Where is Beau Jeremy Ramsey?
By Letha Mills
It was around four, maybe five, in the afternoon, Aug. 17, 2004, when Candice West stopped at the Benton home of her grandparents, Van and Jewel Chism; they live across Arkansas Highway 35 from her. A young man was walking a motorcycle through the Chisms semicircular driveway, which curls to an exit onto Reed Street. Seated beside Candice, her 12-year-old niece Katie Watson giggled and said, Hes cute. Candice says they both noticed his wife-beater tank top, a white one, like you see your grandpa wearing.
As she got out of her truck, the man turned, his face stiff and blank. Do you have a gas can? he asked. Crossing the highway, she grabbed a can from her front porch and brought it to him. He topped the bikes fuel tank, which, oddly, was nearly full. Anyway, if he needed gas, thought Candice, why didnt he get it at the Super Stop hed just driven past?
He looked terrified, she recalls. His face was white and his eyes were big, and he never would really look me in the eye. Instead, he kept peering over his shoulder, scanning the highway like a man being chased.
Candice was already back in her truck when she noticed he was having trouble starting the cycle. She got out and was about to offer help when he got the bike going. Taking out his wallet, he silently handed her a $5 bill. Then, pulling onto the highway, he sped off, heading south.
More than a week later, the Benton Courier ran a story about a missing man. Recognizing his picture, Candice couldnt help wondering, What would have happened if I hadnt had gas? Would he have asked me to take him somewhere? Wanting to help, she called the Saline County Sheriffs Department and recounted the incident at her grandparents house. Later, she learned that she was the last person known to have seen Beau Jeremy Ramsey before he vanished that Tuesday afternoon, eight days before his 24th birthday.
Five days passed before Beaus parents knew their only child was missing. Divorced since 1982, Dee Tucker and Jerry Ramsey are both remarried and living in Benton. Beau was staying at Jerrys home in an apartment on the lower level, but he and his mother were close. He called her most days, and they saw each other on weekends. The previous Saturday, however, he had gone to his great-grandmothers funeral in Mountain View.
Sunday night, Aug. 15, Beau called to tell Dee he was starting a new job the next day, framing houses. When she hadnt heard back from him by Thursday, she called Jerry. Beau hadnt been home since Monday evening, he said, but he was probably just out sewing wild oats. Unconvinced, Dee called Beaus friends, but no one remembered seeing him since Monday night.
Friday night Dee drove her pickup along Arkansas 35, peering into ditches, afraid Beau had wrecked the motorcycle he had bought just two weeks before. She knew he wasnt wearing a helmet; shed planned to get him one for his birthday. She had no way of knowing that she was passing by the spot where several people had seen her sons abandoned bike that week. By Saturday, she says, I was getting a real sick feeling in my stomach.
Jerry was starting to worry too. A pharmacist at St. Vincent Doctors Hospital in Little Rock, also working part-time for a homecare pharmacy, his and Beaus work schedules didnt always mesh. In fact, he admits, I rarely saw him. Besides, he says, This wasnt the first time Beau had not come home on a nightly basis, so I didnt think anything unusual about that. But the next day, Sunday, Aug. 22, he found a suspicious message on his answering machine. It was from the Saline County Sheriffs Department: Beaus bike had been found. Thats when I knew something was wrong, he says.
Beaus 2001 black Honda 250 was parked off Baxter Trail, a logging road that edges through dense pine woods just east of Arkansas 35 near the Saline-Grant County line. The bike was propped on its kickstand, key in the ignition, as if its owner had just stepped through the underbrush to answer a call of nature, expecting to return momentarily.
The land is leased to a deer club, and hunters were in and out all week, preparing for the upcoming season. Tracy Manning spotted the cycle when he came out to work on the gate to the property, which is owned by International Paper and used for clear-cutting.
Ed Dodson and Bob Clay, president of the deer club, also saw the bike. We called the sheriffs department and talked to a dispatcher, he says. They said someone would be right out. We waited around for two or three hours, but nobody showed up, so we left.
Cpl Mike Frost, with the sheriffs Criminal Investigation Division (CID), says, There is no record that we ever received a call about that bike being out there. Dee, however, says a dispatcher told her about taking Clays call.
Benton firefighter Russell Evans saw the bike on Saturday, Aug. 21, when he went out to set up digital game cameras. The next day, when he returned to find the bike still there, he called his brother-in-law, Ryan Jacks, an Arkansas State Trooper. Jacks ran the license plate, and then called a wrecker to tow the bike.
Its rare for Jacks to personally contact the owner of an impounded vehicle, but this case struck him as suspicious, so he went to the address listed on the motorcycles registration. He was baffled by Jerrys dispassionate reaction to the newsunaware of the earlier call from the sheriffs office.
That call sticks in my craw, Jerry says, his voice flat, barely audible. If we had known about the bike earlier, we could have turned in a missing person report earlier and the trail obviously wouldnt have been as cold. Then he adds, irritation pinching his words, And instead of me just being able to go down the road three or four miles, I had to pay $135 to pick up the bike.
When Jerry called Dee to tell her he had Beaus motorcycle, she says, I felt like somebody had just ripped my heart out. I had a feeling I was never going to see him again. Saying this, she starts to cry, but quickly regains her composure.
Dee is a warrior, not given to weeping. Short on tact, she is long on mulish determinationand she has made no secret of her displeasure with the investigation into her sons disappearance. She and her husband Jimmy immediately went to the sheriffs office to file a missing person report. They couldnt even find a form, she says, indignation raising her voice. We had to write the information down on notebook paper.
This was not the first time Dee had feared for Beaus life, though nothing in his early years prepared her for the coming trouble. Always a charmergood-looking and full of personalityhe was elected Biggest Flirt by his classmates. He was smart and performed well in school, but shrugged off a chance to join the Gifted and Talented program, saying it was strictly for nerds.
Beau also excelled as an athlete, even attracting the notice of baseball scouts. His cheerleading skills led to a small scholarship at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville.
In spite of a rigorous training regimen, Beau ended his first semester with a 3.25 GPS. His cheerleading coach was so impressed with his drive and ability that when he had to go home to recuperate from pneumonia, she arranged for makeup tests. But Dee was barely home from driving him back to school in Dec. 1999, when he called, crying, begging her to come get him. He was homesick and wanted to quit college. Against her better judgment, Dee returned to Knoxville and brought him home.
Over the next three years, it became clear that Beaus problems went far beyond immaturity. In 2001, he got a DUI and later was arrested for assault when he and his girlfriendboth intoxicated, according to Deegot into an argument that ended with Beau throwing a rock at her car. In both cases, he was given probation. Eventually, Dee had to face facts: her sons life had become about getting and using methamphetamine.
Methamphetamine, or meth, is a highly addictive central nervous system stimulant that can be injected, snorted, smoked or taken orally. Initially, users feel a short but intense "rush," and stay awake for days at a time, eating little. Prolonged use ravages the mind and body, causing a range of effects from facial sores, loss of teeth and severe anorexia to depression, paranoia and stroke.
Robert Herzfeld, prosecuting attorney for Arkansas 22nd Judicial District, has declared war on methamphetamine in Saline County. It is the number one hard-core drug in our county, he says. Rural settings, where cooking odors are less detectable, are ideal for clandestine labs. To a base of ephedrine or pseudoephedrine (found in cold and asthma medicines) meth cooks add other products, including red phosphorous, battery acid, lye, lantern fuel and antifreeze. Herzfeld says Arkansas is among the top five states in terms of meth lab arrests, and Saline is the worst county in the state.
Marty Caldwell, who bonded with Beau when they traveled with a group called Cheer Central, noticed changes after he came home from college. He was irritable, and he wasnt as big, she says. Beau had been known for his strength, literally supporting female cheerleaders in the palms of his hands. Marty told him, This isnt you, and he admitted, I need help.
Another friend, who asked to remain anonymous, saw Beau the summer of 2003. I could tell he was on something, she says. Her boyfriend, who was with her, asked who Beau was. I told him it was a friend from high school that never grew out of the partying stage.
Over the next three years, Beaus behavior became increasingly bizarre. One night, when he was living with Dee and Jimmy, she found him staring blankly at a fuzzy television screen. Another time, he told her, You need to let me shoot you up or somebody else is going to do it, and its not going to be so nice. He warned her that certain people had it in for her because she wanted Beau to stop using meth, saying, They dont want me to quit, Mom. They wont let me go. Was this meth-induced paranoia, or was Beau caught up in the countys drug underworld?
Finally, in November 2003, Beau agreed to enter a drug rehabilitation facility in Oklahoma called Narconon. The treatment, developed by Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard, includes a detoxification protocol that allegedly eliminates drug cravings.
Narconon eschews traditional 12-step programs, and Beau was not part of a recovery support group once he left the treatment center in January 2004. Even so, Dee believes he never returned to methamphetamine use. She remains convinced in spite of what she found at his apartment after she learned about his disappearance.
The door to the apartment was unlocked, lights ablaze. Neatly laid out on top of Beaus TV set were his watch, wallet and checkbook, a bank debit card and some cash. Dee found a Wal-Mart receipt in the backpack he left behind on the bed. At 1:30 on the afternoon he disappeared, he had bought a 10-pack of syringes. Later, detectives would view Beaus videotaped image as he purchased them. The packet lay unopened on the bathroom counter.
Some might see the syringes as evidence that Beau was again mainlining methamphetaminebut not Dee. She believes he was injecting steroids to bulk up his 56 frame. Some of Beaus friends tell a different story, though the truth is not easily discernible in statements that are often self-serving.
Heres what is known: At about 10 a.m., Tuesday, Aug. 17, Beau turned off on Arkansas 35 instead of following co-workers to a new job site. Three-and-a-half hours later he was standing in the checkout line at Wal-Mart in Bryant. Around four or five that afternoon, he was back on Arkansas 35 getting gas from Candice West. Where was he; what was he doing during those missing hours? Of course, the most compelling question of all is this: Where is Beau Jeremy Ramsey now?
As the Saline County Sheriffs Department continues its investigation into Beau Ramseys disappearance, Dee Tucker finds fault, and one of Beaus oldest friends becomes a person of interest.
If you know something about Beau Ramsey's whereabouts, contact the Saline County Sheriffs Department at (501) 303-5609.
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