S28 E4: Bunkley | "Someone Knows Something"

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Say something.

Can you say something to me?

Okay, now do you have the mic?

Give it to me.

I gotta stick it on.

Hello, check, check, check.

Hello, check.

Check, Mr.

Edwards, check, check, check.

Mr.

Edwards, check.

How the hell am I gonna turn around?

How are you, sir?

I'm okay.

I'm David.

I'm down here

working on a documentary.

I'm here with the brother of Charles Moore.

Oh, you can get through.

Go get back in your car.

He just wants to talk.

I'm sorry, so he just wants to talk.

You are listening to Someone Knows Something from CBC Original Podcasts.

In season three, David Ridgen revisits his 2007 documentary, Mississippi Cold Case.

Teaming up with Thomas Moore to investigate the murders of his brother, Charles Moore, and Henry Dee, two 19-year-olds who were killed by the Ku Klux Klan in 1964.

This is episode 4,

Bunkley.

Now you talk about terror.

I think you talk about terror.

People have been terrorized

all my days.

All my days.

Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and area in August 2005.

Thomas and I had already returned to our respective homes and continued to work on the D.

Moore case from afar.

The catastrophe kept the news of Seal's existence out of play for a month, and over the next several, I was able to get through the entire set of FBI files Jerry Mitchell had given us and find many more documents, photos and media clips, in other U.S.

archives.

Where's that one that talks about Joe Lee Rollins?

I made notes on most every page and created a comprehensive database of names and stories the FBI heard that I wanted to re-examine.

Hey, David.

Oh hey Thomas, how's it going?

Thomas and I spoke every day on the phone, sometimes more than once, and we also both kept in close touch with U.S.

Attorney Dunn Lambton and others.

David.

Hey David.

Hi Mr.

Lampton, how are you doing?

Hi, what you got?

Still, top of our minds were James Ford Seal and Charles Marcus Edwards.

James Ford Seale was well known along with his family for violence in the region and was a suspect in several crimes, including the dynamiting of the Blue Flame Saloon in Bude, for assisting in the murder of a white man named Earl Hodges in summer of 65, and for running over and killing a black man named Bailey O'Dell with his truck on the Bunkley Road in the summer of 1966.

Seal was also known for threatening people, including one of his neighbors, for having a black maid.

Seal and his fellow Klansmen would come together often in the Bunkley community, meeting at a property owned by a man named Archie Prather.

Their meetings were supposedly part of the Bunkley Hunting Club or a Rodden Gun Club, a euphemism for Clan Clavern.

Charles Marcus Edwards was seemingly a workaday papermill employee with a short military career, a wife named Penny, and two young sons back in 1964.

However, Edwards moved from his home in the Kirby community on May 3, 1964, the day after Dean Moore disappeared from Meadville.

With new information in hand, we returned south again in March 2006, the next trip of many I would make south almost always with Thomas.

This time we would try approaching Edwards at his home, deep in the backwoods of Franklin County, to see if he would talk to Thomas.

Time for a drive down Bunkley Road.

This place has deteriorated terribly in the last 40 years, so what you see is a

measurement stick.

How far have we really gone?

Bunkley was the Klan stronghold in Franklin County at the time and many of the most violent members lived here.

But times changed and the white community over the years had sold off or abandoned their former properties.

As we drove the roughly 12 miles to Edwards' house, I saw barking dogs and shanty shacks, cleared grassy spaces where farms would have been, all covered in a drifting brimstone of smoke from controlled burns in the surrounding homachito pine woods.

It had just started to rain as I drove up.

I approached Edwards' house trying to calm his black and white dog.

Hey there.

Edwards himself rose from a swing chair under a porch.

He was a robust-looking man in his 70s with a salt and pepper mustache and big glasses, dressed in a gray sweatsuit with a camouflage pattern hunting cap.

He just just wants to talk of my place.

I'm sorry, sir.

He just wants to talk.

I don't want to talk about that.

I'm not guilty of that, and I've had enough of it.

Get in your car and get away from me.

He wasn't guilty of that, he says.

I'm sure Mr.

Moore would just like a few words.

I'm not having nothing to do with him, and I want you to get off my land.

Okay, sorry, sir.

Thank you, sir.

He had planned that Thomas, who was back in the van, would accompany me, but when I returned to the vehicle with Edwards' barky dog in fixed pursuit of my heels, I found Thomas crouching on the floor.

The way the van was situated, I had to make a several-point turn at the end of Edwards' dead-end country road and drive past him again.

As we went by, I noticed Edwards was holding a crowbar and hitting the side of an old shack at the foot of his property with it.

Duck when we go by here.

I'm not leaving here without seeing that guy, that's for sure.

Couldn't have asked for better, he was sitting on his porch.

I knew Thomas was angry with himself and I could barely bring myself to talk to him about it.

Later, months later, Thomas would admit to me that he'd felt like a failure for not confronting Edwards.

When the moment came, he was struck by an overwhelming anxiety that kept him down on the floor of the van.

Do you think that you'll ever be able to talk to Charles Marcus Edwards or James Ford Seal?

I'm not going to ever say I won't be able to, but you got to ask yourself how long

time is running out.

Do we ever have the time?

Opportunity.

I think this was the greatest opportunity to talk to Markham.

But

I was kind of thinking that you were going to maybe reach your head out and say something.

I was trying to figure out why you didn't, but

it was a difficult time in the case, a point where Thomas and I were still gathering information and interviewing, and the southern authorities seemed to be waiting for us to give them more reasons to budge.

There was an FBI agent

by the name of Bill Dukes who questioned them.

He's deceased.

There was an FBI agent by the name of Curtis Perriman.

He's deceased.

Jim Ingram, a man who had a long history with Mississippi law enforcement and the FBI, was brought out of retirement by Dunn Lampton to help find aging witnesses for the Dean Moore case.

And he wasn't having much luck.

There's an FBI agent, Lenny.

He is in an Alzheimer's home in California.

He doesn't even know who he is.

There's two

highway patrol investigators.

They were in on the interviews.

They are dead.

So that's exactly where we are.

Not a great place to be if we hope to build a case against Edwards and Seale.

A fact not lost on Lambton.

I've just come to the realization that whatever we're going to do, it needs to be done quickly.

I mean, if this thing drags

out much longer, it will be moved.

And it gets

less and less prosecutable every day.

I totally agree.

That's where we are.

In the intervening months of collecting and working through the files, audio clips, photos, and other state and federal records, I came upon many names of people connected to the investigation.

Klansmen who had participated in the crime or had knowledge of it.

FBI and MHSP agents who had investigated the case, divers who had recovered the remains of Dean Moore in October of 1964, along with the Jeep Motor and other heavy weights they were attached to.

Witnesses, informants, Buzz, and quite a lot of bullshit.

A flurry of excitement and action surrounded my finding of an original document at a Mississippi University archive that contained the confession by Charles Edwards on the day of his arrest in November 1964.

The document, strangely an original, had been sitting untouched for so long that the paperclip had rusted and fused into the sheets.

It was an affidavit signed in blue pen by an arresting officer named Gwynne Cole of the Mississippi Highway Safety Patrol.

And I discover Gwynne Cole was still alive.

If Cole could remember Edward's confession, he'd be an excellent witness for any grand jury proceeding.

Lampton agreed, and on another trip south, he, Thomas, two officers from MHSP, and I drove to Gwynne Cole's house to meet with him, all of us packed into a tiny car.

The MHSP officer in the passenger seat who does most of the talking is named Alan Applewhite.

The second officer, the driver, is named Dewey Weems.

Quiet and wary of me and my camera, Weems was just beginning his career in the early 60s and was involved involved with the Dean Moore case.

The first occasion was when Charles Moore was still alive.

Weems was tasked by Governor Paul Johnson to investigate and ultimately quell the student protest at Alcorn College on April 20th and 21st, 1964.

Weems actually took the photos I have of the protest that show the Alcorn students standing on bleachers of the football field with their backs turned defiantly to the camera.

I'd like to know more about that situation because essentially, Charles Moore became available for the clan to pick up in Meadville because he was suspended from Alcorn shortly after Weems took the pictures.

But Weems, who has since died, wouldn't agree to a formal interview.

Weems, along with Gwen Cole, arrested Charles Marcus Edwards.

We've just pulled up outside Gwyn Cole's house.

We can get out, we can't.

We can get out, I mean, just don't

ride crap on that just 60 million.

I'm not going to ambush somebody.

I mean, I've noted it enough.

Don't forget about it.

Lambton thinks Cole will talk more openly without my physical presence in the room, so on the spot, I agree to remain outside while Thomas goes in with the others to record the conversation.

Lambton takes a color copy of the affidavit I found with Gwynne Cole's signature.

Thomas Moore.

How you doing?

I don't remember you.

This is Thomas Moore.

This is Charles Edward Moore's brother.

Come on around, sit down.

Just tell us

what happened.

So he can hear that from you.

Just

with the arrest and why you signed the...

affidavit.

Just tell us what you signed up.

You know what I'm saying down there in Meadow.

Justice of the peace.

I think we woke him up, if I'm not badly mistaken, and

he signed that warrant for us to correct him.

In the early morning hours of November 6, 1964, a Justice of the Peace in Meadville issued arrest warrants for James Ford Seal and Charles Marcus Edwards, charging them with the murder of Henry D.

and Charles Moore.

So y'all, you got the arrest warrant?

Yeah.

Okay, what happened after that?

We picked him up.

And who is we?

Do you remember who was there?

Well, me and

Bill Dukes, the FBI agent, and

the rest of them, I don't remember who was there.

To tell you the truth.

I'm telling the truth, because I don't know.

Not a stellar start, but Gwynne Cole's in poor health and his memory is filled with many investigations.

In fact, Cole was one of the lead investigators on the Mississippi Burning case.

According to Cole's signed affidavit, Charles Marcus Edwards was arrested at 5.25 a.m., November 6, 1964, at his new residence in Bunkley.

Edwards moved from his previous home in the Kirby community the day after Dean Moore went missing.

Gwynne Cole knocked at the front door and Edwards answered, leaving the screen door locked.

Cole identified himself and the other officers and told Edwards he wanted to talk with him.

Edwards asked Cole if he had a warrant, and Cole replied that he did, a warrant charging him with murder.

Edwards was informed of his rights, and the officers left with him in custody at 5.29 a.m.

en route to Jackson, Mississippi.

I rode in the back seat.

of a car of FBI agent.

Me and Bill Dukes, and we had Edwards in the back seat with with us.

Okay.

Did he say anything going to Jackson?

Not a word.

Initially, Edwards denied having any knowledge of the disappearance of Henry D.

and Charles Moore.

Quote, Edwards was visibly nervous and stated several times during the course of the interview that his main concern was for his family, particularly his wife and children.

At 9.07 a.m., after nearly two hours of questioning, Edwards changed his story.

He claimed that he'd been forced to move from his old neighborhood several months before because his wife was afraid of who she referred to as Negroes who parked in front of their home at night.

Edwards stated that Dee was one of these men and that his wife had complained that she had seen Dee on one occasion peeping at her.

It is true that Dee lived near Edwards in the Kirby community, but it would be shown later that the peeping story was Edwards' attempt to misdirect the officers.

Edwards then stated that it was because of this that he had gone with James Ford Seal and others to pick up Henry Dee in Meadville.

He didn't know the identity of the other Negro with Dee at the time, he said.

Edwards stated that their intention was to whip Dee and Moore, which they did in the nearby woods.

Edwards stated that he did not know what happened to them after that, but the two were still alive when he left.

He declined to identify the others who were present.

Edwards advised he had nothing to do with any murders, stated he would not testify and would not give a signed statement.

But even without a signed statement, Edwards had just confessed to officers that he'd been involved with kidnapping and assaulting Dean Moore.

But did Cole remember it?

That's all I know about it.

Were you present with the

come out?

Bill told me that

the boy had made a statement.

I said, yeah, what did he tell you?

He told me to him and there was seals.

Picked him up on that, picked him up on the highway.

Took him up there in the woods and whipped him.

That's what he said, Edwards.

That's what he said.

Edwards told me.

You weren't present during the interview, no.

This was going to be a problem.

While Gwynne Cole had taken part in the arrest arrest of Edwards and accompanied him to Jackson, he had not, according to his recollection, heard the confession from Charles Edwards directly.

Let me ask you this.

Have you signed the affidavit?

Yeah.

Why did you sign it?

Bill, this sheriff did in front of me and said sign it.

I just want to know, is that your signature?

That's my signature.

Yes, sir.

That is my signature.

Had you ever talked to anyone that told you they knew who killed Moore and Deeves?

Did you ever talk to anyone that told you, I know what happened?

No.

Did you know Gilbert?

Ernest Gilbert.

Ernest Gilbert.

He was the FBI informant.

Did you know him at all?

No.

Had you ever been told

by the FBI where they got that information?

No.

Who else other than Dukes might have been in that meeting, in that interrogation?

The FBI agent, but I can't call his name.

He was from Texas.

Okay.

He was with us.

This would have been FBI agent Curtis Perryman, but both Dukes and Perryman were dead.

It's clear that Gwynne Cole isn't going to be our star witness after all.

Why wasn't Cole in the room with Edwards and the two FBI agents when Edwards gave his confession is one question I might have asked.

Thomas is nearly speechless.

Well

he's claiming that

he wasn't there, but he stayed as his signature.

Oh, man.

Baby, you see, I can't

go to court and put Gwen Cole on the stand and ask him what happened.

I mean,

it's over.

I mean, once he says I never heard the statement, it's over.

And you've got to...

Gwen Cole didn't witness Edwards' confession, and that makes me wonder what District Attorney Lennox Foreman knew at the time, because Cole was one of the main people who was supposed to have told Foreman the information about the case.

Foreman didn't move forward on anything, despite what appears on paper at least to be ample evidence.

The FBI sometimes did not share information with local authorities for fear they were in the Klan.

Absolutely.

With so many people involved dead, it's impossible to know for sure what happened.

They had the information to prosecute, but they didn't because they would have lost their informants.

That's right.

I mean, the state didn't.

But Alan Applewhite offers what sounds like at least an arguable theory for why the case never went forward in 1964.

More important than my brother and everything.

That's right.

Why?

Why?

Because

they were looking at the big picture.

Once Dee and Moore were discovered, the FBI began an investigation into their case.

Then, Klansman Ernest Gilbert, the man FBI called JN30, came forward with information about the murders.

The FBI saw this as an opportunity to use the D.

Moore case as a vehicle to develop more informants for other cases.

So the FBI didn't want to give Gilbert up, nor did they want his fellow Klansmen to find out he was informing and kill him.

And when it came to sharing information about cases with local authorities like Gwynne Cole or even Lennox Foreman, the FBI may not have been as forthcoming as they needed to be.

All combined to keep the Dean Moore case from moving forward.

Nice to meet you, sir.

Yes, sir.

Nice to meet you.

Keep in touch.

We say goodbye to the two Mississippi Highway Patrolmen and try to figure out our next moves.

Hi, I'll thank you.

So we still have reason reason for hope, Don, you think, in this case?

Always reason, okay?

Always reason to hope.

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And I haven't heard from them, so I'm getting worried.

It was about a beloved surgeon, one of just two in town, named Eric Garcia.

When police officers arrived to check on the doctor, they found him dead on a couch.

Is it a suicide?

Is it a murder?

What is it?

From ABC Audio and 2020, Cold-Blooded Mystery in Alaska is out now.

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While working this case, we had to look for ways to conjure a lot of hope.

And Thomas often tried to do this by bringing the Dean Moore story to the local community.

Public opinion hurts.

You know, it's okay if you isolate yourself.

However, if the community isolate themselves from these two individuals,

then it's going to hurt.

On one such occasion, we visited the Roxy Baptist Church, the very church whose name was shouted out by either Dee or Moore during their torture as a possible hiding place for guns.

The Reverend Clyde Briggs's old congregation.

Thomas wanted some local help for something he had in mind for James Ford Seal.

Well, David, this is one of the most important things that we're about to do.

This is a big day.

They're gonna saw a singer pretty soon.

A portrait of the late Reverend Clyde Briggs hangs up high, centered behind the pulpit.

The church was full of its regular attendees dressed in their Sunday best, along with a few who Thomas had invited and some press from Jackson and Natchez.

After some rousing gospel, Thomas stood at the front.

Beside him, a sign on a pole that we'd made in Jackson.

There, written in black and red text on white plastic, Charles Eddie Moore and Henry Hezekiah D.

Rest in peace and justice, With the word justice underlined in red.

First of all, it's an honor for me to be here.

My name is Thomas Moore, the son of Mazer Moore from Franklin County, Meadville, Mississippi.

My brother was Charles Eddie Moore as a terrible thing happened 41 years ago.

Do I have a right to be here?

I have a right to be here

because I am going to hold Franklin County,

the state of Mississippi,

accountable for the death of Charles Edward Moore and Henry David.

I cannot fight this battle by myself.

So I need you to demand from your local authorities

justice.

Because Franklin County would never get over this until this shout is removed.

If they can do it in Neshawa County,

You can do it here.

This is the time.

This is our time.

This is not time for violence.

Now, you want to ask me what I thought about done?

We don't want to talk about that in church.

I still think about what I could have done.

But I want to sit in the courthouse

and I want to watch them walk through.

If you read the Clarence Ledger two days ago, the head of artists told me about, is the Ku Klux Klan really dead?

They are trying to come back.

And we need to stay on top of this.

And I don't have no fear.

I don't have no fear.

Yea, though I walk through the valleys of the shadows of death,

I have no fear.

What is the difference?

They are fighting terrorists,

and we got two right here in Franklin County:

James Ford Seal,

Charles Marcus Edwards.

I am leaving here in just a few minutes,

and I am going to place this sign

not only as personal problem,

but on public ground.

Because I want everybody that passed by to know this guy lives here.

That we're watching you,

and it's just a matter of time.

If anybody wants to go with me, let's go.

I'm going out of here.

Thomas walks out the front door of the church, and several men and a few women follow.

He was.

The atmosphere in the church was electric.

The group makes their way to Highway 33 at the BP station.

Then, with Thomas carrying the sign, another carrying a ladder and another a large old-fashioned five-pound hammer, The group walks along the gravel shoulder toward the place where James Seal lives.

Come on up here, brother Rev.

Right there by that twice sign.

We're not gonna be on this property.

This is where we live.

Mac, we're gonna put it right there by that 55 miles out.

Oh, yeah.

I'm not going over in front of his house.

He ain't crazy enough to sh.

He ain't gonna do nothing, you know.

We know that.

He's a coward, dude.

What about right here?

The men hammer the sign at the top of the driveway, well within sight of Seals RV, and obvious to any passerby.

Hi there.

That's pretty good.

Heavenly Father, we come at this moment.

Give you all the praise.

Then the men stand in a circle next to the sign and stack their hands in the center, like spokes in a wheel.

Lord,

right this wrong, Heavenly Father.

Amen.

Okay, let's go.

Thomas would erect other signs around Franklin County to memorialize Charles and Henry.

The sign at Seale's house would be ripped down within the hour, but the message from the local community to Seal was clear.

With Gwynne Cole unable to give us an eyewitness account of Edward's confession, Thomas and I decided to focus on Seal's arrest.

According to my ever-growing stack of documents, Seale may have inadvertently given a partial confession himself.

The names on the FBI report detailing Seale's arrest were MHSP agents Nat Trout, deceased, and Ford O'Neill, also deceased.

FBI Special Agent Leonard Wolfe, who I'd heard had Alzheimer's and didn't even know who he was, and FBI agent Edward Putz.

Mississippi officials had told me that Putz was either senile or dead.

Here's District Attorney Ronnie Harper explaining the situation.

We know that Putz is not available.

We know that

these guys are either deceased or have no ability to recall what happened.

But after a quick brush through an online phone book, I found an Edward Putz living in Miami and gave him a call.

Hello.

Can I speak to Ed Putts, please?

This is he.

Oh, hi, Mr.

Putz.

My name is David, and I'm working on a story about a killing case that you may have worked on down in Mississippi down in 1964.

Right.

And

I think you know the case.

It's the D.

Moore case.

And I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about it because I think you can really help shed some light on that case.

Right.

Do you remember the case?

Sure.

You mean the two guys that they tied to a tree and whipped and then threw in the the Mississippi?

That's it.

Right.

That's it.

Far from being senile or dead at age 88, I found Special Agent Putz to be sharp and clear, and he didn't suffer fools.

Most importantly, after 40 years, he still remembered everything.

Now, I've been reading some documents here, and it says that you were involved in the arrest of James Ford Seale.

That's right.

Now, do you remember taking Mr.

Seale to Jackson?

Right.

And do you remember him admitting on the way there, well, it's a partial admission.

He said he did, but

we never prove it.

Right.

Something like that.

Did you see my FD 302?

There is an FT-302 here, and I just wanted to get your version of the story.

It's sort of...

Whatever's in the FD-302 is what he said.

Actually, I'll just read it to you here, if you don't mind.

It's a little paragraph here.

I guess Special Agent Wolf was someone that was with you, and and he said

yeah Lenny Wolfe out of Chicago.

He's dead.

Oh he's dead?

Oh that's unfortunate.

He says we know that on Saturday afternoon May 2nd 1964 you picked up in your car Henry Dee and Charles Moore two Negro boys from Roxy.

You and Charles Edwards and others took them to some remote place and beat them to death.

You then transported and disposed of their bodies by dropping them in the Mississippi River.

You didn't even give them a decent burial.

We know you did it.

You know you did it.

The Lord above knows you did it.

And then James Seal says,

yes, but I'm not going to admit it.

You're going to have to prove it.

And you remember that conversation?

Yes, I do.

Wow.

How did you get him to say that, though?

How?

Yeah.

I don't know.

You know,

I mean, maybe he was...

Hard to say.

Hard to say.

Do you think...

I mean, we didn't beat him or anything like that, you know?

Right.

Right, because there was that, wasn't there, there was that allegation, wasn't there, that Ford O'Neill had

beaten him.

And what do you know about that?

No, no, no.

James Ford Seale went to a Justice of the Peace in Franklin County and swore an affidavit that MHSP officer Ford O'Neill did willfully, unlawfully, and feloniously commit an assault and battery on him during Seale's November 64 arrest.

Nothing came of the charges, but District Attorney Lennox Foreman later stated that he believed the story of the beating that Seal put out in the community would have a detrimental effect on the case and used it as one of the reasons he wouldn't go forward with a grand jury.

You can never beat a guy because you, if you beat a guy, they tell you what you want to hear, and then you'd never know whether it's the truth or not.

Well, I thank you very much for talking to me today, sir.

I hope I hope we can talk again, and I may give you a call next week and just check up.

All right.

Thanks very much, sir.

Bye-bye.

In another conversation, Ed Putz let me know that he didn't want to sit down for a filmed interview, but he was willing to testify if it ever came to that.

Thomas called Lambton with the news about Putz.

Spell that last name for me.

He

and Paul UPZ and Zulu.

He's located in Florida.

Okay.

All right.

Well, what we will do is go down and interview him.

I want to think that he is somebody that Jim Ingram had on their list to go interview.

Apparently, beaten us to the punch, which is

fine.

And we'll just have to see in the context of everything how that fits in.

That still

may not give us what we need to be in federal court.

I remember the frustration building in Thomas and I around this time.

We felt that if we stopped pressing even for a moment, that the whole push for justice would come to a crashing halt.

Thomas felt that through the course of filming over 15 months, we were doing things that officials should be doing by now: looking through the documents, finding witnesses, looking for new evidence.

It was true that we'd had many promises, but nothing seemed to move forward unless we were on the ground and in people's faces.

Over the last year,

you know, it's

I'm frustrated that

I

bring them information and

they say, you know, well, are you beating me to the point?

Well, yeah, we are beating it to the point because we're punching.

My question is, are they punching?

Thomas decided that it was time to confront his demons once and for all.

He would attempt to speak to Charles Edwards face to face one more time.

Only by meeting his fear fear head-on, Thomas felt, would he be able to find some peace.

Also, being the victim's brother, Thomas's gut instincts had always told him that only he could get the conspirators in his brother's case to start talking.

But how to arrange a face-to-face meet and where?

We'd spent a lot of time, especially in the beginning of our investigation, speaking to people about Edwards and Seal.

A couple of guys, one guy's named Charles Marcus Edwards.

You ever heard of that guy?

Yeah, uh-huh.

You know that guy?

Well, he lives in

Bunkley from where I'm from.

That's my daddy's uncle.

Oh, really?

Yeah.

See him a lot, man.

We hunt together, deer hunt, and all that.

But, you know, we don't ever talk about nothing like this.

What's he like?

What's he like?

Yeah.

He's a church-going man.

He

helps you do anything you ask him to do.

Drows a garden every year.

Just a country fella, you know?

Real good guy.

Is he a good hunter?

Oh, yeah.

Deacon kills a deer.

So aside from being a decent hunter, Edwards was also a good gardener and a church-going man.

Have you heard of this case, though?

I know that the one of the men that supposedly had something to do with it is a deacon in our church.

He's the deacon in your church?

Would this be Mr.

Edwards?

Is it Charles Marcus Edwards?

Right.

Okay, I guess he's still alive then, obviously.

He's the deacon in your church.

Yeah, he's still very much alive.

Yeah.

What church is that?

Is that a bat?

Obviously, it's a Baptist church?

Bunkley.

Bunkley Baptist.

That's about 50 miles from here.

Right.

And is he there every Sunday?

Every Sunday.

Yeah.

It has been for years.

Years and years and years.

The deacon of a church, the Bunkley Baptist Church.

This could be an opportunity.

Well, let me ask you this.

If...

Believe me, my mind ain't made up.

I'm just torn in between this thing here.

Thomas and I had discussed a plan for confronting Edwards, but first he wanted to run it by Dunlampton.

If I decided to go down to the church and see him, he may get mad and walk away from me.

But with that, in fact, when you find out that I went down and talked to him, is that going to have any interference with what you're going to do?

As Deacon Edwards would likely be one of the first to arrive on any given Sunday, Thomas wanted to try for for a showdown here.

If Edwards was a religious man, perhaps the church would make him think twice about telling a lie.

I mean, I want to do the right thing.

All right, sir.

Well, thanks for talking with me there.

And

we'll talk shortly.

Thank you, sir.

So I'm clear with my decision.

Let's go knock this shit out.

Because, you know, I was concerned that,

and matter of fact, he said, he said, if you decide to go, I'm still gonna do what I gotta do.

And that's what kind of clear my mind.

You see what I'm saying?

So, fuck it, let's let's get a goddamn betting practice and get grand slam to somebody.

I mean, like you said, you know, I would hate for you to leave here, and we didn't try.

Now, we go down there, and he ain't there, we get the fuck on out of bunker.

But if he there,

here I am, man, run, but you can't fucking hide.

Tell me what you're gonna do and tell me what you're doing.

Well,

I'm gonna prepare an envelope

to pass them Charles Marcus Edwards

today if he come to church.

What I have here is a...

A few pages from the Federal Bureau of Investigation Report.

In this report, it has the name of Charles Marcus Edwards, James Seal,

and

allegedly that they picked up Charles Moore and Henry Dee.

I've carefully blackened out some information that I didn't want him to know about right at this time.

And I want to ask him, Charles Edwards,

why do he have a bad case of conscience?

Why is his name in this document?

I'm sure he haven't seen this.

My intent is to give this to

Charles Marcus Edwards, that he may have some bedtime reading stuff,

just in case he has nothing else to do.

Thomas writes a name on the cover of the envelope in black marker.

Mr.

Charles Marcus Edwards.

And then seals it.

Happy dream.

All right.

Test one, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

We should be getting pretty close.

The church is a simple red brick building with a whitewashed wooden steeple.

A sign with letters falling off out front reads, Unkey Baptet Herch, Bunkley Baptist Church.

On a pole next to the sign hangs a small church bell.

Anybody who rang it would soon find out that there were dozens of red wasps building a nest inside.

I think the best thing is to just keep going back and forth in the front of his plane because then we're then we're on the road and going and it's.

Okay.

After more than an hour of luckless drive-bys, around 9:35 a.m., Thomas was ready to throw in the towel.

And then.

There's the car.

Is that his car?

Yep, that's his car.

Want to do it now?

Yeah.

Ready?

Go.

Charles Marcus Edwards had parked his Chevy Impala in front of the church and was following his wife toward the front door.

I pull the van into the lane, grab a small camera, and Thomas and I get out.

In my hurry, I leave the van running and you can hear it in the background.

Mr.

Edwards,

how you doing, sir?

I got something for you, sir.

What is it?

There's something that I think you you want to read.

You take it on the back.

No, no, no, sir.

Take it on back, please.

No, sir.

I want you to read it because...

Well, I want to ask you why your name is in no FBI report, sir.

I'm not on no FBI report.

That's what you have in your hand, sir.

I'm not.

All I want to do is talk to you.

What's your name, sir?

My name is Moore.

Thomas James Moore.

I'm going to tell you, sir.

I did not kill you, brother.

I didn't have anything to do with it.

Well, sir, all I want to ask you, why is your name and James Ford Seal in the document?

Well the FBI, the SOI dropped all this case, and you know that.

Well I know that I know from the FBI file sir that he'll know they dropped your case because it wasn't any evidence and I didn't have anything.

I've never been on that mission river in my life.

Sir, did you have anything?

Did you have anything to do with picking those boys up though, sir?

Down the city?

The boy said that you and Jane Forteal picked them up.

It did not say you killed them.

Edwards pauses, looks at his feet, then starts to move toward the church, pulling his wife along with him.

His silence speaks.

Did you have anything to do with that, sir, picking those boys up?

I hadn't got any.

I hadn't got anything.

Y'all get off this church now and quit stirring up the building on the church.

Edwards finally reaches the door of the church, clearly preoccupied, starts fumbling with his keys to open the white doors.

Mr.

Edwards, why did you move the day after those boys were killed?

Finally, Edwards gets the door door open, and he and his wife are gone.

Time to go.

Yeah.

How do you feel now?

I feel great.

I feel great.

I feel great.

I mean, I did what I had to do.

Stay got wasn't a success.

I got down.

42 years I took me to see that son of this to his face.

He showed the nervousness.

He talking about he'd never been on that Mississippi River.

And nobody say he'd been on the Mississippi River.

I asked him the question.

I can't think of anything else I need to ask him.

Right?

He made me ask him the question.

All I want to know is why your name is in the FBI documents.

If he was nervous last year, he fucked up now.

Get him on the stand.

He will not lie.

That guy will say he picked him up on the stand.

You got to call Dunlampton and tell him.

Because

the way he didn't answer when I asked if he picked those boys up, he will talk, he will speak the truth in the court.

If he's forced to, he will.

You have been listening to episode four

Bunkley.

Visit cbc.ca/slash sks to see video of the encounters with Charles Marcus Edwards and James Ford Seal.

And subscribe to SKS on your favorite podcast app.

Someone Knows Something is hosted, written, and produced by David Ridgen.

The series is also produced by Chris Oak, Steph Kampf, Amal Dudlich, Eunice Kim, and executive producer, Arif Nurani, and mixed by Cecil Fernandez.

Our theme song is Terrorized by Willie King.

Now you talk about terror.

I think you talk about terror.

People have been terrorized

all my days.

So, what is his name?

Do you think that that was a

slam dunk?

Slam dunk home run

star traveler rocket ship.

For more CBC podcasts, go to cbc.ca/slash podcasts.