In a black suit and a red tie, Steve Farese stalked to the podium with the pent-up energy of a Thoroughbred delayed at the starting gate. As he began to speak, his face distorted as if he were pained by what he had to say. “Good morning. Matthew and Mary Winkler had what appeared to everyone who observed them—those on the outside—to have had a marriage made in heaven. But behind closed doors, it was a living hell.
“As I listen to the prosecution submit to you that they were going to have a child eight years old at the time on that stand to testify, it breaks my heart,” Farese said looking as if he would cry.
Walt Freeland jumped to his feet. “Objection. May we approach, Your Honor?”
After a brief sidebar, Farese continued. “If that does occur, it should break your heart. Because this child has been kept away from her mother since September of 2006. Her own mother, who was out on bond, could not see her.” His voice raised an octave, his emotions obvious.
“A child who reportedly saw nothing when first interviewed, now has seen everything. A child who loved her mother, who wanted to touch her mother, who wanted to be with her mother, who wanted her mother to be found innocent, who hoped that this was an accident, now hates her mother. That should break your heart.
“The proof will show that these three girls were Mary’s only reason for living. They were her flowers. They were her ray of sunshine each day. Because a huge cloud loomed over that household. Mary Carol and Matthew were married after dating from July of 1995 to October of 1995. August, September, October, Matthew asked her to marry him after three months of dating. That’s a whirlwind romance. But he was handsome. He was charismatic. He was the perfect husband—until they married.
“And then, like many marriages, people find out there are differences. That would not be unusual, but these differences were unusual. And I submit to you that we will show you proof that he would destroy objects that she loved. He would isolate her from her family. And he would abuse her. Not just verbally. Not just emotionally. Not just physically. In other ways, too. And that this was constant.
“And she lived a life where she walked on eggshells. Because Matthew was wrestling with his demons, too. He had a father that he couldn’t satisfy. A father who was well-known, respected, legendary in the Church. But didn’t give Matthew what he needed—positive reinforcement. He gave him negative reinforcement. And Mary knew that was hard on Matthew. And Mary took it.”
Farese backtracked, offering, with tenderness, a portrait of Mary growing up in a strict household, experiencing the death of a sister and welcoming her adopted siblings into her home. He then returned to her marriage.
“The proof will show that Matthew Winkler, whenever things did not suit him—his shirts weren’t ironed correctly, if the car wouldn’t start, if something didn’t work—Mary was his whipping boy. He didn’t like the way she talked. He didn’t like the way she walked. He didn’t like it because she was too fat. He would tell her she couldn’t eat lunch because she was too fat. She wasn’t perfect and she had to be perfect, because she was a preacher’s wife. And not only did she have to be perfect, her children had to be perfect.”
Farese complained about the time the state spent talking about Mary’s financial motivation for shooting Matthew, then said, “I submit to you, the proof will show, yes, Mary wrote almost every check, because Mary did everything Matthew said to do. The proof will show that Mary was not the academic. That Mary’s not the smart one in the family. Matthew was the smart person, and we’ll submit to you the proof to show you that. No, Matthew did not sign those checks, because Matthew always set up Mary to fail.
“Their finances were in shambles—and who do you think got blamed for that? Mary did try to get Matthew’s name off that so it wouldn’t affect Matthew’s credit. That was his thinking. We’ll submit to you proof that he told Mary to set up her own account so if bad checks, insufficient funds, came back, it would not be on his account, and to get his name off that account. We will submit proof to you from that stand, from people that say Mary did nothing without Matthew’s approval. That Matthew was in control. She would not lift a finger unless Matthew said to. That she couldn’t get her hair cut unless Matthew said she could get her hair cut. She could not buy Christmas presents for the children unless Matthew said so.”
He criticized the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation’s policy to not perform audio or video recording of statements. He spoke of his gratitude to Alabama’s investigative bureau, which did tape-record the first interview, because it showed Mary’s state of mind more clearly. “She wasn’t thinking about herself. She was thinking about her children—and one other thing, something that had been more important to her before March twenty-second, 2006, than anything else: protect Matthew’s name.
“She will say it more than once. ‘I don’t want his name smeared.’ ‘There’s no sense in his name being smeared.’ Every time they asked her what happened, I submit to you the proof will show, she said, ‘I can’t talk about that right now.’ ‘I don’t want this to go public.’ She was still protecting her children from knowing about their father. And was protecting her husband in his death. She said, ‘Let me take all the blame.’ ‘Put it on me.’ She was still in that mode, ‘Put it on me.’ As long as the children are okay, ‘Put it on me.’
“Because, ladies and gentlemen, she could take what had been dished out to her. She could take it. She thought that was the way it was going to be. Nobody knew about it, because she hid it—except for a couple things. Whenever you have a secret, there’s always a few clues that slip out. I don’t care how careful you are. There’s always a few clues that slip out.
“Taken one by one, I would submit, those clues don’t mean anything. But when you put them together, they do. Trips to the doctor for a swollen jaw. A black eye not covered up adequately with makeup. Little things. Not being able to buy your own clothes. Little things that can be found on computers. Little things that add up to her existence—but she took it.
“…Mary can take it for herself, but she could not let her children take it for her. You will hear from the stand what happened on the morning of March twenty-second of 2006. Mary had always tried to talk to Matthew about his problems. She loved him. I don’t know why. She loved him. She wanted him to change. To be a better person. She thought he had it in him. They had three children. All she wanted to do was talk to him.
“Mary’d been threatened before. She’d had that shotgun pointed at her before. He threatened to cut her brake lines. He threatened to cut her into a million pieces if she talked back to Matthew the way that one of Matthew’s brother’s wives talked back to him.”
That morning, Farese said, “…she was going to get his attention. And there was only one way to get his attention—with the very thing that he’d always threatened her with—the only thing that he appeared at six-foot-one and two hundred and forty pounds to fear. The shotgun.”
Farese described the events of that morning, bringing Mary to tears. He pointed to his client and said, “Mary was invisible. She lived in a shadow. Mary was a second-class citizen. Matthew Winkler was the face of that family. He was the preacher. He was the important one. He was the handsome one. He was the charismatic one. And he was the mean one.
“Nobody was going to believe Mary—in her mind, at that time—about what happened. Nobody was going to believe Mary. So Mary thought about one thing, and that was her children. She grabbed them up. She didn’t grab clothes. She didn’t grab anything of any importance that would indicate planning. And she left.”
He discussed Mary’s frenzied trip south, the upcoming mental health testimony and Mary’s inability to see the children. Then he wrapped up his statement. “You will be the judges of, number one, whether a crime was committed. And number two, if so, what crime was committed. There was no premeditation, and there’ll be no proof of it. There was no planning, and there’ll be no proof of it. They had to come up with something. And I submit to you they’re trying to use these finances in the record that had nothing to do with it.
“Proof will show that now they have some guy who comes up and said, ‘Are you the preacher killer?’ They’re trying to use that for proof, because they didn’t have any. They’re trying to use her own daughter against her, because they’ve turned that love into hate.
“Mary may not be a perfect person. But Mary Winkler was a good wife and a good mother. Unfortunately, she wasn’t perfect.”
Throughout, Farese’s voice was lyrical, alternating between poignancy and outrage. When he spoke of his client, he often almost whispered, caressing each word. At other times, when he talked about the deceased victim, he shouted and pounded his fist on the podium. With the power of his emotions, Farese planted the first seeds of sympathy for Mary in the hearts of the jurors. He would tend that garden well throughout the trial.