What a thrilling drug love is that?
Love at first sight that sees only perfection, that hears in the lover the sweetest of all voices, the heart that swells and is overcome.
Oh, and the brain, of course, the brain that edits out the inconvenient bits.
Lovers tend to see only what they want to see, only show what they want to have seen.
Little wonder, then that when crisis comes, as crisis always does, some are surprised to find a stranger lurking behind their lover's face.
A mean, venal, and conniving character.
Chris and Nancy lay them at hope to avoid all that.
An amicable no-contest divorce was what they had in mind.
But emotions at the bitter end of love had another idea.
Eighteen months after their breakup began, they were at each other's throats, hurling accusations of infidelity, fighting tooth and nail over money.
No longer lovers, they were now bitter enemies.
Any love that I had for him was gone.
I don't know of anyone that's gone through an easy divorce.
No, but this one was uglier than most and more public.
Nancy claimed Chris engineered her dismissal from a real estate firm.
Chris accused Nancy and her friends of trying to ruin his reputation.
I was constantly being attacked by her in public, by what she was saying to friends and to mutual acquaintances.
But I never, I never once said anything negative.
He is so very cognizant of his reputation and his standing in the community.
And to have his wife sort of put all of his dirty laundry on display.
A nasty divorce?
Oh, yes.
One in which public humiliation was not just an unfortunate byproduct.
It was the goal.
That's when Nancy rained the storm down on me.
This is the story of two people so committed to winning that a viable strategy became murder.
Murder.
It's also the story of a tortured soul whose job was to do the ugly deed.
I knew that the murder was supposed to have been done by that date, but it couldn't be done after that.
In this episode, you will hear the plotters planning their hit.
And you'll hear from the federal agents who uncovered a conspiracy and searched for the plot's mastermind.
And 26 years in law enforcement, it's the first one I've ever gotten like that.
About a murder for hire.
About a murder for hire that was in play.
I'm Keith Morrison, and this is the second episode of Murder and Magnolias, a podcast from Dateline.
No one likes the sound of a ringing phone in the middle of the night.
Bobby Callahan is no exception.
But when you're the new guy at the Federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms in Charleston, South Carolina, that kind of thing goes with the job.
About 430 in the morning on April 5th I got a phone call from the North Charleston Police Department.
Callahan staggered out into the hallway so as not to disturb his sleeping wife.
The voice on the other end said the local cops had a guy down at the station who claimed he was part of a murder plot.
Ex-con from Kentucky, the voice said, brought a gun across state lines.
That made it a federal case.
He said there was information pertaining to that murder for hire in his hotel room.
So he asked if I'd come out and give him a hand and take a look at what they had.
So I did.
Wide awake now, Callahan drove.
Even without traffic it was a good 20 to 25 minutes to the Days Inn in North Charleston where he parked the car and made his way through the gaggle of local cops milling around outside room 132.
What did the room look like?
It was disheveled.
It was like they had literally came in, thrown everything about, clothes all over.
There was drug paraphernalia on the bedside tables.
It was a mess.
The room's two beds looked like they'd been at war with each other.
They were kept apart by a small honey-colored nightstand, the one with the drug paraphernalia scattered on top.
Right underneath there was a drawer, and there it was again.
The Manila envelope, right where Aaron Wilkinson said it would be.
At that point.
That's when I realized that this appeared to be a legitimate murder for hire, which could entail quite an extensive investigation.
So that's when I called Agent Boykin to assist.
I believe Bobby called me about 6, 6.30 in the morning.
That's the voice of ATF Special Agent Joe Boykin.
I also was asleep, and...
A little disbelief.
It was a lot to take in at that hour.
The idea of an alleged hitman confessing to a crime that hadn't happened yet.
But Boykin was game.
Bobby had an opportunity to go in and see a package.
He had seen enough to know that something was going on.
And so I was looking for a chance to interview the fellow they had in custody, to see what he had to say.
The two agents were a study in contrasts.
Callahan, the new guy with a boyish look.
His military haircut and close-cropped beard failed to conceal
Boykin in his 50s, big and talkative and often undercover, had adopted the look of an aging biker grey goatee and hair down to his shoulders.
Boykin was established, experienced, 26 years in law enforcement.
He would take the lead.
His first stop was the North Charleston police station, where Aaron Wilkinson was waiting in an interview room.
Hi, Aaron.
So this guy who hadn't slept all night, who had been taking heroin, who was having withdrawals, you're interviewing him and asking him detailed questions.
Yes.
So what do you think when he's spinning this tale, but he's obviously kind of half there?
Well initially, even despite his demeanor, having been on drugs and coming off of them, he was very lucid and had a lot of clarity.
After more than an hour with Aaron Wilkinson, Boykin was beginning to think Aaron just might be telling the truth.
Still, he wanted to see the hit packet himself.
So, with Aaron in the back seat, Agent Boykin drove out to the Days Inn, where he finally got a look at what was inside the manila envelope.
And just like that, Boykin became a believer.
There were pages and pages of maps and photos.
Photos of the person the hitmen were supposed to rub out.
The photos were of Nancy Latham.
Inside the package was a pretty comprehensive list about Nancy Latham.
No doubt, this woman was marked for death.
The instruction list seemed designed to ensure that even a bozo would know just where to go and what to do to ensure Nancy Latham would cease to exist.
It included her age, her car, her license plate.
It spoke about her children, also other folks that were residing with her at the time.
And where they might be.
Yes.
And also how she came and went from her neighborhood and what grocery store she even shopped at.
Huh.
I'll be darned.
Let me see.
So that's information about her.
What's this stuff?
Like some addresses here?
That was Ms.
Latham's address, where she was living at the time, one of the locations where the hit was purported to have taken place.
Okay.
Oh, and there's her and her daughter.
Looking all innocent.
Yes.
That was a family photo.
Nothing in the material identified its author, but the agents did know one thing for certain.
Aaron Wilkinson had not been lying about a plot to kill someone in Charleston.
This was our first thing that we were able to corroborate based on what Aaron Wilkinson had told us.
That's the voice of Agent Callahan again.
Everything up to that point was just a story that he had told, and this was the first real piece of evidence that we found that corroborated what he had been telling us.
Now both agents knew they had to stop a murder.
If Aaron Wilkinson was telling the truth, at least one would-be killer that Sam Yenawine character was still out there somewhere.
He or someone else unknown could act anytime.
Aaron Wilkinson was himself getting nervous.
The cops had his phone and too much time had passed since he last texted or called Sammy with an update.
He told the agents if he didn't contact Sammy soon, Sammy might suspect something was up.
He might even be on the way to Charleston at that very minute to finish the job himself.
Are you okay?
I asked him to make the undercover call to record Sammy and to get incriminating information from Sammy regarding his participation in this plot.
He didn't want to do it.
He was reluctant.
They wrote on paper several things to try to get me to elicit from Sammy.
That is Aaron Wilkinson.
One being to either talk about killing or murder in the phone call. to talk about the firearm.
And I think he was afraid, you know, to set Sammy up, at least, you know, initially.
And it took a little convincing to get him to make that call.
There's an undercover phone call made to an individual known as Sammy.
The recording was not the best, over-modulated, hard to understand at times.
Hello?
I'm Samuel.
I'm still the same person I was.
Aaron made his story sound plausible.
He'd had eyes on Nancy for a few days now.
He lied.
But he hadn't been able to get a clean shot at her.
Nancy Latham always seemed to have someone with her.
Either her daughter, Maddie, or a guy who seemed to be a friend of the family.
So Aaron wanted the clarification first.
Was it okay to kill people not named Nancy?
Can I pop it with him in the car?
I don't know what else to do.
This was good.
In a matter of minutes Aaron had gotten Sammy to talk about just about everything on the agent's list.
Everything but the gun.
And then he did that, too.
Yeah, I mean, why wouldn't you?
When I asked him about what he wanted me to do with the firearm, he stopped, I think, for a moment.
I think he did feel like something was fishy to be talking about so many different things.
He knows I'm not dumb.
He knows that I wouldn't come back to Louisville with a murder weapon in the car.
I think, yeah, I think for a moment he did know that something wasn't right.
I then suggested if he wanted me to just throw it in the water.
And he said, yeah, that would be the best.
Why wouldn't I?
That call was golden.
The agents called Louisville ATF and asked them to track down Sam Yenawine and keep an eye on him 24-7.
Well, they tried to find the person who hired him.
They knew.
The person who'd given Aaron that manila envelope filled with instructions for murder was a woman.
They'd have to find her, too.
But first, there was another woman they had to find.
Nancy Latham needed to know somebody wanted her dead.
ASAP.
Nancy Latham sighed softly as she stepped into the tub and eased under the deliciously warm water.
A long soak was just what she needed.
All week she'd been unpacking boxes at the new home she'd rented for her and her girls.
A few blocks away, the big house she'd once shared with Chris Latham stood empty, waiting for a new family to move in.
Now, at 7 a.m. on a Friday, another busy day loomed.
There were more boxes to unpack and put away, of course, but that was not the day's top priority.
No, Maddie, her youngest... had a dress fitting appointment at nine.
The prom was still six weeks away, but for Maddie, this fitting was a matter of some urgency.
Nancy knew that feeling of anticipation, of wanting and waiting for something so long that it became a kind of obsession.
For Nancy, that thing was divorce.
For 18 months, she and her husband had waged an uncivil war over money, over property, over blame.
But now, the end was near.
On Monday the divorce trial would begin, and Nancy and her lawyer were prepared to go to war in open court.
Nancy couldn't wait.
But her thoughts of victory were suddenly interrupted when Maddy opened the bathroom door.
Madison came in and said, mom, there are two police officers at the door.
She said, but they said for you not to panic.
And I said well Maddie, if there are two police officers at the door at eight o'clock in the morning, it's not good.
And I jumped out of the tub and I put on my big, heavy marshmallow robe and threw a towel on my head and kind of peeked out the door.
And I said, can I help you with something?
The two cops filled the doorframe.
They were big and burly.
One was in uniform and wearing a bulky holster strapped around his waist.
The other was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt and a windbreaker.
That one flashed the badge that said ATF.
No need to panic, the cop said.
We just need to have a word.
They said, take your time, go upstairs, get some clothes on and come back downstairs.
So there was coffee on and I told them to help themselves.
And they sat in the den.
I got ready, came back down.
And they said, is there any reason that somebody would want to hurt you?
And I kind of laughed and said, well, my husband's not very fond of me right now.
We're in the middle of a nasty divorce.
And they said, well, tell me about that.
So Nancy briefly recounted the 18-month-long chess match of secrets and power plays that had come to define her relationship with Chris Latham.
Nasty, oh yes.
They had both done horrible and spiteful things to each other.
But all that paled in comparison to what she heard next.
I said, well, ma'am, we need to tell you that apparently there's been a hit taken out on you.
Yeah, really?
Is that the story you're going to try to sell me this morning?
And they were like, no, ma'am, it's very serious.
There's been a hit taken out on you.
We need you and your daughter to get your stuff together and pack a bag.
We need to get you out of the house because this is where the hit was supposed to take place.
And I said well, I'm not sure what your day entails, but my daughter's getting fitted for a prom dress.
We made this appointment a long time ago.
Can't change, it needs to be done.
We're going to get fitted for a prom dress.
Nancy's older daughter emily, was away at college.
So nancy and maddie threw a few things into overnight bags, didn't know where they were going, didn't know how long they'd stay.
But as they were headed out the door, one of the cops told nancy ma'am, I know that you really aren't absorbing this right now and you want to go get fitted for this prom dress, but you need to know that you are not going to be out of my sight.
You'll be with an officer from here on out until we figure out what's going on and how far reaching this is.
So we headed off to get the prom dress fitted and there's a police officer following us.
The cops had warned Nancy not to alert anybody.
But Nancy promptly ignored that.
Well, in the car, she called her best friend, Kathy Harrell.
It was Friday morning.
My phone rang.
It was Nancy.
That's Kathy Harrell.
She said, Kathy, I need you to come get Maddie and keep her safe.
And I said, what are you talking about?
She said, I can't tell you anything.
She said, just please leave.
Come get Maddie.
Kathy wasted no time.
She quickly pulled her blonde hair back into a low ponytail and slipped on some ballet slippers and a black cardigan and headed out the door.
Oh, and one more thing.
I have a concealed weapons permit, and so I got my gun.
Well, we go get fitted for the prom dress.
Took all of two seconds.
Ended up going to the town of Mount Pleasant Police Department.
On the way over, I called Kathy and said, we're headed to the police department.
She said, I'm on my way, I'll meet you there.
And I went and got in the car and drove her over to the police department and Nancy and Maddie And one of their officers met me in the parking lot.
She's pulling into the parking lot kind of like a Tasmanian devil, and then she jumps out of the car.
And I said, Maddie, get in.
And once Maddie was in and the door was closed, Kathy looked at me and she said you have to tell me what's going on.
And that was when the officer had told Nancy she could tell me a little of what was going on.
What did you think?
I was in shock.
My mind was racing.
Couldn't believe that someone had been hired to kill her.
She was surprisingly calm.
And she had her gun out on the seat of her car.
And she said, I've got my concealed weapons permit.
I've got my gun.
I've got Maddie.
She said, I got her.
I'll keep her safe.
And I knew if anybody would take a hit for my daughter, it would be Kathy, and so Maddie drove off with her, and I felt incredibly relieved, because at that point I felt like I only had to worry about myself.
Well, maybe not.
There was Emily too, out of town at college, except they told nasty that somebody from law enforcement was going to pick Emily up from college and drive her home, And that Nancy and her girls were going to be surrounded day and night by cops.
But just for a day or two, they said.
Just until the bad guys were arrested.
I personally was very terrified.
And initially you're in shock.
But even the ATF officers had said...
We don't know how deep the rabbit hole is.
We don't know were there other people involved.
Emily Latham was living the blissful life of a college student who knew she had no classes that day when her phone rang.
Her caller ID read MOM.
I was actually in my pajamas playing a video game when I got a call from my mom that I was going to be picked up by a South Carolina police officer and I was going to be escorted to the safe house where we would be staying.
And I didn't really have much information.
She said that someone had been hired to kill her, and that was the only information I got.
Emily was alone.
Suddenly confused, very afraid.
A few hours later, a female police officer arrived at her dorm room.
I was told to pack.
I didn't know for how long.
I grabbed some clothes, filled a suitcase and then this woman she was very nice and very sweet took me to where my mom and my sister were.
Six hours in a car with a stranger and some very dark thinking.
I was feeling a lot of emotions.
I was scared because I didn't know if our lives were still in any danger.
I was shocked because you don't expect to get a phone call saying someone's taken a hit out on your mom's life.
I had to eventually actually leave school for the rest of the year.
My school told me that I was a danger by being on campus, so they made me leave.
It was about midnight when Emily was reunited with her mother and sister at the home of Nancy's best friend, Kathy Harrell.
The house was surrounded by police cars.
Cops stood guard at the door.
Inside, more cops with guns stood near windows, peering out into the dark.
There was much to tell Emily.
Earlier in that evening, Nancy had met the ATF agents who were handling the case.
Bobby Callahan, Nancy remembered, fit the imagined image.
Clean cut and fit.
Joe Boykin, on the other hand, looked like he'd just parked his Harley.
Jeans and cowboy boots, a scruffy beard and long stringy hair.
I remember when he came in, I looked at Kathy and I said oh my gosh, I think that's the guy who's coming to kill me.
And, you know, we just kind of laughed about it.
Joe had longer hair at the time and looked kind of gruff.
But he introduced himself and said, I need you to look at some stuff and tell me what you think.
With that, Joe Boykin dropped a manila envelope on Kathy Harrell's kitchen table.
The hit packet they'd recovered from Erin Wilkinson's hotel room.
Nancy Latham's a tough lady and I've been around her enough in this case to see that side of her and she's resilient.
That's the voice of ATF agent Joe Boykin.
But she was very vulnerable and very fragile on that evening.
It's not every day that somebody comes and tells you that there's a well-developed and underway plot to end your life.
She was upset, to say the least, but...
She was able to shed a lot of light on that hit package.
And the very first thing that I saw was my address handwritten on a piece of paper.
And the handwriting that was written out, I will never forget, I grabbed Joe's arm and I said...
That is my husband's handwriting.
I said, he is the only grown-up I know that writes in all caps.
That is my husband's handwriting.
He said, are you sure?
I said, I am positive that is his handwriting.
Nancy was so sure in the moment.
But no, the handwriting was not the smoking gun she'd hoped it would be.
Was Chris's handwriting found?
It was not determined to be Chris's, but there was some handwriting in there that Aaron Wilkinson admitted that he wrote.
What did Aaron write?
It was the address for the Sullivan County Courthouse which seemed a bit strange, but Nancy had attended a court hearing there on Tuesday.
So what did that mean?
Amid the maps and diagrams, Nancy also noticed an odd shot of her car parked in her driveway.
Her husband had taken that picture.
She was sure of it.
She remembered the night it was taken.
It was the night Chris had insisted on taking Maddie out to dinner and a performance of Cirque du Soleil.
We knew that that coincided with that night, because he's in the wrong lane of traffic and up against the driveway.
And he took it.
It was on his phone, he did it.
And it was in the hit packet.
As Nancy and Joe Boykin bent over the hit packet's contents, Nancy's jaw dropped.
There on the table was a portion of that photo from the Japanese steakhouse the last family picture ever taken of the Lathams.
Surely, Nancy thought, her husband had a hand in this.
That much seemed obvious.
In the picture was Emily, Chris, myself, and Madison.
And he had taken that picture, which was my picture.
It was taken at my birthday, given to me.
I was the only person that had the picture.
I had turned it over to him as a divorce exhibit.
He had taken that picture and folded over himself and Emily or cut it out of the picture.
It felt like somebody had kicked me in the stomach, because I then realized with absolute certainty that he knew Emily wouldn't be in the house, but there was still a description of her in the hip packet.
There was a description of me.
There was a description of Madison.
There was a description of my daughter's best friend, Jake, who stayed with us some.
The meaning for Nancy seemed crystal clear.
Her husband wanted her dead.
Yes, but to her mind, he must also have been willing to have his daughter and her friend die.
Collateral damage if it came to that.
He was essentially saying, these are the two people that are going to be in the house.
Do whatever you have to do.
And As a parent, I cannot understand that.
Why?
Okay, you want to put her description in and say avoid her, but you put her picture in, knowing that she was going to be upstairs asleep in the house.
The look on Nancy's face when she said that to me seemed to reveal a deep and abiding pain.
Her lips were pressed tight.
Her blue eyes were brimming.
This is one of those times where I'd tell a joke.
But no, this could not be deflected by her trademark humor.
This was where the fear lived.
What if Sammy Yenawine, the original hitman, had not argued with his wife and gone back to Kentucky?
What if, Nancy wondered, It had all happened as she now believed her husband must have intended.
I think the best case scenario for me would have been if he would have walked up to the bed and shot me point-blank range and killed me instantly.
My fear is that I would have heard some movement, because I'm a light sleeper and I would have gotten up, maybe screamed, and that Sammy, instead of killing me, would have shot me and that I lay as I lay on the ground bleeding, breathing my last breath of air, that I would have to listen as they shot my daughter Madison.
And that is something that I will never, ever be able to forgive him for.
Investigators, too, felt sure that Chris Latham was somehow involved.
What they didn't know was this.
How did a blue-ribbon Charleston banker get involved with an ex-con like Sammy Yenawine?
And who was the woman who met Aaron Wilkinson and Sammy at the beach house, The woman who'd handed Sammy money and the hit packet?
Next on Murder and Magnolias.
She was not a person that had a criminal background.
We had every belief that she was going to surrender herself.
I couldn't leave my children behind.
So we all went to get groceries.
No man left behind.
I mean, nobody stayed by themselves ever.
Murder and Magnolias is a production of Dateline and NBC News.
Tim Beecham is the producer.
Brian Drew is the audio editor.
Thomas Kemmon is assistant audio editor.
Keone Reed and Reese Washington are associate producers.
Susan Nall is senior producer.
Adam Gorfain is co-executive producer.
Liz Cole is executive producer.
And David Corvo is senior executive producer.
From NBC News Audio, Bryson Barnes is technical director, sound mixing by Bob Mallory.
Nina Bisbano is associate producer.
