CRIME

Retired mayor, police commissioner tackle Daytona's 79 cold cases

Tony Holt
tony.holt@news-jrnl.com
Al McEvoy, left, a retired police commissioner from Yonkers, New York, and former Daytona Beach Mayor Larry Kelly are helping police by diving into 79 cold case files. [NEWS-JOURNAL/Jim Tiller]

DAYTONA BEACH — One knows every protocol of police work, the other knows every square mile of the city and its unique history. After all, he was once the mayor.

Together, they are taking a crack at 79 unsolved murder cases in Daytona Beach that stretch across 52 years.

Every Tuesday, for eight hours at a time, the retirees pore over records that are detailed in their brutality and morbidity — and yet the job has energized them.

The pursuit of truth keeps them motivated. Justice for the victims imbues them with a sense of moral duty.

Albert "Al" McEvoy, 75, served as the police commissioner of Yonkers, New York, in the mid-1990s and his law enforcement career spanned 36 years. He retired in 2000 and owned a private investigation company while enjoying the snowbird lifestyle. When he retired from his second career, he decided to live full-time in Daytona Beach.

Larry Kelly, 82, a native of Carbondale, Pennsylvania, moved to Daytona Beach in 1963 while an employee of General Electric and four years later embarked on a concurrent career as a civil servant. He was on the planning board for four years before being elected city commissioner in 1971. He was elected mayor in 1974 and served until 1993.

Both men are U.S. Air Force veterans.

McEvoy worked all kinds of calls — from blackouts to homicides to sex crimes.

Kelly was mayor when the lion's share of the cold case crimes were committed.

"It makes my retirement career very, very interesting and very challenging," Kelly said, "because you really want to win one."

McEvoy can talk endlessly about police work. While attaining his advanced degree, he wrote a thesis on Yonkers' most notorious former resident, serial killer David Berkowitz, commonly known as "Son of Sam." He didn't work that case while a police officer, but he could almost be an authority on it. He still remembers all the details he uncovered while doing the exhaustive research. His memory remains sharp, an invaluable skill for an investigator.

Kelly has the same gift. He remembers where all the seedy neighborhoods were while he was mayor. He probably hasn't asked for directions a single time since the 1960s.

McEvoy is tall, slender and still carries himself like he did when he wore his dress blues. He moves his hands a lot when he speaks and while he can talk incessantly about whatever is on his mind he's quiet, casual and conversational.

Kelly is shorter, stockier. He is more calculated and succinct with his words, but his voice still booms like it did a generation ago when he was sitting on a dais addressing a packed room of constituents.

As collaborators, McEvoy and Kelly have moved a number of cases closer to the finish line. They're still waiting on their first big score, then the next. That's the life of an investigator. It's a life that McEvoy easily moved back into when he accepted an invitation 10 years ago from then-Chief Mike Chitwood.

The big one: 'DSK'

When McEvoy was asked to help out at the police department, he thought he was going to be some kind of volunteer training officer. Chitwood told him he wanted him working on a homicide case — and not just any homicide case. He wanted him to look at the Daytona Serial Killer case, the largest cold case that still looms over the agency.

"They wanted to bring people in and look at it with a fresh set of eyes," McEvoy said of the case, which he referred to as "DSK."

Three prostitutes — Laquetta Gunther, 45, Julie Green, 34, and Iwana Patton, 35 — were slain in December 2005 and January and February 2006, respectively. A fourth woman, Stacey Gage, 30, was killed in January 2008 and for years she was thought to have been murdered by the same killer, but investigators have second-guessed that theory.

McEvoy said there is a certainty that Gunther, Green and Patton were killed by the same assailant because the evidence supports it.

Bodily fluids were found on two women that had the same DNA. They also were killed by the same weapon — a .40-caliber Smith and Wesson handgun.

"One day, the break will come," said McEvoy.

Daytona's criminal history

McEvoy said most of the cases they handle are more than 25 years old. The investigative methods decades ago were different. Many of the older slayings also predate the advent of DNA technology. Nowadays crime scene investigators collected everything in the hopes of finding trace DNA, but initial crime scenes from generations ago weren't combed as carefully.

"You have to go back and visit the crime scene if it's still there," McEvoy said. "You have to go over in your head what happened. Then you go to old witnesses and re-interview them. You can't have a trial without a witness."

He called the process "tedious and time consuming" and that is why police departments often rely on volunteers to go over the years-old unsolved cases. It can be too much for a police agency to take someone off day-to-day crime-solving.

"Their case load is extremely demanding," McEvoy said. "They have to get those cases ready for trial and that takes time.

"The second part of that is when you have younger people, they're not as patient," he continued. "They don't want to wait a year for (an arrest). They have to keep moving."

Both of them noted how well the department is run with McEvoy highlighting strides in modernization. Kelly remembers when the operation was much smaller.

"It's come a long way from 900 Orange Ave.," Kelly said, referring to the old police station that was built in 1957 and vacated in 2009 for the Valor Boulevard headquarters.

Justice needs to be served

McEvoy never gives a second thought to whether murder victims are rich or poor or even whether they were law abiding or repeat criminals. Consequences for the latter don't include murder.

"These three girls, all of the ones found here, didn't deserve that," McEvoy said, referring to the serial killer victims. "Even though they were on the low side of life, they were still human beings with children.

"They have the right to the same justice as someone in the higher echelon of life," he said.

Kelly said McEvoy has served as both as a teacher and partner to him. The former mayor has had to learn a lot about investigative work, but one of the most important lessons was learned fast.

McEvoy told him from the outset that unless there is evidence, there is no certainty. Nothing is gained through speculation.

Getting close

On the day McEvoy and Kelly sat down with The News-Journal, they had to run out and interview someone for another case they were working on. They wouldn't disclose which one.

One case that gnaws at them in particular is the Dec. 23, 1988, murder of Julie Seay, who was declared missing after last being seen leaving her workplace in Ormond Beach.

Witnesses came forward to tell police they last saw the 24-year-old mother of two being followed as she was going down the street. Because there was no body discovered, there is no crime scene, McEvoy said. Her vehicle, however, was found in the 200 block of Magnolia Avenue.

A conclusion to that case, he said, is within reach.

One that has piqued Kelly's interest is the slaying of Wynn Walters, a well-known businessman in the community who was found dead in April 30, 1982, inside his condominium on Wilder Boulevard.

"During my political days, he was the pillar of the community," Kelly said. "I remember it distinctly."

Walters was 83 when he died, but he was known to date women who were significantly younger. He married his second wife when she was 17 and while he was in his late 70s. One witness also told police that Walters was in the company of a young woman when he came home shortly before his murder.

Mostly every unsolved case involves someone who knows something about it. That is always taken under consideration.

The same goes for the heartbreak. Every victim had a family or a loved one who cared about that person and wants to see justice.

That's another lesson Kelly learned fast from McEvoy.

"If we have that case, it deserves to be solved," he said.

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