A Silence of Mockingbirds Read online

  “I wish you hadn’t done that,” I said. “I’m afraid you’ll never see that money again.”

  I doubt Sarah ever repaid him, but he didn’t call our house anymore after that.

  One dark night while a heavy rain fell, making the streets slick, the repo man came and towed Sarah’s new toy away. That is what happens when you fail to make the monthly payments.

  A year after Shawn Field was shackled and shuffled off to a prison cell for the murder of Karly, Glamour Magazine named Sarah their 2007 “What Are You Made Of? Reader of the Year.” They flew her to New York, where they wined and dined her, and presented her with diamonds and a big fat check.

  Sarah got the award for her work with the nonprofit, now-defunct Karly’s Angels, a charity Sarah reportedly established to assist “single mothers” like her. David found out about Karly’s Angels and the Glamour award via an e-mail announcement that Sarah apparently sent to her entire mail group:

  -----Original Message----

  From: Sarah Sheehan [mailto:[email protected]]

  Sent: Thursday, November 08, 2007 2:07 PM

  Subject: karlys angels gets props

  hiya - for those of you who aren’t in the know, KA (Karly’s Angels) was recognized nationally n NYC recently. I still have a lot of updating to do to the website, but now at least, i have some help! jilann’s work donated a computer (awesome)! and my friend jaelyn, who is also a single mother, will begin doing research next week. karly’s angels is pulling it together, with the second annual golf tournament to be held the first weekend in june. tbd. jilann, jaelyn and i travelled to new york city last saturday for a few days of sight seeing, sleeping and attending some really fantastic events. i was chosen as one of three glamour magazine readers as woman of the year and was allowed to bring two guests. i chose jilann for all of the amazing support she has given me throughout the trial, and for being such an amazing friend to me since i moved here to bend and things weren’t what i had expected. endless nights of vino and venting has fasted our friendship! i asked jaelyn to join because she is affiliated with karly’s angels. we stayed at the fantastic hotel mela, which is right in the heart of times square. on monday we walked around the block to the conde naste building that houses not only glamour mag, but the likes of GQ and a zillion others. security was pretty decent. i am enclosing the link to the awards ceremony so that you may see pictures of it all. i would like to thank each and every one of you who has supported KA. i am excited to begin promoting for our next event, and with the generous donations from many of you, and a seriously generous donation from tag heuer and glamour mag, KA will be able to begin fulfilling our goals of helping children of single parent families! and that makes me happier than any of you can imagine ;) god bless, S.

  There’s more talk about the wine and the parties than there is mention of the murder that gained her the attention.

  David had asked Sarah to stop copying him in on her e-mails. He’d even asked her to stop using Sheehan as her last name. That took me by surprise because Sarah told me David had urged her to keep her last name. She’d tagged that onto the conversation in which she’d told Tim and me Karly had passed. At the time, I’d thought it odd that it even came up in the conversation.

  David called me shortly after he received Sarah’s e-mail. Usually, David is polite, congenial, always the essence of calm, cool, and collected. Not on this night. He was clearly and profoundly disturbed.

  “What’s next?” he asked angrily. “Time’s Woman of the Year? The Nobel Prize? It’s amazing a person with her background and trail of destruction is being feted like a hero of society. I found it interesting that nowhere in her e-mail did Sarah mention Karly except for Karly’s Angels.

  “And how ironic that she would play golf on the first weekend of June. Shawn commenced the final three-day beating ordeal while Mom of the Year was at golf—although she indicated to me that week that she would skip golf because she didn’t have a sitter. ”

  I promised David that I would contact Glamour immediately. I sent an e-mail that evening to Nikki Ettore, at Glamour; to Ulrich Wohn, CEO at TAG Heuer, the diamond watch company that helped sponsor the award; and to Kris Kaczor, video editor at 750 Productions. All were people Sarah had copied on the same e-mail she sent to David.

  It has come to my attention that Sarah Sheehan was recently named a Glamour magazine reader of the year. Sarah’s daughter, Karly, was tortured to death by Sarah’s boyfriend. Court documents are clear that Sarah was, if not complicit in this crime, at least very neglectful of her daughter. Before you highlight this woman as a Glamour girl, you should take a moment to read through the court documents. I think you might discover that there is much more to the story than just a woman and daughter being victimized. It could lead to some very embarrassing press for Glamour in the long run.

  Karen Spears Zacharias, author/journalist

  A representative for Glamour magazine sent the following response:

  Thank you for your e-mail. To clarify, Sarah was honored in a WHAT ARE YOU MADE OF? contest, not a reader of the year. Glamour cannot comment on any allegations that may be made against the winner. It simply picked the winner based on her charitable efforts with Karly’s Angels.

  DANA ARISTONE | FASHION MERCHANDISING DIRECTOR |

  GLAMOUR MAGAZINE | P: 212-286-5392 | F: 212-286-4174

  I passed Glamour’s response to David, who sent me the following e-mail:

  Karly’s Angels was founded on 8/16/07 (according to the web site). Three months ago. Two weeks ago, she received donations from Glamour & TAG that would enable her to “begin fulfilling” their mission, emphasis on “begin.” So what happened between 8/16 and 11/1 that would warrant receiving an award? Where’s the track record? Did she receive an award because she got a tax ID, and has a web site under construction?

  Ulrich Wohn did not respond to me. He did, however, send David a letter after David penned his own letter explaining how he had long nurtured an appreciation for TAG Heuer and their watches, ever since he was little boy growing up in Ireland. In fact, when David finally earned that master’s degree he’d been pursuing the year Karly died, he’d rewarded himself with a TAG watch. The Glamour award to Sarah dulled the sheen on David’s long-held infatuation with TAG. He urged Wohn to take action. To his credit, Wohn responded with compassion:

  Dear Mr. Sheehan,

  Thank you for your e-mail and bringing this to my attention. First and foremost, I am writing to express to you on behalf of the entire TAG Heuer organization my sincerest condolences on the tragic death of your daughter Karly and deep sadness for the anguish you and your family have had to endure.

  With our recent awards, please know that TAG Heuer’s intention was to honor women who have positively impacted their communities and to promote charitable action and giving. The winners of the contest were chosen by Glamour Magazine solely on the basis of the essays they wrote as contest entries, as specified in the contest rules.

  While we realize that no amount of money can compensate for the pain of your loss, we have made a donation in Karly’s honor to The Retreat, a wonderful charity for children who are the victims of domestic violence.

  Again, I appreciate that you brought this very serious matter to my attention.

  Sincerely,

  Ulrich Wohn

  Photos of Sarah collecting her award were circulated via the celebrity wire:

  Early as it may have been, a perfectly coiffed Uma Thurman seemed pleased to emcee TAG Heuer and Glamour Magazine’s first What Are You Made Of? Awards breakfast last week. Thurman, who is a brand ambassador for Heuer and appears in the company’s ads, joined Heuer North America president Ulrich Wohn, Glamour editor in chief Cindi Leive and Glamour vice president and publisher Bill Wackerman and others at Condé Nast Publications Inc.’s New York headquarters at 4 Times Square to laud three women who have positively impacted their communities.

  Sarah Sheehan received an honor for starting Karly’s Angels, a not-for-prof
it network of resources for single parents…Thurman presented each winner with an engraved diamond-studded Tag Heuer Carrera Chronograph watch.

  — Sophia Chabbott

  David was angry and unnerved by the manner in which Sarah exploited their dead child for financial gain. “If Sarah had undertaken five percent of her maternal responsibility, then Karly would still be alive,” David said. “She has gotten away with so much. I can’t let her rewrite history and make this artificial life for herself.”

  Sarah was not a single mother, abandoned, left to raise a child without support from Karly’s father. Nothing could be further from the truth. Sarah was never a single mother. From the outset, David was Karly’s primary caregiver. Even the chart notes made by nurses following Karly’s birth document that fact:

  “Husband is supportive. Father of baby very concerned and primary caregiver. Baby has been rooming in and father doing most of baby care while mom rests. Offered newborn class. Mom feeling too sore and wants father to go. Father took baby to class. Husband helps with baby. Patient anxious, needs lots of support and detailed explanation of procedures.”

  Within a couple of months of Karly’s birth, Sarah returned to her freewheeling ways and resumed her social nightlife as a regular fixture at various clubs around town.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The city’s nine-hole course and club, called Par 3, located north of town on Highway 20, is a favorite among locals. Parents bring their children out to play the putt-putt course. Couples sit in the booths, sharing fries off each other’s plates and ordering another local brew. Women and men weathered by too much golf and too many cigarettes totter on bar stools in a trance, pushing the chiming buttons of the video poker machines.

  Eric DeWeese was manager at Par 3 the afternoon I stopped by following that phone call from a very distraught David. David said he’d heard Sarah had posted a flyer at Par 3 announcing a benefit golf tournament in Karly’s honor, but it was all part of Sarah’s newest moneymaking venture.

  It was one of those rare dry winter days in the valley with a hand-drawn sun stuck to a felt-board sky, looking all make-believe. I sat in the parking lot at Par 3, gathering notebook and pen, and praying to learn what became of the Sarah I once knew.

  A cursory scan as I passed through the door didn’t reveal the flyer mentioning Karly’s Angels. Overstuffed booths on my right, bar on my left. One man sat hunched over his bourbon, another over his second beer, the first bottle still on the bar.

  A television blared from behind the bar. Leaning between the two men, I asked the girl wiping a glass if the manager was around, and if I could please speak to him. I could smell a burger sizzling on the grill, and beer sloshed on the floor for the last how many years.

  Eric slid into the booth across from me. He was darkly handsome, all khaki and yellow polo, clean-shaven as a deacon. He sat sideways, back to the window, face to the bar, ready to hop up at a moment’s notice. The barmaid turned the TV down a notch.

  “What can you tell me about Sarah?” I asked.

  “She’s very attractive, very pretty, very flirty,” Eric said. “A fairly big gambler, though. If she had $500, she’d spend it. If she had $1,000, she’d spend it. She was a party girl, always liked to have a good time.”

  He paused, and in his best manger voice asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m good,” I said. “Did you know Karly?”

  “I knew Sarah for four years before I even knew she had a daughter. Crazy, huh? I assumed Sarah didn’t have custody. She wasn’t much of one to talk about personal things. She was the kind who’d ask you to watch Karly for ten minutes and come back eight hours later. Sarah was kind of a lost soul.

  “I feel sorry for what happened and all, but anybody who thinks Sarah is a victim is a fool. Sarah put Sarah first, not Karly. Good mothers don’t go out gambling. That gambling thing is a big turn-off.”

  “Is that why you never took up with her?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Eric said. “I hired her as a cook but after a couple of months I moved her to the bar. But then $300 to $400 came up missing. I never came right out and accused her of stealing but I had to let her go. She quit coming out for a while after that but then she showed up again. She’d have a mimosa, gamble, golf, have lunch, drink, smoke and gamble some more.”

  “You ever see her use hard drugs?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen her smoke some pot. She was taking pain pills left and right. She’d had some kind of surgery—I don’t remember what. But she was popping those babies left and right. You damn sure shouldn’t be taking those if you’re drinking.”

  “Do you think Sarah is an alcoholic?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” Eric said. He shifted around in the booth, so he could see the ESPN scores better. “But she didn’t have the same kind of addiction to alcohol as she did to gambling.”

  “You think Sarah was involved in her daughter’s death in any way?”

  He pondered that question for a minute before answering.

  “It’s not too farfetched to think she could do this. Why would you go off and leave your child the way she did all the time? I never saw any signs of abuse but she sure had a lot of free time to spend here.”

  “How’d you learn of Karly’s death?”

  “A customer from HP told me. It was shocking, that’s for sure. I don’t view Sarah as a victim. I think she ought to be accountable for some of it. You should talk to those people over there.” Eric nodded toward a round table back past the bar.

  “Friends of Sarah’s?” I asked.

  “Used to be,” he said.

  I looked out the window, too dark to see anything but the out-buildings. The sun had long slipped beyond the green velvet coastal range hemming west Corvallis. I wasn’t in any hurry. There was a warm bed waiting for me at Carlene Moorefield’s house. Come anytime, Carlene said, and meant it.

  “No telling when I will be coming and going,” I had warned her.

  “No worries,” Carlene said. “Here’s a key. Come and stay anytime.” This was the third or fourth of many such visits.

  “You think those people back there will want to talk to me?” I asked Eric.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. If they are good friends of Sarah’s they might find me intrusive.”

  “Not a chance,” Eric said. “People around here aren’t sorry to see Sarah go. She can stay on the east side. Good riddance.”

  I was surprised by the curt tone in his voice. “When’s the last time you saw Sarah?”

  “She was by here not long ago,” Eric said. “I gave her permission to hang up the flyer.”

  “The flyer still there? I looked for one but didn’t see it.”

  “Nah. I heard that her ex was a pretty stand-up guy and I got to wondering if he knew about this nonprofit of Sarah’s. I wanted to know if he was involved in the charity. I had some reservations and my immediate thought was, is this legit or is Sarah in Bend gambling all this away? So I asked somebody who knows David.”

  That’s when Eric found out David didn’t know a thing about Karly’s Angels. Just another get-rich-quick venture of Sarah’s, Eric figured. So he ripped the flyer out of the window. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Sarah since.

  Friendships formed over barstools can wear thin during the drought times in a person’s life. After Sarah e-mailed God and everybody and told them about being honored by Glamour magazine, her former pals at Par 3 sucked on filtered cigarettes and discussed the matter over glasses of chilled Chardonnay and foamy beer.

  “Have a seat,” Lee said, scooting to the right and offering me the chair next to Gina. Pam sat at the far end, opposite Lee now. I don’t think anyone ever introduced me to the squatty fellow sitting directly across from me. The regulars had seen me earlier, talking with Eric. Who’s the new chick? What’s she want?

  I put down the notebook and told them about how I knew Sarah. Invited them to ask any questions they
wanted. They didn’t have any.

  Lee, a Desert Storm veteran, looked more poet than soldier in his long black wool overcoat and rocker hair the color of barbwire. Lee ran around with Shawn’s brother Kevin back in the day, before that nearly forgotten war, and before Kevin overdosed.

  “We’d raise hell together,” Lee said. “Shawn’s parents were the nicest people. If we were at their house, his mom would bring us sandwiches and Shawn would yell at her to take them away. I asked him once, why do you treat your parents so badly? His parents were so nice, but Shawn was a fat, spoiled, rotten kid. A really horrible guy. He was nuts.”

  Lee knew Sarah, too, from her bartending days. “She wasn’t a bad person,” he said. “Just somebody who made bad choices. She was always the same weak girl, a heavy gambler.”

  How had Sarah’s gambling problem escaped me all these years? “So you ladies belong to the Sand Tramps?” I asked. Sarah had pulled together the all-girls league. Gina nodded. Even in the dead of winter, Gina has the honey glow of someone who spends a lot of time in the sun, planting flowers, pulling weeds. “Matt, that’s my husband, would take care of Karly a lot,” Gina said. “Our daughter Mia and Karly were playmates.”

  “What kind of mom was Sarah?” I asked.

  “I love Sarah to death but she was not cut out to be a mom,” Gina said. “Sarah treated Karly more like a possession than a daughter. She wanted Karly to have the best clothes; she was all about that trendy stuff. She liked to show Karly off but she wasn’t about spending time with Karly. Moms put their kids first. Sarah never did that.”

  “Shawn, now he was trouble,” Pam interrupted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was controlling. Sarah took up running because Shawn told her she was getting too fat. I was scared of him from the start.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “It was gut instinct,” Pam said. “When Sarah introduced me to him, I just thought, he’s not a good person. Sarah and I quit hanging out after she took up with Shawn. She was always in a hurry to get home to him.”