The search of the Oats’ house and the clubhouse took the officials most of the day. Once they arrived and served him the search warrant, Oats was escorted out. He sat at the picnic table in the yard watching as different agents entered and left the building. Having nothing more to do, he took up his time looking at the three-page search warrant Caley had presented him when the agents arrived. Under the description of the property to be searched, was a statement that described the location of his bar, all real property, vehicles and a boat moored on the Combahee River belonging to Otis Schoenfeld.
Suddenly it hit him. He and Big Al had wrapped Bubba in a tarp and took him down the river to dump him. He remembered that the man was bleeding an awful lot. Blood had been found in the clubhouse he but hoped that he could explain that by saying there were many people there the night before. Maybe they wouldn’t find anything in the back of the pickup, but it was too late to do anything about that at this point. But he wasn’t sure about the boat. Maybe the authorities hadn’t sent a separate crew to the river already. Oats’ first thought was to get Tee to help him. Tee lived in an old trailer house down Public Landing Road, only a few minutes from where Oats’ had his boat moored. Tee could help; he had to. He took out his cell phone and called Tee, who answered right away.
“Tee, this is Oats. Where are you right now?”
“At home, what’s cooking?”
“I have a strange request I am going to make. Don’t question me, as I don’t have time to get into an explanation. Just do what I am going to tell you, and do it immediately.”
“OK,” said Tee, never suspecting what he was about to hear.
“I want you to go down to the landing where my boat is tied up. Take a look around carefully. If you don’t see anyone there, take the boat south on the river. You know where it splits off about two miles from the landing. Take it into that cove and sink the son-of-bitch. I need it done and done now, do you hear me?”
“Yea, I hear you, but I know you love that boat and I don’t understand. Maybe if you are trying to collect insurance, I can buy it from you and give you a better deal,” said Tee.
“I told you don’t argue with me. Do it now. I want your word that you will do it immediately.”
“Well, this seems stupid to me. Never done anything like this before, but if that’s what you want, I’ll git er done.”
“That’s exactly what I want to be done, now get on it.”
Within 15 minutes, Tee was at the boat. No one was around. He knew that Oats kept the key under the shelf by the helm. Tee turned the key, and the faithful old diesel engine responded with a rumble. He had been out on the boat many times with Oats and knew that normally they would let the engine run a few minutes to warm up. Not today. Tee shoved the boat into gear, and it slowly moved out into the mainstream. He didn’t understand what the Oats had in mind, but he never questioned him before, and there was no need to do it now. About 15 minutes down the river, Tee came to a small stream that branched off to the north. He and Oats had fished in the stream many times. He knew that it was about 40 feet deep in the middle of the stream. The stream was only about a 100 feet wide. Tee pulled up the floorboard in the center of the old boat, got down on his knees and smashed a hole in the hull with a 6-foot length of angle iron that was in the back of the boat. Before the water started filling the boat, he smashed two more holes. Then he jumped out and swam to the shoreline. Tee knew every trail and stump in this part of the swamp. He was aware that he would have no trouble reaching his house trailer in an hour. Before he departed, he stood and watched the boat slowly tilt to one side, then slide to the bottom, making a swirl in the water before totally disappearing to rest on the soft mud below.
Suspecting only that Oats wanted to collect the insurance, Tee said to himself as the water swirled, “Oats, this is going to cost you, old buddy.”