“Please, sir,” Scott pleaded.
Sammy poked him with the gun barrel and he got out. They led him down a row of cotton, stopped, and Nevin said, “Get on your knees.”
Scott was crying and said, “Please, I have a beautiful wife and three gorgeous kids. Please don’t do this.”
“Give me your wallet.”
Scott quickly handed it over and dropped to his knees. He bowed his head and tried to pray and kept mumbling, “Please.”
“Lay down,” Nevin said and Scott did so.
Nevin winked at Sammy who put the gun in his pocket. They left Scott crying in the cotton field. An hour later they parked the sedan in front of a convenience store in a rough part of Clarksdale. The keys stayed in the ignition. Two blocks away, Nevin waited outside in the dark while Sammy strutted through the front door of Big Bear’s and hugged his brother.
Marlin drove them to a motel in Memphis where they took long, hot showers, ate burgers and fries and drained cold beers, and changed into nicer clothes. They split their loot: $210 in cash they had saved in prison; $35 from poor Scott. They threw away his wallet and credit cards.
At the bus station, they said goodbye without a hug. No need to call attention to themselves. They shook hands like lost friends. Nevin left first on a bus to Dallas. Half an hour later, Sammy left for St. Louis.
Marlin was relieved to be rid of both of them. He knew the odds were against them, but for two men who were facing years if not decades at Parchman, why not take the risk?
* * *
Two days later, Keith was informed by the state police. A prison escape was always unexpected, but Keith was not surprised. After the mysterious disappearance of Henry Taylor, he knew the pressure would mount against Nevin Noll. And, he was confident he would eventually be found.
Still, it was unsettling to know that Noll was loose. He was as guilty of killing Keith’s father as Taylor and Hugh Malco, and belonged in a cell on death row.
* * *
Sammy Shaw was arrested in Kansas City after the police received a Crime Stoppers tip. Someone who knew him needed $500 in cash.
A month passed with no sign of Nevin Noll. Then two months. Keith tried not to think about him.
Lance Malco wasn’t worried either. The last place Noll would surface was the Coast. Lance had put a $50,000 contract on his head and he’d made sure Noll knew it.
If he had good sense, which he did, he would find his way to Brazil.
Chapter 58
Like a boxer hanging on the ropes, beaten, bloodied, but refusing to go down, Hugh Malco’s legal defense took one blow after another and came back for more. In October of 1984, the federal judge in Hattiesburg rejected every claim. The lawyers dutifully appealed to the Fifth Circuit, which affirmed the lower court in May of 1985. With nowhere else to go, the lawyers appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court, again. Even though the Supremes had already said no to Petitioner Malco on two previous appeals, it took them seven months to say no for the third time. They ordered the State of Mississippi to set a date for the execution.
Keith was at the capitol preparing to testify before the state senate judiciary committee when Witt Beasley found him. Without a word he handed him a scrap of paper on which he’d scrawled, Execution set, March 28, midnight. Congratulations.
The news raced around the state and picked up steam. Almost every newspaper ran the headlines and archival photos of Jesse Rudy on various courthouse steps. The Gulf Coast Register re-ran the old team photo of Keith and Hugh as Little League all-stars, and that background proved irresistible. Stories flourished about their childhood on the Point. Former coaches, teachers, friends, and teammates were tracked down and interviewed. A few declined to comment, but most had something colorful to add.
Keith was inundated with requests for interviews, but as much as he enjoyed the exposure he said no to every one. He knew there was still a good chance the execution would be delayed.