With a master’s in criminal justice from the University of Alabama, a bachelor’s from Auburn University, Moran had been involved in firearms and toolmark investigation since 1990. He lectured and taught firearms courses. Few men in Moran’s trade were more experienced.

“There are two types of markings I look for,” Moran explained, referring to the science of figuring out if two bullets had been fired from the same weapon barrel. “The first markings are called general rifling characteristics. That would include the number of lands and grooves on the bullet, and the widths of the lands and grooves, and the directions of twists.”

A bullet slides through the barrel of a gun, twisting and turning its way out, spiraling toward its intended target. This causes “special” tool marks left on the outer part of the jacket of the projectile. Think of a barber’s red-and-white swizzle stick spinning outside his shop—that candy-cane-like pattern of stripes.

Same thing.

“Lands and grooves,” Moran continued, “are machined onto the inner surface of the inside part of the barrel during the course of manufacture. They can be likened to ridges or valleys on the inside of the barrel.”

Simple science. After all, no manufacturer can machine lands and grooves identical in each barrel. It’s impossible.

“I cannot make a positive identification that two bullets were fired out of the same gun,” Moran said, clearing up an assumption that television has promulgated into a fact of forensic science. “But I could eliminate whether two bullets were fired through the same barrel.”

If, for example, a bullet had six lands and grooves, Moran said, which turn (or spiral) to the right, and a barrel has five lands and grooves rotating to the left, “there’s no way that bullet could have been fired through that barrel.”

Simple math.

There are also microscopic striations machined into the inner surface of a barrel during manufacturing. These cannot be duplicated.

“Those markings are to be likened,” Moran insisted, “to a human fingerprint.”

Moran lined up the bullets inside two microscopes. The one on the right was from Alan’s wrist. The bullet struck Alan’s watch, which slowed its trajectory, ultimately lodging into his wrist. A fragment of that projectile was found underneath Alan’s body. If Alan had not been wearing a watch, the bullet would have gone through his wrist, and might not have ever been found.

The bullet on Moran’s left was from the floor of the McCord garage.

Moran explained what he found: “When you look at this . . . I think we can somewhat readily see that the striations match up precisely. . . .”

Like a hand in a glove.

In Moran’s opinion, which seemed to be backed up by the evidence, he was certain that the bullet extracted from Alan’s wrist and the bullet located on the floor of the McCord garage had been fired from the same barrel. Moran guessed a Remington Peters—a gun, incidentally, that had not been recovered from the McCord home among Jeff’s large cache of weapons.

As the investigation picked up steam in Alabama, a report came in from Georgia. There was a good reason why that particular pattern of paper towels had not been found in an approximately fifty-mile radius of the Georgia crime scene. Those particular paper towels were sold in the Birmingham region of the country.

27

Alan and Terra enjoyed the serenity of being in a mature relationship. They respected each other. Cared how the other felt. Talked things through like adults. This was new to Alan, who had lived a life of “romantic” hell for as long as he could remember.

Jessica, meanwhile, was busy holding on to Cupid’s arrow for dear life, following it wherever the path led. If Alan had gone out and landed himself a catch with Terra, Jessica needed to find herself a man. Someone she could flaunt in Alan’s face. Someone who could help her achieve whatever goals in life she now had.

Near the fall of 1995, Jessica visited the Lion & Unicorn Comics Games & Cards store on Lorna Road, not too far from her mother’s house. It was one of those hobby shop/comic-book stores that sold various types of fantasy gaming items and other collectibles. It also advertised a line of vintage comic books and baseball cards.

Jessica later said she hung out in the store because she got involved in playing a game called Magic: The Gathering. (The game falls in line with the idea behind Lord of the Rings.)

It was a role-playing game—an appealing proposition to those who partake in fantasy, but also have an inherent need to control things. Essentially, Magic was the genre-breaking first in a series of card games that involved an ongoing plot, forcing players to buy additional products in order to continue playing the game competitively. An ingenious invention, in terms of marketing. The game was introduced in 1993 by a mathematician. The game revolves around your typical “good versus evil” plotline, in which wizards go up against “the dark side.” Some liken it to an updated version of the popular 1980s phenomenon Dungeons & Dragons.

Jessica had other ideas, however, for heading into Lion & Unicorn. A man worked behind the counter, Brad Tabor (pseudonym), in whom she apparently saw potential. Brad lived alone and was content in his job at the card shop.

No one could understand why Jessica was attracted to the guy—that is, until it was later learned that Jessica believed Brad was going to one day inherit some money. Then it made sense: that “entrepreneurial” side of Jessica, in a perpetual state of looking for a free ride, a sugar daddy.

From Jessica’s perspective, Brad fit into that mold.

Near January 1, 1996, Jessica and Brad started dating. Brad was taken with this attractive young woman who seemed to be not only full of herself, but confident, strong-willed and full of sexuality. To his surprise and delight, she was also into him.

Jessica knew how to manage what she had; she could doll herself up to look eye-catching and trashy hot. She owned the spotlight when she walked into that store, unafraid to shake her “thang” and play into whatever sliver of sexual sparkle she could conjure.

When Brad asked, Jessica said she had been married once and went through a divorce “several years prior.”

It would be the first of many lies that Brad would soon hear.

Brad got Jessica a job at the Lion & Unicorn. They began spending time together. Brad liked Jessica. To him, she was a hot chick without kids who seemed to be interested in the same things he was. What was there not to like?

Indeed, Jessica failed to mention up front that she had two kids at home (or, rather, staying at her mother’s house). Brad never suspected she was lying. Why would he?

In the years following, like most things in her life, Jessica viewed her relationship with Brad in a different light: “We slept together and dated,” she said in court, “and the order varied. It was an on-and-off thing.”

Not true. According to one of Jessica’s former friends, as soon as Jessica and Brad started hanging out and working together, and Jessica found out Brad was going to “come into some money,” she was all over the guy. She started sleeping with him voluntarily. He didn’t need to work at it.

Ask Jessica, however, and you come up with a different version of how they met. “I worked there. And he worked there on occasion and came in basically to see who the girl was that was working in the store, because it was very unusual. And we became associated because we both played a game called Magic.”

Setting aside the truth of how they met, regarding the idea that Jessica failed to tell Brad she had children, she said: “That’s not true. I had been warned not to date him because he did not like children.”