Since September her father’s house across town had been Rachel’s refuge from the recent strife between her and her mother. But more important, living with her dad was the only way she could be with Shelia. He let her see Shelia whenever she wanted to—unlike her mom. Even though Patricia had recently tried to keep her away from Shelia, just like the police told her to, Rachel would have none of it. She had to be with Shelia, see Shelia, have Shelia tell her what to do and say, every time the police came by with more questions. Shelia’s sense of calm and control were what helped Rachel fend them off.
Patricia wasn’t a fool. She knew Rusty wasn’t just Rachel’s father. He was her friend, her buddy. He knew how much she needed Shelia, and he didn’t see the harm in Rachel being with her. But now? Now they were telling Rachel he was moving back in. She knew it was a scheme to keep her from seeing Shelia. Why was he willing to work with her now, Patricia must have wondered, when he never had before?
Rachel’s screams were loud enough for the entire cul-de-sac to hear. Just as Patricia suspected, she saw through their act.
Trying to keep their private lives out of the public eye, Rachel’s parents quickly guided her toward the front porch. Once inside Rachel’s anguish only increased.
Amidst the drama, neither Patricia nor Rusty noticed Rachel’s iPod. She held the device in her hand, FaceTiming everything live to Shelia. If they had realized that, they might have been less worried about what their neighbors could hear and more worried about what Shelia might witness.
Patricia Shoaf has authorized her best friend Liz to share the details of Rachel’s meltdown. Unlike earlier reports claiming Patricia was on top of Rachel on the floor, Liz says it was the other way around. Rachel punched Patricia in the eye and threw an unlit candelabra against a wall. In the ensuing melee Patricia and Rusty were both injured when they fell down the steps trying to get their daughter under control.
While Rachel raged in the background, Patricia called 911.
In the audio recording, she sounds remarkably calm. “I have an issue with a 16-year-old daughter of mine. We can’t control her anymore,” Patricia said. “She’s hitting us. She’s screaming. She’s running through the neighborhood.”
It sounds like Patricia is talking to Rachel next, when she says, “Give me the phone. Give me the phone.”
Rachel’s screams punctuate the 911 call, until Patricia is heard telling her, “No. No. This is over. This is over.”
More screams erupt from Rachel before Patricia tells the dispatcher, “My husband’s trying to contain her. Please hurry.”
As Patricia hung up, Rachel bolted upstairs and into her bedroom. She locked the door and began kicking holes in it. Rusty ran after her but she shoved her dresser in front of the door.
At this point, Rachel’s screams were so loud a neighbor went to his window to see where the noise was coming from. That’s when he heard Rachel threaten to take her own life.
“You’ve ruined my life,” Rachel insisted between sobs. “I’m going to kill myself!”
Rusty managed to get inside and, despite her threats, by the time police arrived Rachel was subdued, sitting on the living room couch.
According to 911 logs, the State Police arrived at 7:10 P.M., two minutes after Patricia called. Rachel sat there without moving while the two troopers explained to Rusty and Patricia how they could take their daughter to the hospital and ask for a mental hygiene hearing. Rachel was eerily silent.
Patricia wanted Rachel arrested but the troopers explained only deputy sheriffs have that authority. Instead, they encouraged Rachel’s parents to seek medical help. Patricia and Rusty took their advice, loaded Rachel into the family car, and drove her to the hospital.
Shelia told Shania all about Rachel’s breakdown, but she framed it as a violent family fight. She said Rachel’s screams grew so shrill that Tara rushed into Shelia’s bedroom to investigate. By then, Rachel was yelling, “Help me! Help me!”
Shelia raced to the emergency room and waited four hours, trying to find out what was happening to Rachel. Her December 28 tweets, wow literally worst night of my life and ugh hope my girl @_racchh is okay <3 loveee youuu show Shelia’s concern.
Shania later said by the time Shelia was allowed to see Rachel, “her face was all bruised and knotted and swollen, and she had marks all over her.”
Loved ones who saw Patricia in the days following Rachel’s breakdown say her face was so badly discolored it took weeks for the bruising to disappear.
thirty-five
“We Stabbed Her”
Patricia knew Rachel was going to miss her December 29 FBI interview, so she called Angotti and explained that Rachel was in Chestnut Ridge Center, the local psychiatric hospital. By then, Rachel’s attorney knew the reason the police were so insistent that Rachel come in again for questioning: Rachel’s story had changed. But Shelia’s hadn’t, at least not quickly enough.
“You need to bring Rachel to our office the minute she’s released. Not home,” Angotti told Patricia.
Liz says Patricia was told to go directly to Angotti’s office because the FBI and the U.S. Attorney’s Office needed to talk to her before Shelia began controlling Rachel again.
Due to cutbacks in the mental health system, unless a specific diagnosis merits a longer stay, the average length of time for anyone who has been committed to a psychiatric facility is three to seven days.
So on January 3, 2013, Rachel Shoaf walked out the front door of the local mental hospital a free individual, finally ready to take her polygraph test. Rachel was just in time for the climax, as the curtain opened on Act Three.
By then, police had heard rumors Skylar might have been killed in Pennsylvania. So the U.S. Attorney’s office took the lead in coordinating case interviews. The office rescheduled its December 29 meeting with Rachel, the FBI, and the WVSP. When Corporal Gaskins got word Rachel was being released from Chestnut Ridge, he was glad the teenager was going straight to her attorney’s office for another interview. He hoped they would get the truth this time—and he couldn’t wait to hear what it was.
Patricia and Rusty had looked forward to taking Rachel home, but once Angotti told them the federal government was calling the shots they found themselves being told what to do. They were eager to help if it meant Mary and Dave would learn the truth, too, and have the closure they deserved. So on that cold January day, the Shoafs drove their daughter straight to her attorney’s office downtown. Once there, Patricia and Rusty waited in the lobby while Rachel met with John Angotti, FBI Special Agent Rob Ambrosini, and Corporal Gaskins.
The State Police corporal was replaying the details of the case as he wove the cruiser through traffic. All the way across town, through the slush and snow still on the streets after the recent snowfall, he mulled over what Rachel might say. Gaskins had known the two girls were keeping a big secret, and the entire time he’d been working the case, he had hoped it would be that Skylar’s death had been accidental. He still believed that was true.
Gaskins hoped Rachel would tell them what really happened to Skylar so law enforcement would have some answers. Perhaps they would finally learn if Skylar’s disappearance was connected to the bank robberies. Had Darek killed her to cover up something she had learned? Or maybe it really was as simple as an overdose, and Rachel and Shelia had managed to keep quiet. Gaskins thought of all the hours he and Berry had logged and all the time Colebank and Spurlock had put in. He thought about the dozen or so extra city, state, and federal officers who had helped and, along the way, become engrossed by the case. Now everyone would learn the truth.
Gaskins walked into the law offices, his face a mask. He greeted Rusty and Patricia, who sat waiting in the lobby, and went back to the conference room, where Ambrosini was waiting. The men said their hellos, exchanging small pleasantries about the weather or work, then took their seats at the conference table. The tension in the air was palpable.
When Angotti led Rachel in, she looked nothing like the girl who
had stonewalled everyone for four months. She was shaking and she looked terrified. Rachel took the seat Angotti held out for her and immediately drew her legs up against her chest, hugging them tightly to her.
As soon as she began talking, Gaskins knew something was different. She no longer mentioned being too stoned to remember details. She wasn’t flippant or careless. Clearly this girl wanted to talk. Rachel Shoaf was finally ready to tell the truth.
We’re going to find out, he thought.
“I need a wastebasket, because I’m probably going to throw up,” Rachel said.
While Ambrosini, known as one of the most skilled polygraph examiners in the FBI, led the interview, Gaskins waited for the teen to say she and Shelia had given their friend some kind of drug, an overdose. Or Skylar had fallen and hit her head, and when they couldn’t wake her up, they’d gotten scared and left her behind. The seasoned investigator was expecting anything other than what he heard that day in Angotti’s conference room.
“Was there a party?” Ambrosini asked.
Rachel shook her head back and forth, indicating no.
“Did she overdose?”
Again, Rachel shook her head.
“Did she choke?”
Another shake of her head.
Ambrosini and Gaskins looked at each other. They needed to change tactics, since they were getting nowhere.
“Well, what did happen, Rachel?” Gaskins asked.
Something like a tiny grin, brought about by sheer terror, appeared on Rachel’s face. “We stabbed her.”
All three men almost fell out of their chairs. Ambrosini and Angotti were speechless. So was Gaskins.
He looked up from his written notes, staring directly into the teenager’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right.”
“Shelia and I, we stabbed Skylar,” Rachel said, her voice quivering and barely audible.
The pencil fell from Gaskins’ hand.
“Are you saying you killed Skylar Neese?” Gaskins asked in disbelief.
She nodded.
Rachel Shoaf bared her soul, finally relieved of her heavy burden. She told them everything, including the way Skylar managed to grab Rachel’s knife and used it to try and defend herself.
“I have the scar on my leg. Wanna see it?” With that, Rachel pulled up her pants leg—revealing a three-inch scar near her ankle.
After 181 days, Rachel held nothing back. She told them everything—everything except the reason they killed Skylar.
All Rachel would say is, “We just didn’t like her.”
After Gaskins and Ambrosini finished taking Rachel’s statement, a shaken Angotti called Rusty and Patricia back to a private room. There he told them he knew the girls caused Skylar’s death, but he didn’t know any details. Angotti said they would need several hours with Rachel and suggested the police bring Rachel home after she led them to Skylar. After Rachel’s mind-blowing revelation, Angotti honestly didn’t know if Rachel would even make it back home or if the authorities would keep her. Until she actually led them to Skylar, several variables were up in the air, including whether Skylar was buried in Pennsylvania or West Virginia.
“I’m afraid your daughter is directly involved in the murder of Skylar Neese,” Angotti finally said.
Stunned, Patricia’s mind began spinning, as she reflected on all the lies Rachel had told her since Skylar disappeared. She thought of Rachel’s future—and the life her beautiful, talented daughter had thrown away. One part of Patricia’s mind couldn’t accept what Angotti was saying. The other part knew it was true. Patricia crumpled to the floor, weeping.
Gaskins and Monongalia County Prosecuting Attorney Marcia Ashdown both knew after six months outdoors, exposed to the harsh elements, the crime scene and Skylar’s remains weren’t likely to yield much evidence for court. The best police could hope for was that there would be enough left to identify.
“Going to be a lot of snow in the woods,” Ambrosini said as he and Gaskins were getting ready to go. Ambrosini’s backup had arrived and was waiting in the parking lot outside the law offices. “Might not even be able to search.”
Angotti had Rachel in his office, awaiting Gaskins’ signal. It was time for Rachel to give them more than words—leading police to the body was the only way to prove she was telling the truth.
Driving the first of two cars, Gaskins thought Ambrosini might be right. Conditions didn’t look promising. The farther out of town they drove, headed northwest, the more the snow piled up on the sides of the road. Rachel rode in the back seat of the lead car so she could direct Gaskins where to turn when it came time. Angotti sat up front with Gaskins. The second car, with the two FBI agents, trailed close behind the State Police cruiser.
During her confession, Rachel claimed Shelia disposed of the knives, their bloody clothes, Skylar’s purse and iPod, the shovel, and the other tools the two girls had used to try to hide their crime. When Rachel said she had no idea where any of those items could be, she seemed sincere. But she had agreed to lead police to Skylar’s body in exchange for a plea deal.
On the way there, after passing through Blacksville and turning off onto a narrow gravel road, Gaskins knew they were about to cross into Greene County, Pennsylvania. No one else was surprised, since most of the twisting back roads in that part of the county snaked back and forth between West Virginia and Pennsylvania. Rachel had been up there partying many times before, so she was pretty sure the spot was in Pennsylvania.
Both cars turned onto Morris Run Road, a narrow country lane composed of asphalt and gravel. The entire terrain was bathed in white that cold January day as gravel crunched softly under the vehicle tires. Less than two miles in, along an isolated stretch, Rachel told them to stop. The officers, the lawyer, and the suspect got out. All eyes were on Rachel, as she surveyed the white forest, first turning this way, then that. But it was two seasons later, in the dead of winter, and everything looked much different than it had in July. Finally, she admitted she couldn’t tell where she and Shelia had left Skylar.
Gaskins and Ambrosini discussed how to proceed. In those kinds of conditions, who knew how long it would take to find Skylar? If they found her. They hated to admit it, but they had no choice: they would have to wait until the snow was gone.
The neighbors who saw Patricia and Rusty drive away not long after Rachel’s return didn’t understand why they would leave their daughter, newly released from a psychiatric hospital, home alone. They had heard Rachel’s suicidal threats, and could only assume Rachel must be greatly improved for her parents to feel it was safe to leave Rachel behind. Evidently, they didn’t see the strange cars scattered around in nearby driveways, or the police officers crouched down inside those unmarked vehicles, so the neighbors had no way of knowing Rachel was anything but alone.
Rachel texted Shelia saying her parents were gone so she could come over—just as Gaskins and Ambrosini had instructed. Then she sat back to wait, trying not to let her frayed nerves get the best of her. It had been a very long day—but it was far from over.
After five full days at Chestnut Ridge, she had left the hospital, gone to Angotti’s office and told them about killing Skylar, agreed to help police catch her best friend saying something incriminating, and then led them to the place where she and Shelia had killed Skylar. Rachel knew what she needed—the best actress face she had in her repertoire—and it had better be in place before Shelia arrived.
The authorities say Shelia, of course, didn’t know any of that. So Shelia probably stared out the passenger window as her mom drove toward the Shoafs’ neighborhood, thinking about Rachel’s hospitalization. It must have really unnerved her—God only knew what they’d done to Rachel while she’d been in that place, or how they had tried to brainwash her, but she was out now, and Shelia was anxious to see her best friend and lover. Since it was the first time she and Rachel had been separated since Rachel started falling apart, Shelia would have had a ton of questions. She was also worried Patricia
and Rusty wouldn’t let Rachel hang out with her. Not now.
She didn’t know how much time they’d have. It was evening, and Rachel told Shelia her parents wouldn’t be gone long. Tara planned to drop Shelia off and wait for her, killing time by circling the block until Shelia came out again. The cul-de-sac was tiny, and Tara didn’t want to attract any attention by parking too close to the Shoafs’. She knew the neighborhood was full of gossips, so word would easily reach Patricia’s ears. Or what if Patricia and Rusty sensed Shelia and Rachel were up to something and turned around and came right back? When they pulled in front of Rachel’s house, Shelia breathed a sigh of relief: neither Shoaf vehicle was there.
Shelia had tried at least twice to see Rachel inside Chestnut Ridge. She was so persistent, security had to turn her away repeatedly. The first time was on a day set aside specifically for family visitation. Usually friends can visit, too, but only with permission from the patient or—in the case of minors—the parents. Patricia had left strict orders: “Family ONLY.”
Shelia learned this when Tara dropped her off and she went inside the red-brick medical facility, where she was told her name wasn’t on the list of approved visitors. It didn’t make any sense. Before, she would have been family. Shelia wasn’t sure what was going on. Still, she tried and tried—but failed to get past security.
When Patricia arrived to visit her daughter, she was surprised to see Tara waiting outside in her car. She immediately asked why Tara was there—where Tara was, so was Shelia—and sure enough, when Patricia walked into Chestnut Ridge, there was Shelia.
“What are you doing here? I told you only family,” Patricia told Shelia.
Pretty Little Killers Page 21