might give us some perspective on the coercion that was leveled against Myers. We now knew
that because Myers had recanted his accusations against Walter before the trial, the State
might not be entirely surprised to hear that he was denying McMillian’s involvement in the
crime. We needed as much objective evidence as we could find to confirm the truth of what
Myers was now saying. Understanding the Pittman case and documenting the other
demonstrably false things Myers had asserted would strengthen our evidence.
Vickie Pittman’s murder had been all but forgotten. Monroe County officials had reduced
Myers’s and Kelly’s sentences in exchange for Myers’s testimony against Walter. How they
managed to reduce sentences in the Pittman case, which was outside their jurisdiction in
another county, was another anomaly. Myers insisted that there were other people besides
him and Kelly involved in the Pittman murder, including a corrupt local sheriff. There were
still questions about why Vickie Pittman had been killed. Myers told us that her murder had
everything to do with drug debts and threats she had made to expose corruption.
We had learned from some of the early police reports that the father of Vickie Pittman, Vic
Pittman, had been implicated as a suspect in her death. Vickie Pittman had had two aunts,
Mozelle and Onzelle, who had been collecting information and desperately seeking answers
to the questions surrounding their niece’s death. We reached out to them on the off chance
that they’d be willing to speak with us, and we were astounded when they eagerly agreed to
talk.
Mozelle and Onzelle were twin sisters—they were also colorful, opinionated talkers who
could be bracingly direct. The two middle-aged, rural white women spent so much time
together that they could finish each other’s sentences without even seeming to notice. They
described themselves as “country tough” and presented themselves as fearless, relentless
women who could not be intimidated.
“Just so you know: We’re gun owners, so don’t bring no drama when you come.” This was
Mozelle’s last warning before I hung up the phone with her the first time we talked.
Michael and I traveled to rural Escambia County and were greeted by the twins. They
invited us in, sat us at the kitchen table, and wasted no time.
“Did your client kill our baby?” Mozelle asked bluntly.
“No, ma’am, I sincerely believe he did not.”
“Do you know who did?”
I sighed. “Well, not completely. We’ve spoken to Ralph Myers and believe that he and
Karen Kelly were involved, but Myers insists that there were others involved as well.”
Mozelle looked at Onzelle and leaned back.
“We know there’s more involved,” said Onzelle. The sisters voiced suspicions about their
brother and about local law enforcement but complained that the prosecutor had disrespected
and ignored them. (Vic Pittman was never formally charged for the murder.) They said they
were turned away even by the state’s victims’ rights group.
“They treated us like we were low-class white trash. They could not have cared less about
us.” Mozelle looked furious as she spoke. “I thought they treated victims better. I thought we
had some say.”
Although crime victims had long complained about their treatment in the criminal justice
system, by the 1980 s a new movement had emerged that resulted in much more