Chapter 4
It was a week later when forensics delivered the report on the bones that were found in the Salketcher. The first thing Bubba did was call Caley.
“We got a bigger problem than we thought with the bones from the Salketcher. I just got the forensic reports on ‘em, Caley. As it turns out, the DNA analysis reveals the bones you found came from different people. DNA from one of the bones and the skull match perfectly. The hand and arm bones are from a totally different person. It seems like we now have two victims instead of one. The report is on its way to you by priority mail, and you can see it online also.”
“Something else is interesting. The hole in the skull’s upper portion in the back was from a bullet. The hole is dead center in the cranium towards the top as though the shooter was standing over the person kneeling on the ground. One scenario might be that the shooting could have been done execution style. The DNA analysis also is consistent with that of African Americans, although DNA from bones can never be conclusive on this issue. They also found the bullet lodged in the skull and are in the process of analyzing it now, but it appears to be from a .38 Special.”
“OK, we need to get back out there to see if we can find anything else. Right now, I think we need to make this a priority case. I would like for SLED to send us some help on this case. We don’t have the resources that this may require. I think we need to go back to the area and start asking questions. I plan to get out there right away. That’s probably where I will be for the next few days. This looks like it will be a pretty big deal and probably get some press coverage. I would feel much better if SLED could come here to give us some help on this.”
“My desk is as clear as it ever gets. I will request a clearance from here and be down there early tomorrow if possible,” Bubba said.
“That will be great. I will be over there working the locals. We can keep in touch by cell. Together, we can cover most of the residents around the swamp where the bones were found.”
“Just like old times,” said Bubba. Then they discussed several more details regarding the case, before hanging up.
As promised, Bubba arrived the next day. They both sat at the work counter in the small laboratory, at the sheriff’s facility at Warrenton. Looking intently at the pictures Caley had taken of the body parts retrieved from the swamp, Bubba said, “Exactly where were they found.”
“An airboat operator found them about a mile west of Snyder’s Crossroads and about a mile down the river. They were inside a small cove right at the edge of the waterline. I searched the area carefully looking for more evidence but found nothing. I would like to get back over there with some divers to see if we can find anything else. It isn’t practical to dive the entire swamp area, but we can thoroughly go over where the remains were located. ”
Bubba said, “Yes, I agree. The forensics department gave us a preliminary report, but they are in the process of doing a more detailed examination by coordinating with the FBI. I will see if we I get priority to get them moving. The DNA from the bones is helpful, but now they need to do a comparison to see if they can find out if it matches anyone in their data base. The skull you recovered has a full set of teeth, which will allow them to provide PCR DNA typing and marker information. When we get that information, if possible we will still need to find relatives of the deceased for comparison. I have already asked them to make a three-dimensional facial reconstruction that will give us a visual representation of the victim’s features. Based on the size and shape of this individual's skull they may be able to estimate the race and reconstruct some of the person’s other physical features. All of this will take a while. One thing I see right now is that there are lateral scars on the skull and bones. I believe that would be the result of amphibians like alligators retrieving flesh from the victim and leaving teeth marks. I suspect most of the remains have long ago been ingested by alligators, which means that if I am correct, we may never have enough of the remains to be helpful identifying their assailants. ”
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right. In the meantime, I’ll make arrangements to get divers over there.”
Until the hole in the skull had been identified as being made by a bullet, Caley had considered that the bones were from of victims of an accident. With the latest information, Bubba and Caley were proceeding as though foul play was involved. They knew that an accidental drowning almost always resulted in publicity and details being played out in the media. On the other hand, if a victim experienced foul play, the perpetrators usually did their best to cover up the death. Since no accidental drowning had been reported in the area in the past couple of years, they had to proceed as though something was amiss.
The plan was for Bubba to begin questioning residents along the swamp, while Caley accompanied the dive team. There were houses every few miles along the stretch of the river with property that backed up all the way to the river itself. About two miles on either side of the river were heavy bogs and swamp marsh. The swath of the swamp varied from four to eight miles wide and slowly gave way to the higher ground as it snaked a hundred miles inland from the ocean. There were plenty of places for the disposal of a body and plenty of wild creatures, both in and out of the water, to consume evidence of a body that might have accidentally or intentionally found its way into the water. Many people who lived near the swamp had experienced its dangers at one time or another. Most considered the place as just one huge quagmire to breed snakes, coons, skunks, polecats, and other varmints. This still left many hunters, fishermen, and others, who were intrigued with and enjoyed probing the mysteries of nature that the swamp held. As the river meandered closer to the sea, the swamp and the river provided a living for some. Those who planted and harvested rice along in the boggy bottoms did very well before 1930. Then competition from other regions such as Louisiana and overseas made it difficult to make a living on rice.
Bubba started covering the eastern side of the swamp. The first person he questioned was Jethro Ireland. Most of Jethro’s friends didn’t know his given name was Jethro; they always had called him “Jeff.” He had lived on the swamp all his life. Between him, and his brother, Woody, who died of a heart attack when he was 60 years old, they owned over 500 acres of prime farmland above the bog-line. It had been passed down from their ancestors who had originally received it in a land grant from Lord Caldwell in the 1700s. The small dirt road going to the river roughly split their property in half. Woody had a house on one side of the road, and Jeff had one on the other about 200 yards down the road. The men rarely left the farm except to go to Warrenton every few weeks for food. Both men married local women. Woody’s wife died of a massive stroke when she was in her mid-fifties. Neither Woody nor Jeff had children, so when Woody died, Jeff inherited his property. After the death of Woody, Jeff rented Woody’s house to Shorty Nester for a paltry fee. He was just happy to have someone occupy the house to protect it from vandals. This suited Shorty since his income was from a small social security check and selling vegetables at a road side stand during the season.
As Bubba walked up to Jeff’s house with a peaked roof and porch across the front, Jeff was sitting in rocking chair on the porch.
“Good morning, I am SLED Special Agent Vandi, how are you?” he said.
Jeff was a skinny man who wore brogans that were well worn from tromping in the swamp and surrounding area. As Bubba stepped onto the porch, Jeff removed a choke of snuff from a small can labeled “Red Man.” Using two fingers, he placed it between his teeth and bottom lip with the precision of a surgeon. Shorty Nester was sitting in a second chair. The two men got together just about every day. They enjoyed sitting on the porch dipping snuff and watching the dogs play and discussing politics and the weather. During the deer season, they made predictions about the number of deer that would be killed this year. Last year Jasper Guess had been arrested for illegal deer hunting at night, and this was revisited ev
ery few days. Occasionally one of them would lament about what a shame it is that shad don’t run up the Salketcher like they used to when “we were young-uns.”
Jeff replaced the round flat can into the front pocket of his bib overalls, slowly leaned back with his thumbs in the tattered straps, and took his time to enjoy the chew before answering, “Doing just fine, what brings you out to the western side of the county on this fine day?”
“We found a person’s skull over on the river, and I am trying to find out if anyone has gone missing that you know of.”
Shifting his weight on the old rocker bottom made of the hairy side of cowhide leather, he said, “Nope, can’t say as how I have! Some folks used to visit with Lizzie every now and then. Nobody else ever comes down our road, ‘cept when Shorty here comes over to see me. I know plenty people go up and down the river, ‘cuz I see ‘em when I go out fishing sometimes. Ain’t been out in a long time now though ‘cuz of the cold and windy weather. I can’t wait for good weather to get here.”
Shorty, who was about five feet tall, his lip bulging with “Red Man,” nodded his head in agreement and repeated the last few words Jeff had said. “Can’t wait for good weather!”
“When is the last time you been up river towards the north?”
“We don’t ever go up ‘at way. We have our trout lines and shad nets down river t’ward the Combahee. Not much fishing north, water’s too shallow. Last time I think we were out was a month or so ago to take up our shad nets. You not gonna tell the game warden we been using nets outta season are you?”
Shorty confirmed, “Yep, took up the shad nets!”
Doing his best to get the old timers to keep talking Bubba said, “Oh no I won’t tell the game warden. How’s the shad been running?”
“Oh, we got nuf to eat and give a few away. No need to catch mord’n at, it’d just be a waste. Gave Hatttie down yonder a bunch of ‘em. She likes to salt ‘em and dry ‘em in the sun ‘ya know. They keep all winter that way, ‘cept the salt ain’t good for ‘ya they say. Me and Shorty too old to worry ‘bout our health, so we eat ‘em anyway.”
Shorty… “Eat ‘em anyway!”
Getting nowhere fast, Bubba decided to give up for now and said, “Well if you hear of anyone missing, or run across any other information, especially if you see anything that looks like human bones when you are on the river get in touch with the sheriff.”
Jeff lifted his hand to his brow in a friendly salute and said, “Shor will now.”
Shorty…”Shor will.”
Bubba drove to the main highway and turned right at Nelson’s Quik Stop, the local convenience store. He continued south a short distance to the next dirt road and turned back in towards the swamp again. In about a half mile, he came to a rundown trailer house on the left. Hattie Cooper answered the door and invited him in. Hattie was born and reared in the Lowcountry. Her features were those of a once beautiful black woman. Bubba guessed she was in her fifties and had experienced a hard life. The powers of observation he used to solve many crimes, was working overtime. He recognized immediately that Hattie was typical of many that lived in the area; poor, proud and poverty-stricken. The skin on her hands was rough. They had been scored by several small bruises and cuts caused by what he learned as he talked with her, were the hazards of her meager trade of plucking sweet grass and coiling it with palmetto fronds and pine needles to make baskets. The few tourists who traveled the main highway near her house loved the baskets she sold to make enough money to support herself and raise her only child, Cyndi.
Bubba talked with Hattie for about thirty minutes, but in the end received no better information that he had from Jeff and Shorty. Finally, Bubba asked, “How often do you see people going by heading down to the river?”
“Ain’t seen no body come down the road in a long time.”
“I haven’t seen anyone around here at all since Daryl Crews stopped sporting ‘round with my Cyndi.”
“Well, I am sorry to hear that they broke up.”
Bubba bid Ms. Hattie so long and decided to continue to the next house to ask the same questions regarding any missing people.