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But, he added, “I ain’t kill no one.” His account of the incident is much different: he says that gunfire flew from all directions, including from Moore’s passenger, Burdette, who started shooting after Williams fired the shotgun into the air.All four defendants were charged with capital murder—an intentional killing accompanied by another felony.Burdette escaped, but Moore collapsed in the street and died. Williams and Barnes took the Caprice, ripped out its stereo, then ditched the car in a pasture on the edge of town.After Williams showed Barnes a .380 that he said he’d found in the Caprice, they stashed their weapons in the woods and walked home.But two days later Barnes turned himself in, giving a “full confession,” according to a detective’s sworn affidavit, and naming Williams, Rudolph, and Jackson as accomplices. The three suspects in custody identified Jackson as the sole shooter.The police went looking for him at the apartment where his mother, Marilyn, lived with his two sisters, Wanda and La Quanda.

This was a lie, but it had its intended effect: Jackson eventually admitted that he had run Moore off the road.

It was late at night, and the street light nearest the crime scene was out. A.’s office, possibly foreseeing the difficulty of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, offered Jackson a plea bargain: life in prison without the possibility of parole.

With the death penalty on the table, he should have taken the deal. At the time, the state carried out its death sentences with a century-old electric chair, Yellow Mama, so named because it was coated in the paint used to mark centerlines on highways.

After the cars collided, he saw flashes of gunfire on the driver’s side of the Buick; he heard a boom and several pops.

He had observed the quickly unfolding action from inside his truck, about sixty-five yards away, on the other side of a chain-link fence.

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