Angie Funk was worried when she didn’t hear from Michael Roseboro on the morning of July 23, 2008. Roseboro had always called, every morning during the week, near five forty-five, as soon as Randall Funk left for work.
Not hearing from him, Angie dialed Michael’s cell phone.
It went straight to voice mail. Michael had his phone turned off.
As the morning wore on, and a hazy sun burned off the cloud cover, Angie called her lover twice, she admitted, between nine-thirty and ten forty-five.
She was unable to reach him.
“I hadn’t heard anything [from him],” Angie later testified, “and I was starting to get a little worried, ‘cause it wasn’t like him not to call me.”
Interestingly enough, Angie got into her car and drove by the Roseboro home out on West Main Street. Moving slowly by the house, looking at all the cars and people roaming around, Angie became even more concerned, she later said.
“I was trying to get in touch with Michael,” Angie told police, “because I knew something was wrong.”
She drove back home and called the funeral home. When he wasn’t at the funeral home, Roseboro would roll the calls over to his home phone.
“Hello?” Michael said, picking up the phone call at his home.
“What’s going on?” Angie asked breathlessly.
“I cannot talk. Jan died. It was a drowning,” he said. Angie was “in shock.” She had never heard Roseboro sound so static, flatlined. The guy was generally upbeat and drooling when they spoke, making jokes about what she would wear, how she smelled, what time they were going to meet up.
But not today. Michael Roseboro had his hands full.
During an interview with Detective Keith Neff, Angie said her first thought, after hearing that Jan had (conveniently) died, was, “Oh, crap!”Then: “I did not want to be a full-time mother of six children. I did not want any more children.”
At the time that she was thinking about having just been saddled with Jan’s kids, Angie Funk was carrying Roseboro’s fifth child.
“What happened?” Angie asked Michael, wondering how Jan had died.
Roseboro gave Angie that familiar mantra he had been repeating to everyone in law enforcement, along with anyone else who asked: “I woke up,” he told Angie on that morning, “saw a light on, went outside, and saw Jan in the pool.”
“He did not go into detail,” Angie explained during that interview with Neff. “He was never ‘broken up’ about what happened, but he sounded upset when I first talked to him.”
Speaking to Michael during those days right after the murder, Angie said that she just assumed he had told police about their affair (and that’s why, she seemed to suggest, she never came forward). And yet as the ECTPD and Detective Jan Walters, of the LCDA’s Office, split up and began interviewing friends and family connected to Jan and Michael Roseboro, not one person reported the affair. Even after Angie Funk’s name was brought into the discourse of the case, Roseboro still held firm and told people that any suggestion of an affair was a lie. A terrible misunderstanding. Roseboro had told family and friends that Angie was nothing more than a woman helping him plan the renewal of his marital vows to the woman he truly loved, Jan.
Later on that day after Jan’s murder, Michael called Angie.
“Hey …”
“Michael.”
“I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I need more time,” he stated.
Angie presumed he was saying this because Jan had died such a tragic death—and he needed to be with his family. She completely understood. No pressure.
“Yes,” Angie responded.
“I just need to be in your arms,” Roseboro said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Michael.”