In the annals of true crime, few names evoke as much chilling ambiguity as Ottis Toole. Linked with Henry Lee Lucas in a spree of confessions and retracted statements, Toole’s narrative is as tangled as the backroads of the American South. Spencer Bennett, a Jacksonville used car salesman, found himself unwittingly drawn into this web when detectives investigating Toole’s potential connection to the Adam Walsh murder questioned him in November 1983. Their focus? Whether Toole had acquired a “death car” from Bennett’s lot, particularly a 1971 Cadillac, a vehicle that would become strangely central to the confounding case.
Spencer Bennett, owner of Spence Auto Sales since 1961, recalled knowing Ottis Toole for years, dating back to the mid-1960s through Toole’s mother, Sarah. She was a repeat customer, buying older, less reliable cars – “clunkers” as Bennett described them – from his lot at the corner of 4th and Main. This seemingly mundane business relationship placed Bennett at the periphery of a gruesome investigation when detectives from Hollywood, Florida, arrived seeking to solidify a narrative: that Ottis Toole’s infamous 1971 Cadillac, potentially the vehicle used in unspeakable crimes, originated from Bennett’s car lot.
The detectives’ line of questioning was pointed. Had Toole bought the Cadillac from Spence Auto Sales? Had he worked for Bennett? Could the car lot have been a place where Toole parked the Cadillac or even stashed evidence? Just two months after their visit, Spencer Bennett died under what some locals considered suspicious circumstances, adding another layer of unease to the already unsettling story.
Detective Jack Hoffman led the interrogation, his approach mirroring his abrasive tactics with Ottis Toole himself. Toole, already jailed for arson, had confessed to the Adam Walsh murder after seeing a movie about the case. Hoffman, alongside Detective Buddy Terry, seemed less interested in truth than in confirmation. They pushed Toole, dismissed his answers, and steered him toward a confession that fit their preconceived narrative. Terry was later removed from the case after inappropriate conduct, highlighting the questionable methods employed.
Bennett recounted Toole’s visit to his lot months before the interrogation. Toole, then working for Betty Goodyear, who owned boarding houses in Springfield, had simply “dropped in.” This casual encounter became fodder for intense questioning as detectives tried to link Bennett, his car lot, and the Cadillac to Toole’s alleged crimes.
The setting of Spence Auto Sales itself was steeped in Jacksonville history. The small stucco building, with its Mediterranean-style touches, had started as a Standard Oil Station in 1924, reflecting the architectural trends of the era. Later, in the 1930s, it became part of William Catlin’s used car empire, a precursor to Bennett’s own business. This corner, at 4th and Main, was a Jacksonville landmark witnessing decades of city life, now entangled with a grim true crime story.
Hoffman’s interrogation of Bennett took a bizarre turn, fixating on Ottis Toole’s sexuality. He repeatedly asked Bennett if he knew Toole was homosexual, even interrupting Bennett to assert Toole’s homosexuality as “blatant.” Bennett admitted to hearing rumors but stated he hadn’t personally witnessed anything. Hoffman’s aggressive line of questioning, probing about “behavior patterns” and insisting Bennett must have known, reveals a disturbing bias in the investigation.
Bennett acknowledged seeing male prostitutes on Main Street, a common sight in Springfield, but denied seeing Toole engage in such behavior. Hoffman, seemingly determined to paint a specific picture of Toole, brushed aside Bennett’s observations, claiming everyone else in Springfield knew about Toole’s sexuality. This relentless focus on Toole’s personal life, irrelevant to the core questions of the investigation, highlights the detectives’ tunnel vision.
The questioning returned to cars, specifically the elusive Cadillac. Bennett admitted selling Toole a Plymouth in 1975 and a Cadillac around 1981 or 1982. However, he clarified that the Cadillac sold in ’81 or ’82 was taken over by Toole’s brother Howell after their mother’s death, as Ottis lacked a driver’s license. This detail becomes crucial in understanding the confusion surrounding the 1971 Cadillac. Bennett further mentioned selling Toole another car in March 1982, a Ford that Toole abandoned in Texas, still owing Bennett money.
The detectives pressed Bennett about the 1971 Cadillac specifically, the car that had become synonymous with the Adam Walsh case in the public imagination. Bennett insisted he had sold Toole a Cadillac, but it was a 1969 two-door model, white with a black top – the one taken over by Howell. He stated unequivocally he had never sold or seen Toole with a 1971 Cadillac, the very car central to the police narrative.
Adding another layer of complexity, detectives inquired about a machete. They suggested a machete, potentially the murder weapon in the Walsh case, had been found at Spence Auto Sales. Bennett acknowledged finding machetes on his lot over the years, a common occurrence in a used car business, and keeping them for safety. However, he denied any connection between these machetes and Toole or the Cadillac. The detectives seemed to be fishing for any detail, however tenuous, to link Bennett’s lot to incriminating evidence.
Detectives also probed Bennett about whether Toole and Lucas had ever worked for him, particularly in repossessing cars. Bennett vehemently denied this, despite Hoffman claiming to have a sworn statement contradicting him. This line of questioning suggests the detectives were attempting to paint Bennett as more closely connected to Toole and Lucas than he claimed, possibly to establish a motive or opportunity related to the Walsh case.
The inconsistencies in Toole’s confessions were glaring. He initially claimed to have stored the murder weapon, possibly a machete or bayonet, at his mother’s house. However, when reminded his mother’s house had burned down, he changed his story, highlighting the suggestibility and unreliability of his statements. Toole even confessed to making up the entire story after watching the movie Adam, further casting doubt on the validity of his confessions.
Crucially, despite claims of blood found in the 1971 Cadillac and on a machete, the technology for DNA testing was unavailable in 1983. By the time DNA testing became possible, both the Cadillac carpeting and the machete had been lost by police, effectively eliminating any chance of definitive forensic evidence. This loss of crucial evidence further shrouds the case in mystery and raises questions about the competence of the investigation.
In 2008, long after both Toole and Bennett had died, the Hollywood Police Department declared the Adam Walsh case “exceptionally cleared,” officially naming Ottis Toole as the murderer. This declaration came without new evidence or a trial, relying solely on Toole’s dubious confessions. The “mystery solved” headlines rang hollow, failing to address the fundamental questions about why authorities pinned the crime on Toole, a man with a history of false confessions and questionable mental capacity.
The narrative surrounding Ottis Toole and the 1971 Cadillac remains a disturbing chapter in true crime history. The interrogation of Spencer Bennett, the focus on a specific car model, and the loss of key evidence all contribute to a sense of unresolved questions. Whether the 1971 Cadillac truly belonged to Toole, whether it played any role in the Adam Walsh case, and the true nature of Spencer Bennett’s involvement remain shrouded in the murky depths of a flawed investigation, leaving us with more questions than answers on this Springfield corner where a used car lot became an unlikely stage in a macabre drama.
