As soon as he left the jail, Farese called Leslie Ballin, an attorney in Memphis whom he’d worked with on other cases. “Do you want to come to Selmer?”
“All right. How much is the retainer fee?” Ballin asked.
“It’s pro bono.”
“Steve, hold on, there must be something wrong with my cell phone. I thought I heard you say pro bono. Are you crazy?”
“Leslie, it’s the right thing to do.” Steve outlined all of his reasons and Ballin signed on for the case. Mary Winkler now had a high-powered defense team.
Sunday morning was a somber one at the Fourth Street Church of Christ as members gathered for their first service after Matthew’s death. Sharon Pinckley, who taught the first- and second-grade Sunday school class, looked across the hall and realized nobody was there to teach the 2- and 3-year-olds. It was Mary Winkler’s group and no one thought to find a substitute.
In adult Bible class, church elder Robert Shackleford warned the group not to speculate about why their popular young minister was killed. “Perhaps over time, we will better understand why this has happened. Be very cautious about what you say or even what you think.” Rumors and gossip are destructive forces, he told them. “The simple fact is that no one knows why, except maybe for Mary herself.”
He urged the congregation to pray for the children, their grandparents and Mary Winkler. “Mary is a member of this church family, and we may be some of the closest family she has at this point. Forgiveness is a cornerstone of our faith. If we don’t have forgiveness, then we don’t have anything.”
The sanctuary was filled with flowers as well as worshipers for the morning service. The church’s youth ministry group presented the most dramatic arrangement—sixty-two yellow roses—one for each of the children in the congregation.
Church elder Drew Eason led the congregation in a prayer for help from their Father to get through this difficult ordeal, and said, “Thank you, Lord, for the time we had with Matthew Winkler.” He prayed, too, for Mary: “We ask that she would confess her sins and repent in such a way that she will ultimately have a home with you.”
After a tearful rendition of “No Tears in Heaven,” church elder and McNairy County Mayor Wilburn Ashe spoke. “We are here this morning with heavy hearts. Our emotions are running high.” He reminded the members that little was known about the murder. The only things they knew with certainty were that Matthew Winkler was dead, his wife was in jail and their children were without their parents. “These three little girls we know do not have a daddy right now, and for all practical purposes, they don’t have a momma. Those children have got a good home that they’re in, but it’s not Momma and Daddy.” He warned of the dangers of speculation and loose talk. “We’ve got to do two things. We’ve got to remain close to God and we’ve got to remain close to one another.”
Jeremy Weekley came down from Freed-Hardeman University in Henderson to deliver that morning’s sermon. “God knows exactly what we are going through,” he comforted the audience. Echoing the message of a song sung earlier by the congregation, he quoted from Revelation 21:4: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed.” He then added, “The present tribulations are no comparison to that which lies ahead for us.”
After that harsh warning, he reassured them that their church would survive these tragic events. “This life is not all there is, there is something more.”
At the Huntingdon Church of Christ, the elders assumed Dan Winkler would not be available to preach that day, and arranged for a substitute. But Dan rose in the pulpit and delivered a sermon about love, kindness, gratitude and forgiveness. He expressed appreciation for the 400 members who filled the pews. “We love no one more than we love you.”
He thanked law enforcement officials and the news media for their assistance in locating his granddaughters and said, “I’m thankful for the Huntingdon Church of Christ and the town of Huntingdon. What wonderful support that Huntingdon will give these three precious babies.” He spoke of his gratitude for America itself, saying that calls have come from all over and people have traveled hundreds of miles to embrace them and weep with them for a short time.
Dan talked about the challenges facing him and Diane in raising his grandchildren, but added, “I look forward to being a daddy again.” He thanked God for the time he had with his son and cried as he talked about the man he’d raised. “I know the kind of husband and father he was and what a man he truly was.”
Sunday afternoon visitation at the jail ran from 1 until 3 in the afternoon. Dorothy Weatherford entered the sparse visiting area, containing only a soft-drink machine, a bench and one table. When Mary was brought from her cell, Dorothy moved into place in front of the window. They each picked up a telephone receiver on opposite sides of the Plexiglas. Dorothy said, “Mary, I wish you could have looked to me and trusted me and told me, ‘Hey, there’s problems.’ I’m old enough to be your mother. I wish you would have come to me to fill that role when you had trouble.”
Another church member visiting Mary that day was Pam Killingsworth. She told Mary that everyone was praying for her.
“I loved him so much,” Mary whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything. I hope everyone will forgive me.”
“Mary, if things were so tough, why didn’t you talk to me, or someone from the church?”
Mary hung her head and shook it back and forth. “I don’t know.”
“Keep praying,” Pam urged her.
“I know,” Mary said. “God is going to take care of us.”
Selmer had not seen this amount of attention from the rest of the world since four tornadoes ravaged western and central Tennessee, killing four people in McNairy County in 1991. The one that touched down in Selmer ripped through town, cutting off all the power for days. One man died, crushed between two vehicles in a used car lot. More than thirty residents received treatment at the local hospital, and dozens more were transported to hospitals outside of the county.
That was on March 22, 1991, fifteen years to the day before Matthew Winkler died. Once again, events on March 22 drew the eyes of the nation to this small town and its people.
In the decade-and-a-half since that disaster, life passed by unnoticed by anyone outside of the county. As Russ Ingle wrote in the Independent Appeal:
McNairy County, with its hot summers and long winters, has bred for generations a way of life that had at its center a need to endure. Here we wave at people we don’t know, drink sweet tea and like our catfish with lemon and onion. Beauty pageants, benefits and church on Sunday are part of the very fabric in this small community. Here a trip to Wal-Mart is as much a social gathering as a necessity.
In the wake of Matthew Winkler’s death, all things small town suddenly vanished. The violence that occurred in one moment’s time resulted in the eyes of a nation peering into our once vaguely known existence.
On the afternoon of Monday, March 27, Mary wore shackles and clutched attorney Steve Farese’s hand as deputies escorted her into the small courtroom of General Sessions Court Judge Bob Gray just down the hall from the jail. They made an odd couple walking together to the table. Farese, with his wattled neck and gray sweep of hair combed over his bald spot, towered over his short, dark-haired, doe-eyed client.
She sat by Farese’s side for her arraignment with her head down and her back to the audience. She did not once glance at her father or at the row behind her, filled with members of the church. The women there sobbed and dabbed their eyes with tissues throughout the proceedings. The courtroom was full, with reporters and photographers occupying most of the other seats.
The judge opened the proceedings by addressing Mary directly. In a warm Southern drawl, he said, “Ms. Winkler, the purpose of having you here today is for the court to advise you of certain rights that you have with the charges filed against you. And I know that Steve Farese is an experienced attorney and has probably gone
over this with you already, but it’s my responsibility to go over them with you again.
“In addition to advising you of your rights, we’re going to set the matter of a preliminary hearing. Ms. Winkler, the state of tennessee versus Mary Carol Winkler…you are charged with first-degree murder.”
He then read the affidavit of complaint to her and advised her of her right to counsel, to remain silent and to have a preliminary hearing. “Do you have any questions?”
Mary raised her head and delivered the only two words she spoke in court that day in a firm, determined voice. “No, sir.”
After a discussion between Gray and the attorneys at the bar, the judge announced that any discussion about bail would be delayed until the preliminary hearing scheduled for Thursday, March 30. In five minutes, the arraignment proceedings were over and Mary was escorted back to jail.
Clark Freeman, Mary’s father, left the courtroom with a sheriff’s deputy, who took him to a private office. En route, he responded to reporters’ shouted questions, saying that his daughter was doing “as well as she can.” But he would say no more.
Prosecutor Elizabeth Rice didn’t have much to say to the journalists either, telling them only that all the evidence would be presented in court later. When asked about motive, she said, “I just think it’s important for us to let this play out in court and not get into specific details of what it is or what her rationale is for it.”
To the media’s great disappointment, the defense attorneys weren’t much more forthcoming. Leslie Ballin declined to answer questions about Mary’s state of mind, but said that the defense might order a psychological exam. Steve Farese said that investigators had not told him what motive, if any, Mary had given them. When asked about marital problems, he said, “Have you ever been in a relationship? They all have some problems.”
The media engulfed the church members as they emerged from the courthouse. Most of them did not speak, but Anita Whirley said, “It hurts us very much, but we’re going to stand behind her one hundred percent. I told a sheriff’s deputy, anything she needs, we’ll get for her.”
Janet Sparks reiterated the church’s support for their former preacher’s wife, saying, “Mary is a sweet child and we just love her.”
Chapter 22
Monday evening, Tom Cauley, director of the McNairy County Chamber of Commerce, was preparing to leave his office in the building next to the Shackleford Funeral Home when he heard an unusually high level of traffic noise outside. He investigated and discovered that his car was blocked by satellite trucks and other media vehicles arriving from every direction.
He approached the vehicles hemming him in and said to the drivers, “If you all will just let me move my car, you can have my whole parking lot.” It wasn’t sleepy old Selmer any longer. With Matthew’s funeral scheduled for Tuesday, he wondered if he’d be able to get to work.
At the funeral home, a line of mourners snaked through the building and out the door. One hundred people stood inside. Another hundred and fifty queued up on the sidewalk.
There was no grieving widow to comfort and hug. Mary’s absence—and the reason for it—added to the oppressive atmosphere in the room where Matthew lay in a bed of satin.
Patricia and Allie, accompanied by a flock of family members, walked over to the casket. The girls sobbed and reached out to stroke his cheek, pat his head, touch his hands. Patricia cried out, “Daddy, why did you leave us?”
The adults around her fell into painful silence. As her Great Aunt Linda put an arm around her shoulder, a moan, deep and heavy, laden with sorrow, rose from Patricia’s throat. All across the viewing room, hearts broke at the terrible sound of the small child’s immense pain.
The next morning, with the approval of Dan and Diane Winkler and law enforcement, Mary was escorted from her jail cell to the funeral chapel. The widow stood by her husband’s casket alone and cried silent tears before being taken back to lock-up.
Soon after that visit, Mary’s attorney Steve Farese appeared on the Today show. He said his client was “very detached from the gravity of the overall situation, very reserved, very quiet, very confused and overwhelmed.”
Hundreds gathered at the Fourth Street Church of Christ for the 11 A.M. funeral service of Matthew Brian Winkler. The 500-seat sanctuary was filled to capacity. In a room in the church basement, the overflow crowd watched the service on closed-circuit television monitors.
News media were not allowed inside. As a local, Independent Appeal reporter Russell Ingle would have been admitted, but he chose not to enter the sanctuary. He didn’t know Matthew personally and didn’t want to make anyone there uncomfortable because of his job.
Dan and Diane Winkler followed Matthew’s flower-covered casket into the church. With them were the three innocent and bewildered young girls, 8-year-old Patricia, 6-year-old Allie and 1-year-old Breanna.
The two oldest went up to the coffin again and touched their father. When she returned to the pew, Patricia asked her grandmother, “Nana, will the police find the person that killed my daddy?”
“Yes,” she assured her, “the police will get the person who killed your daddy.”
“Nana, that person broke my heart,” the little girl said.
Dan Winkler and family friend Eddie Thompson led the service. Dan had conducted many funeral ceremonies in his long years as a preacher, but never thought he’d do so for one of his own sons. Matthew’s brothers Daniel and Jacob each read a passage from scripture. Dan delivered the eulogy, sharing memories of his son from his birth to his death. There were occasional light anecdotes, but most of his talk bore a serious tone as he reflected on Matthew as a devoted husband and father. “Matthew was a fine, loving person, but his life was cut short,” he said as intense emotion crackled through his voice.
At 11:55, the mourners exited from the church to confront a mob of media. Most ignored the cameras and microphones pointed in their direction. Eddie Thompson, though, paused to respond to questions about Matthew’s daughters. He said, “They’re having peaks and valleys, but by and large, they’re incredibly happy. We love these girls dearly.” He gave details about the special fund, set up under Tennessee’s Minor’s Trust laws, to pay for the necessary counseling and education for the three fatherless girls. Elders of the Fourth Street Church of Christ paid for the expense of the fund’s website so that more money could go to Patricia, Allie and Breanna.
Many of those who attended that morning followed the funeral procession on its sixty-mile route to Carroll Memorial Gardens on Highway 22 in McKenzie, near the elder Winklers’ home in Huntingdon. By his son’s final resting place, Dan said, “Our family isn’t the first to go through something like this. King David lost two sons at the hands of others. God Himself knows what this is like.”
In fifteen minutes, Dan closed the graveside ceremony with prayer. He hugged and kissed each of his three granddaughters. Patricia and Allie both picked a flower from the elaborate arrangement on top of the casket, holding them close to their chests as they returned to the car.
Chapter 23
The courtroom in Selmer filled again on Thursday, March 30, for the scheduled preliminary hearing. Before the proceedings began, Mary’s father Clark stepped up to the defense table, placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and cradled the left side of her neck. He whispered into her right ear. Mary nodded in response.
When the court was called to order, Steve Farese addressed the judge. “May it please the court, Your Honor, at this time, after conversing with my client and co-counsel, we have decided to waive this opportunity for a preliminary hearing.”
Judge Gray turned to Mary. “Ms. Winkler, would you stand for a moment, please? As I mentioned before, you are represented by very experienced and capable attorneys, but I need to make sure that you do understand that you are knowingly and voluntarily waiving your right to a preliminary hearing after having a chance to speak to Mr. Ballin and Mr. Farese. Is it your desire at this point to waive your right
to a preliminary hearing?”
In a child-like voice, Mary said, “Yes, sir.”
After a brief sidebar, the judge made sure Mary understood that her case would be remanded to a grand jury. “I also understand from your attorney that you will not be seeking bond today.”
“That is correct, Your Honor,” Farese answered for his client.
The grand jury set to meet in June would decide if there was enough evidence to support the murder charge.
On the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, Farese and Ballin paused to speak with the media. When the reporters asked why they did not want a preliminary or bail hearing for Mary, Farese said, “She still has trouble focusing on important issues.”
Ballin added, “Her condition is pretty fragile right now, and we are concerned about it. Also, a case like this, where Mary’s state of mind at the time of the event is an issue, we want to have a forensic psychological examination, and it should be done real soon. And we think it’s in her best interests to not have bail right now.
“I want to say something else: In this type of case, it’s like a marathon. This is not a sprint. We are going to come out of this, as you’ve seen today, very slowly and methodically, and hopefully we’re going to do the right thing for Mary’s case.”
Farese interrupted. “There is another consideration here, also. And that’s the consideration of the Winkler children. We feel it does no one any good to hear bad things about the mother of children. We don’t think it does anyone good to hear gruesome things about their late father. We don’t think it does Matthew Winkler’s parents, kin, people, any good to have to suffer any more than they’ve already suffered.
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