Over the last few days of 2020 I was surprised to hear from Tracy Magdalene who plays a prominent yet anonymous role in my piece entitled Brushes With The Unspeakable. The story talks of three instances in my life in which I was indirectly thrust into circumstances which were both violent and tragic. I was on the periphery, just close enough, but not so close (“brushes”), in that my life was affected in any tactile manner other than to feel extreme sympathy for the people who were directly impacted. One feels the sympathy and then life goes on; that is the human way for better or worse. Tracy was one of the people who was directly impacted in the most visceral fashion imaginable. I probably did not think of her enough (then or now), though I never knew her name or intimate, personal story until just recently. Tracy lived through a terrible tragedy and came out the other end in much the same way that Ernst Hemmingway stated in A Farewell To Arms.

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”

Imagine losing someone in the manner that events unfolded on that morning of January 31st, 1989. I encourage my readers to go back and read Brushes With The Unspeakable armed with this new information. Interestingly Tracy and I did speak today by phone and I was truly honored to hear that my story actually helped her to feel a better sense of comfort and closure relative to the human tragedy that unfolded; there is nothing more gratifying for a writer. I am still a bit unsure how my story helped, I am simply happy that it did, and I am buoyed by the human connection, made possible under the worst of circumstances. Tracy’s story is one of triumph as she did not lean into hate. In fact, she actually found a sense of compassion that was not, understandably, initially there. Roberta Pearce remains in prison at age 73 and the young killers were (apparently) freed at the age of 25 and have faded into oblivion (changed names, altered identities, and one would assume, saddled with the guilt of youth, now understood through the wisdom of age). No one will truly know how they actually feel. Except themselves… We are left to speculate.

Life is not fair, nor is it easy to understand. I do believe that things happen for a reason and that there are no coincidences. Only God knows the answers to the unknowable in our human existence. I am truly gratified by the blessings and opportunities afforded to me in this life; our family has experienced tragedy nonetheless, as we lost a precious young neice in a devastating accident several years ago. Terrible things can happen to any of us at any time, and yet there is abundant good. Moreover, History teaches all of us that the realities of man’s inhumanity to man truly knows no bounds, yet, we are still connected somehow in a way that is difficult to articualte yet easy to sense in the few remaining, quiet, uncluttered parts of our minds and souls.

12/31/2020 TMC

From: Tracy Magdalene wordpress@inveteratethinkerer.com
Sent: Wednesday, December 30, 2020 11:32 AMComment: Good Afternoon – I just read the blog post entitled Brushes with the Unspeakable, and I learned of the writer’s brush with the 1989 murder on Carol View Drive in Cardiff. I am very much interested in speaking with the writer because I am the woman with whom Wayne Pearce was involved at the time of his death. I know intimately the scene he describes upon his return to the complex, as I, too, had arrived to the same scene. This January will mark the anniversary of Wayne’s death. Roberta Pearce is still in a woman’s prison at the age of 73 (I just checked last week). I have had no connection with anyone who knows of this important and tragic event, and I would like to. I can be reached at the above email address. Thank you for your consideration.

Hi Tracy,

Wow.

Thank you for reading my write up on this. What a sad time that must have been for you.

Do you still live in the San Diego area? I can’t even imagine how you coped with something like that.

I would be very interested in hearing the events as they unfolded after the murder. The dissemination of news was so different then. Thank you again for reaching out and sharing the connection.

Best,

Thomas M. Cook

Hi Thomas —

Thank you so much for responding! I was intrigued by your article, and I’m surprised I didn’t come across it sooner. I have never spoken with anyone who had a connection to this event, and your description of what you saw upon coming back from your run was so vivid for me. I’m so very glad you wrote this, and I am so very glad that you were not harmed, in any of the three incidents in which you came so very close to being in harm’s way.

My life was thrown into some chaos on January 31st, to be sure. I was just 24 years old at the time; Wayne was some years older than I. We were very much in love, though, in that new, kind of euphoric way that is common to new relationships. Our roommate, Pamela, is the one who called the police/ambulance as I was in San Diego for a breakfast meeting that began at 6:00 am. Every Tuesday. I would come home right afterward and change my clothes to go to work. I came home to the same scene that you did. Pam also called my parents, and my father flew the both of us home to Massachusetts, and then Pam flew to her home in Texas after a week in MA with me. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since, with the exception of seeing her and spending time with her throughout the trial a year later. The majority of my time, though, was spent with the detectives, the prosecutor, and Wayne’s family. Oddly, I found myself feeling incredibly sorry for the two boys during the trial. They were so amped up on drugs and excited about the prospect of coming into a bunch of money. Roberta was their teacher, and to use that kind of authority to exploit them was and is unforgivable. To me. I look her up every year about this time. I don’t know why, but I just do. Other than that, I rarely think of her.

I should say that I have healed over Wayne’s death and how it came about, with some effort, some work, and with a lot of support from family and friends. I’ve been living in Northampton, MA ever since February of 1989, and I practice as a criminal defense lawyer in Springfield, MA. Your brush with the unspeakable in Boston also hit close to home because we seem to share a connection with Massachusetts as well. Although, two out of three close calls and I’m sort of connected to both? I’m glad the third had nothing to do with me. (A little bit of dark humor, here).

I did learn some things about what had actually taken place in the weeks/days prior to Wayne’s murder. Anthony Pilato and Isaac Hill (with Roberta’s help, of course) planned to shoot Wayne, and they had shown up at our apartment with that intention should he answer the door when they knocked. I, however, answered the door, and they asked for a person who didn’t live there, so I sent them on their way without another thought. You’re right. Sometimes we just don’t know how close we come to harm, and I, too, wonder if divine intervention steps in, if it’s a coincidence that makes us go left instead of right, or if we’re all just batshit crazy and winging it all the time. But it’s worth noting that their failed attempt that one evening brought them back to the apartment building on the morning at which you encountered your close call.

I would really like to discuss your experience over the telephone if you would be willing. Please know that it was just so shocking to see that article today, and it was also so comforting for some strange reason — that there’s someone out there who was there, like I was. If you wouldn’t be inconvenienced, would it be alright if I called to just chat for a few moments? If so, please let me know the best day and time. If you’re on the west coast, there’s the three hour time difference to consider. My cell is ———. Feel free to email or text. If you’d rather not, or if you think I’m some kind of crazy nut job, I get it. No worries.

In the meantime, please know that I am thankful for your article, so thank you ever so much for writing it. Finally, I’d just like to say that even though I don’t know you, I am happy that you are alive and well. I can’t help but think that things unfolded for you as they should have, whatever that means.

Be well,

Tracy