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Authors: Samuel Roen
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artist’s drawing being circulated.”
“That’s right. It’s not accurate,” he stated in a voice of absolute certainty, and then added, “I can provide the artist with a more detailed drawing to help you catch the guy. I saw the man in the white Explorer and can describe him.”
The detectives were impressed with Wilson’s confident manner. They learned that he worked with Carla Larson with whom he had a great, friendly relationship. It was evident that he was upset about Carla’s fate, and that was the reason he was anxious to pitch in to help.
Weir and Linnert arranged for Wilson to meet with Detective Steve Fusco, the department artist, who would create a new drawing.
After Brad spent time with the artist, Weir and Linnert met with him at the OCSD office in the Cassidy Building.
“Mr. Wilson, how did the drawing session go?” Cam Weir asked.
“I think that it went great. The artist will give you his report. I think he did a super job. The drawing is definitely more accurate and should better help to identify that guy.”
“Great. Now I’d appreciate it if you would give us a detailed review of what you witnessed or know,” Weir said.
Wilson answered in his clear, confident voice. “It was that day, the tenth of June, and a group of us Centex fellows were returning to the job, you know, the Coronado Springs Resort. It was about one o’clock. I was with Gary Wilson.” He smiled and then explained. “My Dad. He works for Centex Rooney, too. Also David Lewis and Dave Gust. We were on Osceola Parkway, going west, crossing the I-4 bridge. That’s when we saw this white Ford Explorer coming out of the woods.” He emphasized, “I don’t think we would have been so observant about the vehicle, but it came racing out of the woods and it struck all of us that the driver belting that car that way was asking for trouble, that he should get a ticket.” Brad paused and then said, “It was more than just plain speeding; the conditions of the road were terrible, and to drive that fast under such conditions just made no sense. We all commented about it.”
Linnert asked, “About how far away were you from the vehicle?”
Wilson glanced away, his brow furrowed in thought as he figured. “I’d say about one hundred to one hundred fifty feet when we first saw it.”
“Did you see or observe anything else of significance at the time?” Weir asked.
“There were two men in green T-shirts, carrying plastic bags, walking on either side of the path where that vehicle was traveling.” He added, “I’m pretty sure that the Ford drove between the two of them.”
Brad thought before continuing. “I remember very distinctly that we were in the left-hand lane of the parkway and the white car pulled directly up onto the roadway without even stopping. I couldn’t believe it. And I thought that man should have his license revoked; that is, of course, if he actually has a license. Anyway, we followed the Explorer from behind, but I didn’t take notice of the license tag.” Brad then apologized. “You know, it’s easy to think of what you should have done after it’s over, but at that time we didn’t have any reason to make note of the tag. I did see that there was a painted beige trim around the body of the vehicle, on the lower section.
“As both cars were heading westbound, we pulled alongside the Explorer, and that guy behind the wheel looked over at me and I got a good look at him.”
“Was he wearing sunglasses?” Linnert asked.
“No, and there was something about his eyes—they were kind of bulgy. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he looked troubled.”
“Describe him as best you remember. This is important, so take your time,” Weir said.
“I think that I mentioned that he was a white fellow. I could see that he was outdoors quite a lot. He had a heavy tan. I felt that his tan wasn’t the kind that a tennis player gets or one that you get on the beach. This guy looked like he got
“That’s right. It’s not accurate,” he stated in a voice of absolute certainty, and then added, “I can provide the artist with a more detailed drawing to help you catch the guy. I saw the man in the white Explorer and can describe him.”
The detectives were impressed with Wilson’s confident manner. They learned that he worked with Carla Larson with whom he had a great, friendly relationship. It was evident that he was upset about Carla’s fate, and that was the reason he was anxious to pitch in to help.
Weir and Linnert arranged for Wilson to meet with Detective Steve Fusco, the department artist, who would create a new drawing.
After Brad spent time with the artist, Weir and Linnert met with him at the OCSD office in the Cassidy Building.
“Mr. Wilson, how did the drawing session go?” Cam Weir asked.
“I think that it went great. The artist will give you his report. I think he did a super job. The drawing is definitely more accurate and should better help to identify that guy.”
“Great. Now I’d appreciate it if you would give us a detailed review of what you witnessed or know,” Weir said.
Wilson answered in his clear, confident voice. “It was that day, the tenth of June, and a group of us Centex fellows were returning to the job, you know, the Coronado Springs Resort. It was about one o’clock. I was with Gary Wilson.” He smiled and then explained. “My Dad. He works for Centex Rooney, too. Also David Lewis and Dave Gust. We were on Osceola Parkway, going west, crossing the I-4 bridge. That’s when we saw this white Ford Explorer coming out of the woods.” He emphasized, “I don’t think we would have been so observant about the vehicle, but it came racing out of the woods and it struck all of us that the driver belting that car that way was asking for trouble, that he should get a ticket.” Brad paused and then said, “It was more than just plain speeding; the conditions of the road were terrible, and to drive that fast under such conditions just made no sense. We all commented about it.”
Linnert asked, “About how far away were you from the vehicle?”
Wilson glanced away, his brow furrowed in thought as he figured. “I’d say about one hundred to one hundred fifty feet when we first saw it.”
“Did you see or observe anything else of significance at the time?” Weir asked.
“There were two men in green T-shirts, carrying plastic bags, walking on either side of the path where that vehicle was traveling.” He added, “I’m pretty sure that the Ford drove between the two of them.”
Brad thought before continuing. “I remember very distinctly that we were in the left-hand lane of the parkway and the white car pulled directly up onto the roadway without even stopping. I couldn’t believe it. And I thought that man should have his license revoked; that is, of course, if he actually has a license. Anyway, we followed the Explorer from behind, but I didn’t take notice of the license tag.” Brad then apologized. “You know, it’s easy to think of what you should have done after it’s over, but at that time we didn’t have any reason to make note of the tag. I did see that there was a painted beige trim around the body of the vehicle, on the lower section.
“As both cars were heading westbound, we pulled alongside the Explorer, and that guy behind the wheel looked over at me and I got a good look at him.”
“Was he wearing sunglasses?” Linnert asked.
“No, and there was something about his eyes—they were kind of bulgy. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he looked troubled.”
“Describe him as best you remember. This is important, so take your time,” Weir said.
“I think that I mentioned that he was a white fellow. I could see that he was outdoors quite a lot. He had a heavy tan. I felt that his tan wasn’t the kind that a tennis player gets or one that you get on the beach. This guy looked like he got
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