Murder in Boston (12 page)

Presumably Chuck drove away from his meeting with Matthew and dialed 911. There has been speculation that he was particularly vague about his location in his conversation with Gary McLaughlin because he wanted to give Matthew plenty of time to get away before the police arrived. Considering the seriousness of Chuck’s wound, this is difficult to believe. Matthew, nevertheless, is not qualified to speak on the subject because he wasn’t there.

Matthew said he did not specifically notice Carol in the car. There may have been something in the front seat, he said, but he had no reason to think it was the body of his sister-in-law, who by then was breathing her last. Neither did he notice that Chuck was wounded or that he seemed to be in pain.

Matthew said once he was clear of the area he opened the bundle and saw that it contained a nickel-plated, snub-nosed revolver, a woman’s purse, and some assorted jewelry and makeup. The sight of the gun threw him into a panic, he said. That is when he sought McMahon’s help. Matthew and McMahon drove to an isolated area of Revere and walked out onto a railroad trestle, locally called the Dizzy Bridge, and tossed Chuck’s bundle into the Pines River. First Matthew pocketed Carol’s engagement ring because he thought Chuck might want to have that back, then he heaved the purse with its makeup and other jewelry into the cold, dark water. McMahon, exhibiting the form of a champion discus thrower, flung the gun.

Exhausted, but looking relieved, Matthew slumped on his chair. “That’s it,” he told the lawyers huddled around him. “That’s the story.”

“How do we know you’re telling us the truth?” one of the prosecutors asked.

In reply, Matthew dug into his pocket and pulled out a small object, which he laid on the table. It was Carol’s engagement ring, the 1.5-carat diamond glittering in the harsh overhead light.

If Matthew is ever required to tell his story in a courtroom where he would be subject to cross-examination, a good opposing attorney would have a field day. Just how much he knew and when he knew it is one area ripe for exploration. Even more so is what precisely happened on the night of October 23. At the time of transfer, how could Matthew
not
see Carol or notice that Chuck was wounded? Granted that Matthew’s motive would be to make his story to prosecutors as self-serving as possible, the account still strains credibility. For things to have happened under this scenario, which later was outlined to reporters by Matthew’s lawyer, Perenyi, Chuck would have to have shot Carol. Then he would have to have collected Carol’s purse and jewelry, plus his own belongings, and gathered everything into a bundle. Then he would have to have driven to the vacant where the keys were found and toss them out. Then he would have to have shot himself and driven to his rendezvous with Matthew. From there, a badly wounded and bleeding Chuck, who would have been in considerable pain, would have to have gone to a second location to pass the bundle. And
then
he would have to have driven still farther while he spent thirteen minutes on the car phone with Gary McLaughlin.

Authorities, claiming it would be a violation of privacy to reveal such details, have not helped to clear up reservations many have about the shooting by releasing information about Chuck’s and Carol’s wounds. Would Chuck have been able to accomplish those tasks physically, considering that he was seriously gut shot? What about the forensic reports on Carol? Was she shot in the side of the head or the back of the head? If the wound was in the back, would the fatal shot have to have been fired from the backseat, given the trajectory of the entrance wound? If it were determined that she was shot from the backseat, did Chuck climb into the rear of the car on some pretense and then shoot her? Or was there indeed a gunman? If the wound was in the back of her head, could Carol have been shot while she had her head turned looking out the passenger window, rather than from the backseat? What was the angle of entry of Chuck’s wound? Was the shot in such a location that he could not have fired it himself? Doctors at BCH said they had no reason to think that the wound was self-inflicted. If he did not shoot himself, who shot him?

Matthew’s statement raised more questions than it answered. His story was detailed for the public by his lawyer, John Perenyi. Later Perenyi would also be criticized, as would Richard Clayman, the lawyer for the Stuart family, for giving away too much about their clients. Matthew may have felt that way about Perenyi in any case because several weeks later he fired him. Perenyi’s replacement was well-known feminist rights lawyer Nancy Gertner, who promptly put a lid on
all
information about Matthew. If she was worried about charges being filed against him, she had good reason.

While Perenyi was still Matthew’s lawyer he told reporters that Matthew had assurances from the prosecutors
before
he met with him that he was covered by the blood relative law and would not be charged as an accessory. Prosecutors, however, have denied making such promises. But even if it were determined that the blood relative law applied, would Matthew be covered?

During an appearance weeks later on the
People Are Talking
program on WBZ-TV, Boston’s NBC affiliate, Harvard Law School’s Alan Dershowitz pointed out that prosecution of Matthew, assuming he tried to claim immunity under the blood relative law, could in fact hinge on when it was determined that the actual crime was committed. That is, if the crime occurred when Carol was shot, then anything Matthew did afterward would be considered “after the fact,” and he presumably could not be called to account as an accessory. However, if it is determined that the crime occurred when Carol died, rather than when she was shot, Matthew conceivably could be charged as an accessory
before
the fact, an accusation that may not be covered by the blood relative law.

Whatever the consequences will prove to be, Matthew’s decision to tell his story, even if it was self-serving, set off a chain of events that still has Boston humming. The most serious consequence, though, at least as far as Chuck was concerned, was already in motion.

Chapter 11

January 3, 1990

Late afternoon

Chuck knew—he
had
to know—that whatever Matthew told prosecutors, it did not bode well for him. He had not been able to convince his brother to keep quiet. Neither had his brothers and sister. The walls were closing in. Soon, he felt with certainty, the police would come looking for him. At the very least they would want to talk to him. More than likely they would haul him downtown and charge him. He had to do something. Even while Matthew was closeted with the assistant district attorneys in their office downtown, Chuck spun into motion.

Jumping into his new Nissan, he drove to his house in Reading. A neighbor later said he saw Chuck pull in, disappear inside, and a few minutes later leave again. Apparently he was en route to the office of his family’s lawyer, John T. Dawley. Ironically Matthew had first turned to Dawley a week previously when he was looking for legal advice. Dawley turned him down, so Matthew went to his girlfriend’s lawyer, John Perenyi. Dawley also turned Chuck down, telling him it would be a conflict of interest for him to represent him since he already represented his father and mother. Dawley did, however, scribble four names for Chuck, names of lawyers he said might be willing to take his case. Chuck pocketed the list and left.

Where he went from there is unknown, or at least it has not been disclosed. He did
not
go back to his house. Apparently he did not go to his parents’ house, either. He could have gone to Michael’s house. But he could have gone practically anywhere. Maybe he met with Debbie Allen. Maybe he just drove around. Whatever, his next known act was to check in at the Sheraton-Tara Hotel in Brain tree, which is south of Boston. Chuck’s house was in Reading, which is almost due north of Boston. His parents and his brothers lived in Revere, which is closer to Boston than Reading, but still to the north. To get to Braintree, he had to drive completely across the city. It’s a long drive. Why he went to the Sheraton-Tara in Braintree is unknown. The sister hotel in Danvers would have been closer. There were hundreds of hotels he could have gone to. Maybe he felt an affinity with the hotel because he’d once worked at the other Sheraton-Tara when he had just graduated from the Voke.

10:00
P
.
M
.

When Chuck checked in just before ten, he had been gone from his house in Reading for about six hours. Except for the visit to Dawley, his movements during that time are unaccounted for. He filled out the registration form and paid in advance with a credit card. He had no luggage. Palming the key to room 231, Chuck asked, as normally as if he were a salesman with an early morning meeting, for a wake-up call at 4:30
A
.
M
., an ungodly hour to be about unless there was someplace he had to be. Or someplace he did
not
have to be, like loitering around a hotel room while the police were busily tracking him down. But that wasn’t very likely. There are just too many hotels in the Boston area where he could have been. The fact that he left a wake-up call at all, particularly at that hour, is very odd considering what was to happen.

Chuck made one telephone call from his room, but since it was to a Boston-area number it was not recorded by the hotel’s automatic equipment. The charge reflected on his bill for the call was $1.50. Apparently it was the only expense he charged to his room.

January 4, 1990

2:00
A.M
.

Some four hours after he checked in, Chuck left the hotel and walked to a nearby all-night convenience store. The two clerks in the store, accustomed to eyeing middle-of-the-night customers with a certain amount of skepticism because each could be a potential holdup man, gave Chuck a quick once-over. He appeared normal enough, they said later, even jolly. He was grinning from ear to ear, said Stephen Newton, which immediately made him suspicious. After all, who comes into a store in the middle of a freezing-cold night in such a good mood? They didn’t have to worry, though; robbery was not on Chuck’s agenda.

He browsed through the store, bought a soda and a snack, and, still smiling, paid for it with a small bill. As he left, he turned and cheerfully asked if the store remained open all night.

Newton’s co-worker replied warily that it did.

“Okay,” Chuck said, adding that he might come back if he got the munchies again.

Although there are no witnesses to confirm his movements, Chuck apparently returned to the hotel, polished off his early morning snack, emptied the change from his pockets into a hotel ashtray, and stretched out on the bed.

4:30
A
.
M
.

Chuck’s wake-up call came through as requested. He got up, put on his coat, and left the hotel, leaving behind the ashtray full of change and a colostomy bag, presumably a spare. Next to the telephone was the list of attorneys he had taken earlier from Dawley. He did not turn in his key. Whether he was simply forgetful or whether he planned to return to the room is unknown.

What happened in the next two and a half hours is still a mystery. There is little doubt that Chuck left the hotel immediately after his wake-up call, but where he went and what he did is speculation. It
is
known, however, that he changed clothes. The clerks at the convenience store said he was wearing a black pullover sweater and black slacks when he strolled into the establishment at two
A
.
M
. But when his body was recovered later from the Mystic River, he was wearing blue jeans and a parka. Since the clerk said he had no luggage when he checked in, he must have gone somewhere to change. If he thought the police were watching his house in Reading, which indeed they were, and had been since eleven o’clock the previous night, it is certain he did not go there. Another possibility is that he went to Michael’s house in Revere. Debbie Allen lived with her parents, and it is unlikely he went banging on her door before dawn. But if he went to Revere, what he did next is even more puzzling.

7:00
A
.
M
.

While making his rounds, State Trooper Jerome Cronin saw a new Nissan pulled over on the shoulder of the Revere-bound tier of the Tobin Bridge. The emergency flashers were blinking; the hood was propped open; the engine was running; and the vehicle was empty. On the passenger seat was a driver’s license issued to Charles Stuart and a handwritten note on Sheraton-Tara stationery. Although the police refused to divulge the text of the note, they said it indicated that Chuck didn’t have the strength to continue, loved his family, and had been through hell…He added that the allegations had drained him. Significantly, it was
not
a confession. Neither was it an explicit admission that he intended to jump off the bridge.