Category: The Boaz Scorekeeper

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

After Sara Adams’ deathbed confession I filed notice of my intent to take the deposition of David Carl Adams.  The next day his attorney, Tommy Brunner from Gadsden, called me.  He said, as a courtesy he was letting me know that he was filing a Motion to Strike since I had no reasonable expectation of discovering any relevant evidence and that I should know that the Alabama Rules of Civil Procedure did not allow mere fishing expeditions.  I thanked him for his call and asked whether he knew a good criminal defense attorney, that his client was going to need one.  He acted shocked.  I gave him the short version.  He argued that since Mrs. Adams was now dead that the Prosecutor could not use her testimony.  It would be hearsay.  I agreed with him but let him know that Drake vs. Allbright would allow my affidavit to serve as the needed stepping stone to David’s deposition in a civil case.  He said that I was correct if I had a corroborating witness that placed me and Mrs. Adams together at the time of the conversation.  I assured Tommy that Loree Neilson was that witness.

The day before David’s deposition I felt like fishing.  The kind Tommy Brunner spoke about.  For years I had wondered who owned Club Eden.  I felt David’s deposition might be a good opportunity to learn.  Even though the Club was relevant as to where the graduation party took place I had mixed feelings whether a question about its ownership could slip by and generate a response.  I thought it was worth a shot so I drove to the Etowah County Courthouse, Land Records Division, to see if I could develop a chain of title for Club Eden’s property at Aurora Lake.

I succeeded after two hours of reviewing plat maps, and with the help of Francis Frasier, an older heavy-set woman with silky red hair, who claimed to have worked in “these dusty dungeons” for over sixty years.  We found a March 1892 deed from Larson Kittle to a company named The Garden, Ltd.  The transfer included 288 acres along the south side of what became the Aurora Lake reservoir.  There was no way to tell who owned The Garden company.  Francis suggested I call the Secretary of State in Montgomery.  She let me borrow her phone and the nice lady who answered had me an answer in less than five minutes. 

The Garden, Ltd. was formed in 1890.  There were five shareholders: Earnest Adams, Morton Tillman, Samuel Radford, Franklin Billingsley, and Joseph Ericson.  I had no doubt these were the grandfathers, no, great grandfathers of the Flaming Five.

During David’s deposition, I had just explored Sara’s statements including the direct question whether he had killed Wendi Murray.  Of course, he denied any such thing. I asked him if Walter Tillman was with him when he killed her.  Again, he denied all involvement.  Out of the blue I asked David if he was a shareholder in The Garden, Ltd.  To my surprise he said yes.  Again, to my astonishment he answered every question I could pose related to the Aurora Lake real estate.  He said that he had inherited his shares from his father, Eugene, when he died in 1965. He also confirmed that the other shares were owned by Walter Tillman, Raymond Radford, Fitz Billingsley, and Franklin Ericson. When I asked about the name, The Garden, Ltd., and the purpose of this organization, David said he didn’t know.  He also denied any knowledge about Club Eden.

A short while later I ended the deposition feeling I had wasted my time. David had been well coached, maybe a little too well coached.  I couldn’t help but believe that he was lying.

I had dropped by the restroom on my way out of Tommy’s law office not wanting to engage in small talk as everyone was leaving.  When I came out, Ralph Summerford, Wade Tillman’s lawyer, asked if he could buy me a cup of coffee saying that he had something I would want to hear.

We walked around the corner to a little diner on Chestnut Avenue.  Ralph said that he was now representing Wade’s father, Walter, and wanted to make a deal.  I asked him what he had in mind.  Ralph said Walter would cooperate with me and Matt and pay $50,000 in exchange for confidentiality and an immunity agreement from the Prosecutor.  Ralph asked if we could talk off the record.  I agreed.  Walter had admitted that he was present when David ended Wendi’s life.  Ralph said that Walter had tried to stop David and encouraged him to go to the authorities before doing anything stupid. 

I told Ralph that he knew my clients could not grant Walter any type of immunity, that would have to come from the District Attorney.  Ralph said that he knew that but my encouragement might be enough to convince the DA, especially if Walter would agree to testify against David.  I asked Ralph what Walter could offer concerning my client’s wrongful death case.  If I took the deal, there would be no testimony from Walter Tillman but he would provide us with names and documents that would lead us to Club Eden and enough evidence that Matt and I should be able to tie David and the other three, Raymond Radford, Fitz Billingsley, and Franklin Ericson, and all members of the Flaming Five, to the deaths of Wendi and Cindi Murray. 

I told Ralph that if he would draft the agreement, including the exact evidence that Walter had, that Matt and I would discuss it.  I agreed with Ralph that if we failed to reach an agreement, Matt and I would treat these negotiations with strict confidence.

Two days later and right before 8:00 a.m., Ralph hand-delivered a packet to my office asking me to review the agreement draft and for an opportunity to meet before he drove back to Birmingham.  I told him I had a motion docket in Albertville at 9:00 and could meet with him after lunch.

When Ralph arrived at 1:30, Matt and I had spent nearly two hours reviewing the agreement along with several exhibits.  The first exhibit was a copy of the organizing document for Club Eden.  It was dated June 23, 1899.  The initial club members were Earnest Adams, Morton Tillman, Samuel Radford, Franklin Billingsley, and Joseph Ericson.  The Club was formed for promoting and directing business operations and community life in Boaz, Alabama, and to enhance fellowship and progress among members.  The second exhibit was a copy of Club Eden’s bylaws.  All members were required to take an oath swearing to never disclose Club “business or non-business, or anything even remotely related to the Club.”   Punishment included the branding of a cross on the forehead, and the option of death by hanging but only by unanimous decision. 

Another exhibit stated that The Garden, Ltd. was formed in 1890 to purchase and manage the real estate that would become the headquarters of Club Eden. The Club was not officially documented until 1899. 

Walter detailed the names and membership dates for all members since Club Eden was officially formed.  This list included five generations.  I quickly noticed that I was the only member from outside the Adams, Tillman, Radford, Billingsley, and Ericson families.  Also, I noted that the Flaming Five’s sons were now members having all taken the oath last year, 1996, when the oldest of the youngest generation was 15. 

Walter described in another exhibit that after each of their sons came home that Saturday morning that all ten of them met at the Church’s fellowship hall.  They drove three cars, Wade and John’s Blazers, and James’ van, to Little Cove Road.  The girls’ blue Plymouth was parked about 200 feet down a little lane, barely wide enough to ride a bicycle without scrapping outcropping limbs.  The two girls were another fifty feet or so down a ravine with limbs and leaves and rocks piled over and around them. David, Franklin, Raymond and Fitz carried the two girls up the embankment and down to James’ van.  That’s when they noticed one of the girls was still alive.  James said that it was Wendi.  Nothing was done to her there.  The rest of them wiped down the inside of the Plymouth with bleach and water that they had brought.  They piled into the three vehicles and drove to Franklin’s farm on Martin Road.

Walter then described how John had pulled a front-end loader out of the barn and Raymond and Fitz pulled the girls from the back of James’ van and put them in the front bucket of the loader. John drove the tractor to the backside of their property and David then dug a hole while the rest stood around watching.  When David finished, he motioned for Walter to come over.  They talked for quite a while about having a type of ceremony for the girls.  Walter finally agreed to say a prayer but he didn’t want everybody there.  David made everybody else go back to the barn and wait on him and Walter.  When they were gone Walter said a prayer and David smothered Wendi.  He used the front-end loader to push them into the hole and to pile dirt over them.  David also pushed a dead tree over the grave that was on the ground nearby.  They then scattered a ton of leaves over the grave.  David and Walter walked back to the barn and without another word being said all ten of them got in the three vehicles, drove to the Church, where they all went their separate ways.  

After reviewing all the exhibits, I noted a few discrepancies compared to statements made by Cynthia Radford and Sara Adams.  I chose to ignore them, and instead, to read the agreement.  It was simple.  In exchange for the information contained in the packet and $50,000, my clients would release Walter from all liability related to the deaths of Wendi and Cindi Murray.  Also, Matt and I would agree, on behalf of the Murrays, to encourage the District Attorney to grant Walter immunity from all prosecution in exchange for his truthful testimony.

I told Ralph that I felt like my clients would agree but obviously I had to have their approval.  I promised him that I would meet with them as soon as possible.  When Ralph was leaving, I told him that I had a question.  Without letting me finish, he said, “I know you want to know why Walter didn’t try to include his son Wade in these negotiations.”  I told him he was correct.  Ralph said that he and Walter had discussed it but both had quickly agreed that there was no way in Hell, those were Walter’s words per Ralph, that the Murrays would agree.  They would feel there was no amount large enough to appease for the actions of one of the five who had murdered their daughters.  And, Ralph said, Walter barely could barely scrape together the $50,000. 

Ralph left and I went to my office and stood by my window looking out at a mostly empty parking lot and a bubbling water fountain.  The sun was at just the right angle to refract colored lights through the spewing water.  I couldn’t help but associate water with life.  Jesus said He was the Bread of Life.  Wasn’t He also the Water of Life?  I became angry when I wondered where this Supernatural being, this all-powerful and all-loving God, had been when Wendi and Cindi needed Him the most.  Truthfully, if He is real, He was just as responsible for the deaths of those two precious girls as the Flaming Five and their fathers.  How dark and foreboding this little community in North Alabama seemed, after hearing Pastor Walter describe the horror he and other faithful members of the First Baptist Church of Christ had so quickly and easily managed.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

Wednesday, November 22, 1997 was the second worse day of my life.  It was the day before Thanksgiving and I was in the library researching the admissibility of an excited utterance for a murder case I was working on out of Dekalb County.  Tina tapped on the door, stuck her head in and said, “there is a Loree Nielson here that wants to see you.”  I immediately recalled the day Tina had announced Cynthia Radford’s phone call.  I hoped Ms. Nielson’s personal visit would be a similarly good surprise.  I was not disappointed.

I had Tina bring her into the library.  Loree was the sister of James Adams and the daughter of David and Sara Adams.  Loree told me that her mother lay dying at Gadsden Memorial Hospital and had asked Loree to see if I could come speak with her.  The only thing Loree knew was that it concerned the two girls who went missing 25 years ago.

I drove my car following Loree in hers. I met with Mrs. Adams.  She thanked me for coming and told me that she had to confess a secret before she died.  She kept asking me to forgive her.  Much to my satisfaction, the story Mrs. Adams gave me started off much like the one Cynthia Radford had described.  Their sons had both come home late Saturday morning distraught and panicked.  David, her husband, left with James and didn’t return for several hours.  He made her promise that she would never tell anyone what had happened.  David told her that all ten of them, the Flaming Five and each of their fathers, met, took two vehicles, and drove to Little Cove Road where the two girls and their car were hidden.  Surprisingly, one of the girls was still alive.  The fathers quickly assessed the life-altering trouble their five sons were in and took control.

Franklin Ericson said they could not leave the bodies with their car and suggested they take them to his farm off Martin Road.  That’s what they did, leaving the little blue Plymouth Valiant hidden off Little Cove Road.  Ericson had a front-end loader that he had rented to deepen a dried-up pond.  He used it to dig a hole on the back side of the property.  David Adams and Walter Tillman stayed behind and made everyone else leave.  David told Mrs. Adams that he could not bury Wendi alive.  He said that one of the boys had identified her as the one who was still living.  David told Mrs. Adams how he had used an old cushion from the tractor to smother Wendi.  Then, Pastor Tillman said a prayer and David buried the two girls.  He used Franklin’s front-end loader to push the trunk of a fallen tree over the grave.

Mrs. Adams told me that her secret had haunted her ever since James had shared the horrible news that fateful Saturday morning.

Sara Adams died Thanksgiving morning around 7:00 a.m.  After I had met with her on Wednesday, I had returned to the office and tried to find a court reporter who would meet me at the hospital to properly record her testimony.  The earliest I could arrange was Friday morning.  However, that was an appointment Sara failed to keep.

I thought all weekend about what Wendi must have gone through.  First, she was struck repeatedly with a shovel.  Then, refusing to die while choosing to fight with the hope she could survive a most horrible nightmare, she was smothered to death and pushed into a forgotten grave.

I knew that David Adams was a murderer and Pastor Tillman just as guilty.  But, I also knew that even though they could be prosecuted, it was unlikely they would ever be convicted.  What admissible evidence would the prosecutor have?  Neither David or the Pastor would confess.  Who else knew exactly what had happened after these two criminals had made the others leave?  Even if the Flaming Five and the other three fathers knew, they would never breathe a word.  I even doubted whether Loree knew.  Her mother would only talk with me after Loree had left the room.

After spending most of the long Thanksgiving weekend holed up in my study at home, I decided I would keep this information to myself.  I wouldn’t even share it with Matt.  I knew if I did he would tell me I had to share Mrs. Adams’ story with the District Attorney.  I also knew in my heart that getting justice for Wendi and Cindi would not come from the Marshall County criminal justice system.  I could only hope that Bill and Nellie Murray would win their wrongful death lawsuit letting the world know the truth about the Flaming Five.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

The Friday after Labor Day, Tina buzzed me over the intercom and said a Cynthia Radford was on the phone claiming to have important information.  I took the call.

She said she was the ex-wife of Raymond Radford and asked if we could meet.  She said it was important to meet in secret and asked me to come to her lake house in Guntersville.  She suggested we meet in the Marshall Medical Center North parking lot and she would drive us to her cabin.  I told her I needed to know what this was about. She said she might have information that could help Matt and me with our wrongful death case against the Flaming Five.  She used that phrase. 

Over coffee at her kitchen table she thanked me for coming and said I had to make her a promise before she would tell me what she knew.  I told her I wouldn’t know unless she was more specific.  She asked me if her son Randall could ever be prosecuted again for the deaths of Wendi and Cindi Murray?  I told her no, since Randall’s case had been dismissed by the prosecutor back in 1973.  I thought she would catch my lie but she didn’t.  It was wrong of me not to be truthful and explain that double jeopardy didn’t attach until an actual trial had begun.  That certainly hadn’t been the case.  Instead of being truthful, I rationalized, believing that real justice might be fulfilled if I learned what Cynthia had to say.

She said that she divorced Raymond in 1976 but their troubles started several years earlier.  She told me that he had protected Randall by helping dispose of the bodies and covering up their deaths.  She also said that Wade, James, Fred, and John’s fathers also were involved.

I asked her why she had not disclosed this information before.  She said because she was trying to protect Randall, just like Raymond did, but just in a different way.  She described how Randall had come home late Saturday morning all panicky.  He first told us that there had been an accident and two girls were killed.  After Raymond asked him why he hadn’t gone to the police Randall came clean saying that he would go to jail if they found out what he, John, and James had done.  Randall was rather incoherent but he did say that he and the others had done a very stupid thing and felt like they had to get rid of the evidence.  He told us that the two girls and their car were hidden in some woods down Little Cove Road.  Raymond and Randall left and didn’t return for several hours.

Cynthia stated that Raymond and the other fathers were involved in moving and burying the two girls.  She said that she had never known where the graves were but said that it made sense when the bodies were discovered at Pebblebrook.  She asked me if I thought it was God that had caused Bradley Vickers to bulldoze the wrong lot.  I told her that I doubted that was what happened.

Cynthia then told me how she found out about Raymond’s involvement with bribing Nyra, Darla, Gina, and Rickie. She said Randall had told her that Raymond and the other four fathers coerced the cheerleaders to give false testimony in exchange for college funding and periodic payments over ten years to begin after the Flaming Five had been cleared of all criminal charges. Fred’s father, Fitz, had handled the money and the payments.

Cynthia went on to tell me how Raymond had gotten involved with Darla’s mother eventually marrying her after divorcing Cynthia.  I could tell that Cynthia was greatly motivated by revenge from having been scorned by Raymond.  She told me that she hoped the Murray’s lawsuit bankrupted Radford Hardware and Building Supply.

Two weeks later I had Cynthia retell her story on the record. She submitted to a deposition in our law office.  Raymond’s attorney, Kerry Fox, was dumbfounded.  I almost felt sorry for him.  Not only were the stellar reputations of the Flaming Five and their fathers in the cross-hairs, but the assets of five rock solid institutions were exposed to hurricane-force winds.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

In July, I was contacted by Nate Baker, a reporter with the New York Times.  He said that he was in town researching a follow-up story to the Times’ 1986 article, Designer Outlets Transform a Town.  Nate said the follow-up article had been scheduled for publication in early 1996 but the original reporter had both a personal and professional conflict.  With the research deadline approaching, the newspaper’s chief editor decided to change the deadline transforming the assignment into an eleven-year expanded feature. 

Nate asked if he could come by the office to discuss the Murray case.  He said two months ago when he was assigned the project he did some preliminary research, including reading several local and state newspapers, and had learned about the wrongful death lawsuit against the five most prominent families in Boaz.  He said he had decided to feature the 25-year unsolved case of Wendi and Cindi Murray alongside the devolution of the Boaz outlets.

I didn’t have any appointments and told Nate to come to the office. To my surprise, he had already spent six weeks in Boaz working on his story.  He gave me a copy of the Times’ 1986 article about how Boaz was transformed by the outlets.  I scanned the article and said I had vivid memories of visiting Boaz from my home in Atlanta during the late 1980s and seeing dozens and dozens of tour buses hauling in light-hearted folks with heavy pocketbooks to sometimes spend hundreds and even thousands of dollars each.  I also said it was a shame that pride, ego, and jealousy could not have been set aside for the greater good.  Nate asked me why I thought the outlets had failed.

I gave him my opinion.  Boaz had pretty much always been ruled by five families.  They were the only game in town, running things with a club mentality.  They were a club, it was known as Club Eden.  In the early to mid-80s club member Raymond Radford got a wild idea that Boaz needed to think outside the box so to speak and develop some type of unique draw for people far and wide.  For years the H.D. Lee Company had a plant in Boaz making mainly blue-jeans.  Radford did some research and learned that the Lee Company was owned by Vanity Fair and that it was planning on closing the Boaz sewing facility.  Vanity Fair was a huge retailer with dozens of stores.  Radford convinced the Club to develop an offer for Vanity Fair.  Mayor Adams, also a Club member, convinced the City Council to waive all city sales taxes for 15 years and to provide over $300,000 in renovation funds.  In exchange for these incentives, Vanity Fair would lease the twenty stores that surrounded its complex to the City.  The Club, along with the Executive Director of the Chamber of Commerce, flew to Denver to present their plan.  They were successful but someway the Club wound up controlling the outlying 20 stores which allowed it to re-lease them to manufacturer outlets.  All was great in Boaz for nearly two years.  Club Eden was in control, making thousands per month, and Boaz sales taxes from the 20 outlying stores were filling the City’s coffers with more sales taxes than all the other local retail merchants combined.

Club Eden was surprised in late 1987.  On Black Friday, the Birmingham News featured an article about Atlanta retail developer Carter Livingston’s plans to build a 200-unit retail facility just up the street from the Vanity Fair Complex.  The article said Livingston had already secured the 160-acre tract of land and would begin construction in early January 1987.  For nearly 100 years Club Eden had controlled Boaz. No business of any significance could open within the city limits of Boaz without the Club’s unofficial approval.  Those who had attempted to ignore the Club learned the hard way with several losing stores and inventories to unexplained fires.  At least two people had lost their lives, or so it seemed.

Carter Livingston was true to his word.  In record time, the Manufacturers’ Outlet Center of Boaz opened September 15, 1987 just one month before the stock market crash on October 19th.  But, this didn’t seem to stop or even decrease sales that quadrupled those of the Vanity Fair center.  This was great news for the City of Boaz bringing unimagined revenues from its 4% sales tax.  But, it was worse than death for Club Eden. There was nothing more important than power and control to these five families.  They would never accept defeat.  Success was the only acceptable result.  The short of it, over the next two years, Club Eden built six outlet shopping centers.  None of them were in Boaz.  The Club’s plan was truly long-term.  They knew that people came in droves to Boaz because of the great deals.  The Club also knew that all these thousands of customers were not loyal citizens of Boaz.  They would abandon Boaz in a heartbeat if they had another choice.  This is what Club Eden provided.  By the early 1990s, the Boaz outlets were struggling and dozens of stores were closing.  A skeleton of stores remained until mid-1995 when Carter Livingston bankrupted his Manufacturers’ Outlet Center of Boaz.

Nate thanked me for my detailed description of why the Boaz outlet phenomenon had failed.  We went to lunch and returned.  When we sat back down in the conference room, he asked me if I knew Clinton Murray?  I said I did, that he was a cousin of Wendi and Cindi Murray.  Nate said that when he first met with the Murray’s that Clinton was present but wouldn’t talk with him.  But, after several visits he apparently realized that Nate was serious about telling Wendi and Cindi’s story. 

Nate said that Clinton had found Cindi’s journal in 1996 when their parents finally decided to dismantle the twin’s bedroom.  Clinton, with Bill and Nellie’s permission, had shared it with Nate.  Apparently, Cindi had been to Club Eden once before the May 25, 1972 graduation party.  She wrote an entry dated May 11, 1972: “met Randall and James at the Boaz Dairy Queen.  We went to their clubhouse but I don’t know where it is since they made me wear a dark hood.  They built a fire and we sat around and talked.  They invited me to their graduation party in two weeks and asked if I could bring a girlfriend.  I told them I had a twin sister but she was shy and didn’t even date.  They said they would give me $200.00 if I brought Wendi with me.”

Nate also told me that he had five investigators working for him.  Each of them had been assigned to one of the Flaming Five and charged with watching and recording their every move.  Nate said that he was certain that every one of them except Wade Tillman was having an affair.  James Adams meets a Sherry Sampson at either the Day’s Inn or the Red Roof Inn in Gadsden every Thursday at 11:00 a.m.  Randall Radford goes either on Monday or Tuesday to a house on Pecan Avenue in Albertville to see Cissy Sprayberry.  Fred Billingsley meets his secretary, Judy Killian, at her house on Pleasant Grove Road at least twice a week—usually over a weekday lunch.  John Ericson is more discreet by meeting his housekeeper on Wednesday afternoon at his house while his wife makes her weekly shopping trip to Huntsville.  But, Nate said, here is where it gets interesting.  Wade’s wife Gina always goes to Huntsville on Wednesday with Ericson’s wife Judith.  Apparently, they have found some very interesting stores at the Huntsville Hilton.

After Nate filled me in on random and non-recurring trysts by the Flaming Five, he announced that his article was scheduled for publication the middle of October.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the Flaming Five continued to go about their daily lives as though success and happiness were as fixed and unchanging for them as gravity was for the rest of us mortals.

By 1997, Wade Tillman was, for all practical purposes, the lead pastor at First Baptist Church of Christ.  His father, Walter, had been pastor since the late 50s and was experiencing some serious health problems.  Wade was just as much a Christian fundamentalist as his father, believing with all his heart that the Bible was God’s inerrant, infallible Word.

Wade married Gina Culvert in August 1972.  Everyone in the community had been surprised.  This was understandable since it was common knowledge Gina had a reputation for having loose morals.  She was not prime wife material for a future pastor.  What the community didn’t know was what I learned during Gina’s deposition.  Once law enforcement began investigating the disappearance of Wendi and Cindi Murray, Gina’s mother, Beverly Culvert, pressured Gina into telling the truth about what happened at the graduation party.  Beverly saw an opportunity.  After Raymond Radford and David Adams had talked privately with Gina and offered her a free college education in exchange for her false testimony, she called Walter Tillman and said that Gina would tell the truth unless Wade married Gina. 

Beverly was smart.  She had audio-recorded the conversation Gina had with Raymond and David and told Walter that the tape was in a safety deposit box and only her attorney knew where it was.  Beverly had promised that if any harm came to either her or Gina that the tape would be released to the press.  She even wrote out the definition of ‘harm’ to include Wade initiating any type of separation or divorce from Gina.  Beverly made all parties sign the document she had a Birmingham attorney prepare.  Ultimately, Walter and Wade’s mother, Betty, realized that they had been outfoxed and had no choice but to demand that Wade marry Gina.  Wade also valued his freedom and consented to marrying Gina Renee Culvert on a rainy Saturday afternoon in late August 1972 at First Baptist Church of Christ among a small gathering of family and close friends.

Once again, the community was surprised that Wade and Gina adjusted well to married life, with both going to the University of Alabama for degrees, and on to Dallas, Texas where Wade earned his Master of Divinity diploma from the Southwest Theological Seminary.  Within two years after returning to Boaz, Wade and Gina were the proud parents of two children: Warren, born in 1981, and Grace, born in 1983.

After graduating from Auburn, James Adams had no problem reestablishing himself as a leader in the Boaz community.  He quickly put his marketing degree to good use in recommending and initiating a move of Adams Buick, Chevrolet & GMC from North Main Street to the intersection of Highways 431 and 168, a much more visible and accessible location.  James also joined the Rotary Club, the Lions Club, and First Baptist Church of Christ.  In September 1977, he married Rachel Carlisle, a young lady from Demopolis he met while at Auburn.  In 1979, Loree was born and in 1982 Rachel again gave birth, this time to a boy, Justin James Adams.

In 1992 James again motivated and directed another major building project.  This time, he and the other four members of the Flaming Five, spearheaded the creation of a campaign that raised cash and pledges of over $2,000,000 for the construction of the Faith and Family Life Center at First Baptist Church of Christ.  This facility, along with several large classrooms, included an Olympic size swimming pool, and a full-size gymnasium and basketball court.  The Flaming Five started an area youth league that focused on basketball and Bible.  The Center became a catalyst for new church members, drawing couples with children, both boys and girls, from as far away as Douglas and Crossville.  The modern facility was no doubt a drawing card but the real magnet was the vibrant reputation the Flaming Five had eternally etched into the minds and memories of basketball fans throughout North Alabama.

After a glorious career on the courts at Auburn University, Randall Radford returned to Boaz to join the family business—Radford Hardware & Building Supply.  Randall, like James, had not wasted his educational opportunities in college.  With a degree in Finance, Randall revolutionized how Radford Hardware & Building Supply made credit available to its customers.  Randall had learned that lowering credit requirements increased sales with very little decrease in collections.  Providing easy credit terms to most every customer also allowed Randall to keep prices at a premium.  Fred Billingsley at First State Bank of Boaz developed a factoring program for Radford Hardware that allowed Randall to inject cash into the operation when needed.  In 1978, Randall married Randi Bonds.  Randi was the younger sister of Ricki Bonds, Randall’s cheerleader classmate and frequent visitor to Camp Eden.  Randi had always been the studious daughter of Robert and Regina Bonds and had earned a pharmacy degree while at Auburn and now was a drug rep with Merck.  Randall and Randi had two children, Carrie born in 1980, and Clay born in 1982.  Randall was fully committed to Radford Hardware & Building Supply and dedicated at least 60 hours per week assuring that the fourth-generation business would continue for his son Clay, and hopefully his grandchildren.  However, Randall’s passion was ‘Double B’ as he called it: Basketball and Bible.  He worked tirelessly with James Adams to raise the money for the Faith and Family Life Center at First Baptist Church of Christ.  Now, Randall was spending every Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, and most Saturday afternoons, teaching and coaching teenagers from three counties—always with his 15-year-old son Clay by his side.  The sessions would start with a 45-minute Bible lesson in one of the modern high-media classrooms and then an hour on the basketball court.  Randall fully believed that a person could know Christ just as the disciples had known Him as they walked the dusty trails of Galilee over 2,000 years ago.

Fred Billingsley graduated from the University of Alabama with a degree in banking.  He returned to Boaz and went to work at First State Bank of Boaz where his father, Fitz, was now both President and Chief Executive Officer.  He also owned a controlling interest in the thriving bank.  Fred started off as a junior accountant but by 1997 was Vice-President of Operations.  Fred married Phyllis Taylor from Albertville in June 1980. They had two children, Fulton born in 1981, and Stella born in 1983.  Fred and Phyllis joined First Baptist Church of Christ in 1978 and were active members from the start.  Fred, although not as active as James and Randall, supported the basketball and Bible youth program.  Fred’s main interest was money and spent most of his time seeking out opportunities for Club Eden.

John Ericson graduated in 1979 from the University of Alabama with a Masters in Real Estate Development.  He and his wife Judith returned from Tuscaloosa to Boaz for John to join Ericson Real Estate & Property Development as Vice-President, focusing on high-end residential sales, and subdivision opportunities in Boaz, Albertville, and Guntersville.  John and Judith Harrington had met in the summer of 1970 at Camp Winnataska, a Christian youth camp in Birmingham. Judith was from Montgomery.  They continued to pursue their relationship when they returned to the camp in the summer of 1971.  The couple married in June 1974 while both were students at the University.  They had two children.  Bridget was born in 1977, and Danny in 1981.  John and Judith likewise joined First Baptist Church of Christ.  John was equally as active as Randall in the ‘Double B’ program. 

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

Almost immediately, Matt and I started taking depositions.

Nyra Sue Gibson Ellsworth now lives in Montgomery. She was one of the four cheerleaders who were at the Graduation Party.  Attorney Gil Burns, a friend of Matt’s, allowed us to use his conference room.

She arrived without an attorney and before she was sworn in she looked at me and said, “Micaden, I am sorry I did not help you back in 1973.”  I started to respond but Matt said this all needed to be on the record.  After the court reporter swore her in and after he laid out the general rules for depositions, Matt began:

Matt: What did you say to Micaden when you first walked in this morning?

Nyra: I am sorry I did not help you back in 1973.

Matt: What did you mean?

Nyra: I did not tell all I knew.

Matt: Let’s go back to that day, May 25, 1972.  You agree you were at the graduation party that took place at Club Eden?

Nyra: I do, at the time I didn’t know what the place was called.  I learned that later.

Matt: Who else was at the party?

Nyra: Gina Culvert, Rickie Bonds, Darla Sims, two girls I didn’t really know named Wendi and Cindi, Micaden, and the Flaming Five.

Matt: If you will, name the Flaming Five.

Nyra: Wade Tillman, James Adams, Randall Radford, Fred Billingsley, and John Ericson.

Matt: How did you get to the party?

Nyra: I rode with the Flaming Five.

Matt: Where did they pick you up?

Nyra: At a barn off Martin Road.

Matt: Can you be a little more descriptive?

Nyra: It was a place John’s father owned.  We had met there before.  Anytime we went to their Club we would drive there and one of them would pick us up. 

Matt: Are you referring to Gina Culvert, Rickie Bonds, Darla Sims?

Nyra: Yes, we drove my car that night and James, Randall, and John were already there.

Matt: Do you know where the Hutchinson’s live on Martin Road?

Nyra: Yes, if you’re talking about Whitesville on the hill?

Matt:  For the record, why did you call it Whitesville?

Nyra: That’s a nickname.  What I always heard it called.  Everything is white, the house, the barns, the fence.

Matt:  Where was the Ericson’s barn in relation to the Huntchinson’s place?

Nyra: Just beyond on the right.  Go past for about a half-mile and it’s on the right.  I haven’t been out that way in 25 years.  There was a gate and the barn was way back beyond a grove of trees down a little narrow lane.  The road or path kept going a long way to the back side of the property.  John and I had walked back there a few times before that night.

Matt: So, you left your car parked at the barn and all seven of you went to Club Eden?

Nyra: Yes

Matt: Who drove?

Nyra:  John drove his red Blazer and James drove his van.  All the cheerleaders rode with John.

Matt: So, Randall, James, and John were there in two vehicles?

Nyra: Yes.

Matt: You mentioned that there were two other girls present at the party.  How did they get there?

Nyra: Oh, I forgot.  We followed Randall and James to the Dairy Queen where they picked up the two girls.

Matt: Had they driven there?

Nyra: I assume so.  They were sitting in a little blue car waiting on us when we arrived.

Matt: Give me an overview of what happened at the party.

Nyra: We arrived and grilled out a cooler full of steaks.  I remember Micaden and Wendi, she had introduced herself.  The two of them went walking and, inside the tent.  It was like they already knew each other because they stayed paired up all night.  We all hung out by the fire and started playing spin the bottle.  I’m sure you know what that is.

Matt: Tell me please.

Nyra: You sit in a circle and spin a bottle.  Whoever it points to goes to the tent.  And the next person spins the bottle.  The person of the opposite sex that the bottle points to goes to the tent.  It’s up to the two people in the tent to decide what they want to do.  I’m pretty sure we all made out with each other that night.  Except for Micaden and Wendi.  Like I said, they stayed paired off to themselves all night.

Matt: Did anyone force you to do anything you didn’t want to do?

Nyra: No.  Absolutely not.

Matt: When did you leave the party?

Nyra: It was late, probably 1:00 or 2:00 a.m.

Matt: Who did you leave with?

Nyra: All six of us girls left with James, Randall, and John, in James’ van.

Matt: So, Micaden, Wade, and Fred stayed at the Club?

Nyra: Yes.  James drove us back to the barn.

Matt: What about Wendi and Cindi?

Nyra: James didn’t drop them off at Dairy Queen.  He just drove straight to the barn on Martin Road.

Matt: What happened when you all got there?

Nyra: Gina, Rickie, Darla, and I got in my car and we left.  We went to Darla’s house and slept for hours.

Matt: So, when you four left the barn on Martin Road, Wendi and Cindi were there with Randall, James, and John?

Nyra: Yes.

Matt: Do you know why James didn’t drop them off at Dairy Queen?  Wasn’t that where they had left their car?  Ya’ll had to pass it on the way from the Club to the barn, didn’t you?

Nyra: That’s right.  I remember Wendi saying, “you missed the turn” or something like that.  She seemed upset that James didn’t stop and let them out.

Matt: What did James say?

Nyra: He said something about wanting to show Wendi and Cindi where the barn was so they would know where to meet next time.

Matt: Is there anything else you can remember about what happened at the barn before you and your three friends drove off?

Nyra: Wendi asked if she and Cindi could go with us.

Matt: What did you say?

Nyra: I said sure, but we’ll have to cram inside my car.

Matt: Why didn’t they?

Nyra: The guys wouldn’t let them.  They kept saying that was out of the way and that they would drop them off.

Matt: What happened next?

Nyra: I drove me, Gina, Rickie, and Darla back to her house.

Matt: Leaving Wendi and Cindi alone at the barn with Randall, James, and John?

Nyra: Yes.

Matt: You of course realize that this is not the story you gave at Micaden’s trial?

Nyra: I do, and again Micaden, I am so very sorry that I lied.

Matt: I have a copy of your trial testimony.  In it you say that Micaden was the one who drove all the girls home from the party dropping you, Gina, Rickie, and Darla off at Boaz High School, and then leaving with Wendi and Cindi.

Nyra: I know that’s what I said but now you know what really happened.

Matt: Why did you lie?

Nyra: I was pressured to lie.

Matt: By who?

Nyra: By the Flaming Five and their fathers.

Matt: Please be more specific.

Nyra: The day after the party, John came to see me and told me that the two girls, Wendi and Cindi, were missing.  He said there was going to be trouble for all of us.  He said we needed to go for a ride.  He drove us back to the Ericson’s barn. Everyone was there.

Matt: Please name everyone who was there.

Nyra: Of course, me and John, his father Franklin, Randall and his father Raymond, Fred and his father Fitz, Wade and his father Walter, James and his father David.  Also, Gina Culvert, Rickie Bonds, and Darla Sims were there.

Matt: Please continue.

Nyra: Walter and David were kind of the ring leaders.  They said that the Flaming Five could likely wind up in prison unless we got our stories straight.  Walter said that Randall, James, and John had dropped the twins off at the Dairy Queen early Saturday morning and that’s the last they saw them.  He said no one knew what happened to them but the truth would raise too much suspicions for the Flaming Five.  David then told me and the other girls what we were to say when we were questioned.  None of us liked the idea.  Darla and Gina refused.  Fitz said that they had an offer that would change our lives forever.  He said that each of us would receive a fully paid education at either Auburn or Alabama and that we would be paid a monthly payment of $200.00 for ten years.  Walter then handed each of us an envelope containing $1,000.00.  The Flaming Five and their fathers all made us promise that we would never say anything about this meeting or our agreement.  They threatened us and our families if we ever said anything.

The deposition ended and Matt and I drove back to Boaz thankful for the helpful evidence we had discovered but both knowing that it was far from what we would have to have to win Bill and Nellie Murray’s wrongful death case.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

When Karla, Lewis, and I moved back from Atlanta we visited Clear Creek Baptist Church for several weeks.  It just wasn’t the same without Brother G.  And the more I investigated the Murray’s wrongful death case, the more I realized that the walls of First Baptist Church of Christ held a library full of secrets, many of which were likely relevant to Wendi and Cindi’s justice.

The first Sunday we visited we attended only the worship hour.  We thought it best to tip toe into the cool waters before jumping off the high dive into the deep and lurking waters of Sunday School.

By the end of summer 1997, the Murray’s wrongful death lawsuit against the Flaming Five was well known throughout Marshall County.  It was perpetual talk, from old men sipping coffee at Grumpy’s Diner, to women of all ages getting their hair done at the ten assorted beauty salons scattered across Boaz.

I could not have imagined a colder welcome.  We walked in and were guided by an usher to the back of the middle section.  Only two older ladies gave us a smile and a handshake during the fellowship song before preaching began. However, I did feel the other four hundred or so eyes staring at me with each painting my face equally evil alongside the ever-roving Satan.  Particularly burning were the dark eyes glaring down on me from the choir loft.  Randall Radford stood like a statue in the center of the back row with uncharacteristically drooping shoulders.  I guessed he had rather be on the golf course than worshipping here together.  As other people mingled, shook hands, and sang “Victory in Jesus,” I saw James Adams, Fred Billingsley, and John Ericson, along with their wives and parents, anchoring the front half of the center section.

Pastor Walter Tillman, Wade’s father, was out of town leaving the preaching to his equally competent son.  Wade announced that his father would continue his series on Marriage the following Sunday and that he had been led to preach on the grace and wisdom of Jesus.  I noticed the church bulletin had titled Wade’s sermon as “Saved from Stones.” I recognized the scripture verses next to the sermon title knowing they described how Jesus had handled the woman caught in adultery.  Wade’s eyes caught mine when he asked the congregation to stand for him to read John 8:1-11:

“Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, They said unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou? This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. So, when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again, he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”

I would have given half a year’s salary to have known what Wade had truly thought as he had read these verses.  I would never know but I did learn how talented he was behind the pulpit.  Wade presented a powerful three-point sermon that would please any Southern Baptist preacher.  He analogized the woman’s plight and problem to a broad array of modern day issues, including a major exam at school, a struggling business, and the loss of a loved one.  Wade acknowledged that life in America didn’t include being stoned for adultery, yet we felt as though it did.  He argued that we all face problems that to us cause us to run away if nothing more than in our minds.  He proclaimed that there is a better way.  He led us through how Jesus stood between the guilty woman and the ready stones of her accusers.  Wade encouraged us to notice how the woman didn’t continue to run, that she stood, weak-kneed no doubt, and faced the mighty wave rolling her way, and rested in the mighty wisdom of Christ.

It was a moving sermon and the entire congregation sat silent lapping up every word. I couldn’t help but think, something that I knew Christians were warned against doing, that this scripture wasn’t even part of the earliest Greek manuscripts from which the Bible was taken.  I had long concluded that the Bible was simply a man-made book and Wade’s verses, like so many others, had simply been added hundreds of years later. I wondered how otherwise educated and rational people could believe the Bible was the inerrant, infallible Word of God.  Of course, I knew why.  They, like me, all my growing up years, had been told one side of the story.  They had never been told the truth.  And, like so much of life itself, many are not interested in the truth.

While exiting the auditorium, I shook Fitz Billingsley’s hand.  I hadn’t seen Fred’s father since I was in the 11th grade when my Dad had taken me to First State Bank to co-sign a promissory note for me to buy my first car, a 1968 Chevrolet Corvair.  I’m sure Fitz would not have shaken my hand in most any other circumstance.  But here, he was one of two deacons stationed at the back door charged with extending the right hand of fellowship as God’s people marched outside and onward to share with neighbors and friends how Jesus was always near, saving them from stones.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

We put our furniture and other belongings in storage and lived with Karla’s parents until we rented a house on College Avenue in Boaz.  It was an older house, but with ample room for the three of us.  It was within easy walking distance of Matt’s office in Scott Plaza.

I didn’t waste any time. Three days after leaving Atlanta I reported for work.  On the ride in from Rodentown, where the Jacobson’s lived, I was thankful Matt had called last night and given me an overview of what to expect.  I really liked him saying, “welcome to Bearden and Tanner, Attorneys at Law.”

Matt had a small but busy solo practice. After I arrived, the number of lawyers had instantly grown by 100 percent.  But, if you counted Tina, the law firm had legal knowledge approaching the big firm I had just resigned from in Atlanta.  Her name was Tina Bonds. She was the heavy lifter who wore a multitude of hats including secretary, paralegal, bookkeeper, Internet snoop, and professional gopher.

In our phone call yesterday Matt had given me the rundown on ‘Tiny,’ as she called herself.  He warned me that Tina and only Tina could refer to her as ‘Tiny.’ Tina Guthrie Bonds was the daughter of Big Jim Guthrie, the most famous lawyer in North Alabama for over sixty years.  He practiced in Gadsden from the early 1930s until five years ago when he died of a heart attack making a closing argument in an automobile accident case in the Honorable Donald Stewart’s courtroom.  Big Jim was 88.

Tina graduated from Etowah High School in 1963.  At eighteen she already had eight years’ experience working in a law office.  Since she was ten years old Big Jim had her scanning caselaw books searching for some barn burner legal principle he could use to bushwhack an opposing attorney.  ‘Tiny’ was Big Jim’s invention.  He said there was nothing tiny about her.  She was tall like him and between her ears lay the “most fertile mind ever to darken the halls of Etowah High.”  By the time Tina was in 9th grade, she was sitting beside Big Jim at counsel feeding him cross-examination questions that often caused even the judges to shake their heads in disbelief.

It took only ten years for the perfect duo to run ashore.  About half of Big Jim’s clients were blacks but he didn’t see the color of their skin.  His only concern was for their inalienable rights.  Tina dating a black man named Robbie changed Big Jim’s vision.  The short of it was most unfortunate.  It likely severed the two best legal minds ever to team up in Alabama.  Tina and Robbie were arrested in the Fall of 1972 by Boaz Police when they were passing through returning from a trip to Huntsville.  The patrol officer didn’t like the feisty Tina and put her in cuffs for speeding, obstruction of justice, and ‘smart-assing’ a police officer.  Two days later Matt had received a call from Big Jim himself.  He said he wouldn’t come to his daughter’s rescue but knew she might need a second chair because she would never plea out.

Two weeks later Tina moved to Boaz and became the anchor for new-to-Boaz attorney Matt Bearden.  Robbie came along too but had a change of mind a month later after weekly pull-overs by the Boaz Police. Tina said goodbye and wished him well.

Tina had a double front office spending most of her time in the one only partially seen by clients waiting out in her front receptionist office.  The dark room, as it was called, was like a war zone.  Her large oak desk in the middle of the room contained the only semblance of organization and neatness.  Along the edges of the six-foot desk were stacks of multi-colored files forming a giant U.  Within the U was the protected zone where only one file could be open at a time.  A two-foot square computer monitor sat on an attached side table that was six inches or so lower than the desk top.  An ancient oak chair without rollers was Tina’s favorite for sitting here to draft the standard motions for the various divorce, bankruptcy, criminal, and custody cases that Matt handled.  He drafted the more complex motions and sent them over to Tina via the office’s intranet.

Along the walls in Tina’s back office were floor to ceiling shelves that were in total disarray although she warned me not to even touch anything on the shelves.  Southeastern Reporters, forms books, and what looked like full collections of John Grisham, James Patterson, and Lawrence Block were just a few of what I saw during my first office tour.  Along the front window were two six-foot tables that Tina said were for case intake and bookkeeping.  In front of the shelves along the wall behind her giant oak desk were two card tables where a recent tornado had camped out.  She said, “the civil table is Discovery in and out.  The criminal table is Discovery in and out.”  I didn’t question her.

After an hour with Tina, Matt finally came out of his office and directed me to a cramped little office next to a large back room that served quadruple duty as file center, kitchen, utility, and recreation headquarters, complete with ping-pong and pool tables.

My office was empty except for an old five-foot oak kitchen table, a leather chair, a computer desk, and one metal bookcase. A telephone was on the table. “Sorry about your office.  I’m looking for us another place, maybe we can buy something before too long.”  Matt said.

Tina brought me the Murray file and I spent the rest of the morning reading a memorandum that Tina had drafted, and reviewing the complete transcripts of the case, State of Alabama vs. Micaden Lewis Tanner. Vividly reliving the darkest days of my life had spun my mind and stomach leaving me both sick and hungry. At 12:00 noon Matt took me to lunch at the Food Basket in Albertville.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

On March 21st, 1997, a human skull was found when a bulldozer was clearing a spot for Stan and Jessica Jennings new house in the Pebblebrook subdivision being developed by Ericson Real Estate. Matt called with the news and speculated this could be Wendi and Cindi Murray’s way of showing up to demand justice.  I told him I hoped he was right but I doubted it was true.  It simply appeared unbelievable especially after Matt learned that the bulldozer operator had been clearing the wrong lot.  Matt heard that the Jennings had met with Wilcox Construction Company’s owner, Brad Vickers, a week earlier.  They had discussed exactly what they wanted done: which trees to remove, which to leave, and the location and dimensions of a partial basement included in their house plans.  Brad was sick the day he was supposed to start work and sent his son Bradley.  Someway he confused Lot signs 31 and 13 and wound up on the wrong side of Pebble Lane, the most remote street in the 300-acre subdivision. 

Lot 13 became an official crime scene when the State’s forensic team unearthed two complete skeletons.  Two weeks later, the State Lab released the results of their testing.  Finally, after almost 25 years, the Douglas High School twin sisters had been found.  Their graves had opened and Wendi and Cindi had walked out demanding justice.

What gave me absolute clarity that it was time to return to Boaz was what happened next.   After my trial and before I left Boaz for Atlanta in 1973, I had met with Wendi and Cindi’s parents.  Someway over the years they began to trust me, that I had had no part in their daughter’s pain and suffering.  We had formed a mutually sad but satisfying relationship.  Even though we rarely talked we did exchange Christmas cards every year.  But, I was still shocked when Matt called me three days later telling me that the Murray’s had hired him to file a lawsuit against Wade Tillman, James Adams, Randall Radford, Fred Billingsley, and John Ericson.  He said that Alabama law allowed such a delayed lawsuit based on newly discovered evidence that the plaintiff could not have reasonably discovered earlier. 

Matt asked me to make sure I was sitting down.  He described how he had, on a hunch, investigated the ownership of the subdivision property.  County records revealed that Franklin Ericson, John’s father, had purchased the property in 1970 and had pretty much ignored it other than using the front 25 acres to maintain a few head of cattle.  Also, Matt said that Lot 13 had been purchased by Boaz Land Company, an LLC (Limited Liability Company) that had two members, John Ericson and Wade Tillman.  Before I could say anything, Matt said, “these discoveries are the clearest reasons you will ever have to justify moving to Boaz.”  Without hesitation, I agreed.

Three weeks later Karla, Lewis, and I left Atlanta for Boaz and an unimaginable life.  I should have been happy but was overwhelmed with grief over an incident I had been unable, until now, to even mention.  It was the third anniversary of the suspicious fire that had destroyed the home place built by my great-grandfather in 1899, and that had killed my dear Mom and Dad.  All during the drive home all I could think was that Lewis would never know the joy of experiencing life at Tannerville with grandparents who were the most joyous and happy couple I had ever known.

The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

Over the years, I had several times entertained the notion of returning to Boaz. In 1987 when Lewis was born, I realized that I had already practiced seven years in Atlanta, two more than the minimum I had agreed with Matt.  But, at that time, I had two cases that chained my focus. 

In late summer 1992, I had a weird cloud of nostalgia hover over me raining down feelings of revenge I had never experienced.  The 20th anniversary of Wendi and Cindi’s death had occurred in May.  Also, it didn’t help that Randall and Fred had been elected to the First Baptist Church of Christ’s deacon board.  Nor, the fact James Adams was elected Mayor.  An afternoon spent with Matt over the Labor Day weekend, disabused me of this strong pull.  Although he still wanted us to practice law together, at some point he argued that revenge was an irrational reason to ground my decision.  Once again, I listened to the wise Matt and followed his advice.

In January 1993, Mama El died. She was 92 and just went to sleep.  The doctor said, “her heart finally gave out.”  I think it finally gave up.  After Gramp’s death in 1965, Mama El lost her way.  To an outsider, she adjusted well.  She continued her daily life pretty much as before: gardening and canning, and church and church and church.  That was all pretty much a front.  In her heart, she was the loneliest person I’ve ever known.  Alone, late at night, even in the coldest weather, she would sit out on the back porch looking over the garden, across the pasture, and to the oak grove on the southeast corner of the pond where Gramp’s had died.  I’ve often wondered whether Wendi and I would have had such a love affair if she had lived.  There was no other romance like Gramp’s and Mama El’s.  But, just like for Wendi and me, God or fate or something had other plans for Gramp’s and Mama El.  After Mama El’s funeral and before Karla, Lewis, and I returned to Atlanta, I almost decided it was time to move home.  I thought, I wanted to live in my own home, breathe the air Mama El breathed, and sit in her chair on the porch with her throw over my lap.  She was, in a way, the architect of my inner life growing up.  Like Gramp’s was for my outer life.  But, we didn’t move back.  Law and life in Atlanta kept getting in the way.

In 1995 Matt called and told me he had been diagnosed with brain cancer.  Karla and I were in Orlando on a week’s vacation.  The two of us spent the next several days walking around Disney World discussing what all we had to do before we could move.  Karla loved her teaching job and although reluctant, she bravely agreed to once again resign her position and follow me.  By the time we returned to Atlanta, Matt called with the good news that he had been misdiagnosed and only had a small non-cancerous tumor that doctors believed would not give him any problems and that hopefully would eventually dissolve.  Again, I had no clear reason to return to Boaz.

This all changed in 1997.