CHAPTER 47

The investigators had all worked long and hard to assemble enough statements and interview transcripts to convince the grand jury to indict Randy and Shane Headrick. Now their attention turned to finding even more information to help the district attorney and his staff build a solid case to take to the courtroom.

On September 23, 1998, a man came forward with a note he had found on his porch the night before, around nine o’clock. The note was from a Headrick family member, and was intended to be for the man’s wife. It gave two different phone numbers where the family member could be reached, and said, “Please call. We’re all being framed.”

The man’s wife was at work, so he returned the call. The relative said the sheriff’s department had framed Randy Headrick, and wanted to know what time the man’s wife and son had gone to Builders Supply and talked to Headrick on the day of the murders.

“I told her I thought Randy had an alibi at work,” the man said, “but [the person I called] said that the sheriff’s department had intimidated that witness.”

The man turned the note over to Rhonda Jackson.

In order to get details on Headrick’s truck lease, the investigators called the owner of Harbin Ford in Scottsboro. He told them that William Randall Headrick had signed a two-year lease on February 25, 1995, on a red Ford F-150 pickup. The payments on the lease were $248.57 a month.

Shane’s alleged involvement in the murders was still not pinned down quite as tightly as the district attorney and the investigators would like for it to be. Jimmy Phillips knew Jill’s mother, and he talked to her in an attempt to find out what contact she’d had with Shane on the day of the murders.

“My husband called Mr. Headrick, Randy’s father, four or five days before the murders to let him know that he was going to pick Jill’s car up for her. My husband didn’t call Mr. Headrick the day of the murders and tell him he was coming to get the car. A friend called my husband and told him about the murders, and told him not to come and get the car because the lady had been murdered.

“I tried to call Jill in Atlanta all day on the day of the murders. I didn’t get hold of her that day, and I tried again on Saturday and was unable to contact them in Atlanta. I tried again on Sunday morning and Shane answered the phone. I asked him if he knew what was going on on Sand Mountain, and he said he hadn’t heard from anyone on Sand Mountain. I then told him his sister-in-law and her mother had been murdered. Shane’s response to this was ‘Well,’ and I told him to have Jill to call me back.

“In about five minutes, Jill called back and she was real upset and crying. Jill told me, to the best of my memory, that Shane was expecting it. I then told Jill not to go back over there with Shane, and she said that the people where she was would take her over there.

“I told her to get her clothes and come home, but she didn’t.”

There were so many different accounts, from so many different sources, on how Shane had first learned of the murders of Carolyn and Dora Ann, that it was going to take some time and effort to try and sort them out. The investigators knew that the timeline of events in Atlanta on the day of the murders was vital to proving Shane’s involvement . . . or proving his innocence.

As for Randy Headrick, still cooling his heels in the Etowah County Jail, he’d had enough of his current accommodations and was ready to make a move. On October 13, he signed a Consent to Transfer of Case for Plea and Sentencing.

The consent read, “I, William Randall Headrick, defendant, have been informed that an indictment is pending against me in the above designated case.” (Referring to the federal firearms charges brought against him by the ATF in the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Tennessee.) “I wish to plead guilty to the offenses charged and to consent to the disposition of the case in the Northern District of Alabama, in which I am under arrest, and to waive trial in the above captioned District.”

Headrick would now wait to be transferred to the DeKalb County Jail, where he most likely hoped visitation would be more convenient for his family. Life in the jail, however, would be no bed of roses.