And after hearing this recording, things started to take a turn. The long-forgotten audio, police say, was among a series of clues that led them to a 70-year-old man who lived in an apartment building in Upstate New York. “He seems to have lived a quiet life,” said Sgt. Chris Homrock, head of the Montgomery County Sheriff’s Cold Case Unit. Officials identified the suspect Wednesday as Larry David Smith of Little Falls, N.Y. In court documents, police accused him of shooting Hall on the night of Oct. 23, 1971, in a parking lot of the Manor Country Club in Rockville. At the time, Hall was working a part-time security job and, according to investigators, encountered Smith — just 19 at the time — who had just broken into a nearby home and was trying to get to his parked car in the dark. lot. She died and became the “Lady of the Christmas Tree”. Now we know her name. Hall was taken to hospital and died three days later, leaving behind a wife and two children. “Dad was a wonderful man,” Hall’s daughter Carolyn Philo, 79, said this week. “When he put on his sheriff’s uniform, he glowed.” In the early 1970s, Detectives thought Smith was someone who might know what happened to Hall, but they didn’t suspect him of being the actual perpetrator, according to court records. Investigators who revived the case last year dug through case files, found references to Smith and found an old tape of him talking to investigators in 1973. They sent the recording to the FBI, where technicians converted it into a digital format. “Clear as a bell,” said Detective Katie Leggett. Smith was captured discussing details about the shooting that police had never released, including how many times Hall was shot, according to court records. Other things about Smith stood out. He grew up near the country club. He had a criminal record, they now claim, of burglary, assault, shoplifting and escape. And he had changed his name – from Larry David Becker in the 1970s to his current name name Larry David Smith. “Investigators believe this was done intentionally to avoid any further investigation into his involvement in this offense,” detectives wrote in court documents. Investigators traced him to Upstate New York, in part through Facebook comments from a resident there who wrote about the high school in Aspen Hill, Md. Last week, Leggett and another detective, Lisa Killen, drove to Little Falls and interviewed Smith. “He admitted to accidentally shooting the Sheriff [Deputy] Hall after Hall confronted him as he was taking property from the Beverley Road burglary back to an anticipated getaway vehicle,” detectives claimed. “He was just out there doing his job,” Leggett said, noting Hall wasn’t even supposed to be working that night. “He was filling in for another guy who couldn’t get in.” Officials rejected Smith’s explanation of an accident and charged him with first-degree murder, which is punishable by life in prison in Maryland. “Jim was ambushed,” Montgomery County Sheriff Darren Popkin said Wednesday. The Case of the Lyon Brothers: A Painful Search for Justice and Answers Smith remained in custody at the Herkimer County Jail on Wednesday, according to jail officials. He is expected to be transported to Montgomery County within a week to face court proceedings. It is unclear if Smith has retained an attorney in the case. Family members declined to comment or could not be reached Wednesday. She recently lived in a nine-story public housing high-rise for elderly or disabled residents. Two residents of the building he arrived on Wednesday were stunned to hear he was charged with murder. “To me, he’s not Larry,” said June Jones, 85, who lived on the same floor as Smith. Montgomery County Police Chief Marcus Jones, praising cold case detectives Wednesday, said they had found the right man. “To get a confession for someone who committed a crime 51 years ago is a huge, huge achievement,” Jones said. Hall, known as JT, had grown up in a large family in Virginia, according to his daughter, Philo, and granddaughter, Carrie Crutcher. Many of Hall’s family members have worked as police officers or firefighters, Philo and Crutcher said. Hall chose a job as a deputy with the Montgomery County Sheriff’s Office in Maryland. Hall and his wife, Anna Louise, had two children, Carolyn and Melvin. Philo remembers that her dad was more than just a caring father and grandfather. he was also one to show up with gallons of milk during snowstorms. On October 23, 1971, a Saturday, Philo, then 28, and her young family went to her parents’ home in Wheaton, Md., for spaghetti dinner. After they arrived, the phone rang. It was an associate of her father’s who said he couldn’t work a part-time security job that night at the Manor Country Club. He asked Hall if he could fill him in. “Oh, well. Oh, sure,” said Hall, Philo remembers hearing. Hall went to work. The spaghetti dinner continued. Philo and her husband returned to their home in Damascus, Md. Their children, Carrie and Eddie, were left behind for a planned sleepover at their grandparents’ house. Later that night, Philo and her husband received a phone call. Her father had been shot and was in hospital. They ran there. The prognosis they heard was grim. When they returned the next morning, it was worse. “There’s nothing we can do,” Philo remembers one of the doctors telling them. Her father died days later. Immediately after Hall’s death, Philo and her family received many calls, visitors and help. But as time went on, attention from others decreased. “Sophomore year was just terrible,” Philo said, remembering always asking herself, “Where is everybody?” At the Montgomery County Sheriff’s Department, which was handling the case, progress stalled. Philo and her family moved to Texas. He would call Montgomery’s department’s investigative division every six months or so — checking to see if there had been any progress. From then on, Philo tried to remember her dad in life. Every morning when she passed his picture in her front hall, she would kiss her fingers and touch his picture. “Morning, Dad,” she said with a smile. “I am still here.” Over time, Philo’s greetings in her dad’s photo were combined with similar greetings to her mom, who died in 2005, and her son, who died in 2007. She continued to hope that investigators would find out who killed her father. And he hoped the suspect was still alive so he could be caught and face at least some measure of justice before his death. “I kept thinking, if I’m still alive at 79, maybe he is too,” Philo said. About a year ago, the sergeant who heads the department’s cold case team, Homrock, told her he had assigned the case to two detectives with instructions to take another serious dive into the investigation. Philo started receiving monthly updates. It was clear that detectives withheld certain details, even as they appeared to have active pursuits. Philo’s hopes grew. Last week, Philo was at the Del Webb Senior Community in McKinney, Texas, playing a dice game — Bunco — with her friends when she got a call from Homrock. “Can you talk?” asked. Philo entered a hallway. Homrock told her they had arrested a suspect. “I can’t believe it,” she told him. “Thank you.” Philo began to cry, a reaction her friends could see through the glass. They came out to check on her. “Those are happy tears!” told them. “How could I not be sentimental?” Philo later explained in an interview. Crutcher, Hall’s granddaughter, said she wonders what the suspect’s life has been like over the past five decades. She said her feelings don’t amount to full sympathy. But her Christian faith, she said, has led her to at least some level of understanding. “I can’t imagine his life was easy,” Crutcher said.
