TJ
12-02-2003, 06:48 AM
http://www.gomemphis.com/mca/local_news/article/0,1426,MCA_437_2468195,00.html
On a bluff high above the Mississippi River, rusty Budweiser cans and tattered McDonald's bags are cloaked in the smell of rotting fish.
The Memphis and Arkansas Bridge looms in the background, just behind the exit ramp off Crump Boulevard that leads to Delaware Street.
A vista similar to this may well have been the last thing John Cheek ever saw.
Ten years ago today, the 28-year-old Memphis businessman vanished, possibly from this very spot.
His friends and family have never heard from him again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rob Womsley met John Cheek at the University of Chicago's graduate business school in 1991.
The two quickly became friends. They palled around the city together, with bands like U2 and R.E.M. providing the soundtrack.
They played golf together, talked endlessly about college football and basketball.
They traveled together, including trips to Belize and other faraway spots.
"We were part of an inner circle of guys at the University of Chicago who were pretty tight guys," said Womsley, a businessman with offices in Chicago and New York.
Womsley remembers Cheek as a "social, energetic" personality, a highly competitive person who didn't mind saying so.
"He was a talker. He would jaw about anything. He'd be right in your face, whether it was a putt on the golf course, or his score vs. your score on a test," he said.
But Cheek, Womsley said, was also someone who could turn goofy if the moment warranted, as on a Chicago night when friends gathered at a bar.
"He poured a whole beer on my head while he was standing on the bar," Womsley recalled, chuckling. "Rowdy drunkenness. It was a fun night."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a grueling week that involved a long business trip, the single Cheek and several business associates gathered for dinner the night of Wednesday, Dec. 1, 1993, at the former Cooker restaurant at Poplar and Ridgeway.
Much of the evening was spent discussing college basketball, particularly the University of Memphis Tigers, a team Cheek followed closely.
Around 11 that night, one of his dinner companions dropped Cheek at his black 1987 Acura Legend, parked at the Crescent Center across the street.
The next day, a Thursday, came and went, and Cheek never showed for his job as chief financial officer of The Cates Co., which managed 24 apartment complexes worth more than $100 million.
At 9 a.m. on Friday, Dec. 3, Cheek's parents filed a missing persons report. His unpacked suitcases were found in the home he'd bought at 6214 Heather in East Memphis. The garage door was open.
Around 10:40 a.m. on Dec. 4, police discovered Cheek's Acura, parked on the Delaware exit ramp, now called the Metal Museum exit. There were no signs of struggle.
Police searched the bluff and the river extensively, but never found any trace of Cheek.
Nationwide searches by friends and family - complete with "missing" posters tacked to poles and doors everywhere - turned up nothing.
A toll-free number for the public to offer clues and an episode of NBC's Unsolved Mysteries proved fruitless.
"It's very strange that he just disappeared," said Lee McWaters, a Cheek friend and Bartlett real-estate broker.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Many of those involved were reluctant to discuss Cheek's disappearance. His family - parents Richard and Arrena and sister Lucy - all declined to talk, saying the subject remains too painful.
A reluctant McWaters finally decided to speak about their friendship.
The pair attended both Memphis University School and Southern Methodist University in Dallas, joining the same fraternity at SMU.
Their friendship grew in college, in part because they were both Memphians, far from home.
McWaters remembers Cheek as both a "driven and successful" academic and a social person.
"I think (he was) driven in a good way," McWaters said. "I don't think he was driven to the point where he didn't know how to have fun."
When they returned to Memphis, the pair drifted apart, although they'd still see each other at Tiger basketball games or social gatherings.
McWaters still doesn't know what happened to his friend, and 10 years later, he retains some sliver of hope.
"The good thing about hope is that you have hope," he said. "The bad thing is you still lay awake at night, wondering. There's no closure."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When he disappeared, Cheek was under an enormous amount of pressure.
The Cates Co. was planning a conversion to a real estate investment trust called Mid-America Apartment Communities. The deal would push Cheek's annual salary to $110,000, plus stock and options worth about $2 million.
Just before his disappearance, Cheek took a whirlwind, three-day trip to Milwaukee, Denver and Portland, Ore., to work on the deal.
When he returned to Memphis, he went straight to his office, telling colleagues he had been awake for 72 hours at one point.
During this time, something went awry with the deal, according to Memphis attorney John Good, who spent several months working closely with Cheek on the project.
Beyond calling it a "tax issue that was resolved," Good declined to say exactly what went wrong.
But he did say that it affected Cheek greatly, causing him to leave the business trip and catch a late-night flight to Memphis.
"He was very down about the fact that we had a problem with the deal," Good said. "He was almost despondent. I'd say extremely depressed."
After Cheek's disappearance, the deal eventually went through.
Company owner George Cates, who hired Cheek for the position, says an audit found nothing wrong.
"They did an exhaustive audit, and not a pencil was missing. There was no hint of wrongdoing and of course there wasn't," Cates said. "He did a great job. He did the job wonderfully when he was there. He left a great legacy."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Those familiar with the case think one of three things may have happened to Cheek:
He committed suicide, probably by leaping into the river.
He was the victim of violence.
He's an amnesiac, lost in a "fugue state" waiting to be rediscovered.
Private investigator J. D. Douglas, a retired Memphis Police Department homicide commander, was hired by Cheek's parents.
He spent several months on the case, studying every clue, reading every report, interviewing numerous people.
After 10 years, he's come to one conclusion.
"I think he went off the bridge," Douglas said. "For this period of time, it's awfully hard for anybody to hide."
If that happened, it's not uncommon that a body may never be found, the Memphis branch of the Coast Guard said.
"If someone is not found or surfaces within three or four days, then there's a high probability that we might not be able to find them," chief warrant officer Jim Simmons said.
Cates, though, just can't believe Cheek would kill himself.
"I always thought it was a phenomenal disservice to John by those who thought it was a suicide," he said. "I've always felt that there was foul play there, but no one will ever know."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Cheek case has been dormant for several years, said Capt. John Wilburn, head of MPD's missing persons bureau. In August 2000, Cheek was legally declared dead in Chancery Court.
Friends and family have moved on, although Cheek still plays a role in each of their lives, no matter how small.
Every morning, Womsley looks at a picture taken during their trip to Belize, still tucked into his dresser. The picture shows a group of young men, happy, sitting on a boat.
"The first couple of years, I'd walk around on vacations and look over my shoulder, hoping to see John," Womsley said. "I still do it, see somebody out of the corner of my eye who looks like John. I still check it out to see if it's him."
On a bluff high above the Mississippi River, rusty Budweiser cans and tattered McDonald's bags are cloaked in the smell of rotting fish.
The Memphis and Arkansas Bridge looms in the background, just behind the exit ramp off Crump Boulevard that leads to Delaware Street.
A vista similar to this may well have been the last thing John Cheek ever saw.
Ten years ago today, the 28-year-old Memphis businessman vanished, possibly from this very spot.
His friends and family have never heard from him again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rob Womsley met John Cheek at the University of Chicago's graduate business school in 1991.
The two quickly became friends. They palled around the city together, with bands like U2 and R.E.M. providing the soundtrack.
They played golf together, talked endlessly about college football and basketball.
They traveled together, including trips to Belize and other faraway spots.
"We were part of an inner circle of guys at the University of Chicago who were pretty tight guys," said Womsley, a businessman with offices in Chicago and New York.
Womsley remembers Cheek as a "social, energetic" personality, a highly competitive person who didn't mind saying so.
"He was a talker. He would jaw about anything. He'd be right in your face, whether it was a putt on the golf course, or his score vs. your score on a test," he said.
But Cheek, Womsley said, was also someone who could turn goofy if the moment warranted, as on a Chicago night when friends gathered at a bar.
"He poured a whole beer on my head while he was standing on the bar," Womsley recalled, chuckling. "Rowdy drunkenness. It was a fun night."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a grueling week that involved a long business trip, the single Cheek and several business associates gathered for dinner the night of Wednesday, Dec. 1, 1993, at the former Cooker restaurant at Poplar and Ridgeway.
Much of the evening was spent discussing college basketball, particularly the University of Memphis Tigers, a team Cheek followed closely.
Around 11 that night, one of his dinner companions dropped Cheek at his black 1987 Acura Legend, parked at the Crescent Center across the street.
The next day, a Thursday, came and went, and Cheek never showed for his job as chief financial officer of The Cates Co., which managed 24 apartment complexes worth more than $100 million.
At 9 a.m. on Friday, Dec. 3, Cheek's parents filed a missing persons report. His unpacked suitcases were found in the home he'd bought at 6214 Heather in East Memphis. The garage door was open.
Around 10:40 a.m. on Dec. 4, police discovered Cheek's Acura, parked on the Delaware exit ramp, now called the Metal Museum exit. There were no signs of struggle.
Police searched the bluff and the river extensively, but never found any trace of Cheek.
Nationwide searches by friends and family - complete with "missing" posters tacked to poles and doors everywhere - turned up nothing.
A toll-free number for the public to offer clues and an episode of NBC's Unsolved Mysteries proved fruitless.
"It's very strange that he just disappeared," said Lee McWaters, a Cheek friend and Bartlett real-estate broker.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Many of those involved were reluctant to discuss Cheek's disappearance. His family - parents Richard and Arrena and sister Lucy - all declined to talk, saying the subject remains too painful.
A reluctant McWaters finally decided to speak about their friendship.
The pair attended both Memphis University School and Southern Methodist University in Dallas, joining the same fraternity at SMU.
Their friendship grew in college, in part because they were both Memphians, far from home.
McWaters remembers Cheek as both a "driven and successful" academic and a social person.
"I think (he was) driven in a good way," McWaters said. "I don't think he was driven to the point where he didn't know how to have fun."
When they returned to Memphis, the pair drifted apart, although they'd still see each other at Tiger basketball games or social gatherings.
McWaters still doesn't know what happened to his friend, and 10 years later, he retains some sliver of hope.
"The good thing about hope is that you have hope," he said. "The bad thing is you still lay awake at night, wondering. There's no closure."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When he disappeared, Cheek was under an enormous amount of pressure.
The Cates Co. was planning a conversion to a real estate investment trust called Mid-America Apartment Communities. The deal would push Cheek's annual salary to $110,000, plus stock and options worth about $2 million.
Just before his disappearance, Cheek took a whirlwind, three-day trip to Milwaukee, Denver and Portland, Ore., to work on the deal.
When he returned to Memphis, he went straight to his office, telling colleagues he had been awake for 72 hours at one point.
During this time, something went awry with the deal, according to Memphis attorney John Good, who spent several months working closely with Cheek on the project.
Beyond calling it a "tax issue that was resolved," Good declined to say exactly what went wrong.
But he did say that it affected Cheek greatly, causing him to leave the business trip and catch a late-night flight to Memphis.
"He was very down about the fact that we had a problem with the deal," Good said. "He was almost despondent. I'd say extremely depressed."
After Cheek's disappearance, the deal eventually went through.
Company owner George Cates, who hired Cheek for the position, says an audit found nothing wrong.
"They did an exhaustive audit, and not a pencil was missing. There was no hint of wrongdoing and of course there wasn't," Cates said. "He did a great job. He did the job wonderfully when he was there. He left a great legacy."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Those familiar with the case think one of three things may have happened to Cheek:
He committed suicide, probably by leaping into the river.
He was the victim of violence.
He's an amnesiac, lost in a "fugue state" waiting to be rediscovered.
Private investigator J. D. Douglas, a retired Memphis Police Department homicide commander, was hired by Cheek's parents.
He spent several months on the case, studying every clue, reading every report, interviewing numerous people.
After 10 years, he's come to one conclusion.
"I think he went off the bridge," Douglas said. "For this period of time, it's awfully hard for anybody to hide."
If that happened, it's not uncommon that a body may never be found, the Memphis branch of the Coast Guard said.
"If someone is not found or surfaces within three or four days, then there's a high probability that we might not be able to find them," chief warrant officer Jim Simmons said.
Cates, though, just can't believe Cheek would kill himself.
"I always thought it was a phenomenal disservice to John by those who thought it was a suicide," he said. "I've always felt that there was foul play there, but no one will ever know."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Cheek case has been dormant for several years, said Capt. John Wilburn, head of MPD's missing persons bureau. In August 2000, Cheek was legally declared dead in Chancery Court.
Friends and family have moved on, although Cheek still plays a role in each of their lives, no matter how small.
Every morning, Womsley looks at a picture taken during their trip to Belize, still tucked into his dresser. The picture shows a group of young men, happy, sitting on a boat.
"The first couple of years, I'd walk around on vacations and look over my shoulder, hoping to see John," Womsley said. "I still do it, see somebody out of the corner of my eye who looks like John. I still check it out to see if it's him."