Reach from Beyond

By Joseph Wulf

Reach from Beyond is based on a true story. What started as a traffic accident on the Illinois Interstate Highway system turned into a murder investigation. The division of criminal investigation with the Illinois State Police was called to take over the investigation. Agent Josh Wood will be assigned to make contact with the victim from somewhere beyond the normal channels of his job.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888518090

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Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Based on a True Story

About the Author

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Reach from Beyond

Joseph Wulf

ISBN 979-8-88851-808-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88851-809-0 (Digital)

Copyright © 2023 Joseph Wulf

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

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Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

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Based on a True Story

It was a warm fall morning in 1987 in a Midwestern town like other Midwestern towns. But this morning would become a life-changing day for special agent Josh Wood. Agent Wood was one of six agents on a general criminal squad in the Illinois State Police Division of Criminal Investigation. The squad leader, Master Sergeant Earl Maddox, was well seasoned for his years on the force. He knew when a case came his way from the supervisors in the office, he would start the wheels in motion for the next felony. This morning, Sergeant Maddox received a phone call that would change the life of Josh Wood forever.

Sergeant Maddox had a look of concern on his face as he placed the phone back on the receiver. As he had done so many times before, he looked around his desk at the agents sitting so close almost within reach of his huge hands. Sergeant Maddox was an ex-marine and very fit for his age. Maddox was forty-four years old but had the body of a twenty-year-old. He was wise beyond his years because he took the time to know every one of the agents on his squad. He knew how far to push and when to offer a pat on the back.

All six agents were at their desks on this morning. The usual caseload for an agent was fifteen to twenty pending cases. Sergeant Maddox knew every one of the cases assigned as he had recorded in his case logbook. Agent Wood was just about to go for a second cup of coffee for the morning when Maddox turned his attention to him. With the delivery of a well-turned fastball by Roger Clemens, Maddox turned over a request for assistance from the uniformed section of the Illinois State Police.

Sergeant Maddox was already on his feet with his jacket in his hand when he delivered the order like a parent with authority. Looks like a request for an investigator at the Pratt Beach Funeral Home is needed. Pratt Beach was a small, incorporated town with a uniformed police department of six officers. The funeral director had called Pratt Beach Police Department.

Sergeant Maddox advised two other agents to assist Agent Wood with his detail. Agent Shewmake and Siebert were on their feet and out the door almost before Sergeant Maddox assigned them. The departure from the new State office building was quick, and no further direction was needed.

Upon arrival at the Pratt Beach Funeral Home, Agent Wood and Sergeant Maddox contacted the funeral director, Earl Weaver. Weaver was also a deputy coroner with the county. Although Weaver was comfortable around dead bodies, he seemed to have a difficult reflection on this body. Weaver took us to the basement chambers of the Funeral Home. The chambers were for the preparation of the bodies for viewing. Weaver was stopped from doing his usual routine on this body that was on the Gurney in the middle of the room.

Agent Wood could smell the distinct odor of the chamber room. He had been an agent for just three years but made several visits to the various chambers for the evidence to reach to him from beyond. No matter how small the piece of evidence, it could mean the difference between the perpetrator being caught or free to continue their acts of violence.

Weaver told Agent Wood he began his preparation on this body as he had done on so many before. But this body was not going to let this happen. Weaver was just a few seconds away from inserting the tube to inject the embalming fluid into the body. As he was adjusting the body, he noticed something around the head area. As he turned the head, he heard something of a thud hit the metal prep table. The sound he heard was later identified as pellets from a shotgun blast. The pellets were falling from a wound on the side of the head of the body being examined. Weaver stopped the exam at this point and called the police.

Trooper Fred Cantor was on his second midnight shift of the week. It was a cloudy night, and he was in the mood for a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll, his favorite snack. Just as he was about to exit the freeway, the radio came to life. Cantor was used to the calls since he was on one of the busiest beats in the district. He had been employed with the state police for twenty-four years and was nearing his anticipated retirement.

Cantor pulled up to the scene and could see it was going to be another routine assignment. As he approached the lone vehicle, he noticed the engine was still running. Cantor could see the driver's side was wedged against the middle barrier on the freeway, separating the westbound lane from the eastbound line. He was able to break the front passenger window and open the door.

Trooper Cantor could see the unusual amount of blood on the interior. He would later realize why this was not just another routine assignment. The driver's window was destroyed upon impact with the guardrail; at least, that's what Cantor thought on this so-called accident. The driver had a head wound that was obviously where most of the blood was coming from. Cantor called for an ambulance right away.

The ambulance arrived after what Cantor thought was a lengthy wait. The ambulance pulled away with the victim, and Cantor hoped the young man would be all right. What Cantor didn't know was the young man would be DOA at Mercy General Hospital.

The ER doctor was young and up too many hours for a thorough exam of the young victim of a reported accident. It was the doctor's decision to sign the death certificate with the cause of death being trauma to the head as a result of a one car accident. The body of the young man was sent to the Pratt Funeral Home for arrangements with the family.

Brad Legate was always interested in medicine since he was a small boy playing in his father's office. His father, doctor Frank Legate, was a well-respected doctor of this small Illinois town of Cedar Hills. Brad would go with his father on the short ride to the office located on the only highway through town. Dr. Legate was a general practitioner and the only doctor in town. Brad could have the run of the small office. The office nurse and receptionist, Ann Dunn, had been with the doctor since he opened his practice. Ann was also a part-time babysitter for Brad. Brad loved his father and the great way he would always take the time to explain what he was doing and the reasons behind his care for his patients. The charts were colorful and revealing to a small boy, and his father would explain in his deep rhythmic voice what each chart would represent.

It was Saturday morning in the middle of summer at the Legate house. Brad Legate and his eleven-year-old friends were not going to stay in bed on such a beautiful day. Brad had invited his friends to spend the night. Ron Short, Dave Garrett, and Josh Wood were Brad's best friends and did most everything together. This morning's plan was to go swimming at Shanks Pond. The pond was at the end of a dead-end street behind the only Baptist Church in town. There was no need to wake everyone as there seemed to be an internal alarm clock ringing in their heads at the same time.

The morning sun for August was already making its appearance and chasing what was left of the little whiff of fog in the lower areas of this small town of 1,500. Most of the folks that live around the neighborhood were still in their home, having that first cup of coffee and retrieving the Saint Louis morning paper from the driveway. Saint Louis was the nearest large city within a short drive of Cedar Hills.

Before Brad and his friends were able to escape to start their day, Brad's mom, Edith Legate, stopped them in their tracks. Edith Legate kept a tidy house, and she had a housekeeper in three times a week. She made sure that each of the boys had a good start of the day with a hearty breakfast.

Brad was always trying to be the leader of the group, although he was two or three inches shorter than everyone. After he would ramble on about the way things were going to go, we would make a joint decision and move on. Brad was always trying to get Ron to talk about his older sister. Ron's sister was thirteen and developing rather well. Brad, on too many occasions, would say he would like to take Ron's sister to bed. Ron would just give Brad a look that said, Are you crazy?

A required piece of equipment for the four friends was a BB gun. The prey of choice was pigeons or the large black birds that flew in the woods near Shanks pond. Usually, on a Saturday, the four hunters would take their guns to the woods and wait for the blackbirds to land near them. Brad would always make the first move to get the position for a shot that went somewhere other than the target and the flock of birds would fly off out of range. It would be a long day for the four friends but so much fun.

On one summer day, Brad's dad took the four friends on a trip to the Mississippi River on board his cabin cruiser. The boat dock at Piasa Harbor wasn't too busy, and it was a beautiful Sunday morning for a trip on the river. Brad had been with his dad on many trips up and down the river, and he let Josh, Dave, and Ron know the routine for making the boat ready to go. Dr. Legate eased the boat into the current of the Mississippi as they started a day of adventure.

Brad went below deck and came out with two bows equipped with bells for attaching a line to an arrow. The plan was to gig a few bullfrogs. The Mississippi River near Aston had several small islands where bullfrogs were plentiful. Just a few minutes out, Dr. Legate steered the boat into a Cove of the first island, just up the river from Aston. The anchor was dropped, and the four friends got into a small motorboat that Dr. Legate was pulling behind the cabin cruiser. Brad was guiding the boat with a small trolling motor and entered the first inlet. The bullfrogs sounded like the roar of a bear.

Just ahead, Brad took the first shot and had their first frog of the day as he reeled it into the boat. There would be two more before the day ended. There would have been three, but a large snake got the frog after a near miss by Ron.

A few days later, Brad called Dave, Ron and Josh to enlist their help with a project at his family's farm on the outskirts of town. The farm had an oversized barn that had been used to store corn and hay for the harsh winters of Illinois. The hayloft was double-layered and covered the entire length of the barn. There were enough stalls to board a herd of horses. The double doors to the barn allowed the equipment, like the tractors and hay baler, to be pulled inside for protection from the winter months.

Upon arrival to the family farm the four friends piled out of the back of Dr. Legate's pickup truck. Brad's older brother, Rod, was seventeen and glad to help his brother, within reason, especially if he got to drive the family truck. Rod was given the task of being in charge and responsible for Brad and his friends.

Brad brought all the equipment the four needed to complete their project. All four had a bow and several hunting arrows to eradicate the unwanted inhabitants, making a home in the lofts of the large barn. There were around twenty-five to fifty pigeons starting to roost in the rafters as the sun was disappearing. Brad had to get a shot off to set the pace for his friends. He nailed the first pigeon to land on a bale of hay right in front of everyone. The feathers flew high in the air. The pigeons started nonstop flying inside the barn since the doors on the upper and lower area were closed for their project to be completed.

Most farmers didn't like the pigeons occupying their outbuildings, which caused such a dirty mess and eating the stored grain. Thus, the four friends were the solution to the problem and would also hone their skills for the hated blackbirds.

The lazy days of summer seem to drag on forever. Time spent together of the four friends would bring new experiences. That sunny Saturday morning was one that would always be remembered.

Gary Boyer lived two houses down from the Legate residence. He was two years older than the four friends and didn't hang around the same places. He was usually hanging around his house and not venturing far from it. He seemed to be a loner most of the time. On one Saturday, Dr. Legate received a call from Gary's mom, Mrs. Boyer, who could hardly talk from the urgency in her voice about the mishap. Her son, Gary, had somehow, while going to the bathroom, got his penis caught in his zipper and was bleeding a lot.

Dr. Legate wasn't busy and proceeded to the Boyer residence. The doctor was able to cut the appendage away from the zipper with the least amount of damage.

Somehow, the information of the injured appendage leaked its way to the four friends, and it was the topic for the next few weeks. Gary Boyer seemed to stay even closer to home after that Saturday morning. Brad had to have more fun with the topic than most. He would make remarks of how small the appendage was after his dad had to do a little trimming on it.

Most of the summer was spent on the banks of Shanks Pond or chasing the blackbirds halfway across Cedar Hills. The four friends love the summer and being around each other to discover what was next in their path. Over the coming years, the four friends would drift into their own direction of what life was going to bring for them. Each had much to discover. The time would be better for some and harsh for others.

Brad had a brief stint in military school. Brad would find himself in a sailboat skirting the South American coast around Cape Horn. At the request of his father, Brad was hit and miss from junior college until he signed on as a deckhand with the crew of the Southern Belle, a sailboat docked in the Gulf of Mexico.

Ron Short wasn't quite as lucky as Brad. Ron found out he had a knack for driving fast cars while drinking the state of Illinois dry of bourbon. After being caught by the police on the third time, he was provided a new place to live at Menard State Prison.

The tool and dye business on the east end of Cedar Hills was a perfect fit for Dave Garrett. He started as an apprentice machinist and moved up to the manager of the whole shop. He never got far from home. He even married his childhood sweetheart. They had a nice little three-bedroom ranch on Nora Street in Cedar Hills. Dave sent his two boys to the same grade school he attended.

Josh decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. He attended the local junior college and earned an AAS in criminal justice while at the South Royalton Police Department. After three years, he went on to become a state trooper with the Illinois State Police and, eventually, a special agent with the Division of Criminal Investigation.

Terry Sanders would go on to college and remain in Northern Illinois for the next three years. Terry was in his last year of school until the early morning hours of October, when everything was taken from him, including his life.

The city of Allenton was the county seat for Medicine County. The American Legion Hall was a favorite place to go for some good music and release the pressures of a hard week of exams. It seemed like no one ever got out of hand or caused a problem.

Sanders was home for the weekend from school and enjoying the band playing some good dance music. Sanders and his girlfriend, Janet Tarrant, were on the floor for three songs in a row. Sanders gave Janet that look that said he was ready to sit this one out.

It was after midnight, and Janet decided to call it a night. She only lived three blocks from the Legion Hall, and she told Sanders she was fine and would like to go home. Sanders dropped her off and started for home himself. He lived in Grand Island, and it would take him about thirty minutes to drive home. It would be a much shorter drive for his destination. The rain was starting to fall, and the surface of Interstate 207 was a little slick. Sanders was moving at a slower pace to get home and get some rest for the anticipated trip back to school in the morning. The middle lane seemed to be drier than the other two lanes, so Sanders maintained a slower pace than the 55 mph limit.

Sanders was listening to the country music on his car radio, which was his favorite type of music. He noticed a vehicle approaching from the rear at a high rate of speed. As the car got closer to Sanders, he noticed that the car was also in the middle lane. At the last second, the car swerved into the left lane, just clipping the left rear fender on Sanders's car.

The adrenaline was pumping through Sanders's veins as the dark colored car came up alongside his left side and slowed down. The movement was so fast that Sanders oversteered, and his car drifted to the left, almost touching the dark car. Just as Sanders was getting his vehicle straight in the middle lane, he didn't see the passenger in the dark car had rolled down his window. He was holding a sawed off 12-gauge shotgun pointed at the driver's window. When the reflexes kicked in to put his foot on the brake, it would be his last before striking the median and coming to rest there.

The midnight run for truck driver Stan Best was about to be delayed by several hours. Best noticed what he thought was a stalled vehicle in the passing lane. After years of driving experience, Best had the quick wit to block the passing lane and get his flares and signal lights on the road before a pile of cars ended up on Interstate 207 that night.

Trooper Cantor rolled up on the westbound lanes of Interstate 207 behind the semitruck that best had provided as cover for the investigation that was about to begin. Trooper Cantor asked Best if anyone was hurt. Best told him the driver seemed to be unconscious and needed medical attention. After determining that Terry Sanders was unresponsive, Cantor had an ambulance on the way.

Everything seemed to have a look of one vehicle accident as Cantor was finishing up his accident investigation. The Sanders vehicle was showing damage on the left side near the front. The driver's side window was broken out, and Cantor noticed the blood on the driver's door. He had no reason to believe the wound to Sanders had been caused by anything but the impact with the median.

The ambulance roared into the emergency room parking lot, where a team of emergency room personnel were waiting to start treatment of a serious head wound victim. The ambulance crew had phoned in to the emergency room that they could not read any vitals on the victim just before arriving. The emergency room doctor was unable to stabilize Sanders, and he was pronounced dead from what was thought to be a single vehicle accident.

Josh Wood was fresh off the drug unit and just starting to get used to his short hair. The long hair and street person look was now in the past. Josh had to shift gears and adjust to the general criminal cases now.

Josh came from the small Midwestern town of Cedar Hills, Illinois. He had an older half-brother and three younger brothers. Josh always wanted a sister for advice that he could use later in life. Josh discovered from an early age that he was glad to have an older brother. Marvin was seven years older than Josh. When Josh or the other three siblings did something wrong, the blame was heaped on Marvin since he was the oldest. This was the way it was with Frank Wood, their dad.

Frank Wood was from the old school with an eighth-grade education. He was a hod carrier for the local union and worked construction most of his adult life. He was an alcoholic and beat his wife, Carol, in front of the five boys from early on. The beatings would get worse until Carol decided that she wouldn't take him back as she had so many times before. Frank moved out for good. The separation would last until Frank's death ten years later.

Josh was thinking back when his older brother Marvin had joined the army. He was only seventeen, but Carol would sign the paper so he could get away from the beatings he received from Frank Wood. The beatings were then received by Josh since he was the oldest living at home. The home life was near impossible for Josh. From the time the physical abuse started, he would find an outlet to get away from contact with family. Frank usually came home late from a construction job, so drunk he would stumble to the front door of the tin roof house where the Woods lived for many years.

The house was on a dead-end street and was on the back of a lot. The front of the lot was Carol Wood's mother's house. Josh's grandmother, Lillian Ross, was an angel sent to protect him on those times that Frank was looking for a reason to inflict pain. The sanctuary of grandmother's house was off limits for Frank Wood. She was a devout Christian from the Pentecostal church and stood her ground in her faith. The day had arrived when Josh was fifteen and starting to grow. After watching for many years his mother's beatings, he decided it was enough.

On this day, Frank Wood arrived home from work as usual, two or three hours late, and smelling of beer. He immediately started on Carol about anything she had done during the day that he didn't approve of. Before he could get