Fatal Romance: A True Story of Obsession and Murder Page 5

  T was both handsome and well built. With neatly clipped, sandy brown hair and powder-blue eyes, he stood several inches taller than Jerry. By puberty, it was clear that he had inherited the same indistinguishably deep voice that had become his older brother’s trademark. And T was aware that his broad, muscular shoulders filled out the Sheffield High School football jersey better that his older brother ever could.

  T’s classmates at the gleaming white educational institution liked to joke that his voice was so low that his utterances entered the room before he did. His easy-going nature and football-player stature won him wild popularity with his peers, yet he seemed to be forever faced with the challenge of living up to his brother’s glowing reputation.

  While T belonged to the basketball team and the dramatics club, and served as Class Representative for one year, his own personal triumphs seemed to pale in comparison to Jerry’s.

  The shadow of expectation that seemed to engulf T did not extend to his baby sister Carolyn. Attractive, smart, and extremely well liked, she was counted among the most popular students at Sheffield High. She was voted homecoming queen of her senior class, and was considered by her peers to be the prettiest girl in the entire school. The slender, blonde-haired beauty went on to marry, right out of high school, a young man named Ron Phillips whose family owned a successful business in Nashville, Tennessee.

  Ron’s prominent employment and respectable salary afforded the couple an opulent home just outside of Sheffield, along the banks of the Tennessee River that continued to be the envy of the Akers family’s classmates at Sheffield High.

  Growing up, Jerry’s increasingly rigid personality and unbending views irritated his siblings. T and Chicken found their older brother inflexible and opinionated and noticed that he sometimes got himself into situations that seemed easily avoidable. While they loved him immensely, the two were also frightened by the way Jerry reacted to the increasingly scary and, in their opinions, unnecessary predicaments in which he often found himself.

  Their friends theorized that to compensate for his small stature, Jerry tended to take dangerous risks, often refusing to back down in confrontations with guys who were twice his size. Determined to fight his point, he exhibited a boldness that seemed unwise and daringly risky. T and Carolyn worried that their brother was trying to prove himself too much, like the time in his late teens when he embarked on an exercise regimen so rigorous that it seemed he was destined to kill himself.

  For Jerry, doing beyond-the-pale pushups and sit-ups and running countless miles every day were his answer to the teasing stares he routinely received—or imagined—from his peers.

  By the end of his senior year, Jerry counted the position of Head Cheerleader among his many accomplishments. His classmates considered him a born leader, and honored him with the “Best All-Round” award. He and fellow cheerleader Brenda Phillips were even voted the “cutest students” at Sheffield High. Jerry and the perky blonde, with her wavy hair and wide, toothy grin, were also elected “Senior Favorites” of the Class of 1960. For Jerry, these designations were yet more impressive titles to add to his lengthy list of credentials.

  The distinctions were all part of a banner send-off for the local teen who would join sixty of his classmates at Florence State Teachers College across the river as incoming freshmen. In later years, the school would be renamed the University of Northern Alabama.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In the fall of 1960, Jerry and his best friend Ray Walker began their freshman studies at Florence State Teachers College, a local, four-year college located across the O’Neal Bridge in neighboring Florence. Like many of his friends’ families, Jerry’s parents did not have the resources to buy their young son a car, but the lack of wheels was not a problem. Jerry, Ray, and three other guys from their high school class arranged to catch a ride with a fellow Sheffield High School pal who had his own transportation, agreeing to pay their friend one dollar a week each to drive them to and from the Florence campus.

  While being enrolled in the college was exciting for Jerry and Ray, they had already agreed that they would only stay at the campus for two years. Money was tight, and they appreciated the hardship that four years of tuition would heap on their parents. They were certain that if they saved the money they earned at their summer jobs, and took just a little help from their families, they could pull off their dream to transfer to the University of Alabama in their junior year, and to pledge the fraternity Sigma Chi together.

  Both men studied hard, with Jerry displaying his usual brilliance and ending his second year with almost perfect grades. He had earned an “A” in every subject, and was expecting to see a 4.0 average on his grade sheet. But the studious perfectionist had become enraged when he opened his report card to find a “B” in ROTC—the Reserved Officers’ Training Corps—that pulled down his otherwise perfect score. In his usual confrontational manner, Jerry stormed into the school’s ROTC classroom, creating a scene with his professor that nearly ended in a fistfight.

  But he was unable to sway the teacher to adjust the grade, and this was incomprehensible to Jerry. In his entire life, he had prided himself at being able to realize his goals—even adding the extra inches he longed for to his height. But now, for the first time, he was faced with the reality that he could do nothing to change his professor’s mind. His “B” would stand, and Jerry could barely tolerate not getting what he wanted. Nevertheless, he managed to control himself.

  In the fall of 1962, Jerry and Ray left their insular, small-town world and the equally small-time college they had commuted to for two years to transfer to the more prestigious University of Alabama.

  The sprawling campus was a three-hour car ride from Sheffield, in the city of Tuscaloosa, which had once been the state’s capital until President Thomas Jefferson ordained it changed to Birmingham.

  When Jerry arrived at the lovely landscaped campus, with its imperial, wide-trunk trees, and red-brick Jeffersonian-style architecture, the city had fewer than 70,000 residents and was considered to be the fifth largest in Alabama. Union troops during the Civil War had burned all but four of the University’s original fourteen buildings, leaving intact only the gracious President’s Mansion, the lovely Gorgas House, the Roundhouse, and the Observatory, all now prominent symbols of the campus. The history of the school inspired Jerry and Ray to aspire to something larger than their own provincial beginnings.

  But while he and Ray found that the students had access to a small strip of bars and eateries that lined the city streets, they quickly realized that much more exciting activities took place on the grassy campus.

  For Jerry and Ray, both twenty years old, the experience of living away from home, and far from the protective environments of their families and friends, was both illuminating and humbling. Now they were but two ordinary guys in a community of eight thousand students. Jerry didn’t share a dormitory room with Ray, and instead moved to a small apartment just off campus sometime before the second semester of his junior year.

  But the two young men did everything together, including rushing Sigma Chi, the fraternity they had chosen while they were still students at Sheffield High. Although Jerry had been offered an opportunity to rush Kappa Alpha, he stayed true to his pledge to his friend and opted for admission to the mutually agreed-upon fraternity. For Jerry, belonging to the popular brotherhood was very important, a sign of acceptance into the larger society. It was his hope that both he and Ray would be granted membership in the fraternity that has a chapter at almost every large public and private institution in the United States, as well as abroad.

  Members of Sigma Chi were surprised when Jerry didn’t heed their advice to enroll in classes that were easiest and would afford him the grades necessary to qualify for the fraternity. They informed Ray that they were worried that his pal had put himself at risk by signing up for too many difficult classes during the time that he was rushing the fraternity, itself a formidable task. They did not know Jerry’s track r
ecord, or that he was never one to take the easy road to success. He enjoyed presenting himself with challenges, and derived great satisfaction from coming out a winner at his own game.

  Ray knew that it would have been out of character for Jerry to reduce his course load and sign up for classes that he didn’t find challenging and formidable. He was not the least bit surprised by his friend’s choice to do it the hard way. Ray knew that Jerry would never sit on the sidelines and observe others as they participated in desirable activities, and that he would always be right there in the thick of the action, whether it was as cheerleader of his high school’s football team, or as a member of the student council.

  Ray also knew that his friend had a natural ability for learning, and was able to study in places that he and other students would find most awkward. While standing on line at a dinner buffet, he could not help but notice that while he and the other guys waiting were busy flirting with the coeds, Jerry was reading his school books, preparing for his upcoming tests.

  In spite of the doomsday warnings, both Jerry and Ray were granted entrance into the popular Greek-letter society.

  Founded in 1855, Sigma Chi is a Christian-based organization. Founded at Miami University by seven young men who broke off from Delta Kappa Epsilon and formed their own organization, the fraternity’s emblem is the white Cross, and membership is granted only to those who can meet its seven exacting criteria—the most important is being a man of good character. For Jerry, acceptance to the fraternity was yet another achievement to add to his growing list of overcoming-the-odds accomplishments.

  Members of Sigma Chi remember their frat brother as athletic and highly energetic. They say that Jerry was very involved in the numerous and demanding roles of the fraternity, as well as in other activities at the college. When he first arrived at the school, he immediately tried out for membership on the famed cheerleading squad, and his audition won him status as an alternate. But being a cheerleader-in-waiting was irritating to him. After all, he reasoned, he had already attained so many of his highest and most cherished goals, standing at the window looking in at the other kids eating candy was not acceptable.

  It did not take long before Lady Luck, his frequent companion, intervened. A vacancy on the twelve-person junior varsity squad—six men and six women—placed Jerry at the center of the action, donning the school’s red-and-white uniform at all of his alma mater’s games. The fact that the squad had to attend practice sessions five days a week and participate in all of the mandatory overtime workouts the coach demanded was not at all daunting to Jerry, who appreciated the importance of his position perhaps more than the other members of the cheerleading unit.

  The school’s weekend football matches were considered the most popular events at the Southern campus. Beginning in the late 1920s, the University of Alabama was most recognized for its winning football team, The Crimson Tide, and revered for its legendary coach, Paul “Bear” Bryant, as well as its famed “Million Dollar Band.”

  To locals, as well as to national media sports fans, “Bama” football games were never-to-be-missed events. Jerry took great pride as one of the school’s most dazzling cheerleaders, chanting victory songs on the sidelines and showcasing contortionistic gymnastic feats during half-time activities. To the sounds of the Million Dollar Band, he and the other cheerleaders showcased their agility and talents, and then took to the bench to watch Colonel Carleton K. Butler direct the marching formations, which included not only the score of the game, but also the exact time on the clock, and the temperature outside.

  In his senior year, Jerry rented an apartment off campus with his pal Ray. The accommodations they could afford were sparse and humble, but the two young men congratulated themselves for arriving at senior status. They spent a lot of their senior year enjoying frat parties at the Sigma Chi house on Friday and Saturday nights, and never missed an opportunity to take part in the other parties and social events on campus, though they rarely visited the handful of pubs and bars in downtown Tuscaloosa.

  It was during the early part of their senior year that Ray finally witnessed his best friend in a serious relationship. Jerry had become infatuated with—actually in love with—a pretty young woman from Florence. But the romance fizzled shortly after Jerry began his first semester at law school, and he confided in Ray that their breakup had left him heartbroken and distraught. Ray was left to wonder if Jerry would ever be able to love another woman in the same way again.

  During the years that Jerry and Ray attended the University of Alabama, the United States was undergoing cataclysmic changes, not only in the Southern states, but throughout the country. Men like Jerry and Ray were part of a vast network of good-ole Southern boys, raised for generations with deeply held and passionate beliefs that black people were intrinsically inferior to white people. Jerry stood with his mouth agape, furious and uncomprehending, as the first black students were enrolled at “his” college. He didn’t exactly know what to make of the sea change in society, and he didn’t really like it.

  In fact, Jerry’s graduation preceded, by just one year, that of Vivian Malone the first black student to earn a diploma at his state-funded university. Having grown up in a segregated city, both Jerry and Ray had limited exposure to black people, and Ray noticed that his friend seemed to harbor a particularly malevolent attitude toward the presence of blacks on the campus, although he tried to camouflage his feelings to accommodate prevailing sentiments.

  As the second semester of their senior year neared, Jerry learned that his best friend would not be returning to the tiny apartment they had rented together in downtown Tuscaloosa. Ray had enlisted in the Marine Corps, and was going off to Officer Candidate School right after the Christmas holiday. Jerry knew that Ray’s father had served in the Corps and, with the conflict in Vietnam quietly escalating, he listened as his friend explained that serving his country was something he felt he had to do.

  Jerry respected Ray’s decision, and even considered it noble. As he accompanied Ray to the curb of his house on Nineteenth Street to bid him farewell, Jerry momentarily contemplated the idea of enlisting along with him. Jerry’s dad, a stern and austere man, had also been a Marine, and had proudly served his country during World War II.

  Ray had never had much contact with Jerry’s father, William Akers, over the years. He had been to the Akers home countless times over the course of his ten-year friendship with Jerry, and had spent hours with Jerry’s mom, Gladys, both in church and as a Boy Scout under her direction. But his contact with Jerry’s dad had been limited to a nod and a handshake upon entering and leaving the family’s cozy brick house. So he was surprised when the senior Akers came running out of the house after him as he was getting ready to climb into his car. The gangly young man remained silent as Jerry’s father placed his hand on his shoulder and said, “Remember son, a dead Marine is soon a forgotten hero.”

  The three men awkwardly saluted a goodbye. It would not be until two years later that Ray and Jerry would embrace in a chance encounter in the jungles of Vietnam.

  * * *

  In May of 1964, Jerry graduated from the University of Alabama with a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science and a letter of acceptance to the University of Virginia, School of Law. From the moment he arrived at the prestigious law school in September, Jerry moved to redefine himself. The young man, who had gone through the last twenty-one years of his life as Jerry Ray, would register simply as Jeremy Akers, dropping the Southern-sounding double name of his childhood. He successfully completed his first year of studies at the highly regarded law school. While he maintained excellent grades and seemed able to put his failed relationship with the young woman from Florence behind him, he did not return to Charlottesville in the fall.

  With the war escalating in Vietnam, and his friend Ray now stationed in Southeast Asia, he felt it his duty to serve his country. He had been raised in a family where patriotism and loyalty were exalted above all else. His father had served in the Marine
Corps in World War II and saw combat overseas. In the fall of 1965, Jerry enlisted in the United States Marine Corps in Birmingham, Alabama, and applied for one of its programs to receive a commission. It seemed unusual for a young man who had been a cheerleader to choose the most rigorous, demanding branch of the military, but Jerry had learned early how to juggle his varying interests.

  His military records note that his job prior to enlisting was listed as “lifeguard” with seven years of experience. His duties were described simply as “guarding lives, swimming and diving instruction, and supervision of premises.”

  For the United States Marines, involvement in what would turn out to be the nation’s longest war had begun on August 2, 1954, eleven years before Jerry Akers entered the service. The arrival of Lieutenant Colonel Victor J. Croizat as a liaison officer with the newly established United States Military Assistance and Advisory Group to the Republic of Vietnam marked the beginning of America’s commitment to South Vietnam. But it was not until the spring of 1962 that the United States deployed a Marine Medium Squadron to South Vietnam to provide combat service support to the South Vietnamese Army.

  Like all Americans, Jeremy felt angered when news of the Gulf of Tonkin incident hit the papers in August of 1964. The alleged attack on a U.S. aircraft carrier in the waters off the eastern coast of North Vietnam left him and many of his countrymen enraged. The incident triggered an escalation of U.S. involvement in the Republic of Vietnam, and occurred just days before Jeremy began his first semester at the University of Virginia. As was his nature, Jeremy studied diligently, all the time keeping one eye on the events unfolding in Vietnam. He was aware that by the end of his first year of law school, the United States had mobilized more than 40,000 troops in South Vietnam, and word that more men were being called to duty prompted him to put his studies on hold and join the fight. To Jeremy, serving one’s country was the noblest thing a man could do, and he had zero tolerance for those who didn’t feel the same way.