Crime
Unhappy Trails
When two Houston detectives began investigating unsolved murders full-time, they hoped DNA testing would make it easy. They were dead wrong.
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Incomplete crime-scene photos mark the beginning of a case that may end up taking the detectives months to solve, if they ever do. Leads will vaporize. Witnesses will lie. And in some instances, the original detectives offer little assistance, resentful that their investigative skills have been deemed inadequate. When they took on the job of solving these murders, Fikaris and Wedgeworth figured they’d have an edge by retesting forensic evidence for DNA. For six months they charted four cases on a white board, hoping to match old crime-scene DNA with that of the suspects. They sent old blood and tissue samples to a lab in Dallas for retesting, at about $6,800 a case, and waited patiently for results. Each time, they were disappointed. Nearly all of the evidence was degraded, resulting in only partial DNA strands, which were useless.
“It’s the most frustrating job I’ve ever had,” says Wedgeworth. “Neither one of us thought it’d be anything like this. We didn’t think we were going to come in and solve every crime, but we thought we’d be able to come in, do some review, get some cases, and with DNA, take it on down the road.”
Instead, they’ve been solving murders the old-fashioned way. First, a case is pulled from the filing cabinets, one they both agree is worth revisiting. Then they review the material and break it down into categories, including evidence lists, patrol reports, statements, and witnesses. Not every homicide makes the cut, just the ones they think have enough evidence and witnesses to the crime. All of the facts are put into a fat black three-ring binder, including a complete time line of the case, how it was worked, and by whom. They look for holes in the original investigation, and in addition to following up on new information, they must reinterview all of the old witnesses. If, that is, they can find them.
“You can imagine how people move around over a ten-year period,” says Wedgeworth, “and I gotta be honest with you, some of these witnesses are not princes of the city. And if you can’t find a lot of them, you end up wasting weeks.”
They investigate one murder at a time, yet the ones they haven’t been able to solve continue to haunt them. One such case is that of Tracy Jo Shine, who was killed in 1987. Fikaris and Wedgeworth believe that her killer strangled her and stuffed her body into a refrigerator. Shine’s corpse was later cut into pieces and dumped into a barrel of acid. They wanted to run DNA tests, but there wasn’t enough of a tissue sample in the refrigerator for a full strand of DNA. For months they carefully took the refrigerator apart, piece by piece, hoping for better test results. They say they know who did it—Michael Neal, who is now serving a life sentence in the Eastham Unit in Lovelady for aggravated assault—but he won’t “do the right thing,” says Wedgeworth. “Neal is a piece of human garbage,” he says, shaking his head. At one point, Neal’s brother, Robert, who is also serving time, promised that he’d help, but when he was brought to the Harris County jail, he refused to talk. After working the case for ten months, Fikaris and Wedgeworth have just about given up. They’ve sent one last piece of the refrigerator—the wiring harness—to the lab and are waiting for the results.
Wedgeworth takes a highlighter and reviews the checklist for the Homer and JoAnna King case as Fikaris separates the photographs. “I don’t see an autopsy report,” says Wedgeworth. Fikaris picks up the phone and orders one.
“We always try to get in our minds what happened,” says Fikaris. “Homer and JoAnna were marched in here, I guarantee you.”
“As far as physical evidence, we’ve got fingerprints and a strand of hair. We’ve got the bullets, but the gun was never recovered,” says Wedgeworth, reading the evidence list aloud.
“Now, there’s something wrong here,” says Fikaris. “This is my problem. Our suspect says that he shot them because Homer came after him with a hammer, but there’s no blood. I’ve looked at these twice this morning.”
In this case they are trying to track down five witnesses to the murder, including a woman and her daughter, who was six at the time. Although some gave statements in 1987, they all need to be reinterviewed before charges can be filed. Two still live in the Houston area, and today Fikaris and Wedgeworth decide to pay them a visit.
At 11:45 we hop into Fikaris’ blue Chevy Lumina and drive to northwest Harris County, where one of the witnesses lives. More than an hour later, we’re still driving. Somewhere near Waller, where there are no road signs and few signs of life, Wedgeworth asks, “Where are we, Harry?”
“I have no idea,” he replies.
Finally, Fikaris and Wedgeworth find the right road, but they can’t locate the address. It turns out to be a wasted trip. Half an hour later, after a stop at a convenience store for lunch—Snickers and a Coke—we pull into a seedy collection of trailer homes off of U.S. 290 scattered among crushed Bud Light cans, stray chickens, and clotheslines half-filled with children’s underwear and T-shirts. Fikaris and Wedgeworth spot a man near some rooster cages and approach him about his neighbor, who was a witness to the crime. It’s a brief visit. “He wasn’t real free with the information,” says Wedgeworth, getting back into the car. “More than likely, we’ll have to come back.” By now, it’s 2:30. No new leads, but neither seems discouraged. Dead ends are part of their business. “The glimmer of hope keeps us going,” says Fikaris.
And eventually they are rewarded for their work. The next month they track down the witness, find the person who sold the suspect the gun, and locate the woman’s daughter. She agrees to testify in court, and her mother, now less afraid of retaliation, gives a statement as well. Faced with the police work of Fikaris and Wedgeworth, the suspect finally confesses to the murder. In this instance, time turns out to be an ally.
As does their perseverance in the murder of Tracy Jo Shine. The test on the wiring harness shows human DNA, and Robert Neal finally agrees to give a statement, naming his brother as the killer. Nearly a year after they began the investigation, Michael Neal is indicted for Shine’s murder. The trial will be held later this year. “I’ve never worked so hard for an indictment in my life,” says Wedgeworth, the tone of his voice noticeably lighter. “The satisfaction is tenfold compared to working a regular homicide, because these are the hardest cases to work. But, sure, I miss the action—kicking in a door, dragging a crook out of the house. That can be a lot of fun. Nobody should get away with murder, but sometimes they do.”
Ellise Pierce wrote about actress Peri Gilpin in the October 1996 issue of Texas Monthly.
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