TODAY is the sad anniversary of Lillie Hefele’s death. She died so that forty four years later her killer or killers could become respectable after that big $350K seed money they got from her murder.
When Lillie met Gerry, they were instantly attracted to each other despite a twenty year difference in age. Gerry was at TSTI, an exchange student from Germany. He had the personality of ten and we all loved him. Well, that is except for Lillie’s oldest daughter, Debbie. Debbie sensed something just “wrong” about Gerry and that never got better. He’d come in, she’d go out. If only the rest of us had sensed what she did.
I was a witness at their wedding and that darling Judge Cabaniss officiated. They lived in a trailer on Robinson drive, Gerry got a job selling John Hancock Insurance and Lillie had little odd jobs and stayed home. She cooked, we made tamales and life was sweet, well, for a while that is.
At that time, way back in the 70’s I did minor insurance physicals for insurance companies that did what they called back then, “debit insurance”, which was small amount insurance that only needed a urine specimen, medical history, and blood pressure. I would go places with them from time to time and spent a lot of time with them all, the entire Morales family.
Somewhere in late ’78 or ’79 things went sour a bit and I didn’t see them much anymore. Jessica, Debbie’s baby girl was about three and one day Lillie popped in to my office and said she needed an insurance physical. It was for $150K and I didn’t think much of it, of course, she passed she was healthy as could be, 109 pounds of tiny spitfire.
A few weeks later she asked me if I’d keep Jessica for a few hours as she was going to Dr. Kleiman for another insurance physical. This struck a small alarm in my head and I asked her how much the policy was for and she said, “another $250,000”. I questioned this and she told me that Gerry was in a “contest” the prize was Las Vegas, and he wanted to win. I never heard of contest points given to an agent for selling to his family and I told her that, she answered that his boss, George Luther, had made selling to your family ok in this contest.
I didn’t question that and lived to regret it.
Gerry also took out a $300,000 policy on baby Jessica, a fact I didn’t know until a year or so ago.
The beneficiaries of the policy were her two daughters, Debbie and Gina, BUT, right after Lillie’s death, her own sister, Ninfa Morales Romanenko, now Garcia, got the girls to sign the check over to Gerry. She frightened them so much they did it. Of course, at the time, Ninfa was dating yet another gambler named Roger Bethke. Her involvement, and there was involvement is not known because no law enforcement has EVER truly questioned her. Believe me, the truth is one inch away from her lips, or at least it used to be and I am not the one that needs to hear it, law enforcement is.
Gerry began to have an affair with a stripper at SHOWTIME CLUB named, “Jane”, we called her “CHAIN”, as Gerry pronounced “j’s” and “G’s” as “CH”, so Jane was Chain and Gerry was Cherry and we laughed hysterically when he would talk. Well, until that bitch Chain.
They had difficulties, and one night I got a call from Lillie. She wanted me to see the new car, and two new rings Gerry had bought for her to make up for his infidelity with Chain. So we met at the PEACHTREE and it was packed so we sat at the bar. Lillie’s tiny skinny fingers were adorned with two guilt gift rings, one cascade of about twenty four little diamonds, and on the other hand, a two carat honker.
One of the best moments of my life came when “Chain”, walked straight up to my dear friend and announced, “Gerry loves me not you” and I stood up and had a nice altercation with “Chain”. Lillie was deflated. Lillie was beyond hurt. We walked out to her car, the car he had bought her to make it up to her, the car that contained her carefully bled out body in Ft. Worth. As there was no blood in the car and after he got it back, Gerry quickly sold it.
This was the cake my friend Lillie’s loving husband Gerry got for her and it was also the occasion for him gifting her that big, Cranberry Cadillac, her death car.
After this incident I didn’t see her again. It wasn’t long, after the incident at the Peachtree that I got a call in the middle of the night on February 26th. or 27th., I don’t remember what time, but I answered and there was nothing.
This is Gerry Hefele, he is now in Germany.
Lillie Hefele was found in Sansom Park in Ft. Worth on February 27th. 1980, today 46 years ago.
On the 27th. around nine I got a call from Ninfa Morales Romanenko, Lillie’s sister and my good friend also. She told me that Lillie was missing. Some story about Lillie going to Ft. Worth to pick up a recipe in the middle of the night.
It was not until recently that I found out that little Jessica was supposed to be with Lillie that night but at the last minute she did not go. Imagine. To murder a woman and a three year old girl, for insurance money.
We all stood at her grave in Oakwood, stunned. Her little fingers in that casket, so skinny, so tiny, no more diamond rings, the little cascade was gone, the big one they gave back to her dutiful husband, Gerry. A police siren began to blare somewhere off LaSalle and we all looked at one another and at Gerry, we all waited for that car to come and pick him up, but instead it just trailed off into the distance.
The last time I saw Gerry was at my house three months later, It was after midnight and he had just come from Peter Romanenko’s house, Pete was his ex brother in law, Pete refused to let Gerry stay and when I answered my door, he stood there as a dark colored Mustang pulled out of the alleyway by my duplex on Colcord. He walked maybe three feet to the corner of the room and hit the wall with his back as he crumpled to the floor head in hands. When I asked him who killed Lillie, he told me the name.
I fell asleep and in the morning he was gone.
Gerry is in Germany. He reads my blog religiously. WordPress, this blog’s mothership gives you the location or “pings” from the blog and Germany usually has “1” a day. That’s Gerry.
This woman, well, let’s call her “Chain”, she is alive, well and still wearing that two carat honker.
This case doesn’t even NEED DNA. What it does need is a Sheriff that has a Cold Case Squad that doesn’t pick and chose “worthy” victims.
Let Parnell McNamara know what a chicken shit he is. What a monster.
This is the anniversary of her death.
ONE of her killers put a cigar out on her. I could have lived my entire life without knowing that.
So for you Parnell ex lovers and current, THIS is your Sheriff.
H
