The Brannon Homicides Confession

Official Transcript of Larry Parks’s Confession

The Manatee County District Attorney did not have an easy time deciding whether to prosecute Larry Parks. DNA evidence had linked him to the Brannon murders, and a painstaking investigation by the Manatee County Sheriff’s Office concluded that Dewey Brannon had no part in the homicide and that Parks had acted alone. To the layman, it would seemed a slam-dunk. The Meyers family– parents and grandparents and sister of Sherry Brannon– and Dewey Brannon wanted to see Larry Parks tried and convicted. Most or all of them wanted to see him get the death penalty, the penalty he had inflicted on an innocent woman and her two small daughters. He had been their judge, jury, and executioner, and now it was his turn to be judged, they felt.

Parks was entitled to a jury trial, and great pains were made to find a trial location outside of Manatee County where publicity might not have tainted the jury pool. Nonetheless, Charlie Wells remembered, “I had had a case not too many years earlier where we had an eye witness to the homicide but the jury voted ‘not guilty.’ Juries can be wild cards.”

The Sheriff’s Office reviewed the Brannon case evidence with the local and state District Attorneys’ offices. While they all agreed there was sufficient evidence to try Parks, Bob Meyers–Sherry’s father and Shelby and Cassidy’s grandfather–had spoken frequently to the press and the public about his belief that Larry Parks had not acted alone. He had posted a bulletin board notice in the courthouse offering a $125,000 reward for anyone who could produce proof that someone besides Parks was involved. He could never bring himself to believe that his smart, careful daughter opened the door to a sketchy landscaper she barely knew. Knowing that, jurors might have concluded there was “reasonable doubt” and not convicted him. There might have been a hung jury that couldn’t reach consensus, thus forcing the DA to decide whether or not to re-try him. A trial was a risky move.

A plea agreement could guarantee that Larry Parks went to prison for life while avoiding the time and expense of a trial. The Meyers family felt that they could not rest until they knew the details of what happened on September 16, 1999. Painful though those might be, they seemed preferable to a lifetime not knowing. The DA and Larry Parks, with advice from his attorney, agreed that Larry would make a truthful confession detailing the crimes and agree to life in prison without parole possibility, and in return the DA’s Office would take the death penalty off the table.

Two years and six months after the murders, on March 2, 2002, Larry Parks appeared in Florida’s Twelfth Judicial District Circuit court and testified to the confession he had made on February 26, 2002. Present at the Manatee County Jail in Port Manatee to record his testimony and ask clarifying questions that day had been Manatee County Sheriff’s Office Major Connie Shingledecker and Lieutenant Keith Keough; attorneys for the defense Steven Schaefer and Jim Slater; and Art Brown, Assistant State Attorney. I will not share the details of his confession here because, very honestly, I want you to read our forthcoming book, Yellow Twine: How Outstanding Detective Work Solved the Brannon Triple Homicides!

Members of the Meyers and Brannon families attended the official courtroom proceeding on March 2nd. As Larry Parks testified about the manner in which he had killed Sherry Brannon and her daughters, their father, Dewey Brannon, grew increasingly more flushed. His distress and rage were unmistakable. Without warning, he rushed from his seat and catapulted over the wooden rail separating the judge and perpetrator from the audience. Before he could reach Larry Parks, sheriff’s deputies tackled Brannon and brought him down to the floor. He was removed from the courtroom until it was decided he was calm enough to return. “I let them down,” Brannon said afterward. “And I let them down again by not getting to him. I would have killed him.”

At the hearing Sherry’s identical twin sister, Mary Ann Nevitt, made a witness impact statement on behalf of her family. Larry Parks would not look at her as she spoke. She said that her family would fight through their pain just as Sherry had fought for her life and the lives of her daughters that morning. “We will heal and we will recover,” she said. “Just remember every time that cell door closes behind you, three little girls put you there.”

Parks was remanded to Union Correctional Facility in Raiford, Florida where he remains today and will remain until his death. Robert Meyers passed away in 2018; his wife Dolly and daughter Mary Ann still reside in Florida on the Gulf coast. Dewey Brannon married the woman he was living with when Sherry was murdered and they are still married.

Next Up: I have corresponded with Larry Parks while he is in prison. I’ll talk more about that next time.

Thanks for reading, and stay safe!

Writing True Crime: The Art of Balancing Accuracy and Kindness

From Shelby and Cassidy Brannon to their Daddy

Their lives were so much larger than their deaths. As an example, here was a picture Shelby and Cassidy Brannon signed, with love, to their father, Dewey Brannon. I found it among the crime investigation files available to the public. And that is the answer to the question Dewey asked me about why I had to use their real names instead of pseudonyms, why I was writing the story at all, 20 years later. “Nobody cares after all this time,” he said.

I told him I had to think about my answer. Until he asked, I had never considered using any names but the real ones. Charlie Wells and I are writing a book of non-fiction, and one of the reasons we are writing it is because we think there needs to be accountability for the crime and for how it was investigated. Charlie is extremely proud of the work his investigators and staff did to solve the crime quickly and he wants the world to know about it. He’s angry that a profiler led them down a wrong path and briefly delayed the progress of the investigation as a result.

He and his colleagues were especially affected by this crime because it involved children. I heard that over and over from the investigation team leader, Major Connie Shingledecker, from Captain Rick Gerken who led the day-to-day investigation, and from Dianna Taylor, the supervisor of the Manatee County Sheriff’s Office forensics unit that processed the crime scene. All of those investigators had young children, and I had three teen sons by the time the murders were committed in 1999. We all wanted the murderer to be held accountable in the strongest possible way for what he had done. Having the world know him and his crimes was one way to do that.

My interviewee’s queries brought me to some fundamental questions about what I was doing. I knew I was fascinated by this particular case, but could not tell you why, and using pseudonyms seemed dishonest somehow. We had unearthed tons of unflattering facts about people involved in the case, yet not all of them were relevant…or were they? It was not always possible to know.

After a lot of soul-searching, this is what I have concluded: the story we are writing is a story about a family. In it are births and deaths, joy and anguish, problems and solutions, facts, guesses, and conclusions. Those are the elements of all lives. We think we are unique, and in the details we are, but looking at the whole picture we are not so very different.

While some parts of life are unbearably cruel, it is not necessary to inject gratutitous detail into the story, thus adding pain to survivors who may decide to read the book. The lives of the victims, survivors, and perpetrator are much longer and more involved than what was revealed in the murders and their solution. That fullness, with its richness and beauty, needs to frame the story of the homicide.

Dewey Brannon told me he had spent the last 20 years of his life trying to forget what he had seen that day. We will tell the story as kindly as possible, as completely as we are able. I hope this will help Dewey and the other survivors of these tragic murders remember the girls’ energy and their sweetness.

Why Write About Murder?

Charlie Wells, Sheriff of Manatee County, retired

“We are all sharing stories about what it means to be human. …The true cost of crime and violence cannot be fully understood without knowing about the lives it touches. My answer to how to honor the victims is to tell a responsible story.”

Writers Wear Many Hats

Unknown skeleton

Naively I used to think that the only jobs of a writer were to write and then to edit what has been written. For decades I’ve written technical and public relations material and edited the work of other writers and writing and editing were pretty much all I had to do. Since 2007, though, I’ve been working on a book with another author about a triple homicide and sometimes it feels as if writing the book is the least of it.

With nonfiction the author usually sells the book before it’s completely written. First, we are told, we need to find a literary agent interested in the sort of book we’re writing and send that agent a killer one-page query letter. Then if we’re lucky, the agent will request a book proposal. The latter contains a summary of the book (number of words, target audience, etc.); biographies of the authors capable of convincing potential publishers that we’re the right people to write the book; a marketing plan (new authors do most of the publicity leg work); and two or more sample chapters. If that goes well the agent will ask for more chapters and may eventually offer to represent us to potential publishers.

This summer, instead of obsessively writing and re-writing the same four chapters I first drafted in 2007 (I can’t edit/re-read a page without wanting to change something), I began moving ahead with the narrative. When that’s going badly, I take time out to investigate potential agents and research various styles of writing proposals. It’s hard work but we’ve got to do that too.

So what’s with the creepy critter? And when and why did we all begin starting our sentences with “So”? Regarding the former: I came upon him unexpectedly and dragged my photographer son out to capture the pic because he was so creepy. The critter, not my son. If the photo got your attention, that’s all I wanted. A streak of marketing genius! Happy writing.

Dog Lake Writing

From May until October, I write in a little white cottage near Battersea, Ontario, Canada. It’s silent here until about five in the afternoon when our neighbor the loon calls out his mournful greeting as he floats past us in front of our break wall. At night in the bedroom it’s so dark that I can’t see my hand when I wave it in front of me.

I’m writing a book about a horrendous murder, and yet being so isolated is not scary, at least not this year. My husband is with me, puttering in the yard or doing Dog Lake Association work. It’s peaceful and relaxing and conducive to long hours of uninterrupted writing.

Last year, though, I was here alone for a week and took my laptop to bed with me sometimes. It was muggy and hot those nights, and I opened all the windows. Swish, swish, swish, I heard one night right outside the window. I froze and listened. Finally went back to work. In a few more minutes, swish, swish, swish. My heart leapt a little. “Honey,” I called out to no one, “get the shotgun. Someone is sneaking around outside this window.” There would be a little scrap of silence, then swish, swish, swish.

I crept from the bed to the closet and retrieved the unloaded shotgun leaning against the wall in there. I had no idea where the shotgun shells were and had never loaded or shot a gun. I pointed it at the floor, the only safety measure I remembered from a long-ago girl scout gun safety class, and paced in front of the windows. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave now,” I said as ominously as possible. Swish, swish, swish. I slid the gun under the bed, turned out the light, and finally fell asleep.

The next weekend my husband arrived and I told him my scary story. He walked outside and examined the shrubbery beneath the windows. He kicked at some dirt. “A family of skunks has made a home for themselves here,” he said.

Perhaps writing about homicide put me in a nervous frame of mind last year, but now I am happily ensconced in nature’s beauty. The sun filters into the woods surrounding the cottage on three sides. The lake water laps softly at the stone wall I can see from the little writing cottage. There are skunks and big black water snakes here, but they don’t frighten me.

Twenty years ago when the Brannon family was murdered in Florida, there were wild hogs in the secluded woods behind the house, and oak trees and palmettos and a pretty pond in front of the set-back house. Nothing scared Sherry Brannon. She had chosen that lonely, 5-acre lot to build their home because she wanted to live in a peaceful, country setting. And yet within that space, on her 35th birthday, Sherry was stabbed to death along with her 4- and 7-year old daughters.

My takeaways: Life is full of ambiguity. No place is inherently safe and none is inherently dangerous. Not all murders occur in crowded cities. The most dangerous part of nature is most often human nature. And I can write the most horrible truths in the most serene of places.