“And to make sure I understood him, Larry Lee drove me to a dead-end road out near Sevierville. He had a knife and pulled out a gun, some rope and tape. My son, John, was asleep in the back seat. Larry Lee said that John could either be without his mom or he could join me, but that no one would be able to find us for a long time.”
Larry Lee put Maryanne to work at a notorious Knoxville brothel known as Hazel’s, named for its founding madam, Hazel Davidson. Hazel had been a bold, beautiful and flamboyant fixture in Knoxville’s party scene from the 1940s to the 1970s. She pursued well-heeled men who paid for her time and her favors, and she also kept connections to the city’s underworld. Married five times, her name became linked in 1968 to the still-unsolved murder of the wife of one of her prominent suitors, Knoxville businessman Harry Busch.
But as Hazel Davidson aged, she transitioned from “playgirl” to madam, running the busiest and most popular brothel in town. At Hazel’s, a stylishly furnished and decorated bordello, beautiful young women served the clientele, which included cops, attorneys and drug dealers.
Larry Lee’s estranged wife, Sara—still stuck in a desperate downward spiral—also worked at Hazel’s. She saw Maryanne there and felt sorry for her. She understood what Maryanne was going through, what a controlling, twisted monster Larry Lee could be. She could tell that Maryanne was terrified of him.
One day he showed up outside Hazel’s to pick up Maryanne, but she resisted leaving with him. He tried to force her into his vehicle, and she began crying and begging him to stop. Sara’d had a bit too much to drink, and she’d had more than enough of Larry Lee. So she propped herself against the car, raised her left foot, removed the spiked heel from it with her right hand, and began pounding him over the head with it.
“Ouch! God!” Larry Lee yelped. He put his hands up to block the blows. He didn’t want to attract attention and risk a confrontation in front of Hazel’s. And Ruby had custody of Joey, so she would be very upset if he made a public scene with Sara now. He cursed and threatened both women, but he left.
“I only had that one chance, and I took it,” Maryanne wrote. She fled back home to Florida just after the holidays, in the first days of the new year, 1987, shortly before Michelle ran into Larry Lee and was never seen alive again. “I bought a bus ticket and my son and I stayed on that bus for three days. It has taken me most of my life to forget Larry. He ruined my life,” she confided to Sasha. “I don’t want to relive it again.
“Sara helped me change my life, the first change of many. She was my only friend and I never forgot what she did for me and my son. Larry Lee Smith is not the type of human being that needs to be free. He is better off behind bars where they know how to treat men like him, give him what he deserves.”
15. CHANNEL 6 NEWS
In the fall of 2010, when KPD Investigator Jeff Day began looking into the cold case, twenty-three years had passed since Michelle Anderson’s disappearance and death. No one who knew the facts of the case doubted the guilt of Larry Lee, but the limited and lost physical evidence remained a barrier to proving it in a court of law. Neither the investigative file compiled by retired KPD Investigator York nor the forensic evidence collected by Dr. Bass could be accounted for. So… where to begin?
On the way back from a prison interview related to another cold case he was working, Day stopped by the TBI office in Crossville to meet with the agent assigned to Michelle’s case. Jim Moore had been the TBI agent assigned back when the remains were found, but he’d been promoted not long afterward. He was replaced by Tommy Callahan, who had been hired away from the Highway Patrol. For the next two decades, the case had belonged to him. At the time of Day’s visit, Agent Callahan was weeks away from retirement himself. Like his KPD counterparts, Callahan wasn’t sure what had become of the physical evidence; he didn’t even know it was missing. But he agreed to make copies of certain case documents for Day, who wondered silently why the TBI was being selective in their sharing, since the KPD was actually handling the investigation.
In the meantime, Day began following up with the people on Sasha’s “Who’s Who” list. After his meeting with Sasha, he spoke with York and interviewed Anita, Sara and Chas, each of whom reiterated the familiar details they’d already shared with Sasha. Only Dr. Bass would add something new.
Day made an appointment to meet with the retired forensic anthropologist in South Stadium Hall, underneath Neyland Stadium, where the Anthropology Department has been located in former dorm rooms at the University of Tennessee for close to forty years. Day followed Dr. Bass into a room lined with shelves of long boxes from which he slid out box FC 89-01 and placed it on the large wooden table before them. Bass removed the lid and Day’s eyes rested on some small bones and other pieces of forensic material, items Dr. Bass reasoned might one day yield damning evidence. That day might have finally arrived.
When a family requests the return of remains after a forensic examination, as Michelle’s family had done, certain bones or other material, which might eventually help determine the cause of death in an unsolved case, can be withheld. Inside box FC 89-01 were some bones—mostly finger and toe—and nails. Dr. Bass had determined that at least two of the nails might be from Michelle’s fingers.
Shortly after Day met with Dr. Bass, he had lunch with Anita. He gave her the news about the remains Dr. Bass still had, including the nails. Michelle would have fought back, Anita assured him. It was a long shot, Day told her, but he would send those nails off for DNA testing. That was exciting news to Anita.
For his next move, Day decided to run a cold-case television piece on Knoxville’s WATE Channel 6 Evening News. When he told Sasha his plan, she was thrilled, but also wondered what Day hoped to gain by it. Everyone familiar with the case seemed to believe that Larry Lee was guilty. “So what will the angle of the TV spot be?” Sasha asked Day, “or is it just to reopen the cold case?”
“Usually we do these stories if we don’t have a suspect and need the public to call in,” Day said. “So, I don’t know if it will help or not.” But he had a feeling about this.
Anita was highly in favor of the television feature. All these actions and developments once again brought a glimmer of hope that Michelle might get justice. But Anita declined to go before the camera—a decision she’d made after some internal struggle and a flashback to the television interview she’d given back in 1989, when she’d declared that she’d like to kill whoever was responsible for her daughter’s murder.
“It is still so hard to verbalize what I really feel,” Anita confessed. “Sasha, you know that. No, I told Jeff I don’t want to be interviewed on TV. Been there before and found it very uncomfortable. I feel guilty that I declined, like I’m failing Michelle by not doing it. But I don’t know why they would need my mug on TV. Just another poor, pitiful victim. It breaks my heart when I see families being interviewed. I just think it’s such an invasion.”
The segment aired on the six o’clock news on Thursday, February 24, 2011, and ran for three minutes and twenty-four seconds. It opened with a graphic behind WATE 6 News anchorwoman Lori Tucker that read “COLD CASE” and featured police crime-scene tape angled across the bottom of the screen.
“Tonight a Knoxville Police investigator is carefully looking at a cold case involving the disappearance and murder of a teenager more than twenty years ago,” Tucker said. The graphic shifted to a map of eastern Tennessee with a picture of Michelle on the right. “In January 1987, fifteen-year-old Michelle Anderson from Knoxville was reported missing. Two years later her body turns up in Crossville. Police believe Anderson was murdered and have a person of interest. Six News reporter Mona Nair has more on the case.”
Nair appeared on the screen, a hint of her native Indian accent flavoring her earnest delivery. “This is the story of a Knoxville teenager who went out to a party with her friends. Police say they found an older man who helped them buy alcohol. Investigators say she was last seen leaving in a truck with that man. Two years later h
er body turns up in Cumber-land County.”
The graphic showed another striking studio portrait of Michelle, taken not long before her disappearance. Day’s voice broke in: “She was a pretty popular girl, pretty outgoing.”
The image changed to the red-brick Tacoma Trail house that Michelle’s family lived in at the time. Nair continued, “Michelle Anderson’s case first came to investigators as a report of a missing teenager. Police say the fifteen-year-old left her home in 1987 to go to a party with some friends.” The picture panned right to a young Michelle leaning against a palm tree, a photo taken on a family vacation. “Sometime that night police say she met this man, Larry Lee Smith”—the image switched to Larry Lee’s TBI Sex Offender Registry photo—“who helped the underage group buy alcohol, then stayed with the crowd.”
Investigator Day appeared on camera, seated in the KPD conference room. Mona Nair sat opposite him. “Jeff Day is still putting together the pieces of this story, but what he says they do know is that Smith was last seen dropping off the rest of the group at this intersection,”—the screen showed the intersection sign at the corner of Cherry and Jefferson—“then leaving with Michelle still in his truck.”
Michelle’s high school picture appeared while Day narrated: “What happened after she left with him, I’m not sure. Only he can tell us.”
Next Mona Nair sat down with forensic anthropologist Dr. Bill Bass in the living room of his condo. “Two years after Michelle was missing, Dr. Bass was called to Cumberland County.” The screen image changed to a close-up photo of Dr. Bass and his team of experts in January 1989, excavating at the recovery site of Michelle’s remains. “Dr. Bass was the forensic anthropologist for the Tennessee State Medical Examiner’s System at that time.”
“A man walking his dogs outside Crossville in Cumberland County discovered some skeletal remains,” Bass recounted.
“Dr. Bass says the jewelry and dental records found at the scene helped quickly identify the remains as Michelle’s,” Nair said. “They believe she’d been murdered.” Another recovery-scene photo showed red rectangular flags marking the locations of Michelle’s scattered remains. “But with two years of decomposition it was tough to get evidence that would link the body to a killer. With the bones they did gather, investigators say they weren’t able to narrow down an exact cause of death either. They could tell that she hadn’t been beaten or stabbed.” The screen image now rested on the picture of a smiling Michelle wearing the striped shirt with the turned-up collar and the crab medallion pendant, the one used in her “missing child” posters when she’d first disappeared.
Voice of Dr. Bass: “Could have been strangled, could have been smothered, could have been drugged—some drug used that rendered her unconscious or caused death.”
The screen image now changed back to the TBI Sex Offender Registry photo of Larry Lee. “Since Michelle’s body was found,” Nair said, “Smith, the last person she was seen with, has spent time behind bars for a case of sexual battery in Georgia.” The camera zoomed in closer on the image of Larry Lee. “Today he is a registered sex offender living in Seymour. It’s a case police still hope to solve.” The segment wrapped with Day informing Nair that KPD had some new evidence they hoped would help them break the case.
Sasha knew he was talking about the possible DNA on the nails, but he didn’t specifically mention that in the piece. She let out a deep sigh of relief to finally see the case portrayed in an accurate way in a public forum. No more of this garbage about Michelle being dropped off at the corner of Cherry and Jefferson. No. She’d ridden off into eternity in the truck of Larry Lee Smith, who, Sasha later learned, happened to be watching Channel 6 News the very night the piece aired.
Sasha emailed Day right after she watched it:
I really liked the TV spot. All the early reports always repeated the same nonsense about Michelle last being seen ”when a friend dropped her at the corner of Cherry & Jefferson.” This one paints a real picture. She drove off with Larry Lee, and it named him! Yes! Progress!
Day quickly replied:
At least the truth is out. I’ve been by his place a few times. I just have to decide if I want to bring him in before the DNA test is back on her nails, or wait. Either way, he will have to come in and talk.
Mona Nair reports on the reopening of the cold case.
Mona Nair interviews Dr. Bill Bass regarding the discovery and retrieval of Michelle Anderson’s remains twenty years before.
16. JOEY
Joey Ray Smith has a big heart, a quick wit, a firm and confident handshake and a sharp tongue which he can fire off pretty hastily if he thinks he’s been given a reason to—and sometimes it doesn’t take much. It was one of the first things Sasha learned about him after she’d made contact.
In Sara’s talks with Sasha, she’d made several references to her son, Joey, whom she spoke to occasionally. “He’s a good kid,” Sara said. “He’s nothing like his father. He won’t have anything to do with him.”
Joey was now thirty years old and living in the Fern Avenue house with his wife and daughter, with another child on the way. Sasha had driven by there one day when she was in Knoxville. She just wanted to see the place. She guided her vehicle down the narrow, sidewalkless street and stopped before she reached the house. But the high elevation of the snug street and the absence of any trees or bushes in front of the houses made remaining discreet a challenge. She’d been there only a minute or so when Joey’s wife, Natalie, walked out into the small front yard. Her gaze was poised and direct. She wasn’t afraid, or if she was, she contained it well. Can I help you? she seemed to ask through her arched eyebrows. It hadn’t been Sasha’s intention to alarm this assertive and protective young wife and mother.
“I’m doing some research into an old matter,” Sasha said.
“I think I know what this is about,” Natalie said. “He’s bad. He’s not allowed to come around here. We’re moving. We bought another house.”
Sasha was caught off guard. Whenever she had contacted people associated with Larry Lee or Michelle Anderson, they usually expressed surprise (or relief) that someone was still interested in that old case. But Natalie knew exactly why Sasha was there, even if she didn’t know exactly who Sasha was. Sasha would learn that police had been checking into the possibility that Larry Lee had been doing some work in South Knoxville too close to a daycare, a violation for a registered sex offender. Nothing came of that investigation, but word got around, because Natalie kept a few preschoolers along with her own child at the house. A couple of pieces of outdoor play equipment dotted the tiny front yard. It wasn’t really a daycare; Natalie was more like a babysitter. But a neighbor who knew about Larry Lee had printed flyers and distributed them throughout the neighborhood. Natalie knew her family was being scrutinized, which is why she and Joey had decided to move.
“Please tell your husband that I’d like to talk with him,” Sasha said, handing Natalie her card. “If he’s willing. No pressure.”
“All right,” Natalie said, putting on a cordial but guarded smile. “I guess I could do that.” It was a crazy long-shot, and as Sasha expected, Joey didn’t call. But now he knew she was around and wanting to talk with him; she had established that much. Sasha wanted to know what Joey knew—what he believed—about the crimes of his biological father, and how those crimes had been handled within the family.
After the chance encounter with Joey’s wife, Sasha located him online. She could see some of his online communications, in which he sometimes displayed his sharp-tongue, cutting banter and quick, caustic wit. He also posted numerous loving messages to and about his wife, his kids and his grandmother-turned-adoptive-mother, Ruby.
After the television spot ran on the WATE 6 news, Sasha reached out to Joey through a work email address he’d listed on his Facebook page. She attached a link to the news feature and sent the following message:
Joey, I’ve been researching this case for a couple of years. I would like to speak to you
briefly and ask a few questions. I don’t want to intrude or upset you, but I need your insights into a few issues. Please.
Within a few days she had a response:
I was seven when this happened… I’m not sure what kinda help I could be seeing as I disowned him but your [sic] welcome to call me anytime after five and before nine.
He included his cell phone number.
Nine years earlier, when Joey was twenty-one and his biological half-sister—the daughter Sara had given up at age six months—was eighteen, he’d searched for and found her. On the date of the scheduled meeting with Sasha, a Sunday, Joey and Natalie had attended the funeral service for his half-sister’s adoptive mother, who’d died suddenly. Joey had been a pallbearer at the funeral.
“Sorry for being late,” he apologized as he and Natalie took a seat in Sasha’s hotel room. “I’m a stickler for being on time.”
They were a handsome couple. Joey was of average height with a strong, stocky build. Sasha had seen a picture of Joey and Sara seated side-by-side when Joey was about eleven and Sara twenty-six. She could see that Joey had his mother’s eyes and dark hair. Yet his wavy mouth and sloping nose resembled those of Larry Lee.
“We’ve met before,” Natalie joked to Sasha. In the fifth month of her second pregnancy, she looked lovely, her complexion lightly freckled, her make-up understated and tasteful. Natalie’s light-brown hair, layered in a stylish cut, came to just below her shoulders, and her straight-from-the-funeral attire was low-key.
The common denominator of this encounter was that both Sasha and Joey wanted answers. It was the only reason Joey had agreed to come. He knew, of course, about the Georgia kidnapping for which Larry Lee had done twenty years. And he’d heard something (very little really) about the case in Florida, but he’d never heard about the Knoxville case of Michelle Anderson—or the fact that his father was a suspect in her disappearance and murder—until he saw the cold-case feature on the news.
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