who can go out and try to find the real killer. I know you have worked with every investigator in the state, and I am hoping you could give me a name to request in my motion.”
“Well, you can’t officially request a specific investigator. If you ask for a name the judge will give you someone else just to prove who is in charge. That said, you need Harold Thomas,” Ackerman said emphatically. “Most everyone calls him ‘Booger,’ though the reason for that is a story you must hear from the man himself. Anyway, he is the best in the business. Not afraid to get his hands dirty, if you know what I mean. Moreover, if you convince him of Scottie’s innocence, he will put in extra time for free beyond the court’s limited budgeted amount. You know the court will only pay those guys for a few hours of work. If you get the wrong one, then that is all the time they will put into your case. Booger, on the other hand, is one of the real good guys in the business. If your boy is innocent, he won’t sleep until he finds the truth.”
“Thank you very much, Frank. I knew you would know the person I needed to request. Take care and enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“No problem, son. One last thing, I would suggest you go talk to him before you file the motion. He runs an auto body repair shop just north of Pine Street on Lewis. If he wants in, he can find a way to make sure he gets appointed and you just file the motion without naming anyone. Not sure how he does what he does, but that man is a real wizard. Good luck.”
The call ended, then Steve immediately searched “Harold Thomas Auto Body Tulsa” on his phone. Nothing but chain body shops came up. Then he tried “Booger Auto Body Tulsa.” Sure enough, Booger’s Auto Body and Detail Shop came up with an address on North Lewis Avenue. The business was open on Saturdays until five. Steve rushed to get ready and properly dressed. In a matter of minutes, he was in his car and heading to the location on his GPS.
On the drive over, he rehearsed the pitch he was about to make to Harold “Booger” Thomas. Steve knew, based on Ackerman’s emphatic recommendation, that he must get this man to work on the case.
When he pulled up, Booger’s Auto Body and Detail Shop looked much like Steve had expected. It showed signs of being an old, full-service gas station before Booger had turned it into an auto body repair shop. Steve parked next to a concrete island out front, where the pumps clearly used to be located.
He observed the front of the station, which had been transformed into a building containing four garage bays. The two middle ones were open. The back and side yards were fenced in by an eight-foot-tall chain link with four rows of barbed wire angled outward along the top. Several wrecked cars were parked within the fenced-in area.
As Steve approached the open garage bays, the odor of Bondo and paint flooded his nostrils. Standing at the front end of a red 1982 Camaro Z28 was a tall black man wearing a mask and holding a spray gun in his right hand. He was focused on the job at hand.
“Hello!” Steve yelled to get his attention.
The man calmly lowered the mask and looked up from his work at Steve. Booger was much older than Steve, being in his late fifties or early sixties, with gray curls interspersed throughout his head and facial hair. Despite his great age, the man still looked wise beyond his years.
“How can I help you?” he asked.
“Hello, Mr. Thomas, my name is Steve Hanson. I am a criminal defense attorney here in Tulsa,” Steve said as he walked forward and extended his hand. “I need an investigator on a death penalty case, and Frank Ackerman said you are the best in the state. Would you like to help me save the life of an innocent man?”
Booger accepted the handshake even as he shook his head and chuckled. “I haven’t had anyone call me Mr. Thomas in a long time. So, you know Ackerman, do you? One hell of a lawyer he is, and an even better man” Booger said with a smile that showed his appreciation and respect for the old warhorse. “But I’m out of the investigating game. Excuse my language, but I’ve simply gotten too old for that shit.”
“Well, I promise not to get you into any danger,” Steve said. “I just need someone to do some snooping around for me.”
“Steve, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Steve, that is what you damn lawyers always say before I get involved in something that ends up landing me in some precarious situation a short while later. If it’s not an outright despicable situation, it’s usually some type of physical danger to my person. If I end up helping you, I’ll bet you a dollar you have to eat those words someday.”
“Okay. Fair enough. It’s a bet,” Steve said with a grin. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”
Booger sighed. “I’m not saying that just yet. I still need a little more information. You look a little too young and clean-cut to be working this type of a case. You look more like the type to be charging the oil companies big bucks for writing up contracts and eating at Mahogany’s on the firm expense account every week. I suppose that means something happened to you when you were a kid to put you on the right path. Do you even have any idea what the hell you’re doing?”
Steve was taken aback by Booger’s quick assessment of him, “I am young, and, I’ll admit, I did want to look put together when I met you. This is not my usual Saturday afternoon attire. That said, Judge Henry appointed me to represent a gentleman by the name of Scottie Pinkerton who is currently on death row. I worked as the capital habeas clerk at the federal court my first two years out of law school, so I know death penalty law inside and out. And I honestly think my client is innocent. But I don’t have the investigative skills needed to find the real perpetrator and save Scottie’s life.”
“Damn, young man, there isn’t an adult in this world truly innocent. I agree there are lots of people sitting in prison for crimes they didn’t commit, but nobody is innocent! Besides…” a twinkle lit in Booger’s eyes as he continued, “isn’t that the dude that stabbed his wife about five thousand times?”
Steve nodded. Booger pulled his mask back up and turned to return to his work. Steve walked around to where Booger could see him and waved his arm.
“Please, just give me five minutes and if you still say no, I’ll leave in peace.”
Boogers shoulders dropped, “Tell me what you think you know about what happened,”
Steve asked, “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“I’ve always considered myself a bit of an optimist, so give me the bad news first. That way, I have something positive to look forward to. Do you want something to drink? I have cold soda and beer.”
“You have ginger ale?” Steve asked.
Booger just stared at him like an old man watching a child touch a low voltage electric fence.
“How about root beer?”
“That, I have. Take a seat.” Booger went into the building to work the soda machine, and Steve sat down on a car seat from an old Rambler that was rigged-up out front. Booger came back with two opened bottles and sat down on a bench car seat. Might be from the back of an Oldsmobile 442, Steve thought.
“So, what do you have?” Booger asked.
“Well…” Steve took a swig. “Starting with the bad, like you asked. They have a 911 call from the wife saying he had attacked her, and the call was cut off after she said he was breaking down the door.”
Booger took a drink. “And?”
“Bloody footprints matched his shoes, he took a shower right before the cops grabbed him so there was no blood on him at the time of arrest, scratches on his face, and she had his DNA under her fingernails—”
Booger held up a hand to interrupt him. “Stop, I don’t want to hear any more right now. Mr. Hanson, when you said ‘bad news,’ you were putting it lightly. You were just getting started, and those are already the most damning facts I think I’ve ever heard in over thirty years of handling murder investigations—and I had one where the guy shot one of my young brothers while calling him the word I hate to hear more than any other. The whole thing was in front of five witnesses gassing up their cars, and all of it caught on the gas station camera.”
He folded his arms, tilted his head back, and looked down his nose at Steve with his eyebrows raised. “What’s the good news? Someone else confess? Because short of a confession from some other idiot, you aren’t going to be able to convince me to waste my time helping you. And if you do have a confession from someone else, you don’t need me anyway. Either way, sounds like I’m still retired.” Booger stood up, put his mask back over his mouth and nose, and turned to face the red Camaro.
“Wait!”
Booger turned back toward Steve but didn’t remove the mask again.
“I have two things that make me think he didn’t do it,” Steve said hurriedly. “Number one, when I met him, he said that he didn’t do it. My whole life, I have been a very good judge of people, and when I talked to him, he just didn’t seem like a murderer. There was something about the way he acted that made me believe deep down he didn’t do it.”
Booger pulled the mask down and interrupted Steve. “How many murderers you met in your life, young man? I would bet good money this was the first, because I have met several and only one seemed like a murderer; the only time I have ever truly been scared in my life was sitting in a room with that man.”
He began to tremble and shake as he said, “I was on his side, he knew I was on his side, and it still scared the heck out of me to be anywhere near him. Thought he might snap my neck at any minute. He was a true sociopath. All the rest of them seemed like normal, everyday folk, even the ones where there were eyewitnesses and confessions. The guy I told you about earlier, he ended up crocheting me a real nice afghan. A decent guy on certain levels, he wasn’t even a racist. Tough upbringing and a lot of other issues. Just had a very bad day, and that poor kid was unlucky enough to run into him at that moment.”
Booger stared Steve down. “Your second issue better be stellar. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got plenty to do around here, and I would like to get back to it.” He waved his hand at all the cars that needed work done in his shop.
Steve pulled three pictures out of his pocket. The pictures showed different angles of the interior of the Scottie’s home taken by Deputy Blackburn during the investigation of Ashley’s murder. As he showed Booger the pictures, Steve said, “Look closely. You remember I mentioned the 911 call? This morning, I was listening to the tape again and happened to be looking at these pictures at the same time. On the call, she says that Scottie had hit her, and she was locked in the bedroom. Right before the call cuts off, she screams that he had just kicked in the door.”
Booger’s jaw dropped. “The bedroom door in all of these photos is completely intact. Not a scratch. It’s shut in this one and open in these other two. Are you sure there wasn’t another room in the house she might have been inside during the call?”
“Yes, I’m positive,” Steve replied. “The house only has three bedrooms: the master, the baby’s room, and a guest room. I’ve looked at all the pictures and none of the doors in the house were busted. I just brought these three because they show the master bedroom door the most clearly.”
“If your boy never busted a door in, then why did she say it on the call?”
“I don’t know, but if she lied about the door, maybe she lied about him hitting her too? And who knows what else isn’t as it seems with this case,” Steve said.
You sure do have some interesting information, but like I said, I’m out of the investigation game. I would recommend you contact Mark Bailey or Glen Holden, they are both excellent investigators.
Steve continued for several minutes to try and convince Booger to join his team but eventually realized it wasn’t going to happen.
