THE last day of Diane McIver’s life began at the ranch she shared with her husband Claud “Tex” McIver near Eatonton, Georgia. It is a handsome property, with a large pond in front of the house, longhorn cattle, horses in a paddock, horse-head statuary at the gates. The McIvers, says Howard Sills, the local sheriff, were ornaments of the community: she was “the life of the party”, he “a gentleman” with “consummate manners”. On that Sunday—September 25th last year—they played golf on a pine-lined course beside Lake Oconee, a favourite playground of well-to-do Atlantans. Mrs McIver, a fine golfer, was on good form. They stopped at a steakhouse next to the highway for what would be her last meal, then headed into the city.
They were on the way to their condominium in a swanky tower in Buckhead, one of Atlanta’s fanciest neighbourhoods. Mrs McIver, who was 63 and president of a marketing firm, had come a...Continue reading
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