The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

8 The Canadian Statesman, Bowmanville, Wednesday, November 9,1994 Section Two wrnvm: ' ■****<*" If W.C. had settled for Maxine and her pecan pie, he might have stayed in one piece. Max HAINES ; futwm < <* ' - V Crime Flashback W hen Maxine Walker's husband up and died of a heart attack, the [good hill folk of the Appalachian town of f Sylacauga, Alabama, were -mighty grieved. It wasn't ! right that a woman still in her prime would be left with two f young 'uns to bring up without a papa. At the wake, Maxine put on a spread featuring big slices of pecan pie accompanied by sweet iced tea. As luck would have it, her husband had taken out a small insurance policy on his life which would leave his widow with a few extra dollars to comfort her in her sorrow. Not to be overlooked overlooked was the snazzy white Ford pickup, which was an integral part of the late Mr. Walker's worldly goods. Despite landing on her feet, it was a lonely existence for Maxine, living in the house with only her two children for company. Under normal circumstances, circumstances, she would not have given a hound's tooth for the likes of W.C. Berry. Let's face it, the 42-year-old W.C. didn't have a lot to recommend recommend him. For starters, he had once spent a few years in prison for manslaughter, but that was of no concern to the locals. W.C. simply didn't do much but tool around the county in a beat-up old car, which more often than not wouldn't start. The best that could be said for him is that he could mow a mean lawn and straighten out a barn door if pressed. Most days he didn't tax his intellect with these pursuits, but preferred to spend his time hunting wild turkeys in the nearby woods. One fine day in 1988, shortly after Maxine's husband went to his great reward, W.C. called on Maxine to pay his respects. Ordinarily she would have accepted his condolences condolences through the screen door, but a girl gets lonesome. What the heck, thought the widow, as she invited W.C. inside for a slab of that pecan pie, which evidently was her specialty. In the following weeks, W.C. often visited Maxine. He did some mowing, repaired a broken window and, in general, general, did a whole lot of fixin' around the house. Well, folks, low can I put it? W.C. fixed more than the house. Before you could say Tuscaloosa, W.C. and Maxine were doing what comes naturally between the sheets. They were discreet. They waited until the children were asleep. Eventually, W.C. moved right in with Maxine. Sure enough, tongues wagged, but he convenience was worth it. Everyone was happy. W.C. had an attractive partner in bed and, what's more, he had the use of the Ford pickup whenever he wanted. As for Maxine, we all know why she was so pleased. This tranquil state of affairs could conceivably have gone on forever, if it hadn't been for a couple of things. There's only so much fixing that can be done around a house. In time, all the doors were oiled, the broken windows replaced and the lawn resembled a pool table. With nothing much to do, W.C. proceeded to do nothing. Time rests heavily on idle hands. To add spice to his life, W.C. wasn't above wandering by Mary McDaniel's house to do whatever he did with Mary. When Maxine heard of W.C.'s extracurricular activity activity she was madder than a hound dog with fleas. As if his philandering wasn't enough, that no good W.C. used the Ford pickup to call on Mary. Maxine took inventory. At 44 years of age, she still had many a good year ahead of her. She looked in the mirror and admired herself. No, siree, she wasn't on the shelf just yet. She didn't need W.C. any longer, but there was a problem -- how to get rid of the rascal. Maxine's problem sort of solved itself, in a way. Due to an unpleasant gynecological condition, Maxine found it advisable to consult a physician physician in nearby Birmingham. Her worst fears were realized. realized. She had contracted venereal disease from W.C. She ordered him out of her home. W.C. left, but didn't take, the rejection well. He began stalking his former lover. Maxine couldn't go anywhere anywhere without that annoying man trailing her. Sometimes he would park his non descript car outside her home and just glare. On occasion, he would hurl threats at Maxine and the kids. The situation situation became so intolerable that Maxine had one of her nephews, 22-year-old Charlie La whom, move in with her, Charlie loved his Auntie Max. To prove the point, he gave W.C. a thorough thrashing thrashing and for awhile they didn't see hide nor hair of the rejected rejected suitor, but it wasn't too long before W.C. resumed his old annoying ways. Maxine couldn't stand it, so she sat Charlie down and came right to the point. Would her sister's boy help her get rid of W.C. on a permanent basis? She even offered to pay. Would $50 be enough to cover the inconvenience? Charlie thought the $50 was more than generous. In fact, for another $50, his brother Mark would be a willing participant. participant. And so the plan was latched. Maxine called W.C. and arranged to pick him up. W.C. figured the gods had decided to shine upon him; obviously Maxine realized she couldn't live without him. Maxine drove Charlie and Mark into the woods near a well-known lover's lane. She mew she would have no trou- île enticing W.C. to the spot where they had made love in the good old days. The scheme worked like a charm up to the moment that W.C. heard voices emanating from the woods. While he wasn't the brightest guy in the world, he immediately smelled a rat, opened the truck door and ran for his life. Maxine shouted at her nephews nephews to hop on the back of the pickup. The chase was on. When she drew abreast of the unfortunate W.C., both Charlie, with his shotgun, and Mark, with his pistol, opened fire. In all, the brothers fired 16 times. Every shot found it's target. W.C. was literally blown apart. T he day after the murder, murder, April Fool's Day, 1988, was uneventful. But the following day, Wayne Martin, who was hunting hunting wild turkeys in the woods, stumbled across what was left of W.C. The amateur murder scheme wasn't difficult to figure figure out. It was common knowledge among the mountain mountain folk that W.C. had been Maxine's lover and that he had recently fallen out of favor. Likewise, everyone knev: that nephew Charlie had moved in as Auntie Max's protector. The local sheriff picked up Charlie and accused him of killing W.C. Poor Charlie didn't know what to say. But true to his Appalachian heritage, heritage, his first instinct was to protect his brother: "My brother didn't have nothin' to do with this. I did it for my Auntie Max." Maxine was questioned and the entire story spilled from her lips. It wasn't much of a trial except for the fact that Maxine felt she was justified in sending W.C. to that great turkey shoot in the sky. The Alabama jury took only 50 minutes to disagree. They found her guilty of murder and sentenced her to death in the electric chair. Since then, Maxine won an appeal on a technicality and is in the Talladega County Jail awaiting awaiting a new trial. At a separate trial, Charlie received the same verdict and sentence as his aunt. He currently resides on Death Row in Alabama. His brother Mark was found guilty of murder and sentenced sentenced to life imprisonment. Autographed copies of Max's new book, Multiple Murderers, are available through Canada Wide Features. Orders on VISA, MasterCard or American Express may be placed by calling (416) 947-2191, Monday - Friday, 9 a.m. - 5 p.m., or by mail at 333 King St. E., Toronto, M5A 3X5.