Following is the final part of Gerald Cook and Faye Deal’s story about how they “blew the whistle” on Tri-State Crematory in Noble.



December 3, 2001



Cook was back at Tri-State to make another propane delivery. It was a memorable delivery, not because he saw any dead bodies, but because it was the first and only time he ever saw the crematory operating. Huge plumes of thick black smoke belched out of the crematory smokestack.

Marsh was there again watching Cook’s every move, and Cook mentioned that the crematory sure did put out a lot of smoke. Marsh said it was the body bag that caused so much smoke.

Cook was glad Marsh decided to make idle chit chat. He was prattling on about how his business had been real good, that he had been up in Tennessee soliciting business and now he had even more cremations to take care of. As Marsh chatted away, he told Cook it required 75 gallons of propane for each cremation.

Cook had only two or three brief conversations with Brent Marsh during all the years he knew the Marsh family. Brent Marsh had a niece who was the same age and in the same grade as Cook’s son. Clara Marsh had been his substitute teacher when he was in high school, and Cook would sometimes see Brent Marsh when he came by the office to pay his bill, but they had never really had conversations.



December 18, 2001



Cook was starting to get paranoid about his propane deliveries to Tri-State. When he came in the office on the morning of the 18th and saw Tri-State on his list of deliveries, a terrible sense of dread came over him. He usually tried to make the Tri-State delivery in the morning so he could get it over with, but when Marsh called the office to find out what time Cook would be making the delivery, Cook’s mind went wild.

Cook wondered if Marsh would be at the crematory lying in wait for him. Was there going to be a confrontation? After all, Cook had twice tried to get Tri-State investigated. If anyone had contacted Marsh and asked questions, Cook felt pretty sure Marsh could figure out he might be behind it — and there was no telling where that could lead.

Cook made the delivery and nothing happened, but he decided he just could not go on that way any longer. Something had to give. After the delivery on December 18, Marsh didn’t order any more propane for a while, but Cook knew it was just a matter of time before a delivery order for Tri-State would show up on his work sheet again. February came and it had been two months with no delivery. Yes, a delivery order to Tri-State seemed imminent.



February 14, 2002



More than three months had passed since Faye Deal had called the EPA to investigate, and there still did not seem to have been anything done about the situation. Cook called his aunt again and implored her to do something to help him.

Deal was stumped. Bobby Brown’s complaint to the sheriff had not gotten anything done, and her call to the EPA had garnered the same result. She saw no reason to call Frank Garcia at the EPA back; he clearly wasn’t interested. But Faye Deal was not a woman who gave up easily, and she was determined to figure a way to get someone to investigate Tri-State.

Deal was at work at the FBI office on Valentine’s Day when Robin Hedden, a special agent with the EPA’s criminal investigation division, came into the office to talk with some of the FBI agents about a case they were working on. Deal didn’t know Hedden personally, but she had seen him in the office on other occasions and thought he was “a real go-getter.” She decided she would take the matter up with Hedden.

Later that afternoon, after Hedden left, Deal got his telephone number from an FBI agent’s Rolodex and called Hedden. He had not returned to his office yet, so Deal left him an anonymous message on his answering machine. Deal spoke candidly, giving Hedden very specific information about the situation at Tri-State. Hedden took Deal’s complaint on his answering machine seriously and decided he would investigate.

And he did. The next morning, Hedden and his EPA colleague, Larry Anderson, left Atlanta and drove the 85 miles to Noble. They didn’t tell anyone they were coming and, unlike criminal investigations with other agencies, they didn’t need a search warrant to find out what they wanted to know.

The nightmare in Noble had begun.





To contact reporter Jana Cone, call 382-4321, ext. 208