Don't Tell a Soul

by M. William Phelps

  He read the text and found it rather odd that KC would mention Friday night, his not stopping by, or a specific time, eight-thirty. Why so much detail about Friday? Hadn’t he just run into KC the previous night, Saturday, at the Burger King? Why wouldn’t she have said anything then?

  “I thought it was kind of weird,” he commented later.

  He responded to the text by telling KC he was coming out to cut her lawn and then going out to Red Oak to spend the day with his girls. They were planning on grilling.

  Before he arrived at KC’s to mow her lawn later that morning, she sent him a text to the effect of You are a sweetheart. The yard is bad, but I don’t want you to do it on Father’s Day.

  KC then restated in a responding text, now for a second time, that she had not seen Michael on Friday or Saturday.

  He looked at his phone and thought, again, how strange it was for her to keep mentioning those days.

  Why is she doing this?

  Even odder to him was that after he had gotten that “come ASAP” text and called her while he was on break, she had not once asked about him coming over at 8:30 P.M. or on Saturday morning. It was as if that eight-thirty comment only mattered in the context of her texting him.

  During that same text conversation on Sunday morning, KC also mentioned that she had set off several “foggers” inside her home and had been away because the house was being bombed with poison. She’d had a terrible roach problem inside the house because of all the garbage and she was trying to fix it.

  Later, just after noon on that Sunday: Quick question: Does that fogger stuff work? . . . Can’t afford an exterminator.

  Michael texted back, saying he believed the foggers worked as long as you followed the instructions.

  * * *

  The more Michael thought about it, the more he understood, and explained to SCSO detectives that the texts KC had sent him implied that she was at home on Friday evening and Saturday morning, waiting for him to call or come over. KC had noted that fact in several additional texts she had sent to him throughout that weekend. In addition, having foggers placed in her house had allowed her to tell him that she was out for at least six hours on Sunday. KC was, in effect, using him to create a timeline of her whereabouts.

  The SCSO detectives believed Kim Cargill was trying to provide herself with an alibi, using Michael to lay the groundwork for where she was at all times throughout that weekend. She had never, in the four years he had known her by then, texted him so many times, with as much detail, as she had during that one weekend in June when Cherry Walker went missing and was murdered.

  Interestingly, when the SCSO would later go into KC’s phone records and have a look at all of her texts, many of the text messages she sent and received from Michael Darwin during that weekend had been saved. Meanwhile, others pertaining to matters that would not indicate where she was or what she was doing, or at what time, had been deleted. Even more compelling as evidence against KC were texts she shared with him throughout that weekend that had been systematically deleted. She’d saved one at 4:14 P.M., for example, but then had deleted one at 11:45 A.M. and another at 1:05 P.M., leaving just the one at four-fourteen. If you took all the texts from that weekend and laid them out in a narrative, it would tell a story of Kim Cargill asking her friend to come over, giving him specific times, noting that she was waiting at home or doing other chores; then, when he failed to show up, there she was asking him why he hadn’t come over, leaving the impression to anyone reading these texts that she was at home the entire time.

  Kimberly Cargill thought she was smarter than the detectives investigating her for capital felony murder.

  31

  ON JULY 12, 2010, WITH KC in jail, the SCSO believed they had enough on Suzanne Jones-Davis to make an arrest on charges of tampering with physical evidence. The main reason why the SCSO wanted to get Suzanne into the interview suite—beyond the fact she had broken the law—was to see how much more she knew about her friend Kim Cargill and her whereabouts and actions during those days leading up to and after Cherry Walker’s murder. Maybe Suzanne held the final piece of the puzzle Detective James Riggle needed to prepare an arrest warrant for KC on charges of capital murder.

  Riggle, Rathbun, a third detective and Sergeant Mike Stinecipher drove to the McKinney, Texas, residence that Suzanne shared with her husband. They knocked on the door with an arrest warrant and search warrant in hand.

  It was just before midnight—a good time, cops knew, to shake people up by rustling them awake. The time alone puts people off their game. The charges against Suzanne were serious. She could see jail time for her crimes.

  Rathbun announced both warrants when Suzanne’s husband answered the door. He was shocked and amazed at what was happening. When Suzanne came down to see what was going on, Rathbun read Suzanne her Miranda rights.

  Her days of helping KC cover up a crime were over.

  The major crime Suzanne had committed, perhaps without knowing, was when she went into KC’s cell phone and changed the passwords. That phone, at the time, was in the custody of the SCSO. Suzanne had gone into a piece of physical evidence the SCSO had confiscated and tampered with it. It was no different than if she had walked into the police station, stealthily made her way into the evidence collection room, found a piece of evidence in a plastic bag and changed it in some way.

  While detectives searched Suzanne’s home, Ron Rathbun sat down with her and asked if she wanted to talk to the SCSO. It would be in Suzanne’s best interest to tell everything she knew at this point, he said. Suzanne had long, flowing, somewhat curly brown hair with reddish-blond highlights. She was stocky, with trusting eyes and fair skin. To Rathbun, this wife and stepmother seemed defeated. They sat in her dining room, while the search went on around them. Suzanne’s husband, Marty (pseudonym), stood nearby. He had a look of disbelief on his face, along with a hectoring, smug tone to his voice whenever he spoke.

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?”1 Rathbun began.

  “I did help her,” Suzanne admitted.

  Suzanne explained that she went into KC’s house in Whitehouse to retrieve “some belongings” and “some paintings” and “some clothing.”

  “Do you have any of that stuff here?” Rathbun wanted to know.

  “I do. Yes, in boxes upstairs . . .”

  Suzanne said that she had gone to KC’s house for the first time back on July 2 and returned to her home in McKinney at about ten o’clock on that same night.

  “The reason for this arrest warrant,” Rathbun explained, “is because of you trying to change some of Miss Cargill’s passwords.”

  “I didn’t know it was illegal to help a friend.”

  “I warned her,” Marty said at one point. “I told her not to get involved in all of this. I told her not to go to . . . Whitehouse.”

  “Are you aware of what’s going on?” Rathbun asked Suzanne. He wanted to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation.

  “I am very aware of the murder investigation going on in Smith County,” Suzanne said. This had to be a surprise for the SCSO. The SCSO was under the impression, perhaps giving Suzanne the benefit of the doubt, that she only knew about the child custody matter. Apparently, KC had told her about the murder investigation.

  Suzanne was going to be handcuffed and taken into custody and booked downtown. Her mug shot would be taken, and her story part of KC’s legacy forever. The local media would soon latch onto Suzanne’s involvement and run with it, posting her mug shot on the nightly news and in the newspapers, branding her an alleged felon and co-conspirator in helping a friend hide evidence in a potential murder case.

  Upstairs, amid those items Suzanne had described without hesitation, searchers found a “spiral notebook,” which contained notes “about information on Cargill’s accounts, i.e., cell phone, bank, Facebook, etc.” They also uncovered a letter KC had written to Suzanne, detailing the list of things she wanted Suzanne to do.

  A McKinney police
officer needed to make the official arrest, and he did. Soon, though, Suzanne was transferred to Smith County Jail, the same place where her “friend” was just about a permanent resident. She was put in a cell until she could be arraigned, but she was unable to post bond.

  As investigators wrapped up their work at Suzanne’s house, word arrived for Rathbun and Riggle that Orchid Cellmark, the company responsible for the forensics on those items found at the crime scene and at KC’s house, had some results to share.

  Perfect timing.

  The main piece of information that the SCSO was interested in on Cellmark’s report: Kimberly Cargill could not be excluded as a contributor on the creamer package which was found near the deceased Cherry Walker. The findings, expressed as overwhelming odds, were not in KC’s favor. To a high degree of certainty she had touched that creamer package found in between Cherry’s legs at the crime scene. The SCSO had definitive DNA evidence to prove KC was possibly at the scene where Cherry Walker’s body had been found.

  For Rathbun, Riggle and the rest of the team, that information—so impartial and scientific—was enough to finish off the arrest warrant on charges of capital murder for Kim Cargill. They presented it to a judge for his signature.

  * * *

  On July 14, 2010, the judge signed the arrest warrant for Kim Cargill. KC would be arrested on charges of capital murder, which meant her case was going to be eligible for a death penalty status.

  The warrant contained three separate counts. One asserted: [Kim] had intentionally or knowingly caused the death of Cherry Walker while in the course of committing or attempting to commit a robbery of Cherry Walker [phone and purse]; second: [she] intentionally and knowingly caused the death of Cherry Walker while committing the offense of Retaliation . . . on account of Cherry Walker’s service as a witness; thirdly: Kim Cargill wanted to “prevent or delay the service” of Cherry as a witness.

  The narrative, which was spelled out in the seven-page, single-spaced warrant, detailed how KC could have been responsible for Cherry Walker’s abduction and murder and also how she had “conspired,” with “three individuals,” to cover it up. The warrant claimed the medical examiner had concluded Cherry Walker’s death was the result of “homicidal violence”; though no means concerning how she was murdered were outlined.

  Thus, the mystery remained: How had Kim Cargill, if guilty, killed Cherry Walker? And how had she transported her body alone?

  Several additional pieces of evidence came in as the warrant was served, one being a stack of cell phone records previously unavailable. As they sat down and studied these records, Riggle and the team discovered some compelling, interesting information: They noted how many times KC had called Cherry Walker during the days leading up to June 18, 2010, and how many times she actually spoke to Cherry (or Cherry’s cell phone number, at least) on that Friday. But then, after that Friday, suddenly no more calls to Cherry Walker’s phone from KC’s phone. She had stopped calling Cherry altogether. The SCSO theorized that the reason she had stopped calling was because Kim Cargill knew Cherry was dead. There was no reason to call.

  It’s the subtle clues killers leave behind that catch them.

  * * *

  The warrant said a lot about the legalities surrounding Kim Cargill’s then-alleged crimes. It detailed the lead-up to a brutal, vicious murder. It provided plenty of circumstantial and forensic evidence linking Kimberly Cargill to the abduction and murder of Cherry Walker, along with evidence that KC also poured an accelerant over Cherry and lit her on fire.

  Amid all of the allegations, there was nothing in the warrant to explain who Kim Cargill was, where she came from or how and why her life had spiraled into a chaotic mess.

  That was an entirely different story—one of violence and psychotic behaviors, purported abuse and medical afflictions, which began, if you believe Kimberly Dianne Cargill, during her childhood in Mississippi.

  PART THREE

  The lamp of the body is the eye. If your eye is sound, your whole body will be filled with light; but if your eye is bad, your whole body will be in darkness. And if the light in you is darkness, how great will the darkness be.

  —Matthew 6: 22–23

  32

  MISSISSIPPI IS ONE OF THOSE charming states wherein you speak with a local and there’s no mistaking he or she has been born and raised in this magnificent place. There is a sense of honor and community in the way Mississippians talk about their homes, the land, the people they call their neighbors. How they brag—quite humbly—about the mighty river that bears their state’s name, or the soul food, the size of the catfish, the deltas, the cotton fields or the kindness most everyone you meet greets you with. They say “gree-its” for “grits,” and “hey-a” for “here,” an accent state residents are especially proud of displaying.

  Rachel Wilson, the only girl born to a family of boys, grew up in a “strict” Mississippi household, where her father was said to be “domineering” and “often spoke to Rachel’s mother as though she was his child.” It was a tough way to meander through life as a kid in the 1960s, Rachel later explained in court and in accompanying documents. What’s more, going to high school and falling in love with your sweetheart, you were under the impression that life was going to be nothing but the dreamy bliss of a fairy tale. For Rachel, that fantasy boy was Charlie Snyder (pseudonym), a kid who was said to have “worshipped” the ground Rachel walked on—at least in those early days of courting.

  A loner, Rachel was a girl some later said was “hard to get along with.” Beautiful and elegant and the complete Southern belle, Rachel did not keep many close friends besides Charlie.

  Rachel enjoyed being the center of attention, but wanted things done her way, said a report detailing Rachel’s adolescence and early life.2

  Feeling pressured, or perhaps feeling the pressure of that rebellious teenage noose tightening, Rachel and Charlie decided to elope during their senior year of high school, ditching the education system in favor of the puppy love they shared. Rachel was seventeen years old, still a child, really. Some would look at this later, even Rachel herself, and conclude that she had married Charlie at such a young age in order to “escape her father’s house” and get away from a dad with whom she did not get along.

  Charlie had been raised by a foster family since he was five years old. His biological parents, according to that same Initial Application for Writ of Habeas Corpus document, had issues with substances. He rarely saw them.

  The year 1966 defined the civil rights movements across the South with marches and protests seemingly taking place every day. In June of that year, James Meredith, the first African-American student at the University of Mississippi, was shot and wounded by a sniper just after he started what was called the “March Against Fear.” (After he healed and was released from the hospital, he was able to join the other marchers before they reached Jackson, Mississippi, and completed the trek.) It was a volatile time in America, especially for anyone living in the South. Rachel and Charlie found a trailer home that Charlie’s foster parents helped him pay for and decided to start a family, merely five months after getting married. When they looked back, the couple realized it probably wasn’t the best time to begin having babies. After all, Charlie wasn’t working. Rachel, pregnant and not yet a legal adult in many states, had a job at the local phone company.

  Kimberly Dianne was born to Rachel and Charlie on November 30, 1966. From the first moments of her life, it was clear to Charlie and Rachel that their child was going to struggle. According to the Initial Application source, Kim suffered from projectile vomiting. She was allergic to baby formula. Rachel had suffered from anemia and other ailments for the entire nine months she carried Kim. It was a tough pregnancy for this young mother.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, Rachel had not taken maternity leave from her job (in fear of losing it) after giving birth to Kim. She went back to work as soon as she felt physically up to it. Charlie, a young, immature kid, just out of high
school, decided on a career in the military and joined the National Guard as Kim turned one month old, leaving Rachel to take care of the child by herself, while trying to maintain a full-time job. The only solution Rachel could muster was switching to second-shift work, from three o’clock to eleven at night, making it easier for her to find someone to babysit.

  Kim’s teenage aunt—Charlie’s sister—picked up the slack while Charlie was gone and took over parental duties during Rachel’s shift on most working nights. But soon, that companionship itch began and Rachel found herself going out after work, instead of heading directly home to her baby girl. During one of those nights out and about, Rachel ran into Charlie’s best friend, Calvin Dorsett (pseudonym), a boy Rachel herself had known from school. Cal was tall and handsome and strong. He was just like Charlie in so many ways and filled the role of companion, lover and friend. The major difference between the two was that Cal was there and Charlie was not.

  Rachel often stayed out late at night with [Cal] after her work shift ended, the Initial Application report claimed.

  This, of course, did not sit well with Charlie upon his return from basic training. Seeing the two of them together—his best friend and his wife—was “very difficult,” as one might imagine. It seemed everywhere Rachel’s now-estranged husband went, once he was back on the local scene, there the two were, in his face, flaunting the relationship. The first time they ran into each other, Charlie swung at his former friend, hit him and wound up spending a night in the local clinker.

  Rachel later claimed Charlie “drank and was abusive” toward her after he returned from military training, so she filed for divorce. The dissolution of their brief marriage was not to be a harmonious legal proceeding, however. Charlie was unhappy dissolving a marriage that, in all fairness, should have never taken place. Charlie fought Rachel on just about every issue, while little Kim sat on the sidelines, pulled from one courthouse and visitation to the next, her developing mind absorbing all of the emotional and verbal attacks, the screaming and fighting. It was, some might contend, a pivotal point of time in Kim’s life, when she was soaking up everything her parents were doing to one another, learning how to live her own life later on and parent her future children. Others would argue that Kim was just a few years old, far too young to understand or grasp the animosity between her parents.