Uncle John’s True Crime (10 page)

6. Folsom Prison inmate Glen Sherley wrote the song “Greystone Chapel” and credited Cash with changing his life
.

Glen Sherley was in Folsom for armed robbery, but he also loved music.
Before Cash arrived for the 1968 show, Sherley recorded the song “Greystone Chapel” at the prison chapel. Appropriately, it was about a man whose body is imprisoned but his soul is freed by religion. Cash’s pastor, who also counseled inmates, smuggled the tape out to Cash, who learned to play the song the night before the show. After seeing Cash perform his song, Sherley vowed to make a mark with the musician. Once he was released from Folsom, he went to work for Johnny Cash’s publishing company, House of Cash. Sherley later remarked, “I was a three-time loser when John reached out his hand to me in 1968, and since then I sincerely believe that I have become a worthwhile person and can contribute to society.”

True crime writer Ann Rule was Ted Bundy’s co-worker while she was researching the murders later found to be committed by him
.

7. Cash’s concert at Folsom landed him his own musical variety show:
The Johnny Cash Show
.

Cash noted, “I’ve always thought it ironic that it was a prison concert, with me and the convicts getting along just as fellow rebels, outsiders, and miscreants should, that pumped up my marketability to the point where ABC thought I was respectable enough to have a weekly network TV show.”

8. When Johnny Cash recorded
At San Quentin
in 1969, he didn’t know the lyrics to one of his most famous songs
.

It was the first time Cash had performed “A Boy Named Sue,” written by poet Shel Silverstein, so he had to read the lyrics from a sheet he’d stained with coffee. And before playing “Starkville City Jail,” Cash explained that he was thrown in the slammer for picking daisies and dandelions at two in the morning. (By other accounts, he was breaking curfew, drunk in public, and trespassing.)

9. Cash brushed up on his Swedish for a show overseas
.

In 1972 Cash went to Stockholm, Sweden, where he recorded the album
Pa Osteraker
at a Swedish prison. Between songs, he impressed and thrilled the inmates by introducing some of his songs in their language.

10. At the 1969 show, Cash’s song “San Quentin” nearly incited a riot there
.

He’d just written the song the night before, and its inflammatory lyrics like, “San Quentin, may you rot and burn in hell,” clearly struck a chord
with the audience. The prisoners clamored and stomped until he repeated the song. Shrieking and jumping up on tabletops, they were so close to rioting that the guards drew and cocked their guns and the camera crew backed up toward the exit doors. According to producer Bob Johnston, Cash later said of that hair-raising moment, “I knew that if I wanted to let those people go all I had to do was say, ‘The time is now.’ And all of those prisoners would’ve broken...I was tempted.” (But of course, he didn’t.)

*
*
*

An old man lived alone in the country. He wanted to plant a tomato garden, but it was difficult work, and his only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man described the predicament in a letter to his son.

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

At 4:00 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Odds that a burglary in the United States will be solved: 1 in 7
.

If they were really nice, they probably wouldn’t be crooks to begin with. But what else would you call a thief who apologizes?

G
IMME TEN

At 5:00 a.m. on November 17, 2003, a man walked into a 7-Eleven in Santee, California, pulled out a gun, and told the clerk to give him $10. The clerk gave the man the money, and the man ran off. At 10:00 a.m. the same man returned to the store, put $10 on the counter, and apologized for the robbery. The clerk didn’t wait for the apology—he immediately pressed the “panic” button under the counter. The police arrived and arrested the thief, who explained that he had stolen the money to buy gas for his car.

BEER NUT

Twenty-one-year-old Nicholas Larson stole a cash register from the Bonnema Brewing Co. in the town of Atascadero, California. Apparently he couldn’t stand the guilt, because the next day he called the brewery to apologize. The kicker: He turned himself in for the theft—even though the register had been empty.

SHOOTING BLANKS

A man walked into a Kansas liquor store, pulled out a gun, and told the clerk, “Give me everything in the register.” The clerk told him that it was empty—there was no money. “That’s okay,” the robber responded. “There aren’t any bullets in the gun. I was just kidding.”

CHANGE OF HEART

In January 2002, Ronald Van Allen went into the Savings Bank of Manchester in Manchester, Connecticut, and handed the teller a note. “This is a robbery!!” it read. “All I want is the money from the cash drawer. No one has to get hurt or shot but me. Sorry for your inconvenience.” Van Allen left with $2,000, but four days later, he walked into the Manchester police department with a bag full of the money, apologized, and turned himself in. “I wish all of our cases were solved like this,” said Detective Joseph Morrissey.

American crime rates have been falling steadily since 1980
.

A mysterious death reveals a deep, dark secret. Lives are changed forever; the community is shocked. Mrs. Uncle John finds her husband in the arms of—no, wait! That’s not part of the story
.

L
AST NIGHT

On the evening of March 18, 2003, a 75-year-old Tampa, Florida, socialite named Jean Ann Cone drove to the home of friends to help plan the annual benefit gala for the Tampa Museum of Art. She had a few drinks while she was there, and when it came time to leave, another woman, Bobbie Williams, followed behind Cone’s Rolls Royce to make sure she got home safely. Cone’s husband, Douglas, was away on business, so she appreciated the offer.

When the two women arrived at the Cone residence, Williams watched as Cone pulled into her garage and closed the automatic door behind her; then Williams drove home.

It was the last time anyone saw Mrs. Cone alive.

NOBODY HOME

At 5:00 p.m. the following day, the part-time housekeeper, Norma Gotay, arrived and noticed that Cone’s bed was neatly made. That was unusual because it was Gotay’s job to make it, but she assumed that Cone must have slept at a friend’s house.

A little later, a friend of Cone’s came by to take her to a baseball game they had planned to see together. All Gotay could tell the friend was that Cone was not home and that she had no idea where she was. At 7:00 p.m., Gotay finished her work and went home without ever seeing her employer. It wasn’t until Cone missed a lunch appointment the next day that people began to worry.

Someone called Cone’s daughter Julianne McKeel to ask if
she
knew her mother’s whereabouts. McKeel promptly went over and searched the house but couldn’t find any sign of her mother—until she checked the garage and saw the Rolls Royce parked in a puddle of green antifreeze. The windows were rolled up, all four doors were locked, and there, slumped in the driver’s seat, was Jean Ann Cone. She was dead.

What domestic terrorist was a former UC Berkeley professor? Ted “Unabomber” Kaczynski
.

WEIGHING THE EVIDENCE

Considering the unusual circumstances surrounding Mrs. Cone’s death and her prominence in Tampa society, the investigation into her death was surprisingly short.

Facts of the case:

There was no indication that Cone was despondent or suicidal in the days leading up to her death.

The garage door was in the closed position when the body was discovered, and so was the door into the house.

Cone was on medication, and the autopsy revealed that her blood-alcohol level at the time of her death was 0.18 percent—twice the legal limit. She had had a history of episodes of light-headedness caused by her medications, something that alcohol might have made even worse.

Her car key was still in the ignition of the Rolls Royce, and it was turned to the on position, even though the engine was not running when she was found.

Julianne McKeel confirmed that her mother was in the habit of pulling into the garage and closing the garage door behind her before shutting off the engine, unlocking the door, and getting out of the car.

The police considered all the evidence and concluded that Cone’s death was accidental. They surmised that when she arrived home on the evening of the 18th, she pulled into her garage, closed the door behind her, and then passed out behind the wheel of her car before she could shut off the engine. The victim of too much alcohol and prescription drugs, she did not regain consciousness in time to turn off the ignition, and suffocated on the exhaust fumes that filled the closed garage. The car kept running until it overheated—which explained the puddle of antifreeze—and then stalled.