The Savage Murder of Skylar Neese: The Truth Behind the Headlines (16 page)

Mary Neese braved the summer heat and humidity to prove there is something stronger than the elements: a mother’s love.

With the temperature hovering above 90 degrees, Mary and Dave led a solemn procession from Clay-Battelle High School to the place where their daughter drew her last breath. There, on June 23, family and friends dedicated a bench to Skylar along a narrow country road near Brave, Pennsylvania, at the spot where Skylar’s body had lain for six months. The handmade bench read: “In Loving Memory, Skylar A. Neese, 1996–2012.” The small crowd of about forty people who came to pay their respects tried to let their laughter outweigh their tears, as they hugged each other.

A pall was cast over the ceremony, though, by Coroner Rohanna’s steadfast refusal to let the Neeses spend ten minutes alone with Skylar’s remains. Mary and Dave still did not have Skylar back yet, and the Green County coroner put the blame on the FBI.

“We just received some of the remains back from the FBI within the last couple of days,” Rohanna said. “I have not had the remains. The FBI has had them. But we’re still investigating because we need to do the things we need to do.”

Nor had the federal agency released an official cause of death, according to Rohanna. In addition, since Skylar’s body had been discovered in Greene County, he was the only person who could make that call—which meant that his office was in charge of Skylar’s remains. Rohanna insisted they were staying right where they were, and staunchly refused to let the Neeses into the building to see what was left of their only child.
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At the Saturday service for Skylar, Dave announced his plans to picket the coroner’s office in two days’ time. He and Mary were tired of being victimized by what looked more like a pissing contest than anything real. The way Dave saw it, Rohanna was being a jerk just because he could. The grieving father told members of the media that he didn’t care if he was arrested; he and Mary just wanted to say good-bye to the daughter who left them nearly one year before.

By Monday the media had taken up the Neeses’ cause and a second crowd had gathered, this time at the couple’s Star City apartment. Everyone was preparing to load signs saying “Free Skylar” into their vehicles and drive thirty minutes to the coroner’s office in Waynesburg, Pennsylvania, when Dave’s cell phone rang. The caller on the other end had good news: Rohanna was conceding defeat. All of Skylar’s remains would be back in West Virginia within a few days. Mary and Dave felt lighter than they had in months.

Skylar was coming home.

***

Mary, Dave, and Skylar’s favorite aunt, Carol, drove a mile up the road to the state police detachment to tell her good-bye. The date of the private ceremony had been fiercely guarded, to prevent the media from finding out. After being allowed to grieve privately at the detachment, they left feeling better—closer to closure than they had been before they arrived that warm July day.

Afterward, Skylar’s parents were finally able to give Skylar the service she deserved. The memorial was planned for mid-July, not long after the first anniversary of Skylar’s disappearance. Mary wore a ribbed purple blouse with black dress slacks for the day she would tell Skylar good-bye for good. Dave didn’t own a single purple garment, so he wore the next best thing: a navy blue shirt. He was sure Skylar would have approved.

Over two days, more than 1,000 people streamed through the Kingdom Evangelical Methodist Church sanctuary to pay their respects or attend the service. Many of them had never met the sunny, blue-eyed teen whose pictures played continuously on a large screen at the front of the room. They wore purple anyway, showing they had been touched deeply by Skylar’s short life and tragic death.

Several of the people who had helped investigate and who were going to prosecute the case came, too, as did dozens of UHS students and faculty. People who were strangers before Skylar’s disappearance also showed up, many of them just to meet and comfort Mary and Dave. More than one person drove several hours and crossed state lines so they could give the couple a hug, or offer them hope for happier days.

Teenagers lined up in rows to watch the poignant pictures of Skylar come and go. Their eyes glued to the screen, tears streaming down their faces, they all looked like silent statues. Many of them wore a rainbow of Skylar purple; some were dressed in traditional black. None of them could leave the building without tearing up over the friend they had lost too soon.

During the memorial service, Pastor Kevin Cain shared Skylar stories he’d gleaned from friends and family. Stories about how she was a strong source of support to other youths, by being their counselor, their confidante. Funny stories from her childhood, as well as her teens, that made those in attendance chuckle or even cry.

Mary and Dave were worried about how they would get through such a public display, but in the end, they held onto each other and wept openly, and with the minister’s words, they allowed the long year of grief to gently wash over them. The service couldn’t remove all of the pain and anguish they felt, but at least it helped to make it more bearable.

As he concluded, Cain turned the service over to Skylar’s parents. Dave had been worried Mary wouldn’t hold up well, but as they stood together she seemed, if anything, to look stronger. Not one to speak to large crowds of people in public, Mary Neese was the epitome of grace and dignity.

“I just want to say thanks to each and every one of you for all of the support you’ve given us this past year,” Mary said. “We truly wouldn’t have made it without you and words just can’t tell you guys how much we love all of you. Thank you so much.”

It was Dave’s turn next. His voice was gravelly, his words unusually brief when he spoke. After repeating Mary’s expression of thanks, Dave asked everyone to look at the large, framed photo of Skylar that also held her ashes. All eyes turned toward the front of the room.

“No one can ever hurt you again, baby,” he said.

Four long and frustrating months after Rachel’s guilty plea, Skylar’s family feared the case had become as stagnant as a summer pond. The courts had done nothing. From the outside looking in, that’s how it felt to both the people closest to the case and to the public.

Despite initial rumors that Shelia would be transferred to adult status and Rachel would be sentenced swiftly, nothing further appeared to happen. The media would not even print or speak Shelia’s name—much less speculate on what was prompting the delay.

As the summer heat pounded on, it became harder to tell which made people angrier: Rachel confessing to Skylar’s murder or the media’s refusal to name her accomplice. Eighteen weeks later, the people who followed Skylar’s story got their wish: on September 4 Judge Clawges ruled Shelia Eddy would be transferred from juvenile to criminal court.

For the prosecution of Skylar’s murder, that legal distinction meant Monongalia County now viewed Shelia as an adult. So did the State of West Virginia. That, in turn, meant both entities would hold the teen fully accountable for her actions. Equally important, in the eyes of everyone following Skylar’s story, the media could now print and speak Shelia’s name—which news reporters did the minute Prosecutor Ashdown handed them a press release announcing the judge’s decision.

For 427 days, from the day Skylar disappeared until September 4, Mary and Dave had never been far from tears. A question from a well-meaning stranger who recognized them in public would cause them to mourn their only child all over again. A passing headline about another missing child would suddenly force them to relive their own tragedy.

Regardless of how many people celebrated the change in Shelia’s status, nothing changed for Mary and Dave. The Neeses continued to grieve. For the baby they brought home from the hospital, for the little girl who ran around naked in her family home, for the teenager who became the loyal confidante to so many of her peers. For Skylar Annette, the sixteen-year-old daughter who was lost to them forever.

So September 4, 2013, the day Shelia’s alleged role in the murder became public, was a day to celebrate. But it was also a day for sorrow. That pivotal date initiated Shelia’s slow march toward justice, but it also signaled the end of Mary and Dave’s old life. In the end, the Neeses realized, it was an empty celebration.
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***

Trials are not about finding the truth. They are about judging guilt and setting the world right again. But after a crime as savage as the murder of Skylar Neese, people doubt the world can ever again
be
right. A promising young life was violently cut short in July of 2012, and all the possible futures of Skylar Neese—and
every benefit she would have brought to the people she had yet to encounter
—have forever vanished.

The murder is the central stone thrown into the pond, but the waves that ripple out represent all the lives irrevocably changed. Mary and Dave have suffered most from the killing of their daughter, but Tara, Greg, Jim, Patricia, and Rusty have also suffered. Skylar’s friends—Daniel, Morgan, Hayden, Amorette, Shania, Crissy, Eric, Floyd, and a dozen more not named in this book—must go on without her. The teenagers at University High School, even the ones who only knew Skylar in passing, had bits of themselves torn away, as well. So did the teachers who trusted Rachel and Shelia, but who now felt betrayed. Even people not directly affected by the murder or its aftermath—in the Morgantown community and well beyond—were stunned by the betrayal of two “best friends” and may never again be able to trust in quite the same way.

Shelia’s trial for premeditated murder could never have undone the damage that has been done. Still, people longed for it to reveal some hidden truths, such as whether some mental illness turned these girls into killers. Or what Rachel really meant when she said they didn’t want to be friends with Skylar anymore. And if Skylar was killed because they had to keep her quiet.

***

The rumor that Rachel would be sentenced quickly also caused frustration during that long summer. Her agreement to plead guilty was based, in part, on her willingness to testify in any and all court proceedings against Shelia Eddy. If that had happened and her testimony—or her confession, for that matter—had been found to be false, Rachel Shoaf stood to lose her deal. She would have returned to the criminal court system, where she might have then had to face trial herself.

After Rachel’s confession, the prosecutor’s office recommended a twenty-year sentence as part of the deal. Judge Clawges specifically asked Rachel during the plea hearing if she understood he has full discretion when it comes to her sentence. Clawges said he could sentence her up to forty years, and she will have no right to appeal. Rachel said she understood.

Rachel also took a polygraph test after her confession. She passed.

***

Shelia’s arraignment only took fifteen minutes, but it contained all the elements of high drama. The court hearing was held September 17—eleven days before Shelia would turn eighteen.

Shelia wore the same orange jumpsuit, white socks, and sandals as the rest of the inmates. The only female prisoner in the courtroom stood before the judge, her wrists and ankles shackled.

The contrast between Shelia and her attorney couldn’t have been more pronounced. Mike Benninger was as tall, broad, and dark as Shelia was short, slight, and fair. Their voices were a stark contrast as well. His boomed, by far the loudest in the courtroom. Distinct and certain, his voice allowed everyone seated in the wood-paneled room to hear him without the need to lean forward, fearful of missing something. Hers was soft and uncertain, almost childlike. Benninger’s presence made Shelia seem even smaller than she was, as if she could not possibly have committed the crimes with which she was charged.

“Have you discussed the charges with your client?” Judge Clawges asked.

“I have, your Honor. Carefully,” Benninger replied.

“Does she understand the charges against her?”

“She
absolutely
does,” the defense attorney said.

Four times in a row, Shelia said, “Not guilty.” To one count of first-degree murder. To one count of kidnapping. To two counts of conspiracy to commit kidnapping and murder.

Dave and Skylar’s aunt Carol sat three rows back. Before Shelia could finish her first “not guilty,” sobs were heard from their direction. People who came to observe, who had never met Skylar or her family, began to cry when they heard the sounds of grief coming from the Neese contingent.

In court, Shelia appeared to be chewing gum. Inmates do not normally chew gum while waiting to plead to felony murder charges. But the most distinctive aspect of Shelia’s appearance was her emotional demeanor. Some people say they didn’t see a single tear. Others said her eyes were rimmed in red, as if she had been crying at some point during the judge’s questions.

Some people said Shelia was smiling while she waited for her case to be called. Dave Neese believed she smiled right at him, as if to reassure him that everything was all right. Or to taunt him. News media photos and online reports from observers all seemed to indicate that most people believed Shelia had been smiling throughout the procedure. As if she was enjoying the attention.
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By her second hearing, on October 15, Shelia wasn’t smiling. At all.

A photographer later remarked that, unlike the first court appearance, he didn’t see Shelia’s pearly whites even once. Bespectacled, with her hair pulled back in an updo, she looked even younger than she had at her arraignment two weeks earlier. Extremely subdued, Shelia struck one observer as “possibly drugged,” while another said she “looked like she was
trying
not to have an expression.”

Whatever the reason for her September 17 arraignment smile, Shelia had apparently received a subsequent lesson in appropriate courtroom body language from her defense attorney. Whether out of nervousness or simply unaware of how she appeared to onlookers, Shelia didn’t seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation the first time she was in court. This time, she did.

Benninger filed the motions before Judge Clawges’s September 30 deadline. Twelve motions were filed, ranging from a request for bail to a motion to change venue to motions for suppression of evidence. Shelia had waived her right to a speedy trial and was at the pretrial motions hearing at 9:00 a.m. to hear the judge’s rulings.

In support of his motions, Benninger told the court he’d recently received the FBI report. He said it contained numerous “technical lab studies and photos.” In addition, Benninger had “thousands of pages of documentation” he said supported his request to move the case out of Monongalia County.

Clawges wasted no time on one motion in particular. When Benninger requested bail for his client, Clawges ruled swiftly: “No.”

Benninger also asked to have the trial moved to another county because of “substantial publicity and prejudice”; to bring in jurors from another area; to have Rachel Shoaf’s testimony suppressed, due to her supposed mental instability; and to have all the charges dropped, citing prosecutorial misconduct.

Prosecutor Ashdown responded to the motions later that week, saying no misconduct had occurred and disagreeing that Eddy’s chance at a fair trial has been hampered by excessive media reports. What she didn’t object to was the trial being delayed.

As for the motion to move the trial, some Monongalia County residents already knew a lot about the case, but many hadn’t even heard of it. Ashdown had gone to great lengths to prevent the media from revealing anything other than details that were a matter of public record anyway. She held no press conferences and made no public statements about teen killers or the plight of today’s families. She had been keeping a tight lid on the case since Rachel’s confession in January.

The gossip sites had been chattering, but those were online and not specifically local. Social media had been a source of gossip, too, but mostly full of rumor and speculation—which decent jurors would have no problem putting into context. Ashdown’s contention was that with thorough voir dire, a jury could be impaneled to ensure Shelia gets a fair trial in Monongalia County.
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But the trial never happened. On a frigid Friday in January, Shelia Eddy shocked everyone when she pled guilty to first-degree murder.

***

Anyone who saw Shelia’s criminal case file would question how the teen’s attorney could defend her. In the end, he couldn’t.

“I have found negligible, if any, basis … to develop a defense,” Benninger said. He looked through “every piece of paper, video, and audio,” he received about the case, and met with or talked to his client or her family about thiry times. After digging through West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and even federal case law, Shelia’s defense attorney said he found nothing that would allow him to mount a reasonable defense for his client. In the end, Benninger realized “there was little more that I or anyone else could do for this young lady.”

Media from New York City and elsewhere had flown in to cover the trial, which was broadcast over a live video feed online. People dressed in purple—Skylar’s favorite color—filled the courtroom. As Shelia was escorted into the courtroom, she passed her mother and stepfather, her father, and other family members, as well as armed guards wearing bulletproof vests.

Her hair was in a low side ponytail, but her blonde highlights had grown out, changing her back to a brunette. She wore large-framed glasses and, like her last court appearance, seemed to move slowly, almost as if she were drugged. Or afraid of what was to come.

By the time she took her seat at the defense table, her face was contorted and she began to cry. Oddly, it was one of the few times Shelia showed any emotion—causing many people to claim she cried crocodile tears. As Dave and others later said, “She wasn’t crying for what she’d done, she was crying because she got caught.”

Although Shelia Eddy pleaded guilty to intentionally killing Skylar Neese, she didn’t utter one word about what she and her co-conspirator did—she simply pled guilty to all the charges Clawges read from his bench. Shelia said she understood what they meant. She said no one had pressured her to plead guilty. She even said her legal representation was good.

But the words Skylar’s family most needed to hear were the ones Shelia couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say: “I’m sorry.”

Or perhaps equally important, “Please forgive me.”

Although Benninger read from a prepared statement and said his client and her family recognize the Neeses are in “a constant state of despair, loneliness, and sadness,” the absence of those words from Shelia’s own mouth left those in attendance dumbfounded. They wondered how Shelia could plead guilty to premeditated, first-degree murder—but remain silent when she was given a chance to prove her remorse.

After Judge Clawges accepted Shelia’s guilty plea, he said she had waived her pre-sentencing rights. The family was invited to give an oral statement. Skylar’s mother, Mary, didn’t trust herself speak. So her sister Carol spoke on her behalf.

“She’s taken hopes and dreams from my sister,” Skylar’s aunt said. That’s because Mary Neese was cheated out of seeing Skylar go to prom, graduate high school, or get married. With Skylar’s murder, Carol told the judge, Mary also lost any chance of becoming a grandmother. Everyone heard the sadness in Carol’s voice, saw the tears flow down her cheeks.

Moments after Carol returned to her seat, Dave Neese walked to the prosecutor’s table and began reading from a prepared statement. His voice was small and quiet, in complete contrast to his bearlike size. When he stumbled over the words, the lead investigator, Corporal Ronnie Gaskins, reached his arm out as if to imbue Dave with the strength needed to go on.

Dave did, but not before he broke down sobbing. “My life and my wife’s life has been drastically altered. We are no longer a family,” Dave said.

Many people in the courtroom wept openly at Carol and Dave’s words. No doubt Clawges was touched by what he heard, too, but in the end, that made no difference when it came to his sentence.
Miller v. Alabama
(U.S. Supreme Court; June 12, 2012) requires “the court to impose a sentence of life imprisonment with mercy,” Clawges told Eddy, “which means you would be eligible for parole after fifteen years.”

The decision “is kind of binding on all of us,” he added, since it means that imposing “a sentence of life without mercy upon a juvenile would be a violation of the cruel and inhuman punishment provisions of the United States Constitution.”

So while Shelia received a life sentence, she will be eligible for parole in 15 years. Clawges stressed the law allows for no more. Although Shelia will be eligible for parole then, that does not mean she will find herself on the road to freedom that soon. The parole board must make that decision. One major factor that entity will consider is Shelia’s remorse—or lack thereof—perhaps as evidenced by the words she didn’t say to the Neeses that day: “I’m sorry.”

***

Because of the nature of “this horrific and vile crime,” the prosecution said it had one other request: “We are asking you here, today, to sentence this defendant to adult prison, for her very adult crime.” Ashdown said Shelia should not return to a juvenile facility, especially since she’s now 18.

Judge Clawges agreed with the request. He said that as soon as a bed became available, Eddy was to be placed in an adult prison. “If that’s tomorrow, it’s tomorrow,” Clawges said. “If it’s thirty days from now, it’s thirty days from now.”

In return for Shelia’s guilty plea, Pennsylvania and federal court systems both agreed to dismiss any pending charges they had against her.
¹⁶

***

For many months now, the single most repeated line about Skylar’s case supposedly explained why two bright and pretty teenage girls would kill their best friend. Yet it was an explanation that seemed nonsensical.

The motive for murder, according to Rachel Shoaf, was simple: they didn’t want to be friends with Skylar anymore. That’s the only reason Rachel gave for their actions.

No one believed Rachel’s claim, though. Some thought it was ridiculous at best, or more likely, a poor attempt to cover up the real reason. Over and over, people kept saying, “If you don’t like someone, you just stop hanging around with them,” or, “That’s a reason to unfriend them on Facebook, not a reason to kill them.” Or simply, “That’s just dumb.”