Chapter 33
As expected the trial of Oats on murdering Cyndi and Daryl got big headlines. The jury selection alone took several days. The defense rejected eight people from the jury pool for different reasons. However, Jane was patient and let McRaine make the headlines. She knew she would have her day in court later. She took no exception to the 12 people left after McRaine’s theatrics. Ironically, unknown to anyone, one of the men selected for the jury knew Oats well and was sympathetic to the Cobb club and its activities.
After the first week of the trial, Jane had introduced several witnesses. She put Jeff on the stand last, asking him several direct questions about his relation with Oats, how he became acquainted with him and the circumstances leading up to the incident where Oats murdered Cyndi and Daryl. Then she asked him to tell in his own words what happened when Oats came to his house and asked him to help dispose of the bodies. Jeff did an excellent job of detailing the events. Then it was McRaine’s turn to question Jeff.
“Mr. Ireland, did you have intentions to kill Cyndi Cooper and Daryl Crews?”
“I did at one time.”
“Did you discuss your intentions with Mr. Schoenfeld?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you ask Mr. Schoenfeld to help you with the murders?”
“Well maybe I did, I don’t remember exactly.”
“You don’t remember, but it is possible, is it not?”
“I guess so.”
After further questioning McRaine had asked a question that he knew he couldn’t get away with, “Mr. Ireland is it possible that you killed the two young people instead of Mr. Schoenfeld?”
Jane strenuously objected, and the judge said, “Mr. McRaine you know better than to ask such a question. Mr. Ireland is not on trial here. Another maneuver like that and I will hold you in contempt. The jury will disregard the question.”
McRaine proceeded to drill Jeff for a full hour with questions about the murder, doing his best to set up the possibility in the minds of the jurors that Jeff could have indeed murdered Cyndi and Daryl instead of his client.
Then Jane Winfrey called Caley to the stand. Caley testified that in her first interview with Jeff Ireland he confessed to the murder of the two people and she didn’t believe him. She changed her mind only after hearing that he was a grieved man who had himself wanted to commit the crime in revenge for what he perceived as Cyndi’s role in his wife’s death. She went out to speak with Cyndi’s mother who told her that Cyndi had been missing for some time.
Caley also testified that Jeff was able to take a search team to the spot where the bodies were dumped. The dismembered remains of both people were found scattered over an area of about 1000 square feet. Alligators and other water animals had scattered the remains all over the place. She also said that two divers searched for a week to recover most of the remains.
Jane asked, “What else besides human remains did you recover?”
“The only human remains we recovered were bones. But we recovered pieces of clothing worn by the victims,” said Caley.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, our divers used underwater metal detectors to search for weapons or any other items that may have relevance on this case. On the third day, they found a spent bullet from a .45 Cal Automatic.”
When Jane presented the pistol found at the clubhouse as an exhibit, McRaine immediately objected because any one of the many people who frequented the place could have placed it there. The judge ruled against him, and Jane went on to question Caley about the bullet until it clear that it was a perfect match to the pistol.
McRaine asked several more questions trying to weaken Caley’s testimony. His effort wasn’t very effective. His personal demeanor and the way he offensively pursued every witness had a negative impact on jury members. He was overweight, short man of 5 feet 4 inches. He combed his fleeting hair over the center of his pate in a futile attempt to hide his balding head. He had a high-pitched squeaky voice. He was always scratching his head, which gave his comb-over a disheveled appearance. He paced back and forth in front of the judge’s bench and the witness stand constantly when he was questioning witnesses. Most of the time, he presented a comical image. At times, Oats wondered to himself why he had let the man represent him.
It took Winfrey two days to present her evidence. She and Caley thought they had made a good case. Jeff’s testimony against Oats was solid. This, followed up with the physical evidence of blood samples taken from the bed of Oats pickup, and the bullet that matched Oats’ .45 automatic seemed to add up to a solid case against him.
Then it was the defense’s turn. McRaine called Jeff back to the stand and attempted to rebut his earlier testimony. Jeff was calm and showed no sign of telling anything but the truth. He also called several technical witnesses trying to introduce doubt on the forensic authenticity of the bullet match to Oats’ pistol.
The case was turned over to the jury after eight days of testimony. In the jury room, the jury foreman was chosen. She asked for a show of hands before any discussion of the evidence. Eleven members voted guilty. The one hold out was the person that knew Oats personally. They went on to discuss the evidence for a day. It was clear that all of the jury members were for a guilty vote, except one. Eventually, even he agreed with the guilty verdict. Although it was probably out of his fear of having his relationship to the defendant exposed.
When the jury foreman read the verdict, Oats standing beside his lawyer said, “I’ll be damn.”
The sheriff’s deputies put the handcuffs on the condemned man and led him from the courtroom. A week later, he was back before the judge for sentencing. After a few comments regarding how heinous the crime was, the judge announced a sentence of life without payroll.
Epilog
Two years later…
McRaine had appealed the sentence based on the judge’s decision to allow the bullet that matched Oats’ pistol. He presented his own technical forensic specialist who claimed the bullet might have come from a similar, but a different gun. The appellate court denied his appeal and Oats’ sentence was upheld.
Jane Wilfrey, SLED, and the FBI continued to collect evidence in the murder of the 1968 civil rights workers, the shooting and attempted murder of Bubba, and the attempted murder of Big Al by Oats. All parties agreed that to proceed with the prosecution of these incidents would not be in the best interest of the State since Oats’ received a life sentence without the possibility of payroll. The evidence on each case was archived in case the situation changed. Because there was no statute of limitation on murder, they reasoned they could prosecute the cases any time in the future if necessary.
Big Al was eventually released from the state mental hospital. His illusions were treated with medications that worked well if he took them as prescribed. All of his buddies knew when he was off the medications because he would regularly talk about his illusion of Fuzz. He and Jill finally started having a serious relationship, and she did her best to keep him on track. He continued to drink heavily using alcohol as a substitute for the prescribed drugs. The only penalty he ever received for running down the boy on Public Landing Road was a fine for DUI.
Patrick and Staci were continuing to be successful entrepreneurs and Floods Place was turning out a steady stream of profit. They continued their act on Friday night. Saturday night and Sunday afternoon always featured the popular local bands entertaining the young crowd. Beer and mixed drinks flowed constantly, and occasionally there was a fight in the place, but the clientele although rowdy, were more civilized than when Oats managed it.
Oats’ was in prison for life, but his fortune continued to grow. Patrick and Staci faithfully deposited part of the profits from Flood’s Place into Oats bank account by their original agreement. Ironically, McRaine was depleting the account faster than they could add to it. Ever since Oats had been put behind bars, McRaine spent most of his time preparin
g for appeals and preparing contingency plans should the other cases eventually be pursued. Of course, he never failed to bill Oats’ growing bank account.
In accordance with Oats instructions to Patrick, he allowed the Cobb Club members to continue to meet and raise hell at the clubhouse up the road from Flood’s Place. Members voted Skeeter in as the club president. His election was more of a joke than a serious event. It happened late one Saturday night when the clubhouse was filled almost to capacity by drunken rednecks. Big Al, who had been let out of the state hospital, said they needed a new president since Oats had unfortunately skipped town. Someone jokingly said, “Let’s make Skeeter our new president.” Someone else picked up on it, and soon it became official. In spite of his handicap, Skeeter did his best to continue club traditions, but with his cleft lip and constant lisp, serious business was nothing more than a joke. Members continued to gather at the club house when they felt like it. When the Cobb’s had a scheduled meeting, Skeeter would always get a thunderous laugh and disorderly heckling when he did his best to be serious as he called the meeting to order. “Ttsh thsion of the cobth clubth will now comth to order.”
Like Flood’s Place was the place for the younger set to gather, the clubhouse became the center of activity for the redneck bunch. Beside the Saturday night bashes, it was used for the sports fans, deer hunting groups, and local bikers. Skeeter reveled in his position as head of the Cobb Club and facilities manager for the clubhouse, which had become the unofficial community center dedicated to any redneck activity that came along.
Sheriff Wilson, never passing up an opportunity for publicity, heard of the popularity of the Lowcountry’s newest center of activity. During his reelection campaign, he made a speech from the front porch of the clubhouse to a crowd of local citizens. The old house was covered with “Vote for Sheriff Wilson” signs. The paper signs were left in place after Wilson was indeed elected. Eventually, the wind blew most of them off. But while they were in place, they made quite a contrast between the old clapboard siding and modern campaign media.
Al and Jill finally got married. The wedding was held at the clubhouse. Every biker for miles around came to the festivities. Preparation for the event took several days. It started out as a joke when someone suggested a local Geechee Church pastor named Pink Roberts conduct the wedding. His black flock knew pink for his enthusiastic sermons. When Jill heard the suggestion, she talked Al into going along with it.
As a prank on Big Al, Tee and the other Cobb Club members put out the word that the area’s black people as well as whites were invited. On the day of the wedding, the entire Lowcountry seemed to be present. A crowd of more than two hundred people gathered in front of the clubhouse to watch Pastor Pink conduct the ceremony on the front porch. The 30-minute ceremony was done with dignity unbecoming any event every held at the old house. The affair resulted in the Geechee community and the local rednecks coming together in a common bond, something that hadn’t been accomplished in the past two centuries.
Dressed fit to kill, the new couple sped down the dirt road headed for their honeymoon. Al’s 300-pound body, which was stuffed into a black tuxedo, sat atop the old Harley. Jill sat on the back with her white floor length wedding dress trailing behind. As they sped away, she threw the brides bouquet into the air. It was caught by Shirley, one of the over 50 ugly women who used to be a regular at Flood’s Place. Someone who knew her yelled, “Hope springs eternal!”
--End--
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