DASTARDLY DADS FROM THE ARCHIVES (Greenville, New York - 1998)

Observe that once again, there were plenty of warning signs involving dad PATRICK FITZGERALD, who murdered his wife, 7-year-old daughter, and 4-year-old son before offing himself in September 1998. We had a mom who pleaded in vain against the "big blue shield" to take her husband's abusive behavior seriously. All to no avail. On another occasion, the state police were called on a domestic violence complaint, but authorities dropped the matter when the mom "didn't want to sign a complaint against her husband." Hmm. And why do you think that was so? Maybe because she knew this guy who was a loose cannon who was perfectly capable of killing them all? (A fear that proved absolutely correct in retrospect.) Mom also made two efforts to apply for custody, and to obtain an order of protection.

But as if operating straight out of the fathers rights handbook, Daddy Fitzgerald knew just what to do:

Step #1: Muddy the waters. This involves the abuser ALSO applying for child custody and an order of protection. This strategy assumes that the authorities don't know that "muddy the waters" is a known abuser strategy--or don't really care. In the meantime, the authorities flash that deer-in-the-headlights look, freeze, and leave the mother and children strung up and out to dry.

Step #2: Nuts or sluts! Choose one label or both. The mother of your children is either crazy and/or sexually promiscuous slut who's boinking a different guy each night. This Daddy went for nuts. Even though the murdered mom's sister explains that the mother was only "depressed" because of the abuse (natural, predictable, and completely understandable), Daddy's muchachos insist on labeling the mother as having a "psychiatric illness"--and in fact use the "fact" of her mental illness to excuse/explain away the murder of three people! Not by Mom, but by somebody else, which is the guy she had claimed all along was violent! No, that doesn't make sense to me either. (Point of record: the mother was NEVER formally diagnosed as having any mental illness--a "fact" the reporter failed to pursue.)

Step #3: Get you buddies to insist what an "outstanding guy" you are--in fact, have them insist you're an "outstanding guy" even after you've PROVED yourself capable of slaughtering three people in a bloody spree killing. In fact go one step further: Even after real life events have proved that you're a cold-blooded killer and that your victim wasn't crazy or deluded in her fears of you at all, you STILL manage to get the press to repeat the same old discredited lies and smears for you, while the press barely speaks to Mom's family or friends for any "balance" at all.

In fact, there are more words of praise here for the triple killer than for any of the victims combined. What does that tell you about media bias and domestic homicide?

http://www.th-record.com/1998/11/02/ommmemor.htm

Remembering a family
Greenville dedicates memorial bench to Fitzgeralds
By OLIVER MACKSON
Staff Writer

GREENVILLE – When Ashley Fitzgerald signed up to play flag football with the Green Mighty Mites of the Minisink Youth Football League, Coach Lou Szymanski remembered that her father, Patrick, gave her a chance to change her mind.

"He asked her, 'Are you sure you don't want to be a cheerleader?'" Szymanski recalled yesterday.

The 7-year-old laughed, playfully punched her father's arm and said, "No, Dad, I want to play football."

Yesterday, Ashley Fitzgerald's teammates trudged past weeping adults to drape her green and white jersey over a wooden bench, dedicated outside Minisink Elementary School in memory of Ashley and her 4-year-old brother Shane.

The children and their mother, Leeanne Fitzgerald, 38, were shot to death Sept. 25 in their Greenville home by Patrick Fitzgerald.

Moments before they were killed, Ashley Fitzgerald called 911, frantically telling the operator her father was going to kill her mother.

After he killed his family, Patrick Fitzgerald shot and killed himself. He was 39.

About 100 people gathered behind the school yesterday to dedicate the bench, a wooden windmill and a plaque in memory of Leeanne Fitzgerald and her children.

The Fitzgeralds had moved to a house on Greenville Turnpike in 1989, a two-hour drive from their native Queens. Leeanne Fitzgerald's sister, Arlene Lee, recalled yesterday that the move caused some of Leeanne's relatives to worry that she was too far away from her family.

"This town has now become her family. And for that, we thank you," Lee said, struggling to maintain her composure.

Her daughter, Jaime, 16, read a poem in memory of her aunt and her cousins.

As the Rev. Bert VanSoest led a prayer for the Fitzgeralds, a chilly wind turned the blades of the windmill. Some people sobbed.

Some bit the sleeves of their coats to muffle their sobs.

Leeanne's teammates wore their football jerseys. The members of her Brownie troop wore their sashes.

"It was just so nice, that everybody showed up with their sashes," said Terri Hirsch, the leader of Ashley's Brownie troop.

Local businesses and friends of the Fitzgeralds donated money for the memorial.

"They did make a remarkable impact on our community in the time they were here," Supervisor Tim McDonald said. "We are a small community and we do know one another very well."

Before the ceremony ended, other children came forward with mementos they carefully placed on the bench – A bouquet of sunflowers, a small pumpkin, Ashley's jersey.

The football league's director, Joe Deserto, had high praise for the Minisink School District for its efforts to comfort Ashley's classmates and the community after the killings.

Deserto's son, Eric, sat next to Ashley in school and was on her football team.

"The job of a school is to be supportive, particularly of the students and the staff," Superintendent Harvey Hilburgh said.

"I really have to commend the staff. They've been wonderful."

New York City police are investigating the circumstances surrounding the bloodiest single day in the history of Greenville, a town of 3,200.

Among other things, police have said they are trying to flesh out allegations that Leeanne Fitzgerald tried in vain to get someone in the NYPD to listen to her complaints about her husband's abusive behavior.

Those allegations have been made by Arlene Lee and a woman who baby-sat for the Fitzgeralds.
A police department spokesman, Lt. Sean Crowley, said the investigation is far from finished.
To date, police have revealed only that in 1994, Patrick Fitzgerald sought counseling, for reasons that weren't made clear.

Also on Friday, State Police said toxicology tests showed Patrick Fitzgerald had a blood alcohol concentration of .19 at the time of the shootings. That's nearly twice of the legal limit for driving.

Two of Patrick Fitzgerald's longtime friends, Jerry Sadrakula of Rockland County and Anthony Fernandez, who lives near Albany, said that a few years ago, Leeanne Fitzgerald showed up at the 34th Precinct in upper Manhattan. That was where her husband was assigned.

She demanded to speak with Fitzgerald's commander.

Sadrakula also said Leeanne Fitzgerald suffered from severe bouts of depression and had been diagnosed with a psychiatric illness.

But in an interview two days after the shootings, Arlene Lee said her sister was depressed only because of abuse she suffered at the hand of her husband.

Michael Bowman, who was best man at the Fitzgeralds' wedding, said the man he grew up with in Woodside, Queens, wasn't violent, wasn't a heavy drinker and was "an outstanding guy."

When they played football together, he said, "We used to scream at him, because he wouldn't hit anybody."

Bowman comes from a cop family; he said he was the one who convinced Fitzgerald to join the department in 1986.

"What happened? God only knows. The only thing I can say is, if there's a heaven, I hope there's one for the kids," Bowman said in a recent interview.

"The real tragedy is that these deaths may have been prevented, had the rage that had been building up in Patrick, at his inability to remedy Leeanne's illness and its impact upon his family been curtailed through some type of therapeutic management. Instead, this rage claimed the lives of four people," Sadrakula said in a letter to The Times Herald-Record.

He also wrote, "I join with all of Patrick's childhood friends from Queens in extending our condolences to Leeanne's family on their loss. It is indeed difficult to find a sense of healing when tragic circumstances, beyond our understanding, claim the lives of loved ones."

In February 1994, State Police were called to the family's home on Greenville Turnpike to answer a domestic violence complaint. Records – which had to be researched by hand and weren't available the day after the shooting – show there was no action taken because Leeanne Fitzgerald didn't want to sign a complaint against her husband.

Between 1994 and 1996, documents show that the Fitzgeralds each filed petitions in Orange County Family Court seeking custody of their children. They also filed for orders of protection against one another.

But the action never moved forward in court because the Fitzgeralds wouldn't show up for scheduled appearances, said David Bookstaver, a spokesman for the state Office of Court Administration.

In April 1996, Patrick Fitzgerald filed for divorce from his wife. But that, too, was eventually dropped.

Patrick Fitzgerald wasn't mentioned by name during yesterday's ceremony. He is buried in a separate grave from his wife and children.