North Carolina Murder & Mayhem

INTRODUCTION

There are few places in the world that match the beauty and majesty of the great state of North Carolina. Coming from the perspective of a native Tar Heel, that might sound like a very biased statement, and it is, but the Old North State has become a magnet for transplants in the past thirty years. It is getting harder and harder to find other natives like myself when I meet new people here. Most people, especially in a city like Raleigh or Charlotte, will tell you they moved here in 1990 something for work or because their parents moved here to take a job, and they now consider themselves North Carolinians. So, there must be something in the pine forests and kudzu-lined highways of North Carolina that calls out to strangers and says, Come home. It truly is a special place where all are welcome.

North Carolina is flanked on its west side by gorgeous mountains and on the east by some of the finest beaches in the United States. At the center of the state is the Piedmont region, where you are only hours from either destination. The economy has always somehow missed out on the worst parts of the dark days in United States financial history. After the Civil War, during the Reconstruction period, North Carolina was home to the Duke family, who brought to the nation bright leaf tobacco and kept the farmers and manufacturers of the state busy. Universities popped up around the state, and in the Triangle area of Durham, Raleigh and Chapel Hill, there arose the Research Triangle Park (RTP). The RTP was just beginning to boom when the tobacco industry began to fall, and again North Carolina was able to avoid economic ruin by reinventing itself as a hub of technology and medical research.

Today, North Carolina offers a good economy, a mild environment, good schools and in general a nice place to raise your family. But there is a dark side to the Tar Heel State, just like anywhere else. It has not been immune to the evils of man throughout its existence. Crime has been a part of the landscape, just like it is everywhere you go, unfortunately. Even though North Carolina might not be as big or get as much coverage by the national media as some places, there have been several instances where we have taken the spotlight of the nation. There have been murders, shootings, riots and protests that have made the nightly national news.

Some have not been embedded in the national consciousness but have greatly affected the communities that they happened in and have had lasting effects on the people involved. Murder stands apart from other crimes in its severity and finality. When it hits close to home, it affects people in different ways—all bad. I have personally been in the orbit and experienced the loss of someone close at the hands of a killer more than once. It stays with you in a powerful way. It is hard to comprehend that someone can be gone forever just because someone else decides it should be so. The fact that humans have that much power over life and death is a heavy realization. Murder seems so far from normal human behavior that it changes forever the way you are able to look at people and always leaves the thought in your mind of what people are capable of doing.

I came to an understanding of what murder was when I was just a small child. My dad had been laid off from the Burlington Industries cotton mill in Durham, North Carolina, and was out of work. He had worked there as his father had and his father’s father before him. The mill was all that our family had known for generations, and when it closed, he took it hard. It was a tough time for my family, and my dad was just hoping for anything when he came across an ad in the Durham Herald for a maintenance technician with the state at the very new North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics (NCSSM). NCSSM was a school for academically gifted high school students and was operated out of the facilities that had once been Watts Hospital, which had closed some years before. He applied and hoped for the best. He tells the story of heading out of the house to continue his job search when he heard the phone ring. He had his hand on the doorknob but stopped in his tracks, and something just told him that this was it. He turned and picked up the ringing receiver. On the other end of the phone was a friendly voice that informed him he had gotten the job. The friendly voice was a wonderful lady named Nancy Williams who worked in the Human Resources Department. She was like an angel who was the messenger of deliverance for our family. They became friends immediately, and she even encouraged him to have my mother apply for a position as a receptionist at the school just a few years later. She did, and she got the job, giving both of my parents steady and dependable employment after several years of financial hardship.

As sunny as Nancy was, there was a dark shadow hanging over her life. Her husband, Robert Williams, was very abusive, and he would beat her and threaten her and had even held a gun to her head and threatened to kill her. She feared him, and with good reason. He had been a highway patrolman, but he had gotten fired for shooting at a car that had failed to yield to his signal to stop at a traffic check. He was unhinged and dangerous. Nancy finally got up the courage to leave him, but he remained on the periphery as a threat constantly. She always said she was sure he would kill her one day. Unfortunately, she was right.

Nancy had begun to date a man named Scotty, and on Fourth of July weekend 1991, they had gone to the beach with her parents. Upon returning to her parents’ house on Oberlin Road in Raleigh, they were surprised as they got out of the car by Robert, who stepped out from the shadows and shot Scotty in the neck. He dropped, and Nancy ran into the house. Gunfire rang out as Robert pursued her. Nancy retrieved a gun inside, and they exchanged fire. Neighbors thought they were hearing early fireworks and paid the exchange little attention. Nancy’s elderly parents stood in shock outside, unsure of what to do or whom to call for help. Inside the house, Nancy came up short in her gunfight with Robert. She lay dead in the bathroom shower, where she had fled for shelter. He exited the back door of the house but was surprised to find Scotty had recovered from his wound and had a pistol of his own. They exchanged fire, and this time, Robert had met more than his match. He died on the way to the hospital. Scotty was in critical condition for several days after the incident, and Nancy’s parents were unharmed.

It hit my family hard. My parents loved her. I had met her several times, and it was strange to realize so early that people could be taken away so suddenly and so violently. It was a shock and a tragedy—a beautiful life ripped from this world too soon. As hard as it was for my parents, and as much as I can say that it affected me, I cannot claim that Nancy was one of the closest people in our lives. She was a friend whom my parents loved dearly, but her connection was not that of a family member. Knowing the hurt in our household for Nancy, I cannot imagine the feeling of sorrow or loss at losing a child, husband, wife, father or mother can bring. Unfortunately, this was not the last time I would know someone whose life was taken so violently. Another young life was taken out of my world during a senseless crime when I was in high school. It changed my perspective on mankind and led to a reflective nature that wonders what all of those lives that have been taken would have been like. What is the world missing by not having these people here?

This book is not designed to glorify any of these crimes but to show the tragedy that has taken place in this beautiful state. For the loved ones who lost a part of themselves and mourn still, these stories may bring back feelings from dark places that will never truly go away. If they could speak for their loved ones, I think they would say that monsters do exist, and the real ones are far scarier than the ones you see in the movies. The following stories are taken from the headlines of North Carolina’s history. All of these stories have drawn attention and, in many cases, kept the attention of people for years and sometimes generations. There are different reasons for this. Some have been told and retold so many times that they have almost become like ghost stories—something you have to know if you live in a certain area. Some were so devastatingly sad and senseless that they stayed in people’s consciousness long after they disappeared from the newspapers and nightly news. The families never forget, and the hurt never stops.

WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA

The mountains of western North Carolina hold many mysteries, secrets and dangers. Author’s collection.

The western part of North Carolina is a mysterious place crowned by the Appalachian Mountains, which run along the East Coast of the United States from Maine to Alabama. The mountains are filled with legend and lore that help to accentuate the rich history of the land. Native Americans once lived free among the majestic mountains and hills. European settlers looked on them with wonder as they set out to conquer yet another frontier. Today, western North Carolina is a place where people from all over the world go to slow down and relax. Stress literally evaporates like the morning mist of the Great Smoky Mountains, leaving you feeling renewed and free. But in the nooks and crevasses of these great mountains remain memories of murder and brutality. Like the wailing of a ghost, voices scream out from the past and tell tales of murder and mayhem, sadness and pain.

Chapter 1

TOM DULA

Wilson Foster woke up and pulled on his trousers. He splashed water on his face and rubbed his eyes. Worry had been keeping him from a good sleep lately, and last night had been no different. His mind raced thinking about the future for his Laura. He knew she was in trouble, and even though the rumor was that the Dula boy was going to do right by her—as right as he could at this point—it was still a bad start to a young life. Worry consumed him with his daughter pregnant and unmarried in a small community where it seemed everyone else knew more than him. He took a long look into the small mirror that hung on the wall over the dresser with the washbasin on it—amenities left behind from his late wife, who had left him alone in this world to raise a little girl and try his best to make her into a proper lady. He wished she were still with them to help tame this wild girl he had. She would know what to say in times when he stood with his mind racing but his tongue frozen. He walked through the house and stepped out on the porch, immediately noticing the old mare was gone. She stayed tied to the tree in the front of the house, but this morning she was gone. He went back inside to Laura’s room and stepped in the door. Standing there with the doorknob in his hand, he felt his heart breaking inside. Well, he thought to himself as he looked at her dresser with drawers open, showing nothing but empty space, my girl is gone.

Thinking that she had eloped with Dula, he went about his business around the farm that day as best as he could. He was concerned for her, but he was also concerned about what he was going to do about replacing the mare that was necessary to keep the farm running. He assumed she would be back after she was wed, and presumably after the baby was born, but that would be a while yet. Just another loss due to Tom Dula, he thought. That boy was just plain trouble.

Wilson was sitting on the porch the next afternoon smoking his pipe when he heard a horse coming around the cabin. He stood and watched as the mare appeared, trotting around the corner with no rider. He hurried over to her and took her bridle, which he immediately noticed was worn and torn. It looked to him like it had been tied, and the mare had struggled and worn it down until it broke. She was hungry, and he took her to her tree and gave her some grain and sassafras. His mind was racing. His instincts were to go after Laura, but he knew he needed help, and he knew he needed the mare. She had to eat and rest for a while.

As soon as she had eaten and gotten enough rest to be ridden, he mounted her and went off to look for Laura, stopping at each homestead and recruiting help along the way. They searched the trails and common passages with no luck. Finally, they found the remnants of the mare’s bridle tied to a tree and worn ground around the tree from where she had paced around trying to get loose. She had