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Fatal Flaw

A True Story of Malice and Murder in a Small Southern Town

Part 1: Crime and Prosecution

One


They were small-town people. They were a teacher and a handyman, a retired minister and his wife, the foreman of a crew of fruit pickers. They were the mother and father and son who operated a family business. On Christmas Eve of 1975, they went about their ordinary lives in seemingly ordinary ways.

Charlie Mays and his wife, Mattie, took a day off from running a fruit-harvesting crew in the citrus orchards of Orange County, Florida. They went shopping.

Eunice Zeigler spent much of the day at home with her parents, Perry and Virginia Edwards, who were visiting for the holidays from Moultrie, Georgia.

Eunice's husband, William T. "Tommy" Zeigler, Jr., worked that day, as he usually did, at the retail furniture store that the Zeigler family owned at 1010 South Dillard Street in the town of Winter Garden, in the west end of Orange County.

Edward Williams, who did carpentry and construction around Orange County, moved into a new apartment in Winter Garden.

Beulah Zeigler and her husband, Tom, who had founded W. T. Zeigler Furniture in 1939, worked at the store with their son, Tommy, and with an employee, Curtis Dunaway.

As they went through the day, their paths crossed and intertwined.  That is the way of small towns.  But this day was different.  These people would be bonded forever.  Their movements, their routine conversations and actions, would be intensely examined and argued.  What had seemed casual would become crucial; tragedy would elevate the mundane.  In a few hours, all of these people would be drawn into a disaster.  Four of them would be murdered.

 

 

Tommy & Eunice Zeigler (1973)

 

 

Two


Cinderella’s Castle, in the Magic Kingdom of the Disney World resort, stands nine miles due south of the scene of the crime, across a stretch of scrub and citrus groves.  In geographic terms it is not a great distance—-the drive back to the main gate of the resort is nearly as long—but Disney’s charm and prosperity did not bridge the gap.  Winter Garden’s population, about six thousand, had hardly changed since the end of World War II.  While the rest of Orange County rode a sustained boom, the several small communities at the west side of the county remained rural, agrarian, and stagnant.

The west side had always seemed a little different.  It even had its own proper-name designation: to the Orlando Sentinel Star and to almost everyone else, it was West Orange, a scruffy place apart.

“Redneck City, Crackerville,” is how one native of the county described West Orange to me in 1991, with a sort of smirk; then he added: “But don’t use my name—those people would kill me.”

This was not the East Coast Florida of palm trees and sweeping beaches, nor the sultry, laid-back Florida of the Gulf Coast.  Winter Garden was almost a generic Southern town, with a one-crop economy that depended on cheap labor and good weather.  Its public schools mixed the races by decree, but otherwise segregation was the rule, by practice if not by law.  Most of Winter Garden’s blacks—perhaps a third to half of its residents—lived in near squalor in a section of town known as the Quarters, the boundaries of which were unmarked and without legal foundation, but unfailingly observed.  In this way, too, Winter Garden and the rest of West Orange were typically Southern, closer in spirit to Selma than to Miami.

In the picking season, thousands of migrant workers, mostly black, filled the labor camps that were tucked away in groves surrounding the town.  The most notorious of the camps was one known as Harlem Heights.  At the outskirts of town, too, was an empty field known as the Stomping Grounds, where local Ku Klux Klansmen flogged their victims.

Stetson Kennedy, a Floridian who researched the Klan for more than forty years, has written that several klaverns thrived in West Orange at least into 1960.  How long they survived after that is a matter of debate.  In almost every other important way, though, the Winter Garden of ‘75 was the Winter Garden of ‘55.

In the meantime, much of Orange County was being transformed into the world’s most popular playground.  Twelve miles to the east, Orlando was a boomtown, and the Sentinel Star was one of its giddiest boosters.  The afternoon of the murders, the top story on page one was the rush of tourists that forced Disney World to close its gates for only the second time in its three years of existence.

 

West Orange, though, was left out of the action.  Most of the wild growth was in Orlando and south, along Interstate 4, where Disney World had its main entrance.  Florida’s Sunshine Parkway, built to funnel visitors into central Florida and the East Coast beaches, runs just below Winter Garden; almost anyone who drives to Disney World from the Midwest or the Deep South passes within half a mile of the furniture store.

But almost nobody stops in Winter Garden.  The wall around the Magic Kingdom effectively seals West Orange from the magic and the money.  On Christmas Eve of 1975, as today, Winter Garden, Florida, was an ordinary small town, maybe tougher than most, where ordinary people lived, and died.

*

Zeigler Furniture was one of the first stops for Charlie and Mattie Mays on Christmas Eve.  They had traded there since they were married, fifteen years before.  They were black, and in 1960 Zeigler Furniture was one of the few white-owned businesses in West Orange that routinely offered credit to black customers.

Today Mattie wanted new linoleum for the small rented house where she and her husband lived with their four young sons, in the rural community of Oakland, which adjoins Winter Garden.  They parked their blue Ford van in the lot out front and went into the store, along with Brian Nedd, a sixteen-year-old fruit picker who worked with their crew.

Tommy Zeigler waited on them that morning.  He brought them to the back of the showroom, where rolls of linoleum hung on racks that were bolted to the rear wall.  Mattie Mays chose the patterns for three rooms.

What happened then would become a matter of controversy, as did much else that involved Tommy Zeigler over the coming hours, days, and months.  According to the depositions of Brian Nedd and Mrs. Mays, Zeigler brought Charlie to the storage area behind the showroom.  There Zeigler showed him a used console color TV, which the store was selling on consignment.

Brian Nedd testified that he overheard the conversation.  He said that Tommy Zeigler offered to sell Charlie Mays the television on credit, at a price of $128.  Mattie Mays supported Nedd’s account, testifying that Charlie told her that it would be a surprise gift for the family.  Charlie was supposed to pick up the TV at 7:30 that evening, after the store was closed.

But she learned all that later from Charlie, she said.  That morning she was unaware of the arrangement; she only knew that when Tommy Zeigler and her husband came back from the storeroom, Zeigler told her:  “You will have the surprise of your life.”

Tommy Zeigler wrote out a sales contract, taking $50 in cash and adding the balance to the Mays account, which was already in arrears.  The linoleum would have to be cut, and Zeigler said it would be ready in about an hour.

*

Tommy Zeigler was busy that day.  Besides waiting on customers at the store, he made a round of deliveries in the morning and another in the afternoon.

This was not unusual.  Tommy Zeigler had been working hard at his parents’ business since he was a teenager, when he pedaled a bicycle through the neighborhoods of West Orange, making collections on store accounts.

To those who knew him casually, including most of the five thousand people in Winter Garden, Tommy Zeigler was a polite and earnest young man who was perhaps too sure of himself.  He was twenty-nine years old, the only child of Beulah and W. T. “Tom” Zeigler, Sr.  Young  Tommy was a conservative Republican and a behind-the-scenes influence in local politics.  Two years before, he had led a successful drive to unseat a longtime town mayor.  Zeigler was a tall and thin (six feet one, about 155 pounds) and severely astigmatic.  He wore thick eyeglasses and kept his hair in an unfashionable brush cut.  He was an active member of the First Baptist Church, the town’s largest.  He detested rock music.  He drove pickup trucks and Oldsmobiles.

He was always in a hurry.  Tommy and Eunice had married on his twenty-first birthday.  He had urged his parents to move the store from its original location in downtown Winter Garden.  He had chosen this new site away from the center of town, about half a block north of State Route 50, the main thoroughfare from the city of Orlando, about twelve miles away.  Tommy had overseen the building’s construction and the move of the business in 1973.  At his urging, the family had bought several apartment buildings during the last few years.  He managed the properties, besides working full-time at the store.

He kept at least five pistols in the store and in his truck, and carried another when he made his cash collections of rent and furniture payments.  At the time, a gang of armed robbers known as the Ski Mask Bandits was active in Central Florida, robbing retail business and often shooting clerks.  Zeigler would testify that his collections totaled thousands of dollars in cash, and that the store kept large sums on hand; the pistols were for protection.

The family’s net worth was over $1 million, and growing.  But it was a quiet fortune.  Tommy and Eunice, and Beulah and Tom, lived in unpretentious ranch-style homes on adjoining lots at Temple Grove Drive, about a mile and a half from the store.  Their clothes, their automobiles, their furnishings tended to be simple and solid.

 

Most of all, they worked as if they still needed the money.  Eunice taught school through much of her marriage.  Tommy immersed himself in the businesses.  Beulah ran the store every day, usually from opening to closing.  Tom senior had worked at the furniture store every day, often at the tasks of a minimum-wage laborer, until he suffered a stroke in July 1975.  The Zeiglers did not avoid drudgery.

This morning Tommy Zeigler himself cut Mattie Mays’s linoleum.  He unwound it from the rolls on the wall, using a heavy metal crank that was kept in a box on the back wall.  He sized the pieces and rolled them again, then placed them in the rear storage area.

Around midday of Christmas Eve, Edward Williams stopped at the store to see Tommy Zeigler.

Williams had known the family for nearly twenty years, as a customer and a part-time employee.  He had helped to remodel the Zeiglers’ apartments and had worked on the construction crew that had built the Dillard Street store.  In the past week, he had worked around Tommy and Eunice’s house and replaced a broken window in one of the apartment complexes.

Earlier in the week, Zeigler had asked Williams to help deliver several large gifts on Christmas Eve: a gas grill that he and Eunice had bought for Tom Zeigler, a La-Z-Boy recliner for Perry and Virginia Edwards, and a big potted plant that Winter Garden’s chief of police, Don Ficke, had bought for his wife.

This morning Tommy Zeigler was cutting linoleum when Williams came into the store.  Williams gave Zeigler the key to the apartment he had repaired.

Now (as William’s later testified) Zeigler reminded him that he needed help in the evening. According to Williams, Zeigler told him to be at 75 Temple Grove at 7:30, and they would drive to the store together.

Zeigler had done Williams many favors.  In the past two days alone, he had loaned Williams $80 for a deposit on his new apartment and had called the local power company so that Williams—who still had a disputed bill from a previous address—could have electricity when he moved in.

Edward Williams, in turn, had done many favors for Tommy Zeigler.

“He’d say, Edward, I want you to do something for me,” Williams testified later.  “If I could get there, I do it.  Edward, I want this thing done here.  I say, okay, I try to make it possibly.  I do that because the whole time I know Tommy, if I asked Tommy to do me a favor, he helped me.”

Once again, Williams did not refuse Tommy Zeigler.

He would be there, he said: 7:30.

 

Zeigler Wedding 1967

 

*

One of Eunice’s errands this day was to bring a Persian cat named Silver to a veterinarian, for treatment of a slight abscess.  Eunice and Tommy owned six Persians, which they bred and exhibited.  Tommy and Edward Williams had built a “cat room” in one bay of Tommy’s two-car garage.

The cats also had the run of the house.  When Eunice played the piano in the front room they would curl up on the furniture to listen to the music.  Eunice and Tommy doted on the animals.  Often the couple would leave a television playing during the day to entertain them.

After eight years of marriage, the couple were still childless.  Eunice was under treatment by a fertility specialist in Orlando.  She charted their intercourse on neat graphs that she kept beside their bed.  The graphs would show that they had regular relations until about two weeks before Christmas, after which the notations ceased.

 Eunice Edwards and Tommy Zeigler had met when she was a teacher at an elementary school in Winter Garden.  He was coaching a youth football team.  He barged into her office, demanding that she release one of his star players, whom she had kept after class.  She adamantly refused.

From that day, he says, he never dated another.  They were married less than a year later, at the red-brick First Baptist Church, which dominates the town center from a rise of ground at the corner of Dillard and Plant streets.

In a case that became a thicket of uncertainty and disagreement, everyone agrees about Eunice.  Eunice was special.

She is remembered as kind, soft-spoken, genteel.  She sang, played the piano beautifully, and was an organist at First Baptist.  She is said to have detested gossip.  When Winter Garden’s public schools were forced to integrate, she volunteered to teach in a poor black neighborhood.  After Tommy’s father suffered a stroke in July 1975, Eunice often drove him to physical therapy.  She would watch the exercises, then patiently work with him for hours at home.

“A lovely lady,” her mother-in-law said of Eunice, years later.  “A calm, quiet, refined lady.”

“She never met anyone who didn’t like her,” Tommy Zeigler told an interviewer.  “And she always believed that there was some good in everybody.”

“The nicest person anybody could be around,” Edward Williams testified.

On Christmas Eve of 1975, Eunice Zeigler brought the Persian back from the vet and later baked a cake with her mother, and she waited for her husband to come home.

 

*

After they left Zeigler Furniture for the first time, Charlie and Mattie Mays and Brian Nedd drove across Dillard Street to the Tri-City shopping center at the intersection of Route 50.  They visited two stores, looking for Christmas gifts, and stopped to buy groceries at a Winn-Dixie supermarket.

From the supermarket they drove to a Zayre’s department store near Orlando.  At Zayre’s they bought a ten-speed bike, and after a quick meal they returned to the furniture store for the linoleum.

Tommy Zeigler told them to go around to the back.  Charlie Mays drove the blue van down a driveway that ran along the north side of the building, past a large electrical breaker box.

The store’s front display windows faced east, toward Dillard Street.  Directly behind the building was a paved area several times larger than the small lot out front.  This asphalt had been added to comply with Winter Garden’s zoning regulations.  But it was rarely used by the public.  It was surrounded by a six-foot chain-link fence that secured not only the parking lot but also the rear of the store.

That fence separated the paved compound from the rear of the Winter Garden Inn Motel, which was adjacent to the south side of the Zeigler property.

The store’s rear compound was accessible only by a single swinging gate at the end of the driveway.  The gate was open now. Charlie Mays drove through, and when he had parked, he and Tommy Zeigler and Brian Nedd loaded the three rolls of linoleum into the van.

Mattie Mays asked Zeigler about a cot she had ordered a couple of weeks before.  Zeigler said that he might be able to deliver it later in the day.

Then according to Brian Nedd, Zeigler mentioned the console television.  He reminded Charlie that he should pick up the set between 7:00 and 7:30 that evening.

Charlie said that he would be there.

*

Curtis Dunaway was having car trouble that day.  His 1972 Oldsmobile 98—a two-toned car with a beige roof and a brown body—was making strange noises.  He planned to take it in for repairs on the 26th, but he was going to drive into Orlando on Christmas Day, and he worried that the car wouldn’t hold up for the trip. 

Dunaway had worked for Zeigler Furniture for more than four years.  Tommy and Beulah managed the business; otherwise Curtis Dunaway did every job at the store.  He sold and cleaned and swept, he clerked behind the counter, helped Tommy with deliveries.

Dunaway was a quiet, diffident man in his forties, a lifelong bachelor who lived with his mother in a modest house less than a mile from the store.  He knew nothing about automobiles.  Dunaway asked Tommy to drive the Olds, to diagnose the problem.  Zeigler knew cars, and until October he had owned a ’68 Oldsmobile that was similar to Dunaway’s.

Dunaway and Zeigler were friendly during working hours, but seldom socialized away from the store.  Outside his family, Zeigler had seemingly hundreds of acquaintances, and a few very close friends with whom he felt completely comfortable. Most of those were married men with positions of influence in West Orange.  Dunaway did not belong to that tight circle. 

Around lunchtime, Zeigler tried the car.  Afterward, as he had done several times before, he suggested that they switch cars so that Dunaway wouldn’t risk a breakdown on the highway.  Zeigler’s new automobile was a white ’75 Olds Toronado.  This was the car that Eunice usually drove, and she used it that day to take the sick cat, Silver, to the vet.  Tommy and Eunice had no travel plans for Christmas Day—they lived next door to Tom and Beulah.  If Tommy did need transportation he could use Dunaway’s car, or the green Ford sedan belonging to

Perry and Virginia Edwards, or the store pickup truck, which he drove most of the time anyway. 

It put Dunaway’s mind at ease.

Dunaway finished lunch early and decided to take a short nap in the storeroom at the rear of the building.  He lay down on a furniture pad and was dozing when Charlie Mays pulled up to load his linoleum.  He recognized the sound of Mays’s voice, but the words were indistinct.  Later he was unable to account any of the conversation.

Around four in the afternoon, a couple of hours before closing, Curtis Dunaway went with Zeigler on their second delivery trip of the day.

Near the end of the trip, Zeigler mentioned to Dunaway that he would be returning to the store that evening to pick up the gas grill for his father, the Edwardses’ recliner, and Don Ficke’s potted plant.  Dunaway volunteered to help him, but Zeigler said he didn’t want to interrupt Dunaway’s family gathering; he would get Edward Williams to help him, he said.

That afternoon delivery was a large one.  They separated it into two shipments, and when they dropped off the last piece their working day was almost ended.  In four years, Curtis Dunaway and Tommy Zeigler had ridden through West County hundreds of times on such errands.

This would be the last.

*

When they returned home in the afternoon, Charlie and Mattie Mays laid down their new linoleum with the help of Brian Nedd.  Around this time, Mrs. Mays testified, Charlie told her about the color TV.  He said that the down payment they had made that morning covered both the linoleum and the television.  Tommy Zeigler was giving them a bargain price, $128 for a beautiful console set.  They rearranged the living-room furniture to make a space for the console.

It was going to be a good Christmas.  It got even better that afternoon, when someone from the First Presbyterian Church in Oakland dropped off a basket of food and about $40 that had been collected from the congregation.  The church’s pastor, Herman “Mickey” Fisher, had asked Oakland’s police chief, Robert Thompson, to give it to a needy and deserving family.  Thompson had chosen Charlie and Mattie Mays and their sons.

Thompson liked Charlie Mays.  Charlie did not smoke or drink or cuss.  He coached the local softball teams, he worked hard, and his children were well-behaved.  You did not see the Mays boys on the streets after dark.

Sometime that afternoon, Tommy Zeigler arrived at the Mays home, making his late round of deliveries.  He had brought the bed that Mattie Mays wanted.  According to Mrs. Mays, Zeigler mentioned the TV again, and again her husband

agreed to meet him at the store later that evening.  Charlie Mays and Tommy Zeigler would meet one more time.

*

The afternoon wound down, dusk began to fall.

Sunset was at 5:35 p.m., full darkness about half an hour later.  The moon would not rise until after midnight.  The skies were clear.  The night would be cool, about forty degrees. 

Winter Garden was about to be shattered.

Nearly everyone had plans.  Edward Williams later testified that he intended to spend the evening with friends in Orlando.  Curtis Dunaway’s two brothers and their families would be visiting him and his mother.  Beulah Zeigler was going to attend the 7:30 candlelight service at First Baptist, then prepare food at home.  The two police chiefs, Don Ficke and Robert Thompson, had been invited to attend an open-house party at the home of Ted and Mary Van Deventer, in Winter Garden.  Ted Van Deventer was a local attorney and the municipal judge for the nearby communities of Oakland, Ocoee, and Windermere.

One of Van Deventer’s friends and clients was Tommy Zeigler.  Tommy and Eunice were expected at the party.

First, however, Eunice and her parents, Perry and Virginia Edwards, planned to attend the 7:30 service at First Baptist.  On the way to the church they were going to stop by the furniture store and pick out the La-Z-Boy that they would be bringing home to Moultrie. 

A little after six, Beulah Zeigler decided to close the store.  Her husband had gone home earlier in the afternoon.  Curtis Dunaway noted the time on the large electrical clock that hung on the wall beside the service counter.  Closing took about ten minutes.  Dunaway put the day’s cash receipts into an envelope, which he locked inside a combination safe.

Usually four overhead lights were kept burning at night, showcasing the merchandise in the front windows.  But tonight Tommy Zeigler told Dunaway to turn off those lights.  There would still be some illumination in the store, including two lamps on the floor and one near the service counter.

Curtis and Beulah went out the front door and locked it.  Their cars were parked in the front lot.  Tommy Zeigler went out the back of the building, where his gold-colored pickup truck was parked.

Beulah Zeigler stopped for groceries at a Thriftway Store across the street from the Baptist church.  By the time she was finished shopping, she knew that she wouldn’t have time to go home and change clothes.  She picked up a friend and went directly to the church.

Curtis Dunaway followed her north on Dillard, as far as the Thriftway.  He continued on to Temple Grove Drive, pulled into Tommy Zeigler’s driveway, and stopped along the right side of the drive.

Tommy drove up almost immediately and parked the pickup truck along the left side of the driveway, in front of the cat room in the garage. He went into the garage and backed out the new white Toronado.

Zeigler helped Dunaway transfer some gifts and boxes of baked goods from the ’72 Olds to the Toronado.  Zeigler invited Dunaway into the house.  Eunice was there, with her mother, Virginia, and their cake was fresh out of the oven.  Eunice cut a slice for Dunaway, and they chatted while Zeigler went into the family room to check the cat, Silver.

Dunaway stayed at the Zeiglers’ house for about fifteen or twenty minutes.  He left shortly before 7:00, when he went home in the Toronado, driving carefully.  It was a beautiful new car, and he didn’t have to worry that it would leave him walking beside the highway on Christmas Day.

*

Edward Williams, too, had car trouble on Christmas Eve.  His Camaro sports coupe was already being repaired at a Texaco station on Route50 east of Winter Garden, and his pickup truck had a balky carburetor: the engine wouldn’t restart when it was warm.

 Williams later testified that he spent several hours nailing up paneling in the home of Boyd Holt, a Winter Garden barber.  Around four in the afternoon, he drove to Holt’s shop, and Holt gave him $20.  Williams stopped at the Thriftway, bought some soap, and went to his new apartment.  He hadn’t yet spent a night in the place.  He had actually rented the apartment the day before, on Tuesday the 23rd, but the carpets were still damp from being cleaned.

Williams testified that he saw nobody and spoke to nobody while he was at the apartment in the late afternoon and evening of the 24th.  He showered and—he swore—put on a black cardigan sweater and a pair of green pants and new dress boots, and then went out to meet Tommy Zeigler.

*

A few people got glimmerings of the tragedy as it erupted.

At about 7:20, a woman named Barbara Spencer heard three or four loud explosions, which she believed to be firecrackers.  She was sitting by a back window in her parents’ house, which was located about a block west of Dillard Street, near Route 50.  She was watching the clock, waiting for her brother, whom she had been expecting to meet her at 7:00.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later she heard another series of reports, more than the first time, perhaps six or seven explosions.  It was the same firecracker sound coming from the same direction.

The explosions were loud and distinct, and she was certain of the direction.  They were from the east, across an open area.  On the other side of that clearing, a couple of hundred yards distant, was the back of W. T. Zeigler Furniture.

At about 7:30, Kenneth and Linda Roach were driving south on Dillard, approaching Route 50.  As they drove past the furniture store they heard a single loud pop, like a firecracker.  It seemed to come from the direction of the store. 

Linda Roach turned to ask her husband whether they had blown a tire—the sound was that loud and immediate.

A few seconds after the first report, they heard a series of explosions, ten or more shots; to Ken Roach it sounded like a string of firecrackers going off all at once.

They kept on driving.

Between 7:30 and 8:30 that evening, twenty-four-year-old Barbara Woodard was leaving the Tri-City shopping center.  Most of the stores in the mall were still open, and she had just finished some late shopping with a friend  She was leaving the mall by the west entrance, which was on Dillard Street, beside a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant, directly across the road from Zeigler Furniture.   

She looked over at the store and saw that it was completely dark. She thought that was odd.  She noticed two cars parked in the narrow front lot of the store.  One of the cars was green.  Her identification of the second car was vague.  Originally she told the police that it was dark-colored.  At the trial she retracted that.

She also saw a man: a tall, thin white man with close-cut hair.  He wore a dark blue or black jacket and was standing behind the glass doors of the store, as if he had just entered or was about to walk out.  Barbara Woodard knew the owners of the furniture store.  Though she couldn’t see him well enough to be sure, Barbara Woodard believed that the man behind the glass doors was Tommy Zeigler.

Sometime between 7:00 and 8:30—accounts differ—Samuel Harrison, two of his teenage children, and two of their friends were shopping at the TG&Y variety store in the Tri-City mall when they met a fruit picker named Felton Thomas, whom they knew from Oakland and the citrus groves.  Thomas was one of the hundreds of itinerant pickers who returned to Orange County every year for the harvest.

Thomas asked if they planned to return to Oakland.  Samuel Harrison said yes, and Thomas asked him for a ride.

Thomas sat in the backseat and said little.  But as they got into Oakland, Thomas mentioned that he had just left Charlie Mays.   Something strange had happened to them, Thomas said.  Something was wrong at Zeigler Furniture.

*

Edward Williams later told police that the garage door was open and the light was on when he pulled into the driveway at Tommy Zeigler’s house.  There were no cars.  The only vehicle in the drive was Tommy’s pickup truck.

Williams pulled in and blew his horn.  When nobody came out, Williams went into the garage to knock on the door that led from the garage into the house.  There, stuck in the crack of the door, was a note in Zeigler’s handwriting.  It read: “Edward Wait I’ll be right back” and was signed “Z.”

Williams noted the time: 7:28.

He got in his truck.  He pulled in behind the pickup, on the left side of the driveway, to make room for the car when Zeigler drove in.

He sat and he waited.

*

Beulah Zeigler returned home alone from the candlelight service.  Eunice and her parents had not come to church after all.

Her maid, Mary, was gone by the time Mrs. Zeigler arrived home.  Her husband, who was still showing the effects of his stroke the previous summer, was getting ready for bed.

Beulah Zeigler had work to do, preparing food for the Christmas meal.  She did not go next door to her son’s house.  She did not hear or see anything unusual in the driveway.  She was unaware.

*

Around 7:00, Don and Rita Ficke opened presents in their home with their children and Rita’s parents, who were visiting from Jacksonville. 

Earlier in the day, Eunice Zeigler and Rita had arranged for the two couples to drive together to the Van Deventer party.  Don and Rita had moved to Winter Garden in late 1973 when Don became the town police chief, and the two men and their wives had become close.

Ficke understood that the party was to start at 7:00.  He wasn’t surprised that the Zeiglers hadn’t shown up on time, however.  Tommy and Eunice were inevitably late for any social occasion.  Ficke wasn’t especially anxious to attend the party: he had had disagreements with Judge Van Deventer.  Ficke was not good friends with anyone who was going to be there except Tommy Zeigler.

A few minutes after 8:00, Don and Rita got in his unmarked police car and decided to find Tommy and Eunice.  Ficke was not armed.

All of the Winter Garden locations that figure in the events of that night are found within a mile of the center  of town.  The longest reach is from the furniture store to the Zeiglers’ home on Temple Grove Drive, a drive of five to ten minutes.  So between 8:05 and approximately 8:45, the Fickes were able to drive past the Van Deventer house at least three different times, looking for the Zeiglers’ car.  They passed the Baptist church when the congregation was leaving after the end of the candlelight service.  And three times they drove to the Zeiglers’ house at 75 Temple Grove.

At one point they drove up Dillard Street to the furniture store.  Rita Ficke pointed out the green Ford sedan of Perry and Virginia Edwards.  It was parked out front, alone in the small lot between the store and the street.  The Fickes saw nobody.  The store was completely dark. Across the street, Don Ficke noticed a Winter Garden police car and another from the town of Oakland; they were parked at the Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant in the Tri-City shopping center.

Finally the Fickes gave up on finding Tommy and Eunice.  Around 8:45, they went alone to the Van Deventer home.

*

The Oakland chief, Robert Thompson, drove one of the two police cars that Don Ficke saw at the Kentucky Fried Chicken.  The other belonged to Jimmy Yawn, a Winter Garden patrolman.  Thompson had given his two officers the night off.  He used his radio to log out of service at 8:30, and he met Yawn at the restaurant.

Thompson was an interesting figure.  He was forty-two years old and had more than fifteen years of important experience in law enforcement with the Florida Highway Patrol and the U.S. Border Patrol.  He had been in charge of the security force of Florida governor Claude Kirk.  He had attended nearly two dozen special police courses or seminars.  After an unsuccessful attempt at running a seafood business, he had become the police chief of Oakland in 1973.  At the time he took over, the town’s patrolmen kept no records or files and carried no guns.  For the town to have filled so modest a position with someone of Thompson’s background was remarkable. 

At 8:50, Thompson logged in again, leaving the restaurant.  As he drove onto Dillard Street he saw that the furniture store was dark.  He noted the green Ford sedan with Georgia plates parked out front.

By his account, Thompson went back to Oakland to check out the local beer hall, some vacant houses, and the traffic in general. The town was quiet, and he decided to stop in at the Van Deventer party.

At 9:18 he checked out of service again, as he reached the Van Deventer home.  The house had a large picture window that looked out on the street.  As Thompson parked the patrol car, he could see Ted Van Deventer through the

window, getting up out of a chair and walking to the back of the house.  A few seconds later, Don Ficke followed Van Deventer to the back.

Thompson got out of the car and went up the walk.  He was at the front door when Don Ficke came out, in a big hurry.

There was trouble, Ficke told Thompson.  Trouble at Zeigler Furniture.

*

The Presbyterian minister Mickey Fisher was one of the guests at the Van Deventer home.  He was at the buffet table when the phone rang and had a view of the front door when Thompson walked in.  He could also hear Ted Van Deventer on the phone in the dining room.

“Tommy, what’s the matter?”  Van Deventer said.

On the other end of the line was Tommy Zeigler.  Six months later—in a hearsay testimony to which the defense did not object—Van Deventer recalled that Zeigler said, “Ted, I’m hurt,” and asked to speak to Don Ficke.

Van Deventer was a good friend of Zeigler’s and had known him to play practical jokes.

“Are you kidding me?”  Van Deventer said.

“No, hurry,”  Zeigler said, and Van Deventer called for Ficke.

Ficke took the receiver.

“Don, I’ve been shot,”  Zeigler said.

Ficke asked him what had happened, and Zeigler repeated that he had been shot.

“Please hurry,”  Zeigler said.

Ficke ran into Robert Thompson and told him what he knew.  In separate cars they rushed to the store with their emergency lights flashing.

The trip took less than a minute.  On the way, Thompson radioed to the Winter Garden dispatcher that he was en route to the store on Ficke’s authority, and that they should send other units.  The dispatcher logged the call at 9:21.

Two other officers and their cruisers were within a quarter mile of the scene.  Cindy Blalock was in the Tri-City parking lot, escorting TG&Y’s manager as he carried out a bag of cash.  Jimmy Yawn, who had been with Thompson less than an hour before, was at the Winter Garden Inn; Yawn cut through a service station on the corner of Route 50 and Dillard and drove up to the store.

Thompson, Ficke, and Yawn arrived almost simultaneously.  Thompson and Ficke pulled up out  front, so Yawn continued around toward the back, using the driveway along the north side of the building.

Thompson positioned his cruiser so that his headlights and spotlight illuminated the south side of the building, down to where the high fence joined the rear of the building.

He left his car.  The front door of the store rattled.  Thompson walked toward the door and pointed his flashlight beam through the glass.

He saw Tommy Zeigler trying to unlock the front door from inside.  Blood was splattered  on Zeigler’s face.  There was blood on his shirt, especially thick around his left underarm.  He was calling, “Bobby, Bobby.”

Thompson ran for the front door and reached it just as Zeigler got it unlocked.  Thompson pulled the door open.

“I’ve been shot,”  Zeigler said.

In the corner of his eye Thompson could see Ficke standing at his left.  He handed the flashlight to Ficke and grabbed the wounded man, who stumbled out of the store.

Furniture Store (1992)

 

Zeigler House (1992)

 

 

Three

At the front of the store, Robert Thompson put Zeigler over his shoulder, carried him to the Oakland patrol car, and laid him in the backseat.  Zeigler was acquainted with most of the local cops in West Orange and often encountered Thompson while delivering furniture and making store collections in Oakland.  But the two men were not especially friendly.

Thompson took a moment to look for wounds.  He saw that Zeigler had been shot through the lower right abdomen.  The entrance was at the front; Thompson saw a hole about the size of a quarter where the bullet had entered Zeigler's rust-colored shirt.  The edges of the hole were blackened, and the blood around the wound was dry and dark.  An exit hole, at Zeigler's back, showed no swelling or signs of fresh bleeding.  From the blood around Zeigler's face, Thompson guessed that there might be a head wound, but he checked quickly and found none.

The local hospital was West Orange Memorial, about a mile up Dillard Street.  Thompson told Ficke that he was taking Zeigler, and he accelerated north up Dillard.

"I'm dying," Zeigler said from the backseat as Thompson drove.

"No you're not, you're going to be all right," Thompson told him, and he radioed to the Winter Garden dispatcher that he was en route with a gunshot victim.

They reached the hospital at 9:23: three minutes had elapsed since Thompson sped away from the Van Deventer house.

Thompson got Zeigler to sit up.  He took off Zeigler's gold-rimmed glasses and stuck them into one of the epaulets of his uniform shirt.  He went in and got a gurney.  With the help of a nurse's aide, Thompson lifted Zeigler onto the gurney and pushed him into the examining room.

Thompson returned to his car and got his notebook.  He came back and leaned close to Zeigler.

"Who shot you?" Thompson asked.

According to Thompson's testimony, Zeigler answered, "Charlie Mays."

"Why?" Thompson said.

Zeigler didn't answer.

"Was he trying to rob you?" Thompson said.

"I think so," Zeigler answered.

"Where is Charlie now?"

"Back at the store."

"Did you shoot Charlie?" Thompson asked.

"Yes," Zeigler said.

"With what?"

"My gun," Zeigler said.

Then Zeigler began to babble.  He talked about his parents' Christmas presents.  He kept repeating, "Don's plant at the store." It made no sense to Thompson, and he asked no more questions.

*

After Thompson left with Zeigler, Don Ficke waited outside the store.  He had no gun, and he wasn't going to enter the dark building without one.  He asked Jimmy Yawn for a shotgun, but Yawn didn't have one in his patrol car.  Cindy Blalock drove up, and Ficke asked her for a shotgun.  She didn't have one, either.  So Ficke sent Yawn to get weapons from their headquarters.  Blalock went around to the back, outside the high fence--she must have passed May's van--to the southwest corner of the back lot, where she could watch the rear of the building.  Out front, Ficke called for backup from the Orange County sheriff's office, and he waited.

Ted Van Deventer drove up with the Presbyterian minister, Mickey Fisher; they had followed Thompson and Ficke.  Ficke asked them to go to Zeigler's house to notify Eunice that her husband had been shot; they left immediately.  A former Winter Garden patrolman named Phil Cross drove up with a friend, Richard Sims.  They had heard the call on a police scanner.  Ficke deputized them both.

After about six minutes, Yawn returned with shotguns, and Ficke passed them out to Sims and Cross.  At about that time, Thompson came back from the hospital with the news that Charlie Mays might be wounded in the store.

Violence was not uncommon in West Orange, especially during harvest season, when the migrant camps were full.  Yawn, Thompson, and Ficke all had known tense situations and had seen the effects of shootings, stabbings, and assaults.  During the past year Ficke had even been involved in a hostage standoff, when a man in an apartment threatened to kill his wife; the apartment belonged to Tommy Zeigler, and Zeigler, who knew the man, had come to the scene and talked him out.

But this was something else:  a large dark store, a wounded robber who was already supposed to have shot one person.  And this on what was supposed to be the quietest night of the year.

Ficke may have felt the tension.  Yawn reported later that the chief was unable to load his own shotgun.  He fumbled with the shells, dropped them to the ground.  Yawn loaded the weapon and gave it to Ficke.

"Let me go in first," Thompson said.  "I know Mays, and he knows me."

Thompson and Yawn went in together, with Phil Cross behind Thompson and to his left.  Ficke and Sims followed.

The store was dark and silent; the only sound was their own movement, as the five men made their way into the showroom, stepping around chairs and sofas and tables.

Yawn called Mays's name and got no response.  Thompson veered off to the right, toward the front counter and the partitioned store offices.

The show room was 82 feet wide and 106 feet deep.  About the first three-quarters of the floor area was covered with a dark orange carpet.  But at the rear, past the counter and offices, the floor was white terrazzo.  Yawn was approaching the end of the carpeted section when he spotted a body face down near the back wall, in a pool of blood on the terrazzo.  He had never seen so much blood from a body.

Yawn assumed that it was Charlie Mays, but some furniture blocked his view.  When Yawn got closer he saw that it was a white man.

Yawn bent and checked his pulse at the neck.  The man was dead.  Yawn searched the rear pockets of the man's pants, looking for identification, but the pockets were empty.

Thompson, too, was calling for Mays, speaking into the darkness: "Charlie, it's Bobby Thompson.  Let us know where you are.  Give yourself up, Charlie."  Thompson had approached the customer service area, about midway along the north side of the showroom.  He saw that the telephone on the counter was covered in blood.  The receiver was off the hook and hung down the front of the counter.

Thompson went behind the counter, to the cash register.  To his right, as he faced west, was an office door on which the jamb was broken.  It seemed to have been forced.  Thompson used the tip of one finger to push that door open.  Inside were two desks and a sofa.  Everything appeared to be in order.

Directly in front of him, as he faced west, was a second door.  It led to a small employee kitchen and lounge.  Thompson swung that door open and found a white woman on the floor.  She was motionless, face up and with her eyes open, in a pool of blood.

Thompson bent close to her, looking for some sign of life.  She was quite pretty, and seemed very young--maybe a teenager, he thought.  She was dead.

Thompson went back around the counter the way he entered, and he started to the rear of the showroom.  At about that moment, the beam of Yawn's flashlight fell across the body of a black man sprawled on the terrazzo, near the linoleum racks.

"That's him," Thompson said.

It was Charlie Mays.  Thompson stooped near his head, checking his pulse.  The man whom Thompson had recommended for Christmas charity was obviously dead.  His face was disfigured by a savage beating.  Gouts and sprays

of blood radiated from his skull across the terrazzo, a ghastly corona.  The store's black metal linoleum crank lay across Mays's right arm.

Yawn and Thompson--perhaps some of the others--had already flipped several wall switches, but the power was off. Yawn and Thompson began to look for a master switch.  Three or four times Yawn passed near the body of Charlie Mays. He noticed two revolvers on the floor within a few feet of Mays's head, two more pistols near Mays's feet.  A fifth pistol lay near the head of the white man, in front of a pair of metal doors in the back wall of the showroom.

Yawn went through these doors, followed by Thompson.  They found themselves in the rear storage area.  The big overhead doors at the loading dock were closed and locked.  But at the back, a second swinging door was unlocked.  Thompson and Yawn opened it and looked out into the fenced back parking area.  They saw a pickup truck, no driver, parked at the loading dock.

They were in the store for several minutes.  During that time Yawn went into the kitchen to look at the young woman.  At first glance he thought she was a mannequin.  She had no obvious wounds.  Her left hand was in the pocket of her cloth coat; she seemed too straight, too composed, to have fallen where she lay.

Her feet were against a closed door that would open onto the rear of the showroom.  Yawn noticed three bullet holes in the door.

Apparently Ficke did not go into the kitchen to see the body.  Although his wife had pointed out the Edwardses' car less than an hour earlier, he failed to make the connection.  None of the others on the scene knew Perry and Virginia Edwards.  None knew Eunice.

*

Gerald Justice, a uniformed sergeant in the sheriff's office, was on road patrol when he got the call.

He found nobody when he parked out in front of the store.  According to a message from the dispatcher, Don Ficke was supposed to be here.

The store was dark.  Justice was walking around to the north side of the building when he heard shouting behind him.

He turned around and saw Ficke, Thompson, and the others leaving the store, through the front doors.

Ficke spotted Justice.

"God damn, Sarge, get me some help," Ficke shouted.

"What do you have in there?" Justice said.

"Multiple homicides," Ficke said.  "I need assistance."

Justice made a radio call to Bruce Churchill, the sheriff's lieutenant who was in charge of the Criminal Investigation Division, and he told Churchill what Ficke had said.

Churchill asked: "Does he want us to take the case, or does he just want technical assistance?"

Justice relayed the question to Ficke.

"I want you to take it," Ficke said.  "I want you to take the whole thing."

Justice told Churchill the answer.  Then he stepped out of his car and addressed Ficke and the others.  He ordered that nobody else enter the store; the crime scene now belonged to the OCSO--the Orange County sheriff's office.

*

Ted Van Deventer and Mickey Fisher drove together to 75 Temple Grove Drive, the home of Tommy Zeigler.  They got no answer at the front door.  The garage was closed, with a light on inside.

They went next door to the house of Tom and Beulah Zeigler.  Tom was already asleep for the night; Beulah has just been called by a cousin of Tommy's who had been listening to a radio scanner.

She left for the hospital with Van Deventer and Mickey Fisher, without disturbing her husband.  At the hospital they met Dr. Albert Gleason, the Zeiglers' family physician.  Gleason allowed Mrs. Zeigler to see Tommy for a few minutes while he was being prepped for surgery.

Ted Van Deventer and Mickey Fisher were worried about Eunice.  They wanted to be able to enter the Zeigler home, so they persuaded a nurse to bring them Tommy's pants, from which they took a key case.  One of the keys in the case looked as if it might belong to a front door.

Meanwhile, Beulah Zeigler tried to speak to her son just before he was taken away.  His voice was weak and his breathing was shallow.  She asked him where Eunice was.

He squinted to look at her—he had no glasses.

"Isn't she with you?" he said.

*

By now people were gathering around the front of the store, and more Winter Garden patrolmen had arrived.  Ficke sent Thompson and a Winter Garden patrolman named Revels to check on Curtis Dunaway.  The sheriff's crime scene unit was en route from Orlando.

Mickey Fisher and Ted Van Deventer returned from the hospital and told Ficke that they hadn't found Eunice or her parents.  Yawn described the young woman in the store, but nobody seemed to associate her with Eunice.  Apparently Don Ficke did not make the connection.

Someone suggested that Eunice and the Edwardses might be hostages inside her home, and the idea seemed to make sense.  Ficke ordered Yawn to Tommy Zeigler's house, with orders to enter the home if necessary.  Yawn got in a car with Fisher, Van Deventer, Phil Cross, and a local photographer named George McClellan.  They headed out to Temple Grove Drive, looking for Eunice Zeigler.

Soon a uniformed sheriff's deputy named James Pearson arrived at the store, followed shortly by Frank Hair, the sheriff's lieutenant in charge of the patrol shift.

Ficke, Hair, and Justice went back into the store.  They went to each of the three bodies.  This time, according to Hair, Ficke looked at the dead woman on the kitchen floor.  But the light was poor, and he did not identify her.

Winter Garden firemen were roping off the parking lot and pushing back the onlookers when Hair and the others came out of the building.  Hair decided to check the back of the building.  He brought James Pearson with him, and they walked up the north drive, to the fenced rear compound.

Pearson saw that the gate was locked, and he climbed up on it.  At about that moment, Hair turned around to look toward Dillard Street, and when he turned back, Pearson had jumped down on the other side of the fence and was looking around the back lot.

Hair walked up to the gate and found it ajar, open five or six inches.  The prong-type latch was still padlocked, but one of the latch's prongs was bent, which allowed the gate to swing back into the compound.

Hair came up behind Pearson and surprised him.

"How the hell did you get in?" Pearson said.

Hair looked around.  On the far side of the fence, in the Winter Garden Inn parking lot, was a shabby blue van.  That was the van of Charlie Mays.  Hair also noticed the pickup truck parked at the loading dock, inside the compound.  The registration of that truck would show that it belonged to Edward Williams.

*

Jimmy Yawn knocked on the front door at 75 Temple Grove, looking for Eunice Zeigler.  He got no answer.  He could see lights inside, but no movement.  Yawn walked around to the back; everything seemed quiet.  He noticed a small tear in the back screen door, just above the latch.

Yawn got on the radio to request backup.  Ficke sent Revels and Robert Thompson, who had returned after finding Curtis Dunaway at home with his family and bringing him to the store.

Yawn covered the front door while Ted Van Deventer tried the keys.  None of them worked.  Thompson used his flashlight to break a pane of glass in the French doors around back, and Yawn and Thompson entered.

They found two women's purses open on a settee in the living room.  The dining room was clean and in perfect order.  Cats lounged quietly on the countertops.

Yawn went into the garage and found Curtis Dunaway's 1972 Oldsmobile.  He looked into the car and found a .38 caliber revolver on the floor behind the driver's seat.  The gun's six chambers were loaded with live rounds.

Yawn put the gun in a paper bag.  They continued the search, in every room and up in the attic.  They found no hostages, no disturbance.

Eunice Zeigler's whereabouts were still unknown.

*

At the furniture store, the full extent of the carnage was about to be revealed.

Sheriff's officers were arriving in force.  The chief of detectives, Morris "Gene" Blankenship, drove up at 10:00 with Jack Bachman, a former county chief of detectives who now was a state attorney's investigator.  Bruce Churchill arrived at about this time.  So did Wayne Bird, the staff duty officer.

Sheriff's detectives would investigate the crime.  The sheriff's Technical Services specialists would collect the physical evidence.  That night the detectives and technicians did not arrive immediately; most had been called at their homes.

The building now was secure; Winter Garden fireman had roped off the front of the store, pushing back the curious crowd that was growing by the minute.  The victims inside were beyond medical assistance.

It is an axiom of criminal investigation that the scene should remain pristine until it has been photographed and the evidence preserved.  Anyone intruding on a crime scene, however carefully, may inadvertently disturb the setting or leave some scrap--hair, fingerprints, clothing fibers, dirt--that could later be confused with true evidence.

Blankenship, Bird, and Churchill, all ranking officers, decided to enter the showroom.  They began to tour the darkened store, going from one body to the next.  This was the third party to enter the crime scene, a total of ten different men, using flashlights to navigate through the darkness.

They picked their way around the guns and the blood on the terrazzo floor.  "There was such an amount of it, you couldn't go through it," Blankenship recalled later.  "Blood all over the floor, splattered up on the wall and chairs and furniture around there...."

Blankenship, Bird, and Churchill did not walk directly toward the front door when they decided to leave.  Instead they made their way along the south side of the showroom, the wall opposite the offices and counter.  That was how they found the fourth body, in a heap amid a display of living-room furniture.  She was a middle-aged white woman, with a gunshot wound in the side of her head.

*

Some of the evidence technicians had appeared by the time Blankenship, Bird, and Churchill left the store.  Blankenship walked around the north side of the building, down the driveway that led to the fenced parking area in the rear.

He found the electrical junction box on the outside wall.  The lever of the master switch was down.  Blankenship told one of the technicians to photograph it.  Then he used his flashlight to push the lever up.

The lights came on inside.

*

Robert Thompson showed up twice at Curtis Dunaway's family gathering.  The first time, Thompson only checked to be sure that Dunaway was safe.  He told Dunaway that Tommy Zeigler had been shot, and asked why Dunaway had turned off the power at the junction box when he left the store that evening.

Dunaway told him that he had not turned off the master switch.

Thompson showed up again less than an hour later, to bring Dunaway to the store.  A sheriff's detective brought Dunaway into the building, with instructions to keep his head down, not to look right or left but to follow the detective's path, step for step.

He was led to the body of Mays and asked to identify it.

Yes, Dunaway said, that was Charlie.  Then he was marched out again with the same instructions.

Dunaway stood outside beside Rita Ficke until shortly after midnight, when he was brought into the store again.  Dr. Guillermo Ruiz, a medical examiner, was on the scene.  Dunaway followed Ruiz to each of the three unidentified bodies.  He knew them all.

The white man was Perry Edwards, Eunice's father.

The older woman was Virginia Edwards.

The pretty young woman in the kitchen, straight and composed, was Eunice Zeigler.

Dr. Ruiz would perform autopsies on the bodies throughout most of Christmas Day.  That night at the store, he made preliminary examinations where they were found.

He began with Virginia Edwards.  She had been shot twice.  One bullet had passed through an arm, penetrated her chest, and nearly exited the other side--Ruiz could feel it under the skin.  The other bullet had entered her brain.

Charlie Mays had been shot twice in the abdomen, once from the front and once from the back, and had been badly beaten around the face and skull.

Perry Edwards, who lay about fifteen yards south of Mays on the terrazzo floor, also had been beaten about the head, and had multiple gunshot wounds.  He had been killed--probably as he lay wounded on the floor--by two shots to the head.

Eunice Zeigler had been shot once in the back of the head.  She had died at once.

Judging postmortem lividity,[1]  Dr. Ruiz placed the time of death of all four corpses within an hour either way of 8:00 P.M.

*

Tommy Zeigler at that moment was in the intensive care unit at West Orange Memorial, recovering from surgery.

The entrance wound of the gunshot was about three-eighths of an inch wide--not a small caliber--and was about navel-high, a little less than five inches to the right of the center line of the body.  The exit wound was slightly upward and very slightly to the left.

Gleason feared damage to the internal organs.  In that region the greatest danger was to the ascending colon.  Gleason performed a surgical procedure known as a laparotomy, to trace the path of the bullet.  He found that it had grazed the peritoneum, the lining of the abdomen that holds the colon, but had not punctured it.  It has passed within an inch of the liver.  None of the vital organs had been affected.

Dr. Gleason cleaned and sutured the wounds.  At 11:50 Tommy Zeigler was out of the operating room, resting under sedation in ICU.

He was about to become a suspect.


[1]     Postmortem lividity is the color that results from the settling of blood within a human body.  It is one means of placing time of death, if a body has not been disturbed.

Four

Donald Frye’s beeper sounded when he was at the movies. He telephoned the sheriff’s dispatcher and was told that there had been a shooting and robbery attempt at Zeigler Furniture in Winter Garden.  He got to the store just after Blankenship,  Bird, and Churchill discovered the body of Virginia Edwards.

Frye was twenty-nine years old and had nearly five years of police experience, all with the Orange County sheriff’s office.  He had been an OCSO detective since mid-1973, assigned to the Crimes Against Persons Section.  Detectives in that unit usually worked in pairs and were assigned cases by rotation.  In December 1975, Frye was teamed with Detective James Jenkins, and on Christmas Eve their names were at the top of the call list.

Frye took charge almost immediately.  Jenkins was already busy with another case, to which he would be assigned full-time in the next day or two.  From Christmas Eve on, Frye had day-to-day responsibility for the investigation.

No Orange County detective had ever investigated a quadruple homicide.  Few had ever confronted a murder scene so large or complex; the building measured 10,600 square feet, and potential evidence could be found throughout, although the greatest violence seemed to have occurred near the back of the showroom, especially in the northwest corner where Mays’s body was found.  The signs there were obvious: furniture in a jumble, bullet holes in the walls and ceiling, and dried sprays of blood.

That night and early Christmas morning the crime scene technicians collected and impounded items that included:

Ÿ       A pair of glasses and a set of keys on a ring, near the northwest corner of the showroom, not far from Charlie Mays’s body; both were later identified as belonging to Tommy Zeigler.

Ÿ       A tooth found in that same general area, against the north wall.

Ÿ       Receipt slips totaling about $415, and $405 in cash, stuffed in one of Charlie Mays’s trouser pockets.

Ÿ       A footstool with blood smeared on the legs, found at the back of the showroom where much of the carnage had occurred.

Ÿ       A shoulder holster, found between Mays and the west wall of the showroom.

Ÿ       What appeared to be the fingertip from a surgical rubber glove, just west of the kitchen door.

Ÿ       Two bloody .38 caliber cartridges from the top drawer of Tommy Zeigler’s desk in the office area behind the counter.  Though the cartridges appeared to be live rounds, the primer caps showed the impression of a firing pin: apparently they were misfires.

There were no obvious fingerprints, but Frye and the technicians saw bloody shoe prints in several locations.  One, very distinct, was at the edge of the blood pool around Perry Edwards.  Another was on the office door with the broken jamb, as if someone had kicked the door open.  Others were found in the kitchen, around Eunice Zeigler’s blood.  Several faint shoe prints ran down a narrow hallway that led from the northwest corner of the showroom to the rear parking lot.  All seemed to be of a similar rippled-sole pattern.

Five pistols were collected.

The revolver near the head of Perry Edwards was a Colt .357 magnum, with six empty .38 Special cartridge cases in the cylinder.  (A .357 revolver will fire .38 Special ammunition.)  It had a broken grip and showed traces of what appeared to be blood.

Two near the head of Charlie Mays were nearly identical snub-nose .38s manufactured by RG Industries, cheap five-shot guns; one had a bent trigger guard.  The damaged gun, RG #051827, contained two spent cartridges and three live rounds.  The firing mechanism had been damaged.  RG #051829 contained five empty cartridges and was in working order.

One of the pistols near Mays's feet was a two-shot Burgo derringer, with a live .38 Special round in the bottom chamber and an expended case in the top.

The other gun near Mays's feet was a .22 Smith & Wesson automatic with a round jammed in the chamber; nearby was an empty .22 case and two live .22 cartridges.

The blood evidence was of special interest to Frye.  In 1974, he had attended a one-week seminar conducted by Herbert MacDonell, a consulting criminalist in Corning, New York, who was expert in the flight characteristics of human blood—that is, various splatters from dripping wounds, from beatings, and from gunshot impacts.  Frye had learned to use the size and shape of blood splatters to analyze crime scenes. 

Blood from Charlie Mays’s beating—splashes from the impact itself, and droplets cast off from the weapon as it was swung up and down—showed that he had been beaten to death where he was found.  Most likely, the killer had sat astride his chest, and would have been speckled by the splashing blood. 

Mays's trousers, oddly, were down around his thighs, and the fly was unzipped.  His undershorts were smeared with blood.  The bottoms of the trousers were blood-soaked, and blood was smeared along the tops of his tennis shoes and caked in the soles.

Smears and droplets of blood formed a trail past the west door of the kitchen, along the north wall of the store to the corner of the showroom.  The trail continued as a series of faint blood swipes on the terrazzo, ending at the body of Perry Edwards.  Frye surmised that this trail marked a fierce battle between Perry Edwards and his attacker.  He decided that the swipe marks on the terrazzo had been transferred from bloody clothing during a struggle that ended when Edwards was shot through the head.  Some of the blood droplets from Mays’s beating had splashed on top of these swipes, and when Frye examined them closely he saw that the swipe had already been dry when the droplets fell.

This was startling.  It meant that at least fifteen minutes—the minimum time required for the swipes to dry—had elapsed between the murders of Perry Edwards and Mays.

There was more.  The shoulder holster was spotless, although it was found within the scatter of blood from Mays’s beating.  When Frye lifted the holster he found blood on the floor beneath it.  However, none of that blood had spotted the bottom of the holster.  So the holster had been placed there, on dry blood, sometime after Mays was killed.

And more.  The kitchen door at Eunice Zeigler’s feet was closed.  Yet when Frye opened the door he found, along the door frame, the minute blood spray that can only be produced by a high-velocity impact.  It was located almost exactly at the height of the wound behind Eunice’s left ear, the single shot to the brain that killed her.  Frye, noting that her left hand was still in her pocket, believed that she had been surprised while standing in the open doorway.  The door must have been closed later.

Frye realized that what had happened in the store had not been a single, frenetic event. Rather, Charlie Mays had been shot and beaten a quarter hour or more after the first three murders. Someone, presumably the killer, had walked around the scene after the murders: the bloody shoe prints and the holster on top of dry blood seemed to demonstrate that.  To Frye, all of this cast doubt on Tommy Zeigler’s statement that he had shot Mays in a robbery attempt.

Yet Tommy Zeigler was in West Orange Memorial with a gunshot wound in the abdomen.

A few feet east of the service counter, seventy or eighty feet from the carnage at the back of the showroom, was a large patch of blood that had soaked into the carpet. Some tiny pieces of glass lay in the blood. Frye assumed that they came from the broken lens of a flashlight nearby.  A few feet from that pool of blood, on the facing of the counter, Frye could make out the high-velocity splatter from a gunshot wound.  A bloody trail of drips and smears led from this spot to the front door.

Frye theorized that someone had been shot in the area east of the counter and then had made his way to the door.  He believed that the bloody trail belonged to Tommy Zeigler.

Frye remained at the store all night.  Before dawn he formed his working hypothesis: that Tommy Zeigler had committed all four murders, first his wife, then her parents, finally Charlie Mays at least a quarter of an hour later.  And then had shot himself to divert suspicion.

In the earliest hours of Christmas Day, two witnesses came forth independently with support for Frye’s theory.  Their accounts, coupled with the evidence in the store, portrayed Tommy Zeigler not as a victim but as a calculating killer.

Five


Edward Williams first tried to tell his story at the 33rd Street sheriff's substation in south Orlando.  The desk officer there, apparently unaware that the crime was now a county matter, told Williams that he should go to the Winter Garden police headquarters.

Williams left.  The sheriff's officers at the store were dismayed to learn by radio that their first potential witness had been sent off into the night.

An OCSO detective, H.D. "Denny" Martin, was waiting for Williams when he arrived at the Winter Garden headquarters around midnight.  Williams was driving his gray Camaro.  He was accompanied by a woman named Mary Ellen Stewart, whom he described as a friend from Orlando, and Mrs. Stewart's son-in-law.

Edward Williams was a black man, a forty-seven-year-old native of the Bahamas who had come to the United States in 1953 with a harvesting crew and had become a citizen ten years later. He still spoke with a soft Bahamian accent.

This is the story he told:

At 7:28 that evening he arrived in his pickup truck at Zeigler's house.  On Monday, Zeigler had asked Williams to meet him at 7:30, to help deliver some large gifts.  Zeigler had reminded him of the appointment on Christmas Eve.  Nobody was at home when Williams arrived at Temple Grove Drive; Williams found a note from Zeigler saying that he would be back in a few minutes.

Williams waited in his pickup.  After about ten to fifteen minutes, Zeigler drove up to his car, accompanied by two people, one up front beside him and one in the backseat.

Zeigler went into his house while the passengers stayed in the car. When he came out, two or three minutes later, he walked up to Williams in the truck.  He told Williams to wait another ten minutes, and he drove off with the two passengers.

Williams waited.  After ten to twelve minutes another car came up the driveway, a white man and a woman; they backed out and left.  The time now would have been about 8:00 to 8:10, based on Williams's estimates.  After about twenty minutes Zeigler drove up again.  This time he was alone.  He parked the car in the garage and jumped out holding a small bag.

Zeigler went to a sink in the garage.  He wet a towel or cloth and appeared to wipe around the car.  He put the towel in the sink, came out, and closed the garage door with a remote control in his pickup truck.

He climbed into Williams's truck, and Williams noticed something strange.

 

From the transcript of his tape-recorded interview:  "He [Zeigler] sat down, I wasn't paying no attention.  In fact, I must speak what I, what my eyes see... when he faced me, when he coming from putting the rag back and coming towards the, the front of the garage to come out, the light shine, I saw under the light shine I saw a, like a patch of blood, or some stain was on his pants.  "But now I, not thinking anything [inaudible] because I know the man, I, now I wouldn't know he could do any evil or anything."

Williams started to drive to the store.

"Damn, I'm tired," Zeigler said.

Williams asked him which route he wanted to take to the store, and Zeigler gave him directions to a residential street that bypassed Dillard, out onto Route 50.  Then they turned off the highway and drove the last half block up Dillard to the store. Zeigler told Williams to let him out at the front of the store and meet him around back.  Williams noticed a car parked in front of the store with "foreign tags."

Williams did not know the time.  But based on his estimates, it would have been about 8:40.

Williams did as he was told.  He went up the driveway, stopped at the locked gate, and waited.  About five minutes later, Zeigler came out, opened the gate, and motioned Williams in.  Zeigler closed the gate behind them.  He told Williams to back up to the doorway at the northwest corner of the building, and Williams did.

Zeigler went inside the store.  But Williams wanted to urinate, so he stopped to relieve himself beside the truck.

Zeigler called to Williams:  "Come on in, Edward."

"Mr. Tommy, I'm coming," Williams said.

Williams started up the short hallway that opened onto the terrazzo area of the showroom.  The hallway was dark, and he had to feel his way along.

"Edward," Zeigler said.

Williams told him again that he was coming.

Williams stepped into the doorway.  Zeigler stood four or five feet away, facing him, holding what Williams believed to be a gun.  Zeigler pulled the trigger three times, and three times it dry-fired: no gunshot.

Again, in Williams's words:

"I heard the sound pop, pop, pop.  Snapped three time.  And I hollered, for God's sake, Mr. Tommy, don't kill me, don't kill me, Mr. Tommy.  And I ran back out.  And when I got out of the building he came behind me.  He said, Edward, I didn't know that was you.  I said, Mr. Tommy, don't tell me you didn't know that was me, why you tried to kill me, what I done, you know, I ain't do you nothing."

Zeigler still had the gun.  He insisted that he meant Williams no harm.  Williams asked Zeigler to unlock the gate so he could leave, and Zeigler asked Williams to follow him inside so he could get the key.

Williams refused.  He was sure that Zeigler meant to kill him.

Zeigler told Williams to calm down and be quiet.  He gave Williams the pistol, and he put an arm around Williams, trying to hold him. Williams noticed spots of blood on Zeigler's face and clothes, and he pushed Zeigler off.

Zeigler pleaded for Williams to come into the store with him: "Edward, if you don't go, you're gonna frame me."

Williams decided to lie his way to safety.  He told Zeigler that he would follow him into the store if Zeigler would first open the gate.

Zeigler agreed.  Instead, though, he got in Williams's truck. Williams ran in the opposite direction, to the southwest corner of the compound.  He climbed the fence and jumped down into the back lot of the Winter Garden Inn.

Williams put the pistol in his pocket, went across Dillard Street to the Kentucky Fried Chicken, and asked to use the telephone.  He also asked the number of the police.

A clerk gave him a telephone number and showed him to a phone in the office.  Williams tried the number he had been given, and had a confused conversation with someone who told him, "There ain't no police here." Frustrated, he left the restaurant.  Outside he met two girls whom he knew; he asked them for a ride.

"They said they was on their way to Orlando.  I said could you drop me in Orlando.  She said yeah.  I said will you hurry because it's urgent.  I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm in a bad fix."

Williams was in their car when he remembered that his Camaro was supposed to have been repaired that day.  He found it outside the service station where he had brought it, with the key inside.  He drove to Orlando, to the home of Mary Stewart, whom he had known for years. He told her what had happened; she called her attorney, and on his advice they went to the sheriff's substation.

Williams concluded his statement:  "This is Edward Williams speaking, concerning what happened to him on Christmas Eve....[T]he only thing I was wondering was, what worries me why, it worries me wondering why Mr. Tommy being so nice to me, why he would try to take my life."

*

One of the crime scene technicians removed a chrome-plated Securities Industries .38 snub-nose revolver from between the front seats of the Camaro.  All six cylinders were empty.  According to Williams, this was the pistol that Zeigler gave him when he tried to coax him back into the store.

At 2:20 A.M., Denny Martin accompanied Williams to his apartment. Williams surrendered the clothes he was wearing, including a black cardigan sweater, dark slacks, and black ankle-length boots.  Martin gave him a receipt for the clothes, then drove Williams to Mary Stewart's home in Orlando.

Frye's partner, James Jenkins, had sat in on Williams's interview. Jenkins went back to the store and reported it to Frye.

Williams's story was a stunning accusation.  Though he had heard no shots and had seen no bodies, Williams contradicted any theory of innocence for Tommy Zeigler.

The account did pose one huge question: who were the two passengers in the car with Zeigler the first time Williams saw him?

Don Frye did not have to wait long for an answer.

Table One

TIME SEQUENCE:  EDWARD WILLIAMS

Based on Williams's original statement and his subsequent testimony. Williams apparently looked at his watch only once on Christmas Eve, when he arrived at 75 Temple Grove Drive.  All other times are approximate, based on his estimates and the known driving time between the house and the furniture store.  Where Williams estimated a range of time--between fifteen and twenty minutes, for example--the greater figure is used.

7:28 P.M.    At Tommy Zeigler's house, Williams finds a note from Tommy Zeigler, checks watch.

7:40            Zeigler arrives in a car with two passengers, goes into his house, comes out, and asks Williams to wait about ten more minutes; then drives away.

8:00            A white man and a woman pull into the drive, then leave.

8:25            Zeigler drives up alone, parks the car, and wipes it down.  Williams notices dark stain on Zeigler's pants. Zeigler gets into Williams's truck, and they drive to the furniture store.

8:35            Williams and Zeigler arrive at the store.  Zeigler enters the front door and Williams waits at the back gate.

8:40            Zeigler brings Williams into the store, tries to kill him; chases him into rear compound, pleads with him to come into the store again; Williams refuses and climbs the fence.

8:45            Williams attempts to call police from Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Six

At about the same time that Denny Martin returned from bringing Williams to Orlando, the itinerant fruit picker Felton Thomas1 approached an OCSO patrolman in a coffee shop on Route 50, between Winter Garden and Orlando.  Thomas said that he had information about what had happened at the store. 

Denny Martin picked up Thomas.  Frye and Jenkins brought him into the store and interviewed him. Thomas was a twenty-seven-year-old black man from Georgia who had been picking fruit since he was fourteen, when he had quit the seventh grade.  He spoke softly, with an occasional stammer.

Thomas told the detectives that he was standing around a bonfire in Oakland when Charlie Mays drove up in his van on the evening of the 24th.  Mays asked Thomas to come along for a ride.  Thomas got in the van.

Mays drove into Winter Garden and up Dillard Street to Zeigler Furniture.  He told Thomas that he was going to pick up a color TV.  Mays stopped in front of the store. Nobody was there, and the store was dark, so Mays pulled around to the back corner of the building.  He parked in the rear lot of the Winter Garden Inn, against the chain-link fence that separated the two properties.

Mays and Thomas passed time with a conversation about betting jai alai; Mays told Thomas that he had won $400 the night before. 

Then a man whom Thomas did not know drove up in a Cadillac and told Mays, “Ain’t nobody here yet, Charlie.  Come ride with me.”

Mays and Thomas left the van and got in the Cadillac.  They drove out onto Route 50 and made a right turn onto an extension of Dillard Street that headed south away from town.  The pavement ended, and they were in an area of orange groves.  The man said he had bought three guns, and he wanted Mays and Thomas to try them.

From the interview:

Q  (JENKINS):  Okay, let me stop you and clear up a few things.  Now this man in the Cadillac, was he a white man or a black man?

A  (THOMAS):  He, he was a white man.

Q:  Okay, did Charlie introduce you to him?

A:  He introduced me to him.


[1]  That night he signed his statement to the police “Thomas Felton.”  For at least ten weeks, both prosecution and defense, as well as the local media, referred to him as “Thomas Felton” or “Buddy Felton.”

 

Q:  Okay, did he tell you the man’s name or tell you who the man was or what he did or anything like that to identify him?

A:  He, he said it was Zeiglers, he said the man what name Zeiglers, he owned the place.

Q:  Okay, the man named Zeigler who owned the furniture store that you were at, right?

A:  Right.

Near Thomas’s feet on the floor of the Cadillac was a supermarket paper bag containing three pistols.  The white man whom Mays called Zeigler lowered the electric windows.  Mays took one pistol and fired three or four shots outside, without leaving his seat.  Thomas took a gun, but Zeigler told him to put it down, try another, and Thomas did.  He fired a single shot.

Q:  Okay, let me, let me clear a few things up about the weapons, now and when you were firing them. Did, whose idea was it for you to fire the guns?

A:  It, it was his idea.

Q:  Okay, you’re talking about Mr. Zeigler?

A:  Mr. Zeigler’s, it was his idea.

Q:  Okay, what did he say to you to get you to fire them?

A:  He said he wanted our opinion about seeing whether they good guns, accurate guns, you know.

Q:  So in other words he, he just wanted to, wanted you—

A:  Just wanted us to fire the guns seemed like.

Q:  Okay, just wanted you to fire the guns to see if they were good guns—

A:  Right.

Q: —in your opinion

A:  Right.

Q:  Okay, and after you had fired the weapons…you fired the one weapon and Charlie Mays fired the other  one, is that right?

A:  Right.

Q:  Okay, now, did Mr. Zeigler ever fire any of the weapons?

A:  No sir, he, he, he never touched the weapons.  He just, just, just looked at the one I had in my hand and said try the other one.

Q:  Okay, so he never touched the weapons as, as far as you saw, right?

A:  As far as I saw, he never touched them.

After they had fired the pistols, Zeigler drove them back up Dillard Street to the furniture store.  He put Thomas out of the car and told him to pull the switch at the electrical box along the north side of the store.

Mays and Zeigler left Thomas there and drove back to where the van was parked, at the high fence behind the motel.  Thomas pulled the switch and went around to join them there.

And then Zeigler did a curious thing. He said, “What the hell, I’ll just crack a window,” and climbed the fence and jumped down into the rear parking lot of the furniture store. 

Q:  Okay, now you said Mr. Zeigler owned the place, right?

A:  Right.

Q:  Okay, but he wanted to hop the fence and break, break a window to get in.

A:  Yes sir.

Q:  Did he tell you why he wanted to do it that way?

A:  He said because the, the, the, the guy was in Apopka[2] and said cause Charlie wanted his TV tonight for, for his wife because tomorrow was Christmas.        

Zeigler urged Mays and Thomas to follow him over the fence.

 Mays did, reluctantly.  Thomas stayed beside the van on the motel side of the fence.  Zeigler picked up a piece of pipe and swung it against a back window of the store.

This frightened Mays, who climbed back over the fence.

 “I ain’t going for no shit like that,” Mays said.  “I don’t need it like that.”

 “Well, hell,” Zeigler said, “I’ll go to the house, I think I got an extra key.”

They drove to Zeigler’s house and up a driveway[3].  Thomas saw a pickup truck and a car parked in front of the garage.

Zeigler went into the garage and came back with a key and a box of bullets.  He gave the bullets to Mays and told him to reload the gun.  Mays did.

They left and drove back to the furniture store, where they parked out front.

The store was dark, and Mays was nervous.  Mays said that he would walk around and bring the truck out front.  But Zeigler said no, first they would go in and bring the television to the front door.

Zeigler and Mays got out of the car.  They were about to enter the front door when Zeigler turned and said, “Come on, Tom, we need your help.  Come on, Tom.”

But Thomas was frightened.  He didn’t like the dark store.  He told Zeigler: “You cut on some light, I’ll go in there.”

 “If you’re not coming in,” Zeigler said, “just sit back in the car.”

But Felton Thomas had seen enough.  He watched Mays and Zeigler walk in the dark store, then he got out of the Cadillac and crossed Dillard Street to the shopping center.  There he met his friends leaving the TG&Y store, and they gave


[2]    An Orange County town about fifteen miles north of Winter Garden.

[3]    In the interview, Thomas described a roundabout route from the store to the city limits of Oakland and then to Temple Grove Drive.

 

him a ride to Oakland.  Around midnight he heard about the murders in the store, heard that Charlie Mays had been killed.

Q:  Did you see what happened after they [went] in the door?

A:  No sir, it, it was, it was too dark for anybody to see, see them after they stepped in the building.

Q:  So the only thing you can say is that you saw Charlie Mays and, and Mr. Zeigler come in the building together and all the lights were off.

A:  Yes sir.Q:  Okay.  Mr. Thomas, would you say that Mr. Zeigler was acting peculiar or was acting suspicious while entering the, entering the building?

A:  Well, well well I didn’t know the man[‘s] ways, but he had some peculiar ways about him.  The, the, the way he seemed to be acting, you know, it, it, it wasn’t right you know . . .

Q:  Was there anything else about the way he was conducting himself or the way he was acting that made you feel suspicious that he was possibly doing something wrong, anything like that?

A:  Well, well I said in, in my mind . . . Af, af, after what happened, you know, it all seemed like, like he, he was, you know, just trying to use somebody or something.

*By now Robert Thompson had identified Charlie May’s van across the fence, where Felton Thomas had said it was parked.  The dirt road south of Route 50 and the grove were as Thomas described them. Above all, Thomas’s story meshed with that of Edward Williams on a crucial point: apparently they had noticed each other when Zeigler drove to the house with Mays and Thomas.  Williams had seen two passengers with Zeigler; Felton Thomas had seen a vehicle behind Zeigler’s pickup in the driveway, exactly where Williams had claimed he was parked.

Thomas had identified that vehicle as a car, not a truck, and the Dunaway Oldsmobile was certainly not a Cadillac[4].  But the discrepancies seemed unimportant to Frye.  He believed that Felton Thomas was telling the truth, that in watching Charlie Mays enter the store with Zeigler, Thomas had witnessed the last few moments of May’s life.  Frye believed that Zeigler had murdered Mays, shooting him and then beating him to death, within seconds after the front door closed behind them.


[4]              The Zeiglers’ new car was a white Oldsmobile Toronado, which did resemble a Cadillac.

 

Frye had been at the scene less than ten hours, yet with the help of Williams and Thomas, and his own observations, he could already sketch the outline of what happened inside the store.  Frye could even supply the reason for Mays’s death.

“He was trying to use somebody or something,” Felton Thomas had said of Zeigler near the end of the interview.  Don Frye agreed.  He believed that Zeigler had brought Williams and Charlie Mays to the store—Williams on the pretext of an errand, Mays with the promise of a TV set—so that he could kill them and arrange a fake robbery, make it appear that the two black men had killed his wife and her parents.  For this reason he had stuffed cash and receipt slips into Mays’s pants.  The purpose of the bizarre trip to the orange grove was to get gunshot residue on the hands of Mays and Thomas and to put their fingerprints on the  guns.  He had phoned the Van Deventer home and had asked specifically for his friend Don Ficke, on the assumption that Ficke would be inclined to accept his explanation.

But why should Zeigler kill at all?

Proof of motive is not legally necessary for a murder conviction.  As a practical matter, though, jurors in a difficult case often want an explanation of motive before they will convict.  That would be especially true in any trial of Tommy Zeigler, who had so much to lose.  Why would he jeopardize his wealth and position?

Frye didn’t know the answer yet.  But he knew who did.

Table Two

 TIME SEQUENCE: FELTON THOMAS

Thomas gave no specific times or intervals.  Don Frye reconstructed a time line, on the premise that Thomas and Charlie Mays arrived at the furniture store around 7:30 p.m.

7:30 p.m. Mays and Thomas are at store.  Store is dark, Zeigler is gone.  Edwardses’ car is parked out front.

7:35 p.m.             Zeigler drives up and parks beside Mays’s van.  Mays and Thomas leave with Zeigler in his car.  Mays and Thomas fire pistols in the orange grove.

7:40 p.m. Back to the furniture store.  Thomas pulls electrical switch,  Zeigler attempts to break into the store, Mays objects.  They drive to Zeigler’s house.

7:50 p.m. The three arrive at Zeigler’s house.  Zeigler comes out of garage with a box of ammunition, tells Mays to reload.  They return to store.

8:00 p.m.   Mays and Zeigler enter the furniture store.  Thomas refuses, runs away, finds a ride back to Oakland.

2:30 a.m. Thomas turns himself in to OSCO patrolman near Orlando.

Seven


Around 7:00 on Christmas morning, Frye and James Jenkins left the store and met Don Ficke at West Orange Memorial  The three of them went up to the nurse's station of the intensive care unit on the second floor.

They wanted to interview Tommy Zeigler.  Kathleen Clark, the head ICU nurse, told them that Zeigler could have no visitors.  She had just come on duty and wasn't sure that he was in condition to be interviewed.  And she didn't know whether Zeigler had been told of the four deaths; she didn't think he ought to hear it from the police.

Ficke wrote out a consent—in essence, a waiver of Zeigler's Fourth Amendment rights—on a piece of paper.  Ficke later testified that Frye dictated it; Frye said that it was a mutual effort.  The document read:

December 25, 1975

I Thomas Zeigler of Temple Grove Winter Garden Florida due [sic] knowingly and willingly give Donald G. Ficke and Det Frye permission to search my home in an attempt to aid there [sic] investigation into the shooting that took  place at 1010 Dillard St. Winter Garden Florida on December 24, 1975.

Frye gave the document to Kathleen Clark and asked her to take it to Zeigler; she was to read it to him, make sure that he was alert, and asked him to sign it.

Zeigler within the past hour and a half had been given a one-eight-gram dose of morphine sulfate for pain; he was sleeping when Clark went in with Doris Thompson, another nurse.  Clark woke him and told him that the police were outside.  He asked her to send them in, and she refused.

She read the document to Zeigler and told him that the police wanted him to sign it.

Zeigler said that he would.  Clark gave him a pen, and he scrawled his signature at the bottom, witnessed by the two nurses.

Sheriff's officers had already decided that they were entitled to search throughout the furniture store and to impound any evidence they wished.  Zeigler, after all, had invited police to the store when he called for help, and in any case they were empowered to investigate a crime scene.  Now Zeigler's signature on the consent form gave them unrestricted access to all the business records, files personal papers, and belongings in both the store and the Zeigler home, without ever applying for a search warrant.

*

Frye and Ficke went from the hospital to 75 Temple Grove.  They were joined by Jenkins and two evidence technicians, and the party searched the house for two hours or more.

In the bath of the master bedroom they found a Holiday Inn towel with reddish stains, suspected to be blood.

In a nightstand drawer they found twenty-four live .38 cartridges, twelve each of Remington and Winchester.

In the garage they found a damp hand towel.

They spent considerable time examining the Dunaway Oldsmobile parked in the garage.  Frye found reddish smears, suspected blood, on the front of the driver's headrest.  He found blood-like smears on the interior door handle, driver's side.  Later the car was towed to the 33rd Street station, where it was examined again.  Technicians found a tissue paper with a blood-like stain crumpled under the driver's seat.

Detectives questioned Dunaway.  He had not bled in his car, he said; he had no explanation for the stains.  They had not been there on Christmas Eve, when he exchanged cars with Tommy Zeigler.

*

Dr. Guillermo Ruiz began to autopsy the bodies at 7:00 A.M. on Christmas Day.

The first body was that of Virginia Edwards.  She was five feet nine, 147 pounds.  Ruiz traced the path of the bullet that had passed through her right arm, then penetrated her chest, one lung, the liver, and stomach.  He recovered the .38 caliber slug nearly intact from under the skin on the left side of her torso.

The second shot, the killing bullet to her head, was in three fragments in her brain.  Dr. Ruiz noted powder tattooing around a bullet wound in a finger of her right hand, and surmised that she had been shot at close range while holding her hand to her head.

Eunice Zeigler, five feet six and 114 pounds, had died from the gunshot behind her left ear.  Ruiz recovered the bullet in two pieces. He found no other injuries.

Perry Edwards, who apparently had struggled so bravely at the back of the store, was five feet ten, 150 pounds.  He had been shot five times.  There were through-and-through wounds—that is, from bullets that had exited the body-in his right ear, his right shoulder, and his left shoulder.  Ruiz recovered two .38 caliber slugs from his brain, the close-range shots that had killed him.

Ruiz counted seventeen contusions, abrasions, and lacerations along the left side of his face and at the top of his head.  But there were no underlying fractures—his wounds were mostly superficial.

The blunt trauma injuries of Charlie Mays, however, were deep and brutal.  One blow to his left eye had fractured the orbit and pushed the bone into the cavity beneath it.  The wound measured about two by three inches.  The left side of his face was shattered from the upper jaw to the eye.  Fractured bone lay beneath four distinct lacerations of his face, forehead, and scalp.

Dr. Ruiz removed Mays's brain and found that the fractures extended to the anterior fossae, the front of the brain pan in the cranium.  The base of the skull was traumatized and broken.

Mays was five feet eight, 140 pounds.  There were abrasions and swelling on his right hand, possibly from a blunt object.  He had one empty socket in his jaw, the left top canine tooth.

Ruiz used metal probes to trace the paths of two through-and-through wounds in Mays's abdomen.  Mays had been shot once in the back, once in the front abdomen.  One wound was superficial.  The other bullet had passed through his liver.  But Ruiz found only about 200 cc of blood in the peritoneum.  This meant that neither wound had been fatal.  Charlie Mays had been beaten to death by someone swinging a blunt object, probably the linoleum crank that was fund beside him.

Mays's gunshot wounds were about the same size and circumference as those on the other bodies; apparently everyone had been shot and killed by .38 caliber bullets.

*

Early Christmas morning, the OCSO took custody of the clothes that Tommy Zeigler had been wearing when he was taken to the hospital.  A nurse had picked them up off the floor of the emergency room, put them in a plastic bag, and given the bag to Beulah Zeigler, who apparently gave it to one of Tommy's cousins, L.M. Zeigler, at the hospital.  He brought them home and left them outside, in his van.

He was awakened that night by a call from the Winter Garden police, asking him to return the bag to the hospital.  He did.  The bag was placed at the second-floor nurse's station, and an OCSO technician.  Harry Park, retrieved it there.  Park found the clothes jumbled together in the bag, so he put each item  into a separate paper bag, then took them to headquarters, where he laid them out to dry.

Don Frye inspected the clothing.  He saw that the left underarm of Zeigler's long-sleeved shirt was deeply stained with blood.  Frye believed that much of that blood was from Perry Edwards.  Edwards had been shot through one ear, and ears

bleed profusely.  Frye speculated that Edwards had bled on Zeigler's shirt while Zeigler held the seventy-two year old man clenched in a headlock and battered his skull with the crank.

The soles of Zeigler's shoes were of a ripple pattern and showed traces of what appeared to be blood.  The OCSO technicians had lifted an impression of one of the bloody prints in the rear hallway.  Frye performed an "overlay."  That is, he lightly placed one of Zeigler's shoes over the impression of the bloody print.

Frye was not a footprint expert, but he knew the evidence of his own eyes.  It was a match.

*

One of Tommy Zeigler's close friends in Winter Garden was Richard Smith, chief physical therapist and director of security and safety at West Orange Memorial.  In the early 1970's they had served together in an Army Reserve unit.

On Christmas morning, Smith visited ICU several times to see his friend.  Smith knew that Zeigler had not yet been told about the deaths of Eunice and the others.  After speaking with Zeigler's physician, Dr. Gleason, Smith decided that he must break the news.

His account of that moment is contained in his trial testimony, and in the sworn statement that he gave to police on January 12.

Smith said that at around 11:00 Christmas morning he went into the ICU room with Wayman "Lee" Jones, who was also close to Zeigler.  Lee Jones was president of Orange Federal Savings and Loan in Winter Garden.

Smith stood by Zeigler's side.

"Do you know what's happened?" Smith said.

"I went down there with Edward," Zeigler said.

Smith asked him again if he knew what had happened.  Zeigler said that he had gone into the store.  He tried a light switch, but the light didn't come on.  He moved toward another switch, and he was hit from behind.  He felt a sharp, hot pain.

Now he seemed to doze off again.  Smith shook him and blurted, "Tommy, Eunice is dead."

And at that, Smith testified, Zeigler closed his eyes and began to cry, and Smith took him in his arms.

Table Three

TIME SEQUENCE (ESTIMATED): DON FRYE

Don Frye compiled a time line of the events in the store and at 75 Temple Grove, interpreting the statements of Edward Williams and Felton Thomas and other evidence.  Frye believed that Williams's time estimates were generally ten to fifteen minutes too early.  The times are approximate.

6:20 p.m. Furniture store closes, all vacate.

6:30         Curtis Dunaway and Tommy Zeigler exchange cars at Zeigler's house.

6:45-50    Dunaway drives home in Zeigler's white Toronado.

7:00         Zeigler arranges for Perry and Virginia Edwards to follow him and Eunice to the store.  Zeigler writes the note for Edward Williams.  The Edwardses drive their green Ford sedan, while Tommy and Eunice are in Dunaway's two-tone Oldsmobile.

7:05-15   Tommy and Eunice arrive at the store; Tommy kills Eunice.

7:20-25   Mr. and Mrs. Edwards arrive at the store and are killed by Zeigler; shot stops wall clock at 7:24.

7:28        Edward Williams arrives at Zeigler's home, finds the note.

7:30       Zeigler departs the store for reasons unknown.  Three persons inside are dead.

7:30       Charlie Mays and Felton Thomas, in the blue van, arrive at the furniture store. The Edwardses' Ford is parked out front, but Dunaway's Olds is gone.  Mays parks around back of the store to wait.

7:35       Zeigler meets Mays and Thomas behind the store.  Mays and Thomas leave the van and drive with Zeigler to the orange grove, in Dunaway's car.  Mays and Thomas fire several shots from  pistols that Zeigler gives them in a paper bag.

7:40       Zeigler, Mays, and Thomas return to the store.  Thomas pulls the main electrical breaker.  Mays objects when Zeigler attempts to break into the store.  They drive to Zeigler's house for keys.

7:50        Zeigler, Mays, and Thomas arrive at Temple Grove Drive.  Thomas sees Williams truck.  Williams sees Zeigler and two passengers in Dunaway's car.  Zeigler gets a box of ammunition from the house and tells Williams to wait a few more minutes.  Zeigler, Mays, and Thomas return to the store.

7:55-8:00 Zeigler parks at the front of the store and coaxes Mays inside.  Thomas runs away.  Zeigler kills Mays.

8:10         Don and Rita Ficke drive to 75 Temple Grove, looking for Tommy and Eunice. They see Williams in his truck, no car in the lighted garage.

8:20-30    Zeigler arrives home and parks the Dunaway car in the garage.  He wipes down the front seat and the outside door handle.  After closing the garage door, Zeigler gets into Williams's truck, carrying a paper bag.

8:35-40   Zeigler and Williams arrive at the store in Williams's truck.  Williams parks his truck in the back lot as Zeigler instructs him.  Zeigler locks the gate.

8:40         Don and Rita Ficke drive to Zeigler's home.  Williams's truck is gone. Dunaway's Olds is parked inside the garage.

8:40-50   Zeigler attempts to shoot and kill Edward Williams with an empty revolver (Securities .38).  Zeigler gives the gun to Williams.

9:20       Zeigler phones the Van Deventer home.

Eight

The investigation continued in and around the store. Much of it was tedious.  Through December 27, technicians collected blood samples, mostly with Q-Tip swabs or filter paper.  They tried to preserve latent fingerprints and the bloody shoe prints.  They continued to photograph the scene.

They searched for bullets and bullet holes.  Eventually investigators would estimate that twenty-eight shots had been fired inside the store.

Several bullets had struck the north wall, both east and west of the counter.  Five shots had been sprayed westward from inside the kitchen, three of them passing through the closed west door of the kitchen—the door that had been open when Eunice Zeigler was killed.  Spent slugs were recovered on the showroom floor, inside a china cabinet, and in the roofing insulation. One was found in the office closet, where it had come to rest after passing through at least two interior walls.  Another was discovered in the back of an electric clock that hung above the east door of the kitchen.  The slug had dislodged a gear, and the clock was now inoperable.  It had stopped at 7:24.1

The same desk that yielded the two bloody misfires also contained a .22 Beretta semiautomatic pistol.  Although it had not been fired, it would be the last of eight handguns introduced as evidence at the trial.

Technicians found no fingerprints in William’s truck.  Frye speculated that Zeigler had wiped off all of the prints after moving it from the hallway door to the bay door where it was found.

Two dramatic discoveries broke the tedium.

On January 2, investigators opened a cabinet beside the overhead garage-type door in the rear storage area.  Inside they found live and expended .38 Special rounds, three brown grocery bags (one of them apparently bloody), two empty boxes for revolvers, one empty box marked for .38 Special cartridges, and a blue towel.  The evidence perfectly fit the stories of Felton Thomas and Edward Williams.  Here, Frye believed, was the box of bullets that Zeigler had carried out of the garage and from which Charlie Mays had reloaded one of the pistols.  Thomas identified one of the grocery bags as the one in which Zeigler carried the three guns that he took to the orange grove.  And could this be the same towel with which Zeigler had concealed his pistol when he tried to shoot Edward Williams?  


1              Curtis Dunaway testified that the clock was running normally just before closing time on Christmas Eve.  Whether the clock was running when the bullet struck it—that is, whether the power was on in the store—could not be determined.

On December 26, Frye began to study the financial paperwork in Zeigler’s office desk.  In a locked drawer of the desk2 Frye found three term life insurance policies.  All had been applied for in September of 1975.  One was issued in October 1975, the other in November, less than two months before the murders.

One of the policies, in the amount of $250,000, was on Tommy Zeigler.  Two others, each for $250,000, were on Eunice.  Both of these had been applied for by Tommy.  Counting smaller policies, Tommy Zeigler and the family corporation of which he was part owner stood to gain more than half a million dollars from the death of his wife.  The policies not only provided a classic motive for murder, but suggested that Zeigler had contemplated the killings for many weeks.  Other evidence implied that Zeigler had planned in thoughtful detail.

Mattie Mays told investigators about the promised TV, and the 7:30 appointment at the store.

Curtis Dunaway said the blue towel came from his car: he used it to cover up holes in the upholstery.  Dunaway told how he and Zeigler had exchanged cars on Christmas Eve.  Zeigler, not Dunaway, had initiated the swap.  The new white Toronado would have been obvious as Zeigler drove around the streets of his hometown.  But he would be much less conspicuous in Dunaway’s drab four-year-old model.  When he drove with Felton Thomas, and later, Edward Williams that night, Zeigler followed routes that bypassed busy Dillard Street.  He literally went out of his way to escape recognition.

Don and Rita Ficke told Frye about their three trips to Temple Grove Drive when they were looking for Tommy and Eunice.  On their second visit, around 8:10, they saw Edward Williams in his pickup truck, waiting in the driveway.  There was no car.  This corroborated William’s account.  On their third trip, the pickup truck was gone, and Dunaway’s Oldsmobile was parked in the garage.  This, too, was consistent with William’s story.

Robert Thompson, the Oakland chief of police, told Frye that Zeigler had come to Oakland on December 23, specifically to invite him to the Van Deventers’ party.  At Zeigler’s request, Ficke had posted a bulletin at Winter Garden police headquarters, inviting all officers to attend the gathering.  Frye felt that Zeigler had contrived to have all the local police at the party and off the streets by 7:10, when he would be bringing Eunice to the store to kill her.  Her parents would arrive a few minutes later, and Charlie Mays’s appointment was less than a quarter of an hour after that.  At the same time, Edward Williams would be finding the note in the garage at Temple Grove Street.  Frye was convinced that Tommy Zeigler had planned four murders almost to the minute.

 


2              Investigators forced it  open with a screwdriver.

Nine

On the 26th, Frye went to Orange Memorial hoping to interview the suspect.  He met Ralph "Terry" Hadley III, a young local attorney whom Zeigler and his family had hired earlier that day.  Hadley was becoming known as a skilled criminal lawyer; before going into private practice he had worked under the Orange-Osceola state attorney, Robert Eagan, who would prosecute the case.

Frye asked Hadley for permission to interview Zeigler, Hadley refused.  But a day or two later Hadley did report Zeigler's version of the incident.

This is the story that Hadley related in part to Frye that day, and that Zeigler has maintained to this day:

Zeigler said that Eunice and her parents went to the store without him, in the Edwardses' Ford.  Zeigler stayed at home, waiting for Edward Williams.  According to Zeigler, the appointment with Williams was for 7:00, not 7:30, and Williams was late.  Zeigler said he left a note for Williams and went to buy bourbon for the party, driving Dunaway's car.  But he changed his mind before he got to the liquor store.  He turned around and came home.

Zeigler said that Williams was waiting for him when he returned, and they drove to the store in Williams's truck.  The store was dark when they arrived.  Zeigler walked in ahead of Williams, entering the northwest hallway, and was assaulted by at least two men as he entered the showroom.  He lost his glasses and was unable to see the darkness. He may have fired one shot from the .22 automatic at his side, but the pistol jammed, and he threw it at his assailants.  He was knocked back into the hallway, and he reached into a drawer where he had recently put the .357 Colt.  He may have fired that gun—he didn't know how many shots—and then he himself was shot and knocked to the floor, and he lost consciousness.

According to Hadley, Zeigler said that the assailants were gone when he regained consciousness at the back of the store.  He crawled along the floor near the back of the showroom, went into his office, found his spare pair of glasses, and phoned Don Ficke, who he knew would be at the Van Deventer home.  The keys with which he opened the door, when Ficke and Thompson arrived, were the set that he had given to Eunice before she left with her parents.  He had found them there in the lock.

Hadley suggested to Frye that retribution against Zeigler, not robbery, might have been the prime reason for the killings.  He said that Zeigler had been compiling information on organized loan sharking in West Orange's migrant labor camps, and had made enemies.

Zeigler's story did not address the beating death of Charlie Mays, or the fact that Zeigler's shoulder holster was found on top of Mays's dry blood splatters.  It did not explain why Edward Williams and Felton Thomas, two black men apparently unknown to each other, each had come forth with damning stories against a man whom they had no reason to dislike, much less to hate.

 

Outside Furniture Store (12/24/75)

 

 

Ten

On the 26th or 27th, sheriff’s officers and the State Attorney’s staff made two crucial decisions.

Because Don Frye was not legally qualified to testify on blood spatter evidence, the state retained Herbert MacDonell, the professor and criminalist from New York, to examine the crime scene and make a report.  MacDonell was not available until after the New Year, but the sheriff would hold the crime scene until MacDonell could fly to Orlando.

They also decided that the FBI Laboratory in Washington, D.C., would analyze and test the forensic evidence.

On the 28th, the two OCSO technicians flew to Washington with nearly one hundred pieces of evidence that had been collected in the store, at Zeigler’s home, and from the Dunaway car.  It was the first of what would be several submissions to the FBI Lab.  The specimens included pistols and bullets, blood and hair from the victims, swabs and filter paper, the store clock, and the stained car door latch.  The transmittal letter requested ballistics matching, blood typing, chemical analysis, and hair and fiber analysis.

Ordinarily that would have been the work of the Sanford Regional Crime Laboratory, which operated under the Florida Department of Law Enforcement.  But this was not an ordinary case.

Then, as now, the FBI Lab was considered the finest in the country, one of the best in the world.  Its experts were often the final word on matters of serology, ballistics and tool marks, fingerprints and shoe prints, hairs and fibers, explosives, handwriting identification, and other branches of the forensic sciences.  The lab’s services were, and are, available free to state and local police in criminal investigations.

The FBI Lab was not without drawbacks.  Its experts were generally inaccessible: when they were not busy in the laboratory they were often out of town, appearing at trials around the country.  They had to be scheduled well in advance for consultations, depositions, or trial testimony.  But their reputation was impressive.

“We want results to be as fast and accurate as possible,” OCSO Chief Deputy Leigh McEachern told reporters on December 28, explaining the decision to send evidence to Washington.1

McEachern said that he expected the two officers, Alton Evans and James Shannon, to have preliminary reports when they returned in two or three days.  That estimate proved to be absurdly optimistic.  Over the next weeks and months,

 

Orange County’s police and prosecutors learned that the term “fast” could in no sense be applied to the FBI Lab.

Speed was not the only consideration.  Some of the results, when they were finally released, became instantly controversial.  Before the trial was finished, both prosecution and defense would have reason to question the work of the nation’s finest crime laboratory.

*

The murders and the investigation dominated local news.

Central Florida’s most important print outlet was the Orlando Sentinel Star.  On Christmas Day, because of deadlines, the newspaper reported the killings at the top of its Metro pages.  The crime was described as a “robbery attempt,” and by press time the four dead had not been identified.  Sheriff’s lieutenant Bruce Churchill was quoted as saying, “It will take us a long time to determine what happened.”

Every day for the next week, the story was at the top of page one of the Sentinel Star.  Much of the reporting relied on unnamed police sources, and the tone of the articles reflected a growing skepticism about Zeigler.

In the early editions of December 26, authorities were reported to be “totally baffled about how or why the shootings occurred—although not ruling out robbery.”  The afternoon edition, however, reported, “Exhausted investigators today predicted charges will be filed almost immediately….While police first said they thought robbery was the motive in the early evening gun battle, they now say ‘there are other things to consider here.’ “

The next day, the 27th, the headline was KILLINGS SURVIVOR REFUSES TO TALK.  The lead paragraph read:  “The lone survivor and only witness to a bloody Christmas Eve massacre…refused on the advice of his lawyer Friday to answer investigators’ questions.”

Sheriff Melvin G. Colman would not comment on whether Zeigler was a suspect.  As for the robbery theory, Colman said, “We haven’t ruled out anything in the case.”

The article went on:  “Some investigators said early Friday they believed they were ready to charge a suspect.  But following an afternoon conference at the blood-spattered furniture store between Colman and Assistant State Atty. Lawson L. Lamar, it was decided to continue gathering evidence and await results of laboratory tests.”

On Sunday, the 28th, the Sentinel Star reported the existence of an unnamed “mystery witness”—Edward Williams—who was described as having gone to the police “minutes after the shootings.”    Eunice Zeigler was said to have been found at the front of the showroom, her mother in the kitchen.  By now the

robbery story was relegated to the last paragraph:  “Although detectives initially said that they thought the killings were a result of an armed robbery, they could find nothing missing from the store.”

The top story on the 29th was the decision to send evidence to the FBI.  The chief deputy, McEachern, said that no charges would be filed “in the next day or two.”

While that issue of the newspaper was on the streets, however, Frye was reviewing the evidence with his superiors and an assistant state attorney.  On the afternoon of the 29th, Frye himself signed an arrest warrant.  He and McEachern were among the official party that arrested Zeigler in his bed at West Orange Memorial and formally charged him with the four murders.   He was no longer a suspect, but a defendant.

The next day, the photo at the top of page one was of Tommy Zeigler hiding his face behind a blanket as he was taken into custody.

*

Peter de Manio, a circuit court judge, read the charges against Zeigler at a special proceedings held on the 30th in his hospital room.  The Sentinel Star described him as “ashen-faced” when he listened to the accusations. 

 “Zeigler showed no emotion as the judge spoke,” wrote reporter Paul Jenkins.  “His eyes remained fixed on de Manio and he did not glance around the tiny hospital room crammed with newsmen, court clerks, and sheriff’s deputies.”

In the accompanying photograph Zeigler appeared impassive, stolid: perhaps stunned.  De Manio asked him if he understood the charges against him, and Zeigler whispered, “Yes.”  De Manio explained that the penalty for each of the four counts was life imprisonment, or death.

On that day, the question of a death sentence was moot.  Not since 1964 had the state executed anyone in its electric chair at Florida State Prison.  In 1972, the U.S. Supreme Court had declared the state’s death penalty to be unconstitutional.

But the state was preparing to argue otherwise.  In the spring, Florida would ask the Supreme Court to uphold a sentence of death against Charles William Proffitt, a thirty-year-old warehouseman convicted of murdering a high school wrestling coach during a burglary.  The decision, when it was announced in July, would have huge implications for the nearly seventy men who still remained on Death Row, and for Tommy Zeigler.

Eleven

The preliminary hearing in Florida v. Zeigler was scheduled for January 16.  Florida law required that a defendant either be indicted or be given a preliminary hearing within twenty-one days of arrest.  The state attorney, Robert Eagan, chose a preliminary hearing.  The deadline was January 18, a Sunday.  So Friday, January 16, was the last practical day the hearing could be held.  Otherwise Zeigler would have to be released, though he could be arrested again later.

The state attorney's office needed all the time it could get.  So far the FBI Lab had not returned any results.  In particular, there were no findings from the ballistics section.  The prosecution hoped to show that Eunice and her parents had been killed by Tommy Zeigler's pistols.  But until the FBI Lab came back with its report, none of the recovered bullets could be matched to any of the eight firearms. Professor MacDonell studied the crime scene on January 7, after which police relinquished the store to the defense.  But MacDonell's report would not be ready in time for the hearing.

Frye and Denny Martin continued to work.

Thomas Hale, an acquaintance of the Zeiglers, told Frye that at around 7:15 P.M. on Christmas Eve he had seen Tommy and Eunice at Route 50 and Dillard.  Hale said he was in the inner southbound lane of Dillard, waiting for the light to change, when Tommy made a left turn off Route 50.  The two cars passed within three feet of each other, with Zeigler continuing north up Dillard, toward the store.  Hale said that Eunice was beside Tommy in the front seat.

This was a breakthrough.  Hale was the first witness to place Tommy and Eunice together near the furniture store at the time of the murders.  The testimony contradicted Zeigler's assertion that he had stayed at home while Eunice drove to the store with her parents.

By inference, Hale's story supported the accounts of Felton Thomas and Edward Williams.  The left turn that Hale noticed, from Route 50 onto Dillard, suggested the same indirect route to the store that both Williams and Thomas described.

Frye interviewed Rogenia Thomas,1 one of the two young women who had met Williams outside the Kentucky Fried Chicken.  She basically corroborated Williams's story, although later there was some disagreement about whether he had actually mentioned Zeigler's name to her.


1              Apparently no relation to Felton Thomas.

 

Frye and Denny Martin tested a key point in Williams's story. Williams had said that he had entered the building from the back parking compound, walked up the northwest hallway, and stepped out into the dark showroom.  There, according to Williams, Zeigler pulled the trigger on a gun three times in an attempt to kill him.  Frye wanted to test Williams's claim that he could identify Zeigler and a pistol in the darkness.

One evening after nightfall, Frye and Martin turned off all the store lights.  First Martin stood holding a  pistol where Zeigler would have been standing, a few feet inside the showroom.  Frye came up the hall, as Williams said he had done.  Then the two detectives switched roles, and Martin walked up the hall while Frye held the gun in the showroom.

The results satisfied Frye.  He was able to testify at least four times—at a deposition, the preliminary hearing, the grand jury hearing and the trial—that he recognized Martin and the pistol in the darkness.

Frye was intrigued by Zeigler's account of a brawl in the back of the showroom.  Did Zeigler have any injuries besides the gun-shot? Frye and an assistant state attorney depose Dr. Gleason, the only physician to have closely examined Zeigler between Christmas Eve and the 29th.

Frye wanted to know whether Zeigler had complained of head injuries or severe headaches.  Gleason said that Zeigler did have a slight swelling and tender area at the lower right of his skull, but the skin was not broken.  Gleason also said that Zeigler had complained of some soreness in  his right index finger—his trigger finger.  This interested Frye.  He thought of the bent trigger guard on one of the RG revolvers.  Frye believed that the RG had been damaged during the killings, probably when Perry Edwards swung the wooden footstool to defend himself; whoever had been holding the pistol could have sustained such an injury to his trigger finger.

Frye also learned that Zeigler's service in the Army Reserve had been with a Medical Corps unit.  Here Zeigler would have been exposed to the special knowledge of anatomy that would have allowed him to shoot himself in the abdomen without jeopardizing his life.

Edward Williams and Felton Thomas were now in protective custody. Thomas had disappeared from Christmas Day to December 30.  When he was found at a friend's house in the town of Kissimmee, south of Orlando, Thomas asked police for  protection.  He told them that he had fled because he was in fear of his life.  (WITNESS AT KILLINGS BEGS FOR JAIL was the next day's headline in the Sentinel Star.) Now Thomas and Williams were under guard, living in motel rooms provided by the state attorney's office.

Zeigler, through Hadley, identified six of the eight pistols.

Zeigler said that the .357 Colt, which he admitted firing, normally was kept at his home.  But he had hidden it in the hallway, supposedly as a defense

against the Ski Mask bandits, the gang of armed thieves who at the time were robbing businesses throughout central Florida.  This was the pistol found near Perry Edwards.

The .22 Smith & Wesson Escort, which Zeigler said he had fired once before it jammed, was on loan to Zeigler from Don Ficke.  Zeigler carried this little semiautomatic at his belt.  It was one of the two guns found near Charlie Mays's feet.

The .38 Burgo derringer, also found near Mays's feet, was normally kept under the cash register at the counter.  Zeigler could not explain how it ended up on the terrazzo floor with an expended shell in the top chamber.

The Securities Industries .38 also was used for Zeigler's personal protection.  He said he usually kept the pistol and a shoulder holster in the custom metal writing desk built into the dashboard of his pickup truck, which he used for making collections on rent and furniture accounts.  This was the gun the Edward Williams brought to the Winter Garden police after Zeigler apparently had tried to kill him.  Zeigler did not explain how it had ended up in Williams's possession.2

The .38 Smith & Wesson belonged to Zeigler and normally was kept against a file cabinet in the store's customer service area.  Zeigler did not explain how it had ended up in Curtis Dunaway's car, in Zeigler's garage, where Jimmy Yawn found it on the night of the 24th.

The .22 Beretta belonged to Zeigler, and had been found where he usually kept it, in his desk drawer.

According to Hadley, Zeigler had never seen and could not explain the two .38 RG revolvers found near the head of Charlie Mays.

Early in January, Thomas showed Frye and Martin the remote orange grove where he said Zeigler had driven them and they had shot the revolvers.  Martin and a second deputy, James Lee Bryan, brought a crew of trusties from the Orange County Jail and began to dig for bullets in the earth.  On January 12, after two days of sifting dirt and sand, Bryan reported that they had recovered a single .38 slug.

If that bullet could be matched to any of the guns from the store, it would lend great substance to Thomas's story.  Without ballistics testing, though, the slug meant next to nothing.  The OCSO shipped it to Washington, where it was added to the earlier submissions.  The chance was nil that it might be tested before the preliminary hearing.

As the date of the hearing approached, only one set of results came back.  These were the test swabs for gunshot residue, taken from the hands of the four murder victims.  The swabs had been submitted to the state's Sanford Laboratory rather than to the FBI.

__________________________________________

2    The Securities Industries .38 was chrome-plated.  The .357 Colt found near Perry Edwards was stainless-steel, and also bright.  All the other Handguns were black or dark blue.

The results did not advance the state's case.  Chemical examination for the metals barium, antimony, and lead, which are used in the manufacture of cartridge primer caps, suggested that Charlie Mays, Perry Edwards, and Virginia Edwards all had recently handled or fired weapons. That information was not released to the defense until April.

The January 16 hearing would be the first public airing of the evidence against Tommy Zeigler.  But the heart of the evidence, the possible physical proof that Zeigler had killed four people on Christmas Eve, was still in the FBI Lab unexamined, when the two sides entered Courtroom E of the Orange County Courthouse.

Twelve

An Orange County judge, Frank Kaney, listened to nearly six hours of testimony in the preliminary hearing on January 16.

Zeigler had recovered from his wound and was brought by elevator from the county jail, in the courthouse building.  A sheriff’s deputy told reporters, “We’ve received some thirdhand, hearsay-type threats against Zeigler.”

There was no jury.  Preliminary hearings usually are less formal than a trial, and the rules of evidence are somewhat relaxed.

In the absence of physical evidence, the state pinned its case on Felton Thomas and Edward Williams.  They were still in protective custody; each was escorted into the courtroom by a pair of sheriff’s deputies.

Thomas again gave his name as Thomas Felton. Assistant State Attorney Lawson Lamar led him through virtually the same story he had told Frye and Jenkins in the early hours of Christmas Day.  A crucial point came early in his direct testimony, when Thomas told of sitting with Charlie Mays in the blue van, parked behind the store:

Q   (LAMAR):  Did you say a guy drove up to your car?

A   (THOMAS):  Right.

Q:  And did you all talk with him?

A:  He told Charlie to come around and ride with him a minute.

Q:  He told Charlie to come and ride with him?

A:  Yes.

Q:  Who was this guy?  Had you ever seen him before?

A:  No, I haven’t.

Q:  Is that guy in this room today anywhere?  Look around the room.

A:  The guy right there.

He pointed out Tommy Zeigler, seated between his two attorneys.

The Zeiglers had retained Ed Kirkland, an experienced trial lawyer from Orlando, to assist Terry Hadley.  Kirkland, like almost everyone else except the police and the prosecution, was hearing this account for the first time.  Under Kirkland’s cross-examination, Thomas admitted that he had drunk two or three beers in the late afternoon before he met Mays.  But Kirkland did not shake him from his story.

Edward Williams followed Thomas to the stand.  Williams, too, remained mostly consistent to his original account.  He described again how Zeigler had

 

leveled a gun at him as he entered the rear of the showroom: “[J]ust as I walk in, he turned around, and it snapped it three times, pop, like that.”

Q  (LAMAR):  What did you see?

A  (WILLIAMS)  I saw, it looked like it was something like—he had this thing he was holding, and I saw the gun, and he had something holding it, and he was going pop, pop, pop three times.

Q:  Was this a gun going off, or clicking?

A:  Just the hammer hitting, the gun didn’t go off.

Q:  Did you see what color the gun was?

A:  That night I didn’t see what color it was.

Q:  Was it dull, or was it shiny?  Do you remember that?

A:  No, I couldn’t tell you whether it was shiny.  I saw him pointing it on me.  And then I holler, I say, “For God sake, Tommy, don’t kill me.” . . . And I run back out the hallway, back outside the door.  When I got out the door, I went to open the gate, to get out the gate, and I found the gate was locked.

Q:  The gate was locked?

A:  So I turned there, and he came up, and he said, “Edward, I didn’t know it was you.”

Kirkland’s cross-examination was aggressive.  Lawson Lamar interrupted a series of questions to complain that Kirkland was badgering the witness.  A few minutes later, Kirkland focused on the key moment in the store; according to Williams’s account, the door where he entered the showroom was only a few feet from where Charlie Mays lay dead.

Kirkland’s voice became louder, and his questions were rapid and insistent:

Q  (KIRKLAND):  Where was Mr. Tommy when you got in the building as far as you got in?  Where was he standing?

A  (WILLIAMS):  When I got in, he was standing just straight ahead of me.

Q:  Did you see a body on the floor just six or seven feet from him?

A:  No, sir, I didn’t see no body.

Q:  Why didn’t you see a body when it was within five or six feet of you?

A:  I didn’t see no body.  When he called me, I was looking at him.  He said, “Edward, come on, Edward.”  And I said, “I’m coming.”  And when I said, “I’m coming,” I mean in the main building.

Q:  Was it too dark to see a body in that building?

A:  I wasn’t looking for a body.

Q:  Was it too dark to observe a body on the floor, if there had been one?

A:  Maybe.  If I was looking for one, I might have seen one, but I wasn’t looking for no body.

Q:  How dark was it in there?

A:  It was clear enough for me to see the person ahead of me.

Q:  What light was there available in that store?

A:  It was clear light from the outside of the store.  I could see a clear light inside; I couldn’t see nothing in the hall, but in the main store it was clear enough that I could see if anybody was there.

Q:  In other words, you say right in this open hallway there’s absolutely no visibility, that it’s dark, but once you got even with this workbench, you could see?

A:  When I got inside, it was clear enough that I could see Tommy, Mr. Tommy.  And looking for a dead body, I wasn’t looking for nothing; I didn’t expect to see nothing.

Q:  Just answer my questions.

A:  Yes, sir, I just couldn’t see—

Q:  Just answer my questions.

Kirkland shifted to a new line of questions, implying that Williams was in need of money.  Then he went back to the gun that Williams brought to the police.

Q:  And you say you had a weapon then, a pistol?

A:  No sir, I didn’t have no pistol?

Q:  He gave it to you, didn’t he?

A:  He gave me a pistol after he came out.

Q:  So you had a weapon then.  He came out of that building, and you say it was in Mr. Zeigler’s hands?

A:  He gave me the weapon, yes.

Q:  So you were in the building that night, were you not?

LAWSON LAMAR:  Your Honor, this is repetitious.

JUDGE KANEY:  I think he’s entitled to ask him questions one at a time.

Q:  What I am saying is, you were broke, and you had an opportunity to kill these people, and you had a weapon in your hand that you turned in to the police, did you not, Mr. Williams?

A:  No sir, I didn’t kill nobody since I been born.  I got the weapon from Mr. Tommy Zeigler.

Don Frye summed up the evidence against Zeigler.  He testified to the bloody footprints, to the holster found on top of the blood spatters, to the cache of paper bags and ammunition and the blue towel found in the cabinet near the loading dock.  He described the apparent bloodstains found in Curtis Dunaway’s car.

Without lab results, Frye could not testify that the stains actually were blood.  Without a ballistics report, he could not match any of the fatal shots to the guns

found in the store.  He testified about the insurance policies, but under cross-examination he admitted that in searching Zeigler’s papers and records he had found no evidence that Zeigler or his family was in any financial difficulty.

Judge Kaney announced his decision after a short recess.  He said that the defendant would be bound over for a grand jury.  But he added that Zeigler was eligible for bond, which he set at $40,000.  Considering the family’s means, it was an outright release from custody.

Lawson Lamar protested.  Kaney stood firm.

“The state didn’t present a clear case against Zeigler,” Kaney explained in an interview about a week later.  “They showed me very little hard evidence—they didn’t show me enough to deny bond.”

Zeigler chose to remain in jail over the weekend, rather than pay the $4,000 bondsman’s fee that would have bought his immediate release.  On Monday morning his mother posted the full amount after cashing some certificates of deposit.  Tommy Zeigler was a free man again.

Thirteen

One day after Tommy Zeigler’s release, police investigators traced the ownership of the two .38 RG revolvers.  They had been bought new the previous June from a pawnshop in Orlando.  The purchaser was Frank Smith, a black twenty-seven year old cab driver who was a friend of Edward Williams.

Smith told Don Frye that he had bought the guns for Tommy Zeigler, whom he had never met.  He said that in May he had spoken to Zeigler when Williams telephoned Zeigler from Smith's apartment.  According to Smith, Zeigler wanted two revolvers that could not be traced.  Smith said he brought the pistols two or three weeks later and  immediately phoned Zeigler at the furniture store.  The next day, according to Smith, Edward Williams gave him $159 from Zeigler and took a paper bag containing the two weapons.

Edward Williams corroborated Smith's story.  According to Williams, Zeigler first approached him about buying "hot" guns in March or April 1975.  Williams recommended Smith, on the assumption that a cab driver might know a source of stolen property.  Williams confirmed that he delivered a sealed envelope—presumably containing money—from Zeigler to Smith in June, and that he had brought the paper bag from Smith's apartment to Zeigler's house.  He said that Tommy was not home when he delivered the package, but that he gave it to Eunice.  Later Zeigler told him that he had received the package.

This satisfied Frye.  It seemed to prove that Zeigler actually had been planning the crime for more that half a year.  All eight guns in the case—six from the store, one from Curtis Dunaway's Oldsmobile, and the one that Edward Williams turned in to police the night of the murders—now were tied to Tommy Zeigler.

Frye continued to work exclusively on the case.  Since about the first of the year he had been  interviewing the Zeiglers' friends and neighbors, acquaintances and enemies.  Frye wanted to know more about the marriage of Tommy and Eunice: a happily married man does not plot for months to murder his wife.

Over several weeks, Frye compiled a portrait of a stifled, dissatisfied wife in an unequal marriage.  He believed that Eunice had been unhappy, living next door to a meddling mother-in-law.  He was told that Beulah Zeigler was an overbearing woman who dominated both Eunice and Tom senior.  Eunice's beautician told Frye that Tommy berated her for running the air conditioner, and that there was friction between wife and mother.

Frye heard frightening stories about Tommy Zeigler as a youth. Unhappy that his parents had sold the family home, he returned there and vandalized the house after the new owners moved in.  He had cut the leg off a dog, the family pet. 

One informant claimed that Zeigler had tried to drown his father in a lake while Beulah looked on from the shore.

Frye also heard rumors that Tommy Zeigler was a homosexual.  This aspect of the case appears to have surfaced as early as the night of the murders.  According to Don Ficke, Robert Thompson speculated to Frye and other officers that the crime might have been sexually motivated.  The unusual position of Charlie Mays's pants, pulled down from his waist with the fly open, seemed to suggest some sexual component to the murders.  And as he interviewed residents of Winter Garden, Frye kept encountering the rumor that Zeigler and some of his close friends were part of a homosexual ring involving prominent personalities in West Orange.  He was told that Eunice had discovered her husband having sex with one of his male friends, and that she had decided to expose his secret and leave him, perhaps returning to Georgia with her parents after Christmas.

Tommy Zeigler's stature in the community was a powerful argument against his guilt.  Even $500,000 in insurance benefits was not a completely compelling motive: Zeigler stood to forfeit much more than that, even in strictly financial terms, if he was convicted of murder. He had so much to lose.

But the weight of the argument shifted if Zeigler was a secret homosexual.  If he practiced deceit every day of his life, the idea that he might shoot himself in the abdomen to cover up his crimes was not so farfetched.  Moreover, all the Zeigler prized—his reputation, his businesses, his influence—rested in conservative Winter Garden.  If he was revealed as a homosexual, he would become an instant pariah in his hometown.  He would lose everything.

And Tommy Zeigler had so much to lose.

Fourteen


In February the FBI Lab began to release its test findings.

Ballistics examinations showed that the five bullets recovered from the bodies had been fired by two or three different pistols.  The bullet in the brain of Eunice Zeigler was too badly deformed to be identified with a specific gun.   However, its rifling twists and grooves were consistent with having been fired from either of the two RG revolvers.  The two killing shots to the head of Perry Edwards had come from the Securities Industries .38, Tommy Zeigler’s chrome-plated “truck gun,” which Edward Williams gave to the police.  The same pistol had also fired the killing shot into the head of Virginia Edwards.  But the slug found in Mrs. Edwards’s chest was from one of the two RGs.

The slug recovered from the orange grove could not be linked to any specific gun.  However, it shared the unusual rifling characteristics of the Securities .38.  This was also true of the .38 slug that had disabled the wall clock.  Several other slugs recovered from around the store were generically identified with the two RG pistols.

Eight empty cartridges from the Securities .38 were identified from the bags in the cabinet at the rear of the store.1

Of the other weapons involved:

Ÿ       The Colt .375 magnum found near the feet of Mr. Edwards seemed to have been fired six times without being reloaded.

Ÿ       The .22 Smith & Wesson Escort automatic found at the feet of Charlie Mays apparently had been fired once before it jammed.

Ÿ       The .38 Burgo derringer had fired one shot.  The two bloody cartridges found in Zeigler’s desk drawer probably had misfired in this weapon.

Ÿ       Apparently neither the .22 automatic found in Zeigler’s office desk nor the .38 Smith & Wesson from the Dunaway car had been fired.

The fact that Mrs. Edwards had been shot by two different guns suggested to Frye that she had run toward the front of the store after being shot through the chest.  Frye believed that Zeigler, having fired all five shots from one of the RG

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1              In order to fire eight shots or more, this revolver must have been reloaded during the crime. The chambers were empty when Edward Williams brought it to the Winter Garden police headquarters. The killer must have dumped out the spent cartridges and then placed them in the bag where they were found. For some reason he failed to reload a second time, although live .38 cartridges were found in the bag along with the empty hulls.

 

pistols, used his truck gun to execute Perry Edwards, then stalked Mrs. Edwards and killed her with the same pistol.  Mrs. Edwards fled to within a few feet of the large showroom windows at the front of the store.  While her husband battled Tommy Zeigler at the back of the room, she might have escaped by breaking a window with any of the several lamps or chairs that were within her reach.  But she did not.  Frye believed that she was paralyzed with fear when Zeigler, having finished Perry Edwards, hunted her down in the darkness and killed 

No usable fingerprints were found on any of the guns.  All but one appeared to have been wiped clean.  The exception was the Colt .357, which Frye believed Zeigler had flung to the back of the showroom after shooting himself.  On that weapon the examiner developed two partial latent fingerprints, which were of no value for identification.  However, Zeigler’s palm print was identified on one of the grocery bags found in the cabinet at the rear of the store.2

The results of the blood tests were disappointing.  Blood typing was inconclusive on many specimens, including Zeigler’s shoes, the telephone, and the tip of the rubber glove.  No blood was found on the door handle of the Dunaway Oldsmobile, and the amount on the headrest was too slight to be typed.  No blood was found on the towel taken from the washing machine in the garage at 75 Temple Grove Drive.  Blood on the Holiday Inn towel, seized from the Zeigler’s bathroom, could not be identified as human.

Perry Edwards, Charlie Mays, and Eunice Zeigler all had Type A blood, while both Tommy Zeigler and Virginia Edwards had Type O.  Frye had assumed that Zeigler had left the blood trail from the end of the counter to the front door.  But none of the specimens taken from the apparent trial were Type O.  Of those that could be identified, every one was A.

A February 18 article in the Sentinel Star quoted Chief Deputy Leigh McEachern:  “Their [the FBI’s] findings are consistent with our hypothesis on what happened at the W. T. Zeigler furniture store.”

Not all the results were disappointing.  Significantly, no O blood was found at the back of the store, where Tommy Zeigler claimed to have been shot. Tests of Zeigler’s shirt and trousers showed a preponderance of Type A.3  The heavy blood around his left underarm was A, and A blood was speckled across the front of the shirt.  In spite of his wound, Tommy Zeigler apparently had managed to collect mostly other people’s blood on his own garments.

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2   A latent print is one that is invisible until it is developed by chemical processes.  Usable prints on pistols are said to be rare, since lifts are difficult to make from the film of oil on most weapons.  But latent prints may be found on paper even after several years, since paper retains amino acids from the skin

3   One of the stains eventually found on Zeigler’s trousers was a dark wood stain.

 

*

Herbert MacDonell’s report on the crime scene, submitted on March 9, lent unqualified support to the state’s case against Zeigler.  The findings of the criminalist from New York State matched Don Frye’s reconstruction and conclusions, almost point for point.[pagebrea

Professor MacDonell confirmed Frye’s theory that Charlie Mays had been killed at least a quarter of an hour after Perry Edwards.  “…Mr. Mays was not in the store at the time,” MacDonell wrote.  “The basis for this conclusion is the fact that when Mr. Mays was beaten his blood spatters did not mix with the already dried, swiped blood patterns that resulted from Mr. Edwards’s movement throughout the rear of the store.”


MacDonell supported more of Frye’s conclusions in a passage subheaded ADDITIONAL CONSIDERATIONS.  It is quoted here in full, except for references to some numbered photographs.  The emphasis in the second paragraph is his:

Shoe prints made with blood are evident in several areas of the Zeigler Furniture Store.  While some of these poorly defined markings could have been made by Mr. Edwards’s shoes during his extensive struggle around the rear portion of the store, no bloody sneaker prints similar to Mr. Mays’s sneakers were detected.  The person who made the bloody shoe prints certainly was in several places throughout the store—after considerable bloodshed, not before!

Mr. William T. Zeigler left a rather well defined trail of blood from the general area of the telephone on the counter to the front of the store. No similar such pattern was evident from the rear of the store where he was allegedly shot to the counter.  The amount of blood on the telephone certainly suggests he was bleeding prior to using it.  The absence of a blood trail to the telephone should be questioned. 

 The significance of Mr. Mays’s trousers and underpants being pulled down should be considered.  If this was the act of a homosexual, could such an opinion be helpful in understanding the kind of person who committed these crimes?  A forensic psychiatrist may be worth consulting on this.

 The suggestion that Zeigler was bleeding before he used the telephone contradicted Frye’s belief that Zeigler had shot himself after calling the Van Deventer home, assured that help was on the way.  Otherwise, MacDonell completely substantiated Frye’s theories of the case, even on the issue of homosexuality.  Frye and the rest of the prosecution had reason to feel confident two and a half weeks later, on March 25, when Robert Eagan himself presented the case to a grand jury at the Orange County Courthouse in Orlando.

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5  In fact, none of Zeigler’s Type O blood was found in the drops and smears that led to the front door.  MacDonell admitted later that he had written his report without reference to the FBI test results and without examining most of the victims’ clothing.


Table Four

 WEAPONS IN EVIDENCE

1.   Colt .357 magnum six-shot revolver—found with broken handle grip near feet of Perry Edwards, six empty cartridges in chambers; two lead bullets recovered in the store; bought by Zeigler, October 31, 1974, and kept in rear hallway desk.

2.    .22 Smith & Wesson Escort automatic—found near Charlie Mays, one empty cartridge on floor,  several live rounds in clip, one live round jammed in chamber; no bullets recovered; loaned or given to Zeigler by Ficke, carried by Zeigler. 

3.   .38 Burgo derringer—found near Mays, one empty cartridge in top chamber, one live round found in bottom; one lead bullet recovered, two misfired cartridges with bloodstains found in desk of Zeigler; owned by Zeigler, kept under cash register in store.

4.    .38 RG five-shot revolver—found near Mays, five empty cartridges in chambers: lead bullet found in torso of Virginia Edwards: bought by Frank Smith, June 20, 1975.

5.    .38 RG five-shot revolver—found near Mays with bent trigger guard, two empty cartridges, three live  rounds in chamber; bought by Frank Smith, June 20, 1975.

6.    .38 Securities Industries six-shot revolver—surrendered to police by Edward Williams, cocked, with all chambers empty; several lead bullets found in store, empty cartridges found in bag in storeroom cabinet, lead bullets found in Perry Edwards and Virginia Edwards; purchased by Zeigler, October 31, 1974, kept in “truck desk” of Zeigler’s pickup. 

7.     .38 Smith & Wesson six-shot revolver—found in Curtis Dunaway’s Oldsmobile, six live rounds in chamber; no bullets or empty cartridges recovered; bought by Zeigler, October 31, 1974, kept in a file cabinet of store counter.

8.    .22 Beretta automatic—found in Zeigler’s desk drawer, no bullets or empty cartridges; owned by  Zeigler and kept in desk.

Several wounds to Mr. Edwards and Charlie Mays were “through-and-through” shots and could not be traced to any one gun.  Also, several bullets exited the exterior walls and were never recovered.  The Securities revolver and the two RG revolvers apparently were the chief instruments of mayhem.  The Securities .38 fired the close-range shots that killed Mr. and Mrs. Edwards.  The shot that stopped the clock and the orange grove bullet were generically traced to this weapon, from which at least nine shots were fired.  The shot that killed Eunice Zeigler probably was fired by one of the two RG revolvers.  Five other lead bullets

 recovered around the store were traced to the RG pistols.  There is no evidence that the Smith & Wesson .38 or the Beretta automatic were fired.

 

Fifteen

Through most of the day on March 25 and part of the following day, Eagan brought forth a series of witnesses, thirteen in all, who laid out the state's evidence against Tommy Zeigler.

Many of these witnesses had appeared at the preliminary hearing in January.  In particular, Felton Thomas and Edward Williams would be telling their stories under oath for the second time.  This day, though, they would face no hostile cross-examination.  Grand jury hearing are closed to all but the prosecutor, the witnesses, a court reporter, and the jurors themselves.  The atmosphere is usually informal.  Jurors sometimes interject questions and observations, and there is no judge or defense attorney to insist on rules of evidence.1 In essence a grand jury hearing is a sales pitch, and jurors are the prospective buyers.  They may be skeptical, but a good prosecutor, like a good salesman, knows how to overcome resistance.

The privilege of prosecuting Orange County's most celebrated murder case belonged to Robert Eagan by right as well as rank.  He was smart, tough, and compelling.  He grasped the subtleties of argument. He also possessed a certain physical presence: he was tall and substantial, and he moved with a slightly shambling grace.  His deep voice had a gravelly timbre.  He projected command and authority. There would be no mutinies on any of Bob Eagan's grand juries.

Eagan established the crime and the scene with his first witness. The associate medical examiner, Dr. Guillermo Ruiz, described the store layout and showed photo slides of the bodies from the store and at the morgue.

Russell Courtney, an agent of the Life and Casualty Company of Tennessee, testified that Tommy Zeigler had a four-year-old term policy on his own life, in the amount of $200.000.  Courtney said that on September 9, 1975, Zeigler applied for $250,000 of term life insurance on his wife.  Courtney said that he spoke to Eunice and that she was aware of the application.  The policy cost about $600 a year, to be paid monthly through an automatic bank withdrawal, and Tommy Zeigler was the beneficiary.

George Henry, an agent of Gulf Life, told the jury that Eunice was present when Tommy applied for a $250,000 term policy on her life.  The date was September 11, and Zeigler did not tell him of any other policy on Eunice.  But Gulf Life did discover Life and Casualty's policy on Eunice, and issued its policy only after Tommy Zeigler agreed to bring his own insurance up to the level of his

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1    However, defense attorneys may later seek to have grand jury testimony suppressed from later hearings.


wife's.  At that point, Henry said, Zeigler bought a $250,000 policy on his own life.Don Ficke testified that he and his wife stopped by 75 Temple Grove Drive three times.  The first time, a little after 8:05, they saw only one vehicle: Tommy Zeigler's pickup truck, parked near the garage in the left side of the driveway.  On their second trip, a few minutes later, Ficke saw Edward Williams in his truck, parked behind Zeigler's. The third time, Williams's truck was gone.  Zeigler's truck was still in the driveway, and Curtis Dunaway's Oldsmobile now was parked in the closed garage.  He said that early in December he had loaned Zeigler the .22 automatic pistol that was found near Charlie Mays.  He said that Zeigler admired the gun, but that that model was no longer being manufactured.

A juror wanted to know whether Zeigler had asked for Ficke's help since the incident.  Ficke said that he had not, and that he himself avoided any contact with Zeigler.  Apparently the crime had ended their friendship.

Robert Thompson testified about finding Zeigler at the store and bringing him to the hospital.  He repeated his questioning of Zeigler in the emergency room, how Zeigler had told him of shooting Charlie Mays.  He described finding the first three bodies in the store after he left Zeigler at the hospital.

JUROR: When you examined Tommy Zeigler at the hospital as to his wounds, was there any indication of any powder burns or anything on his clothes?

THOMPSON: Yes, sir.  The point of entry of the projectile where it went through the front of his shirt, there is a large hole burned in the shirt just about that big [indicating].  It was black and burned around the edges.  The entrance wound itself had no blood coming from it at all.  It was also burned.  The blood in the back was dried on his body.  In fact, I had a white shirt on the night that I put him on my shoulder, and that white shirt had very little blood on the shoulder and just a little bit on my left cuff.  It was not bleeding.

JUROR: You indicated that that shot came from a very close range.

THOMPSON: Yes, sir.  It is my opinion that it was extremely close, yes, sir.

Thompson said that on the day before Christmas Eve, a Winter Garden police dispatcher told him over the police radio that Zeigler wanted to see him.  A few minutes later, Zeigler arrived at Thompson's office with a small box of candy for Thompson's children.  Then Zeigler invited him to the Van Deventers' party.

THOMPSON: I said, I don't know anything about it.  I wasn't invited.  He said, well, I want you to be there.  I will have Mary, who is Mrs. Van Deventer, call you in the morning and invite you.  So, I said, okay...I said if nothing was happening, I might try to get over for a few minutes....The next morning,

Mrs. Van Deventer did call and invite me there.  I told her the same thing, that if circumstances allowed, then.  I would try to ease in for a few minutes.

A juror wanted to know more about Zeigler and the party.

JUROR: Chief Thompson, I understand that this is a party that is given every year by Attorney Van Deventer for the police of West Orange County. Why was Mr. Zeigler so wrapped up in it?  Was he a policeman?

THOMPSON: I don't know.  I have no idea....This is just hearsay, but they say he [Van Deventer] used to have a Christmas Eve open house.  I have never been to one....

JUROR: I still don't understand Mr. Zeigler's connection if he is not a policeman.

THOMPSON: I don't know.

Thomas Hale told of seeing Zeigler with Eunice just after 7:00 P.M. on Christmas Eve, making a left turn from Route 50 onto Dillard Street.  He said Zeigler was driving "a light-colored big Oldsmobile."

Curtis Dunaway testified about seeing Zeigler together with the Mays family, in the store the morning of the 24th.  Dunaway did not know what took place between Zeigler and Charlie Mays.  He related closing the store that evening, changing cars with Tommy Zeigler, and later being summoned to the store to identify the bodies.  Bob Eagan's questioning was brisk and pointed:

Q: (EAGAN): Mr. Dunaway, had you injured yourself in any way or bled in the area of your neck or the back or your head?

A: (DUNAWAY): No, sir.

Q: Do you have any account for the bloodstain that was found on the headrest of your automobile by the law enforcement officers?

A: No, sir, I do not.

Q: The last you were in your automobile that day was when you left it there at the Zeigler residence?

A: Yes, sir.

Q: Do you have any explanation, or can you give us any reason why the law enforcement officers found blood on a tissue in the backseat of your automobile?

A: No, sir, I cannot.

Felton Thomas repeated the story he had told at the preliminary hearing.  Edward Williams followed him to the stand and was mostly consistent with his first testimony, although this time, in describing the scene in the back parking lot, he added that Zeigler got down on his knees to beg him to come into the store.

WILLIAMS:...I was moving around the fence so maybe I could jump the fence.  I was scared, you know, he kept trying to pull me and hug me so much.  I keep pushing him off.  In the southwest corner of the fence, there is a big box there.  So, I made towards there.  I thought maybe I could get over the fence.  When I got over to the boxcar, the lights were shining bright from Winter Garden [Inn] there.  He come over standing by the box, and he kneeled down on one knee, pleading for me to go in.  I saw the blood on his face, spots of blood.

Q: He got on his knees?

A: That is what he did.  He say, Edward for God's sake, come and go with me, please.  I said I ain't going in there.  You try to kill me, and I ain't going....

Mattie Mays briefly told the jurors that her husband had agreed with Zeigler to buy a television on credit, at a price of $ 128, and that Zeigler had made a 7:30 appointment to meet Charlie at the store.

Near the end of her testimony, jurors asked a series of questions that referred to the money found in May's pockets.

Q: (JUROR): Did Charlie go to the jai alai?

A: (MRS. MAYS): Yes.  He went the night before that.

Q: Did he win any money?

A: Yes, he did, because I was there with him.

Q: Did he win $400?

A: Yes, he won $420.  That is how we did our Christmas shopping.

Q: (EAGAN): Did Charlie own a gun?

A: He was scared of guns.

Q: (JUROR): That night, did Charlie have any money in his pocket?

A: No, he didn't, because he didn't ask me for any.

With her testimony about the television, Mattie Mays provided the last important piece of the case against Zeigler.  In a few hours Eagan had assembled it all: the insurance, the evidence of careful planning, and Zeigler's actions on the night of the murders as supplied by Felton Thomas and Edward Williams.  But the mosaic could still be confusing. Eagan needed someone to correlate the different time lines and flesh out the case with details of the investigation.

Don Frye was Eagan's clinching witness.  Eagan immediately asked him, "Can you wrap up these different time sequences for us and sort of show the events as they transpired?"

Frye answered with a long narrative that Eagan interrupted only briefly.  It is still the most detailed explanation of the reasoning behind the prosecution of Tommy Zeigler.

Frye told the jurors that Tommy Zeigler had been planning the crime since the previous June: "So, this was thought out pretty well." He said that Zeigler talked his wife and her parents into going to the store on Christmas Eve.  He used the Van Deventers' party to ensure that at 7:10 he "would have all the policemen isolated at one location, and nobody would be patrolling the streets of Winter Garden; that he could have free access from his house to the store without being observed by somebody that would recognize him later."

He led the jurors through his blood-spatter observations and his reconstruction of the crime.  He correlated Felton Thomas's visit to Temple Grove Drive with Williams's observation of the two passengers in Zeigler's car.  He described the fatal assault on Mays.  Zeigler's arrival back at 75 Temple Grove after having killed his fourth victim, and the attempt to kill Edward Williams.

He displayed photographs as he told of comparing Zeigler's shoes to the bloody footprints:

"When I recovered Zeigler's clothing, I took the shoes myself and did an overlay of the print that we had lifted.  It matched.  They matched Tommy Zeigler's shoe prints.  There were other shoe prints of Tommy leading away from the body of Mr. Edwards....This is another shoe print of the area where Mr. Edwards was struggling.....This photograph shows the shoe impression again.  This was caused by a dripping of blood from Edwards and Mr. Zeigler could not get his balance and continued the assault.  He stepped in it again.  This is another heel print.  We found these throughout that floor area all over the floor."

Zeigler, Frye said, had shot himself after the phone call to the Van Deventer home.  The proof of this is that when Ted Van Deventer spoke to  him.  Zeigler was "calm and not shaken."

Frye continued:

"Ficke got on the phone and he [Zeigler] said, I've been shot. Get to the store.  I have been shot.  Now he was real excited.  Like I said, when he talked to Van Deventer, he was very cool, calm, and collected.

"After the phone call was made, he walks around here [east side of counter].  Again, our blood didn't pan out right.  We couldn't type it. There is a high-velocity blood splatter on the counter....A bullet went through the wall and lodged into the closet of the office.  He was standing there and held the gun to his side like this, it went off, and the bullet passed through his body and lodged in the closet....

"Tommy Zeigler used to be a medic in the Reserves.  He has studied the anatomy.  He knew the one place in the body where he could shoot and be relatively safe but it could be nothing more than just a superficial injury....

He shoots himself toward the front of the store and walks toward the front of the store, back south toward the front doors.  At this point right here there was a coffee table.  There was a straight-down droplet where he stopped....

"What he did, he stopped at this little coffee table and threw the gun back to the back of the store.  With none around him, that would make the story more believable; that somebody else shot him, and he got to the front door and he called the Van Deventer house, and two minutes away, here comes the police to save him."

Frye said that only through an oversight had Zeigler picked up an empty gun to shoot Edward Williams.

So far, testimony had not been dramatically different from that of the preliminary hearing: evidence that had left Judge Kaney unimpressed.  But now Frye shifted direction.  Most of what he said in the next few minutes had not yet been spoken under oath, and never was heard at trial.

"You probably wonder how this wonderful man would do this," Frye said.  "He was a prominent businessman in Winter Garden.  He is wealthy.  Well, not wealthy but he is well off....He was a meager man. His wife and his mother hated each other.  They moved into the house right next door to his mother.  It was here that Mrs. Zeigler, Sr., picked out every item of furniture and drapes.  She picked out everything for them.  Eunice never had a say-so-in the entire thing.

"Mrs. Zeigler is a very dominant and overbearing mother.  The father was a passive guy.  He was overpowered by the mother....Tommy was a child brought up by a dominant mother.  I have talked to people in Winter Garden, friends and confidential  informants.  I can't reveal the names.  I have got one that is real close to the family. They said that Tommy Zeigler is highly capable of this.

"This is the type of pattern of a man who is brought up by a passive father and a dominant mother.  There are rumors going around that Tommy Zeigler is a homosexual.  I haven't been able to prove or disprove that.  You will note that each of these men are beaten, but none of the women are. Why is this so?

"Schools that I have been to say that this act can be interpreted as that of a homosexual, a man trying to be bisexual.  During the time he committed the beatings, all inside him, he saying.  I'm a man.  You see, I'm a man.  I've got power.  This can also be considered as retaliation of the mother, trying to break from the mother.

"This all shows a consistent pattern with his up bringing, the way he was brought up.  He was vicious as a boy.  One time, he cut the leg off a dog to play a joke.

"People in Winter Garden like my informant did not want to be recognized because they were afraid of repercussions.  But, of the people I have talked with, other than the three or four immediately around Tommy who are staying by his

side, everybody seems to think that he is highly capable of committing these killings....

"There is another point where you have a man of this caliber.  As you people know, there are some who are sorry for what they did and admit to wrongdoing.  When they get caught, they say, I'm sorry for it. You feel somewhat compassion for them. But, in Tommy Zeigler's case, he would not admit to it, and he probably never will. This is the kind of man that is a real threat to society, because he will do it again.  He has no soul, no conscience and no remorse whatsoever.  Neither does his mother....

"There is one occasion when Tommy and his father were out in the lake, and Tommy was trying to drown him.  The mother was standing on the shore looking.  Some person came by and said what are you doing. Tommy said, we are playing, and they laughed it off....

"Tommy was kind of a miser.  He didn't allow Eunice to run the air conditioner in the summertime, as hot as it was in the house.  He wanted to save the money.  He drove an old 1968 Oldsmobile.

"Okay.  Last year, Tommy goes out and buys an $8,000 vehicle.  In November or December, he had a  $13,000 swimming pool put in his yard. We find that he had credit-life insurance on himself and upon the death of this wife.  These items are now paid off, and he doesn't owe a damn dime, not a dime."

Frye now discussed a loan for $866 which Edward Williams received by refinancing his vehicles.  According to Frye, Zeigler took the check and cashed it, and never gave Williams the money.  This launched the last important element of the state's case, the racial subtext that became a palpable part of the trial, though it was rarely explicit.

"Charlie Mays and Edward Williams were two nice guys," Frye said. "Charlie Mays was one of the leaders of the community in Oakland.  He was the leader of a girls softball team.  He was a very likable person. Anytime anyone wanted to go somewhere, he would always take them.

"Edward Williams is the same way Edward Williams and Charlie Mays are what you might call a yes-man to Tommy Zeigler.  They were black and he was white.  He was dominant in their minds, apparently. Anything he said or he told them to do, they would do it.

"Why he tried to utilize these two men, he knew that they would be where he told them to be at a certain time.  At 7:30, he had  one at the store to kill, and back at the house was one to be killed.  He knew Edward Williams would wait there for him."

Eagan had two more witnesses, both experts whom the defense had retained.

Dr. Theodore Mackler was a psychiatrist who had conducted a session with Zeigler on March 11.  Mackler had administered a dose of the drug Brevital

Sodium, a derivative of sodium pentothal, in an attempt to overcome his apparent amnesia about the events at the store.

Eagan allowed Mackler to show a videotape of the session, in which Zeigler, seemingly at the edge of consciousness, gave a halting account that was a slightly more detailed version of his sketchy original story.

Dr. John Feegel was the chief medical examiner of Hillsborough County, which included the city of Tampa.  Feegel had examined Zeigler's gunshot wound.

FEEGEL: My opinion, it is very unlikely to be a self- inflicted deceptive wound....As a clever dodge, to inflict a wound to look like you have been shot by someone else, it is a highly unlikely area that one chooses to shoot himself.

EAGAN: What do you base that opinion on, sir?

FEEGEL: First of all, on the basis of having seen other self-inflicted wounds, both suicidal and accidental, and the likelihood of using a weapon of this caliber in an abdominal shot with enough self-confidence, unfortunately, that nothing is going to go wrong with this angle of shot.  Also your knowledge, working knowledge, of what is there.  I can't think of a kidney surgeon that would dare shoot himself in that area.

A juror questioned him on that point.

JUROR: Could a person with knowledge like I have take that gun against his body over his clothes and aim, knowing he is not going to hit any vital organs?  Would he need just a little bit of knowledge?

FEEGEL: It would take very little knowledge, I would think.  That is not the thing—I am not stupid enough to do it.

EAGAN: Or depraved enough to try it either.

Don Frye's testimony was the linchpin of what became a successful presentation.  Around midday of the 26th, after listening to witnesses for a day and a half, the grand jury voted two indictments against Zeigler: for first-degree murder in the killings of Perry and Virgina Edwards, and for first-degree murder in the killings of Charlie Mays and Eunice.  His bail was revoked, and he surrendered at the county jail that afternoon.

Supporters of the grand jury system see it as an essential safeguard of the rights of the accused, a valuable check on the power of the state.  To its detractors, the grand jury is a near-pointless exercise, the prosecutor's rubber stamp of approval: not merely futile, but dangerous, too, because in the public mind an indictment, however obtained, often ends the presumption of innocence.

Zeigler enters jail, indicted in 4 murders was the headline in the Sentinel Star, and the photo was of Tommy Zeigler at the jail's booking office, with his head bowed and his palms flat on the desk as he was being frisked.

Sixteen

Circuit Judge Maurice M. Paul denied Zeigler’s request for bail. In the next several weeks he denied the defense motion to suppress evidence taken from the store and 75 Temple Grove Drive.  Paul ruled, in the first instance, that the police’s right to a crime scene is a valid exception to Fourth Amendment protection.  And he held that the permission that Zeigler signed on the morning of the 25th was a valid consent to search, in spite of the circumstances under which it was obtained. 

With apparent great reluctance he granted the defense’s motion for a change of venue.  He denied a defense motion for a continuance.  He denied two separate defense motions that he recuse himself—step down—from the case. 

The trial was set to begin on Tuesday, June 6, at the Duval County Courthouse in Jacksonville.

Don Frye now was on temporary assignment to the office of the state attorney.  During the weeks before the trial he spent at least part of his time attempting to corroborate the rumors he had heard in Winter Garden and had repeated before the grand jury.

On June 2, he taped-recorded an interview with a Winter Garden woman named Cheryl Clafler,1 whom he described on the tape as “a close friend of the ex-Eunice Zeigler.”  The following is excerpted from the defense’s transcription of the recording.

Q (FRYE):   Is it okay if I call you Cheryl?  You can call me Don.  If you would, I know we talked briefly just a minute ago, but if you would just start all over with the tape.  Just explain to me, you said you met her about a year ago.

A (CLAFLER):  About a year ago we started talking and we met a couple times like that and then we got, you know, friendly.  And one day I walked in and she says, “Cheryl I’ve got to talk to you” and we got in the car and we went to Ronnie’s, you know, Drive-In.

Q:  That’s in Winter Garden?

A:  Yeah.  On Dillard Street.  She got to talking and well, I don’t know, she was just tense and everything.  She just let it all out. And that’s when she told me that she had come in early one day and told me that she had found her husband in bed with a man and I’m not sure but I think it was [X]2 . . .

__________________________________________

1              A pseudonym.

2              A prominent local figure.


And then she got to talking and she told me what all she had seen, you know.  She—Q:  Let’s go into—I know it’s hard for you to recall but if you would, kind of go into detail with it.  Everything that she told you.

A:  Well, she said that they were in bed.  Both of them was nude and they were all lovey-dovey and she got sick to her stomach.  And she had to rush out and she run out of the house and she went back down to the store and a—she wanted to call me but I didn’t give her my phone number so she couldn’t call me because she didn’t know where I lived.  So she stayed in the store and in a few minutes he come on down.  Then she left. 

Q:  Did she say whether or not he said anything to her when he first came in?

A:  Yeah.  He told her to keep her mouth shut or else….She says, “Cheryl,” she says, “he’s in love with him.”  I says, “He’s what?”  You know, I’ve heard about it but I’ve never really known anybody that was that way.  She was crying and I said, “Eunice,” I said, “what are you going to do?”  She said, “I don’t know, he just threatened, he said, he told me, if I didn’t keep my mouth shut that I knew what I was going to get.”  So I said, I said, “Have you told your mother?”  She said, “I called Momma a few minutes ago,” and she said, “they’re suppose to come down.” . . . So when he takes the insurance out on her—she—about two weeks after—he had taken the insurance out on her she come—then she called me.  And she says, “Cheryl I need somebody to talk to again.”  I said, “All right, I’ll be there in few minutes.”  So we met at Ronnie’s again.  And that’s when she told me he had taken out all that insurance on her. . . 

 So she says, “Now I am scared.”  She said, “But Momma said they’d be down Christmas Eve to pick me up—said then I’ll have everything straightened out where I can leave.”  I said, “What you gonna straighten around?”  She said, “Some things I got to take care of before I can leave,” and the next thing I heard she was—she was killed.

Q:  Okay.  What about the a—you knew now for a fact that [X] and Tommy were homosexuals.  What about [Y]3?  Did she ever have anything other than just her own suspicions about him also?

A:  All she had was just suspicions about him because, you know, he was buddy-buddy with them, too.  And she said he acted like [X] did towards Tommy, but she had never caught [Y] with him like she did [X].  It just tore her up.

Q:  I imagine it did.

A:  She—she was a sweet girl.


3          Another well-known Orange County man who was known to associate with Zeigler.

Q:  Yeah.  The investigation we’ve done, of course, we found out from everybody we’ve talked to that she was just an outstanding, really likable, lovable person.

A:  She was a lovable person . . .

Q:  . . . Did she ever mention—I know they were going to adopt a baby one time.

A:  No, she didn’t mention that.

Q:  Did she ever talk to you about wanting children?

A:  Yes. She did. Very bad.

Q:  Well, did she ever say anything about Tommy—as to why?

A:  No, all she said was that every time she’d bring up the subject he’d pitch a fit so she said she just quit, quit even mentioning it.

Q:  About having a baby or sex?

A:  Well, she said that he’d have sex with her once in a while.  But it weren’t like it should be, you know.  But, as far as having a baby, that was out of the question as far as Tommy was concerned.

Q:  What about—I understand that—another rumor was that he wouldn’t even allow her to run air conditioning in the summer and things like this.  Did she ever talk to you about how tight he was with his money or anything like that?

A:  He had never give her no money at all . . . .

Q:  . . . So all in all we have that she comes to you and she is concerned about—after she caught [X] and Tommy in bed together.

A:  She was concerned about her life.

Q:  . . . When—did she elaborate on when Tommy told her he was in love with [X]—what did she say exactly about that?

A:  Well, she just, a—he never told her directly, you know, just on the phone.  She answered the phone that afternoon and it was [X] and a—she heard Tom say, “Of course I love you, I don’t give a damn who knows,” you know.  So that’s how she found out it was an affair, you know—

Q:  Makes you sick, doesn’t it?

A:  You better believe it makes you sick.

Q:  So then she—after she finds this out and Tommy warns her, threatens her, and he starts taking out the insurance and then she calls her momma and arranges for them to take her back Christmas—I asked you before—did she relate to you that Tommy knew her parents were going to take her back?

A:  Yeah.  She said that she was calling her mother.  I guess it was a week before Christmas, you know, and she was writing down the date and everything and this time of where to meet her mother and all that, and Tom come in and he overheard her talking on the phone and she, he made her give her the address and everything and the time that her mother was coming . . . . She was supposed to meet her uptown somewhere.

Q:  So it was arranged where the parents weren’t even going to come to the house?

A:  Right, right.  And she was—well, he tore the paper up . . . .

Q:  . . .  So apparently what she was doing was just biding her time until Christmas when she could leave him.

A:  Yeah.  That’s all she was doing.  Just making things rock on until she could get off.

Q:  Did she ever come right out and tell you—I forgot what we were talking about before—about she had to get away before he kills her, or something like that?

A:  Well, she made the statement, she said because—

Q:  What did she say exactly—her exact words?

A:  Well, she said a—that was the last time I saw her before I heard she got killed.  She said that she had to get away because her life was in danger.  I said, “Well why is your life in danger?”  And she said, “Because,” she said, “because he’s already threatened to kill me.”  She said, “He’s taken out the insurance on me,” she said, “and that’s proof that he does mean it.” . . . She says, “Since I’ve found him,” she says, “he’s told me over and over and over if I said anything he would kill me. . . .”

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