1976
Calvin Whitehead stepped into the witness box and raised his right
hand. The bailiff swore him in. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the
slick lawyer ooze toward him from the defendant’s table.
Melvin smiled cordially.
“Would you please state your name and occupation?”
“My name is Calvin Whitehead,” he answered in a voice louder than
he had intended. “I’m the chief
toxicologist for the state of Alabama.”
“And would you state your credentials, please?”
“Well, I’ve been the state’s toxicologist for twelve years. Before that I was an assistant for five.”
“And what education and training did you receive prior to that?”
“Well, most of my training occurred on the job. Before that I studied zoology in college.”
“Zoology?” Melvin asked. “Like
zoos and stuff?” His nose wrinkled like he could smell the monkey cage from
where he was standing in open court.
“That’s right,” Calvin said.
“I studied animals.”
“Okay, Mr. Whitehead. Let’s
get down to the point. Last year, you
performed an autopsy on Taylor Smith, is that correct?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“And what did he die of?”
“Excuse me?”
“What did you determine was Mr. Smith’s cause of death?”
The toxicologist looked at the DA for help, but Henry Russell was
busy rifling through papers spread out over the prosecutor’s table.
Transcript
of Interview with Melvin Little conducted by Louella Harper 3/27/1980
Melvin: (laughing) That’s what was so funny about that case. I remember asking the state’s witness, the
toxicologist, “What did the guy die of?”
He said, “Well, I’m not sure.” (More laughter)
I said, “What do you mean you’re not sure? You have the report
don’t you? You have all the resources of
the state of Alabama at your disposal.
You even have a new lab up there in Auburn with all that fancy new equipment. And you mean to tell me you can’t tell me
what killed this man?”
He said, “No, I can’t.”
I looked at the judge and the judge looked at me and the judge
said to him, “Cal, you’ve been determining cause of death for fifteen
years. Just tell us what killed this
poor man.”
He said, “Judge, all I can tell you…” He reached into his
pocket. “I can tell you what the black
folks are saying.”
I moved to strike that. The
judge granted my motion.
The judge said, “Just tell us—as an officer of the court—what he
died of?”
The toxicologist said, “Judge, I don’t know.” He pulled out a vial of black powder. “But I found this at the scene. It was in the car sprinkled all around the
body. We’ve studied this at the
lab. The FBI has analyzed it. We don’t know what it is or if it had
anything to do with Mr. Smith’s death.
It’s just the strangest thing...”
* * *
Louella went to the sheriff’s office and found Sheriff Ford
standing at the coffee machine gabbing with a secretary. When Louella interrupted, he greeted her with
a smile full of big, square teeth.
Louella politely refused a cup of coffee.
“Do you remember the powder found at the scene around Taylor
Smith’s body?” Louella asked.
“Powder? You mean like
cocaine?”
“No,” Louella said. “I mean
like some kind of voodoo powder. Did you
ever find anything in the car or on the victim’s person?”
“Voodoo powder?” Ford
laughed and looked around for someone with whom to share a humorous comment. The secretary had left the breakroom and no
one else was there, so he turned back to Louella. “No ma’am, I never found any powder, but I
heard rumors and such.”
Interview
Transcript 3/27/80
Melvin: I
asked some of my black friends about it.
I said, “What do you think killed Taylor?”
They all said,
“Oh, it was voodoo. Voodoo powder killed
him.”
“Well,
where’d he get it?”
They said, “He
got it down in New Orleans.”
Louella: (While
taking notes) Would you mind telling me the names of the people you asked.
Melvin: Why
do you need that?
Louella: I
just need to verify the information.
Melvin: Why? Don’t you trust me?
Louella: Of
course, I do Melvin. It’s nothing
personal. I’m writing a journalistic
account though, and facts have to be verified.
Melvin: Oh,
well, you know, let’s see. That was
several years ago. I believe… I believe
I talked to my old buddy Hector Caldwell about it. If I’m not mistaken. It’s been several years as I said. Hector works as an automobile mechanic here
in town.
Louella: Thank
you. Please continue. Mr. Caldwell told you the powder came from
New Orleans.
Melvin: Yeah,
I’m pretty sure Hector was one of the people I talked to about that. Anyway, the toxicologist had testified late
on a Friday afternoon. The judge said we
could pick it up on Monday. Since I had
the weekend off anyway, I decided to make a trip to New Orleans to investigate.
* * *
Louella
found Hector Caldwell at a downtown body shop underneath a wood-paneled station
wagon. He rolled out from under the car
on a mechanics dolly and sat up, and started blinking at the woman standing
above him holding a notepad. He wore a
blue jumpsuit smeared with axle grease and held a large wrench in his hand. The whole place smelled of grease and motor
oil.
“Are you
friends with Melvin Little?” Louella asked.
Hector winced
at the mention of Melvin’s name. He looked
over both shoulders as he climbed to his feet and then moved in close to
Louella.
“I know
Melvin,” he said in a quiet voice. “He
represented me once a long time ago. I’m
not the same person I was back then.”
“I’m not
interested in your felonious past,” Louella said. She fished a pencil from
behind her ear and started writing. “Did
you know Taylor Smith?”
“Yeah, I
knew Taylor. Why are you asking me about
him? You think I had something to do
with his death?”
“No one
suspects you of any involvement, Mr. Caldwell.
I’m attempting to verify someone else’s story.”
Hector
sighed. “Yeah, I knew Taylor a little
bit. He was a year behind me in school.”
“How do you
think he died?”
Hector
blinked and stared at Louella like she was crazy. “What do you mean? Reverend Baxter killed him.”
“Mm hm,”
Louella nodded. “And how do you think he
did it?”
“I don’t
know. I heard he got drugged and then
suffocated with a pillow.”
“What about
voodoo?”
“What about
it?” Hector asked.
“Do you
suspect voodoo was used in the murder.”
“I wouldn’t
know about that. I mean, I heard
rumors.”
“Thank you
for your time, Mr. Caldwell.”
Interview
Transcript 3/27/80
Melvin: I
went down to the French Quarter and I paid a visit to the Voodoo Shop. There
was a lady dressed in African garb standing at the counter. I showed her the vial of powder.
I said, “Do
you sell this stuff?”
Louella: How’d
you come to have the powder? Wasn’t that
evidence?
Melvin: Oh,
I told the judge the defense needed to have the stuff analyzed independently.
Louella: I
didn’t think they would just hand evidence over to the defense lawyer to take
home with him.
Melvin: Well,
you see the powder was never formerly entered into evidence.
Louella: I
see.
Melvin: Anyway,
I showed the stuff to the woman at the Voodoo Shop. I said, “Do you sell this stuff?”
She said,
“Oh yeah, that’s voodoo powder. It’s
made in Africa.”
I said,
“What’s in it?”
She said it
included parts of sixteen different animals: zebra hooves, elephant tusks…
crocodile shit. They crushed it all up into a powder and blessed it with some
mumbo jumbo at a special ceremony. She
told me it was powerful stuff. Black
magic.
I said,
“Did you ever sell this powder to a preacher from Alabama?”
She goes,
“Oh yeah. Do you mean Reverend
Baxter? He used to come in here all the
time. How’s he doing?”
* * *
Louella met
the District Attorney at a diner called the City Café. It was in walking distance of the courthouse
and Louella judged from the appearance of the clientele that it was popular
with lawyers and government employees.
Henry
Russell was a bulldog of a man, bald on top and powerfully built. He wore a rumpled navy blue suit and hunched
over his tray as if his food might try and escape if he didn’t create a pen
with his forearms.
Of the
food, he said. “It’s not good, but at
least you get a lot of it.” He added, “If
you can eat a second plate, they’ll give it to you for free.”
“How
delightful,” Louella said before ordering a grilled chicken salad. She made small talk until the food case, and
then she got down to business. “Do you
remember the Taylor Smith case?” she asked.
“Dismissed
for lack of evidence,” Russell said while shoveling a forkful of turnip greens
into his mouth. He wiped his face with a
large paper napkin and then let it fall to the table. He scowled as he scanned the tray of
condiments in the center of the table.
“Hey,” he barked to no one in particular. “Need some pepper sauce over here!”
“I was told
that the toxicologist found voodoo powder around Mr. Smith’s body, and that it was
an issue at trial.”
“Smells
like a load of crap to me,” Russell said.
A female
server whisked in a clear bottle filled with yellow-colored peppers and
vinegar. The prosecutor took it without offering
thanks or comment and proceeded to douse his plate. His turnips, fried okra, and country fried
steak all received a heavy soaking. He
left his mash potatoes alone; they were already swimming in gravy.
“Excuse me?”
“All that
voodoo stuff,” the prosecutor said. “It’s
all a load of crap.”
“Are you
saying Baxter wasn’t a voodoo man?”
“I’m pretty
sure he was Baptist.” A glob of congealed gravy hung at the corner of his
mouth.
“What about
all the rumors?”
“What about
‘em?” He looked at his rapidly
disappearing food. “I think I might go
for the second plate today.”
“Why would
someone start rumors about voodoo if he wasn’t involved?”
“Why do any
rumors start?” The DA answered between bites.
“They make for a juicier story.”
Louella
puffed out her lips and frowned. She had
yet to take a bite of salad.
“Who told
you it came up at trial?” The DA asked
as a speck of food flew out of his mouth and hit the back of a nearby patron.
Louella
noticed the speck on the back of the woman’s beige pantsuit, but let it pass
without comment. “Hm?” she said
dreamily.
“Who told
you voodoo came up during the Taylor Smith trial?”
“Oh,”
Louella said. “An unreliable source
apparently.” She balled up her napkin
and tossed it into her salad bowl.
Interview
Transcript 3/27/80
Melvin: Monday
morning I was back in court.
Louella: Did
you tell the judge what you’d learned in New Orleans?
Melvin: Naw. I let them stew in their own juices. It’s not my job to give evidence against my
own client. I’d never get another one. I might even get disbarred.
Louella: So
what happened?
Melvin: The
judge said to the DA, “Mr. Russell, let’s proceed with the case,” and Mr.
Russell said, “Judge, we can’t do it. We
can’t figure out what killed him.”
You have to
have proof of death. You have to prove
the guy died of something. So, they were
stuck, and I got the case dismissed.
I remember
the insurance company didn’t want to pay that one. They never did. But I started taking depositions, and the
insurance lawyer said, “Just stop.
Please stop.”
I said,
“What if I don’t wanna stop?”
He said,
“If you stop now, will give you fifty cents on the dollar.”
So that’s
what we did. It came out to around
$150,000.
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