Similar Transactions: A True Story

by S. R. Reynolds

  She then provided details about Michelle’s unsolved 1987 murder and attached a link to the Channel 6 cold-case video that KPD Investigator Jeff Day had initiated.

  “Smith is a power rapist,” Sasha wrote. Then she explained Larry Lee’s process, pointing out how he befriends and then assaults young girls, using hitting and choking as his primary means of overpowering his victims.

  Sasha forwarded a copy of the email to Anita, who then composed her own response and sent it on to Larry Lee’s attorney as well:

  Mr. Harper,

  My name is Anita Anderson, Michelle was my daughter. Sasha Reynolds has been collecting information for years, starting out in Michelle’s behalf. Smith is a dangerous rapist who doesn’t need to be released into society. He was and is the main suspect in my daughter’s death. He will probably never be convicted for her murder, but I pray that he will be incarcerated for the rape of Ayesha Mack. At least we will have some peace, knowing that he will be off the streets for another twenty years.

  Anita Anderson

  Of course there was no reply, but Sasha and Anita felt optimistic that the messages had reached their intended target.

  As the trial drew near, Sasha hoped for some media coverage, but there wasn’t any, and she wasn’t sure how she could help bring this about. In early January 2013, she sent out several emails to Channel 6 reporter Mona Nair, who’d covered the cold-case piece, and to the news director at that station, but she’d gotten no response.

  A couple weeks later Sasha stumbled upon a series of articles that ran under the headline “Slaying in Sequoyah Hills: Who Killed Rose Bush?” They told the story of infamous playgirl-turned-Knoxville-madam Hazel Davidson—the former employer of both Sara and Maryanne—who may have played a role in the brutal murder of a prominent businessman’s wife in 1969. The businessman had been a paramour of Hazel Davidson; the late madam remained a suspect in the sensational death-by-hire case, which was never solved. The article was written by veteran Knoxville News Sentinel journalist Jim Balloch.

  Sasha had never heard of Hazel Davidson during the years she’d lived in Knoxville, but during her investigation into Larry Lee, she’d run into the name a number of times. In the first year that Michelle went missing, one of the false leads Anita had followed took her to Hazel Davidson’s eponymous upscale brothel.

  Sasha decided to reach out to Balloch. She found an email address for him at the newspaper and sent him a message:

  I am investigating and writing about an unsolved murder in Knoxville (not Busch; really enjoyed the articles, though). I am writing to determine if you are still at the paper. I don’t live in Tennessee.

  Balloch replied the next day:

  Yep, still here.

  Sasha responded with a brief email highlighting Michelle’s unsolved murder, her own post-2007 involvement, and a chronicle of Larry Lee’s other assaults, including the one for which he was about to go on trial. She hoped to stir Balloch’s curiosity.

  A couple of days later he replied:

  Is the new case here in Knoxville? Where?

  Sasha became hopeful and immediately filled Balloch in on the present case and her own research on Michelle Anderson. She expressed hope that he, or someone else at the paper, would cover the trial.

  A few days later, she received a response:

  My memory of the Michelle Anderson case has been jogged by a fellow reporter. I once wrote a story about it, when it looked like cops were on the verge of breaking it. Have you talked to retired KPD Detective Randy York? He probably knows more about this case than anyone.

  This was exciting. Sasha had read through all of the local newspaper articles pertaining to Michelle Anderson—most of them had been included in Dr. Bass’s notes—but she hadn’t realized that Balloch wrote one of them. After getting his memory “jogged,” Balloch had reviewed the article he’d written at the request of KPD Investigator Randy York in January of 1990. He recalled that he’d been instructed not to use Larry Lee’s name in the article, although these twenty-plus years later, he couldn’t remember why. Sasha reminded him that it was because Larry Lee had lawyered up and claimed harassment by York and the KPD.

  She also reminded him about the trial date and let him know that she would be attending along with Anita and two of Larry Lee’s early victims. They would all be there to support the current victim. Sasha ended by asking if Balloch might cover the trial.

  Jim Balloch’s reply came within a couple of hours:

  Possibly. I have forwarded your original emails to Jamie Satterfield, our normal court reporter; but since I now remember that I wrote about Michelle’s case, I might ask her to let me deal with it.

  In either case, we likely would not cover this trial gavel to gavel [the trial for a hit-and-run DUI in which several people had died was scheduled to begin on the same day], but approach it in another way. Maybe one pre-trial story connecting Michelle, and a follow-up story after the verdict. I’m not sure, I will have to talk to Jamie and our editors.

  Sasha forwarded the message on to Anita, who wrote back:

  You continue to amaze me! What cojones! What are your plans, when will you be here and is Bert coming with you?

  They began preparing for the pending trial. There was work to do. Anita and Sasha were organizing a gathering with Katherine McWilliams and Amanda Sanders, who wanted to be there to support Ayesha. Over the next couple of weeks, Sasha and Anita finalized plans and set up accommodations.

  Once they sent out the invitations, the process of getting everyone on board had been fairly effortless. Each wanted to come for their own personal reasons: they wanted to encourage Ayesha, they wanted to find some sense of closure, but most of all they wanted to support Anita. It was her stated wish to meet these women, these survivors who shared some piece of fate with her precious baby girl.

  26. BAND OF SISTERS

  Sasha and her husband Bert departed for Knoxville on Saturday, February 23, 2013, two days before the trial. After they checked into their downtown hotel, Sasha texted Ayesha, who was being bused in by the DA’s office and was scheduled to arrive that evening. Sasha wanted to make sure she had arrived safely.

  “I’m here,” Ayesha replied.

  “We’re all getting together tomorrow evening for dinner. Would you like to join us?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Great! I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  The next day, Ayesha met with Assistant District Attorney Leslie Nassios and KPD Investigator Patty Tipton to review the evidence and prepare for the trial. In the evening, Sasha and Bert went to Ayesha’s hotel and met her in the lobby. “There she is!” Bert said, smiling broadly and extending his hand as Ayesha stepped off the elevator.

  “Hi. It’s great to finally meet you,” Sasha added, giving Ayesha a hug.

  “Hi. Yes, it’s nice to meet you, too,” Ayesha replied shyly, deep dimples punctuating her cautious and friendly smile.

  Exiting the front door of the hotel at the close of a sunny afternoon, the trio walked into the cool and breezy evening air just as the sun was beginning to set. Temperatures were sliding from a high in the mid-fifties back to the February forties.

  “So, your mom didn’t come with you?” Sasha inquired. Ayesha had been put in a hotel room furnished with two queen-size beds in anticipation that she would.

  “No, she didn’t,” Ayesha replied, a pained expression on her face.

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. She said she wasn’t coming, so there wasn’t any point in asking.” What Ayesha didn’t say communicated as much as what she did.

  “There’s some tension between you and your mom?”

  “Yeah, there is,” Ayesha admitted, her eyes getting teary. “I needed her to come, but she didn’t.”

  They walked through the entrance of a popular downtown brewpub Sasha and Anita had picked for this occasion. Amanda, Katherine, and Katherine’s husband, Steve, were seated at a table just inside the door. Almost simu
ltaneously, Anita and Ted came walking in from the entrance in the back where they’d parked. Perfect timing. Sasha introduced everyone and they moved to an upstairs table along an exposed brick wall.

  “Guys at that end of the table,” instructed one of the women, and the group pulled out their heavy wooden chairs and sat down to partake in this remarkable assemblage. Entrees were ordered, along with a few glasses of blonde brew, and the women focused in on one another.

  While a series of tragedies had brought them together, there was a kind of triumph in this gathering. A culmination of crises encountered and overcome, in one way or another, had resulted in the banding together of these women across generations and decades, even as their private lives had carried on quite independently. They dubbed themselves the “Band of Sisters,” and Michelle was always at the silent center of their awareness.

  Anita had felt so guilty, she explained, so responsible for the fate of her daughter. But here were these other women—good, decent women—and it had happened to them, too. Their presence made her feel less isolated in her loss, less despair in her self-blame, less alone in the horror and grief she’d had to bear.

  “It’s wonderful that we’re all here together,” Sasha said, surveying the faces. “I just wish Sara were here. She would have loved this, and you would have really liked her. Maybe she sees us.”

  “I wish Sara were here, too,” Anita added. “She would have enjoyed meeting all of you and seeing Larry Lee get what he deserves.”

  “I heard about her today,” Ayesha said. During her time spent with Nassios and Investigator Tipton that afternoon, they had reviewed jailhouse phone calls between Larry Lee and his sister, Nancy. In one call, Nancy had informed him about Sara’s death. “He was real happy about that,” Ayesha said. “He didn’t like her at all.”

  “Oh, I bet!” Sasha responded. “She gave it her all to bring him to justice.”

  As the food arrived, the women continued their conversation, getting acquainted, at times laughing, at other times tearing up, sharing parts of their individual stories. Sasha would periodically put her hand on Ayesha’s back and give it a quick and reassuring rub. It was a gesture that would be repeated by nearly all the women that night and over the next couple of days. The group wrapped around her in protection and support, this brave little girl from the streets who’d overcome her fears to show up for the trial, something Larry Lee had predicted over and over that she would never do.

  For Ayesha, the early part of the day spent in preparation for the trial had been full of information and images that she’d yet to fully process in her mind. She knew Larry Lee had hooked her wrist with a looped neck tie, but she hadn’t known from where it had come or even how he’d done this; it all happened so quickly. But in Nassios’ office, Ayesha was shown the chain of neck ties found behind his bed.

  Yet as traumatizing as Larry Lee’s sexual assault upon her had been, she hadn’t been prepared for the images she was shown from Larry Lee’s phone, including a video of Khristy crying while disrobing. After seeing them, Ayesha felt like she’d unwittingly played a part in a mini horror show. She expressed her gratitude that everyone had come out to support her. It might have been too difficult for her to do it alone.

  At the other end of the table the men engaged in friendly and casual conversation throughout the dinner, the feeling of camaraderie extending there as well. Overall, a warm and uplifting atmosphere surrounded the gathering. As they brought the evening to a close, some sense of peace pervaded, even as they prepared psychologically for court in the morning. Only Ayesha, alone in her room, nervous about what she’d seen and what she would experience the next day, had difficulty falling asleep that night.

  Sasha awoke early the next morning and went down to the breakfast bar to retrieve a couple coffees. She spied the morning paper and its front-page headline: “A new focus on girl’s ’87 death—Chief suspect facing trial in unrelated case.” Jim Balloch had come through, writing the article himself. He’d called Sasha on Friday of the previous week, updating his information and getting contact numbers for those involved. Sasha bought several copies, rushed back to her room, and enthusiastically read through the article.

  “When Larry Lee Smith goes on trial this week for a 2011 kidnapping and rape,” the story began, “many eyes from the distant past will be on him. Smith, now 52, is the chief suspect in the unsolved disappearance and death 26 years ago of Michelle Anderson, a 15-year-old Fulton High School student. This week, Smith is facing trial in the aggravated rape of a young adult woman. She lived in the same apartment complex as Smith…”

  Sasha was thrilled with the reporting on the story, which highlighted the nature of the assault on Ayesha and included a detailed account of Michelle’s disappearance. The article did just what Balloch and Sasha had intended: it linked the crimes.

  “The two cases are unrelated,” Balloch wrote. “But Michelle Anderson’s mother and other family members plan to be in the courtroom. So do a couple of investigators, now retired, who pursued the case over the years. And so does a former Knoxville woman, who is writing a book on the case and whose son was a classmate of Michelle… Her book, to be titled Similar Transactions, will link Smith to several other crimes as well.” The long article included comments from Anita, Randy York and Grey Steed.

  It had been a long, long time, but finally, there it was, a factual account, in the newspaper, on page one.

  27. SHADES OF GRAY

  The trial of Larry Lee Smith began on Monday, February 25, 2013. The Band of Sisters and their spouses met in the lobby of Sasha and Bert’s hotel, just blocks from the courthouse. They were joined by Anita’s cousin Susan and her friend Bobbi. Ayesha had already been transported via shuttle from her hotel and was safely sequestered in the DA’s office until her time to testify.

  The group walked together down Main Street. When they entered the second-floor courtroom, jury selection was underway. Judge Bob R. “Bobby Ray” McGee, elected as the criminal court magistrate five years earlier, was presiding. He had been raised in Knoxville and was a graduate of the University of Tennessee College of Law.

  The group slid quietly onto the pale-oak bench second from the front, just behind the defense table. Larry Lee sat only ten feet away. From the top of his thin, white-gray hair—pulled neatly back into a three-inch ponytail—to the tip of his new, black-gray shoes, fifty-two-year-old Larry Lee was decked out entirely in shades of gray. His shirt, a shiny sheet metal gray, paired with a charcoal-colored tie, was tucked into wide, gray, pleated pants; his belt and hair tie were a complementary black. His pink, fleshy face, now devoid of a shaggy mustache, stood out against this smoky ensemble. Fifteen-plus months of starchy jail food had not been kind to his waistline. Not long after the group took their seats, Larry Lee turned to survey these newcomers. His slow attentive gaze moved down the line. He had a bold, confrontational look about him. A sneer was affixed to his face, which bore no trace of humility, embarrassment or shame. When his eyes rested on Sasha, his gaze morphed to a momentary glare. She was slightly taken aback by the brazen lock of his eyes—Had he read that morning’s article? Did he recognize her from the court hearing more than a year before? Did he know she was writing a book about him?—but then he continued his visual survey down the bench. Did he recognize Anita these more than twenty-five years since he’d met her the day after Michelle disappeared? They couldn’t be sure. Just before he’d turned around, Katherine and Amanda had stepped out; the group would have to wait to see if he recognized his victims from decades before.

  The jury pool filled most of the gallery benches on the opposite side of the center aisle. Looking over at the individuals seated there, Sasha was surprised to observe that they were entirely Caucasian except for a white-haired Asian gentleman. Ayesha was African-American. Could this be a problem?

  Sasha found the process of questioning potential jurors absorbing. Knox County Assistant District Attorney Leslie Nassios, dressed in a brown pantsuit with her hair held
back by a wide, tortoise-shell barrette, sought to identify and eliminate jurors who might have difficulty seeing past Ayesha’s semi-marginal lifestyle. She’d been a runaway teen, lived under an alias, travelled with a drug-dealing boyfriend, and been arrested for shoplifting. Nassios referenced these aspects of Ayesha’s lifestyle to probe prospective jurors for any probability they might be biased against her, and therefore unable to empathize with the trauma she had suffered at the hands of Larry Lee. Most denied any bias.

  The DA also asked if any of the potential jurors had read the newspaper article that had appeared that morning in the Knoxville News Sentinel, the first to link Larry Lee to the unsolved Michelle Anderson case. Sasha had considered it a real victory, but the DA’s office wasn’t so happy. They had to cull the jurors for any prejudice it might have caused.

  Nassios had predicted that jury selection would take two to three hours and she was right on the mark. When it was done, the jury of twelve consisted of six women and six men, one of whom was the white-haired Asian man. The thirteenth alternate juror was also male.

  The court took a brief recess and Larry Lee was escorted to a small holding room behind the judge’s bench. The remainder of the jury pool had been dismissed, making available the benches on the left. When the court reconvened, Sasha and the group shifted to that side of the courtroom, second bench back, behind the prosecutor’s table. Katherine and Amanda returned and sat on the end, closest to the aisle.

  As Larry Lee exited the holding room and walked toward the defense table, his gaze landed squarely on Amanda, then moved over to Katherine. All sets of eyes in the group saw it: the flinch, the momentary lapse of the sneer, the quick look of surprise and perhaps mild panic as he recognized who they were. As soon as he sat down, he leaned in to his attorney and Sasha overheard him asking, “They aren’t going to testify, are they?”