courtroom. Distinct and certain, his voice allowed everyone seated in the wood-paneled room to hear him without the need to lean forward, fearful of missing something. Hers was soft and uncertain, almost childlike. Benninger’s presence made Shelia seem even smaller than she was, as if she could not possibly have committed the crimes with which she was charged.
“Have you discussed the charges with your client?” Judge Clawges asked.
“I have, your Honor. Carefully,” Benninger replied.
“Does she understand the charges against her?”
“She absolutely does,” the defense attorney said.
Four times in a row, Shelia said, “Not guilty.” To one count of first-degree murder. To one count of kidnapping. To two counts of conspiracy to commit kidnapping and murder.
Dave and Skylar’s aunt Carol sat three rows back. Before Shelia could finish her first “not guilty,” sobs were heard from their direction. People who came to observe, who had never met Skylar or her family, began to cry when they heard the sounds of grief coming from the Neese contingent.
In court, Shelia appeared to be chewing gum. Inmates do not normally chew gum while waiting to plead to felony murder charges. But the most distinctive aspect of Shelia’s appearance was her emotional demeanor. Some people say they didn’t see a single tear. Others said her eyes were rimmed in red, as if she had been crying at some point during the judge’s questions.
Some people said Shelia was smiling while she waited for her case to be called. Dave Neese believed she smiled right at him, as if to reassure him that everything was all right. Or to taunt him. News media photos and online reports from observers all seem to indicate that most people believed Shelia had been smiling throughout the procedure. As if she was enjoying the attention.36