Justice for TC

Popular Slain Musician’s Friends Still Seeking Answers

By Kristal Kuykendall | Originally published in Sync Weekly, 6-17-2015

Six months have now passed since the murder of Terry Charles “T.C.” Edwards, a much-loved Little Rock musician who had autism, a quirky but friendly personality, and thousands of fans and friends in the neighborhoods he frequented on foot.

Edwards, who was a familiar figure to many thanks to his daily walking route from his apartment downtown through the Stifft Sta-tion, Capitol View and Hillcrest areas, was found dead at an abandoned home on Howard Street, shot in the head, in the wee hours of Dec. 5, 2014 — about 30 minutes after he’d left his friends at Pizza D’Action to walk home. He was 43.

With no information from police on a possible suspect, no arrest in the case and no charges filed, his enormous family of friends is filling the hole in its collective heart by continuing to work toward a bigger reward fund and spreading the word in hopes that someone will come forward with enough evidence to put away his killer.

Little Rock homicide investigators continue to look for information related to Edwards’ slaying, but a spokesman at the Little Rock Police Department declined to say whether police have identified any suspects or persons of interest in Edwards’ death, noting it is an “ongoing investigation.”

Authorities have repeatedly asked for the public’s help in the case. Thanks to the work of Edwards’ friends, community donations and Central Arkansas Crime Stoppers, the reward amount for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Edwards’ killer has grown to $11,000 — $1,000 of which is from Crime Stoppers. Anyone with information should call (501) 340-8477, or they can also email tcismetal@gmail.com.

Edwards’ best friend, Mike Poe, 43, of Little Rock, has been working diligently with state and federal authorities and the community on Edwards’ behalf. Poe was Edwards’ longtime caretaker, and he is a filmmaker and activist who has been working for years on a documentary about Edwards, his love for heavy metal music and his lifetime of ups and downs. It is called T.C. And Me… A Little Rock-umentary.

Poe says he knew Edwards since junior high school and that they became friends while working together at Pizza D’Action more than a decade ago. Poe heard about Edwards having employment and housing problems, and helped find him a place to stay and several different jobs, along with transportation to them. He eventually was successful in helping Edwards obtain disability benefits because of his autism.

On the documentary’s facebook page, Poe wrote a few days after Edwards’ murder:

“I would like to again thank each and every one of you for your kind words and actions in helping us get through these difficult times. Thanks so much for all of the sweet things you have sent and offered. I am making every attempt to return as many calls, texts, messages, and emails as possible. There are HUNDREDS and I haven’t even had a spare minute to read many of them. … As someone who has volunteered in this amazing artistic community for over two decades, it means a lot to me to see people around me taking action to make things happen. You know who you are, I don’t have to say your names here … you don’t ask for or need recognition, but you deserve it. There are just too many to mention: you are civil servants, social workers, teachers, musicians, artists, bankers, insurance salesmen, waiters, bartenders, pizza delivery drivers, restaurant owners, retail workers — and hundreds, possibly thousands of you out there are hurting right now, and my heart goes out to you.”

Based on the Facebook comments left on Edwards’ personal page, as well as on Poe’s page and the documentary page, there have been thousands of Edwards fans and friends deeply upset about his death — and they want answers and justice.

They loved Edwards because of his kind, gentle nature. He was known for his uncanny ability to “read” people, even those he had just met.

Once Edwards met a person — either by an official introduction or by just walking up to a stranger — he’d often pinch one’s elbow, advise on the importance of keeping elbows soft, and then (almost always) accurately guess someone’s shoe size, or whether they were a fan of punk versus metal, or what kind of animal they loved most, or some other off-the-wall factoid that he had no way of actually knowing having just met the acquaintance. But he always seemed to actually know, and he was almost always spot-on correct, as many of his friends noted in tribute comments on Facebook and his funeral home’s website.

One female friend of Edwards wrote on Facebook on Dec. 11, 2014:

“T.C. Edwards was one of the first people I met when I moved to Little Rock in 1993. He was wearing a Def Leppard T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, a pair of spandex zebra striped pants, high tops and a bandana under his feathered bangs. He sat down at a table where (I was sitting) and just smiled at me for like five minutes straight. Then he said, ‘You wear a size 8 shoe.’ I just laughed and said good guess. … He was always really concerned with whether I was punk or metal. … I am going to miss this fixture that had been in my life for over 20 years. I am going to miss his smiling eyes and his way-tight hugs. If there’s a rock-n-roll heaven, you know they’ve got a hell of a band.”

A longtime male friend of Edwards, who now lives in Seattle, wrote on Edwards’ personal Facebook page in the days after his death:

“T.C. never met a stranger; his love for people, music and life was unmatched. From day one, our first convo ever, he said: ‘You have your mother’s eyes’ (which I’d heard forever since I was a kid, though she’s someone he’d never seen or met), and over the almost next 20 years, he’d continually amaze me with accurate observations and the ability to read not just myself, but almost all others around him. (Raise your hand if you got the infamous T.C. ‘elbow pinch’ or hold 🙂 ) He asked and CARED how YOU were doing. Whomever did this and took him away from us deserves the worst that can happen to a person… which I hope they get.”

book page that one time he glimpsed a photo hanging up at Pizza D showing Edwards playing a Flying V guitar that looked exactly like one Casey had stolen after a show months prior in Sherwood. Edwards had found the guitar in the dumpster behind Pizza D and adopted it.

“I saw this picture hanging at the D’s a few months later, and I explained to him that that was [my guitar] Betty, and he gave her back to me! At the time, he didn’t have a guitar, and all I had was $100, so I gave it to him to help him buy a new guitar. This is who T.C. was! The generous, caring, loving guy he was, he knew how much I loved my guitar, so he gave her back to me. … I miss you buddy and I hope that you have a ‘Betty’ of your own in Heaven.”

Besides being able to “read” people extremely well and his love for metal, Edwards also was a huge fan of professional wrestling and football. In recent years, his friends have organized five different “T.C.’s Punkers vs. Rockers Co-ed Flag Football Games” held at the Arkansas School for the Deaf’s Deaf Leopards’ Stadium, in Edwards’ honor.

(Notable trivia from Poe: Deaf Leopard was actually the hair-metal band’s original name before it was changed to Def Leppard; Edwards was a huge fan.)

Now, with the popular musician gone, his friends continue to press forward in hopes of helping authorities find and convict his killer. But “Justice for T.C.” has come to mean a lot more, many close friends say.

Longtime friend, former co-worker at Iriana’s Pizza and former band mate in Edwards’ second band, The Piranhas, Brian Rodgers, says he first got to know Edwards around 1992 or 1993, “but he was always at the music shows around town, so everyone knew him. He was definitely Little Rock’s biggest rock star for a long time.”

“T.C. had a lot of friends who did a lot for him, but any of his friends will tell you that he did a lot for them, as well,” Rodgers says. “He had a magical way of cheering you up, with his huge smile and whatever random comment he would throw at you. Before you knew it, the cheese dip was on the stove and wrestling was on the TV, and you totally forgot about whatever had you down.

“His absence has left a huge hole in the community,” Rodgers says, “and we all lost one of the kindest, most honest human beings I have ever known.”

Obviously, he adds, finding who murdered Edwards and seeing them pay the price is always on his friends’ minds, but “there are other things that can be learned from T.C., and I think the best way to honor T.C. is to try a little harder to be like him. If everyone was as honest and kind as T.C., we wouldn’t be dealing with a lot of the issues that we are dealing with in Little Rock.”

Longtime pal and former Piranhas band mate Jeremy Brasher, who first met Edwards in the mid-90s, says he lived on Edwards’ walking route for at least a decade.

“T.C. was a creature of habit and liked to make the rounds visiting all his friends, walking around, stopping in, staying for an indefinite span of time and then heading onto the next spot,” Brasher says. “I just remember T.C.’s infectious laughter every time his favorite character, The Cat, would make his entrance [on their favorite comedy show, Red Dwarf].

“Little Rock is a less unique, sweet and special place after the loss of T.C. Edwards. I think I speak for anyone who knew him when I say it weighs heavily on all of our hearts,” Brasher says.

Attaining justice after his murder is not as simple as merely finding his killer, although that is step one, Brasher says.

“When I think ‘Justice for T.C.,’ I think of justice for people like T.C., for good people whose brains work differently from most people and who are often exploited, for black men — who are already jailed disproportionately to the rest of the population and whose lives seem to matter less in the eyes of the law — and finally, justice for people facing draconian drug possession charges who have done no harm,” Brasher says.

But some, including Matt Johnson, his former band mate and “head Eddie” in the group T.C. and the Eddies, says there’s no way justice will ever truly be served for Edwards.

“T.C. was an angel. He was murdered by a demon,” Johnson says. “There is no justice for T.C. — T.C. is dead.”

Poe says he and Edwards’ loved ones believe the victim deserves his day in court even though he can’t physically attend. 

“Since he can’t be there, we will be there, in court, in the streets and on the Internet seeking any justice we can get against anyone who has allegedly harmed T.C.,” Poe says.

“T.C. was our heavy-metal kitten, and he represented love and kindness,” Poe adds. “He loved and supported his friends and this community, and I am thankful to the community for all of their love and support in return — as well as to the police and prosecutors, both federal and state, for joining us in making sure T.C. is well-represented.”

Mandy McBryde, also a local working musician, used to work with Edwards at Pizza D nearly a decade ago.

“My friendship with him seemed almost instantaneously permanent. I’m sure a lot of T.C.’s friends feel that way,” she says. “I mean, there was just absolutely nothing phony about him. He never said a catty “hello” or smiled at someone he secretly disdained. I don’t even know if he was wired to be capable of any of that.”

McBryde calls Edwards “the most beautifully genuine person” she has ever known.

“It’s unlikely that I will ever encounter anyone quite like T.C. again in my lifetime, but I don’t need to. Even in memory, his honest heart will remind me of the good in this world. And that’s something that can’t be lost for those of us who loved him and were loved by him,” she says.

“Maybe [‘Justice for T.C.’] means that we all matter. That regardless of your race, gender or socioeconomic class, your life and your liberties are honored and made secure,” she says. “T.C. inspired me to fight for humanity, and now I want to believe that humanity will fight for him.”