Similar Transactions: A True Story

by S. R. Reynolds

  Doug never knew the identity of the prankster until that night. He immediately told Anita the connection.

  What is going on? Anita thought.

  Len drove Anita and Doug to Larry Lee’s place. The apartment was actually leased to an absent ex-girlfriend, Maryanne. It opened directly into a small, stark living room, behind which was a kitchen and a back door. Opposite the front door were stairs leading to a second floor containing two bedrooms. One had been for Maryanne and the other for her young son.

  When Anita and Doug arrived, they found a teenage girl in the apartment with Larry Lee. They soon learned that she was a neighbor Maryanne had sometimes used as a babysitter. Larry Lee explained that she was there as moral support and as a witness to their conversation. He then offered Anita and Doug a seat on the worn sofa, which they politely declined.

  Right away Anita questioned Larry Lee about the phone call Doug remembered from the previous summer. Larry Lee admitted to the call, saying it was a favor for his neighbor. He apologized, said he knew it was wrong. To Anita, Larry Lee seemed to be trying hard to turn on the charm, always responding with “Yes, Ma’am” and “No, Ma’am,” often taken in the South as a sign of personal integrity, someone raised right, with respect and good manners.

  He informed Anita that the police had already searched his messy apartment at his request. He then provided an account of what had allegedly transpired the night before. His story matched nearly perfectly with the one already given by Chas.

  On the previous evening, he recalled, he’d encountered the kids at a convenience store on Cherry Street when he stopped there on his way home from work. He witnessed the interaction between the clerk and the underage teens and offered to buy them beer. As thanks, the kids invited him back to the party.

  Later, as the party broke up, Larry Lee invited Chas, Michelle and Becka to go riding around in his truck and then over to his apartment, where they could drink and smoke pot. They all squeezed into the cab of his small, yellow truck, Becka in the middle and Michelle on Chas’s lap by the passenger door.

  After hanging out for a while, Becka said she needed to go home, so Larry Lee took her. He also took Chas and Michelle along for the ride. Once they’d dropped Becka off, he invited the couple back to his place.

  At Larry Lee’s apartment, Michelle passed out on the couch, and Larry Lee carried her upstairs to a bedroom, while Chas followed right behind. “So she would be more comfortable,” Larry Lee told Anita.

  He said Chas went into the room with Michelle and they had some kind of fight. Michelle, visibly upset, stumbled out of the room, hurried down the stairs, and ran out of the apartment. Chas followed along right behind her. Outside, Chas and Michelle’s voices grew loud, so Larry Lee suggested that he take them home. Michelle agreed. But Chas continued yelling at Michelle, so Larry Lee ordered him to sit in the bed of the truck while Michelle sat in the cab. Chas climbed into the back and Michelle said she didn’t want him at her house, so Larry Lee decided to take Chas home first.

  When they got to Chas’s grandparents’ house, Chas climbed out and walked toward the passenger door. Michelle threw open the door and the two immediately began arguing in the street. There was a lot of yelling before Michelle finally jumped back into the cab and slammed the door shut. Larry Lee then drove off. After this second altercation with Chas, Michelle wanted to talk. So she and Larry Lee rode around for a while. “Until it was very late,” Larry Lee said. “Like maybe four or five in the morning.” Then Michelle asked to be dropped off at the corner near Chas’s, because now she wanted to talk to him. So Larry Lee obliged. Then he headed home and that was the last he saw of her.

  “How could you just leave her there!?” Anita asked, incredulously.

  “She insisted,” Larry Lee claimed. He said she’d told him that Chas’s grandparents’ house was just three down from the corner on Jefferson Street and that she’d be all right.

  Three down, thought Anita. That detail is correct. Could this guy be telling the truth? She was feeling so confused.

  Then in a voice expressing equal parts panic and concern, Larry Lee added: “I was the last person to see her. If anything happened to her, it would be blamed on me!”

  Larry Lee told Anita and Doug that he’d never had so much as a parking ticket, and that he was an alcoholic who watched what he drank. The kids had noticed the night before that while he was pushing the alcohol their way, he kept his consumption light. Larry Lee then invited Anita and Doug to look around the apartment before they left. He also gave Anita the name of his mother, Ruby, who lived on Fern Avenue in South Knoxville, and his girlfriend, Maryanne Parker, in whose apartment he was staying while she was “away” in Florida.

  “Well, he was very cool and well mannered,” Anita said to Len as she and Doug came out of his apartment and climbed back into the van. She was perplexed. Her gut didn’t trust Larry Lee or his story. But she didn’t know if she believed Chas either. She didn’t know what to think.

  When they got back to the house, she stared at the family sofa, where she’d last seen her lovely daughter twenty-four hours earlier, smiling, laughing, claiming she would be home all evening, safe in her own home. Anita turned to her mother. “Where do we go from here?”

  Snapshot of Michelle, taken just weeks before her disappearance. She is wearing the yellow-and white-striped sweatshirt she borrowed from her best friend, Marci.

  4. SIGHTINGS

  Downtown Knoxville is built on the banks of the mighty Tennessee River, which glides through the southern portion of the city and beyond for another six-hundred and fifty-two miles. Once known as the Cherokee, the mammoth river forms where the Holston and French Broad merge just east of the metropolis, having carved their way out of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

  Angled a few city blocks north of the river, off Hill Avenue, is the Knoxville Police Department. Anita reported there, as instructed, on Monday, January 12, 1987, two days after Michelle went missing. Inside the industrial-looking yellow brick and concrete structure she rode the elevator up to the office of Detective Jerry McNair, who would be investigating her daughter’s disappearance. McNair was an easygoing kind of guy: friendly, with a pleasant face, but requisite blank expression. He had many friends inside the KPD, where he’d spent his career. The affable detective greeted Anita, shaking her hand, sympathizing with her problem. “Please take a seat,” he offered.

  Anita recounted the events of the previous Friday night when Michelle had failed to return home. She included Larry Lee’s version of what had transpired after he’d driven off with her daughter.

  McNair informed Anita that he had already talked with Larry Lee. He had looked around the messy public-housing apartment and checked into his local criminal history. “He’s got an arrest record,” the detective said flatly, “but it’s not that bad.” He was referring to Larry Lee’s Knox County charges—possession of marijuana for resale, receiving and concealing stolen property, felonious assault. The detective had not uncovered Larry Lee’s rape conviction in Florida, or the fact that he’d been paroled from a Florida prison just two-and-a-half years before.

  After Detective McNair summed up his findings, he advised Anita that her daughter was—in his professional opinion—most likely a runaway. After all, Larry Lee said he’d dropped Michelle back off at the corner of Cherry and Jefferson—at her request. The detective then instructed Anita to file a report at the family court, from which a pickup order for Michelle would be issued.

  “I don’t think Michelle ran away,” a perplexed Anita responded softly, blinking back tears. “She had no reason to. We were very close.” Yet Anita was not inclined to argue or appear oppositional. McNair was a detective; maybe he understood something she didn’t. Before she left the station, she asked him if she should put up flyers, leaflets. “Sure,” he said. “That’d be fine.”

  Despite her doubts and misgivings and repressed intuitive alarm, Anita went through the steps, as instructed by McNair, and completed the paperwo
rk at the Knox County Juvenile Court on Division Street. She answered the questions, filled out the forms, and provided a description of Michelle: wavy, below-the-shoulder mahogany hair, olive skin, large hazel eyes, five feet tall, one hundred and five pounds, last seen wearing size five Levi’s and a yellow and white striped sweatshirt.

  None of Michelle’s friends thought she’d run away either. Not even her toothbrush was missing, let alone clothes or other belongings, and she was always careful about her appearance. All her good friends were accounted for, and no one knew where she was. Who was she supposed to have run away with?

  Flyers were posted by the family shortly after Michelle went missing and were updated until she was found.

  Anita returned home from the juvenile court and stayed home from work for the next week. The Anderson house on Tacoma Trail had been hangout central for Doug, Michelle and their friends. In light of Michelle’s disappearance, that function changed instantly and completely. It was now command central for any leads, any hope, any help—a shoulder to cry on. Flyers were printed and hung by the hundreds. Groups of family and friends manned shifts for weeks at the house, making calls, answering the phone and following up on leads generated by the leaflets or word of mouth.

  The KPD did not publicize that a fifteen-year-old girl had gone missing in North Knoxville; even other divisions within the department knew nothing about the case. But calls and reported sightings generated by the posters came into Anita’s house daily. Some were detailed. Many were from callers or witnesses who swore with absolute certainty that they’d seen Michelle. Most were false leads that brought on false hope.

  Psychics offered insights. Would-be detectives offered their services. Anita realized that some people just liked to get in on the drama of a missing child. Despite these frustrations, Anita and her crew went out looking every day. They even staked out a few locations, sometimes for hours, sometimes in disguise. Chas participated in at least one of these stakeouts, eager to help find his missing girlfriend, the elusive, phantom, runaway Michelle.

  The ongoing reports of sightings gave the fractured family reason to hope. Anita latched onto that hope, following leads for as long as she could, telling herself that if so many people claimed sightings of Michelle, she must be out there somewhere.

  Anita focused on this thought every day, day by day, until the days grew into weeks, and still she had not pushed past her overwhelming fear to tell Doug Sr., her ex-husband, of their daughter’s disappearance. It was killing her not to tell him, and yet she just couldn’t bring herself to do it; she couldn’t quite surmount that fear.

  Doug Sr. had been the more authoritarian parent when the kids were young, keeping them tightly in line. Now he was more than seven hundred miles away, and had been for a couple of years. While the kids had adjusted to their transformed lives and hormonal adolescent bodies, they’d done so out from under the thumb of their strict father.

  When he called from Miami to speak with his daughter, Anita said Michelle was out, which she often was when he’d called in the past. He still thought of Michelle as a twelve-year-old. He wasn’t there. He didn’t know the teenage version. And he certainly didn’t know what Anita had been through, what she was going through now. As soon as Michelle came home, Anita would tell him all about what had happened. Any day now.

  As the weeks multiplied, Anita tried to convince Doug to tell his dad the news, such was her dread of her ex-husband’s temper, his wrath, his disdain, but her son declined. Anita would have to handle this one on her own. Eventually, after a month, she could avoid it no longer.

  It was as bad as she’d expected. Doug Sr.’s temper exploded. How could she allow this to happen, he raged. “He called me everything,” Anita later shared. “He thought of Michelle as his little girl, but he didn’t understand what was going on.” She already felt weighted down with guilt and regret. She already blamed herself.

  For the first week after Michelle went missing, Larry Lee called Anita every day. He said he was concerned for her and wanted to see if there were any developments. About a month after Michelle’s disappearance, Larry Lee’s truck was vandalized. The windshield was cracked and the passenger side of the body was crumpled down its entire length. Anita never heard directly from him again.

  The day after this incident, a mysterious note appeared on Anita’s front door:

  MICHELLE IS WITH US. SHE IS OURS FOREVER. YOU’VE COME TOO CLOSE. YOU COME THIS CLOSE AGAIN AND WE’LL MAKE HER SUFFER MORE. DANTE OF HELL. BLOOD OF THE VIRGIN. FULL MOON. THE VIRGIN CROSS FROM RED TO BLACK. BAD MEN TONIGHT. DEATH SOON TO B.K., B.G., T.C., J.M, C.F., B.F. AND OLD BROWN CAR.

  The note included two indecipherable drawings, possibly made with blood. The initials were those of friends and associates who had, in one way or another, assisted in the search for Michelle. The same note was also left on the car of John “Sunshine” Madden, an acquaintance of the Anderson family who had helped look for Michelle. Madden had come to the Anderson home frequently during the early days of the search, often providing rides for Chas. Madden also drove an old brown car.

  In 1980s American culture, a collective phenomenon occurred that has been dubbed, in retrospect, the “satanic panic.” Many people believed Satanists were lurking in disguise amongst ordinary citizens, waiting to convert vulnerable souls to the service of the Devil. Several stories made headlines. It was a wave of societal hysteria that came and went, but between its beginning and end, ignited the imaginations of many.

  Anita believed that the letter was a hoax and the writer was just playing off of this “satanic” hysteria. It didn’t take long for her to suspect that the letter writer was actually Larry Lee—or someone in his circle—looking for a way to scare Anita off or switch her focus. No one laid claim to the assault on Larry Lee’s truck. But if Larry Lee was the writer, Anita thought, perhaps he believed that some of those on the list were involved. Perhaps he knew who was involved. Whatever the case, she made a copy of the “satanic” letter and turned the original over to Detective McNair.

  In March, two months after Michelle had gone missing, Anita begged to get a small article about her daughter’s disappearance published in the Knoxville News Sentinel. She’d tried earlier and been turned down; a runaway wasn’t news. Finally, Anita saw an article about another missing teen and pointed it out to someone at the paper. What’s the deal? They acquiesced, and followed through with a poorly and hastily assembled article with no byline. The information reported in the story reflected Larry Lee’s account of what transpired that night, as given to Detective McNair. The article did not name Larry Lee Smith, nor did it challenge or question his story. It reflected the confusion and lack of direction in the non-investigation of a “runaway” who had now been missing for more than sixty days.

  Chas came to the Anderson home almost every day. At first he was welcomed as an active part of the family support and search efforts. Many people showed him sympathy. After all, he was Michelle’s boyfriend and had been friends with her brother for years.

  One night, while he and the Anderson family sat at the dining room table, he suddenly collapsed into a heap and began sobbing uncontrollably. When Anita tried to console him, he ran to the bathroom hiding his face with his hands. She followed him, and through streaming tears he admitted his shame and guilt. He told her he felt responsible for being drunk that night and allowing Larry Lee to take him home first. He apologized and said that he felt the family blamed him. Anita assured him that was not the case. But in reality, they weren’t sure.

  As weeks passed and no real answers or clues emerged, people began speculating behind Chas’s back, whispering accusations. He was there, wasn’t he? Did he just allow Larry Lee to drive off with his girlfriend? He must know something. They were fighting; did he get rough with her? Did he get sexual with her against her will? That one night when he just started crying, didn’t it seem a little too intense, like maybe he was really crying about what he knew, what he’d done? Were he and Larry Lee partn
ers in crime? Did Larry Lee have something on Chas; is that why parts of their stories seemed so much alike?

  During the period of searching and waiting, Doug remained stoic, floating on the periphery, keeping his shock, his grief, and his opinions largely to himself. When it came to his friend Chas, he just wasn’t sure he bought into the idea that Chas was guilty—although he did wonder. Just the fact that Chas was there, drinking at Larry Lee’s instead of taking Michelle home—and all the other things that went on—made Doug somewhat suspicious. And then there were the latest rumors, just beginning to emerge, concerning Chas’s new girlfriend. Chas was already dating someone else, and people had witnessed him being abusive to her when he was drinking. Doug knew Chas had a bad temper, but believed he would never hurt Michelle, his friend’s little sister…

  “Chas reacted as almost everyone else did to the situation,” Doug later recalled. “He cried openly in front of people, as if he were as worried as everyone else who was around at the time. Nothing appeared odd to me about Chas’s behavior. Of course, with the initial shock of Michelle’s disappearance, I didn’t know what to think or do about anything. All roads led to Larry Lee Smith.”

  In the months after Michelle’s disappearance, Anita felt that she not only lost Michelle, but Doug, too. He was just eighteen, his sister was missing, and he needed his mother. But the loss of and search for Michelle became all consuming. Doug became more withdrawn. Though he kept his thoughts and feelings inside, his grandmother caught him crying in his room a couple of times.

  “I have never told anyone this before,” Doug confided much later to a friend. “The last time I would ever see Michelle was when she and Chas—and I can’t remember who else was there—were leaving. I’d been drinking and pleaded with her not to go. I don’t remember what she said. We argued back and forth, but I will never forget the last words that came out of my mouth before they left. I remember screaming: ‘If you leave, I hope you never come back!’ I went back into the house and slept. I will always be haunted by those words I can never take back. The next morning, welcome to hell.”