Cover image for While innocents slept : a story of revenge, murder, and SIDS
While innocents slept : a story of revenge, murder, and SIDS
Havill, Adrian.
Personal Author:
First edition.
Publication Information:
New York : St. Martin's Press, [2001]

Physical Description:
xvii, 250 pages, 8 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations ; 25 cm
Personal Subject:
Format :


Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
Item Holds
HV6541.U62 M375 2001 Adult Non-Fiction Open Shelf
HV6541.U62 M375 2001 Adult Non-Fiction Open Shelf
HV6541.U62 M375 2001 Adult Non-Fiction Open Shelf

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Death seemed to be part of Garrett Wilson's life. Both of his parents had died by the time he was in his early twenties. So friends shrugged when sadly, an infant daughter, and then a son, succumbed to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Six years later, after he divorced his wife, Missy, and married another woman, his former spouse became convinced that their child's passing was anything but natural.

Was it cold-blooded murder by Garrett, or a quest for revenge by his ex-wife? Missy's own investigation that led to Garrett Wilson's arrest and eventual trial will keep the reader guessing until the final pages. Havill takes us through each stage of this intricate and chilling story all the way to the courtroom, where the jury's stunning verdict is given.

Acclaimed author Adrian Havill conducted nineteen in-person interviews with the accused both before and after his trial. He had full access to both the defense and prosecution teams. The result is an unprecedented look at a murder investigation and an edge-of-the-seat real-life medical thriller that stretches from Maryland to Texas and Florida.

Author Notes

Adrian Havill is the author of The Mother, The Son, And the Socialite: The True Story of a Mother-Son Crime . He has also written several biographies, including The Last Mogul: The Unauthorized Biography of Jack Kent Cooke, Deep Truth: The Lives of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, Man of Steel: The Career and Courage of Christopher Reeve, and contributed to Juice: The O.J. Simpson Tragedy . He lives in Virginia with his wife, Georgiana. They have two children.

Reviews 2

Publisher's Weekly Review

This disturbing true-crime tale by veteran author Havill (The Mother, the Son, and the Socialite, etc.) recounts the horrific saga of Garrett Wilson, a man who was convicted of killing two of his infant children for insurance money and is now serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Havill, who interviewed Wilson in prison and had access to both prosecutors and defense lawyers, describes Wilson's penchant for deceit as a smooth-talking womanizer and embezzler who twice tried to mask his stealing of funds as robbery. In 1980, in his mid-20s, he married Debbie Oliver, a 16-year-old who was five months pregnant with his child. Their baby daughter's death at two months was attributed to sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS), a broadly defined cause of death that is not well understood by doctors. Wilson took his wife on a vacation with the $40,000 life insurance policies he had taken out on the baby's life. History repeated itself in 1988 when another baby, a five-month-old son that Wilson had with Missy Anastasi, whom he married after divorcing Debbie, also died of SIDS and Wilson collected on a $100,000 policy. Missy became convinced that he had murdered their child, and Havill traces her long legal battle for justice. At the time of his arrest, Wilson was again remarried and with a young daughter. Although his third wife, Vicky, testified to his innocence and still takes their daughter regularly to visit Wilson in prison, she, too, eventually divorced him. Child murder is a difficult subject to broach, but devotees of the true-crime genre may be drawn to this account. Photos not seen by PW. (Jan.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

Library Journal Review

Biographer Havill?? here gives an account of an obscure murder trial that reads like a mystery novel. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) is a tragedy for any family, but after two of her husband's children died, ex-wife Missy Anastasi suspected not tragedy but murder. Seemingly loving husband and father Garrett Wilson took out large insurance policies on his infant children, both of whom died soon after. But the last death had occurred seven years earlier, Wilson's third child was still alive, and Missy made her accusation only after she had been replaced by a new wife. Was it murder, or was it the vengeful fantasy of a woman scorned? As the sordid details of Garrett's life unfold, the reader may have few doubts about the outcome, but the chase and the trial itself provide plenty of suspense. This well-written book about a relatively unknown case belongs in all true-crime collections.DDeirdre Bray Root, Middletown P.L., OH (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.



Chapter One A LONER IN FRIENDLY When Ethel Mae Garrett wanted to impress people, she would tell them she was descended from the Garrett tobacco family of Virginia. The boast was only partly true. She was born in Pamplin, North Carolina, in 1921 while her father, Kendrick Garrett, worked for the Tar Heel State, building dams and bringing electricity to thousands. His family had once been the Garretts of Garrett Snuff, a branded brown dust manufactured in Lynchburg, the beginning of the Bible Belt in Virginia. One could choose to either tuck a pinch of the powder below the lower lip, hold it inside the cheek, or inhale the mixture into and through the nostrils before spitting the residue into the dirt. All three methods forced the nicotine to seep into wet exposed tissue, providing an addictive jolt of cheap pleasure.     Ethel was one often. Her mother, Araminta, specialized in popping out babies as if they were sugar peas fresh from the pod. She produced one child each year throughout the 1920s. Most were girls. By that time she truly could claim to be a Garrett of Virginia. Kendrick had moved the family to Burkeville in Nottoway County after the Great Depression began. This time he built dams and bridges for one of Franklin Roosevelt's creations--the Civilian Conservation Corps--out of a nearby army base called Camp Pickett.     Araminta and Kendrick's home was on South Agnew Street. It was a big, white, five-bedroom house with four columns in front, one of the largest homes in town. Black potbellied stoves heated it in the winter. In the summer, there were ceiling fans to move the hot, humid air.     Burkeville, population five hundred, was fifty-five miles southwest of Richmond. Outside the town, the land was justly famed for a loamy soil, which produced the highest grades of flue-cured, premium tobacco. Curing sheds, where temperatures shot up to 120 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer as workers stacked the harvested leaves inside them, dotted the rolling green fields of Nottoway County.     Araminta was an exotic moniker, but her son and daughters had plain, traditional names. The siblings were Mary, Edith, Faye, Lucie, Willard, Bobby, and Harriet. One girl, Virginia, was a victim of Down syndrome. Araminta lost another son giving birth.     Most of the Garrett brood had reached its teens by the time the world's financial markets crashed. Living in a farming village such as Burkeville cushioned the blow. The Garretts felt the effect of the Depression far less than the unfortunates of the big cities.     By the end of the thirties, Kendrick was dead from a heart ailment and all of the younger Garretts were adults. With the exception of Virginia, they began streaming out of Burkeville. Most heeded the siren call from Washington. In the pages of National Geographic , they had lingered over the photos of the buildings and monuments in the great capital. Now it came to life before their eyes. On the banks of the great Potomac River, each of them sought a prize--the stability of a government job. Paychecks with a federal seal never bounced. When you reached sixty-five, you got a pension. What more could one want? Ethel Garrett, a five foot seven, handsome, round-faced woman who friends thought resembled Shelley Winters, had one of these coveted positions when she was eighteen. She was soon wed, and life seemed perfect.     But her modest fairy-tale beginning would have an unhappy ending. In later life, Ethel would claim that her first husband was "impotent" and that the wedding had been a sham from the start. After a decade in this near-sexless marriage that produced no children, the union was annulled.     Her closest confidante in Washington became Iris Young, who worked with Ethel at the Department of Agriculture. Iris had made her way to the nation's capital from West Virginia. The two women became so intertwined in each other's lives that when Ethel became engaged to Howard Eldred Wilson III and Iris to Carl Farley, the pair planned their weddings fourteen days apart so each could attend the other's nuptials.     Eldred--he never used his first name or the fancy Roman numerals--was considered handsome, a corner. His great-grandparents had arrived in Washington more than a century earlier from Scotland. Whether fact or fantasy, it was part of Wilson family lore that somewhere near Edinburgh was a castle in which their ancestors had once resided.     A native of the federal city; he had been a star tennis player in his youth and voted "Most Likely to Succeed" in 1926 by his class at Eastern High School. For a while he seemed to be headed for broadcast stardom. In the 1930s he was chosen to read the Sunday comics with Arthur Godfrey on a local radio station, long before the broadcaster began his CBS career.     When Eldred was a young man, his widowed mother acquired a stately home on McArthur Boulevard, a major thoroughfare in the far western corner of Washington. Eldred's sister, Eleanor, and her husband, Donald Ward, joined her in the large house. Eldred's mother would live to be ninety-eight. If genes were a factor, her son had every right to expect a long and healthy life.     Eldred had gone to a local business college named for Benjamin Franklin, which specialized in accounting and financial courses. He had parlayed this business education into a career at Lincoln National Bank, which later merged into the city's largest financial institution, Riggs Bank. In 1947, he learned that the U.S. House of Representatives wanted a professional banker to supervise its payroll inside the Sergeant at Arms office. Eldred, who was about to celebrate his fortieth birthday, jumped at the chance. He was immediately hired to the post, considered a plum position.     "I never understood why they want government desk jobs," remembered Carl Farley. The husband of Ethel's best friend managed a series of wholesale food warehouses. Farley's job allowed him to go from the inside of the building to the outside several times a day.     Ethel wed Eldred on August 11, 1951. Iris and Carl's ceremony was held on the twenty-fifth. None of their friends thought it peculiar that Eldred was forty-three, thirteen years older than his wife. Instead, they were happy that Ethel had found happiness after the disastrous first marriage. Eldred also carried personal history into the marriage. He had once fathered a child with a girlfriend and named the boy after himself. The two married for a short time, but when he divorced the woman, he failed to support her or his son. He had also married a second time, with that alliance quickly going sour. Ethel whispered these secrets to Iris, and the stories became common knowledge.     Ethel quit her nine-to-five government job. She was determined to spend the rest of her life as Eldred's wife and a mother of many children.     They newlyweds shared a love of bowling. Both became involved in recreational leagues, showing up at the local lanes until their health faltered. They also liked to play cards. There were no other joint activities.     Separately, Ethel attended meetings of the Eastern Star, the female branch of the Masonic Fraternity. Eldred's sport was baseball. As a teen, he had sold peanuts at Griffith Stadium, then the home of the American League's underachieving Washington Senators. During the long summers, so hot and humid that a foggy mist rose from the city's two rivers as morning dawned, he contented himself by listening to each Senators' game on WTOP, the home team's play-by-play radio voice.     The two women were so emotionally close to one another, it seemed natural that the first homes the Wilsons and Farleys purchased were less than two blocks apart. In the early 1950s, home ownership was a tangible sign of affluence. Their small starter homes were fifteen minutes from the Capitol, across the Anacostia River, up a hill from Bolling Air Force Base, and about a mile from the Maryland state line. The Farley's house on First Street Southwest wasn't that much different from the Wilson's home on Second Street.     "They had a brick house with some stonework in front and a concrete retaining wall," John Farley, the eldest of Carl and Iris Farley's three children, recalled. John, born in January of 1956, would be followed by Stephen and then Linda, all in the space of five years.     Ethel and Eldred finally had a son of their own on June fourteenth, but having children had not been easy. In the first five years of marriage the Wilsons had seen three chances at parenthood go bad. The first baby was stillborn, and the other two infants died from undiagnosed illnesses during the first three months of life. (Continues...)