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Tom "Treeman" Davis appeared happy, left questions behind

 
Most who knew Tom Davis called him by his nicknames “Noah” or “Treeman.”
Most who knew Tom Davis called him by his nicknames “Noah” or “Treeman.”
Published May 31, 2015

ST. PETERSBURG — Tom Davis often perched on a bar stool drinking Jack Daniels and Coke.

He talked about his time in the Marines, skydiving, and his side job removing venomous snakes and coyotes.

The Times and other publications wrote about Mr. Davis, better known as "Treeman" or "Noah," removing a hive of bees that stung a pit bull to death and clearing Clearwater Central Catholic High of rattlesnakes.

He had a darker side, too. His criminal record included jail time for burglary, driving under the influence and bad checks. But for the past several years he had cut back on his drinking and seemed happy.

So it came as a shock to this tight-knit circle of friends when authorities on May 1 found Mr. Davis in a motel room, a belt looped around his neck.

He was 57. The Pinellas-Pasco Medical Examiner's Office has ruled the death a suicide.

If he struggled with depression, Mr. Davis hid it well. Regulars at the 49th Street Pub knew him as an irrepressible chatterbox.

"We used to post a sign behind the bar that said, 'Shut up, Noah,' " said Jennifer Crea, 44. When Mr. Davis got too long-winded, she said, "Everybody would just point at the sign."

He was always trying to recruit people to go with him to Skydive City in Zephyrhills, and told friends he had made more than 120 jumps.

"He skydived into my back yard in the '90 with a couple of his buddies," said Tom Query, 73, of Wesley Chapel, who had spray painted an "X" in the yard as a target.

Realtor Felix Fudge and car wash owner Dick Lane, longtime customers of Davis' Treeman Tree Services, described him as hard-working and dependable.

"Everybody was 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.'," said Lane, 67. "He never called you by your first name."

Though he lived apart from his two children much of their lives, he had been rekindling a relationship with daughter Doni Davis, who lives in Michigan. Doni, 22, said her father took her jet skiing and skydiving, showed her what sting rays look like and introduced her to raw oysters.

"We've done amazing things," she said.

Thomas Herbert Davis was born in Maryland in 1958. According to older brother Ray Davis, Mr. Davis' father fatally shot himself at age 42. Mr. Davis moved with his family to Brandon as an infant.

He graduated from Brandon High, then enlisted in the Marines, where he learned parachuting. He had two children, Donielle and Noah, by two different women, marrying neither.

Over 27 years, Mr. Davis was arrested 19 times. Apart from traffic offenses, that record ended after domestic battery charges in 2006 were dropped. The heavy drinking stopped then too, friends say.

"He never laid a hand on me," said Suzann Newhouse, 58, Mr. Davis' girlfriend for nearly a decade.

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Nonetheless, his lifestyle offended Ray Davis enough to disown his brother.

"He has screwed over every person that has tried to help him in his life," said Ray Davis, 69. "I won't let him on my property."

Newhouse, an insurance claims adjuster, met Mr. Davis when he was cutting down a tree nearby. They ended up seeing a movie together. For years, they have shared a duplex in a leafy suburb near Haines Road N.

Newhouse keeps news clippings about his snake retrievals and snapshots of pythons and boa constrictors. As she spoke about Mr. Davis recently to a reporter, a friendly chocolate Labrador retriever named Sadie brought toys to the visitor or lounged on the couch beside Newhouse.

These past several years had been the best of Mr. Davis' life, Newhouse said. It was a lifestyle he feared he was about to lose.

In 2014, Mr. Davis was cited for driving on a suspended license and improper window tinting on his work truck. He was to appear before a judge April 29.

He got his license restored, according to Public Defender Bob Dillinger.

Prosecutors and Davis' defense lawyers had agreed on a sentence of just probation, Newhouse said. But because of his record, which included several citations for driving with a suspended license, Mr. Davis thought the judge might lock him up, perhaps for as long as 18 months.

His drinking, tamped down for years, shot up through March and April to a fifth of bourbon a night, friends say. On April 22, he kissed Newhouse as she left for work. When she came home, he was gone.

He never answered her calls or texts, and she never saw him again.

Mr. Davis failed to show up at his hearing April 29. Circuit Judge Cathy McKyton issued a warrant for his arrest. He was found dead in a Knights Inn motel two days later.

"It's been a shock to everybody," said Janet McCann, 66, who owns the 49th Street Pub. A few nights before he died, McCann said, "He had been telling me what a great relationship he had with his girlfriend and how happy he was."

In retrospect, small actions Mr. Davis took in the weeks before leaving his home have taken on new meaning for Newhouse. He had taken to doing odd jobs around the house, she said, things he had been putting off. For example, he had restored some paving stones in the yard that had been made uneven by tree roots.

"I think he was planning this," she said. As for a reason, she could only come up with his court hearing.

"The whole thing with the court date and going to prison really messed with his head," she said.

It turns out, Mr. Davis needn't have worried. According to Dillinger, Mr. Davis likely would have faced a less serious offense of driving with no valid license and paid a small fine for the window tinting.

"I asked his lawyer if the judge had done anything to put fear into the defendant and she said no," Dillinger said.

Doni Davis was to visit her father again in October. Instead she attended a celebration of life May 9 at the bar, where regulars took turns at the mic telling stories about an exuberant and energetic man who had killed himself.

"Hopefully one day it makes sense," Doni Davis said. "But I don't know if it ever will."

Contact Andrew Meacham at ameacham@tampabay.com or (727) 892-2248. Follow @torch437.