Back in January I posted an old notebook entry about a night out on the town with our old friend, Chris the Cop. Dinner and a movie at the mall and while we were on our way to eat we passed a guy Chris knew...professionally.
Nearing the restaurant, Chris spotted a guy going down the escalator he recognized. Drug dealer named McArthur Davis. Shortish, dumpy black guy with pale cheeks and what might have been a long curved scar. "Even drug dealers need a night on the town," I said, "Probably saw Shakespeare in Love." Chris doubted it, but did not doubt that Davis was armed. He was a little surprised McArthur didn't recognize him. Decided his beard threw Davis off. Back in the days when they had regular contact, Chris was in uniform. He was in the TOPS trailer and Davis visited there a lot. Not voluntarily.
A little while later I had to run out to the car which was down in the underground parking garage and I came across Davis again:
Bumped into McArthur and a few of his friends standing outside the sporting goods store, discussing items in the window they would like to own. They were taking up a lot of space in the hallway and I had to walk between them to get to the door. Couldn't help it. I felt nervous. Worried about doing something they might construe as a challenge. Damn TV. McArthur himself isn't too intimidating, ignoring the fact that he was packing heat. He had a friend, though, very tall, very broad across the shoulders, in a too small Army field jacket, Gulf War vintage with desert camouflage. Suspect it was hard for him to find one big enough it wouldn't split up the back when he put it on. They ignored me and everybody else. Just guys out having a good time. So they're carrying weapons? They can't relax and enjoy themselves?
A guy like McArthur Davis passes through my life as just a colorful character, a comic grotesque it's fun to write about. He passes through his own life and the lives of the people who have the misfortune to really know him as what he is, a dangerous thug.
Got an email from Chris today letting me know that over the weekend Davis had made the local paper. First:
Eugenia Capers worried when her 78-year-old mother didn't answer the phone Thursday morning.
She called Allean Davis five or six times. "I call her every day and night," Capers said. "I didn't think she went out."
Shortly after noon, Capers drove to her mother's Pioneer Homes apartment and unlocked the front door.
Inside, she found Davis facedown on the floor, she said. Capers shook her mother, but she didn't wake up. She wasn't breathing, Capers said.
Staggering backward, she saw the big knife lying next to her mother...
You've probably already figured out where McArthur enters into this. Here:
Syracuse police on Thursday arrested McArthur Davis, 44, who police describe as a homeless man and the victim's grandson. Davis was taken into custody at about 6:30 p.m. along 120 Wayne St.
Davis admitted killing his grandmother Allean Davis, of 1115 S. Townsend St. Davis had spent his Social Security check on cocaine and went to his grandmother's with the intention of robbing her for more money for cocaine, police said...
A witness, whose name was not in the court documents, told police Davis entered the victim's home between 1-2 a.m. Thursday. The witness heard arguing, then a woman screaming, then nothing else. Davis admitted to detectives that he went to his grandmother's home to steal money and kill her. He also said he strangled her until she was unconscious, went to the kitchen to get a knife and then stabbed her in the head and torso. He then took his grandmother's purse and car.
Yeah, Lance, a real colorful character.
Comments