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MAY GOD HAVE MERCY
by John C. Tucker

Previous - Chapter III: March 10, 1981

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March 10, 1981 was a Tuesday, so Brad had to work. Wanda disliked being alone at night, but Brad was assigned to the swing shift, three to eleven p.m. At least his work was safe and clean. At least he didn't work underground.

In March the weather in Grundy is unpredictable. Further south in the valley between the Appalachians and the Blue Ridge you can count on some nice spring days with the forsythia blooming and dogwood starting to bud, but up in the mountains it's likely to be raw and cold, with a possibility of snow and the creeks muddy and swollen with water cascading off the upper slopes. The previous Thursday it had rained almost an inch, swelling Slate creek even more than usual, but by Tuesday the creek was almost back to normal. That morning Brad and Wanda stayed home. Wanda sewed and watched television. Brad read the newspaper and puttered around the house. Mid-forties is a common high for early March in Grundy, and it was 42 when Brad left the house about 2:15 p.m. to run some errands and go to work.

The next day was garbage collection day in Longbottom, and Brad may have taken the garbage out to the curb when he left, though he's not sure. It was years later before it occurred to anyone that who took out the garbage that day, and when, could be important.

Roger Coleman married Trish Thompson, Wanda's sister Aug. 8, 1980. (Photo Courtesy John Tucker)

Brad's shift at work was routine. United Coal Company's Shop No. 1 supplies parts and repairs machinery and equipment for coal mines in the Grundy area. Brad's job mostly involved waiting around for someone to come in for spare parts for one of the mines, or to deliver parts from a supplier. The job only became hectic if there was a major breakdown which required locating crucial replacement parts or equipment and getting them delivered as quickly as possible. A mine shutdown because of an accident or equipment failure could cost the company thousands of dollars a day. Breakdowns were not infrequent, but none occurred on March 10, and Brad was able to take his regular dinner break to eat the food Wanda had fixed and packed in his lunch bucket. At nine o'clock he got a coffee break, and as he did whenever possible, Brad called Wanda to make sure she was alright - and to break up the loneliness of her evening.

Wanda answered the phone and they talked for almost fifteen minutes - about how the day was going, how they would spend a tax refund check they were expecting to receive, and what Wanda was watching on television - "B.J. and the Bear". When she hung up, Wanda returned to her t.v. program, sitting on the sofa in the parlor, protected from the chill draft by a hand made afghan. She drank a coke, and left the empty bottle on the coffee table. The television set was still on when her husband arrived home.

Brad's shift at work ended at eleven. A year later he said he thought he left work about 11:05 and got home about 11:15, although timing things backwards from his father's call to the Sheriff it seems more likely Brad pulled up to his house just after 11:05 p.m. In any event, he left work after his shift ended and drove straight home. At that hour there was no traffic. Once he crossed the bridge over Slate Creek and drove the block up to Oak Street, Brad would have seen anyone coming out his front door, the only door in the house.

The house where Wanda was murdered. Up the hill, the house of the neighbor who was later alleged to confess to the murder. (Photo Courtesy John Tucker)

Built on a hillside with a half basement and a single story of living space, Brad and Wanda's house had a living room and kitchen area in front, with two small bedrooms divided by a bath in back. The front door opens into the living room from a small porch about ten steps above street level. When Brad reached home he checked around the outside of the house to make sure everything was alright, and to see if dogs had gotten into the garbage. He noticed the porch light was off. Wanda usually left it on for him, and Brad wondered if the bulb needed changing. He climbed the steps to the porch and knocked on the door, but no one came. Peeking through a peep-hole he had scratched in paint covering the glass door pane when he and Wanda first moved in, Brad saw his wife's afghan lying on the couch, but he could not see Wanda. He wondered if she was hiding from him to play a trick. He opened the door with his key, entered the parlor, and lifted the afghan, thinking Wanda might be hiding under it. She was not. He saw that the coffee table in front of the couch had been shoved out of line, and an empty coke bottle was lying on the floor, as if it had fallen off when the table was moved.

Brad McCoy began to sense something was wrong. He put his lunch bucket down on the floor. A light was on in the spare bedroom. Perhaps Wanda was doing something in there, he thought, and walked a few steps to the bedroom door.

Wanda McCoy was lying on her back on the floor, naked from her chest down except for her blue striped socks. Her sweater and bra were pushed up around her neck, revealing her breasts. A pair of blue jeans lay on the bed, and dark blue satin panties were hooked around her left ankle.

A large pool of blood surrounded Wanda McCoy's head, and Brad could see that she had been stabbed twice in the chest. Blood still oozed onto the floor from somewhere under her sweater.

Brad McCoy knew his wife was dead, and he knew she hadn't been dead for long. The pool of blood around her head, still growing, told him both things. He did not try to feel Wanda's pulse or touch her in any way. Instead, he quickly looked around the small house to see if the killers were still there, and then called his father from the phone in the parlor. "Daddy, come over, come quick" he stammered, "Wanda's been raped or killed."

Still fearful that a killer was hiding in the house, Brad turned on the porch light and went outside to wait for his father. Growing more and more frightened and agitated, after a few minutes he could not stay on the porch any longer and took off down the hill toward his father's house. As Brad reached the house, Hezzie was pulling his car out of the garage. Brad was crying. He sobbed over and over, "Why would anyone do this, why would they do this to me." Hezzie decided to go back inside for a gun, and when he realized that Brad had not done so, he called the sheriff. Hezzie later estimated that ten minutes elapsed between Brad's call to him and his call to the Sheriff. Hezzie's call to the Sheriff was logged in at 11:21 p.m.

The two men got into Hezzie's car and drove back up the hill to Brad and Wanda's. When they reached the house and went inside, Hezzie McCoy took one look at Wanda and told his son she was dead. Brad and Hezzie went back onto the front porch just as deputy Sheriffs Steve Coleman and Mike Shell arrived at the house. It was 11:25 p.m.
When Steve Coleman entered the house he went immediately to the bedroom where Wanda lay on the floor. Her heavy sweater was still pulled up around her neck. Coleman knelt beside her, lifted a fold of the sweater, and reached beneath it to feel for a pulse. His fingers, searching for the artery in her neck, found a gaping hole. A knife had slashed her throat so deeply that Wanda McCoy's head was nearly severed from her body.

Coleman stood up. Trying to keep from vomiting, he walked outside where several more deputy sheriffs, state troopers and town police were arriving, among them Grundy police chief Randall Jackson. Randy Jackson had been Chief of Police for two years. He was 28 years old.

Coleman told the new arrivals that a woman was dead in the bedroom, and instructed Brad and Hezzie McCoy to go back to Hezzie's house and wait. As Randy Jackson entered the house the television was still on. Passing through the living room, he heard Ed McMahon say: "Heeeere's Johnny!" It was 11:31.

When Jackson reached the bedroom where Wanda McCoy's body lay, he could see fresh blood still emerging from under her sweater. He thought the crime had been committed so recently that, like Brad, he wondered if a killer might still be in the house. After feeling briefly for a pulse on Wanda's left wrist, and finding none, Jackson instructed the men who were with him to secure the house and let no one in. Two men were dispatched to search the basement, and Jackson himself searched the living area again. Finding no one, Jackson sent patrolman Owens to pick up Dr. Thomas McDonald, a family physician and licensed medical examiner who lived a few blocks away. Next he called the home of Special Agent Jack Davidson of the Virginia State Police, the investigator assigned to provide assistance to local police departments in major cases. Davidson agreed to come at once from his home in Vansant, just east of Grundy.

A few minutes later Patrolman Owens returned with Dr. McDonald. Jackson told Owens to go down to Hezzie McCoy's house and stay there with Hezzie and Brad, and to ask some questions. As in any murder case, Wanda's husband was a suspect.

Jackson entered the house again, this time with Dr. McDonald, and McDonald quickly declared Wanda dead. It was between 11:40 and 11:45 p.m. Dr. McDonald told Randy Jackson that Wanda McCoy had not been dead long - "about a half hour." Dr. McDonald returned home. Jackson and the others secured the house and went outside to await the arrival of Jack Davidson. Randy Jackson hoped to pass responsibility for the investigation to Davidson. Jack Davidson fully intended to take it.

Inside the house Wanda finally stopped bleeding, and her body began to stiffen. Wanda Fay McCoy was nineteen years old.



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