Murder at the Washington Tribune - Margaret Truman [135]
Roberta Wilcox’s star became brighter and farther-reaching. She was booked on myriad talk shows where she deflected questions about her father by pointing to his notable and long career as a journalist, and tearfully saying that he was a wonderful, loving father who would always have her unyielding love and respect. Her father rarely watched his daughter on those shows. He went into seclusion at the house, seldom venturing out and taking only selected phone calls. His attorney, Frank Moss, negotiated on his behalf with the Tribune and managed to preserve his client’s pension. Together with his vested 401K and eventual Social Security, money would not be a pressing problem for Joe and Georgia, provided they didn’t decide to live the high life. Criminal charges against Wilcox were never brought, which Moss proudly pointed to as an example of his lawyering skills, not aware that the district attorney hadn’t planned to file charges anyway after pressure from MPD’s Bernard Evans on behalf of Detective Edith Vargas, formerly Edith Vargas-Swayze.
In the Years that Followed
Michael Wilcox’s confession of having murdered Rudy Grau saved the cost of a trial. Because the District of Columbia does not have a death sentence, he was sentenced to life without parole, and seemed almost happy at the contemplation of again having nothing but time in which to practice his guitar and write his novel. Roberta Wilcox and Gene Hawthorne were at the sentencing. She declined Hawthorne’s offer to go out for dinner, knowing of her father’s intense dislike of the young reporter. Still, she found him appealing. But romance was the last thing on her agenda. She was about to move to New York to become a correspondent on 20/20.
A jury found Paul Morehouse guilty of the second-degree murder of Jean Kaporis and sentenced him to forty years behind bars. His attorneys successfully made the point during the trial that their client, a good family man with a solid record of service to his community, had acted out of passion, nothing premeditated about the crime. Appeals were planned.
Joe and Georgia Wilcox sold their home in Rockville and moved to New Mexico, where she landed a part-time job in a library, leaving Joe at home to work on his nonfiction book about the events leading to his professional downfall. Georgia read his pages each night and thought they were wonderful. So did his editor at a New York publishing house. The book was scheduled for publication the following year.
Edith Vargas received a promotion, and took her first vacation in a year, visiting New Mexico where she dropped in on the Wilcoxes.
“You look very happy,” Edith told the couple when they’d settled on the expansive veranda after dinner, the mountains providing a stunning backdrop.
“All things considered,” Joe said, “things are pretty good. I want to run my manuscript past you when it’s finished to make sure I’ve got the police angles and nomenclature right. It’s been a while since I’ve written about them.”
“Happy to,” she said.
“What ever happened with the McNamara case?” he asked.
“Unsolved,” Edith replied. “In the cold file. Do you ever hear from your brother?”
“Yeah, I do as a matter of fact. He writes, and he sent us this tape of him playing the guitar. He’s really good.”
Vargas smiled and handed the cassette back. “And how about Roberta?”
“We speak with her often,” Joe said. “It took a while for her to come to grips with what her old man did, but she has. We’re closer than ever.”
“She’s doing fine,” Georgia said. “We watch her on 20/20. I wish she’d meet some nice guy and settle down, though, give