How Did Charter Boat Become A Ghost Ship?

Unlike most boats returning from the high seas, the sport fisher Joe Cool had no tales to tell.

Three days earlier, the 47-foot boat had departed for the island of Bimini, four crew members and two passengers aboard. A day earlier, it had been found, doing circles and dragging anchor, on a lonely stretch of the Florida Straits about 30 miles north of Cuba.

With no crew.

And no passengers.

As a Coast Guard cutter towed it slowly back into Biscayne Bay, a hush fell over its home, the Miami Beach Marina.

In the slips, men ceased buffing the pearly hulls of multimillion-dollar yachts. Dock boys stopped zipping about in EZGO carts. Even the Shih Tzu-walkers in their Gucci sunglasses and clogs paused as the white vessel glided without a murmur up the channel.

Along the docks and the palm-lined pier, "Everyone stood there and followed the boat with their eyes," Valerie Kevorkian, a dive shop operator and scuba instructor, recalled, "and then there was only emptiness ... a ghostly feeling."

Indeed, the Joe Cool had returned with no souls or story - only clues, tantalizing to be sure, to a high-seas mystery full of twists, discrepancies, revelations and contradictions.

As on an episode of "CSI," investigators would pluck from the vessel some valuable evidence: four 9 mm shell casings; a tiny key that might or might not unlock handcuffs; splotches of human blood, inside and outside the cabin.

They would also find, drifting in an orange life raft 12 miles north of the ghost ship, two seemingly incongruous men who had chartered the Joe Cool - a 35-year-old, suspected thief on the run from police in Arkansas, and a clean-cut, 19-year-old Cuban-American training to become a private security guard.

They would interrogate these survivors, take down a story that three pirates had hijacked the boat and coldly shot each crew member, and then, for some reason, let these two go in a life raft with their luggage and about $2,200 in cash.

Investigators didn't buy the story. On Wednesday, prosecutors charged the suspects with first-degree murder in the high-seas killing of the Joe Cool's young, four-member crew: the captain, Jake Branam, 27; his wife, Kelley, 30; Jake's half-brother, Scott Gamble, 35, and their friend and first mate, Samuel Kairy, 27.

What law enforcement would not immediately provide - may never fully provide, perhaps - are what the relatives and friends of the four most desire: Answers and, by extension, closure.

For a week after its return, the Joe Cool sat in dock at a Coast Guard station directly across the channel from the marina. No one was allowed near the vessel - except the forensics experts who combed it for clues - but the boat's graceful hull and vaulting flybridge were visible, and haunting, to all.

"This could have happened to any one of us, and whenever you looked at that boat over there, it reminded of you of that," said Greg Love, 51, who runs Club Nautico South Beach, one of the marina's five charter businesses.

Kevorkian, whose dive shop is next door, caught herself many times that week, gazing beyond the boat lifts at the tied-up Joe Cool.

"It just looked empty. Like a shell," she said. "There was no feeling, no soul in it anymore."

As with many sea mysteries, this one starts on land - in central Arkansas, to be precise.

It features a fellow named Kirby Logan Archer, who, by the age of 35, had been described as a loner, a romantic, a sensitive son, a vindictive husband, a loving father, a gay man.

According to a WANTED flier from the Independence County sheriff's office, Archer stands 6 feet tall and weighs 190 pounds. His mugshot reveals a no-nonsense squint and a grown-out crewcut - a throwback, maybe, to his Army days. (He had been a Military Police investigator at the U.S. Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, during the Cuban Rafter Crisis, which began in 1994. He went AWOL four years ago, receiving an "other-than-honorable" discharge, court records show.)

Arkansas prosecutors have accused Archer of robbing the Wal-Mart in Batesville, where he worked for less than a year as a customer service manager.

On a Friday night this January, they allege, Archer used a cart to collect the money trays from cash registers, part of his normal duties, and wheeled it to a back room.

Next, they say, he stashed $92,620.66 in cash and checks in a microwave oven and re-sealed the box. A surveillance video showed that Archer strolled out the front doors with the box at 10:25 p.m., after paying for the microwave at the front checkout counter.

"He even used his employee discount," Keith Bowers, sheriff of Independence County, said in a phone interview.

By the time a court had issued a warrant for his arrest the following morning, Archer had fled the state.

He left behind a wife, two children and, apparently, a troubled home life. Though his current wife, Michelle, has described him as a "wonderful father," his previous wife, Michelle Rowe, says Archer was quite the opposite.

Allegations leveled during the couple's divorce and child custody proceedings paint a lurid picture: that Rowe was sexually involved with another woman; that Archer had a gay lover; that Rowe suffered an "accidental overdose" of migraine medication; that Archer once gave Rowe a black eye; and more.

At the time Archer went on the lam, he was the subject of a child molestation investigation - and still is, though no charges have been filed, says Sgt. David Huffmaster of the Sharp County, Ark., sheriff's office. (In 1993, while living in Tucson, Ariz., Archer was found guilty of a misdemeanor charge of "contributing to the delinquency or dependency of a minor.")

Allan Kaiser, a lawyer appointed to defend Archer in Miami, says the allegations come mainly "from an ex-wife who is pretty unbalanced."

A little more than an hour after leaving Wal-Mart for good, Archer was stopped by police in Bono, Ark., 90 miles away, because one headlight of his 1991 Dodge Caravan was out. He was cited and sent on his way since the all-points bulletin on him hadn't yet been posted.

"It's a shame," says Lance Suttles, Bono's police chief. "We could have stopped this whole mess right there, if only we'd have known about him."

--

For nearly eight months, Archer lay low. When next he surfaced, he was in the Miami area, spending time with a 19-year-old Cuban immigrant with a weight lifter's torso and a close-cropped, dark beard: Guillermo Zarabozo.

To his neighbors in Hialeah, Zarabozo was sociable, respectful, well-behaved. He lived with his mother, sister, stepfather and pet dog in a second-floor walkup.

Did he drink, smoke, use drugs? No, the neighbors say. Was he in trouble with the law? Never, they insist.

Gaby Lopez, 19, a Hialeah High School classmate, knew him as "an easygoing" student who excelled in science and math and was in the school's Junior ROTC.

"Guillermo worked out a lot, was a sports nut," says Nelson Palenzuela, 60, a downstairs neighbor. "He had a Cuban girlfriend, but he never came home late."

"He's a boy any mother would want to have," said another neighbor, Belkis Diaz, 38.

Until recently, Zarabozo worked for private investigation and security companies and held a state permit to carry three types of handguns.

But if Zarabozo got along so well with his neighbors, why did he install a video surveillance camera in the hall outside of his family's apartment? And if, as Zarabozo's neighbors and friends attest, Archer never visited Zarabozo at home, school, or work, how and when did they meet?

Archer's attorney, Allan Kaiser, said the two were introduced in Florida six months ago by "people they knew mutually."

Zarabozo's mother, Francisca Alonso, said in a TV interview that her son's father had been stationed at Guantanamo in 1995, when Archer was an MP officer there. (Archer briefly mentioned "a boy from Cuba whose family he apparently befriended while stationed in Cuba," according to his ex-wife, Rowe.)

Zarabozo came to the United States in 1999, after winning a visa lottery in Cuba, said his mother.

"I believe in my son. I trust him completely," she told The Associated Press.

However the pair came together, Archer and Zarabozo shared a number of traits: Both spoke fluent Spanish and had lived in Cuba; both were fastidious, very attentive to their physiques, and well-trained in the use of handguns.

And, on a breezy Saturday, the last day of summer, both boarded the Joe Cool.

The travelers initially approached the charter boat's first mate, Sammy Kairy.

They wanted a ride to Bimini. They'd met a couple of lovely young ladies and were supposed to rendezvous with them in the Bahamas. It would be a one-way trip.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about the two men, according to people at the marina that day and the next. The pair seemed polite. One spoke in a slow, Southern drawl. He seemed friendly. He was willing to pay cash.

It was still the slow season for chartering. The snowbirds, the corporate types, they wouldn't start flocking to Florida to fish the Gulf Stream for another month or two. A charter a week was good money that time of year.

Kairy gave them the business number of the boat's owner.

The next afternoon, Saturday, Sept. 21, Archer and Zarabozo turned up at slip D-30, where the Joe Cool was docked. They had six black bags. The vessel's owner, Jeff Branam, a stout man with sun-bleached gray hair, helped carry their luggage aboard.

Archer told him they worked for a survey company, had finished early, and were off to the Big Game Resort and Yacht Club on Bimini. Branam said a boat trip would set them back $4,000. The crew, after all, would have to sail back to Miami, and gas cost money.

With little more than a nod, Archer pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, peeled off 40 $100 notes, and held them out.

Why didn't they just take a plane? Branam asked. A one-way ticket would cost $150, tops.

Haven't got my passport, Archer told him. Girlfriend packed it in her luggage and went on ahead. She's going to meet us at the dock.

Branam took the money.

There was no reason to feel funny about it. Another outfit in the marina charged $3,500-$4,900 for a full day fishing on yachts about the size of the Joe Cool. Miami Beach was a rich man's playground. Some of these folks garaged their Ferraris to go grocery shopping in their Mercedes.

About 4:30 p.m., under sunny skies, the Joe Cool sailed into the light chop of Biscayne Bay, on its first-ever charter to the Bahamas.

The captain, Jake Branam, with a $1,000 share and plans to fish for yellowfin tuna on the return, couldn't have been happier. His wife, Kelley, an "outdoor girl" who nurtured a pet raccoon at home, didn't usually tag along; she had a 3-year-old daughter, Taylor, and an infant son, Morgan, to look after.

But this time, she was able to leave the kids with Jake's grandfather. Besides, it was the weekend and this was only a one-way job.

--

What happened next, according to criminal complaints filed in federal court against Archer and Zarabozo, is this:

The Joe Cool was expected to return the following noon to prepare for a Monday charter. By 4 p.m. that Sunday, with no word from his nephew, Jeff Branam contacted the Coast Guard. Within two hours, the sport fisher was spotted, drifting.

But it was 160 miles south of Bimini, on the Cay Sal Banks - just a short sail from Cuba.

Coast Guard officers boarded the vessel, finding it "in disarray." Investigators discovered six marijuana cigarettes, a cellular telephone, luggage, cameras, a laptop computer, Zarabozo's Florida ID card, a small key, four spent shell casings - and blood, in the stern and cabin.

They noted the boat's navigational equipment and electronics had been left untouched, along with some expensive fishing gear. But they found no life raft, no guns, no bullets or slugs.

And no bodies.

The boat's Global Positioning System indicated the Joe Cool had started off heading due east toward Bimini. Then, halfway to its destination, it had veered 190 degrees south. Why the drastic change in course, which pointed straight toward Cuba?

Two cutters, a C-130 plane, a P-3 Orion patrol plane and helicopters swept the Gulf Stream, searching more than 10,000 square miles. On foot, searchers checked out dozens of small, uninhabited cays.

Still they found no crew.

They did, however, spot a life raft, drifting northward with the Gulf Stream current. In it were Archer and Zarabozo, with a supply of water, their luggage, and some other curious objects: a blow gun, darts, several knives, and 22 $100 bills.

What were they doing out there?

During the trip back, Zarabozo told investigators that pirates had hijacked the Joe Cool. They shot the captain dead, he recounted, and then killed his wife the same way "because she was hysterical." The hijackers then ordered the remaining crew to throw the bodies overboard, shooting them, too, when they refused, he said.

When the pirates told him to dump the bodies, Zarabozo said he complied and, at gunpoint, cleaned the boat. Then, he claimed, the invaders commandeered the vessel and sailed it south until it ran out of fuel. Ultimately, a third boat picked up the hijackers, who spared him and Archer the crew's fate.

--

The survivors' version of what happened appeared highly suspicious to prosecutors.

They say:

-No radio transmissions or maydays about a hijacking came from the boat. There was a "distress" button on the VHF radio, which, when pressed, would send the Coast Guard the sport fisher's position.

-There were no scratches or marks on the Joe Cool's hull, typically left by a boarding vessel.

-Though Archer and Zarabozo say they were going to rendezvous with girlfriends on Bimini, no women have come forward.

-Although the survivors told investigators the killings occurred on the boat's exterior deck, human blood and three of the four shell casings were found inside, in the main cabin.

-Cuba, just beyond where the men were picked up, has no extradition treaty with the U.S.; that fact led Assistant U.S. Attorney Jeffrey Tsai to say in court that Archer and Zarabozo were attempting "a one-way trip out of the country."

-Four spent shell casings had stamps matching ammunition purchased by Zarabozo in February.

According to investigators with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, evidence found from the processing of weapons and bullet casings, led to the increased charges to be filed Wednesday afternoon, CBS 4 in Miami reported.

Still, without a murder weapon, a confession, bodies, bullets - or any witnesses beyond the accused - proving that Archer and Zarabozo plotted and committed first-degree murder won't be easy, veteran defense lawyers say.

"That's a fairly thin case," says James Cohen, a criminal law professor at Fordham University. Proceeding without bodies can be done but "it's much more difficult," he said.

Indeed, without the victims' bodies, what can DNA evidence on the Joe Cool prove?

It doesn't have eyes, or ears, or memory.

And it doesn't tell secrets.

--

At the Miami Beach Marina, the news of murder charges brought no elation from those who knew the crew of the Joe Cool. Relief, perhaps. And hope that the crime would not go unpunished.

Wayne Conn, 57, a boat captain who's a fixture at the marina, met Jake Branam 15 years ago, when he was just an adolescent with floppy hair and dreams of skippering a boat. Conn showed him the ropes. He knew that they shared an attachment to their vessels and to the sea.

Now Conn knows something else.

"Grieving takes a long time to get through."