Maryann Measles: Gone, but not forgotten

I struggled for weeks trying to decide what I should write about for Brenda Keller’s 30th anniversary. Every time I thought about Brenda, I couldn’t come up with anything that would do her justice.

After weeks of frustration, I finally asked for help. My wife, who has probably heard too much about this story the last five years, wiped out the writer’s block with one sentence: “Instead of focusing on honoring her by writing about her, which you’re already doing, why don’t you write about some of these other little girls you tell me about whose stories haven’t been told?”

I resisted at first, thinking to myself, “I’m here to tell Brenda’s story.” Then I remembered who Brenda was: a kind, generous person who went out of her way to help others. That really hit home in 2017 when I interviewed her parents and asked them about Jon Mareska Jr., the man who killed Brenda.

“Brenda would have talked to Jon,” her mother said. “She would have helped him.”

I realized that my wife had the idea for this blog entry. And I knew immediately who I needed to write about. Maryann Measles and Brenda didn’t have a lot in common, but they shared the unfortunate bond of being murdered before their lives started.

Maryann was a popular girl at her junior high in New Milford, Connecticut, but “had a reputation of being too independent for someone so young,” according to an article in the Hartford Courant in 1998. She hung out with an older crowd, smoking cigarettes and often finding trouble at school.

That older crowd proved to be fatal. A few months after Maryann started hanging out with a group that included several people who were more than 18 years old, her mother filed statutory rape charges against a 19- and 21-year-old man. Not only were those two men angry about those charges, but also their girlfriends that Maryann had sex with their boyfriends.

“I talked to Maryann and told her everyone was mad at her because she was trying to step on everyone’s territory,” one of the girlfriend’s said in an affidavit.

Not long after the statutory rape charges were filed, Maryann disappeared from a parking lot while her mother went into a grocery story. Cindi Measles never saw her daughter again. Eight months later, Maryann’s body was found floating in Lake Lillinonah, just a few miles away in Bridgewater, Connecticut.

Like Brenda, Maryann suffered a violent, brutal death. Her body was wrapped in a blanket and chains. For four years after the discovery, little was known about the murder, even though one of the men who participated in the homicide openly bragged about it in New Milford.

That changed in 2002 when eight people — five men and three women — were arrested. According to court documents, several of the suspects forced Maryann into a van and drove her near the lake, where others were waiting. Three men took turns raping the 13-year-old, then several of the men and women admitted beating and screaming at her. Then, two of the men held Maryann’s head under water until she died.

I know about Maryann only because I happened to have a subscription to Rolling Stone in May 2003. In an edition featuring the rock band Good Charlotte on the cover, the magazine detailed the grisly murder. It was a captivating and incredibly sad piece, and it reminded me of Brenda.

As in Brenda’s case, the family at least received some closure with the convictions of those responsible for the crime. Two of the women received 30 years and the other 50 years in prison. The men received sentences of 36, 47, 50, 110 years and life. I did not name them here because they aren’t the story. All but one of them is where they belong (one of the women was released in 2019).

Like Brenda, Maryann’s death had a ripple effect. Her mother relentlessly sought justice for her daughter, but bears the daily struggle of life without her child. Her sisters honor her with a Facebook page loaded with memories of Maryann and updates any time one of the murderers appeals their sentence or is up for parole.

One of the many things I’ve learned while writing the book about Brenda is nothing happens by accident. Everything has a purpose. I didn’t know her while she was on this planet, but I know her now that she’s in the next life.

I didn’t know Maryann, either, and for years I wondered why I was fascinated by her case. Then I read the Rolling Stone story again and saw the date she died: Oct. 19, 1997, six years to the day after Brenda died.

Rest in peace, Maryann.