Don't Tell a Soul

by M. William Phelps

  “What?” It was a peculiar question to begin a conversation.

  “The Tyler news—have you seen it today?” KC asked again.

  Suzanne was sitting in her car in the parking lot where she worked, trying to have her lunch.

  “No,” Suzanne said. “I don’t watch the news that much, Kim.”

  KC became “agitated more than normal,” Suzanne recalled.

  “Kim, what’s wrong?”

  “My babysitter is dead!”

  “Which one?”

  Suzanne was expecting to hear KC say, “The old-lady babysitter” or “The young babysitter,” which was how she had always described both. But KC came out with it: “Cherry Walker,” she said, and it was the first time Suzanne had heard that name. “They found my babysitter Cherry.”

  “Oh, my . . .”

  “Yes, on Saturday, they found Cherry.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “It was in the papers.”

  Suzanne went back to work and Googled the name: Cherry Walker.

  She scrolled through the results, but found nothing. Not a word about Cherry Walker being found dead. This was weird. She was certain Kim had told her the name and said she’d seen it in the newspapers. Or on television. But there was nothing on the Internet.

  Suzanne Googled various words to try and find any story she could about Cherry Walker: a dead babysitter, a dead woman and so on, and finally came up with a news story about a “body being found on Saturday.” That was it, though. A body. No name. No details.

  Cherry Walker would not be identified publicly until that Wednesday.

  When Wednesday, June 23, came, Suzanne received what she later called a “cryptic e-mail” from KC. It was in the morning, at 10:46. KC wrote: If you don’t hear from me by Friday, call [the secretary] at Buck Files’ [office] to find me. I’m stranded right now. She went on to say that the SCSO had taken her “house, purse, phone, car, money.” Ending the brief note, she said, That’s all I can say.

  Buck Files was a well-known criminal defense attorney in Tyler.

  What in the world is going on with her? Suzanne wondered.

  Confused, Suzanne tapped a message back: Who did? See, you need that power of attorney.

  As she thought about it, Suzanne considered that KC was referring to what had happened back in March with Brian and her potential arrest on those child abuse charges. She assumed that’s what all of KC’s problems centered on.

  Do you need me to come and get you? Suzanne wrote back to KC.

  They may get your info from my phone—refer them to my attorney! KC darted right back.

  Yes, I will. Or mine, Suzanne responded.

  I have nothing in my possession, KC wrote back in an e-mail. She said the SCSO had “seized all.” They wouldn’t allow her any money. She claimed she’d eaten only “twice since yesterday.” She explained that she would know more after meeting with her attorney later that same day.

  Suzanne encouraged KC to tell her attorney that she was willing to accept KC into her house: Unless he’s putting you up or getting you back into your house.

  KC said she couldn’t remain homeless and was “concerned” the SCSO “would create evidence” against her. There was some urgency in her note here as KC finished by stating, The worst may have happened. Please don’t forget me. . . .

  26

  SUZANNE JONES-DAVIS DID NOT HEAR from KC again until June 29. By that time KC had been arrested on Injury to a Child charges and was in jail. Suzanne had no idea KC had even been arrested until a phone call from the prison computer came one night and asked Suzanne to press zero to accept a call from an inmate at Smith County Jail.

  After accepting the call, realizing it was KC, Suzanne was aghast. Why was KC in jail? Had things run that far off the rails for her?

  KC had a way of leading up to the devilish deeds she wanted people to perform on her behalf. She wasn’t one to come out and ask bluntly for a nefarious favor, because she understood those types of demands made people think more deeply about what they were going to do. Instead, she carefully plied one of her minions with that “poor me” persona she had mastered and used time and again. Over the course of a few days, she would make the person believe she was being railroaded, or at least blamed, for something she had not done. Her minion would help her out in that regard; the request would be met with a bit more warmth and enthusiasm.

  “Can you get to my house and get some things out of it for me?” KC asked during a phone call she made to Suzanne from Smith County Jail. It seemed that KC had no one else to lean on, no other friends she could count on or trust.

  Suzanne later recalled these items KC requested: “Mementos, photos . . . some specific children’s paintings [from a closet] . . . a jersey,” which hung on a wall and “said ‘Cargill’ [on the back], and some clothes. . . .”

  It seemed like an innocent, simple, common request. They were personal items. KC wanted to make sure nobody else got them.

  On July 1, 2010, guards seized a note from KC as she was being searched before a visit with an old friend, Michael Darwin (pseudonym). The note had been addressed to herself. KC was thinking about making a list of the (additional) items she wanted Suzanne to collect from her house. She reminded herself that she needed to mail the list to Suzanne right away. There was little time left to waste.

  The following day, July 2, as Kim Cargill sat in jail (knowing full well that the jail had seized a note from her the previous day), Suzanne Jones-Davis drove from her home in McKinney, Texas, to KC’s residence in Whitehouse, a two-and-a-half-hour drive of about 130 miles. KC could have called Suzanne, warned her that the jail had recovered a note that named her, but she did not. She allowed Suzanne to fall deeper into her chaos.

  Suzanne walked in and grabbed the items KC had requested. These possessions, KC had explained, held nostalgic and sentimental value and she wanted them out of the house. She gave no reason why she wanted Suzanne to grab the items and hold on to them, however. Suzanne figured KC wanted to make sure no one else took them. Yet, in the scope of her friend’s arrest on Injury to a Child charges, why hadn’t Suzanne thought a bit more about her mission? Was KC planning on not going back to her house? Was she under the impression that the state was going to take the house—or that her ex-husband was going to grab the items himself? It really didn’t make sense—except to Kim Cargill, who was working confidently under a carefully constructed plan to lure Suzanne into performing another, more important task.

  When they spoke again, KC asked Suzanne if she collected all of the items she’d asked to have.

  “I think so,” Suzanne said.

  “There were some clothes lying near the foot of my bed. Did you happen to get those?” KC asked. She seemed a bit panicky about this. What significance would these clothes have if the trip had been of a sentimental nature? If KC was sending Suzanne to the house to collect items to cover up those Injury to a Child charges (the reason why she was in jail to begin with), or collect sentimental objects, what would those clothes have to do with any of that?

  “I did not get the clothes,” Suzanne said.

  KC told Suzanne during the call that those clothes were the same clothes she had worn on the night of Friday, June 18, 2010. She gave no further explanation as to why they were so important to her. She was apparently just putting that information out there.

  The next set of calls KC made to Suzanne took place on July 7 and 8. The new demands KC made were a bit more inclusive. Her main request involved a laptop computer at the house. She didn’t have to, but KC added during one of the calls, “The cops seized my desktop computer, but I’m not worried about that.”

  “Okay” was all Suzanne could manage.

  “I need you to go in and change my passwords on my bank accounts and social networks,” KC ordered Suzanne, including all of her Yahoo accounts, e-mail and other personal sites. She mentioned Facebook, Twitter and Google. She asked Suzanne to change her nursing licensing address on her com
puter. Her USAA bank account records portal log in codes/passwords/usernames. All of her passwords and usernames for the Office of the Attorney General CS information records site. She gave Suzanne specific instructions about all of the accounts, what to do, where to go on each site, how to sign in and change all of her e-mail and password/username-protected information.

  “I’ll mail you a list of my passwords,” KC instructed after explaining how to do everything. “You need to do this as soon as you can.”

  The next day, KC had another visit with Michael Darwin. Guards searched her again and found another note. This one said, Call Suzanne ASAP [@] wk. . . . Tell her to change all passwords immediately.... They listen by phone.

  Suzanne couldn’t get to KC’s house again until Saturday; she had a job she needed to attend. This latest call had come on a Wednesday. On that Friday before Suzanne took another drive to KC’s Whitehouse home, KC called with another request.

  “Call my cell phone number.”

  “But I thought you said the police have it.”

  “Yes, they do. But I want you to call it, play the voice mail messages, and then change the password.” KC gave Suzanne step-by-step instructions regarding how to do this. She told her what the existing password was, adding, “Change it to something only you know, Suz. I will get it from you at the appropriate time. You understand?”

  “Yes,” Suzanne said.

  After listening to this set of phone calls, investigators found it interesting that KC would have had, by then, more than three months (since the Injury to a Child charges had been first lodged back in March) to change or delete any information on her phone or Internet accounts or laptop or anywhere else. But now, while in jail, she was frantic and anxious about getting all those Internet passwords/usernames and her cell phone information changed.

  Why?

  Cargill had to believe, Detective James Riggle reasoned in the capital felony murder arrest warrant he was drafting at this time, that something available through her phone was incriminating with regard to the capital murder investigation.

  The same could be said for her laptop and social networking sites.

  Suzanne did what she was told. The following day, Saturday, she drove to Whitehouse and changed all of the passwords on KC’s accounts so nobody—including the police—could gain access to any of them.

  Maybe she did or did not know, but Suzanne Jones-Davis had just committed a felony: tampering with evidence. In her defense Suzanne had no idea KC was being investigated for Cherry Walker’s murder. KC had been booked on Injury to a Child charges at this time—she was not publicly a suspect in the murder of Cherry. As far as Suzanne was concerned, she was helping out a friend who might lose her child and had been jailed on erroneous information that her mother and ex had fabricated about her. Suzanne had no idea she was helping someone cover up a murder.

  27

  “HOW ARE YOU?” KC ASKED.

  Kim knew she had an ally in Suzanne Jones-Davis’s mother. She was playing that card now. On July 11, 2010, KC called Suzanne’s mother and asked about Suzanne and how things were coming along. KC was becoming increasingly worried that the SCSO would open her accounts, look into her social life on the Internet and maybe see all she had been up to during those days leading up to Cherry’s murder.

  “I assure you,” Suzanne’s mother said, “that Suz is working on some things for you as we speak.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Suzanne got your letter.”

  “Great. I need Suz to call [Michael] for me.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell her.”

  “Listen, I need Suz to tell him to get rid of the orange bicycle that is in front of my house—have him take it to his place.”

  “Okay. . . .”

  “I cannot tell you why, but that bike is important to my case.”

  The implication KC made to Suzanne’s mother, once again arranging her puppet strings, was that the bicycle would play a major role in the Injury to a Child charges. The way KC framed it suggested that the child had perhaps fallen off the bike and that’s how he had gotten hurt. This bike, in other words, was going to be evidence that could eventually help her prove that she was being railroaded.

  It was a smoke screen.

  They chatted about menial things, KC plying the woman with her charm and her cover story that “everyone is against me, but I’m going to beat this nonsense.”

  At the end of the conversation KC reminded Suzanne’s mother, “Have him go get that bike, please.”

  As KC worked her “people” on the outside, asking them to take on certain tasks, the SCSO followed along with the narrative. By July 12, Detective Ron Rathbun and a colleague were on their way to an address in Whitehouse where Michael Darwin’s girlfriend, Cara (pseudonym), lived. The theory was that Kim Cargill might have had help in murdering and disposing Cherry Walker’s body. Since Michael was willing to grab bicycles and help out KC in other ways, effectively taking orders from her during visits to the jail and from third parties, maybe he had helped her dispose of Cherry’s body.

  Rathbun and his colleague knocked.

  The girlfriend opened the door and invited them in.

  28

  APRIL PITTS AND HER HALF sister, Kim Cargill, did not get along—not after KC’s arrest, or even as they grew up in the same household as children.

  “We’re very different,” April said later. “She’s very demanding, just very controlling. I was more shy.”

  April explained that for as long as she could remember—even as they attended Berkner High School in Richardson, Texas—she and KC were “estranged.” As they grew into adults and each got married, if April had any interaction with her half sister, it was “for the kids,” she recalled. She adored her nephews, and worried about them. She would stop by when she could to check on them.

  Back in 1992, April needed a place to stay for a few weeks. KC lived close by at the time. She could put up with KC for a few weeks, April decided, and asked her for a favor. After all, what could go wrong in that amount of time? KC lived with her then-husband, Mike West.

  From the moment April walked in, the energy in the house was chilly and uncomfortable, April later explained in court. Mike and KC were constantly on the verge of a major blowup. KC was impossible to get along with; she needed to control and manipulate every aspect of life with those around her. April often found herself arguing with her half sister—KC was always the instigator—and April had no idea why they were even fighting. KC would make some sort of crass comment, belittling gesture or remark, or she would try to get April to do things she was uncomfortable with doing. April also saw behaviors in the house that upset her: conditions, hygiene, the way KC treated her husband and kids. All of it was wrong.

  One argument turned into a heated battle that placed April at the receiving end of KC’s blistering comments.

  It was just a few days into her stay. April knew it had been a mistake, but she sucked it up and did what she could to adapt. Still, enough was enough. KC was out of her mind, yelling, screaming, tearing into everyone for no reason.

  April announced to KC that she was leaving. She couldn’t take it anymore. Sleeping on the street, in a hotel or in her car would be better than another night anywhere near KC. April had no idea how Mike West had put up with his wife for as long as he did. KC and Mike had been married about four years by this time, though the marriage was just about over.

  “I was trying . . . to get out of the situation,” April explained.

  “Trying” was the appropriate word. KC did not want her to leave the house. Not because she loved April and would miss her. No. KC had not decided it was time for her to leave. April could go when KC said she could go.

  April was in her car, preparing to pull out of the driveway.

  “You’re not leaving . . . ,” KC yelled. She was breastfeeding her child and had him in her arms.

  The window was rolled down in April’s car. “Yes, I’m leaving,” April said. She c
ould not take another moment of KC’s volatility and violent tendencies. How does anyone sleep in a house not knowing what a person in the next room will do next, when she will again explode into a vulgar, profanity-laced rant or when she will become violent? It was no way to live.

  KC put the child down. (April could not recall where, but she remembered that KC did not have the child in her arms when she approached her.) KC reached in through the car’s open window and, thinking she was going to put April’s car into the PARK position on the steering column shifter, instead snapped off the directional blinker arm. She didn’t realize the gear shifter was on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” April said.

  April drove away as KC screamed at her.

  Later that night April wound up returning. All she needed was some air. Some time alone. Maybe KC was under a lot of pressure? Perhaps her problems with Mike were causing her to act unpredictably? People, in April’s view, deserved a second chance.

  But things got worse. April came home one night from work, walked in and could not believe what KC had done to April’s dog, which she had brought with her for the stay.

  “What did you do?” April said as she stared at the dog.

  KC smiled.

  “She had my dog shaved, literally, to the bone,” April said later.

  Another incident, even more devastating to this concerned aunt, happened between Travis (pseudonym), who was nearly three years old at the time, and KC. KC was yelling at the child for a reason that had been so inconsequential April could not recall what KC was so riled up about. As April looked on, KC angrily began to kick holes in the wall next to where the boy stood. It was as if she was showing the child: See what I could do to you!

  That was enough. It was time for April to leave and never return.

  * * *

  KC had once spent some time at April’s house in Garland, Texas. One moment that April recalled with clarity involved her coming home from work one evening to find KC rifling through her mail—her bills in particular.