from the Phoenix New Times
It is 1988 in M c A llen, T exas. Irene Garza's portrait hangs in the living room of her aunt's home. The fair-skinned girl is hauntingly beautiful.
Another family member stops by the house for a visit. Noemi Ponce-Sigler happens upon the portrait and looks into the eyes of the girl. She gets the feeling Irene's looking back.
And a question comes into Noemi's mind that has been troubling her since:
'Who killed you, Irene?'
It is the Friday following G ood F riday, April I960, in McAllen. Police come to the door ofJosephina and Nick Garza's home. They are there to tell the couple that their daughter, Irene, has been found dead in a nearby canal. She had been beaten. It appeared from bruises inside her thighs that her attacker had tried to rape her.
Josephina's body spasms. She collapses to her knees.
And out of her mouth comes a sound so mournful that it has become the stuff of legend in this border town.
'They said it was this long, awful moan from deep inside her body-almost like the howl of a wolf,' a niece of Josephina's describes. 'They said it was like nothing they had ever heard or ever heard again.'
The family's parish priest, Joseph O'Brien, comforted Josephina by telling her that Irene died in a state of grace. After all, she was last seen alive on her way to confession.
The fact was, though, O'Brien had no idea if the cleric Irene saw, Father John Feit-a visiting priest at O'Brien's parish-ever gave her confession.
O'Brien held back another important fact from the Garzas that day:
He was confident he knew who had killed their daughter.
Police had the McA llen canal, in which Irene's body was found, drained a few days later.
They found a nearly new slide projector just feet from the spot where the young woman's body had been dragged into the canal. Police told local newspaper reporters they believed this was the clue that would break the case. Clearly, the murderer had used the heavy chunk of equipment, complete with a long cord, to sink Irene's body to the muddy floor of the canal…
After a headline story in the McAllen paper about the projector, area newspapers never mentioned this clue again.
Police sought the owner of the projector. Eight days after Irene's body was found, they received this note:
This viewer belongs to Fr. John Feit (Order of Mary Immaculate), of San Juan, Texas.
It was purchased in Port Isabel, Texas, in July, 1959, at Freddies Professional Pharmacy.
Terms-cash.
Price-I don't remember. April 29, I960.
Police already knew the young priest was the last person to see Irene Garza alive.
John B. Feit later became the prime suspect in the Garza murder, as well as in an attempted sexual assault of a young woman in a nearby Catholic church three weeks earlier.
Feit wound up pleading no contest to assault charges in the earlier case. He was fined five hundred dollars.
But Feit was never charged in the murder of Irene Garza.
Instead, according to one of his supervisors, the Archdiocese of San Antonio and the Order of Mary Immaculate 'shipped him away' for 'rehabilitation' at a series of monasteries in Texas, Iowa, Missouri, and, finally, New Mexico.
Feit left the priesthood ten years later to marry a young AT &T worker he met at a church in Albuquerque. In the late 1970s, Feit, his wife, and three children moved to the Arcadia district of Phoenix, where the family became active in the nearby St. Theresa church.
As a layman in Phoenix, John B. Feit has, by all appearances, become a model citizen. For much of that time, he has been a lead organizer of charitable programs for the Phoenix chapter of the Society of St.Vincent de Paul, where longtime coworkers describe him as a tireless advocate for the poor.
Phoenix Police Department investigators tell New Times there are no cold-case files in the Valley that match the modus operandi in the Irene Garza murder or the I960 aggravated assault in which Feit pleaded no contest.
Even in retirement, Feit spends much of his days counseling and helping the infirm or disadvantaged. At his local parish, Feit is one of the organizers of the JustFaith program, an intensive educational program designed to help Catholics put their belief into action on social justice issues.
But this angel in Phoenix remains a devil in McAllen, Texas.
There-with renewed interest in the murder of Irene Garza, along with new evidence in the case-citizens are clamoring for an indictment ofJohn Feit.
The old evidence, much of which has been reviewed by New Times, makes a strong case that their quest for justice is warranted.
The new evidence-which includes testimony from two of Feit's closest associates, who say the ex-priest confessed to them that he killed Irene Garza-seems to make a case against him a slam dunk.
Yet the district attorney in south Texas, in whose jurisdiction the murder occurred, seems content to let things die.
Feit also wants the case to die. He has said, 'I did not kill Irene Garza.'
In that sentence begins an even deeper mystery, one that may only be solved by understanding a brilliant man's own concepts of faith, contrition, justice, and personality.
When asked by a reporter at his Arcadia home if he should be considered a danger to the community, he yelled: 'Look at my record for the last forty-five years!'
Irene Garza's body was thrown in a McAllen canal on Easter Sunday, 1960-forty-five years and two months ago.
The week before Easter, 1960, had been unusually hot along the Texas-Mexico border. With highs already touching the nineties, residents of the valley surrounding McAllen were predicting a long, dismal summer.
Throughout the week, young adults raised in the area were streaming back to McAllen from college or new jobs. The Easter vacation was a time to see old friends, maybe even to rekindle or start a love affair.
The scuttlebutt among some returning young men was that Irene Garza was no longer seeing Sonny Martinez.
This was big news. Irene, as one unrequited suitor wrote, 'was the closest thing to an angel' he'd ever met.
So bright, so beautiful, such a sweetheart, such a good heart.
Irene was the first in her family to go to college. After graduation, she returned to do what she had set out to do: teach disadvantaged children in McAllen.
She taught second grade at a school south of the railroad tracks, the line between the haves and the have-nots, the Anglos and the Hispanics, the longtime Mexican Americans and the new immigrants.
She spent her first paycheck on books and clothing for her students. She spent early mornings, late evenings, and weekends giving her students extra learning and fun. She worked with the local PTA.
Her students, she admitted in letters, were becoming her children, her life. She wanted her students to be able to cross the tracks if they chose to.
Like she had done. Irene Garza had become the first Hispanic twirler and head drum majorette at the Anglo-dominated McAllen High School, just a year after her parents' prospering dry-cleaning business had allowed them to afford a house north of the tracks.
Irene was Prom Queen and Homecoming Queen at Pan American College. She was Miss All South Texas Sweetheart 1958.
The catty teenage girls in her old neighborhood blamed her success on her light skin and bone structure and on her Doris Day-style clothes. She was tall and thin, as well as proper and dainty in pillbox hats and high heels.
To some of the little girls in her old neighborhood, though, she was a goddess.
'I can still see her,' says Noemi Ponce-Sigler, the cousin of Irene's, who was ten when she died. 'She was so beautiful and so good to us kids. [To] a little girl, she just seemed like everything you'd want to be.'
Irene Garza, though, never saw herself in such a positive light.
She was humble to a fault, so humble that she sometimes floundered in self-doubt. As she gained confidence in her mid-twenties, she came to believe that her longtime boyfriend, Sonny, was a smothering force in her life. In her breakup letter to him, after providing a lengthy list of her own faults ('Extremely sensitive,' 'withdrawn,' 'jealous,' 'fearful,' 'serious,' 'my proportions'), she explained how Sonny made her 'feel inferior and insecure.' She even made a list of what she believed Sonny needed in a girl:
'A self-confident female, a happy girl, a girl with just a little jealousy that's enough to feed your ego, a girl not easily hurt, a girl who makes your burden easier to carry.'
And, apparently, from the girls Sonny had liked to ogle when they were out together:'A girl 38-22-38.'
Sonny admitted his frustration at having a flat-chested girlfriend who, instead of having sex with him, wanted to talk about children and God.
It was true that Irene was attending church more often, seeking, she told friends in letters, 'to better understand and serve God's will.' As for men, she told friends she wanted to marry and have a big family, but she wasn't going to push the issue. And she wasn't going to let Sonny define her anymore.
Irene wrote to a friend just before Easter that she had gone on a few dates with two men, one of whom she described as 'this Anglo boy-not real handsome, but cute and religious (which is important). He is a member of the Legion of Mary and goes to Mass and receives Holy Communion every morning.'
When she disappeared, police first assumed she had run off with a man. Police interviewed dozens of young men who had shown interest in dating her.
Her family and friends knew better.
When she borrowed her father's car the Saturday night before Easter, she said she was going to church for confession and that she would be right back.
Irene always did what she said she would do. Besides, she was dressed casually. She had taken none of her possessions.
Irene was helping plan the Easter egg hunt the next morning for the children of the parish. Her family speculated that she may have had to talk to a priest about the logistics of the event.
Family members believe that is why she telephoned the church before leaving the house, asking to meet with a priest.
Father John Feit, a guest priest at the church helping out with the pre-Easter confession crunch, answered the phone.
Irene Garza then drove the twelve blocks to the church to meet with Feit.
Feit's story of what happened next changed several times over the following weeks and years. Now, he refuses to speak about that meeting or the critical hours and days that followed.
Two years ago, after the case had been reopened, a Texas Ranger called Feit at his Phoenix home.
The Ranger asked Feit to speak to him about his role in the events that Easter weekend in I960. Feit's answer was as opaque as it was potentially illuminating:
'That man doesn't exist anymore,' he said, hanging up the phone.
