Wednesday, April 7, 2021

Mason’s Wish


The big break in the weather was finally here, and I intended to take full advantage of it. I rolled my windows down and smelled the smoke of oak firewood from fireplaces of working folks who didn’t want to turn on their furnaces just yet. It really wasn’t cold enough for a fire, but they didn’t care. Summer was behind us.

It was a cloudless, star-filled night, but the same smoke that refreshed childhood memories converged in low spots and turned into thick, wet fog. I drove into a depression and felt the temperature drop ten degrees. Without warning, I was engulfed in a cloud that reflected the beams from my headlights and blinded me. I hit my dimmer switch and brakes at the same time and scrambled to find a towel to wipe off the inside of the windshield, but it was so damp, no amount of wiping could dry it.

Years earlier my training officer warned me about quiet nights. He taught me to keep moving and look for things that don’t seem right, like a car in a parking lot at a closed business, or someone walking down the road, or a car cruising slowly through a neighborhood, but I saw none of those things and was glad of it because I earned a break for surviving the summer, but there is a down side to solitude. 

When it’s busy, you don’t have time to get sleepy, but hours of overtime, working off duty, and the responsibilities of everyday life caught up with me. I wanted to go to sleep, but instead, I turned up the radio, hung my head out the window, and slapped myself to stay awake.

It had been a long time since I heard anyone on the radio, so I clicked my mic to make sure it was on. It was. I was glad to know I didn't miss a wreck, domestic disturbance, or barroom brawl. Could it really be Friday night?

I checked the Army Surplus store by the old highway, shining my spotlight at ballistic vests, Kevlar helmets, Pea coats, and flight jackets, but the only movements were shadows from the light. If you’re not careful, your eyes play tricks on you when you're sleepy, and a shadow becomes a fleeing felon or a tree branch blowing in the wind is a machete ready to chop off your head, but I knew the danger and didn't overreact.

I sat in my car and logged a business check: my eighth one in an hour. I hadn’t checked that many businesses since training. My car was filled with red light from the bulb I installed to protect my eyesight from the bright lights that would ruin my night vision. Like a prowling animal, I was ready and one with the night, that is until the lines on the page hypnotized me, and my pen moved slower and slower until it skipped across the page, ending in a scribble. At that moment the radio jarred me awake. I had forgotten to turn it down earlier when I thought I was missing something, and now it was full volume and demanding my attention, but it wasn’t an emergency. It was just Mason making a traffic stop.

Joe Mason knew how to ruin a quiet night. He should have known better, but he didn’t. He was a retired city cop who spent most of his 20 years on the DUI (Driving Under the Influence) Task Force, so when he came to the county, he continued doing what he knew best. When it came to disturbances, fights, burglaries, and thefts he was out of his element but finding and arresting drunk drivers was his specialty, and no one did it better than Mason. He had more DUI arrests than any cop in the entire state. Unlike the rest of us, he never got over the thrill of tracking and arresting drunks. Most of the guys on my shift avoided drunk drivers because the paperwork was tedious, and since most drunk drivers have the audacity to plead not guilty in court, subpoenas never stop coming. Court appearances are hard when you have a family and work midnight shift, and everybody knows that defense attorneys are unscrupulous. They make thousands of dollars coming up with gimmicks to make cops look like fools in court, so most of us waited for drunks to find us rather than try to find them, but not Mason. He could find them even on a quiet night. He booked a drunk driver in jail almost every night, and on weekends, it wasn’t unusual for him to make two arrests a night. Thanks to Mason, the midnight shift statistics were higher than any other shift, and our lieutenant loved him for it.

At almost 60, Mason was an oddity on patrol where a veteran of eight years was considered an old timer. The average age of a patrolman is 30, and most are uninterested in the tales of men who were making arrests when their parents were in middle school. I was the lone exception. Guys like Mason reminded me of a time in history I envied. I loved his stories, which he told well, of how things used to be.

Mason and I were friends, and he told me things he told few others. Maybe it was because I cared, or maybe it was due to our common interests like fishing and hunting, but most likely it was because I was a good listener. We talked about our families, our hobbies, the downslide of the world around us, and sometimes even religion. No one else had patience for him, but he was my friend. I liked his stories even if I heard them two or three times.

Some people block things out of their mind that are distasteful to them, and Mason was like that. If people didn’t like him, it didn’t bother him. He had no pretenses and didn’t worry about hurting people’s feelings. He rarely participated in group discussions. Instead, he listened. He listened to conversations at the station. He listened to radio traffic. He listened to deputies handle calls, and he analyzed everything he heard. When he and I talked about the people we worked with, I sometimes brought up their inadequacies, but Mason was quick to remind me of their strengths. He didn’t overlook anyone's weaknesses, but he noticed situations where the weak could do things better than those who were physically strong. His perspective made me appreciate people I would have otherwise written off. "Not everyone is strong as you are. Sometimes we need a little humor around here. Sometimes we need people whose brain operates on the right side. You left brain people are so boring."

He preached tolerance, but in practice, there were certain things he would not tolerate such as drunks and hypocrites. “That’s the truth right there…” he would often say. If someone on our shift was lazy, the rest of us whispered our thoughts, but Mason told them straight up. His frankness offended some, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t trying to impress anybody. His forthrightness was just a test to see if they were worthy of his friendship.

His father died when he was sixty three years old from a massive heart attack, but Mason was spared the same fate due to modern medicine. Four years earlier, Mason had triple bypass, and afterward he was determined to improve his health with exercise and diet, but his plan changed when he was forced to put his mother, who was suffering from dementia, in a nursing home. He visited her often, but she did not know him. It cut him deep to sit down with the first love of his life as a mere stranger. Vowing not to suffer the fate of his parents, he started smoking again. He said there was no sense living a long life if he didn’t know who his family and friends were, and besides that, cigarettes helped him concentrate.

A career in law enforcement is hard on any marriage. Mason was on his third wife, but he finally got it right. Marie gave him the security and direction he needed. Sometimes he joked that if he died in the line of duty his pension would be enough to get her a new house, and she would be taken care of the rest of her life. He spoke of it as if it would make him complete as a man and husband. I never took him seriously - until that night in October.

Dispatch called Mason and gave him the registered owner’s name of the pickup he pulled over. It was an oil company. The big oil companies brought people from all over the country to work the rigs in our county. I didn’t dare call Mason on the radio and ask him if he needed help because he made it clear to everyone on the shift that he did not want to be interrupted in the middle of a field sobriety test. Because of that, no one was going to back him up unless he asked. His policy was fine with me unless I was close and available. In those situations, I had my own policy.

When I pulled behind the red lights of his car, I got out of my car, walked around the back of my car and walked up to the passenger’s door of his car out of view of his camera. From there I could see everything, and chances were good no one would even know I was there. 

There was a giant of a man standing in front of his spotlight and headlights, so big Mason looked like a child when he raised his pen light to the giant’s eyes. He used the light as a guide for the man to follow as he moved it from side to side and up and down. Mason was an expert on the Horizontal Gaze Nystagmus or HGN test. He was looking for the involuntary jerking of his eyes which is highlighted when someone is intoxicated. I was thirty feet away, and even at that distance I could tell the big guy was drunk by the way he was acting. This wasn't his first time to be pulled over, and he clearly resented it.

Mason told him to focus on the light while he moved it to the right, but the drunk picked out a point in the distance and stared at it. It was an old trick promoted on websites of unscrupulous attorneys to advertise their service. Since the giant did not focus on the light, Mason couldn’t get a proper reading of his HGN. Mason knew what was going on, but he was patient. He had been down this trail before and knew from experience that sugar worked better than salt in these situations. He spoke slowly in his country draw and gave Goliath instructions for the third time.

The drunk was wearing orange coveralls outlined with reflecting tape with an American Flag on his left shoulder. He probably got off work hours earlier, went straight to the bar, and didn’t leave until they shut the doors. Mason took his time, but the drunk stood at parade rest, refusing to follow any of his instructions or even acknowledge he was there. He was a statue, except for one thing…his face was blood red.

I looked behind me to see if there was any traffic. There wasn’t. The cool night kept everyone at home. When I turned back around, the drunk was staring at Mason, and then he dropped his gaze at Mason’s waist and stared at his pistol.

Before I could take a step, Mason was on the ground having landed there after being heaved in the air like a child and body slammed. It was a violent move of a desperate man. I found out later this was his third DUI, and even if he survived the legal implications, he was sure to lose his job. He was strong and surprisingly agile for his size. He grabbed Mason’s pistol and tried in vain to free it from the holster. Six months earlier, Mason got one of the new synthetic, security holsters that require you to disengage a guard and push a button before the pistol will come out. The old cop complained because he thought all holsters should be made from leather just like they were in the days of Wyatt Earp, but thankfully, this one wasn't leather. It held on to the pistol like a pearl inside an oyster. Unable to free it, the drunk tore Mason’s rig belt completely off him. He was still trying to pull the pistol out when I hit him.

Coach Ollie Swanson would have been proud of my form tackle, but it helped that the drunk never saw me coming. He exhaled a groan that held more air than both Mason and I could have breathed in five minutes. He was on his stomach while I sat on his back and willed every ounce of my girth to attach me to the ground beneath him. The air around us was foul with whiskey. The giant still held onto the pistol grip of Mason’s gun. I brought my right arm up and found my pistol in my hand, having gotten there I knew not how. I rose up and stomped my foot on his wrist, pinning it to the fog line, but he did not release the gun. He strained his neck to look at me, wondering who I was and where I came from. I pressed the muzzle of my Glock 22 against his temple.

“Are you ready to meet Jesus?”

I felt the tension in his body, and it seemed for a moment I was going to have to shoot him, but the thought of Jesus seeped into his conscience. He sobbed and through spit and snot he screamed, “N-o-o-o!”

He extended his fingers, and the pistol dropped from his hand. I kicked the gun, holster and all, over to Mason where it skidded across the pavement and stopped against his ribs with a thud.

Up to that moment, everything was adlib, but now my academy training kicked in. I told him to lie still with his arms spread while I backed away from him. He cried like a baby but did not move.
“Mason...get over here!”

Mason was shocked and embarrassed but able to get up after being dropped from midair onto the pavement. He put his rig belt around his waist and stood beside me with his pistol drawn. I put my pistol up and told him, “Shoot him if he moves.” We approached shoulder to shoulder in unison. When I reached down and grabbed the giant’s wrist, Mason held the Glock to the base of his neck. “Don’t make me kill you buddy boy, ya hear?”

For years Mason had been telling me stories about fighting drunks in ditches, chasing fleeing felons, and tracking the VC all over Vietnam. To avoid a PTSD flashback from the soldier beside me, I handcuffed the big drunk quicker than a steer wrestler at the rodeo, got him on his feet, and loaded him in the back of my car.

I had been out of my car less than five minutes, and we had an attempted murderer in handcuffs, ready for jail. It was good work by any standard. What had started bad for Mason ended up a happy ending because we worked together, side by side…me putting the drunk in handcuffs while Mason covered him with unescapable disaster, ready to drop him at a moment’s notice. There were no cross fire issues. Nobody got hurt. It was the four Cs from our training: Contact-Concealment-Cover-Control.

With the drunk contained, I walked over to Mason and patted him on the back. “You all right old buddy?” But he turned at me with a flash of rage. “Don’t you ever do that again you son of a bitch!”

He gave me his back and walked to his car.

It wasn’t the response I expected. 

I wasn’t asking him to tell me he owed me his life and from now on he would be my personal slave, but I thought he might have appreciated the unexpected intrusion. It could have been bad. Did he realize how close to death he was?

He opened his car door and looked back at me.

“Go on. You’ve done your good deed Mr. Goody Two-shoes. Get your ass outta here.”

Now I was mad.

It was the first time I ever saw him that way, and it was ugly. His dark, sullen resentment was out of character. I watched him drive away a stranger, oblivious to the fact I held his prisoner in the back seat of my car. I couldn’t cut the man loose just because Mason just lost his mind. Now it was time for the fifth C: Clean-Up. I called Johnny James who was not far away and convinced him to impound the drunk’s F-250 while I took Mason’s prisoner to the jail and made him my prisoner.

When I left the jail, our shift was over, and I had no idea where Mason was or what was going on with him. I drove to the station in auto-pilot, my mind replaying the incident over and over, frame by frame. What could I have done differently? 

I could have ignored Mason’s policy and got right in the middle of his field sobriety test. With both of us hovering over the drunk, maybe there would have been no fight at all.

My other choice was to do nothing at all, and apparently that was the choice Mason wanted me to make.

Mason often told me his family history, and his fear of growing old and feeble. Occasionally, he joked about dying while on duty, but I ignored him. I didn’t know what to say because it wasn’t something to joke about. I don’t believe in luck, good or bad, but it has never made sense to me to joke around about getting killed on duty, but now I knew Mason wasn’t joking at all. What happened on that Highway was exactly what he wanted to happen. He didn’t actively plan it, but he knew the inherent dangers of traffic stops and the odds of coming across a desperate person, so he merely increased the odds by making as many stops and arrests as he possibly could. Sooner or later he was bound to stop a drunken fool who would attack him…and he knew it. He knew death was just a matter of time, so he played the odds to shorten his time, and the legacy of taking care of Marie overshadowed his fears and abated the inconvenience of losing his mental capacity or dying of a heart attack. His plan was playing out nicely until I came along, and for that I was goody two-shoed SOB.

When I got to the station I found Mason’s reports in the basket, but he was long gone. His report was concise and accurate. I wrote my report and a use of force form. It was well after 9 am when I left.
Bette and the kids were gone when I got home. I had the house to myself, and it was quiet. I spent half my night struggling to stay awake, but now sleep was impossible. I did not understand why Mason wanted to die. It is one thing not to fear death but another to desire it. It was so important to him that he put our friendship in jeopardy, and that’s what hurt the most. I did what I did because that was the reason I became a cop in the first place. If I left him alone, he would have died a hero. Marie would have had his pension for the rest of her life, and his name would have been chiseled in granite at the LEO’s Memorial, but not now. Now he was just a grumpy old man facing impending and anonymous death.

I finally got to sleep, but I relived the incident in my dreams, woke up for a few minutes, and went back to sleep to remember pulling up behind his car, getting out, and watching him with the drunk from the darkness, but this time it was different. This time, instead of running to his rescue, I tried to move but couldn't. I was paralyzed. It was the report of a gun shot that jolted me awake. I was out of breath and sweating. When I realized it wasn’t real, I said aloud, “Thank you Lord…thank you...thank you.”

When I was a kid, one of my friends shoved a girl down at recess, and she broke her leg. I was one of four kids that saw what happened, and our principal, Mr. Mack, called all us to the office. Old Mack was shrewd in the ways of education and discipline. He talked to us one at a time with a pen in his hand and a tablet on his desk. 

Vincent Jones was the most popular kid in our class, and I so badly wanted to be his best friend, but when he threw Agnes down for no other reason than she got in his way, and I saw her leg bent abnormally, her tears, and the fear in her eyes, my attitude changed. It was no accident, and I knew it. When Mack asked me to tell him what happened, I did. Problem was, I was the only one, other than Agnes, who told the truth. The result was instant shunning. I was an informant who appeased the enemy. I became an outcast among those who were once my friends. My name became synonymous with rat, snitch, tattletale, and sell-out.

Two days later, I got home after a lonely day at school. Before I could unlock the door, Dad opened it. It was strange because he never got home before 6 pm.

“Have a good day boy?”

“Yes sir.”

“Why don’t you and I go for a ride?”

I wanted to be left alone, but I couldn’t deny my dad. I wondered what he was up to and where we were going. We drove for five minutes in silence.

“Tell me about your day boy.”

Somehow he knew. I couldn’t hide it from him. I didn’t want to be a baby, but the tears fell, and I couldn’t stop them.

He let me cry.

When I caught my breath and dried my eyes, I told him what happened…how a guy I looked up to hurt a little girl and didn’t care. How my friends turned their backs on me, and that life was as bad as it could possibly be. He listened to all of it.

“Well, I’ve always loved you boy, and I always will, but today, I came to respect you. There’s not one person in a thousand who would alienate himself from his friends to do what was right, but you did. That’s what you call character boy, and I always thought you had it, but now I know you do.”

I was an outcast at school for two days, and it made me regret being honest. It convinced me being a tattletale was ten times worse than being a liar, but the greatest man I ever knew told me he respected me, a twelve year old kid who just wanted to be accepted.

“When a man does what is right because it is right despite what anyone else thinks, he has earned respect, and no one can ever take that away. One day some of your friends will understand, some never will, but by then you’ll be so far ahead of them on the road to manhood that they’ll never catch up. Mr. Mack called me and told me what happened. He said you were one of the few kids he’s ever known that stood up for what was right. You have honored me, and I am proud of you.”

Laying in bed twenty years later, I heard my dad’s words all over again, “You have honored me son. I am proud of you,” and just like that day twenty years earlier, nothing else mattered anymore. Just like I didn’t care what Vincent Jones thought, I didn’t care any more what Mason thought, or that his legacy had been thwarted. Doing what was right was all that mattered.

It was a week and a half before I saw Mason again. I avoided him all night, but at 2 am the bars closed. At 2:13 he was on the radio.

“One forty-nine to dispatch...traffic stop at Stockdale and Main with a blue Chev-ro-lay four door.”

For a full 30 seconds,  I was headed in the opposite direction and didn’t care, but then I thought about my old man. I turned the Impala around, and made up for lost time.

When I got to Main Street, Mason was in the middle of a walk and turn test with a middle-aged, barefooted woman on the shoulder of the road. A pair of high-heels was propped up in the grass next to the shoulder. The woman walked the fog line like a clumsy tight rope walker at the circus. She was wearing a ball room dress, and her tears, mixed with mascara, spilled down her cheeks. She invoked pity rather than justice. Somebody somewhere was singing a country song about her, but Mason was unfazed. In his world, there was no black or white, male or female, only drunk or sober. She was drunk, and she was going to jail, high heels and all.

Despite the flood of tears, he handcuffed her behind her back.

“Now, now…it’s not the end of the world ma’am. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

He put her in his backseat and asked me to wait for her son to pick up the car. Usually he smoked a cigarette before going to the jail, but not this time.

“No cigarette tonight?”

“Gave ‘em up a week and a half ago.”

“Oh yeah?”

He smiled. “Making some changes. If I got to be alive, might as well be healthy.”

It was the old Mason I knew, so I played along.

“Does that mean you’ll be in church Sunday morning?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but one day I’ll be off midnight shift, and we’ll see.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

I turned to walk away, but he called me. 

“Jackson…there’s something I need to say to you.”

He walked over, stood directly in front of me, and looked me in the eye as if what he had to say was important.

“I respect what you did the other night.” He dropped his gaze to the the ground and twisting his wedding ring around his finger.

“You would have done the same for me.”

When he looked up, his bottom lip trembled. “Well, I like to think so anyway.”

I nodded. He looked away and was gone.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.


Saturday, January 2, 2021

The Murder of Julian Brandon


 


It was 6 pm on Sunday night at the beginning of winter solstice, three days since the new moon and the new year. Darkness came early, and it had been dark at the Brandon home for days.

      Julian Brandon and his wife Alice lived at 5340 Primitive Baptist Church Road just off Roy Road. Julian was a retired minister who built a new home on his family property in Caddo Parish. Though retired, he served as pastor of senior citizens at First Baptist Church in Blanchard.

People in Blanchard like things quiet, but it was too quiet at the Brandon’s house. The last time anyone heard from Julian and Alice was New Year’s Day, and now, four days later, friends and family were concerned. It was unlike them to miss church that morning, and when they didn’t show up for evening service, everyone knew something was wrong. Friends called, but no one answered. Finally, someone went by to check on them.

It was just after dark when a church member went to the Brandon’s front door. He looked through the window and saw Julian on the ground in a pool of blood. He ran to his car and called the Caddo Parish Sheriff’s Office.

At the same time, Alice’s cousin, Danny Kent received a phone call from his sister-in-law who lived across the street from the Brandons. She told him she thought Julian may have had a heart attack and needed help. Danny walked to Julian’s house and finding the back door ajar, he went inside.

The holidays were over, and it had been a quiet weekend for the Sheriff’s Office, but now every available unit was rushing to Primitive Baptist Church Road with lights flashing and sirens blaring. The first to arrive was Deputy Mike Vaitkus. 

Vaitkus talked to the caller in front of the Brandon’s home and then went around back checking the perimeter. Behind the house, he found a woman standing next to the open back door. It was Danny Kent’s wife. She said Danny was inside. Danny recently retired from the Sheriff’s Office as a mechanic. He was a no-nonsense man who was devoted to his family. Vaitkus went inside, approached Danny cautiously and asked him to step outside. With Danny out of the way, he went back in and found Julian lying by the front door in a pool of dried blood just like the caller described. There was a slash across his neck, and a knife protruding from his back. He had been dead for awhile. Near his body was a second kitchen knife, broken in two. There were bloody prints on the wall and floor, and a yellow bracelet conspicuously laying on the floor in the kitchen.

Knowing there was nothing he could do for Julian, Vaitkus backed out of the house and waited for back up. When Sergeant Bill Gaines arrived, the two of them went inside with guns drawn making sure the people who murdered Julian weren’t lurking in a dark corner somewhere. Moments later, Deputy Richard Jennings set up a perimeter around the outside of the house. Only law enforcement or medical personnel could go beyond the yellow tape.

Vaitkus and Gaines didn’t find any bad guys, but they did find a woman on the floor in the bedroom. It was Alice Brandon. A trail of blood on the bed led to the floor where she lay. She had been shot in the head, but unlike her husband, she was alive. When paramedics arrived, Gaines backed away, knowing her survival depended on emergency treatment. He wanted to ask who shot her and killed her husband, but he knew it would have to wait. She was air lifted to LSU Medical Center in Shreveport.

Sheila Hostnick and Kay Ward were the on call detectives. When Kay walked up to the scene, Lieutenant Steve Tompkins, the shift commander and former Detective Lieutenant, raised the yellow tape. As she passed, he reminded her about a woman who lived down the road who just got out of jail. Her name was Brandy Holmes, and Kay knew her well.

Brandy was a notorious burglar and a thief. She spent the last part of 2002 with her father in Mississippi but recently returned home. She was a convicted felon on probation. Richard Jennings, the third deputy to arrive at the scene that day, dealt with Brandy in the past. He responded to a call about a dog bitting a little girl. He found the dog tied up in front of Brandy’s house. He spoke to her mother about letting the dog run loose. She told him the dog was tired of being chained to the tree, so she unhooked him. While he was loose, he bit the little girl. Richard was writing her a summons for Dogs at Large when Brandy walked up to him and demanded to know what he was doing. She tried to talk him out of arresting her mother, but he ignored her. Brandy had a soft complexion and was immature. Richard was surprised to find out she was 23 years old. She couldn’t talk him out of writing the summons, so she took her frustration out on the dog. “Looky what you gone and done now. Dontcha know beeter dan dat?” When Richard looked up from his paper work, she was staring at him.

Lt. Tompkins’ observation was surprising since the crime had just been reported. At that point, no physical evidence had been collected and no witnesses spoken interviewed. It seemed premature to hypothesize on suspects.

In October, Kay worked a burglary at Brandy’s next door neighbor’s house. Several pieces of jewelry were taken in the burglary, and those pieces were found inside Brandy’s home. Kay believed she committed the burglary, but someone else confessed to it.

A week before Julian Brandon’s murder, a burglary occurred in Brandy’s neighborhood. One of the items taken was a leather jacket. The case was assigned to Kay, and Brandy was the prime suspect. As a convicted felon who had not been out of jail for long, she was a suspect in every theft and burglary that occurred within a three mile radius of her home, but was she capable of killing two people in cold blood?

Danny Kent thought so. Eight years earlier, he let his dog out at 10 pm before bed, and the dog barked hysterically. He went outside and noticed his barn door open and his riding lawn mower and go cart missing. He found the mower and go cart staged at the edge of the woods. He called the Sheriff’s Office, and they sent out a tracking dog. According to Danny, the dog followed a path straight to Brandy’s house. The deputies asked him if he wanted to press charges against Brandy, but he would not. He didn’t think it was right to put a girl in jail. Now Brandy was an adult and a suspect in Julian’s murder and Alice’s attempted murder. To a man like Danny, leaving a woman for dead after shooting her in the head was far worse than killing her outright.

Despite the consensus, it was too early to round up suspects. Deputies were still waiting for the Coroner’s Office to pick up Julian’s body, and Alice was just arriving at the hospital. Crime Scene Investigators had not yet gone inside the home, and it would take them hours to process the scene. A break in the case might come from evidence, an autopsy, a tip, or a witness, but so far there were only hunches.

Julian and Alice were known for helping people. They did not have enemies or know anyone who would do them harm. Word of their attack spread through Blanchard like wildfire. Residents loaded their guns and locked their doors. There was a killer in their midst. Deputies knew the urgency. The murderer must be caught. They sympathized with Alice and her family, but they didn’t have time to grieve because they had a case to solve. A murder in a cop’s jurisdiction is serious. Priorities change. Shifts are extended. Searches are conducted. There would be no rest until they exhausted all resources.

Sheila and Kay looked through the house for clues. Sheila noticed an open jewelry box in the bedroom. Steak knives from a knife block in the kitchen were scattered around the house. They were used to stab Julian and slit his throat. Ironically, there was a video tape on the couch in the living room entitled The Evil that Men Do.

The Sheriff sent Kay and Sheila to their office to make some phone calls. They called local hospitals and asked about patients needing stitches for knife wounds, but they came up empty handed. Detective Lieutenant Bill Duncan remained at the scene. The manager of the Blanchard Place Apartments approached him with potential information. Duncan called Kay and Sheila and told them to meet him at the apartments. When they arrived, he told them the manager said Brandy Holmes was at the apartments three days earlier and told him she killed an old couple who lived by a church. She showed him a plastic bag full of jewelry and a small caliber pistol as proof. She offered to sell the jewelry, but he knew better than to deal with her. He thought she was lying about the murders because he didn’t hear anything on the news about it. 

The detectives canvassed the apartment complex and spoke to other people who heard Brandy talking about killing two people. Over the next few days, others came forward. Unfortunately, no one spoke up until Julian Brandons was dead and Alice incapacitated.

The name on everyone’s lips was Brandy Holmes. Everyone knew she was a thief, neighbors were afraid of her, and deputies named her as a suspect before paramedics left the scene. In hour after the crimes were discovered, Brandy was suspect number one. The detectives had enough information to question her. They at least needed to ask if she ever told anyone she killed an elderly couple. Her home was within walking distance of the murder. Detectives Sheila and Kay found her there with her brother, mother, and boyfriend, Robert Coleman. Coleman was 33 years. She met him in Mississippi while staying with her father. The detectives brought all of them to the office. Brandy wore a black leather jacket. Kay recognized it as the one stolen in her neighbor’s burglary a week earlier. Kay wondered if she was ignorant or brash. By the end of the night, she knew the answer.

Brandy was either involved in the home invasion, or she heard about it from someone else. Women don’t usually commit home invasions. Maybe she heard about it from her boyfriend or brother. 

Of the four people the detectives took to the office, the only one who wasn’t a suspect was her mother.

The general rule for interviewing suspects is to interview the least culpable first. That way the main suspect has no idea what others have told detectives, and while he is waiting to be interviewed, he has plenty of time to think about how he should answer questions. The uncertainty of not knowing how to keep the story straight causes stress, and stress effects the way a person speaks, moves, and behaves. It helps the detectives recognize deception. Following the rule, Brandy’s mother should have been interviewed first. Instead, the detectives interviewed Robert Coleman first.

    Coleman was an unemployed, convicted robber and thief. He told the detectives he and Brandy had been together for two months. They met when she moved to Mississippi with her father. In December, they came to Shreveport to spend Christmas with her mother. They arrived at the bus station in Shreveport on Christmas Eve. Robert’s alibi was simple: he got drunk every night, slept every day until 2 pm, and never left Brandy’s trailer. When they asked him to give Brandy an alibi, he had nothing to offer. He said he had no idea what his girlfriend did while he was drunk or asleep.

Since three newspapers were found in the Brandon’s driveway, the detectives estimated the attack occurred on Thursday, January 2, but they were one day off. For Robert, it didn’t matter. His alibi was the same either day.

Kay and Sheila interviewed Brandy’s brother and mother together. Her brother said he was home the night the Brandons were attacked. The detectives confirmed his alibi because he was on house arrest in juvenile court. He said he didn’t know anything about the murders, and Brandy never said anything about it. Kay and Sheila didn’t believe him. The case would have to take a dramatic turn before he would cooperate.

    Brandy’s mother denied any knowledge of the crimes, and as a faithful matriarch, she gave a sweeping alibi for the whole family. She said everyone was home all week long. Her alibi was the same as Robert’s: broad and vague. Kay noticed two gold necklaces around her neck, and she asked her where they came from. She said they were gifts from Brandy. The detectives glanced at each other. Brandy was an unemployed, convicted burglar with no means or income. Two months earlier, Kay caught her with a necklace Brandy gave her that came from a house she burglarized. Kay had probable cause to arrest Brandy, but her little brother confessed because Brandy was on probation. That’s why he wore an ankle monitor. The detectives seized the necklaces. Her mother realized the implication and asked for a lawyer, ending the interview.

A detective’s goal in an interview is to get an alibi. If the suspect doesn’t give

a detailed alibi, it is suspicious, and casts doubt on his credibility. The first three suspects gave vague, generalized alibis. Nothing Robert Coleman told them convinced them he was innocent, and nothing her mother and brother said convinced them they were not aware of what happened.

Evidence and testimony that is favorable to a suspect is called exculpatory evidence. Evidence or testimony that points to a suspect’s guilt is called inculpatory evidence. Both exculpatory and inculpatory evidence must be corroborated before a case goes to trial. If the detective doesn’t tie up every loose end, the defense attorney will point it out during trial to discredit him. All information must be taken seriously and be validated or proven untrue; however, the priority of a fresh case is locating suspects and developing probable cause to put them behind bars. Details can be worked out later. To jump ahead in pursuit of exculpatory evidence during the initial stages of the investigation can be a distraction from the main priority. The detectives would soon learn that lesson.

Despite his solid alibi, some people thought Brandy’s brother was involved in the crimes, but neither Brandy nor Robert had such an alibi. It was after midnight. The investigation was 6 hours old. Sometimes it is difficult to get suspects to talk but not Brandy. Talking was the reason she was being interviewed in the first place. The challenge with her was to determine what was true and what was fabricated. 

    The protocol for interview and interrogation is to interview first, then interrogate if necessary. The goal of the interview is to get a detailed alibi. It is not a debate between a detective and suspect; it is the opportunity for the suspect to give his side of the story. Once a detective has as much of an alibi as he can get, he should leave the suspect alone, review his notes, and answer two basic questions. First, did the suspect give a clear detailed alibi, and second, did the suspect appear to be truthful? If the answer to either question is no, the detective should do an interrogation.

The interrogation is different than the interview. During the interrogation, the detective reasons with the suspect, applies the unique circumstances of the case to the crime, and explains how the suspect is the only person who could have committed it. He tells the suspect why his alibi doesn’t work.

    Brandy took control of her interview from the beginning, which wasn’t surprising, but then she did something the detectives didn’t expect. Instead of giving an alibi, she blamed the crime on someone else. She told the detectives she knew she would be blamed for the murder, but she didn’t have any firsthand information because her old friend Donny Williams (not his real name) called her and told her he broke in the house on Primitive Baptist Church Road and killed the people inside. She told them where Donny lived. Kay and Sheila left her with Lieutenant Duncan and rushed off to find him, but Donny didn’t live there anymore. They found another address and talked to a man fitting his description, but he said his name was Josh, and he lived there with his wife. When they asked to speak to her, he admitted he was Donny. He had an outstanding warrant, so Kay and Sheila arrested him and took him to the office. When they arrived, Captain Abraham met them at the door. That was when the case took a sudden turn.

    While the detectives were gone, Bobby Abraham spoke to Brandy, and she admitted that she and Robert Coleman committed the home invasion at the Brandon’s on New Years Day, and she told him about another homicide that was unreported. She said they killed a man named Terrance Blaze 24 hours earlier. Over the next two days, Brandy retold her story a dozen times, and each time it was different. In one story, Donny was involved and Robert wasn’t. In another, she was the shooter, and in another, a man known only as Marcus killed Terrance Blaze. Brandy was the only constant in her stories, but she could not remove Robert from the crimes by lying. The two were together from the start.

    In her report, Kay wrote, “Brandy did not cry or become upset at any time during the interviews. When she talked about the murder of Mr. Brandon and the attempted murder of Mrs. Brandon she talked as if it was an everyday affair.”

           After her confession, Brandy led Kay to Terrance Blaze’s body beside a gravel road right where she left him. Brandy asked Kay, “Ms. Ward, have you ever loved somebody so much you would do anything for them?” Kay asked if she was talking about Robert Coleman. She was.

    Back at the office, Brandy told detectives she had a dream the night before. She dreamed she was at the Brandon’s house and saw Alice lying on the floor alive. She woke up and told Robert, “The bitch is still alive!” On Sunday afternoon, four hours before the crime was discovered, Brandy went back to the Brandon’s to see if her dream was true, but instead of taking Robert or Donny, she took her nephews. When they got to the house, she asked them if they wanted to see a dead man. The oldest one said no and refused to go inside, but the 9 year-old had never seen a dead man. When he saw Julian on the floor in a pool of blood by the front door, he ran out of the house leaving Brandy alone with the Brandon’s dog who was crouched beside his master, growling. Brandy heard Alice in the bedroom struggling to breath. She went to the bedroom intending to finish her off by slitting her throat, but the dog blocked the bedroom door and prevented her from going further. She left the house to call 911, but she never got around to it.

    It was mid-morning. Robert Coleman was dozing in the conference room. Kay felt she didn’t have probable cause to arrest him, so she asked Detective Jay Morgan to take him home. Jay took Robert to Brandy’s house and left him at the front door. When the Captain found out Robert had been released, he ordered Kay to get him back immediately. She called Jay just before he got back to the office. He found Robert at the front door of the trailer with his luggage in his hands. Robert asked him for a ride to the bus station. Jay said he would take him when they finished at the office. He helped Robert load his bags in the trunk.

At the office, Kay searched the Mississippian’s bag and found a pair of jeans with burgundy stains on them. Robert said they were rust, but they tested positive for blood. He changed his story and said the blood came from a cut on his hand. Kay booked him in jail for first degree murder. At booking, she seized his boots and put them in evidence.

    Kay booked Brandy for first degree murder. At the booking desk, she told deputies her nickname was Trouble.

    Paul Carmouche had been the District Attorney in Caddo Parish for 24 years. He told the Shreveport Times, “My experience has been that normally you’d see this from a man. It’s just our experience in Caddo Parish that less of these types of crimes are committed by women. That type of case normally results in the death penalty.”

    Women who kill usually don’t kill people the way Brandy did; they kill someone they know. Half the women on death row in this country are there for murdering a husband, boyfriend, child, or grandchild.

In an article from the Shreveport Times, Victor Streib, an Ohio law professor and expert on women and the death penalty said, “The sort of classic stranger-killing that men engage in is unusual for women. We have found that a group of women, those who kill a stranger, who kill in a very violent, shocking kind of way … if a women does that, this group seems to be treated (by juries) like a man.”

The death penalty was on everyone’s mind. The crimes were brutal and senseless. The town of Blanchard was shaken. A day after the arrests, Perry Hughes who lived down the road from the Brandons told the Shreveport. Times, “This has been devastating for the neighborhood.” Bubba Talbert, a friend of the Brandon’s said, “It’s been a nightmare …it’s devastating. It’s like a bad dream. We’re all shaken.”

The detectives tracked down a list of witnesses. Robbery had been in the couple’s plans from the beginning. They stole Brandy’s father’s pistol in Mississippi and planned to steal a lot of money and retire in Mississippi. When they arrived in Louisiana, they told people they were going to hit a lick, and their desire to rob and kill was without discretion. Brandy’s friends were as likely to be targets as were strangers. During the week of Christmas, Brandy called two people she knew and offered them sex for money. She told them she needed money to get back to Mississippi, but the plan was to rob them. Before the end of the week, Terry Blaze took the bait and ended up dead.

On New Year’s Eve, the day before the Brandon home invasion, there was a party at Brandy’s trailer. One of her friends walked in the bedroom when her brother handed Robert a small pistol. The witness was uncomfortable and left the room. A few minutes later, Robert came looking for him and apologized and told him about their plan to commit a robbery.


*****


The week between Christmas and New Years, the couple were still working out their plans to make a major heist. The Sheriff’s Office Radio Room received a phone call from someone asking for the code to get in the gate at Nob Hill, an exclusive gated neighborhood in Blanchard. The caller said she was from Chicago and was in town visiting her mother but could not reach her on the phone. The dispatcher said the caller sounded like a white woman trying to sound black, and she didn’t have a Chicago accent. The Caller ID showed the call came from Brandy’s house.

To avoid the gate, the robbers went to Nob Hill, on foot with the intent of luring someone outside and ambushing them. They knocked on a woman’s door and told her they were trying to find a friend’s house. She saw Robert hiding in the bushes and quickly slammed the door and locked it. She called 911, but no one was there when the deputies arrived. Three nights later, They went back to the same house. The woman would not open the door and called 911. Once again the couple fled. According to the Shreveport Times, “The convicted killer later told detectives had the woman let her in, she would have done the same things to her she did to the Brandons.”

Brandy’s brother stone-walled detectives when they interviewed him Sunday night, but now that sister was in jail, he wanted to talk. They knew he wasn’t involved in the murders, but as they suspected, he knew about the murders all along. He told detectives Brandy and Robert left home on January 1 around 10 pm to go for a walk, and he described the clothes they were wearing. They came back 45 minutes later, and Brandy locked herself in the bathroom while Robert went to the bedroom and shut the door. As soon as she came out of the bathroom, Robert went in, and she went to the bedroom. He knew something was going on, so he asked her. She told him they did something really bad. When he pressed her, she told him she, Donny, and Robert killed an old couple, but he never saw Donny with them. Robert told him he fought an old man, stabbed him with a knife, then threw the knife in the kitchen sink. It was supposed to be a robbery, but Brandy told him they only got $6 cash and some credit cards. He knew the crimes weren’t just about money. His sister and her boyfriend wanted to be somebody.

He said Brandy returned to the crime scene twice looking for more jewelry. She told her brother she could hear Alice struggling to breath both times she was there. She showed him the .380 pistol she stole from her father. Robert kept it in his travel bag most of the time, but sometimes he took it out and waved it around.

The detectives asked him about the night Terrance Blaze was murdered. He told them, “I know she was calling him a lot. She was calling him trying to get him over to the house and stuff.” Brandy and Robert left in his mother’s car on Saturday night, January 4 shortly after dark.

The car was equipped with a breath machine attached to the ignition to prevent an intoxicated person from driving it. Brandy’s mom had the equipment installed by court order after she was convicted of a DWI. She was an alcoholic, and later she used her alcoholism to defend her

daughter.

Brandy blew in the machine to get the car started which inferred that Robert was drunk when he drove. They told the family they were going to Western Union to pick up some money for bus fare back to Mississippi. About an hour later, they returned home, and Robert put

the .380 pistol in his coat pocket. He said the gun had blood on it. After they spent a few minutes inside the trailer, they went back outside and cleaned the interior of the car with bleach and detergent. They used white towels to wipe blood from the seats. Later, they left the house twice. When they returned, “They acted different. They acted upset, like – I’m not sure what they acted like or how they were feeling or anything, but they were nervous.” He saw blood on the towels and knew they shot someone. He told the detectives the bloody towels were still at the house in a garbage bag.

Detectives looked inside his momma’s car and saw what appeared to be blood on the seats. They seized the car, got a search warrant, and did the search. The car was drenched in bleach, but they recovered blood evidence. When they searched her house, they found the bloody towels from that night in the bathroom.

One of the mysteries of the case was Brandy’s claim that Donny Williams was involved. She not only told detectives, she also told her little brother, but despite her claims, Donny adamantly denied any involvement, and he had an alibi. Donny and his wife had a New Year’s party at their home, and several people were there and verified his presence. Furthermore, there was no physical evidence to link him to the crimes, and Brandy’s brother never saw him with her and Robert before or after the murders. Early in the investigation, Brandy told detectives where Donny lived, but it was his old address. If he was involved, she should have known where he was living. So, why accuse him? It appeared that Donny and Brandy had a relationship in the past, and when she came back from Mississippi, she saw him in the neighborhood. He told her he was married and working a steady job. Between Christmas and New Year’s she called him and asked him to bring his wife over so she could meet her, but his wife refused. It appears Brandy was jealous, and feeling scorned, she blamed him in retaliation.

Of the five people suspected in the crimes, two of them, Donny and Brandy’s brother, had clear cut alibis, and one of them, Marcus, did not exist. The only thing that would change thingswas physical evidence, but physical evidence against the three was never found. Brandy and Robert were not so lucky.

The detectives searched Brandy’s home twice. During the initial search they found two pillows that appeared to have bullet holes in them, a box of rubber gloves, a Wal-Mart shopping card, and some bloody clothing. The second search was a week later. They found spent .380 shells and jewelry wrapped in a rubber glove in the gutter. One of the pieces of jewelry was a bracelet which was identified by Alice Brandon’s daughter as a gift she gave her mother for Christmas a few years earlier.

Two weeks after Robert Coleman was arrested for the murder of Julian Brandon, he called and asked to speak with detectives. They believed he was ready to tell the truth, but it didn’t happen. Brandy was evil, but she confessed her crimes. Coleman never did. He was only concerned for himself. When the detectives arrived at the jail to talk to him, he said, “The reason why I wanted– the reason why I – like I said, I asked for someone, you know, I don’t know nothing about none of this here.” The sentence, “I don’t know nothing...” contains a double negative and according to the rules of grammar, “A double negative is the nonstandard usage of two negatives used in the same sentence so that they cancel each other and create a positive.” (From Literary Education on Line) Experienced detectives listen for double negatives because they indicate deception. It was the closest Robert ever came to a confession.

He stammered through the interview, trying to distance himself from Brandy. He said, “I didn’t even know Brandy was this type of person, you know...” but he knew  what type of person she was. He needed a woman to influence, and he found her. He stuck to his alibi of sleeping and drinking and told them nothing new. He called them because he had a complaint: he was not pleased with the way he was being portrayed at the jail. He said, “I’m being treated – I’m being treated as – as I’m – I’m a murderer, you know.”

A year passed…then two. Robert Coleman went to trial first on the Brandon case. His defense team portrayed him as a victim of a crazy girlfriend. The defense concluded that since he never admitted to being involved, he could not be guilty. The DA’s Office assigned their heavy hitters to the case: Lea Hall, Ed Blewer, and Hugo Holland. Coleman’s defense team consisted of men who spoke up for the disenfranchised and were opposed to the death penalty. They equated the death of Julian Brandon with the death of Charles Manson, all in a pretense of placing a high value on life. The Caddo DAs Office sought the death penalty for Robert Coleman.

On Sunday, February 13, 2005, Assistant District Attorney Ed Blewer made his opening statements in Judge Scott Crichton’s courtroom. Ed told the jury there were two New Year’s Eve parties on December 31, 2002 in Blanchard, Louisiana. One of them was at the Julian Brandon’s home, and the other was the Brandy Holmes’ home. At the Brandon’s, guests ate good food and enjoyed each other’s company as they looked forward to a new year. At the other party, Robert Coleman and Brandy Holmes were planning a home invasion. The prosecution called the witness who saw Robert with a gun on New Year’s Eve. He told about Coleman asking him where he could hit a lick.

Detectives testified about searching Brandy’s house and finding Alice Brandon’s jewelry and two pillows with bullet holes in them. They told the jury about Robert’s arrest and seizing his boots. A criminologist took the stand. He explained how he found and identified Julian Brandon’s blood on Robert Coleman’s boots.

The prosecution called two inmates as witnesses. Collies Sharpes and Bobbie Evans, had conversations with Coleman at Caddo Correction Center. According to the Shreveport Times, “’Coleman said they were in a knock – off game,’ Sharpes testified. ‘He said they were in to robbing, breaking in and knocking people off. A knocking off is a thing they do to kill people.’” Bobbie Evans told the jury Coleman told him he was testing Brandy Holmes to see if she could kill someone. Brandy failed because she, “…ratted everyone out.” The stories corroborated Brandy Holmes question to Kay Ward when they found Terrance Blaze’s body, “Have you ever loved somebody so much you would do anything for them?” Brandy’s motivation for the crime spree was Robert Coleman.

Caddo Coroner, Dr. George McCormick took the stand for the prosecution. He told the jurors Julian Brandon suffered nine fatal wounds in a “blitz attack.” The Coroner said Julian did not have a chance.

When the prosecution rested, the defense called its witnesses. Their strategy was to muddy the water as much as possible. To do so, they blamed the crimes on Brandy Holmes and her brother. They said Robert Coleman had nothing to do with the home invasion of the Brandons. They claimed he could not have been involved because an eyewitness saw two white males at the scene. To prove their claim they explained that Brandy was white and boyish looking, and due to her behavior, she could have easily been mistaken for a male. They said the second white male was either Brandy’s brother or Donny Williams. Robert Coleman couldn’t have been involved because he was black.

The defense called the paramedic from Life Air Rescue, the local medical helicopter that took Alice to the hospital on January 5, 2003. Tommy Adams was a well known Shreveport Fireman with twenty five years of experience. Though he had no role in the investigation, he asked Alice a question while they were flying to the hospital. The Times reported, “A paramedic who treated the wife of homicide victim the Rev. Julian Brandon told jurors Wednesday that the woman was lucid when she described two white males who shot her and her husband.” Adams unwittingly gave them the opening they needed to inject their conspiracy theory into the trial. If Alice Brandon said two white males shot her and her husband, her statement should be taken seriously, but the obvious problem was that Alice Brandon had two gunshot wounds to the head and was found on the floor of her bedroom where she lay helplessly for four days before help arrived. Her telephone was inches away from her, but she was incapable of using or even locating it to call 9-1-1. If not for concerned friends, she would have died on her bedroom floor from blood loss, dehydration, and hunger. Describing Alice as lucid was questionable.

During cross examination, ADA Lea Hall pointed out that Adams asked Alice short, closed ended questions such as, how many attackers were there, and were they white or black. The deputies at the scene, who were the ones in charge of the investigation, didn’t ask Alice

any questions because her injuries were life threatening. Sergeant Bill Gaines, wrote in his report that he heard Alice gurgling while she fought to breathe, and she had froth coming from her mouth. Bill wrote in his report, “She told one of the paramedics her first name was ‘Alice,’ answered ‘yes’ to the question of whether she wore glasses and ‘no’ to whether she wanted them brought to the hospital. One of the rescuers asked her if she knew how she had been injured and she did not respond. I asked her no questions as not to interfere with her medical treatment.” The prosecution put Alice’s daughter on the stand. She had been caring for her for over two years since the shootings. She testified that Alice was unable to speak clearly and unable to testify in court.

On Thursday, February 17, 2005, attorneys made closing arguments. After 4-1/2 hours of deliberation, the jury found Robert Glen Coleman guilty of the first degree murder of Julian Brandon. The Louisiana statute for first degree murder fit Coleman’s crime for at least three reasons: Coleman had specific intent to kill or inflict great bodily harm while engaged in (1) an armed robbery, (2) on more than one person, and (3) upon a victim sixty-five years or older. In Louisiana, a guilty verdict of first degree murder qualifies the offender for the death penalty. If the offender receives mercy, he is given a life sentence at hard labor.

Not everyone was happy about the verdict. Coleman’s mother told the Shreveport Times, “Justice was not served.” After the verdict, Caddo Assistant District Attorney Lea Hall observed, “More than anything, it was him wearing the bloody boots. He couldn’t escape his own boots.” Ultimately, there was more real evidence of murder and mayhem against Robert Coleman than there was against Charles Manson. On Saturday, February 19, 2005, the nine woman, three man jury on the Coleman case heard arguments for and against the death penalty. According to the Times, Defense Attorney Richard Goorley told the jury, ”I’d like to know if you think Robert Coleman is the one who did it, was he with the person who did it or did he know who did? Is that enough for you to take someone’s life when you’re not sure what his involvement was? It’s ironic that the state says that killing someone is wrong, however, we need to kill someone.” Prior to the return of the verdict, “Goorley asked that Coleman’s life be spared, stressing that sentencing him to death would have the same effect on the Coleman family that the minister’s death has had on the Brandon family.”

Despite the defense’s attempts, Robert Coleman was sentenced to death. 


*****


During her stay in the Caddo Parish Jail, Brandy, aka Trouble, racked up 44 disciplinary incidents. There was the time she was chewing on her wrist and refused to quit, and deputies placed her in a restraint chair. She escaped from the chair, so they strapped her to a board. Then there was the time she told a deputy she looked up her address in the telephone book, and she was coming to her house to kill her.

Sheila Wright was the Director of the nursing staff at Caddo Correction Center. She had close to twenty years in law enforcement when Trouble came to CCC. Sheila was there for Brandy’s initial mental health evaluation. She described her as, “. . . extremely animated.” During the meeting, Brandy told them she only lacked a semester or two from graduating from nursing school, but it was obvious from her records that she never went to college. Besides that, nursing schools don’t enroll felons, but to Brandy, a lie was as good as the truth. Sheila Wright said, “… it was as if she didn’t have a soul.”

Almost exactly a year after Robert Coleman’s trial, on February 11, 2006, Brandy Holmes went to trial. It had been three years since the tragedy. Caddo ADA Lea Hall made this opening statement, “It was murder for the sake of murder. Keep that phrase in mind because that’s exactly what this case is about.” The defense countered with, “There’s no evidence beyond reasonable doubt that Brandy Holmes is guilty of first-degree murder. Evidence will show she’s guilty of second-degree murder.”

When your attorney agrees with the prosecution that you are guilty of murder, it is not good. For the defense, there was no use denying the obvious. Their only hope was to keep her off death row. They claimed Robert Coleman was the real bad guy, and Brandy just submitted to peer pressure. They claimed he had specific intent to kill, but Brandy didn’t.

On the second day of the trial, the prosecution put Brandy’s 12 year old nephew on the stand. He was a tender, 9 year old when Aunt Brandy took him on a field trip to the home where she and Coleman left two people for dead. He told the court she took him there to see his first dead body. She led him inside, and he saw an old man lying in a pool of blood. He turned and ran out the back door.

Day three highlighted the physical evidence in the case. Detectives believed the pistol used in the crimes was stolen from Brandy’s father in Mississippi, but it was allegedly in the bottom of nearby Cross Lake. They went to Mississippi and found a tree that was used as a back stop for target practice with the pistol, and they recovered a .380 bullet from the tree. They sent it to the crime lab to be compared to a partial bullet removed from Julian Brandon’s head. The bullets were a forensic match proving they were fired from the same gun. There was other evidence as well, such as Alice Brandon’s jewelry found at Brandy’s home, and Brandy’s bracelet that was found in the Brandon’s kitchen.

The defense did their best to cast doubt on Brandy’s involvement. They claimed she was intoxicated when detectives picked her up on January 5th and unable to give a coherent story. They told the jury she made multiple statements during her seven hours with detectives, sometimes admitting to the crimes and sometimes blaming someone else. They said she was confused and should be pitied rather than condemned, but they didn’t mention the confessions Brandy made to many people, including her 9 year old nephew.

On Valentine’s Day, 2006, the 4 man, 8 woman jury went behind closed doors for deliberation. After 30 minutes, they returned to the courtroom and found Brandy guilty of first degree murder. The verdict made the 26 year old eligible for the death penalty. All that was left was the sentencing phase. The only two choices were a life sentence or the death penalty. February 15th was spent debating the issue, and the prosecution pulled no punches. They told the jury about Brandy and Robert’s plot to murder residents in the gated neighborhood of Nob Hill. They put Captain Abraham on the stand to recount Brandy’s original story of the murder of Terrance Blaze.

The defense team put Brandy’s mother on the stand. She told them she had been an alcoholic her whole adult life including the nine months she was pregnant with Brandy. She loved alcohol so much, she named her baby after her favorite drink. The defense said Brandy was a victim of fetal alcohol syndrome which caused a personality disorder. They said she was not responsible for her behavior.

The presiding judge was Scott J. Crichton. In response to the defense’s claim that Brandy was mentally deficient, he told the court, “…there is no evidence that she is mentally retarded by law.” According to the Louisiana Code of Criminal Procedure, Title XXI, Chapter 1, Article 641, “Mental incapacity to proceed exists when, as a result of mental disease or defect, a defendant presently lacks the capacity to understand the proceedings against him or to assist in his defense.” As Judge Crichton pointed out, Brandy had been found fit to go to trial. If she was competent to be tried, she was competent to be sentenced.

The defense looked to local Psychiatrist Mark Vigen for help. He said, “This woman has no sense of herself. She hasn’t learned anything. Brandy doesn’t even know who she is.” People familiar with Brandy and the case would disagree. To them, Brandy knew exactly who she was, and what she wanted to be. She built her character and reputation on breaking rules, and she earned her nickname. She learned nothing from her arrest and trial because that was who she was. She wanted to be a cold, calculated killer, and she achieved her goal.

Brandy’s attorney, David McClatchey, told the jury, “I know she has done some of the most horrible things you can think of, but I’m begging you for mercy to spare Brandy’s life. She’s not like a puppy you get for Christmas that’s defective and you throw it away. Whatever that’s in her head to make right or wrong choices does not work. That’s the way God gave Brandy to us, and we can’t change that.”

Before Judge Scott Crichton handed down Brandy’s sentence he told the court, “I must say this case ranks among the most horrific murders in the history of Caddo Parish. I believe Ms. Holmes earned the death penalty.” He sent Brandy to Death Row at St. Gabriel Women’s Prison in Baton Rouge where she became the second woman on death row. Antoinette Frank was the first.

In 1995, Antoinette Frank was a New Orleans Police Officer. Having grown up in the inner city, Antoinette wanted to help wayward kids. One of the persons she helped was 18 year old gunshot victim, Rogers LaCaze. Frank bought LaCaze clothes, a pager, and even a cell phone. She visited him regularly and soon began spending all her spare time with him. It seemed suspicious, but no one complained. Later, Alice Chaney, LaCaze’s mother said, “Frank became obsessed with him.”

Like many police officers, Antoinette supplemented her income working off duty security. One of the officers on her shift was Ronnie Williams. Williams, a 25 year old father of two, was in charge of security at a Vietnamese restaurant called Kim Anh. Kim Anh was owned

and operated by the Nguyen family. Officer Williams had Antoinette fill in when he needed someone to work at the restaurant.

On March 3, 1995, Antoinette got off her patrol shift at 11pm and went by the restaurant twice. It was late and she wasn’t working at the restaurant, so employees were suspicious. At 2 am, Antionette showed up a third time with Rogers LaCaze. When one of the employees saw her pull up, she hid $10,000 in cash in the microwave. The door to the business was locked, but instead of leaving, Antoinette pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and came inside with LaCaze. Once inside, LaCaze took a 9mm pistol and shot Officer Ronnie Williams in the head, neck, and back. While Williams lay dying, LaCaze took his wallet from his back pocket and his pistol from the holster. He handed William’s pistol to Antoinette.

The Vu family were devout Catholics, and two of their children, Cuong and Ha, wanted to be a priest and a nun. Cuong and Ha were working that night, and they heard the gunshots that killed Officer Williams from the kitchen. Seconds later, Antoinette confronted them with the pistol and demanded money. Cuong and Ha dropped to their knees and in prayer believing it was more important to talk to God than the psychotic police officer. When they wouldn’t respond to her, Antoinette shot them ten times. Ha died instantly. Cuong was still alive, so Antoinette finished him off with a bullet to the head.

The robbers stole what cash they could find and fled. LaCaze dropped Antoinette off at a nearby police station where she was able to get the keys to a police car and return to Kim Anh as the first officer to arrive on scene. When other officers arrived minutes later, surviving employees timidly told them Franks was the one they were looking for. They took her to the station for questioning, and she confessed that Rogers LaCaze killed Officer Williams, and she killed Cuong and Ha, but she said she only did it because LaCaze forced her.

Justice was uncharacteristically swift for Antoinette. By October of the same year she went to trial and was convicted of first degree murder. It took very little deliberation to send her to death row. In a separate trial, Rogers LaCaze received the same fate.

A month after Antoinette’s trial, a dog dug up human bones under her house. Crime Scene Investigators found a skull with a bullet hole in it. The bones belonged to Antoinette’s father who lived with her until she reported him missing two years before the Kim Anh murders. She was never indicted for her father’s murder.

Robert Coleman’s conviction in 2006 was overturned over an issue with his jury, but he was convicted and received the death penalty again in 2012.  In 2016, both Brandy and Robert Coleman were taken off death row and sentenced to life but for different reasons. The Caddo District Attorney’s office felt Brandy’s conviction could be overturned because of conflicting testimony from a witness, so they made an agreement with her and gave her a life sentence. Robert was taken off death row and given a life sentence due to the exclusion of black jurors. The death penalty is a touchy topic in Louisiana. Though it is law and supported by a majority of residents, many experts believe Louisiana’s ability to execute criminals convicted of capital crimes has been hamstrung by the state’s appeals process. For example, Shreveport serial killer Nathaniel Code killed eight people in 1984-85. In 1989 he was convicted for four of the murders and given the death penalty. Thirty years later, Code still sits on death row. Only one prisoner has been executed in Louisiana since 2002: Gerald Bordelon. Gerald was a two time sex offender who was convicted and sentenced to death for kidnapping, raping, and murdering his 12 year-old step daughter. But in the world of death row inmates, Bordelon was unusual. He felt responsible for his crimes and wanted to die. He decided to abandon his appeals and subject himself to lethal injection, but his lawyers wouldn’t let him. He appealed to the Louisiana Supreme Court for his right to waive his appeals and won. He was executed in 2010. 

Not long ago, a life sentence in Louisiana was a life sentence, but that may be changing. As long as killers stay in jail for the rest of their lives, enforcing a death penalty that costs the state millions of dollars doesn’t make sense, but if killers like Brandy Holmes, Robert Coleman, Antoinette Franks, and Nathaniel Code could get out one day, the death penalty should be enforced. It won’t make murder go away, but it would make some murderers go away. The collateral damage from murder affects many innocent people.

Neither Brandy Holmes nor Robert Coleman were ever tried for the murder of Terrance Blaze on January 4, 2003.