In addition to football, Matthew liked swimming, going to movies and playing Nintendo. He was active in the Lads to Leaders program at his church. He got involved in the puppet teams—putting on shows designed to tell the story of the Gospel to children—public speaking and Bible reading, and traveled to Nashville for competition with teenagers from other churches. He took to speaking in public as if he’d been born for the pulpit.
Matthew’s charismatic personality came to the fore-front in these years. He was well-liked by fellow students, but he never had a steady girlfriend. His high school friend and football teammate Scott Fuller told The Jackson Sun, “I think more than anything I remember about Matthew was his love for life. He was always a comedian. He never got down about anything.”
His universal popularity compelled his classmates to elect him “Mr. Austin” in his senior year. He received another honor when he was named one of the escorts for the school’s Miss Bruin Pageant. He wasn’t as intense academically as his older brother. Daniel usually received straight A’s. Matthew was a solid A and B student, though. He graduated in 1993.
After graduation, Matthew felt a call to the ministry. Although Dan and Diane were careful not to pressure any of their children to take this path, they were delighted. Dan said, “We told all three of our sons if they wanted to preach, we would help them any way we can, and if you do not, we will help you any way we can.”
Matthew followed his older brother to Freed-
Hardeman University in Henderson, Tennessee, a small town of 5,600 located between Selmer and Huntingdon. It was a pretty, compact campus sitting on a hilltop, the clusters of converted old houses and newer brick buildings broken up by green space and trees.
The church’s influence over campus life was apparent. “Modesty and appropriateness” were mandated in clothing and hair styles. Unless actively engaged in athletic activity, students were prohibited from wearing shorts in public. Attendance at chapel was a daily requirement. There were separate dormitories for male and female students. Only once during the school year were students allowed to go into the dorms of the opposite sex. That was on Halloween, where they were allowed to trick-or-treat at each other’s residences.
In 1994, Matthew’s parents moved from Georgia to Nashville, where Dan served eleven years as the pulpit preacher of the 1,300-member Crieve Hall Church of Christ. One year later, Matthew met and fell for another student, a year older than he was. After dating her for three months, Matthew knew it was serious. In October 1995, she placed a call to her mother and father saying she was coming home for a visit, and bringing along someone she wanted them to meet. Before the weekend was over, Matt asked Clark Freeman for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Six months later, wearing her mother’s satin wedding gown, and preceded by nine pink-gowned bridesmaids, she walked down the aisle. Matthew sealed his fate on April 20, 1996, when he recited his wedding vows in Knoxville, marrying Mary Carol Freeman.
Chapter 10
At the end of the academic year, the newlyweds both dropped out of school to save up money. They moved to the Knoxville area and into a tiny apartment in Louisville, a small town outside of the city. Matthew got a construction job working for his new father-in-law.
That summer, Matthew started shouting and yelling at his wife on a regular basis. Mary never understood what she did to provoke that behavior. Perhaps he was uncomfortable being dependent on Mary’s father for his paycheck. Perhaps he was bitter about terminating his schooling. Whatever the cause, an angry Matthew was intimidating. At 6'1", he was still built like the linebacker he once was. Riled up, he paced the floor and waved his arms around—seeming to be everywhere at once. When making a point, he’d poke his fingers inches from Mary’s nose. If she stood up for herself, he’d say, “That’s your ugly coming out.”
On one occasion, he sat her down and shouted, “You are my wife and we are a family now! Quit inviting your brothers and sisters over, and stop going over there all the time!”
They eventually returned to Henderson, where Matthew continued his education and Mary became the family breadwinner. She got a full-time job in the deli at Piggly Wiggly. Their first child, Patricia Diane Winkler—named for Mary’s deceased sister and Matthew’s mother—was born in the Jackson–Madison County General Hospital at 3 o’clock in the afternoon of September 30, 1997.
Matthew graduated with a degree in Biblical Studies in 1998 and accepted a job as youth minister at the Goodwood Boulevard Church of Christ in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It was the first time Mary ever lived outside of Tennessee and she grew more homesick with each passing day. Matthew was not happy, either, being so far from his family. He searched for a new opportunity in his home state.
Mary’s feelings of separation grew even more intense when her mother’s life began to fade with the onset of cancer. Mary was pregnant with her second child when her mother passed away on April 10, 1999. With the death of Mary Nell, Mary’s adopted siblings turned to her for help, guidance and comfort even more than before.
Matthew found a new youth minister position at the Bellevue Church of Christ in Nashville in June of 1999. He and Mary purchased a 1,300-square-foot home, still under construction, for $132,350 in Pegram, a town of 2,100 residents just nine miles from the church.
They moved back to Tennessee just in time for the birth of their second daughter. On Saturday, July 10, the furniture arrived at their new apartment and Mary began unpacking her household. On Tuesday, she went into labor. Mary Alice—named for Mary’s mother and Matthew’s great-grandmother—was born on Wednesday, July 14, five weeks premature. They nicknamed the baby girl Allie.
Their new home in the quiet hilltop neighborhood on Elkmont Place in the Grandview Heights subdivision was ready in September. It was not a good time for Mary. She was still grieving for her mother, suffering from a case of post-partum blues and caring for a toddler and an infant. Soon after, Matthew invited Mary’s sisters and brothers for a visit at their new home.
Mary’s family griped a lot about their infrequent visits with their sister. They were not pleased with Matthew’s answer to their complaints: “Mary is not your sister like she was your sister when you were growing up. She is married now. She has two children now. Her responsibility is here, with her new family.”
He was angry at their demands on Mary. The passion he brought to the football field and to the pulpit felt oversized when it was revealed in a small roomful of people. The Freeman clan left Pegram with the feeling that Matthew was controlling, domineering and mean. Where did Mary stand in this confrontation? Did she resent Matthew’s interference with her family? In later years, she would agree with her siblings’ view, but, at the time, she appeared to side with her husband; friends recalled the negative comments she made about her family at the time.
Parishioners at Bellevue Church of Christ developed contradictory impressions of their new youth minister and his wife. One would say that Mary was the friendlier of the two. Another would insist that Mary was an odd person with poorly developed social skills.
The conflicting opinions may have been the result of Mary’s unsettled state of mind, which led to dramatic mood swings. She was again coping with the childhood loss of her sister—feelings resurrected when her mother died. Two back-to-back pregnancies exacted an emotional toll. Adjusting to two new neighborhoods and two new congregations in a short span of time created additional strain.
To complicate her life even further, soon after they moved into their new home, Matthew invited his college roommate, Glenn Jones and his wife, Brandy, to live with them while construction took place on their house next door. Four adults and two children crowded the Winklers’ small home.
Mary wasn’t the only one under the gun. Matthew felt driven by an intense, self-imposed pressure to further his career, to have his own church, to be something more than a youth minister. It was a matter of living up to his father’s example, as well as earning a sufficient salary to support his growing family.
C
ommitted to monogamy and the sanctity of marriage, Matthew also discovered an uncomfortable fact—he and Mary were sexually incompatible. Matthew wanted to experiment. Mary was more traditional. When they were outside of the bedroom discussing various practices, Mary spoke her mind about acts that she did not want to do—that she didn’t feel were natural.
Matthew agreed not to do anything that made her uncomfortable during sex but in the throes of passion, he often went back on his word. Nonetheless, Mary said that if she pushed him away or even made the smallest involuntary flinch, he always backed off. However, on those occasions that she gave no indication that she wanted him to stop, he continued.
Later, they rehashed the problem. Mary re-stated her objections. Matthew once again agreed to abstain from practices she didn’t like—and then he’d lose sight of it in the heat of the moment. It was a never-ending cycle of disparate desires and expectations.
A scary event rocked the Winkler home in the spring of 2001. Matthew had tooth trouble and his dentist prescribed pain medication. The drug did not interact well with Matthew’s system, and it resulted in ugly side effects. Matthew grew paranoid, convinced that someone—perhaps Mary—was out to kill him. He threatened to cut her brake lines. Then, in a fit of rage, he picked up a recliner and tossed it on its side. Mary called Matt’s younger brother Jacob, but he was a thirty- to forty-minute drive away. Matt was ranting and raving, and Mary knew something had to be done immediately.
She slipped out of the house and heard Matthew lock the door behind her. With curlers in her hair, she ran across lawns to Glenn and Brandy’s home. Brandy said Mary arrived laughing about Matt’s behavior. Mary would say that she was ashamed by Matt and was “blowing it off” for the sake of her own pride.
The Joneses had a spare key to the Winklers’ home. Glenn grabbed it and walked back over with Mary. He unlocked the door, ready to confront a violent Matthew. By the time they arrived, though, Matt’s rage had dissipated and he was stumbling around in a daze. Jacob arrived a short while later. Both men spent the night watching over Matthew, making sure he would be okay.
Mary said that her husband was angry and threatening during their years in Pegram, but, she insisted, he was never physically violent with her—that didn’t happen, she said, until they moved to McMinnville. Still, years later, Mary recalled McMinnville with great fondness, but described Pegram as a “hard place.”
Chapter 11
Matthew believed he’d made an advancement in his career when he secured a position as youth minister at the Central Church of Christ in McMinnville, Tennessee, in 2002. When he applied for the job, a church elder informed him that they expected he’d step up to the pulpit minister position when their current preacher left in two or three years. Matthew accepted the offer with his eye on the ultimate prize—one day in the near future, having his own church.
McMinnville, heralded as the Nursery Capital of the World for its vast plant and tree industry, and hometown of country and western star Dottie West, had a population of more than 13,000 when Matthew and Mary moved there with their two little girls. Matthew’s new employer, the Central Church of Christ, was housed in a building constructed in 1928 on the grounds of the original old courthouse at the corner of Morford and College Streets. Just a short walk away, down sidewalks lined with old brick buildings, a small city park stood, filled with century-old stately maples, graceful elms, a sparkling fountain and an abundance of flowers in the spring and summer.
They bought an $85,000 home on Franklin Street. Once again, when they moved, Mary was pregnant. This time, however, she was not as far along and the pregnancy ended in miscarriage late in the first trimester.
They quickly became friends with an older couple across the street, Bob and Evon Dennis. Bob and Evon were Baptists, but that never interfered with the relationship between the two couples. In fact, Bob and Matt engaged in frequent, friendly debates on theological issues.
Evon enjoyed the energetic and perky Mary Winkler, but was especially drawn to the two little girls. She had her own grandchildren, but they were all boys. Patricia and Allie became surrogate granddaughters. Evon doted on them, remembering them with gifts every Christmas and birthday.
She loved watching them at play outside the house. When they spotted her, they’d stop, wave and yell greetings across the street. “They were both sweet girls—small and adorable. Patricia was very talkative. Allie was quieter.”
Matthew and Mary were always on the run. Matt’s position as youth minister required him to be away from home quite often in the summer as he took trips with the teenagers in his care. Year round, he had evening and weekend activities with them, and frequently entertained groups in his home.
Matthew faced a big challenge at Central Church of Christ. His predecessor had had a very lax demeanor, more interested in being friends with the teenagers than their mentor. He’d made no rules, set no boundaries and provided no structure. Matthew got the kids and the program back into shape.
Matthew could be stern and authoritative at times, but he kept them from losing control without being bossy. The teens appreciated always knowing where they stood with him and what he expected of them. Most of them looked up to him as an energizing and inspiring Christian leader. There were two or three teens who bumped heads with him, but that was to be expected when working with adolescents.
Mary pitched in with Matt’s meetings and activities, and often ran errands for the youth group. She found the energy to visit with the house bound elderly church members and to sit with the sick. She made birthday cards on the computer and sent them out to all the church members. She cared for two children and her home as well as working part-time, first at Super D drug store, and later at the post office, where she was a valued employee. The pharmacy owner, Donald Sullivan, wrote, “She was a very reliable and dependable employee that worked well with other employees and was well liked by our customers.”
Bob and Evon, like many of the neighbors on Franklin Street, saw Mary and Matthew as loving and hard-working, and excellent role models for the other married couples. But Mary recalled it as a challenging time.
In August that first summer, Mary played catcher on the church softball team. At one point, a ball careened off a bat and hit her in the face, leaving a distinct bruise. She didn’t go to the doctor.
Later that week, according to Mary, Matthew was shouting at her for some perceived wrong-doing when he knocked something off a table. Mary bent down to pick it up, and, she would later allege, Matthew kicked her in the face. She said that was when her face really started to hurt.
A week later, the lightest touch caused excruciating pain. Finally, Mary visited her physician. In his office, Mary explained the softball injury. She never mentioned any physical abuse from her husband. The doctor never suspected anything was amiss with Mary’s story.
Soon after that incident, Mary confronted Matthew. “I want a divorce,” she said.
“Absolutely not.”
“I can’t take it anymore, Matthew.”
“A divorce will not be allowed.”
“You tell me I’m fat, my hair isn’t right. If something goes wrong with the girls, it’s my fault. If it rains, it’s my fault. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“If you leave, I’ll come and get you.”
Chapter 12
In 2003, Matthew got the opportunity to earn additional money by teaching Bible classes at the Boyd Christian School. This private institution covered all levels of lower education from pre-kindergarten through the twelfth grade. Students received Bible instruction each school day.
The goal of the state-accredited school was to provide a quality education with more course offerings than available in public schools, and to do so in a more disciplined and safer environment. All high-schoolers studied a college preparatory curriculum. The school did not offer alternative paths, like technical or business, for a diploma. In addition to their education, the faculty fostered the students’ spiritual development
and growth.
Matthew was a welcome addition to the school. His students called him “Wink” and, although they knew he demanded that they study hard and behave, he also brought a lot of fun into the classroom. He was a creative and engaging teacher.
He got along well with the staff, too. Linda Love, an English, Journalism and foreign language teacher, said that he was a charismatic man, and a loving and doting father. She told The Jackson Sun, “Every time he talked, he had something positive to say about the kids, something positive to say about his family. He often commented on the girls, Patricia and Allie. He would tell about cute things they did.” She added that he was always true to himself and never put on airs. “He had such a young heart, but an old soul.”
She believed the Winkler couple had a wonderful relationship. She recalled Matthew and Mary trading affectionate looks on the General Jackson Showboat on the Cumberland River at a Christmas party sponsored by Super D drug store. “They seemed very loving, very close. It was a chilly night and I saw him wrap his coat around her.”
Robert Jefferies, minister of the Smyrna Church of Christ in McMinnville, had a high opinion of Matthew and his relationship with his wife, too. Matthew worked with his congregation on several occasions, earning their affection and respect. He remembered once arriving at the Winkler home with Matthew. “We had come over just as she was getting ready to head back out to work,” he told reporter Tonya Smith-King. “They hugged and kissed one another goodbye.”
The older congregants at Central Church of Christ didn’t have as much contact with Matthew as the younger ones did. Nonetheless, many had fond memories of his years at the church. Unlike some youth ministers, Matthew had time and a kind word for everyone.
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