by BobA. Troutt
A heavy rain fell over Savannah as the city was blanketed with darkness. The sirens in the background haunted the city as another body was found. We had already found two other bodies along the banks of the White River, and it was beginning to look like we had a madman terrorizing the city. From the depths of the darkness of hell, a new serial killer had penetrated the city, driving fear and terror deep in the heart of Georgia.
A few years ago Holt County experienced the horror of another killer who left the town paralyzed with bodies and unsolved mysteries. Now it looks like he, or possibly a copycat, may have returned.
My name is Daniel Hines. I am a detective for the Holt County Police Department. Kelvin Todd and I had worked together on the first strand of Savannah murders in 1986. Then Kelvin took a job with the FBI in Atlanta. I have called in a request for him to help on these murders, thinking they may be connected to the murders in 1986. I don’t know if they will deny my request or not. It would make my job a lot easier to have an old friend with his experience beside me once again.
Finally arriving on the crime scene, I made my way down the banks of the river until I reached the body. It appeared to have the same M.O. There was a small handmade wooden cross around the victim’s neck with a Bible scripture attached. It read “Romans 6:23—the wages of sin is death.” Carefully, I examined the body, not wanting to disturb any evidence that may be there. And then I saw it. The killer’s signature was coming together. I compared it to the other two bodies that had been found in shallow graves in the last two months. The victim had been castrated while he was still alive. The cause of death I’m sure was that he bled to death. It was the same M.O. as the two earlier bodies. The first two men were gay, and I’d bet this one is gay, too.
In the 1986 murders, there were four gay men found dead along the banks of the same river. They were found bound, partially nude, and raped. But there was no cross, no Bible verse, and no castration. Is it the same killer, a copycat, or a new killer? Maybe the earlier killer is trying to confuse us to keep from getting caught. After the four murders in 1986 the killing stopped. The killer disappeared. To the best of our knowledge, he never surfaced again, anywhere.
I moved out of the way of the body as the crime tech team moved in. Then I talked to the ones who had found the body. But they hadn’t seen anything. The killer was long gone by the time they got there. My only hope was comparing the new evidence gathered by the tech team to the evidence they already had. Maybe they could find something. As I looked across the river, I thought of the vast area it covered. The river ran between Savannah and the neighboring town of Wilburn. I’ll take a team of men and comb both banks of the river and see what we find.
For the past three months Savannah’s gay community had been terrorized. The White River is a gay hangout on the north side. A lot of activity goes on there such as parties, parking, and get-togethers. The people have named the killings the White River murders, and they call the killer the White River monster.
When I arrived back at the station I had a call from Atlanta. It was Kelvin informing me that they were sending him down tomorrow to help out on the case since he had worked on the earlier case. I was glad to hear the good news.
Meanwhile, downtown, Judge Katherine Defiore was just leaving the courthouse on her way home. She had been working late on court cases for the last three months. Her husband had died of a heart attack about six years ago. Katherine had been wanting to move on with her life, sort of get back in the groove of things. For the last six years she had been alone. As she was getting into her car and headed for home, she started thinking about her husband and began to cry.
“Why, Robert,” she cried. “Why did you have to leave me?”
All that I have now is my work, she thought.
Then she sighed, saying, “He would want me to go on.”
Pulling into traffic she heads for home. While driving across town in the rain she crossed over White River to her home in Wilburn. The phone began to ring as she was coming through the door. It was her best friend Brenda.
“Hey, girl,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing,” replied Katherine, “I just got off work. The old workaholic, that’s me.”
“I know,” said Brenda. “I’ve being trying to get you out of the house for the longest time now.”
“I know you mean well,” she replied. “But how do you know when you’re really ready?”
“You don’t!” cried Brenda. “Katherine, you just do it. I want you to get ready, and I’ll be by in a couple hours to pick you up. We are going clubbing.”
“But where are you going?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter! It’s time to get out of your shell” cried Brenda. “The night is still young, and it’s party time for a fifty-four year old girl in Savannah.”
“I don’t know,” hesitated Katherine.
“I’ll be by shortly,” warned Brenda and hung up.
I guess I didn’t have time to say no, thought Katherine. Why not?
Not long after that, Brenda stood at her door. Katherine was just finishing up. She was nervous and afraid, not knowing what to expect.
“Are you ready?” asked Brenda.
“I guess,” replied Katherine. “How do I look?”
“You’re a knockout, girl. Don’t you think any different?”
As the two hurried to the car, they drove off.
“Where are we going anyway?” Katherine asked.
“Are you a little hungry?” replied Brenda.
“Kinda,” she said.
“Me too,” Brenda replied. “For tonight we will start at Jalan’s Place. He’s got the best baby back ribs in all of Georgia.”
“I’ve never heard of that place,” said Katherine.
“It’s a club, mainly singles go there. It’s the best rib crib in town for dining, dancing, and a bar. It will be a good place for your debut.”
“I don’t know,” doubted Katherine.
“Trust me, girl,” replied Brenda. “Every man’s eye will be on you, but of course, after they check me out first.”
As the two party girls laughed and talked, they crossed town quickly to the south side. There they saw club after club, party animals, and dancing in the street. When they got to Jalan’s, they went in, ordered some ribs, hot wings, salad with potatoes, and beer.
“Brenda, you were right about these ribs,” said Katherine. They are delicious.”
“What did I tell you, sister?” she cried. “Didn’t I tell you? You got a little barbecue sauce on your cheek.”
Katherine quickly wiped. “Did I…,” she asked.
“Yeah, you got it,” replied Brenda.
Then suddenly Katherine looked up and there was a nice looking man staring at her.
“What have I been telling you, girl?” whispered Brenda. “Now do you believe me? Uh-oh, he’s getting up and coming this way … he’s handsome, too.”
As he approached their table, he cleared his voice and then introduced himself.
“Hi, my name is Alex.”
Katherine just looked at him when suddenly Brenda kicked her on the leg.
“Oh-uh, I’m Katherine and this is Brenda.”
“Can I sit down?” he asked.
“Sure, sure,” responded Katherine with dreamy eyes.
As the two started talking, in came one of Brenda’s friends.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
The small talk was definitely there, and also the chemistry. But, will they light the fuse, thought Brenda.
“Do you want another beer or to dance?” he asked.
“No, that’s alright, I’m fine,” she replied.
Then up walked Brenda and her friend, interrupting, “Katherine, Alex, this is Bone,” she said. “Bone, this is Alex and Katherine.”
“Katherine, I’m going to leave with Bone for a while,” she said. “You can take my car to
your house and I’ll pick it up later.”
“Brenda!” cried Katherine. “You promised…”
“Oh, come on, girl,” replied Brenda. “I’m sure Alex can follow you home.”
“Brenda, don’t do this to me,” replied Katherine.
“Sure,” replied Alex. “I can follow you home.”
“There’s no need,” replied Katherine.
“I don’t mind, I’ll follow you home and leave. I won’t even get out of the car and walk you to the door.”
“Hey, what about it?” said Brenda as she snuggled up to Bone.
“I guess,” replied Katherine.
“See you two later,” said Brenda as she kissed Bone on the cheek and escorted him away.
“I guess I’m ready to go, too,” said Katherine. “It’s been a long day.”
“Sure,” he replied. “I understand.”
“There’s no need for you to follow me,” she said.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m not doing anything else.”
“You have to ignore Brenda,” she said. “She gets a little crazy at times.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to follow you?” he asked again.
“I’m sure,” she replied. “It was good to meet you.”
“You too,” he answered.
On the way home she thought about Alex. She looked in her rearview mirror to see if she could see him following her. She kept thinking over and over that she had not been with a man since her husband had died.
How would I act? What would I do? she thought.
She tried to fight it off. She tried to surrender her desires, but she couldn’t let go. Deep down inside she longed to be held and caressed in a man’s arms. Hurriedly, she raced across town, across White River Ridge, back to Wilburn. As she pulled in to the drive, she noticed another car pulled in next to the road. It was Alex. She never said a word but took a deep breath and walked toward the door. They both arrived at the same time. Alex pressed her back against the locked door. He caressed her hair and stared into her eyes; the fuse had been lit. She filled his arms with her body. Neither said a word. Then Katherine turned to unlock the door. He ran his hands about her waistline as he gently kissed the back of her neck. The door opened; as they stepped in, the door closed behind them.
The next morning, she fixed him her favorite southern breakfast of fried chicken, white sawmill gravy, homemade biscuits, and grits. He noticed that she placed a cloth in a bowl and then put in the biscuits and covered them with the cloth.
“My mama back in West Virginia used to do her biscuits like that. It keeps them warm longer,” she said.
“It’s funny the things people do,” he said. “Like I bet you don’t do this in Georgia. But in West Virginia we gather pokeberries in the fall from poke salad. We wash the berries and put them in plastic bags, and put them in the freezer. When your legs ache you take out a few, put them in your mouth, eat the berries and spit out the seed. But you don’t bite it, just eat the berry and it is good for a leg ache.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” said Katherine.
“See what I mean?” he replied.
“Do you have any family?” she asked.
“No,” he replied. “Both of my parents are dead and my brother was killed in a car wreck a few years ago. They are all gone except me.”
“Oh, my gosh!” she cried. “I’m late for a meeting!”
“Hey, I’ll talk to you later,” he said. “I’ve got to go, too.”
“Are you sure that’s alright?”
“Sure,” he replied. “See you.”
“Bye,” she said.
Time passed and Alex called her on the phone. They went out partying, and he sent her roses at work.
It was still a little early at the station when Kelvin arrived.
“Hey man, I’m so glad to see you,” I said, “and how’s the family?”
“Good,” he replied. “Martha said hi.”
“And the children?” I asked.
“Good,” he said. “You know how kids are.”
“Well, you’re right on time,” I said, “to help us comb the riverbanks. The river is a branch off the main channel. It snakes its way in and out of Savannah,” I said. “We got about seventy-five men and women at the river right now.”
“Great!” cried Kelvin. “I’m ready to go.”
As the two left the station and headed for the river, they talked about old times and some of the cases they had worked on.
“Maybe we will find something,” said Kelvin.
“I hope so,” replied Daniel, “City Hall is on pins and needles now.”
When they got there they divided everyone up into two teams, one on the right bank and one on the left. Daniel and Kelvin got into a small boat and combed the water’s edge while the others combed the shores. About two miles down the river the sky suddenly began getting dark. As they reached an old swimming hole everything was quiet. They went a little farther and when they looked up and saw a canopy of tree limbs hanging over the narrow of the river. Suddenly they heard something fall into the water. Quickly, they looked around. There were hundreds of snakes hanging in the tree limbs, and crawling on the riverbank, hundreds of them. It was a nest of snakes.
“Look at that!” yelled Daniel. “Can you believe it?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” cried Kelvin.
Then they looked down. The snakes were swimming toward them. One fell in the boat. Luckily, they got it out.
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” I shouted.
Quickly they turned the boat around and headed back.
“Have you ever seen anything like that?” said Kelvin.
“Not in my lifetime,” I replied. “Not until now. It’s time to get back.”
By the time they got back to the bridge, the others had arrived also. The search had turned up nothing, and the search party was dismissed. Back at the station, Daniel reviewed the evidence of the case.
“This killer is awfully smart to get away with the crime and leave no evidence,” said Kelvin. “He’s not your average serial killer.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Notice the victim’s bodies were clean. No hair particles, nothing under the nails, and no prints. This guy knows what he’s doing. I don’t think it’s a hate crime, but more like the killer is trying to say something. A hurt and battered killer is reaching out for help through the gay community. The bodies were found in shallow graves with duct tape over their mouths, and their hands bound behind. The victims were found along the banks of the White River,” said Kelvin.
“Do you think he’s gay?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Kelvin. “He may be out for revenge for some reason or other.”
“Someone has done him wrong. Revenge, yes, but, no, I don’t think he’s gay. All the murders so far have the same signs. They are young, white gay males, 20-39 years of age, beaten, castrated, and left to bleed to death while still alive. Their testicles have been butcherly removed and pitched to the side, Kelvin. But what do you think about this?” I said. “You go to all that trouble to kill someone and then place a wooden cross necklace around their neck with a Bible verse.”
“Let’s look at the verses,” said Kelvin, “and see what we come up with. First verse, first victim, ‘Romans 3:23—For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’ Second verse, ‘Romans 3:10—As it is written, there is none righteous, no, not one.’ ‘Romans 6:23—For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord’.”
“I don’t really know,” replied Daniel, “but we have got one crazed sick-o out there.”
“What about the chain and cross?” asked Kelvin.
“The chains are very common. You can get them anywhere,” I replied. “But the cross is whittled out of red walnut. It’s not native around here
but is grown in East Tennessee, Virginia, and West Virginia. The red walnut was brought over here from Europe by the settlers. In the late 1600’s a blight hit the trees and all were killed except for a few states. The red walnut has a smaller nut than the black walnut. It has a softer shell. The reddish, yellowish bark was made into tea by the Indians for sickness. Mixed with May apple root and wild trillium leaves it was used together to bring down fever.
“Daniel, check around and see if you can buy any of the wood locally,” suggested Kelvin.
About that time an officer entered the room.
“We’ve got another body,” he said.
Hurriedly they reached for their coats and put them on as they went through the door. On the way there they sat quietly. Both of them hoped for a break in the killings, anything that could give them a lead. Soon they were at the scene of the crime. It was on the north side of the White River. Making their way to the body, they found the same M.O.
“He mutilates the body, but he doesn’t take any souvenirs from his victim. Do you think he knows his victim?” I asked.
“Maybe he picks them up at the bars,” replied Kelvin. “I think it is a random killing. This victim’s Bible verse was ‘Romans 1:26-28—For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet. And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient’.”
Daniel shook his head as the two detectives headed back to the car.
“Let’s go by my church,” said Daniel, “and see what Brother Mills says about the scripture.”
“Sounds good,” replied Kelvin.
Later on that day Katherine ran into Alex coming out of a restaurant on 5th Street. They stopped and talked for a minute. She told him she saw him on the 3rd Street Market and waved at him, but he didn’t wave back.
“By the time I got across the street,” she replied. “You were already gone.”
“I haven’t been on 3rd Street today,” he said.
“But,” she replied. “It looked like you.”
“You must have thought it was me,” he said. “I haven’t been on 3rd Street in two or three weeks.”
“I guess it could have been someone else,” she replied. “But it looked like you.”
“Well I have to go,” he said. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay,” she replied. “Call when you can.”
As Kelvin and I pulled up to a small Baptist church, we went in to talk to Daniel’s pastor. We gave him a list of the scriptures and asked him what he could make of it. He carefully looked each one up before speaking.
“Most of the scripture,” he said, “is used in the Roman road to salvation. Most of the scriptures are found in the book of Romans.”
“What do you think, Brother Mills?” asked Kelvin.
As Brother Mills sat back in his chair and thought a minute, he came up with this conclusion. “The killer may be a crusader, thinking he’s Jesus, and he’s judging the world of sin as he sees it.”
“By taking matters in his own hands,” I interrupted.
“Right,” replied Brother Mills. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing but fails to see the truth because he is so much in the dark.”
“How do you think he chooses his victims?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “He could pick them up to talk to them about their lives, like a minister, and then they follow him out to a remote place where he passes judgment on them.”
“How can we catch him?” asked Kelvin. “Is there a sign or something we can go by in the scripture?”
“There’s no way of catching him,” said Brother Mills, “until he wants you to. He’s not dumb, he’s real intelligent. But he’ll outsmart himself, if you give him time.”
Thanking him, they got up to leave. At the car, I looked over to Kelvin, “Are you hungry?”
“Sure,” replied Kelvin.
“I know an excellent country restaurant that specializes in white beans, hot water cornbread, greens and meatloaf.”
“Sounds great,” said Kelvin. “Let’s go for it.”
Things were pretty hectic for the next few weeks. Katherine didn’t get to see Alex much. She was piled up at the courthouse with backlogged cases. They would grab a bite to eat when they could. Alex would drop by her house every once and awhile. He still sent her flowers and cards. They would catch a movie when she got off a little early, but the clubbing and partying slowed down.
Then late one evening it was pouring down rain when she was getting off from work. She saw him downtown. She followed him from a distance, but lost him in the rain. While on her way home, she had a flat tire on the other side of the bridge. When she stopped and got out to check her flat, a car pulled up. It was Alex.
“I am so thankful to see you,” she said.
“Having a little trouble I see,” he replied.
In a few minutes he had it changed. They were both soaked.
“Are you coming up to the house?” she asked.
“Sure,” he replied. “I can for a few minutes.
She noticed he acted a little strange, sort of quiet and withdrawn. But she brushed it off as probably a bad mood. Shortly, they arrived at her house, and he followed her in.
“Thanks for helping me out,” she said.
“Oh, that’s alright,” he replied.
She changed out of her wet clothes and slipped on her bathrobe. She suggested he get out of his wet clothes, but all she had was a big towel he could wear until they dried. Then she made a cup of coffee to warm them up from the cool rain.
“It hadn’t rained that hard in a long time,” she said.
Then he slid over to her and placed his fingers over her lips.
“Shhh,” he hushed.
Then he started to kiss her as she lay back on the couch. Slowly her bathrobe fell open, revealing her as she removed the towel from between them. Afterwards they lay snuggled up together on the couch. As the time passed she noticed something.
“Didn’t you have a scar on your shoulder?” she asked.
“A scar,” he replied. “Whatever gave you that idea? I have never had a scar.”
“But I could have sworn you did,” she replied.
“No, not me,” he said as he hurried to get dressed and leave. “Hey, babe, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Where are you going?” she asked. “It’s still pouring down rain!”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later. I’ll call you,” he said.
“Bye,” she replied as he disappeared out the door.
Later on that evening there was a knock at the door. It was Alex.
“Hey, I’m going up to Charleston, South Carolina, for some business. Would you like to go?” he asked.
“Sure, she said. “I’ve got the whole weekend off, why not!”
As they were leaving she asked him about his car. He told her it was in the shop so he rented one for the weekend.
“You ready?” he said.
“Sure,” she replied. “Let’s go.”
The next day another body was found. But this time there came our first big break. Two gay men, Sandy Davis and Eugene Lewis, happened to be walking along the riverbank when they came upon a man burying a body in a shallow grave. By the time they got up to him he took off. But the two men were able to get a description. They called the police and in no time the river was surrounded.
“Daniel, it appears our man is at it again,” said Kelvin.
“It looks that way,” I replied.
Then one of the crime tech men found a partial print on the cross.
“That’s what we have been waiting for!” I cried. “Thank you, Lord.”
“Get that print down to the lab as soon as possible,” ordered Kelvin, “and don’t let it out of your sight.”
“Maybe they’ll find a match,” I replied.
Then we turned to the two eyewitnesses. We began to get their story.
“We need you to come down to the station and look at some photos.”
“Sure,” they replied. “We will be glad to.”
Then the other tech brought the Bible verse to Kelvin and me.
“Look at this,” I said. “Isaiah 64:6-7—But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. And there is none that calleth upon thy name, that stirreth up himself to take hold of thee: for thou hast hid thy face from us, and hast consumed us, because of our iniquities.”
Kelvin shook his head and walked off.
“Another victim, same M.O. but a partial print and two eyewitnesses,” I said. “Things are beginning to look up.”
“It’s about time,” replied Kelvin. “Let’s get to the lab.”
About an hour later they had found a match. It belonged to an Owen Tillman of West Virginia. The lab was able to compare the partial print with the state of Georgia Fingerprint Bank but came up blank. But when they searched through the US fingerprint data they found it on his West Virginia license, which was expired.
Quickly Kelvin and I took a plane to Charleston, West Virginia. One of the officers from the local station picked us up and took us to get a car. In a matter of hours we were there and driving to the address on the license, 25-30 miles northwest of Charleston, West Virginia in the Appalachian Mountains.
It wasn’t long until we entered Snook County. On up the road they pulled over at Ethal’s Store at Highway Junction 100 and 443. There we got a drink and directions to Hog Back Ridge. Luckily, we were closer than they thought.
Hog Back Ridge was a turn off from Highway 100. We traveled on old wagon trails back through the hills and hollows. The road was narrow, but luckily, there were a few houses on it. We finally reached the house number on the license. It was empty and nearly collapsed.
“It looks like nobody has lived here in a long time,” I said.
“Let’s talk to some of the neighbors,” suggested Kelvin.
As they walked down the road, they saw a man sitting on his porch.
“What do you say?” I said.
“You didn’t hear me say anything,” the old man replied.
“I’m Kelvin Todd of the FBI, and this is Daniel Hines, detective from Savannah, Georgia.”
“What can I do for you?” he replied.
“We’re looking for information of an Owen Tillman who used to live around here,” we said.
“I’m Ray Dean Reed, his uncle. Salmer get out here. We have some men asking questions about Owen,” he yelled.
A woman came out onto the porch.
“Do you want some souse meat with hot sauce?” asked Ray Dean.
“No, thank you,” they said, “we’re fine. We’re looking for information about Owen Tillman,” prompted Kelvin.
“What kind of information?” she asked. “Owen is dead, been dead now for years.”
Quickly, Daniel and Kelvin looked at one another.
“What happened?” questioned Kelvin.
“He had a car wreck,” she replied. “He’s buried right over yonder.”
“Can you tell us a little bit about him?” I asked.
Then without a warning Ray Dean broke wind and the old blue tick hound that lay on the porch got up and left.
Ray Dean cried, “Aunt Salmer, I’m sorry, but that souse meat works on me.”
“Where did you get that necklace?” asked Kelvin.
“This old cross?” she said. “Why, Alex made it for me when he was young.”
“Who is Alex?” I questioned.
“He’s Owen’s brother,” she said.
“Do you know where he’s at?” I replied.
“No, I don’t,” she said. “I haven’t heard from him in years.”
“Did Owen ever make them?” he replied.
“No, not that I can remember,” she said. “Why?”
“I was wondering,” he replied.
“Owen’s mother was my sister. They had two sons, Alex and Owen. They were identical twins,” she said. “Alex was an evil child. Owen was born with a slight mental problem which held him back. Alex and his friends molested Owen growing up. When Alex got older, he joined the army and moved away from home. My sister was so ashamed of what he did to Owen that they tried to keep it hid.
“Owen was a preacher too. He knew the word. Owen wasn’t a God called preacher but a self-claimed one, a jackleg preacher, preaching a little here and there. But his lifestyle didn’t prove out to be that of a godly man. When Owen was killed in a car wreck, they sent word to Alex. By the time Alex got home they had already buried Owen. It was in 1982 when he died. Owen would have been the least likely of the two,” said Ray Dean. “Alex is the one I would be looking for. He’s meaner than a snake.”
“We would like permission to exhume the grave,” said Kelvin. “We think Owen is still alive.”
“What!” cried Aunt Salmer. “Why do you believe that?”
“We found one of his fingerprints at a crime scene. We can get a court order if you wish.”
“No, that’s alright,” she said. “We are the only family left. It will be okay.”
“Can I use your phone?” I asked. “I’ll call the sheriff’s department to come up and help.”
“Good deal,” replied Kelvin.
“Would you be interested in some crackling cornbread and pig’s feet for dinner?”
“No, thanks,” they replied.
Then Ray Dean broke wind again as he got up to go into the house to eat dinner. “Excuse me,” he said.
“I wish you wouldn’t eat any more souse meat and hot sauce, Ray Dean,” fussed Salmer. “They’re going to dig up Owen’s remains. That poor child had already been through enough. Lord, help us.”
“The wages of sin,” said Kelvin. “The pieces are finally coming together. I bet you another country dinner that Owen’s body is not in that grave.”
“I agree,” I said.
“Owen’s abuse has driven him into a madman,” replied Kelvin. “He was killing homosexuals for the sexual acts they did. His brother and friend put him through it. He was using them to make a statement and help bear his pain.”
In a few hours, the sheriff and some of his deputies arrived, and they started to work on exhuming the grave.
“There may be two killers instead of one,” I noted.
“I have thought the same thing,” replied Kelvin.
“Sheriff, did you know Alex or Owen Tillman?” I asked.
“No, sir,” he replied. “I’ve only been in office for eight years now. I’m sort of new in town. You may want to go over to the West Virginia Mental Hospital in Charleston and see if they were ever patients there. From what you have found out, they might have been.”
“Thank you, sheriff,” replied Kelvin. “We’ll stop on our way back to the airport.”
“These mountain people are funny people,” I said, “funny ways.”
“Yep,” replied the sheriff. “The Appalachian people have their own beliefs and their own way of doing things. I’m really surprised you didn’t have to get a court order.”
Then suddenly the shovel of the digger hit something.
“We’ve about got it,” yelled one of the deputies.
It wasn’t long until they raised the coffin from the grave. As they slowly opened the casket, everyone stood in a state of shock. They didn’t know what to expect. Suddenly the lid fell open, and everyone looked into an empty casket. Aunt Salmer passed out, buckling at the knees.
; “That will do it,” said Kelvin. “I think we have found our answer.”
Slowly, Kelvin and I, and the sheriff walked back toward the car as the deputies filled the hole.
“Thank you, sheriff,” I said. “We need to be going.”
“I want to stop off at the hospital before they close,” replied Kelvin.
As we headed back to Charleston, we were debating whether it was Alex or Owen or both. Shortly, we reached the hospital. I explained who we were and that we would like to see Alex and Owen Tillman’s medical files. Luckily one of the doctors still worked there. She was reluctant to tell us anything, but when Kelvin told her he was thought to be a serial murderer in Savannah, she backed down.
“Alex,” she said, “was a normal child, except for the mean streak in him. Owen was born with a slight mental disorder, which later seriously affected him. His paranoid schizophrenia and his later development of a split personality developed from the things Alex put him through growing up. It was evident that that turn of events would eventually drive him insane.
“He loved Alex and looked up to him, but he could never understand why he did the things he did to him. It appeared that Alex was jealous of Owen because their mother was fonder of Owen than him. Alex was mean with a black heart but as he grew older his anger and meanness tapered off.”
“I think that will do,” said Kelvin. “I think we have found our killer. Thank you, doctor, for all your help.”
“You’re quite welcome,” she replied.
“Well, Daniel, we have a plane to catch,” said Kelvin.
Back in Charleston, South Carolina, as they were getting ready to come home, Katherine couldn’t help but notice the scar on Alex’s shoulder. She started to say something, but she thought she would wait. Running late already, they hurriedly drove off. It had been a fun trip, and she dressed to go back to work. On the way home, she became more bothered about the scar.
“Alex, how did you get that scar on you shoulder?” she asked.
“Oh, that. I’ve had it ever since I can remember,” he replied. “My brother and I were playing around. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was just curious,” she said.
“You have to know my brother,” he replied. “He was a real mental case.”
As the day ended, Katherine and Alex and Kelvin and I arrived back in Savannah. As soon as I was off the plane, I had an APB put out on both Alex Tillman and Owen Tillman. It was probably the biggest manhunt in Savannah history. Katherine dropped off Alex downtown and headed home.
That night, sirens cried into the night as its victims cried from their graves for justice. It took the Savannah Police Department three hours of combing the city for the two suspects. As Alex was leaving a bar downtown the police picked him up.
“What’s going on?” he cried. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the station,” said one of the arresting policemen.
“What are you charging me with?” he cried.
The other policeman replied, “Nothing right now. We are taking you in for questioning. Let’s go,” he demanded.
Immediately, Kelvin and I were notified. As we made our way down to the station, we met him face to face in the interrogation room.
“Okay, Alex,” said Kelvin, “we are going to let you know what we know, and we want you to fill in the blanks. We just got back from West Virginia, and we talked to your Aunt Salmer and Uncle Ray Dean.”
“Is Ray Dean still eating souse meat?” he jokingly asked.
“Look, Alex you don’t realize how much trouble you may be in,” I warned him. “We also know your brother Owen is alive.”
“Alive!” he yelled out, “He can’t be!”
“I’m afraid so,” said Kelvin, “and we think one of you is behind these murders.”
Then I spoke up, “We know what you and your friend did to your brother for all those years. I have also talked to his doctor at the hospital.”
“Before you say anything else,” Kelvin stated, “get a lawyer.”
“Let him make his call,” I said.
As we were bringing Alex out of the interrogation room, he saw Katherine, who had stopped off at the station for some files. Quickly, she ran up to him.
“Alex, what’s going on?” she asked.
Then she turned to the detective.
“We’re holding him for questioning,” replied Kelvin.
“Questioning for what?” she asked.
“I’ll explain it to you later,” Alex interrupted. “This is not the time.”
“Did you tell them you’ve been with me in Charleston, South Carolina the last few days?”
“No,” he replied. “They haven’t gotten quite that far.”
“When can he be released?” she asked me.
“Later on this evening,” I replied. “Okay, we have to go.”
Then Kelvin turned to her, “You need to be careful,” he said.
Then she quickly turned and left.
Later on that day, the two eyewitnesses picked Alex out of the lineup as the man they saw.
“Yeah, but was it Owen they saw or Alex?” replied Kelvin. “They’re identical twins.”
Quietly, Alex sat in his cell waiting for his release. As he sat there he started putting the pieces of the puzzle together. He thought and thought, trying to understand. There was something there, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then suddenly it came to him. Katherine had asked him about the scar. Owen didn’t have a scar on his shoulder, but he did. Owen must have slept with her for her to be able to know the difference. His heart began to race as the clock ticked on. His hands were sweaty and he was restless to get out. He feared for Katherine’s life. If there was one place he would be tonight it would be her house. He had to stop him. Suddenly, the cell door opened.
“You’re free to go,” said the jailer.
“Your alibi with the judge saved you for now,” I warned him.
Hurriedly, he raced out the door. Reaching the street, he caught a cab.
Kelvin told me to have a tail put on him. Quickly the cab raced across town to the courthouse, and Alex told the cabdriver to wait as he dashed inside. By the time he reached Katherine’s office, she was already gone. Back in the cab again he rushed up town, headed for White River toward Wilburn. Meanwhile, the tail had lost Alex lost in the traffic, and Alex and the cab were nowhere to be seen.
“He’s headed for Judge Defiore’s house. Come on, Daniel, let’s go,” said Kelvin as we quickly headed out the door.
Shortly, Katherine arrived home. As she unlocked the door, Owen grabbed her from behind and forced her inside.
“Alex!” she cried, “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? You’re not supposed to be out until this evening!”
“I’m not Alex,” he said. “I’m his brother Owen.”
Then he ripped his shirt off at the shoulder. Franticly she tried to get away. But he was all over her.
“What do you want?” she cried.
“I want you to know I’ve got a secret,” he said, “about what your precious Alex did to me.”
As he explained, she began to cry and cover her ears as she fought to get away. Then he suddenly grabbed her, throwing her up against the wall, slapping her about, and calling Alex’s name over and over. Then, without warning, Katherine grabbed a knife that lay on the bar and stabbed him in the stomach.
About then Alex bust through the door. Owen stood bent over with blood coming from his side. Quickly Alex leaped across the room toward him. As they fought, Owen pulled a gun out of his pocket and shot Alex, killing him. At the same time, Owen passed out and died. About then we pulled up and ran into the house. It was all over. Both brothers were dead and a battered woman stood over them.
After that night everything was much quieter in Savannah. I went on with my work, Kelvin went back to Atlanta, and Judge Katherine Defiore is still passing judgment.
/> Proverbs 14:12—There is a way which seemeth right, unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.
The Caw of the Crow
