I really do feel like a scumbag journalist sometimes. I get it. Nobody likes a knock on the door from an unexpected reporter. But if I'm knocking on your door, or showing up at your apartment, it's because I've had no luck contacting you via Facebook, phone, and email. Still, it sucks all around. For me. For them.
Today I finally met Maura's older sister, Julie, who lives in Virginia. The conversation was brief as the man she was with would not let her talk. He was an attorney, too, so, yeah.
"I can tell you, finding my sister is still the number one priority," she said. "That's number one. Nothing else matters, none of that other stuff matters."
I could tell she is still very broken up about her sister's disappearance to this day and she takes issue with some of the things I've written about her father.
"Is he a hardass? Yes. Did he drive us hard? Yes. Is he the best father a girl could have? Yes."
She says I've gotten some information wrong but would not name specifics.
She let me ask just one question: what was Fred Murray doing in Amherst the weekend before Maura's disappearance.
"I can tell you exactly why he was there," she began. Then the man she was with (possibly husband, though we were never introduced) told her not to answer or say anything more.
"I told the police," Julie said. "But I don't think I could tell you. It's an open investigation."
As always, with all the secrecy and run-around, I'm just left with more questions.