Margo Nash - The Politics Of Murder: The Power and Ambition Behind The Altar Boy Murder Case

PROLOGUE

In July of 1995, they charged Eddie OBrien, a fifteen-year-old boy from Somerville, with first-degree murder for the brutal and bloody slaying of his best friends mother.

Id been a practicing trial lawyer in Massachusetts for twelve years. I also appeared as bar counsel for indigent adult criminal defendants and juveniles in delinquency proceedings. Bar counsel were private attorneys, approved by the local bar association to accept court appointments at reduced fees. We were, if you will, private public defenders. The program was necessary because there were never enough public defenders to meet the demand. Through the same program, I also served as a guardian ad litem in various courts in the Boston, Somerville and Cambridge courts .

I received a telephone call that October from the Somerville District Court, asking me if I would accept an appointment from Judge Paul P. Heffernan to act as guardian ad litem for Eddie OBrien. Guardian ad litem literally means guardian for the proceeding. GALs are often appointed in parental custody disputes, where theyre expected to advocate for the childs best interests, which are not necessarily the childs expressed desires. I had never been appointed before as a GAL in a delinquency proceeding.

My role with Eddie was not so clearly defined. I was the designated adult with whom Eddie could discuss his questions and concerns regarding his legal representation. His lawyers were supposed to be consulting me regarding their legal strategies, opinions, and decisions, as if I were Eddies parent.

Eddie had never been in any trouble before. He was a sophomore at Don Bosco, a private Catholic high school in Boston. He was an altar boy at his local parishSt. Josephs in Somervilleuntil he turned thirteen. He babysat for neighborhood children. He was a sports fanatic; he loved hockey, basketball, and baseball. He was a sports card collector; the Boston Celtics Larry Bird was his idol.

He hadnt made the varsity football team in high school because he wasnt aggressive enough. He had a part-time job stocking drink coolers and putting together the Sunday newspapers at Mid-Nite Convenient, a corner store that sold newspapers, soda, magazines, and snacks.

The case was an immediate headline grabber, and Eddies faceand stories about himappeared almost daily in the local and national media.

I remember the day he was arraigned. It happened in the main adult open courtroom, not in a closed juvenile session. That was unusual. The elected district attorney himself appeared for the Commonwealth. That was unheard of. Id been in the courtroom that day on one of my cases, and Id certainly heard about the OBrien case. Id actually seen Eddie down in the lockup earlier that morning speaking with a private investigator. I was there when the investigator emerged from the cell, looked up and said, This kid did not commit this crime.

I looked over at Eddie OBrien in that cell, a scared boy who looked about twelve years old. He was tall but hadnt yet lost his baby fat. His cheeks were flushed red.

Eddie OBrien at his arraignment. Photo courtesy of The Boston Herald.

I accepted the judges appointment, but secretly I was worried about exactly how I could protect this kid and his legal rights. Looking back now, so many years later, I know with absolute certainty that I could never have protected him or his legal rights.

I couldnt, Judge Paul P. Heffernan couldnt, the judicial system of Massachusetts couldnt, his parents couldnt.

Even the truth couldnt.

Eddie OBrien fell directly into a political maelstrom brewing since 1991. Lawmakers and politicians were waiting for a case like this to come along, and Eddies case became the catalyst that changed juvenile law in Massachusetts and sent children to adult prisons for the rest of their natural lives. It also catapulted political careers and perverted the orderly administration of justice that wed all once believed in.

Ive remained involved with Eddie and his parents over the years hes spent in state prison, serving a life sentence. He is middle-aged now; he has grey hair and a wonderful sense of humor. He is such a good man, a spiritual man, a forgiving man. I dont need that kind of drama and negativity in my life, he frequently says. Id rather focus on whats positive. If his cellblock has been in lockdown because of a fight or a shortage of guards, he shrugs, This is prison. It happens. Theres nothing I can do about it, so theres no point in getting upset about it. During those long stretches locked up in his cell he reads, watches news programs, writes letters to friends, and works on his case.

Eddie doesnt trust easily, especially lawyers. Once burned, twice cautious. He spars with me over legal theories of his case, about which issues are the most important to appeal, about whom he can and cannot rely on for help. Eddie does get angry, sometimes with me, his siblings, his legal team. Hes a normal man with normal responses and emotions. Hes no longer the complacent teenager who blindly believed that right beats might and the truth will set you free.

In a recent letter he wrote:

Before the trial I couldnt wait for it to begin. I thought that I would finally be able to clear my name, but it didnt happen. Years later after the trial Im still anxious to clear my name. No one whoever hasnt gone through something like this could ever know what it feels like to want to clear your name. Im not that 15-year-old boy who didnt understand what was going on anymore. I fully understand what I want and what I need to do this time around and what it takes.

In 2015, Eddie and I spent a lot of time talking, reading old transcripts, and putting the pieces of a fractured puzzle together. I cringe about having completely missed the big picture so many years ago.