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Michael Skakel answers. He is a wiry, kinetic boy of fifteen with a bright Irish face and a tousled mop of brown hair. Wet hair, Dorthy notes. Michael looks washed out, pale—shocked?
(Later, some think these calls from the Skakel house to be false concern; think that in those morning hours there was a squaring of stories, an aligning of alibis under the Skakel roof, perhaps in the presence of Skakel lawyers. Others believe the Skakels are cursed again, doomed to have even their best intentions turned back on them.)
THE SCREAMS THAT AWAKENED STEPHEN SKAKEL the night Martha Moxley was killed came from outside his window, down in his darkened yard. He tells this to his friend Lucy Tart as they ride the bus to Greenwich Country Day School on the morning of Halloween, four hours before the discovery of Martha’s corpse. That night Lucy tells her mother, who tells her friend Joan Rader, who tells the police.
Barbara Train Lawrence remembers that Tommy vanished. To Europe. Was he was whisked out of the country to escape his inquisitors? This is an enduring myth of the Moxley case. At some point in the winter of 1975, Tommy did go to Europe, to a funeral in Ireland. And later, amid the simmering impression of his guilt, he quietly transferred to a small private school in Vermont.
