Bringing Adam Home - Les Standiford [89]
On Monday, August 15, 1994, Detective Smith composed a memo to deputy chief Mike Ignasiak outlining what he thought could be done to revive the Walsh case. In his memo, however, he noted that “due to the amount of time since the incident, it would be virtually impossible to set out and try to establish new suspects or motives,” an odd position for a cold case investigator to take, given that the aim of such undertakings is to consider the possibility of new suspects or motives.
Smith also suggested in his memo that one thing that they might do was to conduct a follow-up inspection of the area around mile marker 126 on Florida’s Turnpike to try and determine why that might have been selected as a place for the killer to dispose of Adam’s head, though he doesn’t make clear exactly what significance he attributed to that question. More important, Smith recommended to his superiors that “a re-interview” be scheduled with Ottis Toole, “to either eliminate him as a suspect or reaffirm his involvement.” This was necessary, Smith said, because it seemed that the “original investigators” believed that Toole was confessing for publicity reasons and had been furnished confidential case file information by “an overzealous Jacksonville detective.”
Despite Hoffman’s reluctance to pursue the matter, Smith said, “Toole has not been successfully eliminated as a suspect in the case,” and he recommended that Miami Beach detective sergeant Joe Matthews be involved in the interview of Toole. “Mr. Matthews has agreed to accompany this agency in an interview with Toole free of charge,” Smith explained, before adding something of a curious addendum. “Although he may have ulterior motives for his willingness to assist, I feel Matthews is a resource that could be beneficial to this investigation.”
As it turned out, Matthews would not view this memo until ten years after it was written, and when he did see it, he found it mystifying, to say the least. For one thing, the very notion of compensation for his involvement was ludicrous—he was in the paid employ of the Miami Beach Police Department, and he had been assigned to work with Hollywood PD at the latter’s own request. Furthermore, he was not “Mr.” Matthews, but “Detective Sergeant Matthews”—a small point, but police protocol is unwavering when it comes to distinguishing ordinary civilians from officers in formal correspondence of any kind.
Most troubling to Matthews was the offhand mention of “ulterior motives.” To Matthews, it smacked of Jack Hoffman’s accusation that Buddy Terry had signed a book contract with Ottis Toole, an unfounded charge that not only besmirched a good cop’s career but hobbled the Walsh investigation.
Of course, he could give credit to Hollywood PD for reopening the investigation, but he could only view Smith’s comments as symptomatic of an entire department’s unspoken wish that the case simply go away, once and for all.
In order to understand what makes Matthews tick, it may be worth a brief return to the detective’s early days as a beat cop on the Miami Beach force. Matthews had joined the force in 1967, shortly after his twenty-first birthday, following a chance encounter with a cop during a stint as a security guard at the Miami Beach Convention Center. Why be busting your ass for a buck and a quarter an hour? the cop asked. Matthews seemed like a smart kid. There was a shortage in the department. If he passed the test, the cop told him, he could be knocking down $500 a month.
It seemed like a fortune at the time, and Matthews decided to follow the advice. He took the entrance exam, placed second among applicants, and soon was enrolled in the Dade County Police Academy.
From the first, there were indications that Matthews was not going to be your ordinary cop. His outspoken nature and willingness to question his superiors earned him respect in some quarters, but not everyone appreciated his candor. One morning during