That was so foolish of me.” And when she suggested the trial separation to her husband, he agreed at once. “Only, he said that it was over. No trial separation. It would be a divorce. Just like that.”
And it was.
Debby’s marriage was irrevocably broken in October of 1983. She and the children remained in the little white Cape Cod home on Dickinson Lane where they had lived since May of 1979. Victoria was almost five, and Steven was eighteen months old.
Tom had been very supportive of Debby’s decision to confront her husband. He had listened to her worries and fears and reassured her that things would be fine. “It was a shock to me when it ended so quickly,” Debby recalled. “But it did. I wasn’t scared, because I could support myself and the children financially. Emotionally, I had support from my family. I had Tom Capano and I thought I actually had someone in him who cared for me quite a bit and whom I could talk to. . . . But I knew he would never marry me. I never even considered that he would. I knew I would be fine.”
But how she needed her talks with Tom. She felt like a complete failure, full of regret and sure that the impending divorce was all her fault. “I was so full of Catholic guilt, and I still felt that there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t seem to make people happy.”
Shortly after their divorce, Debby’s ex-husband married his secretary, whose name was also Debbie. To avoid confusion, Debby took back her maiden name and started to look for a place for her and her two children to live. She would have to find something to do with the rest of her life. She would never blame Tom for the failure of her marriage; she was simply grateful that she had someone as kind as he, as passionate in her defense—someone who made her feel special and cherished.
Chapter Six
A FTER A NNE M ARIE F AHEY graduated from Brandywine High School in 1984, she and her friend Beth Barnes spent the summer at Bethany Beach on the Delaware coast. They found jobs and were young enough to survive on little sleep. “We would stay up allnight partying,” Beth recalled, “and go to work the next morning. I think that was the happiest time of Annie’s life.”
It may well have been. Anne Marie was legally an adult and she had made it through a tumultuous childhood. She was enthusiastic about going to college, and for the first time in a very long time, she had a place to live that was just like other girls’ her age. She was free to have fun. Their partying was innocent and hilarious. They all loved the beach, being tanned, and having little responsibility.
In the autumn, Anne Marie moved down to Dover to go to Wesley College, where she planned to major in international relations. It was more difficult now for her siblings to stay in close touch—but she was mature enough so they didn’t have to keep tabs on her. The littlest of the “little ones” had flown the nest and her wings seemed strong. They phoned as often as they could. Dover was only fifty miles from Wilmington, but it was far enough that they couldn’t just jump in the car on a whim to visit.
And that was all right; Dover was not nearly as large as Wilmington, and the college itself was small and welcoming. “It was like being in high school,” one graduate remembered. “Very safe. During that era, Wesley College wasn’t like going off to a big university.”
Anne Marie had an athletic scholarship for the hockey team and some student loans, but she would still have to work. She had always been able to find a job, and sometimes she worked at a couple of jobs at once on a part-time basis, selling the trendy clothes at the Limited in the Dover mall, or waiting tables at W. T. Smithers, a wildly popular bar. She also worked for a dentist for a while.
Anne Marie lived in one of the two dorms at Wesley College. “I remember her well,” another former student recalled. “I remember being so shy, and Anne Marie seemed to be
And it was.
Debby’s marriage was irrevocably broken in October of 1983. She and the children remained in the little white Cape Cod home on Dickinson Lane where they had lived since May of 1979. Victoria was almost five, and Steven was eighteen months old.
Tom had been very supportive of Debby’s decision to confront her husband. He had listened to her worries and fears and reassured her that things would be fine. “It was a shock to me when it ended so quickly,” Debby recalled. “But it did. I wasn’t scared, because I could support myself and the children financially. Emotionally, I had support from my family. I had Tom Capano and I thought I actually had someone in him who cared for me quite a bit and whom I could talk to. . . . But I knew he would never marry me. I never even considered that he would. I knew I would be fine.”
But how she needed her talks with Tom. She felt like a complete failure, full of regret and sure that the impending divorce was all her fault. “I was so full of Catholic guilt, and I still felt that there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t seem to make people happy.”
Shortly after their divorce, Debby’s ex-husband married his secretary, whose name was also Debbie. To avoid confusion, Debby took back her maiden name and started to look for a place for her and her two children to live. She would have to find something to do with the rest of her life. She would never blame Tom for the failure of her marriage; she was simply grateful that she had someone as kind as he, as passionate in her defense—someone who made her feel special and cherished.
Chapter Six
A FTER A NNE M ARIE F AHEY graduated from Brandywine High School in 1984, she and her friend Beth Barnes spent the summer at Bethany Beach on the Delaware coast. They found jobs and were young enough to survive on little sleep. “We would stay up allnight partying,” Beth recalled, “and go to work the next morning. I think that was the happiest time of Annie’s life.”
It may well have been. Anne Marie was legally an adult and she had made it through a tumultuous childhood. She was enthusiastic about going to college, and for the first time in a very long time, she had a place to live that was just like other girls’ her age. She was free to have fun. Their partying was innocent and hilarious. They all loved the beach, being tanned, and having little responsibility.
In the autumn, Anne Marie moved down to Dover to go to Wesley College, where she planned to major in international relations. It was more difficult now for her siblings to stay in close touch—but she was mature enough so they didn’t have to keep tabs on her. The littlest of the “little ones” had flown the nest and her wings seemed strong. They phoned as often as they could. Dover was only fifty miles from Wilmington, but it was far enough that they couldn’t just jump in the car on a whim to visit.
And that was all right; Dover was not nearly as large as Wilmington, and the college itself was small and welcoming. “It was like being in high school,” one graduate remembered. “Very safe. During that era, Wesley College wasn’t like going off to a big university.”
Anne Marie had an athletic scholarship for the hockey team and some student loans, but she would still have to work. She had always been able to find a job, and sometimes she worked at a couple of jobs at once on a part-time basis, selling the trendy clothes at the Limited in the Dover mall, or waiting tables at W. T. Smithers, a wildly popular bar. She also worked for a dentist for a while.
Anne Marie lived in one of the two dorms at Wesley College. “I remember her well,” another former student recalled. “I remember being so shy, and Anne Marie seemed to be
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