Pitts: ‘The longest light ever’ for witnesses in Fayetteville road rage case

I noticed a light smile play across the lips of Justina Hemphill as a police forensics expert talked about her late husband’s unusual wallet.

There had been precious little for anyone to smile about during the trial of the man who shot to death Hemphill’s life mate, Stephen “Trey” Addison, on a cold and cloudy Jan. 3 in 2022.

Jurors in courtroom 3C of the Cumberland County Courthouse saw the silver metal wallet made by Ridge displayed on a TV screen. Diana Engel, a forensics technician with the Fayetteville Police Department, testified she had never seen one before. The thin wallet is made of tough metal and is something of a sensation in the staid world of men’s wallets.

More from the trial: Did Fayetteville road-rage killer discharge his gun by accident? Cumberland jury to decide

“It’s super slim,” she said.

I bet Addison was proud of it. I bet his widow knew how proud he was of it.

Roger Dale Nobles Sr., 53, is charged with first-degree murder in the shooting death of Addison, a 32-year-old veteran and motorcyclist who died on the scene at the intersection of Skibo and Cliffdale roads during the lunchtime hour. Nobles left the scene.

He had been driving a truck; he and Addison were stopped at the intersection next to each other. Nobles admits to the shooting. His lawyer, Coy Brewer, intends to argue in court that his client pulled the trigger accidentally.

Nobles is white and Addison is Black, but Assistant District Attorney Kayley Taber in her opening statement made no mention of race being a factor in the shooting.

The killing has been described as an act of road rage.

More: Fayetteville man indicted on charge of first-degree murder in motorcyclist's road-rage killing

When the law caught up with Nobles at his house, he told police officers he shot Addison because he had been weaving in and out of traffic, according to Taber. In a later interview with detectives, he claimed he shot Addison because the motorcyclist had pushed back his son — who had gotten out of the passenger’s side of Nobles’ truck to confront Addison.

I have covered murder trials, read about murders and been working in a business where murder stories are part of our jobs. I cannot easily think of someone killed for less.

Hemphill’s smile came during afternoon testimony in the chilly courtroom, where Superior Court Judge Gale Adams presided.

The widow’s smile, however, was only a quick sun shower.

It was gone by the time prosecutor Rob Thompson slowly walked Addison’s colorful motorcycle helmet — “with beautiful tropical fish swimming around” as Taber had described it — down the jury box for all to see.

Hemphill left the courtroom at that moment.

Strangers brought together

In the morning, she had endured eyewitnesses describing her husband’s final minutes.

Addison’s death brought together strangers in a singular moment in time around 12:30 p.m.  Just minutes earlier, all of them had been living out an ordinary day, as Taber illustrated in her opening statement.

Carolyn Bailey, 39, an active-duty soldier and optometry technician, had grabbed lunch at Chick-fil-a and was headed to check on the dog of a friend who was out of town.

Lekeita K. Parker, 40, had started a new job that day and was headed on her lunch break to T.J. Maxx and Marshall’s to buy items to set up her office. She was on the phone with her father, which was typical. “I’m a daddy’s girl,” she told the court.

Alphonso Jones, 53, a FedEx driver back then, was dropping off a rental at the Enterprise Rent-A-Car, and he and an Enterprise employee were in the parking lot as the employee did her final inspection.

Trenton Fisher, who works in residential construction, had just pulled out of the Verizon store onto Skibo Road and was heading south toward Cliffdale.

More: Fayetteville man indicted on charge of first-degree murder in motorcyclist's road-rage killing

All of the witnesses saw a commotion at the intersection. It happened during a stoplight that Parker said, “seemed like the longest light ever.”

All of them saw a heavy-set man — Roger Dale Nobles Jr., who is Nobles’ son — outside of the truck his father was driving. He was arguing with Addison, who by that time was off his bike. The two men had been arguing at each other since a previous intersection further north on Skibo, according to Fisher.

Taber in her opening statement said Addison pushed the “300-pound man” as he came at him.

Then: Bang!

The bullet from the elder Nobles’ gun pierced through Addison's chest — and through time and life itself.

Addison fell.

Time stands still

Bailey, who had a bad feeling when she saw the argument between the younger Nobles and Addison escalate, began recording on her phone. She captured video of the killing, which is a key piece of evidence for the District Attorney’s office. She also snapped a picture of the Nobleses’ truck's license plate as they drove off when the light changed — as if nothing had happened.

Parker's dad heard the gunshot over the phone. She rushed to help those already assisting Addison: “In the middle of the day on your lunch break and you see somebody get shot. It was like watching a movie.”

Jones said he had dashed over from Enterprise and grabbed Addison before he fell. He said right before the bullet rang out, he heard someone yell, ‘Move!” and Nobles Jr. turned. (Defense lawyer Brewer, in cross-examination, brought out that Jones had not mentioned this detail in his interview with law enforcement.)

Jones took off Addison’s helmet as the dying man lay on the ground. He borrowed what he said was plastic from Parker to try to staunch the blood from the chest wound. He can be heard in the background of Bailey’s 911 call saying “Don’t quit! Don’t quit!” He prayed loudly that the bullet would not find an organ inside Addison, but the bullet did — an autopsy found it pierced Addison’s heart and a lung.

Fisher helped put Addison on his side while another man tried to see if there was an exit wound. “Time like that kind of stands still,” he said.

EMTs with the fire department and police officers responded within minutes. But it was all no use.

Engel, the forensics tech, said that as she began collecting evidence at the crime scene she “got word the victim had succumbed to the injuries.”

Bailey and Parker both openly cried in court as they recounted the scene. Afterward, outside the courtroom, the two women shared a tight, teary-eyed hug as they got ready to go to the elevators and depart.

One bullet, one direction

I meditated Wednesday on how a single bullet can change so many lives. The awful memory may lessen with age, but that is only like the edge of a brittle old photograph where the centerpiece image remains hard and clear as January.

Nobles, who sports a salt-and-pepper beard and was dressed in a pale polo short-sleeve, watched with a neutral expression as testimony played out.

One of the forensics photographs broadcast in court showed the cab of his old, full-sized Chevy truck. The truck looked lived-in. It looked like the person who owned it got a lot of enjoyment out of it.

Nobles has been in the county jail since his arrest. He spent his birthday Tuesday in jail. He faces life in prison. If he is convicted, he may not see the outside world again.

He may never sit in that truck or maybe any truck again. He probably wishes he could have that moment back.

But time goes in just one direction.

Myron B. Pitts can be reached at mpitts@fayobserver.com or 910-486-3559.

This article originally appeared on The Fayetteville Observer: Pitts: ‘The longest light ever’ for witnesses in Fayetteville roadway killing