would accrue. It was, in every sense, a most cynical and dispiriting view.
Chapter 9
January 1, 1990
Monday
New Year greetings must have rung hollow indeed in parts of Revere on the first day of 1990. It is doubtful that the good Catholic, sports-crazed Stuarts even watched with much enthusiasm as Notre Dame whipped up on Colorado in the Orange Bowl. They had much weightier things to deal with.
Where and when they met, and exactly who was there, has not been disclosed. Probably they met at Michael’s house. In attendance, virtually for sure, were Michael, Mark, Matthew, Shelly, and Janet Monteforte, Matthew’s girlfriend. Neysa, for reasons not disclosed, was not there. Neither, probably, was Chuck. It may have been the first time that Shelly and Mark were aware of Chuck’s involvement, although unnamed Police Department sources have suggested otherwise.
From what developed later, it appears that Matthew expressed an inability to continue to keep suppressed what he knew about events in Mission Hill on the night of October 23 and the period immediately before that. Friends of Matthew’s have said that when he came back from California in mid-December, he was a changed person. A boisterous, devil-may-care Irishman before he left, a chip off his old dad’s block, he was sullen, nervous, and depressed when he returned. According to a friend, he was drinking more than usual and was prone to cry in his beer. Although most could not account for the change at the time, they were soon to learn the reason.
Matthew’s decision, of course, may have been prompted by more than an attack of conscience. If he was tormented by the moral dilemma brought on by his knowledge, he would not have waited seventy-two days to decide to speak up. Later there would be speculation that his decision had been prompted by the fact that he could not stand by while his brother fingered Willie Bennett, who, while not exactly an innocent man, was at least apparently innocent of shooting Chuck and Carol, although even that has not yet been determined for certain, according to District Attorney Flanagan. Nevertheless it is improbable that Matthew, a true son of an Irish linen-white, blue-collar suburb, would have been overwhelmed with guilt about what was going to happen to a cop-hating black ex-con from the inner city. What seems more probable is that Monteforte told him that if he didn’t do something, she would. Faced with an ultimatum like that, the lawyer Perenyi, who at some point took Matthew on as a client as well, may have advised him that he would fare better by going to the authorities himself.
Still, according to Perenyi, when Matthew announced his plans to the gathered siblings, they tried to talk him out of it. But apparently he was adamant. On January 3, the first convenient day after the holiday break, Matthew said he was going to the prosecutors to tell them what he knew about the incident.
From the meeting with his brothers, Matthew went to Reardon’s Bar, the tavern owned by his cousin that was one of his favorite drinking places. He slumped over the bar, crying in his beer. Two friends who found him utterly dejected tried to cheer him up. Ever since he had come back from California, he had been subject to fits of deep depression, and they worried that he might be contemplating suicide.
“I’ve got to do it,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to get it over with.”
Certain now that their friend was talking about suicide, they told him that killing himself was no way out, no matter how bad things seemed.
Matthew shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “That’s not what I mean.”
What do you mean? they asked.
He refused to answer. “When it happens you’ll all know,” he said cryptically. “The whole world will know.”
In attempting to fathom Matthew’s motives, there is another factor to consider as well. Although it was not a topic of frequent debate among the general public in Massachusetts, there
Chapter 9
January 1, 1990
Monday
New Year greetings must have rung hollow indeed in parts of Revere on the first day of 1990. It is doubtful that the good Catholic, sports-crazed Stuarts even watched with much enthusiasm as Notre Dame whipped up on Colorado in the Orange Bowl. They had much weightier things to deal with.
Where and when they met, and exactly who was there, has not been disclosed. Probably they met at Michael’s house. In attendance, virtually for sure, were Michael, Mark, Matthew, Shelly, and Janet Monteforte, Matthew’s girlfriend. Neysa, for reasons not disclosed, was not there. Neither, probably, was Chuck. It may have been the first time that Shelly and Mark were aware of Chuck’s involvement, although unnamed Police Department sources have suggested otherwise.
From what developed later, it appears that Matthew expressed an inability to continue to keep suppressed what he knew about events in Mission Hill on the night of October 23 and the period immediately before that. Friends of Matthew’s have said that when he came back from California in mid-December, he was a changed person. A boisterous, devil-may-care Irishman before he left, a chip off his old dad’s block, he was sullen, nervous, and depressed when he returned. According to a friend, he was drinking more than usual and was prone to cry in his beer. Although most could not account for the change at the time, they were soon to learn the reason.
Matthew’s decision, of course, may have been prompted by more than an attack of conscience. If he was tormented by the moral dilemma brought on by his knowledge, he would not have waited seventy-two days to decide to speak up. Later there would be speculation that his decision had been prompted by the fact that he could not stand by while his brother fingered Willie Bennett, who, while not exactly an innocent man, was at least apparently innocent of shooting Chuck and Carol, although even that has not yet been determined for certain, according to District Attorney Flanagan. Nevertheless it is improbable that Matthew, a true son of an Irish linen-white, blue-collar suburb, would have been overwhelmed with guilt about what was going to happen to a cop-hating black ex-con from the inner city. What seems more probable is that Monteforte told him that if he didn’t do something, she would. Faced with an ultimatum like that, the lawyer Perenyi, who at some point took Matthew on as a client as well, may have advised him that he would fare better by going to the authorities himself.
Still, according to Perenyi, when Matthew announced his plans to the gathered siblings, they tried to talk him out of it. But apparently he was adamant. On January 3, the first convenient day after the holiday break, Matthew said he was going to the prosecutors to tell them what he knew about the incident.
From the meeting with his brothers, Matthew went to Reardon’s Bar, the tavern owned by his cousin that was one of his favorite drinking places. He slumped over the bar, crying in his beer. Two friends who found him utterly dejected tried to cheer him up. Ever since he had come back from California, he had been subject to fits of deep depression, and they worried that he might be contemplating suicide.
“I’ve got to do it,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to get it over with.”
Certain now that their friend was talking about suicide, they told him that killing himself was no way out, no matter how bad things seemed.
Matthew shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “That’s not what I mean.”
What do you mean? they asked.
He refused to answer. “When it happens you’ll all know,” he said cryptically. “The whole world will know.”
In attempting to fathom Matthew’s motives, there is another factor to consider as well. Although it was not a topic of frequent debate among the general public in Massachusetts, there
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