THE VANISHING: Pieces in Glasgow mystery still surfacing

LITTLE ROCK — Julie Jones' excitement grew as she followed her tracking dog, Quincy, through a busy interstate area of Russellville.

The pair were just off I-40, on the south side of Exit 84.

Clearly, Quincy had picked up John Glasgow's scent.

Glasgow, a 45-year-old business executive, disappeared from his Little Rock home Jan. 28. He had been missing for three weeks when the dog picked up his trail.

Just ahead of Jones and Quincy, another tracking team already had hit on the same scented path.

As Jones' dog led her into a Phillips 66 gas station, Sarah Platts' canine team was charging determinedly through a Comfort Inn - from the first-floor rooms and broken ice machine on the motel's back side up to the only working ice machine on the second floor.

Next, they took Platts to a nearby Waffle House, wherean employee already had told police about a customer in the second booth to the left of the counter.

The guy looked just like that missing man from Little Rock, the cook said. He ordered two eggs over easy and hash browns - a day or two after he was reported missing.

Two clerks over at the Phillip's station also had reported possible sightings.

The three businesses were within easy walking distance of one another. Encouraged, the handlers allowed their dogsto continue tracking Glasgow's scent.

All the way to an entrance ramp onto I-40.

DECEMBER 2007

Shortly before Christmas, John Glasgow and his best friend Mitch Chandler relaxed on Glasgow's back porch, toasting their successes.

They praised each other for doing things the old-fashioned way, for earning their way up the ranks through honest, hard work.

Glasgow was especially ebullient.

As chief financial officer and vice president of CDI Contractors, he was poised to buy a percentage of the late owner Bill Clark's shares. Revenue in 2007 had topped $400 million, and CDI ranked 134 in the nation's top 400 contractors. Year-end bonuses reflected the company's success.

Glasgow grew up in a frugal, hardworking farm family in Nashville. Now he enjoyed a quiet, comfortable life with his wife of 16 years in a house that was already paid for.

But only three weeks after Glasgow and Chandler reflected proudly on their accomplishments, Glasgow's well-ordered life began to unravel at its meticulously stitched seams.

Glasgow told Chandler that attempts to redistribute Clark's shares had taken a bad turn. His counterpart at Dillard's Inc. - CDI's partner in a long-standing 50/50 arrangement - had accused Glasgow of poor accounting practices. Glasgow's year-end bonus also was under fire.

Chandler offered counsel and comfort. But Glasgow remained upset.

On Jan. 28, two weeks after Glasgow's work fell under scrutiny, the CDI officer vanished, leaving behind a stunned family and worried friends.

The next day, a park ranger reported that Glasgow's darkgray Volvo SUV was parked in front of Mather Lodge at Petit Jean State Park near Morrilton.

If Glasgow did drive up to Petit Jean, he didn't linger. His scent spilled from the Volvo but didn't extend any farther. And just about everyone involved in the search for him agreed on one point: It looked as though Glasgow meant to disappear.

But why?

Dillard's and CDI have issued several statements - Dillard's as recently as Wednesday - that despite the conflict over accounting practices, no one believes that Glasgow misappropriated any money.

Dillard's restated its 2004 earnings on Wednesday, citing an "error" in CDI's accounting. The restated earnings lopped off $7.1 million in previously reported profits.

A LASTING FRIENDSHIP

In March 1987, Bill Dillard and Bill Clark were in their mid-40s. They often played golf together and moved through the same social circles. They described themselves as close friends.

Dillard had been groomed for eventual leadership of his father's chain of department stores. Clark owned Bragg's Electric Co., which did 85 percent to 90 percent of Dillard's electrical work.

When Dillard's Inc. dropped the general contractor it had used for decades, Dillard and Clark decided to open their own firm, which would be responsible for construction at current and future Dillard's stores.

They agreed on a 50/50 partnership and named their new company CDI.

(CDI shouldn't be confused with Construction Developers Inc., a wholly owned Dillard's subsidiary formed in 1967.)

The firm's first project wasthe expansion of the Dillard's at Park Plaza.

A year after CDI went into business, Clark described the company's creation to the Arkansas Gazette as a relaxed, joint endeavor made by longtime friends.

"They [Dillard's] look on this as basically an investment to them," Clark told the newspaper.

"They are not involved in the day-to-day operations. Their main concern is to get their stores and buildings built just the way they have in the past."

By 2007, Clark's reputation for integrity and his large network of influential clients had brought in hundreds of big-name projects. Among them: Clinton's presidential center, Rockefeller Center at Petit Jean, the Governor's Mansion Great Hall, and dozens of university and medical buildings.

CDI also did a lot of corporate and retail work, in Arkansas and other states, including the construction of several malls in Texas, Florida, Georgia, New Mexico and Colorado.

Through the years, Bill Clark and Bill Dillard's friendship persevered.

When Clark died of cancer at age 63 in May 2007, Dillard described him as his "dearest friend," saying, "Arkansas has lost a legend."

Shortly after, Clark's son, William, was named chairman and chief executive of CDI. William had joined his father's firm in 1994, managing several major projects - the construction of headquarters for Alltel Corp. and Heifer International, for example - over the years.

After Clark's death, Bill Dillard proposed that William and other CDI employees buy into Clark's 50 percent of the company.

John Glasgow told his wife, Melinda, that William Clark planned to buy 30 percent. The remaining 20 percent would be split among eight or nine highranking CDI employees. The group agreed in early November to proceed with this plan.

As CDI's chief financial officer for the past 12 years, Glasgow played a key role in the ensuing negotiations. He also helped his fellow investors prepare the financial information needed to apply for their loans.

After 2/2 months of hard, fast work, Glasgow thought the process was nearing an end. He told Melinda that Simmons Bank had approved all of the loans. The redistribution of Clark's percentage was a go.

On Jan. 18, however, Melinda found her husband pacing in their kitchen. In tears.

SIGNS OF TROUBLE

"What's going on?" she asked, alarmed by this unprecedented breakdown.

"I've had the worst day of my life," Glasgow replied.

They sat down and talked. And talked. Three hours passed. Melinda was so immersed in thediscussion that she forgot about dinner.

Her husband said Dillard's longtime chief financial officer, James Freeman, had been questioning Glasgow's $300,000 bonus. Freeman also didn't like some of Glasgow's accounting practices, such as CDI's method for depreciating its assets.

Three certified public accountants from Dillard's already were going over the books, a normal practice in business realignments.

But that day, Glasgow said, Freeman had intensified the pressure during a phone call, reminding Glasgow of what happened to Enron's chief financial officer. He threatened to make sure Glasgow ended up in prison.

(Andrew Fastow, former CFO of defunct energy trading firm Enron, pleaded guilty in 2004 to two counts of conspiracy in the wake of Enron's collapse three years earlier. Charges of accounting fraud and money laundering were dropped in exchange for the guilty plea and his cooperation in other cases.)

After Freeman's call, Glasgow told his wife, he went to William Clark, saying, "This can't continue. We can't do business like this."

A meeting between Clark, Glasgow, Dillard and Freeman followed. Glasgow told Melinda, he was dismayed by his perception that Bill Dillard acted detached from the scene unfolding in Clark's office. Glasgow told the group that bonuses were calculated by a formula applied to each year's projected profits. He showed them Bill Clark's predictions for 2007, in his handwriting.

The next day, on Jan. 19, Glasgow called his friend Mitch Chandler and told him that he'd been humiliated beyond repair.

"Well, John, this isn't the end of the world," Chandler remembered telling him. "They can decide they don't want to keep you and look at what you can still do. When one door closes, another one opens. You need to prepare for that."

And then, for the first time in 23 years of friendship, Glasgow got mad at Chandler.

He hung up.

Stunned, Chandler wrote an apologetic e-mail.

"I'm not mad at you," Glasgow replied. "I'm mad at the situation."

On Jan. 22, Glasgow left Chandler a voice-mail.

"I'm keeping my head down and doing what they want," he said, adding that he was now confident things would "work out to everyone's benefit."

But two days later, Glasgow asked Chandler to come over. He was upset about work again. Rattled. Abnormally animated.

Chandler noted that accounting isn't always black and white. "Is there something they could find to use against you?" he asked.

"No, nothing," Glasgow said adamantly.

Chandler also asked how William Clark was faring during this turbulent transition.

"His daddy would be really proud of him," Glasgow said.

That night, Glasgow toldChandler about a letter he wanted to write to Dillard. He planned to write it in Clark's voice and offer it to him to use as he saw fit.

Friday morning, Glasgow sent a rough draft to Chandler and asked for objective input.

... You and my dad were best friends and I've admired you and looked up to you all of my life. ... You and my dad built this company on a foundation of trust, respect, integrity and honesty. ... For Freeman to come down here and say we are dishonest, and for you to sit there and not say anything, hurt us to the core. ... If we can move forward, then I have a plan for how to do it. First, you have to call off the dogs.

The letter ended by noting that CDI's business practices were in keeping with oral agreements established by Dillard and Bill Clark long ago. ... If you didn't know it was working the way it did, you should have known because that information has been available through audits done by your people...

Chandler suggested softening the letter's tone. He also told Glasgow that this should be a discussion between Clark and Dillard, but Glasgow remained convinced that the issue was between himself and Freeman.

That evening, Chandler's birthday, Glasgow called.

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you," he said.

"OK. Yeah," Chandler said, puzzled by Glasgow's tone. Later, he would tell people how Glasgow sounded so loving. So heartfelt.

"I just wanted to tell you that," Glasgow said. "Happy birthday."

Chandler searched for the right words. "John, please take the weekend off."

He knew Glasgow had been spending Saturdays and Sundays at the office.

"I've got to work," Glasgow said.

The auditors would be at CDI again on Monday.

'WE CAN'T FIND JOHN'

A letter, Glasgow told his wife, was hand-delivered to Dillard on Saturday, Jan. 26. He thought Clark had used at least part of what he had written on Friday.

Sunday evening, Jan. 27, after Glasgow got home from work, he and Melinda walked across the street to his cousin Dick Norton's house, a retiree with whom they had visited Scotland one year.

On this particular Sunday night, the Glasgows were going over to sample a scotch thatsome of Norton's friends had discovered.

Later, after Glasgow disappeared, Norton would marvel to Melinda: "I didn't notice a thing during the evening. He just seemed perfectly normal."

John and Melinda arrived home around 9:30 p.m.

Melinda got ready for bed while her husband fell asleep in one of their more significant marital compromises - an "ugly, awful, horrible" oversized recliner that Melinda hated. He was still wearing his khaki pants and plaid shirt.

The couple, who both attended Nashville High School, married 16 years ago after bumping into each other in downtown Little Rock. That same year John was promoted to comptroller at CDI. He had been with the company two years.

A few years later, he faced the awkward task of exposing then-chief financial officer Kevin Wheeler's embezzlement of $1.3 million, to which Wheeler pleaded guilty. John told Melinda he couldn't believe how Wheeler had betrayed Clark. Nor could he understand why Wheeler didn't seem more repentant when Clark confronted him.

Soon after, Glasgow replaced Wheeler. And in 1997, he became vice president of CDI.

John was orderly, bordering on fastidious. Even as a child, he demanded that his shoelaces be tied so that the bows were even.

He adhered to a strict daily routine, rising between 5:30 and 6 a.m. to eat breakfast, pay bills and collect his thoughts before work. He returned home to eat lunch and put the bills in the mailbox. He and Melinda ate dinner early, then John would retire to his chair with an afghan and a favorite cat. Many nights, he fell asleep there.

That Sunday was no different. At 10:30 p.m., Melinda tried to rouse her snoring husband. Eventually, she gave up and went to bed.

At 5:15 a.m. Monday, nextdoor neighbor Brian Rosenthal was up early, preparing for an out-of-town business trip. He heard a car start and looked out the bedroom window, expecting to see a neighbor departing for an early morning workout.

Instead, he saw an SUV leaving the Glasgow house. It appeared to have been parked out front. At the time, Rosenthal assumed it was John. Later, he would tell family members he couldn't be sure. He never actually saw the driver or the make of car.

When Melinda got up at 7 a.m., she figured John had either headed in to work early or was jogging.

By 9 a.m., over at CDI's headquarters on Cantrell Road, many people had noticed Glasgow's absence but thought maybe he was sick or had a doctor's appointment. Several called his cell phone but got no answer. A co-worker drove by the house, but Glasgow's car wasn't there. The housekeeper hadn't seen him all day.

At 2:30 p.m., a CDI employee notified Melinda at her job. She immediately called Chandler. "We can't find John," she said.

And Chandler, knowing his friend to be a creature of habit, a man who couldn't be kept away from the office even on weekends, felt panic.

Oh my God, he thought as he raced over to the Glasgow home. Where is he?

That evening, after grabbing a notepad to jot down a few thoughts, Melinda flipped past the page with her Target shopping list. Underneath, her husband had written the account number for their joint checking account and the code to their personal safe.

Odd, she thought. But certainly not alarming.

A FAMILY GATHERS

The next day, Donna Jean Glasgow returned from a shopping trip to find a recorded message from her sister-in-law, Melinda.

"I need you to call me as soon as possible. It's very important."

And then Melinda's sobs echoed from the phone's recorder.

Frightened, Donna Jean called back.

"John's missing," Melinda said.

"Where is he?" Donna asked. "Where is he?"

Melinda just cried. Finally, she managed to speak again. "I need you here."

Donna Jean left her Springdale home for Little Rock soon after.

Two of the eight Glasgow siblings - Dennis and Gary - were already at John's house. Randy, who still lived near the family farm, was searching for John in Nashville. Two sisters, Miriam and Ramona, live in California. They would arrive later in the week.

Roger, the oldest, was at Petit Jean with Melinda's son, J.T., after learning that John's car had been found at Mather Lodge between 1:30 and 2 p.m. His laptop and cell phone were tucked into a computer bag in the back seat. The keys were gone. Authorities tried to lift fingerprints from the car, but would later say they couldn't get anything identifiable.

He's gone up there to clear his head, Donna Jean thought. He's hiking it out on the mountain.

As the family waited for news, Melinda told them about John's recent trouble at work. Later, out of Melinda's presence, the siblings decided they needed to objectively explore every possible scenario: wrongdoing at work; running off with another woman; stress-induced amnesia; suicide; abduction; or murder.

Pings from John's cell phone offered few clues. (A ping is what happens when a cell phone finds a tower to carry its signal.)

The first occurred at 5:15 a.m. off a Little Rock tower, presumably when John turned on the cell phone he so disliked. The second showed up at 7:22 a.m., off the Mayflower/Conway tower. Where, everyone wondered, did John spend those two hours between pings?

He didn't appear to have gone to work, per CDI's coded alarm system.

Authorities would learn that his car had been parked at Petit Jean sometime on Monday. A ping bounced from that area's tower at 9:30 a.m.

A tourist photo would later show that the car was at Mather Lodge by 4:30 p.m. Monday.

The siblings were certain Glasgow must be somewhere on the mountain. They talked about how he must have been traumatized, or he surely would have left a note for Melinda. They agreed that as soon as he was found, their brother should be taken immediately to a hospital.

THE SEARCH BEGINS

For the next three days, numerous county and state agencies searched Petit Jean - by air, by foot and by dog.

George Stowe-Rains, who conducts such efforts for the Arkansas Forestry Commission, brought in his best dog handler. Her team couldn't pick up Glasgow's scent anywhere beyond the spot where his car had been parked.

Each day's search involved 30 to 40 people working 12 to 14 hours.

They found no trace of Glasgow. This struck Stowe-Rains as odd. Usually, if a person has been somewhere, he leaves at least one clue behind.

Friday night, Feb. 1, county and state officials called off the search.

Melinda Glasgow understood. But she didn't feel able to leave the mountain without further confirmation.

On Feb. 2, about 50 volunteers from CDI showed up to search. Still stunned by Glasgow's disappearance, the somber group spent the weekend hiking the rugged terrain.

Nothing.

Madison and Marion counties have one of the few independent search-and-rescue teams in the state and typically step in once an official search is called off. They spent the weekend hiking and rappelling down the mountain.

Nothing.

Enter EquuSearch, a nonprofit search-and-recovery team out of Houston, Texas. Their team arrived Feb. 5, shortly before two tornadoes swept across Arkansas. They, too, climbed the mountain and swung down cliffs.

Nothing.

Last to arrive were Platts and Jones. They flew in Feb. 15 from Virginia Beach, Va., and Maine, respectively. The two women belong to a national nonprofit search-and-recovery unit that specializes in tracking people in "aged" or "contaminated" areas. In other words, their dogs aretrained to track old scents in places that are heavily populated or visited.

VK9, based in Maine, would conduct the final search for Glasgow.

Like the earlier teams, their dogs picked up Glasgow's scent at Mather Lodge but couldn't track it any farther. At Randy's request, they searched several isolated spots, ordering the dogs to, "Find Fred," which puts them on cadaver alert.

Nothing.

Jones and Platts went to Russellville at the request of Glasgow's stepson, who'd heard about a possible sighting at a Phillips 66 gas station.

Platts went first. Her two dogs picked up the scent immediately and followed it to the Comfort Inn and Waffle House.

A cook at the restaurant asked what she was doing.

"Oh, yeah," he said, "I've seen that guy, either the Wednesday or Thursday after he went missing."

The cook said he'd called the state police. He remembered the guy's order - two eggs, over easy, and hash browns.

Platts asked Melinda about the breakfast.

"That's how John likes his eggs," she confirmed.

SPECULATION CONTINUES

Late Wednesday, nearly eight weeks after Glasgow's disappearance, Dillard's restated past earnings, saying in a statement that a review of CDI records showed that the contractor underreported to Dillard's the profits it made on the retail chain's construction projects.

"Every accountant I've talked to today has told me it doesn't look to them like an error so much as a disagreement over accountancy," Glasgow family attorney Chip Welch said Thursday.

And, he added, the dynamic between the two companies appears to have changed since Bill Clark's death.

Roger Glasgow agreed, adding, "They knew, or should have known, how these items were being carried on CDI's books."

Those who searched for Glasgow all those weeks believe he wanted to disappear.

"And people who choose to secret themselves are the hardest to find," Platts said.

Melinda, who worked as an assistant to Heifer International's spokesman, quit her job two weeks after her husband vanished. "It was the right decision. This is my full-time job. For now," she stresses.

She contends the man she married wouldn't have left intentionally without telling her something. "He's an even-keeled, solid, responsible man. You've got the same guy every day."

And besides, he had everything, Chandler says.

"He was good at his life. He was good at what he did. That's why we despair over this. Because we just can't understand."

Anyone with information can call (501) 354-2411.

About the story This story is based on interviews with Melinda Glasgow, Roger Glasgow, the other Glasgow siblings, Mitch Chandler, lawmen, search teams and sources close to the investigation.

The Democrat-Gazette sent Dillard's a list of questions on March 11 regarding John Glasgow, James Freeman and the disagreement of accounting practices. Dillard's would not answer those questions.

Freeman also declined to comment. Rather, the company restated Thursday its belief that Glasgow didn't misappropriate any money. CDI's William Clark also did not respond to similar questions.