I reached over into the glove compartment of my 1965 red VW Bug for the hidden joint. Relief.    

The last of my 60’s heroes was dead. Robert F. Kennedy had been assassinated a few miles from my family home on North Rodeo Drive.  A night of jubilance at the Ambassador Hotel Ballroom. An evening of passionate screaming. “BOBBY, BOBBY.” Silenced. I lit up just after sunrise. All I wanted was to feel numb.  

The vision of Kennedy’s bloody head, held by a teenage busboy, has never left my mind. Nor has the vision of another teenager. One so naïve, so pure, so undeserving of the fate that robbed her of life.   

—–

A grieving mother sat. Silently. Proudly. Breathlessly. After 27 years of investigation, someone would finally be held responsible for her beautiful teenage daughter’s vicious death. Michael Skakel, Robert F. Kennedy’s nephew, was declared guilty in the 1975 murder of 15-year-old Martha Moxley.

Martha was last seen across from her house at the Skakel pool. Hours later, she was found bludgeoned to death with a six-iron golf club. Her underpants drooped around her ankles, but her virginity still intact. Pieces of the club encircled her body,  head ripped from its shaft, the shaft through her neck.  Police determined the club came from the Skakel home.

I followed the trial. I knew Michael. Very well. When I saw him handcuffed and led away, I choked up. Suspicions continue to surround Michael and that brutal Halloween eve on his family’s lawn. I have my own doubts.

I met the Skakel family when I moved east from Beverly Hills in 1977. My mother suggested I call “Uncle Rush” to make some connections. His sister, Georgeann Skakel Terrian, was a bridesmaid in my parents’ wedding.

The moment I drove into Belle Haven, the Skakel’s exclusive Greenwich community, I felt right at home. I am one of six Catholic girls. They had seven Catholic children. Our family was financially comfortable and had its pockets of darkness. Their family was a sweet and sour mixture of too much wealth, too much freedom, too much alcohol, too much entitlement, and one big secret. Who killed Martha?

When I first arrived, I hadn’t heard of the murder, so it was easy to be taken by the Skakels’ charm. The house became a comfort zone. Much like my home, there was never a dull or quiet moment, and every day was wild, raucous and fun. I was occasionally included in their Sunday night dinners at various private country clubs. The younger boys were always delighted when their dad, Uncle Rush., ordered “one extra rabbit ear” – his term for ice cream. I still use it to this day. Their only daughter, Julie, always sat quietly amidst the chaos, her beautiful blonde hair pulled tight. I loved her razor quick wit, and we built an immediate bond. We shared Marlboros, cocktails, adventures in her station wagon, gossip and intimate details about our lives. But Julie never spoke of the night before Halloween. It was as if it had been scraped from the family history, despite glaring evidence around almost every corner. When I asked Julie why she double bolted her bedroom door, her laughter shifted into an ominous confession. “It’s to keep the boys out,” she said.

Once I knew about the murder, I rewound the film constantly. All I wanted to do was edit or reverse the story. Tommy and Michael Skakel, both close to Martha’s age, were under the constant eye of the Greenwich police. Were they really capable of such a passionately hateful act? The possibility that one of them killed Martha fogged my loyalty.

I couldn’t get the scene out of my head, every time I walked across that lawn. The vision of Martha’s bloodied body shattered the magic of the smell, the touch, the blinding autumn colors around their home.

Countless stories have been published, a TV film aired, and the trial was highly rated. Gossip whirled from Greenwich to New York and Los Angeles.  Which boy? Was there a trespasser? Was it the tutor who was living there? The only thing I know for sure is that whoever killed Martha had to be high on booze, drugs and rage. They were mentally blacked out of their mind. At least I hope so.  

—

Last month, the Connecticut Supreme Court reversed Michael’s conviction. He served half of his 20 year sentence. The trial that transfixed the nation because of the Kennedy connection may have come to an end. RFK’s son and Michael’s sister, Julie, were his biggest supporters.

RFK Jr. has also called for a new the investigation into his father’s assassination. He just wants the truth – the only thing the Kennedy family has never been able to possess.  Martha’s mother and brother are still waiting for the truth.