Then the patron turned his focus to 32-year-old Stacey Shore, a polo fan with a shimmering tan and long, chestnut hair. As the night wore on, Goodman would wander away from his friends to chat with her. They flirted and danced and kissed a little, Shore told sheriff's deputies.

"We were having a good time," Shore said in a sworn interview. "Him and I were actually having very detailed conversations that night."

At one point, Goodman slipped and fell. The bar manager blamed it on a slick spot on the floor. Lewter, a veteran employee of the Players Club, later told investigators that she didn't think Goodman was wasted. She'd seen him much tipsier before.

Scott Wilson's friends say he loved playing basketball, inventing things, and making them laugh.
Courtesy of scottpatrickwilson.com
Scott Wilson's friends say he loved playing basketball, inventing things, and making them laugh.
John Goodman is credited with reviving polo in Wellington, attracting international celebrities to games at his club. Goodman pleaded not guilty to vehicular homicide, DUI manslaughter, and failure to render aid.
John Goodman is credited with reviving polo in Wellington, attracting international celebrities to games at his club. Goodman pleaded not guilty to vehicular homicide, DUI manslaughter, and failure to render aid.

"He's just kind of a disgusting drunk," she said. "Sweaty and slurring his speech and just kind of like a lump of a person."

When she handed him his bill around 12:30 that morning, Goodman was standing, speaking coherently. Lewter had seen him put down two shots of tequila and a vodka tonic, "but it didn't dawn on me that he had too much to drink," she said.

As Goodman prepared to leave, Shore followed him into the stairwell that leads out to the Players Club parking lot. They talked about going home together. They talked about going to downtown West Palm, but Shore refused to drive, and Goodman's regular driver, Larry, was off that night. So Goodman came up with an alternate plan.

"Let's go get some cocaine," Shore said he suggested.

Shore refused. "I told him to go home," she said, before heading back down to the bar.

Shore later told investigators she was "shocked" by Goodman's offer, because she'd never seen him do drugs. But Lewter told a different story.

"Quite honestly, I've seen him come into the bar late at night with powder hanging out of his nose," she said.

Last year, in divorce documents ending their 22-year marriage, Carroll Goodman suggested that her husband was an addict."Respondent has a history of substance abuse, namely cocaine use," her attorney wrote. John had agreed to submit to random drug screening, then failed to follow through, Carroll alleged.

Whether or not he was searching for a fix that morning, Goodman didn't go home. Around 12:50 a.m., he left the bar in his Bentley alone. About ten minutes later, he was barreling down narrow 120th Avenue South, where the posted speed limit is 35 mph.

At the intersection with Lake Worth Road, investigators say Goodman blew through a stop sign at 63 mph. He smashed into Wilson's Hyundai with such force that the crumpled car tumbled upside down into a drainage canal.

Dazed and nursing an injured wrist, Goodman stumbled out of his car and started walking south. He allegedly headed to the nearest friend's house he knew: Kampsen's barn, on 120th Avenue South. The barn is a sort of "man cave," Kampsen told investigators. It's got an office, a TV, and a stocked bar.

"I went upstairs thinking that was where you live," Kampsen said Goodman told him later. "I kept thinking it was weird that you didn't have a bedroom up there, and I didn't know where you were."

Goodman rummaged around for awhile, then gave up because he couldn't find a phone. He hopped a fence and found Pembleton's camper.

Back at the crash site, the minutes ticked by. The first sheriff's deputies arrived at the accident scene by 1:12 a.m. Shattered glass surrounded Goodman's mangled Bentley. Two firefighters waded into the canal to look for signs of life in the submerged Hyundai. The rescuers felt around the driver's side but couldn't find anyone in the dark, cold waters. Only after they called a tow truck to lift the wreck from the murky canal did the rescuers see Wilson's pale face, still strapped in the driver's seat, his lungs filled with silt.

Goodman called 911 just before 2 a.m. A deputy found him on the road near Pembleton's camper, reeking of booze. He sent Goodman to Wellington Regional Medical Center to get treatment for his broken wrist. On the way, Goodman kept asking if there was another victim of the crash, according to a paramedic who was in the ambulance with him. "He was very worried about the other driver," firefighter Scott Mock told a sheriff's investigator.

At the hospital, another sheriff's investigator noted Goodman's bloodshot eyes and slurred speech. He asked the patron to give a statement about the crash, but Goodman said he had to talk to his lawyer. He never gave the interview.

The investigator asked Goodman's lawyer, Wade Byrd, if Goodman would give a blood sample. Byrd said he wasn't sure Goodman would agree. The investigator explained that he had probable cause, and Goodman had no right to refuse. By the time a nurse took the sample, three hours had passed since the crash. Goodman's blood alcohol was 0.177, more than twice the legal limit.

Later in the morning, Goodman's brother, Greg, came to visit him in the hospital. John borrowed Greg's phone to call Heather Colby again.

She asked Goodman if he was OK. "Well... how good can I be?" Colby told investigators he responded. "Somebody's dead."


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