The Week: A Deadly Passion

Jerry Taylor lived, and died, playing the game he loved

By Tom Cunneff

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March 19 was a day like any other in the life of Jerry Taylor. A 60-year-old retail food sales rep from Tucson, he spent the morning making visits to grocery stores before going to hit balls at his home away from home, the Fred Enke Golf Course, a desert-style muni where a round costs $26. Around 1 p.m. Taylor walked past the clubhouse to the short-game practice area between the driving range and the 1st hole, lugging his self-made Mad Dog irons and Acer Series woods. Taylor found a spot about 50 yards from a target flag and started to hit wedge shots, a daily ritual for an 11 handicap obsessed with improving. Golf was not merely a diversion for Taylor; it was a huge part of his life.

His wife of 36 years, Beverly, says that no matter where they went on vacation he always took his clubs, just in case they came across a course. He loved to sit in his tan recliner in their modest, one-story home and watch the pros on TV, especially Phil Mickelson. Taylor took great pride in having introduced the game to his 18-year-old grandson, Ryan, now a plus-one handicap who has earned a scholarship to Tucson's Pima Community College. And Taylor loved to tinker with clubs in the small workshop he built in the backyard.

After Taylor hit perhaps 40 wedge shots, he went to collect the balls. As he turned to head back to his hitting area, a shot from a high-powered rifle struck him in the back. It is believed that Taylor died within seconds. According to the police, the killer, or killers, then dragged his body 50 feet, robbed him of his wallet, which contained about $30, and tried to hide his body in some brush.

Though there were other golfers practicing within 100 yards of where Taylor was felled, none of them saw or heard a thing. The grisly aftermath of the crime wasn't discovered until 2 p.m. Taylor's cap and shag bag lay near a bloodstained area, and drag marks led to his body.

Taylor's family was devastated by the randomness of the crime. "My dad didn't have an enemy in the world," says Taylor's daughter, Cheryll Witz, 40. The lack of suspects and clues -- no bullet was found -- had the Tucson police stumped.

Then a spate of similar acts of random violence began occurring in October. By the time John Allen Muhammad and Lee Malvo were arrested on Oct. 24, they had allegedly killed at least 13 people and wounded seven in a cross-country crime spree. The circumstantial evidence seems to indicate that Taylor was another of their victims. The so-called Beltway snipers had come to Tucson in mid-March to visit Muhammad's sister, Odessa Newell, who lived minutes from the Fred Enke course. The following month Malvo reportedly bragged to a Seattle friend about shooting two golfers in Arizona, robbing them and burying their bodies in the desert. Though police know nothing of a second dead golfer, Malvo's friend was privy to details about Taylor's case that weren't made public.

Though the legal system has not yet weighed in, Taylor's family believes that the killers have been apprehended. That has brought a measure of closure, but Taylor's perpetual smile is still sorely missed around the Tucson golf scene. A short but straight hitter, the 5'9", 155-pound Taylor played in two golf leagues. He could occasionally drive his buddies nuts with his deliberate style of play, but he was a beloved playing partner because of his easygoing demeanor and passion for the game. At some point during every round Taylor would say, "What a great day to play golf. Well, I guess there isn't a bad day to play golf."

With one exception: March 19.

O.B.