Chapter 21
ABSOLUTION
Throughout all the personal trials we were dealing with, Adam Leroy Lane’s trial status remained in limbo. My impatience and frustration with the legal process led me to search for answers elsewhere. The first place I turned to was the Internet. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping to find, or even where to begin looking for it. Thinking that there might be some new or updated information posted somewhere on a public or governmental website, I searched for everything I could think of that was remotely related to the pending New Jersey murder trial. However, there seemed to be nothing new disclosed in anything I came across. It was all the same information, just regurgitated by various news outlets.
Monica Massaro, Darlene Ewalt, Patricia Brooks and their loved ones had been in my prayers every night since I learned that Lane was responsible for the deaths of these two wonderful women and the near death of Patricia Brooks. I wanted to do everything I could to make good on the personal vow I had made to them—that I was going to be there every step of the way to see to it that their murderer was prosecuted and punished for all his crimes.
One day my search led me to a website that had played a significant role in Monica Massaro’s life. During her lifetime, only Monica’s closest friends and family had known about her affinity for the rock band Aerosmith, but after her murder, suddenly the rest of the world became aware as well. Because of everything our families had gone through, I felt an intimate connection with Monica, so despite feeling a little like I was invading her privacy by surfing onto Aero Force One, the official website of the famed Boston band, I continued to navigate through the site.
Among the other activities and information it provided, the site also hosted a forum for the fan-club base and maintained an extensive online board on which individuals would post information and messages for the use of and review by the other members.
What I came across on the message board was surprising and very distressing to me. Apparently, some of Monica’s friends had been upset about the People article, specifically regarding the way in which Monica and Lane’s other victims had been represented. They felt that Monica’s and Darlene’s murders, and Patricia’s injury, had all been minimized by receiving only a small sidebar synopsis of the crimes against them. Apparently, this had been the source of much discussion on the post for quite some time. I read through each and every post, dreading what I would find written there but unable to stop myself. No one stated it explicitly, but many individuals seemed to feel that the piece had been self-serving to our family. It was just what I had been afraid of.
I could understand how these people could have interpreted the article that way, given how the piece had centered on us. These people on the forum didn’t know us, and they had no way of knowing what was in our hearts or minds. I could have just let it go, and I probably should have, but I became more distraught with each new post I read, and I started to fixate on the need to explain myself and give our side of the story. I essentially wanted to apologize to all of these people who I may have unintentionally victimized a second time by agreeing to the People interview. Perhaps I could even clear up some misconceptions, such as any notion that our family had benefited financially from the article, which we had not. I felt that was important for them to understand.
The true purpose behind the article, I’d felt, had been to illustrate that although no one is truly safe in the world today, and the most horrible and unimaginable things can happen to any one of us, having an opportunity to fight back—meaning plenty of luck and the right set of circumstances—could sometimes tip the balance away from evil and in favor of the good.
Did they understand this, and that I had no control over the content of the article or how anyone else would be depicted?
I couldn’t be sure, but I decided that I had to say something. I carefully considered how to most accurately articulate my feelings; then I went back onto the website and posted a response.
This is what I wrote:
I stumbled upon the Aeroforceone website today and after reading several of the messages on the board, I wanted to extend my deepest apologies to those that were obviously offended by the article in People magazine. It was never our intention to cause any additional suffering because of our decision to tell our story. I honestly agonized over whether this was a wise choice or not and knew that I would endure some fallout because of it. We were pursued by the journalist from People, who reassured us that the piece would be done as a public interest story. We were never told that they were going to include pictures and references to they were going to include pictures and references to the other victims. My hope was to make people realize that the unimaginable happens, and happens every day to those who least expect it. I wanted to convey the importance of locking your doors and never ever disregarding the cries of your children, whether they seem pressing or not. It would have been so easy for us to roll over that night and say that our daughter was fine and just having a nightmare because the sound was so faint. Don’t for one minute think that I don’t clearly understand that Monica and Darlene Ewalt were among the angels that “kicked us in the head” and gave us the ability to overpower that maniac. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about both of them as well as the woman whom he so callously left for dead. They are all in my prayers every night and I hope that one day I will be able to watch this guy fry for the pain and suffering and horrible torment that he put so many people through, including but not limited to our family. We were seconds away from having to endure the same awful fate as the Massaros and Ewalts. For those of you that did not rush to judgment about us, I appreciate that very much. For the record, as well, in no way did we profit from this story. We were never offered a dime and I doubt we would have accepted it if we were. In closing, this world has suffered a huge loss because of the murder of Monica and Darlene. I am sorry that this sick bastard hadn’t come to our house first so that maybe they would both still be alive. Yet I can’t help but think that if he had, we wouldn’t have had ALL of the angels watching over us and things may not have turned out the way they did because of it. So again, PLEASE accept my deepest apologies to any and all that we have offended in perhaps what may have been a poor choice of judgment on our part.
With deepest respect and sympathy
The McDonough Family
I thought I had conveyed everything that I wanted to say. Once I read through it a couple more times, my finger hesitated over the Send button. Just as before the People interview, I wondered if I would be better off not saying anything at this time. However, I knew that these people had been hurt by something I had done, and I wanted to make it right by them. Or at least try.
I sent the message, and then shut down my computer. I knew I had done the right thing, but the rest of the day I couldn’t help thinking about it. I was tempted to check it every hour, but I waited until the next morning. The first thing I did when I got up was log on to the computer. I was positively shaking, fearing that my note would have somehow made the situation worse, turning Monica’s family and friends further against me. To my complete surprise, however, my post was met with such an outpouring of support that I thought I was going to cry. One after another, the numerous expressions of gratitude and respect for what our family had endured and overcome touched me deeply. I was so relieved. The responses further solidified my growing belief that the human propensity for love and compassion far outweighs the wicked and destructive impulses acted out by a small minority of individuals like Adam Lane. The gift of forgiveness and understanding that these bloggers extended to us will always remain etched in my mind. Afterward I felt compelled to thank them all personally with a second post of my own.
Thank you . . . for your words of encouragement and accolades for my husband and family. Without a doubt, if my husband hadn’t gone into that bedroom first and responded as quickly as he did, none of us would be here. He will always be my hero and I thank God every day for our blessings. I will forever work towards getting this psycho held accountable for his heinous slaughter of two beautiful women (and who knows how many others) who did not deserve the awful things that happened to them. When he is finally brought down to New Jersey, and then Pennsylvania to stand trial for his crimes, I will be there! Again, to everyone who responded in such a heartfelt manner, we all are truly touched.
Jeannie McDonough
More thoughtful and supportive posts followed. It made me feel so good, and so relieved, to hear these sentiments, just being accepted as ordinary people who got caught up in some very extraordinary circumstances.
I remember lying awake beside Kevin in bed the night before Father’s Day, unable to sleep. As I listened to his slow, steady breathing as he slept, I couldn’t help thinking that there were at least two fathers who wouldn’t be getting cards or calls from their daughters this year. It was sad to think about that on a day when we pay tribute to these men and celebrate their significance in the lives of our children. I realized how incredibly lucky our kids were to have Kevin, that night and every other before and after. I know I was comforted just having him next to me.
In light of the traumatic experiences of the previous summer, that Father’s Day, more than any other, had the power to alternately make me smile with happiness and bring me to tears at the same time. I have loved the father of my children for more than thirty years, and feel fortunate to be able to say that. I knew that Ryan and Shea were aware of the curiosity-seekers who would occasionally drive slowly by our house, staring out of the windows in fascination, probably saying to each other, “That’s the home-invasion house.” Yet were it not for their father’s ability to act so swiftly, and with such strength and determination, all those curious people might have instead been whispering, “That’s the house where that family was murdered.”
Our blessings have been bountiful, and on that special day my only wish was that our children would truly comprehend how much their father loves them. His total commitment to their well-being has given them the opportunity to flourish. Perhaps they already realized this, though my suspicion was that they might not fully appreciate it until the day they become parents themselves.
A week or so after Father’s Day, Kevin, Shea and I made the five-hour drive down to New Jersey to be a part of the closing banquet for the Advanced Homicide Investigation Conference. Prior to the evening’s event, we sat down at a café with Detective-Sergeant Geoff Noble, of the New Jersey State Police, and several other key investigators involved in Monica Massaro’s murder case. Also joining us were Detective George Tyros and Detective-Sergeant Todd Ahern, with the Chelmsford Police Department.
It was initially intimidating to be among so many law enforcement professionals. Both Kevin and I felt more than a little out of place. After only a few moments, however, all of the detectives made us feel welcome and put me quickly at ease. My anxiety began to evaporate as we quickly identified with one another on a personal level, rather than being separated into victims and law enforcement. We talked about marriage, children, a little baseball. When the conversation turned to Monica, it revealed to us just how deeply these seasoned police officers had been affected by the senseless brutality of the case. These men all had families of their own, and they conveyed to us their personal commitment to the ongoing investigation and prosecution of Adam Leroy Lane.
Afterward, we walked over together to the event, which was held at Prospect House, a beautiful and impressive historic hall on the Princeton campus. Detective-Sergeant Noble continued to be the epitome of graciousness, never leaving our sides and truly going out of his way to make sure that Shea and Kevin and I were completely at ease. He introduced us to several of his fellow officers and commanding officers.
We all took our seats and dinner began promptly at 7:00 p.m. We were seated at the table directly in front of the podium so that we would have easy access when called upon to speak. Unbeknownst to us, none of the attendees at our table knew who we were, or that we were not in law enforcement, but invited “Guests of Honor.” We were asked not to reveal this secret, and it certainly made for some interesting conversation at our table. When the time came for Detective-Sergeant Noble to make our introductions, a hush fell over the room. All the muffled whispering stopped at once, and all eyes were on our table.
As the New Jersey police detective recapped the details of our July 30, 2007, home invasion, I could sense the chills going up the spines of those listening around us. What seemed honestly amazing to me was how stunned all of these veteran police officers appeared upon hearing the particulars of the attack. At one point Detective-Sergeant Noble’s gaze met Kevin’s, and I could see both men’s eyes as they became clouded with emotion.
We were then invited up to the podium, and the three of us rose to join him. I was absolutely astounded by the level of appreciation extended to us. I looked out at the ocean of faces in rapt attention and my heart was pounding as I began to recite the words I had prepared.
My brief statement was warmly received, and although it seemed to be appreciated by the majority of the detectives, it apparently was met with some disapproval as well. Sitting directly next to me was a well-known FBI profiler who had been scheduled to conduct a criminal linguistics workshop the following morning. Apparently he found my comments somewhat bold, and he took me aside to call me out on them. This individual bluntly asked me if I fully comprehended how my words would be interpreted by an audience full of police officers. I was somewhat confused, because I thought it had gone over pretty well. During the course of our conversation, he made me feel less sure of this, giving me the impression that others could possibly feel the same way he did.
Here we go again, I thought, my intentions completely misunderstood once more. I began to distrust my decisionmaking instincts entirely, especially when it came to speaking publicly about my family’s recent experiences with Adam Lane. I couldn’t seem to say anything without offending someone these days, my words coming back to bite me.
At first I wasn’t even sure what I might have said to elicit such a response. Then I recalled that in the middle of my statement before the assembly of police officers, I presented the scenario that if Shea had been killed while we slept, Kevin and Ryan and myself would all have been instant murder suspects, at least based upon historical criminology statistics. I simply cautioned investigators to try not to let those statistics alone limit their search for a killer because as the Lane case proves, random violent crimes do occur. I wasn’t trying to tell these officers how to do their jobs, but I was thinking about Todd Ewalt and the double tragedy he suffered, first the murder of his wife and then being “accused” of killing her.
In response to the FBI profiler’s comment and my perceived indiscretion, I tried to clearly illustrate the meaning behind my words to him and explain that I had been speaking out of a personal sense of fear. I also mentioned that my statement had been reviewed beforehand by the team of detectives assigned to the case and had not been met with any objections. He seemed to accept my explanation, but it left me feeling ill at ease and out of place among these people. Never wanting to offend anyone, least of all these courageous professionals who were only interested in helping me and others who had been victimized, I spent the rest of the evening apologizing profusely at every opportunity to anyone I may have put off by what I said.
At the conclusion of the night, we were left in the company of our newly made law enforcement friends, in a considerably more casual and upbeat atmosphere. We had the opportunity to spend additional time with one another, sharing our experiences in greater detail. Besides touching on my family’s individual torment, we also discussed the elements surrounding the case from the investigator’s point of view. The night concluded with a heartfelt commitment on all sides to keep in touch, and we were told we would be kept in the loop with regard to any and all circumstances of the Lane investigation. Detective Noble mentioned several times to Shea that she had a band of brothers in New Jersey who would always be there for her if she ever needed them.
Kevin was inundated with handshakes and business cards from many of the detectives we had been privileged to meet that evening. I later joked to Kevin that now he certainly had people he could call if he ever got into any trouble.
Despite having put my foot in my mouth during my speech, it had been a good night. We were all exhausted by the time we got back to the hotel, and it seemed as though I had barely laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes when it was morning. We were on the road early, but we were not headed home. We had made arrangements to finally meet Mr. and Mrs. Massaro.
Although we had been in communication with them in one form or another for a long while now, this would be our first opportunity to meet in person. We were not far from where they lived, so we planned to stop by and have breakfast together before continuing our journey back to Chelmsford.
We drove to Frank and Fay Massaro’s home, and upon seeing their faces, an impeccable reflection of their own beautiful daughter burnt into their features, I couldn’t help but cry. The love and loss conveyed in their embrace was agonizing and uplifting at the same time. The Massaros invited us inside and allowed us to view several family photo albums with them. Looking through the touching and nostalgic pictures of an adorably precious young girl, we saw Monica grow up before our eyes into the exquisite and vibrant woman she became in the final snapshots. The pain and sorrow in the room were palpable, but it was an experience the Massaros wanted to share with us, and we felt privileged that they had opened themselves to us in that way.
Fay’s brother, Ronald, and their niece, Susan, also joined us at the house. They both felt strongly about being there to offer support to their family in what was already turning out to be a very emotional visit for everyone. I believe that their presence allowed Fay and Frank a greater level of comfort. Susan conveyed such strong feelings of love and affection for her aunt and uncle that I couldn’t help but consider what a terrible tragedy it was that these people would never have a chance to be grandparents to Monica’s children.
After a little while, we all moved on to a local restaurant, where the conversation was much lighter and the omelets were satisfying. We were able to focus more on the enjoyment of each other’s company, and here the Massaros engaged Shea in an extended dialogue about her active social life. They seemed to really enjoy talking to her, and we all ended up learning a lot about each other during our brief visit. Frank and Fay insisted on picking up the tab, and instead of fighting over it we invited them to come up to Boston sometime soon and we would return the favor. They agreed.
Just before leaving, we took some pictures together to remember the bittersweet occasion. I only hoped that when the Massaros looked at the photographs, they would realize that even in death, Monica had continued to enrich the lives of others. She’d brought all of us together, and we paid homage to her legacy that day.
On the way home, Shea revealed to us that Fay had given her some of Monica’s personal belongings, items that she thought Shea might enjoy. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for Fay. In a personal tribute to Monica, Shea placed the items that Fay had given her around her room. I know Shea thinks of Monica often, and I believe that Monica will watch over her. I feel very secure in this, even if to some it may seem like superstition.