Louisiana, B-C, 1837-1995, Undated

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ain. If you

had killed him you would have made some

man do the dirty work.”

The girl ran a hand through her glossy
black hair and laughed disdainfully.

“What do you think I am,” she said,
“a sissy? 'll take you to the body and
you can see for yourself,”

The policemen did not believe her. It
was incredible that. this young woman
could have committed such a coldblooded
murder, But then, was it? They were
positive that this was another bit of boast-
ing but they decided to let her talk, now
that she seemed willing.

The questioning went on. With shock-
ing, brutal frankness, Toni recited her
story to the still unbelieving officers, With
obvious pride in her voice she said that
she and her accomplice, to whom she now
referred as the “little yellow rat,” thumbed
a ride with Calloway. Then they held
him up and robbed him, she said, and
locked him in the turtleback of the coupe.
After driving several miles, she continued,
she dragged him out of the car and forced
hint to walk across a rice field to a hay-
stack and disrobe. Then as he knelt in
prayer she shot him between the eyes.

The story was too incredible, too fan-
tastic. The officers knew that Toni Jo
Hood was a woman with a steel will but
they could not believe this tale. Tt did
not make sense,

The officers put pressure on her to
obtain the name of her accomplice but the
only answer was a brittle laugh. :

“He's a dirty little rat who would
squeal plenty if he were caught,” she said.

“But I won't tell on him though he de-
serves it. He turned yellow on me. The
last time I saw him was on the road be-
tween Camden and ElDorado, Arkansas.
He refused to go through so L knocked
him over the head with a gun butt and
left him unconscious in the ear.”

“He refused to go through with what?”
McQuiston asked sharply.

“Why,” the woman said blandly, “he
refused to help me rob the bank at Har-
rell, Arkansas. He had told me he knew
of a bank there we could take. We drove
to Harrell after I shot Calloway and
cased the joint. Then the rat turned yel-
low.”

The more she talked the more ‘Toni Jo's
story seemed to weaken, Why wauld
this woman want to rob a bank? What
was back of this story of murder and
robbery? ‘The weary officers proceeded
with the’ questioning but received nothing
but quiet and mocking evasion. Then as
suddenly as she had begun boasting about
the murder, she stopped the officers again
and began talking about her motive.

Toni Jo Hood, defiant and calculating
“Scarlett O'Hara” of the Louisiana un.
derworld, announced that she had robbed
and killed for the sake of her “man.” Like
the other “Scarlett” she had uséd a weaker
man to help her work for another.

HIer “man” was her husband, Claude
D. “Cowboy” Henry, who was serving a
life sentence in the Texas state peni-
tentiary for the murder of a policeman.

Toni Jo coaxed her blond companion
of the highways into burglary and murder
to obtain the guns and car necessary for
a bank robbery. She intended to use the
proceeds of the bank robbery to try to
obtain her husband’s freedom. She in-
tended to let nothing stand in her way,
Murder was a minor item if it: were cs-
sential in promoting her plans.

“He is the only man I love and I don’t
regret anything I’ve done,” she said de-
fiantly,

Authorities in Lake Charles were noti-

fied of Toni’s capture and arrangements
were made immediately for her transfer
carly the following morning. There was
still quite an amount of disbelief among
the officials in Shreveport that the slender,
pretty girl could have committed one
of the most cold-blooded crimes in the
criminal history of Louisiana.

Shortly after dawn Capt. McQuiston
and Capt. Atkins, accompanied by Sergt.
Walker, set out on the trip with their pris-
oner down to Lake Charles through the
bleak, wintry countryside. The raven-
haired trigger-girl sat silent in the car
between the officers.

In Lake Charles, Capt. Jones, rewarded
for the fine ground-work he had previ-
ously done on the case by the arrival of
the prisoner, took charge of the further
investigation,

Accompanied by jovial, burly Fremont
Le Bleu, Louisiana state trooper, Jones
set out immediately to test the girl’s
statement. The police were skeptical.
They doubted her story. But they were
convinced that she knew what had hap-
pened.

The girl led them south of Lake
Charles off the main highway and directed
them in a labyrinth of dirt and gravel
roads which criss-cross the countryside.

“T can’t remember the place exactly,”
she announced, coolly, “but [ll find it,
don’t worry.”

Driving rain, clouding the windshields
and shrouding the countryside with an
almost impenetrable cloak of dampness,
hampered the search. The car skidded
along the rain-drenched roads, At times
it stuck in the engulfing mud and had to
be pulled out with skill and patience.

Reach Scene

AS THE hours slipped by with no re-
sults, Capt. Jones remarked wearily:
“Toni, you're lying. You don't. know
where that body is and you had nothing
to do with the killing.”

“I’m not lying,” she retorted evenly,
turning her head for an instant from the
car window through which she had been
watching the changing landscape of roads,
vast fields and small, snug farnes.

On went the weary search, through the
rain and mud that splashed about) the
rocking patrol car.

Nearly four hours of fruitless search
had passed when Toni pointed to two
huge haystacks looming in the distance,

“There it is,” she said, pointing a red-
nailed forefinger,

In tense silence, Jones piloted the car
near the spot which the girl had indicated.
He stopped before the wire fence which
separated the field with the two towering
haystacks from the road. Trooper LeBleu
clambered over the enclosure and a mo-
ment later vanished from view. When he
reappeared a short while later, horror
was written over his face.

“It's there,” he announced thickly, visi-
bly shaken by the horror he had sighted.

A half hour later the lonely, secluded
spot had sprung into life with the din of
voices, the roar of official automobiles
and sharp orders of officers.

Sheriff Henry A. Reid of Lake Charles
took charge of the further course of the
probe.

Upon the arrival of Coroner Dr. EK. 1.
Clement, there was a cursory post-
mortem examination of the hapless vic-
tim’s body.

According to the findings of the emi-
nent Lake Charles physician, Calloway
was shot just between the eyes and death

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47

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wis instantaneous. The bullet had en-
tered the forehead, taking, a starting
course to the base of the skull.

Dr. Clement further expressed the
opinion that Calloway was stooping, sit-
ting, or kneeling when the murderous
slug struck him. Thus the coroner cor-
roborated Toni’s admission that she had
shot Calloway as he was finishing his
prayer, Ton watched the proceedings
with an air of disinterest,

When the investigators returned to
the courthouse, the placid town was still
in ignorance of the gruesome discovery.
Upon entering his office, the sheriff was
called by his secretary.

“There's a phone call for you, Sheriff,
from Jennings.”

Jennings? ‘The gray-haired sheriff
couldn’t help wondering. Jennings was
the place where Calloway was supposed
to deliver the automobile.

A voice came over the wire. “This is
the man to whom Calloway was to de-
liver the car.”

During the explanation of the purpose
for the call, a puzzled scowl creased
Sheriff Reid’s face.

“A fellow called here a few minutes
ago,” the man reported. “In a gruff,
coarse voice he said, ‘Don’t pay any at-
tention to the murder rumors in Lake
Charles,’ and then he hung up with a
bang.”

How could anyone in Jennings have in-
formation on the murder’ Not even in
Lake Charles did the people have any
inkling that the vicinity of their town had
been the scene of a grucsome tragedy.
The whole investigation had been con-
ducted in secrecy. Calloway's body had
been recovered hardly an hour earlier.

Informed of the mysterious call, Capt.
Jones said instantly, “Only Toni’s ac-
complice could have been the caller and
he’s apparently hiding out in Jennings.”

Uncommunicative but nonetheless
jaunty, the new “Scarlett” walked into
the coroner’s inquest that afternoon and
swept the assembty of grim-faced, em-
bittered men with a cold mocking glance.

“T refuse to make any statement,” she
announced, She would say no more.

Obtain Warrant

N SUNDAY, Feb. 19, Sheriff H. A.

Reid obtained a warrant charging.
the cold-blooded trigger won with
murder.

Monday came, and the hunt for Toni’s
mysterious accomplice was. still without
result, More stubborn and defiant than
before, the gun girl persisted in her si-
lence, refusing to put the finger on the
man to whom she still referred with deep-
est contempt as the “yellow. little rat.”

“Rat is right,” Capt. Jones said to the
sheriff that morning, “but we've got to
trap him. ‘There ought to be someone
able to make her talk.”

The sheriff raised a quizzical brow.

“Cowboy! That convict husband of
hers. «She's insane about him. He might
be able to change her mind,”

Wires hummed. A meeting was ar-
ranged between Toni and Cowboy for
that same afternoon in the Beaumont jail.
Claude D. “Cowboy” Henry was brought
from the Huntsville penitentiary, Toni
from the Calcasieu parish prison in Lake
Charles.

For half an hour the two prisoners
were allowed to face each other in com-
plete privacy. The plan worked. As
soon as the pathetic mecting in a dreary
cell of the Beaumont jail was over, Toni

48

said she wanted to speak to Capt. Jones

and Sheriff Reid,

“1 didn’t shoot Calloway,” she defiantly
told the two officers this time. “He did
it.”

Jones and Reid exchanged a_ baffled,
annoyed glance.

“Who is he?” Jones snapped.

“T know him only as Arky,” the woman
replied coolly.

“Arky?" Jones whispered to the sheriff.
“Does that indicate he’s from Arkansas?”

The raven-haired girl overheard the
remark.

“He has relatives in Warren, Arkan-
sas,” she volunteered. “That's all I know.”

The hunt for the elusive accomplice
was galvanized into new life, embracing
Texas, Louisiana, and Arkansas. Crimi-
nal records were scanned in the search
for'a hoodlum nicknamed Arky. . Sheriff
C. W. Hickman of Warren, Ark., was
asked to help track down the dangerous
criminal.

A close watch on all suspicious stran-
gers was kept in Jennings where the baf-
fling telephone call had been made two
days before.

Sheriff A. M. Shaw of Arkadelphia,
where the Calloway car had been found
abandoned on a downtown street, also
was requested to cooperate in the frantic
manhunt. The FBI joined in the man-
hunt. ;

It was disappointing news to the
wearied officials when the Warren sheriff
announced after a thorough checkup that
a criminal under the name of “Arky” was
unknown in his city and that he had been
unable to connect even tentatively any
shady, suspicious individual with the fugi-
tive’s vague description.

Further developments altered the crazy
jiz-saw pattern even more in this strange
riddle. While most investigators be-
lieved that Toni’s accomplice had sought
refuge in southern Louisiana and pos-
sibly in the underworld hideouts of New
Orleans, word was received that a stran-
ger, answering the description of the
elusive Arky had sold two guns ina pawn-
shop in Texarkana. Before a checkup
could be made as to whether the guns, as
suspected, were part of the Beaumont
loot, another piece of news exploded over
the official radios.

A sandy-haired, slender youth with a
claw-like, crippled middle-finger had
pawned a gold wristwatch, believed to be
Calloway's property, in Arkadelphia only

a few hours after he had pledged the two ,

guns in near-by Texarkana.

As Tuesday, Feb. 20, was drawing to a
close, U. S. Army authorities in San An-
tonio, Tex., unexpectedly enlisting their
assistance, supplied sensational informa-
tion to the investigators.

The military authorities reported that
from the broadcast description, Arky
seemed to be a deserter from the 62nd
battalion, The real name of the deserter
was Harold Finnon Burke. He was de-
scribed as a native of Oklahoma who had
spent the greater part of his life in Texas.
Ile had relatives living in Warren, Ark.

A checkup with Texas authorities re-
vealed that Burke had a criminal record in
several cities there and was known also
as William Lloyd Adams and Kermit
Haygood.

Sheriff Reid, upon receiving this de-
cisive bit of news, immediately called
Sheriff C. W. Hickman in Warren.

At the end of the conversation, Hick-
man announced curtly:

“Tf think I know now where I can find
the man you're looking for.”

At 10 o’clock that night Sheriff Hick-
man, accompanied by an FBI agent anda
deputy, pounded at the door of an old
dilapidated shack on the outskirts of
Warren.

A pasty-faced youth in shirt sleeves an-
swered the door a_few moments later.
He stared at the officials’ faces with un-
ruffled calm.

“Come on, Burke,” the sheriff spoke up.
“Vou're wanted for murder.”

The youth's face twitched = slightly.
Then he nodded, stepped down the porch
steps and followed the officers in silence.

Grilled, he denied having fired the fatal
shot.

“T was waiting in the car,” he said.
“Toni bumped off that guy.”

Burke related that he had flagged a
battered Lincoln-Zephyr car while Toni
was waiting hidden behind a tree on the
roadside. Unheard by the driver, Toni
had half shouted to him that the car
wasn't good enough for their sinister pur-
pose, the planned bank holdup in Harrell,
Ark. He denied, however, that Toni had
slugged and abandoned him unconscious
in the car somewhere on an Arkansas
road,

“We checked into a hotel in Camden,
Arkansas, after the shooting. In the
morning we quarreled. I left Toni and
drove the car to Arkadelphia where | left
it on the street because I was afraid I

would be caught with a stolen car.”

Goes To Trial

RS. CLAUDE D. HENRY, alias

Toni Jo Hood, alias Annie Beatrice
Mequiston, the family name under which
she was married to Cowboy Ilenry—went
on trial for the torture murder of J. P.
Calloway, March 27.

Again she flatly contradicted her first
confession in which she admitted having
fred the murder bullet. She placed the
blame on her accomplice, Horace Finnon
Burke. During the three-day trial the
confident and defiant girl maintained a
provocative attitude, never showing the
lightest regret about her inhuman deed.
Repeatedly she broke out into tinkling
laughter, shocking the breathless court-
room audience.

When Court Clerk O. Jennings Gil read
the jury’s verdict finding the defendant
guilty as charged, Toni fixed an unflinch-
ing gaze upon him.

A moment later she seemed to realize
the meaning of the verdict. She would
have to pay for her crime with death on
the gallows. Ter face brightened incredi-
bly in a cynical smile and once more full-
throated cascades of her laughter fell
into the silence of the courtroom.

“You wanted to see. me cry!” she
shouted tauntingly.

District Judge John T. Hood did not
pass sentence immediately, in order to
enable the trigger-girl’s counsel to pre-
pare an appeal for a new trial,

This appeal was denied in the ensuing
three weeks, and the sentence was im-
posed on April 24, 1940. ;

Toni Jo Hood, modern “Scarlett” who
killed to help her “man” will have to pay
on the gallows for one of the most brutal
crimes in the history of the South. Unless
the governor of Louisiana should inter-
vene, she will be the second woman in
that state to die on the gallows.

As this is written, Harold Burke, the
weakling deserter used by the strong-
willed woman in her plot for freedom for
the man she loved, is awaiting trial on
a charge of murder.

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ice who was haled
the time Calloway
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urish of his hand.
before last a hard-
have sent a pete
icked up some If-.
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In the Calcasieu parish courthouse at
Lake Charles the closing chapters of
the grim drama were enacted. Below,
“Scarlett” Toni Jo is seen peering
through the bars at Capt. John W.
Jones, left, and Sheriff Reid.

the left corner of his mouth. His left middle finger is supposed to be stiff
and crooked.”

“Chief,” Jones exclaimed, his voice tense and vibrant, “I’d bet my bottom
dollar that this crook is involved in the Calloway disappearance. His de
scription fits generally that of the suspicious hitchhiker.”

Jones paused for a moment. “Incidentally,” he asked, “what was stolen
from the hardware store?”

“Sixteen pistols, every caliber,” Chief Maddox replied slowly.

The law enforcement agencies throughout Louisiana roared into action
trying to run down the latest lead in the Calloway mystery. Motorcycle
patrols raced along the slippery, fog-swept highways of the blustery February
night. Cars were stopped, papers examined, tourist camps and lodging houses
searched, Police in the larger cities combed underworld hangouts and picked
up suspicious characters for questioning. Chief Grosch of New Orleans, one
of the most efficient crime-busters of the country, was particularly alert when
he learned that the Beaumont burglar had chosen the Crescent City as his
next field of criminal operations.

But the work was fruitless. There was no trace of the elusive burglar who
definitely seemed to have slipped through the fine-woven net the law had
spread for him. Nor were there any other clues discovered which would have
helped to unravel the steadily deepening mystery of the vanished Calloway.

The First Break

T WAS a long-distance phone call, jangling shrilly into the morning still-

ness of Capt. Jones’ office in Lake Charles, that was to thrust the investiga-
tion into entirely new channels,

At Jones’ response, Chief Maddox spoke quickly.

“We have found twelve of the stolen guns,” said the Beaumont officer.

Jones’ hand stiffened on the receiver. “Where?” he asked.

Chief Maddox began to explain. The guns had been discovered in the garret
of a house of ill repute in Beaumont. One of the girls’ rooms was being re-
paired and the ceiling had been partly torn open. The guns apparently were
carried into the garret through that opening.

“Did you arrest the woman?” Jones interrupted.

“No,” Maddox said, “she’s gone. She cleared out of town two days ago
about the same time the suspected burglar disappeared.”

Jones nodded thoughtfully. ‘‘Who’s the woman 2?” he asked.

[Continued on page 46]

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Murderous “Scarlett O'Hara’

[Continued from page 33)

““She’s known as Toni Jo Hood,” Mad-
dox replied, “and also is called Red Rib-
bon Toni because she always has her
black hair tied with red ribbon, } under-
stand she has quite a criminal record in
various cities. Her real name is Mrs.
Claude D. Henry.”

In the same hour the official wires
were humming with a message request-
ing the authorities throughout the state
to arrest Toni Jo Hood, 23 years old, 5
feet 8 inches in height, slender and well-
shaped, wearing a red ribbon in her
glossy, black hair.

When the alert desk sergeant at
Shreveport, La., headquarters received
the message, he chuckled and turned to
face the room. “Toni is in a fix again,”
he said to a few detectives who were
standing in the reception room.

The officers shrugged. They all knew
Toni well. In Shreveport she had a long
record. She was known as one of the
hardest and smartest kids in the rough
section of the city. She was respected for
her physical strength and officers who
arrested her were always on guard. They
knew her as a shrewd, ruthless woman.

With vigor and determination the hunt
for the burglar of the Beaumont hard-
ware store was extended to include the
girl, Toni, now established as his accom-
plice. Posses still were roaming the
woods, roadsides, and little-traveled lanes
along Highway 90 in search of the hapless
business man from ILouston, Tex.

Late Friday night, Feb. 16, 1940, a mes-
sage flashed from Arkadelphia, Ark., hurl-
ing the police from. Beaumont to New
Orleans and up to Shreveport into fever-
ish excitement.

“An abandoned car, bearing the license
number of Calloway’s little coupe, was
found parked on the main street of the
city,” the Arkadelphia police radioed to
the Louisiana law enforcement agencies,

The message reported that the car
doors were locked and had to be pried
open. Inside the car, were found an
empty whisky bottle, hair pins, innumera-
ble cigaret butts, some of them stained
with lip rouge, empty cartridges and a
red hair ribbon. Here was a definite link
between the disappearance of Calloway,
the hardware burglary and the scheming
Toni Hood.

Capt. Jones, in Lake Charles immedi-
ately contacted the head of the FBI in
New Orleans. Ina rapid consultation the
two officials agreed that the federal au-
thoritics should take a hand in the search
for the elusive hitchhiker and the miss-
ing “Scarlett O’Hara” as the stolen car
had been transported from one state into
another.

The red ribbon, discovered by the
Arkadelphia police in the abandoned
Calloway car could mean only one thing:
Toni Jo Hood, the cool, deliberate woman
whose scheming had caused trouble often,
was without doubt involved in the car
theft and the burglary, and more likely
than not she knew all about Calloway’s
disappearance.

The fact that the car was found in
Arkadelphia indicated to the frantically
working investigators that the hi-jackers
had fled Loujsiana in a northern direction
and probably were hiding out in Arkan-
sas. The search for news of the girl’s
latest movements and plans was re-

46

doubled through Northern Louisiana and
Arkansas. The Shreveport police, familiar
with her ways, launched a particular ef-
fort. Toni Jo had been there before.

Late that night, in the din and clatter of
a smoke-shrouded, Shreveport dive
known as a hangout of underworld char-
acters, Sergt. Jack Walker and a plain-
clothesman were in a whispered conver-
sation with a sharp-faced, small-sized
individual.

Suddenly the two officers rose to their
feet. Their search had produced results.
Their suspicions had been right. Toni
Jo Hood could not resist bragging about
her success.

The detectives strode out into the crisp,
clear night.

A short while later they knocked at a
door in a cheap rooming house on the out-
skirts of the city. “Open up!” Walker

EXECUTION DELAYED

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Execution of Carl Summerfield for
murder of New York Policeman
Timothy Murphy (DYNAMIC DE-
TECTIVE Aug. 1939) was delayed
recently pending retrial of three
accomplices.

called. The sound of his voice reverber-
ated in the murky hallway. :

Ears close to the locked door, their
hands tense around the grips of their
guns, the officers waited, A shuffle of
dainty feet was heard inside, then the
noise of a drawer pulled open. With
lightning-like suddenness Walker threw
himself with the whole weight of hig bod
against the door, smashing it open with
a crashing thud.

A tall, slender girl, clad in flimsy red
pajama trousers anda black blouse, deftly
as a cat threw shut the half-open drawer
of a desk chest. ;

She turned around slowly, facing the
detectives with a smile.

“Well, Toni,” Walker said quietly. “I
see you're back in town again.”

The smile vanished on the girl’s face
abruptly. Her smoldering eyes glared
into the officers’ faces.

“Trying to play with a gun?” the ser-
geant asked as he walked over to the

'

chest. He reached inside the top drawer
and pulled out a revolver. Fora second
he stared at it musingly. That fiery-
tempered girl would not have hesitated to
use the gun if she had a chance. Both
officers knew that.

“You lost a hair ribbon not long ago,
didn’t you, Toni?” Walker continued
after a short pause as he lighted a cigaret
with slow, studied gestures.

The girl’s face darkened. Her eyes
seemed to flash fire as she flared up, burst-
ing out with a stormy and indignant pro-
test.

“Now get dressed in decent clothes and
come along,” Walker replied mildly. “We
have a few questions to ask you.”

At. state police headquarters Capt.
George McQuiston and Capt. J. L. Atkins
started to question the defiant, vibrant
woman, but first Chief Maddox in Beau-
mont was contacted with the question as
to whether the pistol found in her posses-
sion was one of those stolen from the
hardware store. Within a short time the
answer was received. The serial num-
bers checked. Toni Jo Hood was defi-
nitely linked with the burglary. How-
ever,-there was little evidence to connect
this impulsive, headstrong girl with the
disappearance of Calloway.

With grim, intent faces, Capt. Mc-
Quiston and Capt. Atkins started the
quizzing which was to last almost all
night.

“Toni, this time we have the real goods
on you,” Atkins announced sternly, try-
ing a shot in the dark. “You would like
to be a big time operator who outsmarts
the law and beats every rap. Well, maybe
you were a little bit too smart for your
own good. You wanted to impress a
couple of cheap punks in a beer saloon
by bragging how a man robbed a hard-
ware store for you in Beaumont and stole
sixteen guns. You have always loved to
make men do things for you. But this
time your bragging may put the noose
around your neck. We have found the
guns and the car. Now we want you to
tell us what you know about Calloway’s
disappearance.”

A defiant, derisive smile touched the
xirl’s lips. Toni Jo Hood was only 23
years old but for years men had been
anxious to do her bidding. She had been
able to get what she wanted from men
with a minimum of effort. This modern
“Searlett” could not be bothered.

Hour after hour the officers fired ques-
tions at her and always her storm-filled
eyes seemed to dare them to find the
answers. She mocked her inquisitors.
If they thought they knew something, let
them prove it. The questioning went on.

Suddenly the girl halted the stream of
questions with a wave of her hand.

“You want to know what happened to
Calloway?” she asked coolly, staring at
the policemen a moment before continu-
ing. “Well, I'll tell you. I killed him.
I'll tell you where you can find him, He’s
out somewhere near Lake Charles behind
a haystack. Don’t look for his clothes.
I took them. I treated him decently, like
a Christian. I made him kneel and pray.
Then I bumped him.”

The woman shrugged and waited to see
what effect her words would have.

“I do not believe you,” Capt. Atkins
said. “You are bragging again. If you

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mistress of
southiand crime

BY CHARLES BOSWELL

Teen no use mentioning the girl’s family name, Such
mention would only serve to rub salt in old wounds, and
back ten to fifteen years ago, when every flashy move she
made and every flashy word she uttered were headlines, the
girl’s family, innocent though they were, suffered wounds
by the score. Suffice it to say, she was christened Annie
Beatrice—a nice name, a ladylike name—but a name not
to her taste, and one that by no means fitted what she
eventually became. .

As a child, the girl began calling herself Toni Jo. This
had a boyish sound to it, and yet, in certain moments, the
girl was as feminine as Eve. But there were streaks of
hardness, fearlessness and cruelty in her more often asso-
ciated with the male of the species. Yes, the name suited
her.

The newspapers later gave her a more appropriate name.
They called her “Tiger Girl’—-and with reason. She had
the sleek grace of the tiger, the lithé beauty of the tiger,
the jungle cunning of the tiger and the tiger’s formidable
ability to kill.

Toni Jo was born near Shreveport, La., the daughter
of what they call in the South “nice people.” Her mother

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died when she was a child, and while still a child—at the
age of 15—she left home. But she was a child in years
only, Her body was mature. Tall and willowy, she had
the lean legs of a dancer, the full, provocative breasts of
a strip-tease queen and a head and face which could have
won her a job as a’ Powers model. Toni Jo’s raven-black
hair hung to her shoulders—a wild mane flying in the
wind when she was in action. Her eyes were deep-set,
dark, brooding and sultry. Her lips were full, blood-red
and sensual, yet capable of a curling snarl when her tigerish
instincts were fully aroused,

At 16, Toni Jo married a young Shreveport businessman,
Had he remained with her, she would have broken him
financially with her extravagances, broken him physically
with her night-long carousings and broken his heart with
her infidelities.

Men swarmed around Toni Jo, and in those early years
she met them on their own terms. After but a few months,
her husband got rid of her, with legal cause aplenty, and
she was once more on her own. ;

She remained in and around Shreveport until 1937, when
she turned 21, During this period, the police came to know

— Sex

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of life. But she failed once

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“even if we don’t use them. And we need
a car.” : ‘

A few nights later, Toni Jo got the guns
by the simple process of stealing them
from a Beaumont -sporting goods store,
the rear of which was accessible from an
alley. Carrying a suitcase, she broke a
rear window, climbed in, cleaned out a
showcase display of revolvers and am-
munition, and was out again in a couple
of minutes.

But as she emerged from the alley,
there was.a slip-up. A policeman stopped
her. “What you been doing back there,
sister?” .

Toni Jo gave the officer one of her
coyest smiles and adjusted her skirt with
a tug at the waist. “When a girl has to
go, she has to go,” she laughed, “and
though I’ve been walking for hours, J
haven’t come across a ladies’ room for
blocks and blocks. Can you direct me to
the railroad station? I’m’a stranger in
town.”

The policeman smiled and showed her
the way. When she got back to her apart-
ment and opened the suitcase, Arky
gasped with amazement. All told, she got
sixteen revolvers, mostly .32s and .38s.

The next day was Wednesday, Febru-
ary 14, 1940. In-the late afternoon, Toni
Jo, armed with a purse-size .32, and Arky
with two .38s tucked in his belt, beneath
his jacket, began hitchhiking to Camden.
Ark., about 350 miles to the northeast.

On the outskirts of Beaumont, the
driver of a Lincoln Zephyr, headed east,
picked them up. He was a pint-sized fel-
low, hardly able to see over his steering
wheel. When he,stopped for gas and got
out of the car to inspect the tires, Arky
whispered to Toni Jo: “What do you say?
He seems like a guv who'd be easy to
manage. And the car’s a fast one—right?
When we get out in the country a ways,
let’s take over.”

But Toni Jo frowned and shook her
head. “The man’s not big enough,” she
said, “not big enough for what I want.
We'll ride with him as far as Orarige and
ect out, and then we'll catch us another
ride.”

Wonderingly, Arky shrugged his ac-
quiescence. They alighted from the
Lincoln at Orange, and the driver, un-
aware of the fate from which his diminu-
tive stature had saved him, continued on.
Then a new green Ford sedan bearing
Texas plates N-10-754, came along and
stopped at Toni Jo’s signal. The driver
was a big-framed, middle-aged man, who
sat high behind the wheel. “Where you
going?” he asked genially.

“New Orleans,” said Toni Jo, smiling
her prettiest. “We're on our honeymoon.”

The driver threw open the door and
invited them in. He was Joseph P. Callo-
way from Houston.

“Good day to start off on a marriage,”
he chuckled, “February 14th—Valentine’s
Day.”

A cold shudder ran up Toni Jo’s back-
bone, and a dark, curious look clouded her
face. A little later, as the shadows of
night began closing in, the girl’s expres-
sion became even more clouded but not
merely because of the failing light of day.

The Ford and its three occupants
crossed the Sabine River and passed
through the town of Sulphur, La. Here,
less than three months before, Toni Jo
and Cowboy Henry had been married, and
the memory affected the girl strangely.
Cowboy was imprisoned and millions of
other people were free. She and Cowboy
were man and wife yet prison walls
separated them. Passing through Sulphur

on Valentine’s Day made Toni Jo want’

to weep, not only with longing, but with
a bitter, burning hatred for conventional
society.

As the Ford sped along, the lights of

Lake Charles, the seat of Calcasieu
Parish, illuminated the sky ahead. Arky
sat in the middle, next to the driver, and
Toni Jo sat next to the door. With her
left elbow, she gave Arkya significant jab”
in the ribs, but he made no responsive*
move.
So Toni Jo herself took action. When
she “saw a side road ahead, she opened
her purse, pulled the .32, leveled it at
Calloway and said coldly: “Mister, this
is a stickup. We want your money, this
car—and your clothes. If you don’t turn
down that road, I’m going to put a bullet
through your brains.”

The gun and something in the girl’s
voice made Calloway comply without
protest.

When the car had been parked in the
side road the Tiger Girl and her victim got
out and stood alongside it. Toni Jo
leveled her gun at Calloway and made him
hand over his wallet and wristwatch. The
wallet contained $15, which Toni Jo kept
for herself, but she gave the wristwatch
to Arky. Then she commanded:

“Strip or I'll blow your brains out.”
Calloway removed his suit and shirt.

“Why?” asked’ Arky from where he
now sat behind the steering wheel of the
car. “What are we going to do with his
clothes?” :

“He’s the right size,” Toni Jo told him.
“The clothes will fit Cowboy when I get
him out.”

With her prisoner shivering in his
underwear, the girl ordered him into the
trunk compartment of the sedan. They
couldn’t leave him where he was, she
explained to Arky. There were houses
within a few hundred yards, and as soon
as they fled in the car, he would, give the
alarm.

Due to his size, Calloway had difficulty
fitting himself into the cramped confines
of the trunk. Toni Jo slammed down the
lid of the compartment, mashing the
man’s hand. At his cry of pain, the girl
cursed him, Then she locked the lid, got
in the car and ordered Arky to drive off.

They drove through Lake Charles and
then, by back roads, to a lonely stretch
of bayou country called Plateau Petit
Bois. They crossed over a bridge and
came to a field dotted with stacks of rice
chaff, like stacks of hay. Toni Jo told
Arky to stop the Ford. Then she unlocked
the trunk and ordered Calloway out.

“What's this?” the man asked fearfully.
His hand was bleeding. “Where are you
taking me?”

“You'll see,” said Toni Jo coldly. “Get
moving. Head across that field. I’m
gonna fix you so’s you won't squeal on
us—never. Turn the car around, Arky,
and I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The ex-con obeyed while Toni Jo and
her scantily clad prisoner disappeared in
the night.

Arky, with the engine idling, ‘sat wait-
ing. There was a sudden bark and a flash
of light over in the rice field.

Arky jumped. “What the hell?” he

“asked himself—and Toni Jo answered

him a moment later.

“That's that,” she said, stalking out of
the dark. She got in the car, blew down
the barrel of her revolver, threw open its
cylinder and ejected the cartridges, one
of which was empty.

“God, Toni Jo!” Arky cried. “You shot
that guy!”

“Between the eyes,” said Toni Jo.
“Killed him. What's eating you? Get
moving.”

‘had frequented

The pair went back through Lake
Charles and kept driving all night. They
crossed over into Arkansas and -were
headed for Camden. Throughout the
night, Arky bad mained strangely silent
and dully thought fa and his silence still-
gripped him. : :

Toni Jo drowsed as Arky drove. The
map she had been consulting dropped
from her lap. “That bank,” she yawned
about 9 a.m., “maybe we ought to let it
wait for tomorrow. We ought to be
alert.”

“Yeah,” said Arky. He seemed relieved.

“Let’s go to a hotel. There’s one in
Camden. Get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

They reached Camden, parked the Ford
in front of the hotel and got a room
which proved to have a double bed. Toni
Jo stripped, then slipped naked between
the sheets, moving over to make room for
her companion. “No funny business,” she
murmured sleepily. “Since I married Cow-
boy, there’s only one man for me.”

In different circumstances, Arky would
have been more than interested. But now
he remained dressed, paced up and down
and frequently glanced nervously out the
window. “Toni Jo,” he said after a bit,
“that car in front of the hotel. That’s not
such a good idea. If somebody spotted it,
they’d know right away where to find us.
I think I’ll move it around the corner.”

“Okay.”

“Tl be right back.”

“Okay.” ,

Arky left the room hurriedly. Toni
Jo’s eyes were already closed and in an-
other minute she was asiecep. “When she
awakened, the room was da-« with the
darkness of night, and she waz alone.

She sat up with a start, flung on her
clothes and left the hotel. The Ford
with the Texas plates was wowhere in
sight. ab:

“Arky—that dirty rat !” she fried aloud,
and people passing turned to stare at her.
“The yellow punk ditched me! If I ever
see him again, I'll really let him have it

Wild-eyed, Toni Jo hurried to a bus
station and bought a ticket to Shreveport,
her home town. Surely she could place
more reliance in any help she might re-
ceive in Shreveport than the “help” she
had found in Beaumont. Shreveport was
about 150 miles below Camden, and the
bus arrived there Thursday night.

The girl went immediately to a bar she
three years before and
got royally drunk. A number of her old
pals dropped in, and her reunion with
them was a wild one. She told about the
stolen Ford, about Arky, about Arky’s
running out on her and displayed the 32
in her purse. “You wouldn't believe it,”
she cried drunkenly, “but this little ’ol
gun killed a man down Lake Charies way
about 24 hours ago!”

By 3 o'clock in the morning, Toni Jo
was so drunk she couldn’t sit on a bar
stool, and a girl friend offered to take care
of her. Outside, they boarded a taxi, and
the driver took them to the girl friend’s
house.

Meanwhile, in Houston, Joseph Callo-
way’s wife grew worried. He had prom-
ised to call home as soon as he arrived
on Wednesday night.
Yet Mrs. Calloway had received mes-

the car had
The license num-
ber was broadcast throughout the south-
west, and on Thursday—about the time
Toni Jo was boarding the bus frem Cam-
den to Shreveport—the car was Jocated

iment nr ee

abandoned on a street in Arkadelphia,
Ark., 80 miles north of Camden.

Sheriff A. M. Shaw of Arkadelphia
made the discovery and examined the
vehicle. A man’s clothes_were bundled
up on the shelf backvithe seat, an empty
32 revolver shell lay on the floor and
in the trunk compartment there were
fresh bloodstains.

All of this information was broadcast
over police radio in Arkansas, Louisiana
and Texas. At the Shreveport barracks
of the Louisiana State Police, the broad-
cast found, around noontime Friday,
curious correlation.

A phone call came in from a man who
refused to identify himself. The caller
told about Toni Jo, the gun she carried
and avout her drunken boasts in the bar
some eleven to twelve hours earlier. State
Police Sgt. D. B. Walker investigated at
the bar and had no difficulty in locating
Toni Jo at the home of her girl friend.

Foni Jo was suffering from a racking
hangover, and perhaps this made her talk.
She confessed planning to spring Cow-
boy from Huntsville and enlisting Arky
in her cause. She confessed plotting to
rob the bank near Camden and participat-
ing in the theft of the Ford. But she de-
nied shooting Calloway.

“Arky did that,” she declared, ven-
‘ geance glowing in her eyes. “I begged
him not to, but he insisted. He marched
the poor guy out in the rice field below
Lake Charles and murdered him.”

Toni Jo handed over her gun to Ser-
geant Walker and was taken to his bar-
racks. There, Capt. J. L. Atkins joined in
the questioning, and the two officers at-
tempted to pry from Toni Jo further in-
formation with respect to Arky’s identity
and possible whereabouts. But the girl
denied knowing her erstwhile com-
panion’s real name, and said she had no
idea what had become of him after he
ran out on her in the Camden hotel.

Late Friday afternoon, the state police
removed Toni Jo from Shreveport to
their barracks at Lake Charles. Capt.
John W. Jones, commandant of the Lake
Charles district, took charge of her, and
he and Trooper Fremont LeBleu accom-
panied her on a tour of the Plateau Petit
Bois area in an attempt to find Calloway’s
body.

The attempt failed Friday night but
succeeded Saturday morning, February
17. Calcasieu Parish Coroner E.' L:
Clement removed a .32 revolver slug from
the murdered man’s brain, and when a
ballistics expert found that the slug had
been fired from Toni Jo’s gun, the police
looked on her with new interest.

By now, the tiger girl had recovered
from her devastating hangover and was
her old stormy self again. She ranted
about in her jail cell, cursed her captors
and in order to take pictures of her, the
parish sheriff, Henry Reid, had to hold her
head, vise-like, between his two hands.
Nothing would quiet her down until
some newspaperman mentioned Cowboy
Henry.-Then Toni Jo, with a soft, appeal-
ing look in her black eyes, called Sheriff
Reid to her cell.

They agreed that if the sheriff could
arrange for Toni Jo to be alone with her
husband for a half hour, she would dis-
close the identity of her confederate,
Arky. The sheriff got in touch with the
prison authorities at Huntsville and a
deal was made. Should Toni Jo’s in-
formation prove correct, she and Cowboy
Mere pote together. 5

So Toni Jo talked. She told at ,
being AWOL from the army Po a
his being a Huntsville alumnus, class of

ee Ty

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12

The victim’s body was hidden in a pile of rice chaff.
A .32 revolver slug had gone through his forehead,

In order to “mug” the Tiger Girl, Sheriff Reid was
forced’to hold her handsome head in a vise-like grip.

Murder was too much for “Arky” Burks, cowering
between Sheriff Reid (left) and Capt. John W. Jones.

her, but not as well as they would have liked—not well
enough to pin anything on her,

_ There were raids on dance halls of a suspicious nature,
on gambling dens and after-hours liquor joints. And some-
times, just ahead of the police, a slim black-haired girl
could be seen jumping from a window or racing off in a
speeding car. But to gain a conviction the police needed
witnesses, and witnesses were curiously reluctant to testify
against Toni Jo, ;

The word went around that she was a‘girl who knew
the meaning of vengeance and how to employ it. Toni Jo’s
handbag, the underworld said, contained more than a hand-
kerchief, a lipstick, a powder puff and a change purse.
Along the way, somebody had taught her the use of a knife
and somebody else the use of a gun. Men and women alike
were deathly afraid to cross Toni Jo,

In 1937, the girl left Shreveport and moved on. New
Orleans saw her, as did the fancy resorts along the gulf
—Gulfport and Biloxi—and then she hit Texas, Now she
was with one man, now with another, but they all had one
thing in common: they were criminals. ;

Yet whoever her partner was, Toni Jo dominated him,
and if they were successful at stickups, burglaries, car thefts

or whatever, her directing genius was accountable. Now:

and again, the police held Toni Jo briefly—on suspicion—
but they were never able to prove what they suspected-
Trapped by her thirst for a reckless life} the Tiger Girl
contracted the drug habit. The habit began with marijuana,
and led to heroin—light shots to start with, then the heavy
ones—until finally she was dully aware she couldn’t live
without the stuff, and that even with it, life was hardly
worth the struggle,
Help came quickly to Toni Je —tirough a chance meet-
ing with a man in a San. Antonio honky-tonk. His name
was Claude Henry, but his friends called him Cowboy.”
He was 26, stood six feet, weighed 200, and had hair nearly

as black as Toni Jo’s own. And he was handsome. There

was only one thing wrong with Cowboy Henry. He was
under indictment in Medina County, Texas, for the fatal
shooting of a one-time San Antonio policeman named

- Arthur Sinclair. The shooting had occurred two years

before, Cowboy had been tried once—a trial that ended in
a mistrial, Now he was free under heavy bond,

Toni Jo and Cowboy fell in love. It was a romance
blighted by the pasts of both lovers and yet a real romance
productive of fiery passion. Cowboy took away Toni Jo’s
drugs. He nursed her through her weeks of craving, took
her to a doctor and gave her the moral support necessary
for her comeback, On November 25, 1939, Toni Jo.and
Cowboy were married in Sulphur, La—just over the line

_ from Orange, Texas—and they went to California for their

honeymoon,

Never has there been a honeymoon so fearfully spent,
especially by the bride. Toni Jo was worried sick over the

outcome of Cowboy’s second trial, to be held in early Jan- ,

uary, and begged him not to return to Texas to face it.

“But I’ve got to,” Cowboy insisted. “I can’t let my bonds-
men down,” - : ;

“To hell with your bondsmen! What's money? We can
get it from somewhere and pay them back!” Toni Jo’s
eyes glistened. “By God, J’ll get the money. I’ve done it
before and I’ll do it again!” -

“Shut up,” said Cowboy gently. “Listen, Toni Jo. Don’t
worry, kid. Pl beat this rap.”

January came and Cowboy stood trial at Hondo, the
seat of Medina County. Toni Jo sat among the spectators,
dressed conservatively, like a lady, trying to hide her
nervous biting of her lips behind her trembling hand.

The jury went out, then came in with a verdict of guilty.
Toni Jo screamed, The judge called Cowboy before the
bench and sentenced him to “not more than fifty years”
in the state penitentiary at Huntsville. Cowboy said noth-
ing, but Toni Jo went wild.

Before.a bailiff could stop her, [Continued on page 77]

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ntroduced .me_ to
red veteran of the
m who, as. chief
irectly responsible
ind much stricter
in the Santa Fe
un? 15 riot was
se of this new re-
conditions, there is
would have gone.
thé penitentiary, I
<perienced director
and ahtletics, the
an record clerk and
I talked with the
prison farm at Las
than a year’s time,
i meat and vegeta-
iffs has been multi-
a resulting increase

grounds and build-
to newly-installed
‘rly and busy work-
Everywhere alert,
nmaculately uni-
. There was clean-
iet discipline with-

vhere murder had
Ws v security
enc each cell-~
€acu o.curity post,
complete and effi-
ms. Nothing that
as a weapon was

zime, inside prison
reapons, lest in the

me
vet

case of a riot, such as that of June +5,
the arms should be seized by the convicts
and turned on the guards themselves. In
case of real trouble, the unarmed guards
could reach the prison arsenal under the
protection of the GAs ecuipped tower
guards. This theory was proved out on
June 15 when Chief Deputy Warden
Tahash was able to receive arms even
while held a hostage in the prison hos-
pital.

Even in the crumbling, shadowy brick-
yard, once a notorious vice den and sore
spot of the entire prison, enlightened
guards made fearless rounds through
dingy corridors and dim hideouts, keeping
a watchful eye on the inmates assigned
to work there. No others were allowed
access to the area. .

With the warden’s permission, I talked
at will with both inmates and guards and
heard no complaints, only frank approval
and appreciation of improving conditions.

8 i NI LEE ALLELE

Tiger Girl Mistress of
Southland Crime

[Continued from page 12]

she jumped the courtroom rail, screaming
at the judge for what she termed the un-
fairness of the trial and the severity of
the sentence. Then she threw her arms
around her husband in a grip so tight that
it toolx four men te drag her away.

“You won't serve it, Cowboy,” she wept.
“T'll get you out—Toni Jo will get you out.
No damn bars will stand between us. I'll
get you out if I have to kill every stir-cop
at Huntsville.”

Cowboy left the courtroom manacled,
led by the sheriff, and Toni Jo was led
away by her friends. The next day, the
newpapers labeled the scene thrown by
Toni Jo as “the meaningless outburst of
an overwrought and hysterical woman.”
In time, these same newspapers would
have opportunity to reconsider their
opinion. .

Cowboy was removed to ‘the peniten-
tiary, and Toni Jo established herself in
nearby Beaumont. She had pals there—
pals who might help carry out her fan-
tastic plan to free her husband.

Almost any other wife, as madly in
love with a husband as Toni Jo was with
Cowboy, would have gone about seeking
his freedom or a reduction of his sentence
by some rational means. Such a wife
would have sought new evidence tending
to prove her man’s innocence, or sought
political influence, or sought technical
grounds for an appeal from the jury’s
verdict. But Toni Jo was not always
rational.

She planned to spring Cowboy from
Huntsville either by frontal attack on the
penitentiary or some sneak maneuver like
a tunnel beneath or a ladder over a wall.
Yet she was rational enough to know that
in order to carry out either coup she would
need a detailed plan of the prison layout,
an intimate knowledge of its guard sys-
tem, further knowledge of the. inmate’s
routine and some means of ‘communica-
tion with Cowboy in order to acquaint
him with her scheme.

Again, Toni Jo knew she would have to
have money. Her pals might be counted
on to assist her, gratis, up to a point, but
after that they would have to be paid.

Perhaps bribery would enter the picture.
And once the break was an accomplished

‘tial benefits to their own future rehabilita-

’ in the world between Cowboy’s recapture

Men serving a few years to life recog-
nized in’ improving conditions * substan-

tion. Guards, carefully screened into
training at $200 a month and increased
to $250 upon qualification for regular as-
signments, feared nothing to follow a
career which carries the security of
a new system of merit tenure and
progress.

The.state legislature already has ap-
proved a preliminary appropriation of
$3,000,000 for the construction of a new
$4,711,700 prison.

Meanwhile, a guard whose own secrets
have not been told, is dead. So are three
convicts. Others bear the scars of violence
and destruction within the red brick walls
of the ancient institution. But from the
chaos and disorder of which they were
a part has risen a new order of progress
which is moving swiftly to prevent any
similar reign of terror in the future.

©

fact, money would mean all the difference

and his smooth getaway.

As soon as she was settled in Beaumont,
Toni Jo began figuring the money angle.
First, she decided to knock off a bank.
And then she met a guy who agreed to
help her pull the job. He called himself
“Arky.” .

‘He was in his early twenties, slight,
brown-haired. And he was AWOL from
the 62nd Battalion, U. S. Army, at Fort
Sam Houston. The disclosure lowered him
in the esteem of Toni Jo not one bit. In-
deed, from this point on, she looked on
him with greater favor.

He was broke and his interest in banks
coincided with Toni Jo’s own. But most
‘important, Arky, before joining the army
in 1938, had served a term in the peniten-
tiary at Huntsville.

Here was Toni Jo’s man—the man to
act as her first lieutenant in her campaign
to get back her real man. The girl listened
enthralled to Arky’s tales of life at Hunts-
ville and how the penitentiary was
operated and guarded. But Toni Jo was
angered with the ex-con’s doubt of her
chances to spring Cowboy in the near
future.

“Wait a year,” Arky advised. “Tell your
husband to behave himself, and maybe
at the end of the year the warden will
recommend him for one of the prison

farms. If he’s working on a farm, it’ll be
easier for us to help him with a crash-
out.”

“A year—to hell with a year 1” The
Tiger Girl’s eyes flashed. “A year means
a year out of his life—and my life. What’s
the matter with you, Arky—you yellow?”

“No, not yellow, just practical. Besides,
what’s in this for me?”

“Money,” said Toni Jo. “I need it and
so do you. At least you'll go this far with
me, won’t you? Suppose we team up and
crack a bank. I’ve got a tip on one that’s
easy. A little bank in a small town up
near Camden, Ark. You probably know
the place. They. say that at noontime
there’s only one teller in the bank—a
pushover if somebody stuck a gun in his
ribs. And they say the bank’s loaded with
dough. Maybe we could split a wad like
fifty grand. You game?”

Arky said he was game, with certain
reservations. First, he wanted to case the
bank and satisfy himself concerning the
setup. Also, he watted it thoroughly
understood there’d be no shooting. His,
family hadn’t raised him to end up dan-
gling from a rope or as an occupant of the

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hotseat. “But we need guns,” he said,


The Angolite-May/June 1995

married. He may not have taken them seriously,
but he should have: the blissful honeymoon of
Cowboy and Toni Jo, which probably would not
have lasted very long for the two of them under
the best of circumstances, would be over within
a few weeks, and with it their married life to-
gether.

When Cowboy’s case came to trial, he was
found guilty of murder. On February 8, 1940,
the Bexar County judge sentenced him to 50 years
in the Texas penitentiary. When Toni Jo heard
the sentence pronounced, she exploded in anger.
“Those bastards have got my man,” she is sup-
posed to have shouted in the courtroom. She
swore that she would get Cowboy out of prison
as quickly as she could. Cowboy was taken into
custody and sent to the Texas prison at Sugarland;
he and Toni Jo would be together only one more
time in this life.

Toni Jo was not one to mince words, nor to
procrastinate once she had made up her mind.
Within four or five days of Cowboy’s sentenc-
ing, she was in Beaumont, drinking a Coke with
two girl friends, when they ran into an old friend
of one of the girls. He was an ex-convict who
had just deserted from the Army in San Antonio.
“Arkie,” the girl called him. Toni Jo asked Arkie
if he had any guts. He told her, “Yeah, I got
guts,” and asked what she meant.

She told him the kind that would make quick,
easy money, and he suggested they go up to a
little town near his home in Arkansas and rob a
bank. Toni Jo said, “I was going to help him
because I wanted the money to help get my
husband’s sentence cut and he would have been
eligible for parole.”

That same night, which was the evening of
Tuesday, February 13, 1940, Toni Jo recruited
two teenage boys to break into a secondhand store
and steal some guns. The boys were very suc-
cessful, but they should have been given more
complete instructions: they brought back a suit-
case full of 16 pistols, but ammunition that would
fit only one of the handguns.

On Wednesday Toni Jo and Arkie left Beau-
mont, headed to Arkansas to rob the bank. They
caught one ride and then another, with a fellow
in a Lincoln Zephyr, to the bus station in Orange.

27

Toni Jo told
Arkie she did
not want that
car, so they
walked across
the Sabine
River Bridge
into Louisiana
and waited for
another ride.

A little bit
after dark, out-
side a Highway
90 honky-tonk

called the

Night Owl, a COWBOY.

light green deluxe Ford Coupe with Texas plates
stopped. The driver invited them to get in.

He told them his name was Joseph P.
Calloway. He was 43, a tire salesman in Hous-
ton. Toni Jo said later he was a very cordial and
nice fellow. The car was new. Calloway was
delivering it to Jennings, Louisiana, as a favor to
friends who ran the Younger Brothers Trucking
Company there. Toni Jo whispered to Arkie that
this car would do. Arkie would have to drive.
Toni Jo lacked one basic skill of the gun moll:
she could not drive a car.

Toni Jo had in her purse the only gun they
had with bullets in it. Arkie had an old auto-
matic with no bullets. Past Lake Charles, they
pulled out their guns. “What’s this?” Calloway
asked.

Toni Jo told him, “Don’t be so dumb.”

Calloway told them if it was money they
wanted, they could have all he had. Toni Jo told
him it was the car they needed. They turned north
off Highway 90 and made him stop the car. Arkie
went through Calloway’s pockets, took his money
and his watch, and made him get in the trunk
(which in those days everyone called the turtle
or turtle back). Arkie drove back south, crossing
Highway 90 again, looking for a deserted spot.

Flares from oil field fires cast too much light,
so they continued on south for several miles, com-
ing to an area called Plateau Petit Bois southeast
of Lake Charles. They pulled off the side of the
gravel road into a small trail that led into Earl

ee

The Angolite-May/June 1995

bution; and a terrific legal battle that continued
up to the last few days before each defendant was
executed. No wonder the public was fascinated
with the case for the three years it was in the
limelight; its combination of glamour, violence,
Sadness, weirdness and inexplicable mystery are
the stuff anti-heroes are made of. No wonder
that the Lake Charles American Press, in its 50-
year retrospective on the case in November 1992,
used the headline: “Toni Jo’s execution was na-
tional sensation.”

Had she not shot to death Joseph Calloway
in a Calcasieu Parish rice field, it is unlikely that
Toni Jo Henry’s life would ever have attracted
national attention. But it is also evident that once
the attention was focused on her, she made the
most of it, enjoying favored attention and celeb-
rity status up to the day she died.

Toni Jo Henry was as well-known for her
crime in her day as Patty Hearst or Jean Harris,
in our era, or Bonnie Parker and Ma Barker, in
their own. Parker and Barker had been dead only
about five years when: Toni Jo committed her
murder, and there is more than a hint of the in-
fluence of the 1930s-style female desperado on
Toni Jo’s public image, as portrayed in her own
public statements, her life history, and in media
accounts of her relationship with her convict hus-
band, Claude “Cowboy” Henry.

Toni Jo’s early life suggests that she might
have a lot of problems as she grew up, particu-
larly in her relationships with men, but there is
no clear predictor that she would one day take a
pistol and shoot a kneeling, praying naked man
in the head because she needed his car. Her crime
must have shocked her own family as much as it
did that of the victim, Joseph P. Calloway, who
was by all accounts the good Samaritan who hap-
pened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time,
driving a new Ford coupe that was just the car
Toni Jo had been looking for. It was the car that
got him killed, Toni Jo said later, the car that
made her a murderer and sealed her fate.

Toni Jo Henry was born Annie Beatrice
McQuiston in Shreveport on January 3, 1916.
Today we would call her family life dysfunctional;
then they just called it unhappy. Her parents,
John and Ella McQuiston, did not get along.

TONI JO (from a 1942 newspaper)

Annie, as she was called until she took to the
Streets, was the third of five children.

The family broke up early. Annie’s aunt,
Emma Holt, who was a key witness for both pros-
ecution and defense in the three trials of Toni Jo
Henry, testified that Annie was about four years
old when Ella McQuiston contracted tuberculo-
sis. “Her mother had T.B.,” Mrs. Holt said, “and
this woman came to live with him, he left his
wife and children and lived with this woman.”

Annie was six when her mother died. John
McQuiston married the woman he was living
with, who became Annie’s step-mother, and re-
trieved Annie and her two younger siblings from
their grandmother’s house. The step-mother “run
the two older children off,” Mrs. Holt testified,
but kept Annie and the two babies at home until
Annie finally ran away for good.


28

Daughenbaugh’s rice field. Arkie unlocked the
turtle, and Calloway got out. Arkie and Toni Jo
escorted Calloway over a barbed wire fence and
into the field, stopping next to a stack of rice
straw.

Toni Jo told Calloway to take off his clothes.
He did, and she wrapped them in his overcoat.
When he was taking his clothes off, Calloway
asked Arkie and Toni Jo: “Don’t you people know
you're going to the penitentiary for this?”

Toni Jo told him to shut up and think where
he was going. He asked if it was all right for
him to pray for them. Calloway was sitting, or
kneeling, naked on the icy ground of the rice field,
when he was shot once above the right eye with
a .32 caliber bullet. He slumped over, dead on
the spot.

Toni Jo and Arkie got back into the Ford and
drove away. They stopped in Lake Charles and
bought gas, then drove to Shreveport by about
midnight and on to El Dorado, Arkansas. They
continued on up Highway 167 to look over the
bank in Harrell, that Arkie had promised would
be easy to rob, only to discover there was'‘no bank
in Harrell. Arkie said later Toni Jo was not in
good humor at this point. She had to find some
bank to rob. They turned west to Camden, to
have breakfast and get a room at a hotel. They
stopped to burn Calloway’s clothes on the road
and threw his shoes off a bridge before they got
to Camden.

Toni Jo and Arkie argued in the hotel room.
In Arkie’s account, he was afraid Toni Jo would
kill him also. She had locked him in the hotel
room with her, and he got out by making up an
excuse that he needed to get more bullets for the
guns. In Toni Jo’s version, she hit him across
the face with a gun and he left the room and never
came back.

Later the afternoon of Thursday, February
15th, when it became obvious that Arkie was not
coming back, Toni Jo went to the Camden bus
station and bought a ticket to Shreveport. She
appeared at Emma Holt’s house after midnight,
early Friday morning.

Aunt Emma knew that something was wrong.
Toni Jo was nervous and shaking. At first she
would not say what was wrong. She asked about

The Angolite-May/June 1995

all the family members. Aunt Emma asked her
again what was the matter, and Toni Jo said she
had shot a man, shot him in the heart. She said
the killing had taken place somewhere between
Orange, Texas, and Lake Charles.

Aunt Emma and Toni Jo talked until later in
the morning, and then Toni Jo fell asleep on the
couch. While Toni Jo was sleeping, Aunt Emma
looked in her handbag and found a loaded re-
volver. Aunt Emma must have been in a dilemma
about what to do. She resolved it in the evening
by calling her brother, George McQuiston, who
was Toni Jo’s uncle, her father’s brother. He was
also Captain McQuiston, Inspector of the Louisi-
ana State Police.

Captain McQuiston sent two state troopers out
to pick up Toni Jo. They brought her in for ques-
tioning. Captain McQuiston spoke with Toni Jo
privately. He told her he wanted to help her all
he could, and if she was in any trouble to tell
him what it was. At first she wouldn’t say much,
then abruptly she repeated what she had told her
aunt: that she had killed a man, somewhere
around Lake Charles.

Captain McQuiston loaded Toni Jo in a state
police vehicle, along with Sergeant D.B. Walker
and Captain J.L. Atkins of the State Police, and
headed for the Lake Charles. From this moment
until her death almost three years later, Toni Jo
was never free of custody.

They spent the cold, rainy morning of Satur-
day, February 17th, driving around rural areas
south of Lake Charles, looking for the body of
Joseph Calloway. No one had discovered it yet,
and Toni Jo couldn’t find it either. The Shreve-
port troopers went home at noon. Maybe the
whole story was a hoax.

Captain John Jones and Trooper Fremont
LeBleu took Toni Jo out to continue the search,
and this time they were successful. They were
driving along a dirt road off Highway 42, when
Toni Jo saw the two rice stacks, east and west of
the road, that she had been looking for as land-
marks. Trooper LeBleu got out of the car to look
behind the stack to the west, and there he found
Calloway’s body, lying face down as it had been
left three days before. “She was right. . . here it
is,” LeBleu said.

26

Mrs. Holt’s testimony, which was offered as
what we would today call mitigation evidence,
was virtually the same in all three trials. She was
very emotional as she told how she had tried to
help the little girl, to take her out of the home,
but “I couldn’t get her because she had a father.”
Mrs. Holt testified that Annie begged her to take
her into her home, on many occasions, between
the age of six and the age of 13, when she finally
left home. Mrs. Holt described Annie’s accounts
of how the step-mother had taken Annie with her
on dates with other men, while she was married
to Annie’s father.

When Annie was 13, she and her two older
sisters had part-time jobs in a Shreveport maca-
roni factory. The manager fired them when he
learned of the family history of tuberculosis. Not
long after, John McQuiston gave Annie a severe
beating, and she left home for good.

Mrs. Holt testified that she saw Annie only
once in the next three years. Annie was not liv-
ing in Shreveport. Annie Beatrice McQuiston had
in fact ceased to exist, except on legal documents.
In her place was a small-time prostitute and hus-
tler whose street-name was Toni Jo Hood.

Mrs. Holt testified that she saw her niece, who
now insisted that she be called “Toni Jo,” smok-
ing marijuana and drinking alcohol at the age of
16. Mrs. Holt arranged for her niece to marry a
young man the next year, thinking he might be
able to take care of the young girl and save her
from her sordid life. But the young man did not
support his wife, and he and Toni Jo both ended
up living with Mrs. Holt.

They lived with her only a few weeks, and
Toni Jo left to take up residence in a house of
prostitution on Common Street, in Shreveport’s
red-light district, or what the locals referred to as
“the District.” She no longer sought any other
lawful means of employment. She was a work-
ing prostitute.

Mrs. Holt said Toni Jo lived in the District
for two or three years, until she was about 20,
when she left Shreveport. She did not see Toni
Jo again until the early morning hours of Febru-
ary 16, 1940, about 1:00 or 1:30 a.m., when Toni
Jo appeared at the Holts’ home on the

The Angolite-May/June 1995

Mooringsport road north of Shreveport and an-
nounced, “Aunt Emma, I shot a man.”

In four years on the road, Toni Jo had appar-
ently drifted into southwestern Louisiana and
across the Sabine River into south Texas. She was
known to have worked as a prostitute in Lake
Charles, Beaumont, Houston and San Antonio.
She had also became addicted to cocaine.

In Texas she met Claude Henry, whose nick-
name was “Cowboy.” Cowboy was from Los
Angeles, not Texas, but he had a reputation for
toughness (and a criminal record) that was ap-
propriate to a Texas outlaw. It was said that Cow-
boy and Toni Jo were made for each other—like
opposite sides of the same rough coin.

In a 1942 jailhouse interview, Toni Jo said
about Cowboy:

“No one ever cared about me before
him. That guy is the king of my heart.
He gave me a home and he got that drug
monkey off my back—and that drug mon-
key is a big, strong thing.

“I remember the day I told him I was
a cokie and the look on his face. He
thought I just smoked marijuana. But
when I told him my train went a lot fur-
ther than marijuana, he took me to a ho-
tel room and I lay there in bed for a week
and he would come in now and then and
ask me how I was doing. He’d slap my
face with iced towels and we'd both
laugh.”

Cowboy is always referred to as “an ex-
boxer.” There is no clear record of any lawful

employment of either Cowboy or Toni Jo during
this time, but it is clear that both were well-known
in the underworld of south Texas.

Toni Jo and Cowboy bought a marriage li-
cense in the Calcasieu Parish Courthouse on No-
vember 25, 1939. Their wedding ceremony was
performed that day by Sulphur Justice of the
Peace, James A. Johnson. Mr. and Mrs. Cow-
boy Henry returned to Texas, a cloud hanging
over the newlyweds’ future from the start.

Cowboy had shot to death a former San An-
tonio police officer in 1938. Those homicide
charges were still pending when he and Toni Jo

ae Se?

78

come out the other side. He had not been
seen talking to any one. Beyond the fact
ot the victim's identity, nothing could be
established to give us a starting point.
The case was absolutely without a clue.

But there is one feature of a system
which Superintendent of Police George
Reyer and I have applied toward crime
detection in New Orleans that in its efti-
ciency is probably unique among the
police departments of the world—and_ it
has served to clear up many an otherwise
baffling mystery.

This consists of the operation of a pawn-
shop department at Police Headquarters
which receives a daily report of every ar-
ticle that has been pawned anywhere in
New Orleans, and which keeps on file a
complete record of such pawned articles,
together with the name and address and
a description of the person who pawned
the articles. Proprietors of all pawnshops
in the city are compelled by law to send
these daily reports into Headquarters by
9 o’clock each morning. In the event of
failure to comply with this requirement
there is no argument—the offending pawn-
shop is closed up and the proprietor goes
to Jail.

It might be argued that it is easy to
“cheat” this requirement, but I guard
against this possibility by sending detec-
tives to pawn articles and then watching
to see if these articles show up on the
records received at Headquarters by 9
o'clock the following morning. When they
fail to do so, there is one less pawnshop
doing business in New Orleans, and an-
other man is lodged behind the bars for
defeating the aims of justice.

Vor can’t pawn your own watch any-
where in New Orleans without my hav-
ing a complete record of the transaction,
together with your name and address and
description, on file at Headquarters with-
in twenty-four hours. I will also have
your signature and an additional specimen
of vour handwriting. It is a new form of
“finger-printing’—and it is important, as
the case of the murder of Charles Rabito
by unknown parties who left no clue to
their identity plainly shows.

It is the usual practice of police de-
partments to cover the pawnshops after
a crime has been committed, and then
only in eases in which stolen articles may
be pawned; but by our system the pawn-
shops are kept constantly covered whether
a crime has been committed or not, and
in the case of the baffling murder of
Charles Rabito no other system would
have served. Here was a case that ap-
parently could have no possible connec-
tion with the pawnshops, as no pawnable
articles had been stolen.

About 1:30 on the afternoon of Janu-
ary 5th, 1933-—scarcely a half-hour after
Charles Rabito had been shot to death
in the high weeds over in Jefferson Parish
—a thirteen-year-old boy named Patrick
Hodges who lived at 2234 Dublin Street,
and Morris Vollenweider, a twelve-year-
old boy living at 8807 Calipisa Street, were
out playing on the banks of the canal
which cuts through the west end of New
Orleans. A big sedan raced down South
Claiborne Avenue and turned into Dublin
Street toward the river. Suddenly an arm
reached out of the racing sedan and tossed
something into the canal.

“Hey, Morry,” exclaimed the Hodges
boy, “that guy throwed a gun into the
canal.”

“Howd’ya know it was a gun?” skep-
tically inquired young Vollenweider.

“T seen it,” said Patrick. “I know it
was a gun. I betcha they're gangsters
takin’ somebody fur a ride. Let’s tell a
p liceman.”

The two boys ran to look for a cop.

True Detective Mysteries

Up on Claiborne Avenue they found Stan-
ley Breen, a patrolman, attached to the
Ninth Precinct Police Station. Breen
went back with the boys and fished around
till he dragged the object out of the
water—a Colt automatic pistol, with part
of the right-hand grip broken off.

The boys didn’t know what kind of
car the pistol had been thrown from, or
the number of the license tag. They hadn't
seen the men in the car. In fact, they
didn’t know anything except that the
pistol had been thrown from a car that
had raced down South Claiborne Avenue
and turned into Dublin Street, driving
on toward the river.

Breen turned the pistol in to the Ninth
Precinct Station, and just as a routine
matter I was informed of the find. There
was no indication that it had any con-
nection with the murder that was then
occupying my mind, but I sent Detective
George Dillman to the Ninth Precinct Sta-

The lifelong friend of the slain man

who plotted his death for money.

His identity is revealed in the story
of the levee slaying

tion to get the pistol and bring it to my
office.

I found it was a .32-caliber Colt auto-
matic, bearing the manufacturer’s num-
ber 236604. Just on the chance that this
gun might have been pawned at some time
or another, about 3:30 o’clock that after-
noon I took it to the pawnshop depart-
ment at Police Headquarters and there,
with the assistance of Captain James Dim-
itry, found in the records on file that a
Colt automatic bearing manufacturer’s
number 236604 and with part of the right-
hand grip broken off had been pawned
almost two years before by a Mrs. A.
Zielinski, a white woman who had given
her residence as number 1725 Polymnia
Street. The exact date of this pawning
had been June 15th, 1931, and the pledge
number was 56443.

This might not mean a thing, but I was
reaching for clues as a drowning man
grasps at straws. At any rate, I now had
a gun that had been thrown out of a
speeding automobile shortly after a mur-
der had been committed in which the
perpetrators had.escaped in a car. There
might be a connection between the two,
and in the absence of anything else to
work on I decided to act on the assump-
tion that there was. Through the effi-

ciency of our pawnshop check-up system,
I also had the name of one who had
owned that gun, though this ownership
dated back two years. This wasn’t much,
but it was something. My job now was
to connect the gun with the tragedy that
had occurred on the same day the gun
had been discarded, and to trace this gun
to the one who had it in his possession
at the time of the murder.

I called in Detectives Joseph Mock and
Walter Klemmer and turned the pistol
over to them, with instructions to find the
Mrs. Zielinski who had pawned the gun
two years previously.

In the meantime, I was picturing in my
own mind the killing of Charles Rabito in
the high weeds out in Jefferson Parish. I
had to find some way to connect this gun
with the murder, for no bullets had been
found in the body. A photograph had
been made of the scene of the tragedy
picturing the way the body lay; from this
I deduced the possibility that Rabito
might have received the first shot as he
stood up in the weeds, then, after he had
fallen, to make sure he was dead the
murderers might have fired the second
shot into his head as he lay on the
ground. This bullet had gone clear
through his head, and if I was right in
this deduction it had gone into the ground
at the spot where the victim’s head had
been.

I then called Detectives Jolly and Re-
gan into my office:

“Boys,” I said, “we've got to find one
of those bullets that killed Rabito.”

“But, Chief,” replied Regan, “there were
no bullets in the body, they went clear
through him, and they might be anywhere
out there in those weeds. Even if you
found a bullet there would be no way
to prove it was one of the bullets that
had been fired into Rabito.”

“There’s one way and only one, if they
fired one of those shots into him as he
lay on the ground,” I said. “He was shot
in the head and I believe that shot was
fired after he fell. I want you boys to
go out there and dig into the ground un-
der the spot where his head lay; you can
easily locate it by the blood. "Sift every
handful of dirt carefully through your
fingers, and don’t stop digging till you get,
down too deep for any bullet to pene-
trate.”

“Chief,” spoke up Jolly, “there isn’t a
chance—it’s like hunting for a needle in
a haystack!”

“ ALL right,” I exclaimed, “find the
needle. Get going. I’ll admit it’s a re-
mote chance but it’s our only one and
we've got to take it. If we can't connect
that gun that was thrown into the canal
this afternoon with the murder that hap-
pened just before that, it looks as though
this department is going to lose the only
case we’ve slipped up on in three years.
Now get out there and start digging.”

Jolly and Regan hunted up Deputy-
Sheriff Earl Rolling of Jefferson Parish
and took him with them to the scene
of the murder. Rolling, having seen the
body as it lay on the ground where the
man had fallen, pointed out the spot
where the murdered man’s head had been.
The grass and weeds were spattered with
blood. Carefully the men began to dig,
sifting every minute particle of dirt they
took from the ground between their fin-
gers. Every pebble was scrutinized closely
before it was thrown aside.

When they had dug down about two
feet Detective Arthur uttered an exclama-
tion.

“Wait a minute, boys,” he said. “Here’s
something that's too heavy for a pebble!”

Breaking away the dirt that surrounded
it with his thumb and finger he held up

a bullet about
You'd have thoug
who had just fou
get.

‘“Hoo-ray!”
boys—the fat
made a wrong gir

Regan and Jo!
this discovery th:
to Headquarters.
phone to tell m«

“We got her,
to me over the w
about two feet cd:
we're not going t
have a hunch!”

In the meantim
Klemmer had gon
Zielinski given o
that had been mad
Polymnia Street.
moved, and her
But they learned
she had moved t
the city with det:
to-house canvass.

HEN the bu

Jolly was bri
it over to Maurice
intendent, and ha
and turned that o
were working will
in a short time |]
report from  B:
O'Neil:

Hon. John J. ¢
Chief of Detec:
Sir:

In reference t
32-caliber, blu
grips, upper
grip broken, ser
from you in yo!
also one .32-c
bullet with a =
adhering to san

I wish to ac
sult of ballist:

Test bullets
above des
tol in the
Headquart«
geant Joseph
James W. Fen:

The test bull:
der the compa
compared with
from you. T
marks, twist of
rifling characte)
were found to
way, proving th
Colt automatic
the bullets rece
office.

Very respect’

(signed) Ma

Super

Naturally, I fel
proved beyond
recovered from
through our sys!
up to Mrs. A. Z
the gun two ves
gun with which ‘
murdered. But
We had to find
gun in his posse=>
der was commit
our only hope.

Now that we
follow I gave
the Detective Bi
Police Departm:
ways found that
that delay is dan
detective under n
them loose com


athena

ne - linsidy slag i ren ie

aia ai ‘dle Jot Ni tiv. aie! aw bapa es

BAFFLING

SLAYING

MURDER MYSTERY

ACK of the protection levee that guards the banks of
the Mississippi and Gulf Canal along the western edge
of New Orleans stretches a desolate waste of high
weeds, broken here and there by an occasional dairy

farm or a subdivision. This is in what is known as
Jefferson Parish, which in Louisiana is similar to a
a county in other states. Skirting this weedy waste, : :

where the herons and wild water fowl fly in from the Sea ane —
surrounding Louisiana swamplands, is the Airline Maize Grocery Com-
Highway, leading through Southport and Bridgedale pany, of New Orleans,

(Right) The car that

to the West. was driving on January
Shortly after the noon hour on Thursday, January Sth, 1933, when he was
5th, 1933, Robert Brooks, a colored boy about twelve slain

years of age who worked for Leon Bordes, operating
a small dairy farm along Airline Highway near Bridgedale,
Jefferson Parish, was driving two cows into the barn when
he saw an automobile drive into a gravel road that led off
the highway into the tall weeds toward the edge of a pine
woods, He saw the car stop and two men got out and went
into the brush. Then he heard two pistol shots. After that
one of the men ran back out of the weeds and jumped into
the car, which drove off down the highway in the direction of
New Orleans. The boy went over to investigate—and in the
high weeds back from the edge of the road he found the body
of a white man lying in a pool of blood which flowed from
two gaping bullet wounds in the head.

William J. Andrews, a boy seventeen years of age who
worked on his father’s dairy farm across Airline Highway
from the Bordes farm, was walking along the railroad track

toward his home when he heard
two pistol shots. Looking in
the direction of the shots he
saw a man run out of the high
weeds and get into a sedan
that was parked along a gravel
road leading off the highway.
The car then roared away,
and as it turned into Airline
Highway he got a good view
of the license tag. He noted
the number—it was a 1932
Louisiana license, number 140-
253. Just then Robert Brooks,
the colored boy from the Bordes
farm, came running toward
him.

“There—there’s a white man
layin’ up there in the weeds,’’
he gasped. ‘He—he’s bleedin’.
I think—he’s dead. I—I think
mebbe them men must’ve shot
him!’

Andrews and the colored boy
ran into the house of Leon
Bordes, where they told Mrs.
Bordes what they had seen.
Mrs. (Continued on page 77)


{ that through
be traced. But
sawnshops and
led none of
nurderer © still
that hideous
Waco’'s citizens,
larmed at the
ad ceased his
id he?
iber 20th, the
iller again fell
e curtain rose
tragedy, in

Grady Skip-
who for the
| be known as
Vaco left the
zg. Before 11
Mrs. Mary
use the couple
vught of what
girls in the
She sent her
1. out to look
ssed, hours of
<c. Then the
lv, the mother
down the re-
voice of her

ot 1706 N.

itrolled voice,
Laura is

hurt?”
ore was aN ac-
re imme-

hed the Dunn
edemever was
vas hysterical.
1]

kle, and there
body and her

1e girl gasped
of an attack
), In Cameron
‘he man_ had
said. She
ving she had
ev home, and
» the home of

oO”

asked the

“is dead at
Che man shot
end me, and

ief of Police
y Stem who
ame in. Shel-
1 horrified sil-
0 of tragedies

‘ho did this?”

Negro with a

as circle of
has brought
9 the mysti-
egro with a
longer can
gnet of the

ss the third
cbing crime-
get on the
test suspect.
lary issue of

ES. On
nber lst.
ler your

Unravelling the
Baffling Levee
Slaying

(Continued from page 21)

Bordes promptly telephoned to Deputy-
sheriff Earl Rolling. of Jefferson Parish,
who on his way to the scene picked up
State Highway Officer Roos. They found
nothing by which the body of the dead
man could be identified, and no clue to
the perpetrators of the deed.

“They—they drove in toward New
Orleans,’ explained the Andrews youth.
“I saw their license number—it was 140-
253.”

State Highway Officer Roos immediately
hurried to a telephone and called up New
Orleans Police Headquarters, conveying
this information, as the murderers had
not yet had time to reach the city.

I was at a precinct station about 1
o'clock conducting an investigation into
another matter when I heard the follow-
ing broadcast from my own office at Police
Headquarters:

“Calling all stations. Calling all stations.
A white man has been found murdered
near Bridgedale, in Jefferson Parish. Two
men who committed the murder drove
toward New Orleans in a Studebaker se-
dan bearing 1932 license number 140-253.
Calling all stations. All officers watch for
this car.”

IMMEDIATELY hurried to my own

office. Shortly after arriving there, I re-
ceived the report that a car bearing 1932
license number 140-253 had been found
abandoned in an alley in the western sec-
tion of New Orleans, between Carrollton
Avenue and Dublin Street. Swift on the
heels of this came another report—the car
had been identified as the personal prop-
erty of Charles Rabito, residing at 3203
General Taylor Street. Rabito was a spe-
clal messenger for the David Maize Cash
and Carry Grocery Company, operating
a large wholesale warehouse at South
Clairborne Avenue and Poydras Street.

Inquiry there developed the fact that
Charles Rabito was missing. At 1:50
p. M., J. J. Weatherspoon, Manager of the
David Maize warehouse, reported to the
First Precinct Station that at 12:30 that
day he had sent Charles Rabito to the
bank in his own ear with twenty-three
hundred dollars to deposit—and he hadn’t
returned.

Then came the identification: while on
his way to the bank Charles Rabito had
been kidnapped in his own car, then taken
to this lonely spot in Jefferson Parish and
wantonly shot down in cold blood, after
which the murderers had driven away in
Rabito’s car with the money he had car-
ried in a black bag.

Since the victim's own car had been the
only one used in the crime, the license
number was valueless as a clue after the
murderers had abandoned it. No finger-
prints were found anywhere on the car.
There had been nobody with Rabito when
he left the warehouse at South Claiborne
Avenue and Poydras Street. and nobody
could be found who knew whether he had
picked up a passenger or whether he had
been stopped on his way to the bank.
From the time he had left the warehouse
to deposit the money all trace of him was
lost until his dead body had been found
lying in the high weeds along Airline High-
way in Jefferson Parish. Nobody had
been seen loitering around the store and
warehouse in a suspicious manner. There
were no bullets in the body of the man.
the shots having gone clear through and

True Detective Mysteries

The genuine bears this seal

le Swept Armetics

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ASE” ae

‘-up system,
e who had
3 ownership
vasn’t much,
ob now was
ragedy that
ay the gun
ice this gun
$s possession

a Mock and
{ the pistol
s to find the
ied the gun

uring in my
*s Rabito in
on Parish. I
ect this gun
ts had been
ograph had
the tragedy
v; from this
hat Rabito
shot as he
ifter he had
s dead the
the second
lay on the
gone clear
vas right in
) the ground
‘'s head had

ily and Re-
to find one

re were
t clear
eC auywhere
‘ven if you
be no way

bullets that
one, if they
him as he

le was shot
it shot was
ou boys to
ground un-
\y; you can
Sift every
rough your
till vou get
t to pene-

here isn’t a
a needle in

“find the
nit it’s a re-
lv one and
‘n't connect
o the canal
‘that hap-
s as though
se the only
three years.
digging.”
ip Deputy-
rson Parish
» the scene
ng seen the
| where the
t the spot
d had been.
ittered with
gan to dig,
of dirt they
n their fin-
ized closely

about two
clama-

"Here’s
a pebble!”
surrounded
he held up

a bullet about the size of a .32-caliber.
You’d have thought he was a prospector
who had just found a valuable gold nug-
ge

t. :
“Hoo-ray!” he yelled. “Here she is,
boys—the fatal bullet! The Chief never
made a wrong guess in his life.”

Regan and Jolly were so elated over
this discovery they couldn’t wait to get
to Headquarters. ‘They rushed to a tele-
phone to tell me the news.

“We got her, Chief!” Regan shouted
to me over the wire. “Found the bullet
about two feet down in the ground—and
we're not going to lose that case, Chief, I
have a hunch!”

In the meantime, Detectives Mock and
Klemmer had gone to the address of Mrs.
Zielinski given on the pawnshop record
that had been made two years before—1725
Polymnia Street. They found she had
moved, and her address was unknown.
But they learned the section of the city
she had moved to. I covered that end of
the city with detectives making a house-
to-house canvass.

WEEN the bullet found by Regan and
Jolly was brought in to me I turned
it over to Maurice O'Neil, Bertillon Super-
intendent, and had the pistol brought in
and turned that over to O’Neil also. We
were working with feverish naste now, and
in a short time I received the following
rope from Bertiilon Superintendent
O'Neil:

Hon. John J. Grosch,
Chief of Detectives.
Sir:

In reference to Colt automatic pistol,
32-caliber, blue steel, black rubber
grips, upper portion of right-hand
grip broken, serial No. 236604, received
from you in your office this afternoon,
also one .32-caliber metal jacketed
bullet with a small amount of earth
adhering to same.

I wish to advise the following re-
sult of ballistical examination:

Test bullets were fired from the
above described Colt automatic pis-
tol in the target range at Police
Headquarters in the presence of Ser-
geant Joseph Schwehm and Clerk
James W. Fenerty.

The test bullets were examined un-
der the comparison microscopes and
compared with the bullet received
from you. The land and groove
marks, twist of rifling and the minute
rifling characteristics on both bullets
were found to correspond in every
way, proving that the above described
Colt automatic pistol No. 236604 fired
the bullets received from you in your
office.

Very respectfully

(signed) Maurice B. O’NEIL,

Supervisor of Identification.

Naturally, I felt elated. It had now been
proved beyond all doubt that the gun
recovered from the canal, and traced
through our system of pawnshop check-
up to Mrs. A. Zielinski, who had owned
the gun two years before, was the same
gun with which Charles Rabito had been
murdered. But two years is a long time.
We had to find the party who had the
gun in his possession at the time the mur-
der was committed. Mrs. Zielinski was
our only hope.

Now that we had a definite trail to
follow I gave no one connected with
the Detective Bureau of the New Orleans
Police Department any rest. I have al-
ways found that it pays to work fast, and
that delay is dangerous. I called in every
detective under my supervision and turned
them loose combing the city, following

True Detective Mysteries

the trail of a pistol that had been seen
tossed into the canal near where two
little boys were playing on the bank. No-
body got any sleep that night. Long after
good citizens had gone to rest we were
thumping on doors and routing people
out of bed to follow the trail of the par-
ticular quarry we sought.

Late that evening, Detectives Joe Mock
and Walter Klemmer reported that they
had located Mrs. Zielinski at No. 1614
St. Charles Avenue and that she had told
them she had given a man by the name
of Frank J. Tucker the right to redeem
this pistol from the pawnshop where she
had pledged it.

“Hoo-ray!” I said. “Find Tucker and
we've got our man. I know that bird—
he’s the guy that did the job.”

Tucker had a police record, and I felt
sure he was the end of the trail in our
search for the murder of Charles Rabito.

An hour later they had located Tucker’s
address—2411 Annunciation Street—but
he wasn’t at home. I sent Captain Alfred
J. Malone and Detectives William Van-
dervort and Leininger to meet Detectives
Mock and Klemmer at First and Annun-
ciation Streets, where they were instructed
to wait until Tucker returned home and
then put him under arrest. Tucker was
a desperate character and I was taking
no chances. If he had committed this
murder he would shoot his way out of it
if he had a chance—hence these reenforce-
ments.

At 12:15 that night Tucker got home
and was taken into custody without trou-

eC.

“What for?” he inquired. “I ain’t done
nothin’ !”

“Because you owned this pistol,” said
one of the detectives, showing him the
gun, “and it killed Charles Rabito. If
you didn’t do that job we want to know
who did—with your gun. Come clean,
Tucker.”

“That’s the gun I gave to Joe Bychrist
more than a year ago-—an’ I ain’t seen it
since. I know it by that piece broken
out of the handle. Joe had some trouble
with some fellows about some liquor and
asked me for the Joan of a gun and I give
it to him—an’ he never give it back.
That’s the God’s truth, boys.”

I HAD Tucker brought in to Headquar-
ters and the boys now followed a trail
that led to Joe Bychrist. At 2 o’clock that
morning Joe Bychrist was arrested at
1026 Sixth Street and brought to Head-
quarters. He admitted that he had bor-
rowed the pistol from Tucker and had
failed to return it to him. When we had
convinced ourselves that this was true, a
statement was obtained from Tucker and
he was released. The man I was sure had
committed the murder when I learned he
had owned the gun with which it had been
committed, was innocent.

Bychrist then issued a statement to the
effect that shortly after he had got the
pistol from Tucker about fourteen months
before, he and a William Dolan had got
into some trouble in a drug store at First
and Chippawa Streets and Dolan_had
fired some shots from the pistol. When
they ran away from the scene of this
trouble Dolan had thrown the pistol away
in a vacant lot. As I heard this my heart
sank. Was this to be the end of the
pistol trail, our only hope in bringing to
justice the murderer’ of Charles Rabito?

But Bychrist then continued. A week
later Dolan had returned the gun to him,
saying that a boy had found the gun and
he had got it back from him. He had
then taken the gun home and cleaned it
up, as it was rusty from laying out in the
weather, and the next day had sold the
gun to one Salvadore Dallao for two dol-

79

, \
"OHNOH!
AON ”
THIS ISSIOE!

2 Aug really need a good gas-mask
to play blindman’s buff success-
fully when Joe and his gassy old briar
are in the game. That surly tobacco
he stokes up with gives him away at
the first putrid puff.

Here’s a free hint, Joe. Run a pipe
cleaner through your briar, scrape
out the polluted bowl—then fil up
with mild and pleasant Sir Walter
Raleigh. This gentle blending of Ken-
tucky Burleys gives off a delicate and
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merry widows and wary kiddoes alike.
Sir Walter Raleigh is cool. It’s slow
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best. Kept fresh in heavy gold foil, it
will set you back only fifteen pennies.
Try it—you'll be the hit of the party.

Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corporation
Louisville, Kentucky. Dept. B-412

Send for this

FREE

BOOKLET

SIR WALTER
| RALEIGH
4 oo >

}

cease

See eee ee
Rr


-urled the
aoved into

ished over

dloway, of
se she had

ied to the
uorning of
ha.

his arrival
phoned the
ninggss with
tly worried

was a dark
use number

years old,
vas wearing
itually wore

search im-
ficers roared
ar and some
wut and grim
e mechani¢s

description.
-, rain-swept

Sheriff Henry A. Reid of Lake Charles, La., is
shown above with the young blond companion
of the elusive gungirl whose wiles led him to
Join her in a fantastic criminal campaign de-
signed for. the benefit of another man. On the
stretch of Highway 90, below, the salesman-
victim stopped for two hitchhikers.

oo ener Ramer ner

Then Calloway’s trail was finally picked up at a filling
station in Beaumont, Tex.

An attendant informed the questioning officer, “Yes,
I remember a big fellow with glasses in a brand new Ford
coupe. He stopped here about four in the afternoon and
had the tank filled up. Then he inquired after a street and
a certain house number.” :

This information looked like a promising lead. Hur-
‘riedly the officer raced to the address. His knock on the
door was answered by a respectable Beaumont citizen
who informed the officer that he was an old personal friend
of Calloway’s,

“Joe dropped in here shortly after four p. m.,” the wit-
ness volunteered. “My wife and I asked him to stay for
dinner but he refused as he wanted to get to Jennings early
in the evening,”

Informed by the officer that Calloway had never reached
his destination, the friend’s face darkened in worry.

“That’s strange,” he muttered. “Joe was not the sort
of man who would do a thing like that willingly.”

That was the end of the trail but this information proved
to be of great value as it limited the field of search to the
coastal highway stretch between Beaumont, where Callo-
way was last seen, and Jennings, La.

The hunt for Calloway and the car was pushed forward
through most of the day to no avail. As the hours dragged
by, officials became more and more convinced that. the
missing man had become the victim of some sort of foul
play rather than being injured in some automobile acci-
dent on the slippery roads. yet

But what kind of foul play? The officials racked their
brains in various guesses.

Kidnaping? Calloway held a well-paid job, lived in a
beautiful, comfortable home in Texas but he was far from
being wealthy to the extent of attracting a kidnaper’s
greed. Furthermore, no ransom note had been received
so far by the family or anyone else.

Murder? This seemed to be a more likely alternative,
although as yet no physical clue beyond the mere fact of
Calloway’s disappearance with his car pointed to a crime
of murderous violence.

Had Calloway simply stopped off somewhere along the
road at a friend’s house? Had he for unforeseen reasons
altered the course of his trip, unaware that this change in

/f,


“Step on it!” the girl commanded abruptly as the driver tried
to slow down. ‘The sandy-haired man sat silent between them,
his face a hard mask. The car hurtled through the town of
Orange at dangerous speed and then the dark, open road
swallowed up the rocketing machine again. ‘Terror-frozen, the
man stared at the highway ahead of him. ‘This cold and dom-
ineering girl obviously was proceeding according to a precon-
ceived plan. This man, like “Searlett’s” men, was only a, tool
in her hands.

The sinister pair engaged in a whispering consultation.

“Pull up on the side!” the girl ordered calmly.

The man in the driver’s seat obeyed. He turned his head
around toward the girl and shivered as he met her chilling
stare. Her eyes were alight with a compelling, inner force.

The satidy-haired youth suddenly whipped out a pistol.

“Get out of the car!” he rasped hoarsely, pulling out the
ignition key.

The next second they both stood on the soft, sodden ground,
wind and rain whipping about them. The snarling desperado
unlocked the turtleback of the gleaming coupe.

“Get in here,” he ordered.

The driver raised his hands. “Take my money, my watch,
the car, everything I have,” he said quietly. “But... .”

“Take it!” the girl interrupted imperiously from inside the
car.

The sandy-haired youth quickly frisked the driver, deftly
emptying his pockets of all valuables and stripping off his
wristwatch.

As the victim stared helplessly at the quickly grabbing fingers
of the robber, his attention was drawn to the man’s flashing
hands. ‘The left middle finger, disfigured by a jagged scar, ‘was
stiff, crooked and clawlike.

“Now get in there!” the youth commanded.
victim into the turtleback compartment,

The lid slammed shut. An agonizing muffled scream of pain
ripped from the inside. The falling door had caught the
hapless prisoner’s right hand and the sharp edges had cut the
flesh to the bone.

The youth leaped into the driver’s scat. The car started
forward with a jerk and soon swung into the maze of gravel
roads intersecting the farming section south of Lake Charles
in a crazy pattern. A low, tortured moan was constantly drift-
ing from the turtleback as the machine, lights dimmed, rumbled

He pushed his

Discovery of the murder weapon, above, proved a

vital clue in piecing together the strange threads of

the weird crime puzzle which led officers of Louisiana,

Texas and Arkansas on a search for the real-life

“Scarlett,” seen at right as an officer forced her to
pose for cameramen.

30

A smile of satisfaction curled the

along on rough roads.
"Searlett’ as the ear moved into

sensuous lips of the modern
the night.

On the following day, Feb. 15, 1940, an alarm flashed over
the police radios and teletypes of two states,

A frantically worried woman, Mrs. Joseph P. Calloway, of
Houston, Tex., had contacted the authorities because she had
lost track of her traveling husband.

Calloway, according to the information furnished to the
police by his comely wife, had left early on the morning of
Feb. 14 to deliver a new car to friends in Jennings, La.

Calloway was supposed to telephone his wife upon his arrival
in Jennings. Since he had failed to do so, she had phoned the
next morning only to learn that the friends in Jennings with
whom he was supposed to be staying were also greatly worried
about Calloway’s failure to appear.

The car, Texas and Louisiana police learned, was a dark
green, de luxe Ford coupe bearing the Texas license number
N 10-754. :

Joseph P. Calloway was described as being 43 years old,
nearly 6 feet in height, weighing 200 pounds, and was wearing
a dark business suit and dark overcoat. He habitually wore
goldrimmed eyeglasses.

Highway patrols in the two states took up the search im-
mediately. In splashing rain tireless motorcycle officers roared
up and down the roads, searching for the missing car and some
trace of the vanished salesman. Their faces were taut and grim
as they questioned filling station attendants, garage mechanics
and the employes of roadside cafes.

No one, however, had noticed a car of the given description.
The man had vanished like a ghost in the blustery, rain-swept
night.


~ = es iiecpeereiaes Se : nesceistapa seas es cet ee —

driver had feared. The man was thoroughly
alarmed.

Mile after mile the car tore through the rain-
swept darkness. No word was spoken. Sud-
denly the driver jerked his head aside, his glance
darting from the girl to the man beside him. He
thought he had seen the fiery-eyed girl nudging
c. the fellow with her elbow.

e car felt an “What's the meaning of this?” the driver ex-
ie regretted claimed. There was a sharp, frightened edge to
He his voice.

“Nothing,” the girl said coldly. “Keep your
eyes on the road or we'll roll over.”

The red and orange neon lights of an
approaching town, glowed cerily through the
damp night,

“I think I’ll stop in the next town,” the driver
brusquely announced.

“No, you won't,” the raven-haired “Scarlett”
said flatly. There was a finality in her voice
which indicated that there was to be no debate.

The driver’s worst fears had suddenly come
true. Beads of moisture began to collect on his
brow. In his right side he felt the hard snub-
nosed muzzle of a gun. The girl had jabbed it
painfully into his flesh. What was this about,
the driver thought wildly. It was no mere
robbery. They could have robbed him when he
stopped. What were the plans of this strange,
determined woman ?

oward until

rerisiMs, too,
vior of this
- companion,
_ almost ob-

hikers.
ton apparent
she had not

aN, kids 2”
uncomtort-
© the feeling.
hing wrong.
only by the
» the movie

to reply. The
led ina thick

engine roared

‘y said.
drawled tone-
time she had
words there
tenseness the

naar

tetaghaee:

his traveling plans would cause such great worry to

These were the problems facing the police officials as they continued their

investigation throughout the day.

At 5 o’clock that afternoon, an old Lincoln-Zephyr car pulled up in front
of the Louisiana state police station on the outskirts of Lake Charles.
alighted and strode briskly into Capt. John W. Jones’ bright, friendly office.

“Maybe I can help you find that Calloway fellow you men are looking at:

for,” the visitor said, identifying himself.
Jones’ strong, energetic features tensed.
he invited the visitor to continue.
“Last night | was driving from Lake Charles,”
stopped and opened the door for him.
looked my car over and then sort of sneered at me.

jaloppy.’ And he slammed the door shut and turned around.”

“What did the hitchhiker look like?” the officer asked after a thoughtful

pause.
The motorist hesitated a moment before he replied.
and I didn’t have a good look at him.

he was fair or dark.
left hand is crooked.”

With a quick motion of his hand

the man said,
just getting dark when I noticed a hitchhiker on the road past Orange. I
Instead of getting in, the fellow 4
“You can go,’ he said.
‘I’m choosy. I only accept a ride in a nice, new car. You can keep your old

“Tt was pretty dark
He was around twenty-three years
old, rather short and of light build, but I couldn’t even make out whether
I did notice, however, that the middle finger on his

his family?

A man

“It was

This jury heard the story of the new “Scarlett” along with the carefully prepared evidence
assembled by officers of three states and returned a verdict which brought shrill, mocking
laughter from the jaunty and defiant defendant.

“What makes you think the hitchhiker has anything to do
with Calloway’s disappearance ?”

The man’s voice rose emphatically. “That man T almost
picked up looked like a no-good to me. Judging from his
manner I would say he didn’t have honest intentions. I was
glad when he refuséd the ride. That fellow was out to rob
someone.” After a brief pause, he asked sharply, “Didn't
Calloway drive a brand new car? The hitchhiker said he
wanted a ride in a nice new car.”

An hour later Capt. Jones was facing Ralph J. Maddox,
chief of police in Beaumont, not far across the Texas border
line.

“There’s still no trace of Calloway,” the Lake Charles state
officer said. “He left Beaumont in the late afternoon. We
know that much. He probably never passed through Lake
Charles because we couldn’t find a single witness in the town
who had noticed a brand new green coupe with an out-of-state

32

license. An hour ago I had a man in my.office who was haled
between Beaumont and Lake Charles about the time Calloway
must have passed that streteh of the route. 2...”

The chief of police interrupted with a flourish of his hand.
“Maybe I can help you,” he said. “Night before last a hard-
ware store here in town was broken into. T have sent a couple
of my men to the tough section and they picked up some in
teresting information. My men reported that the hardware
store burglar is an out-of-town punk who disappeared yester-
day afternoon. Underworld rumors persist that he left for
New Orleans where he intends to commit a bank holdup. I
already have phoned his description to Chief John J. Grosch
in New Orleans.”

“What does he look like?” questioned Jones as he listened
eagerly.

“He is about twenty-five years old, blond, blue-eyed, of

~ medium build. He has a small, hardly-perceptible scar below

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Toni Jo

(Continued from page 27)

For a moment not a word was spoken.
In the mind of every officer present were
the same questions, Why? Why had this
man been so hideously tortured before he
was slain? Was this a crime of sheer,
wanton sadism, or had Calloway somehow
incurred the bitter hatred of his captors?
And who was responsible?

'
WHEN THEY DROVE to the court-
house at Lake Charles, their attitude
toward dark-eyed Toni Jo Henry had
changed, She had not fied entirely. She
knew something about the case, all right.
And the fact that the sight of the body had
not disturbed her in the least, and she still
acted as though she were on a_ pleasure
jaunt, made them wonder what manner of
woman they had on their hands.

“All right,” she was told. “Now, talk—
and talk fast!”

But Toni Jo wouldn’t talk fast. Far.
from being frightened, she almost appeared
to enjoy the sensation she was causing. She
smoothed her long black bobbed hair and
regarded the officers with a cool, blank
stare. When she told her story, she told
it in her own way,

She was a recent bride, she said, and her
husband, Claude D. “Cowboy” Henry, was
in Texas’ Huntsville Prison for murder.
He had drawn a 50-year term for killing
a policeman in San Antonio. But as far
as Toni Jo was concerned, Cowboy Henry
was the swellest guy on earth and she
was nuts about him.

The officers stirred restively. That ro-
mance stuff might be interesting at any
other time, but right now they wanted to
know about the murder of Joseph Calloway.

“I’m coming to that!” she snapped.

Her prime purpose, she went on, was to
get her husband out of prison, and to do
that she decided she needed money. The
easiest way to get money, she felt, was to
rob a bank. But to rob a bank she had to
have a gun. So one night in Beaumont,
Texas, she looted a hardware store and
stole not one but 16 guns. What she did
with all this arsenal she did not say.

“I met a fellow I knew in Beaumont,”
she continued. “He said he knew my hus-
band and would help me rob a bank, but
that we needed a car-to do the job. So
we started hitch-hiking into Louisiana,
figuring we could get a car that way.
Pretty soon this salesman fellow drove
along and picked us up.”

Soon after they had gotten into Callo-
way’s car, she declared, they held him up
and began looking around for a suitable
place to dispose of him.

“We stopped once on the DeRidder High-
way, but the oil field flares made too much
light, so we drove on again. By this time
my pal got sore and told me I’d better
make up my mind. When we came to this
rice field, I figured that was as good a
place as any. We marched the man into
the field and I made him take his clothes
off. He began talking about how we'd go
to the pen sure for what we were doing.
So I let him get down on his knees and
say his prayers. Then I shot him.”

The officers were staggered, not only by
the appalling story of murder but also by
the casual manner in which thts blank-
faced brunette related it.

“But why did you have. to kill him?”
Sheriff Reid demanded.

"We wanted his car, and T didn’t want
him to squeal on me for taking it,” she
said. “My pal got the man’s watch and

£15."

ihe giri baiked Conipicicly wien Uiey
asked her to reveal the identity of her
companion.

“He’s just a rat, and he’d squeal plenty
on me if you caught him,” she said, “but

just the same I won't tell you who he is.” ©

The officers could still scarcely credit her
story. Many of them were of the opinion
that it was pure falsehood concocted in
order to get her into the limelight. Per-
haps the girl had been .a witness to the
murder, they reasoned, but surely the actual
killer must be the man. . Surely an at-
tractive girl like her, even though she
appeared as hard as nails, could not be

_ guilty of such an utterly atrocious crime.

And so they kept hammering away at
her, quizzing her, trying to trip her, asking
a hundred times the question :.

“Who is the man? - Tell us his name!”

Toni Henry refused to tell. Meanwhile,
Beaumont officers scoured the town with-
out unearthing any clue to his. identity.
The sheriff was at an impasse until Cap-
tain Jones had an idea,

“She says she’s crazy about her hus-
band,” he said. “Maybe if we bring him
over here and let him talk to her, she'll
break.”

So Cowboy Henry was released from
Huntsville Prison under guard and hur-
ried by car to Lake Charles. There -he

confronted his black-eyed bride and begged .

her to “come clean.”

“Please, honey, tell them the truth,” he
pleaded, breaking down and bursting into
tears. “Do it for me.”

For a moment she eyed him coldly, Then
she in turn broke down and sobbed in her
husband’s arms. It was the first evidence
any of the officers had seen that seemed to
indicate Toni Jo Henry had any heart or
any emotions.

She then relented enough to inform the
officers that the man they sought was nick-
named “Arkansas.” One of the investi-
gators happened to know that this was the
cognomen of a Texas ex-convict named
Horace Finnon Burks. Toni was shown
a photo of Burks and she nodded.

“That’s the guy,” she said. “The yeilow
rat! He’s just as guilty as I am, but he
wouldn’t face it. He took the car after we
burned the guy’s clothes.”

FIVE DAYS LATER the murder car,
its cushions soaked with blood, was
found in Arkadelphia, Arkansas. The act
of driving a stolen car across state lines
called the G-men into the case, and a few
days later they arrested Burks in Warren,
Arkansas. He confessed. without delay.

“I met Toni Jo in Beaumont right after
her husband went, to prison,” he stated.
“She begged me to help her rob a bank
so she could get money to work for his
release.

“We didn’t plan to kill Calloway. When
we got to that rice field, Toni held a gun
on him and marched him out to the hay-
stack. She told me to go back and start
the car so we could get away in a hurry.
I heard a shot and she came running back
to the car. I asked her what happened,
but she told me to keep my mouth shut and
get going.”

The case was complete. Toni Jo Henry,
who said her true maiden name was Annie
Beatrice McQuistion, went on_ trial before
Judge John T. Hood in district court at
Lake Charles on March 27, 1940.

Her defense counsel, Norman Anderson
and Clement Moss, brought out the fact
that the girl had left home at 14, had be-
come a drug addict and’ an habitue of
Shreveport’s red light district.

District Attorney C. V. Pattison denied
that these could be looked on as mitigating
factors since the defendant was not under
the influence of drugs at the time of the
crime,

(Continued on Sage 48)

INSIDE DETECTIVE


(Continued Jrom page 46)

On the stand, Mrs. Henry flatly repudi-
ated her earlier confession that she had
fired the fatal bullet. The State countered
with ballistics evidence that tied the mur-
der slug with the gun which had been
later found on her person.

The jury of 12 men heard the evidence.
Undoubtedly they were thinking of genial,
good-natured Joseph Calloway, kissing
his wife and daughter goodbye as he left
Houston on that fatal trip. Undoubtedly
they thought of the cold, sadistic villainy
of the person who had repaid Calloway’s
kindness with murder.

“Guilty,” said the jury.

The verdict made the death sentence
mandatory. Toni Jo Henry heard the
dire words of the judge unflinchingly, her
black eyes narrowed, her face expression-
less.

But “finis” had not yet been written to
the case. Twice during the following year,
Mrs, Henry’s attorneys managed to secure
new trials for her. Twice again the
brunette beauty was convicted and twice
again sentenced to death. Meanwhile, her
Companion, Burks, was also tried on a first-
degree murder charge and was likewise
given the death penalty.

For more than two years the doomed
girl waited behind bars in the parish jail
at Lake Charles while the processes of law
ran their slow course. When at last the
sands of time. were running low, she was
interviewed in her cell by newspapermen.

More gentle and subdued than when she :

had shocked police by her callous indif-
ference to murder, she told reporters that
she was prepared to die but wasn’t happy
about it,

And again she mentioned her husband,
Cowboy Henry, with longing in her voice.

“That guy is king of my heart,” she said.
“Nobody ever really cared about me until
he came along.”

Scheduled to go to the electric chair on
November 28, 1942, Mrs. Henry stuck to
her story that Burks and not she was the
guilty party until November 21. Then, ap-
parently resigned to her fate, she called
officials to her cell and made a confession,

She had fired the fatal shot, she ad-
mitted; she was guilty of the actual mur-
der and not Burks. And she hoped that
this belated confession would save Burks,
still waiting his date with the chair, from
execution.

Two days later Claude “Cowboy” Henry,
the man who was “king of her heart,”
escaped from the Texas prison farm at
Sugarland, stole a truck and presumably’
headed for Lake Charles. Police said

Henry iiau conided io pals that he wm
tended to kidnap Judge Hood, who had
sentenced his wife.

Texas officials warned that Henry was
dangerous and ordered police to shoot on
‘sight.

“He’s crazy!” Toni Jo exclaimed when
she heard of it, worried for her husband’s
safety even though her own hours were
numbered. “He’s crazy if he tries to set
me free.”

But if that was. Cowboy’s intention, he
did not succeed. For on Saturday, Novem-
ber 28, a weak and shaking Toni Jo Henry
was made ready for her date with death.
She broke into tears when attendants began
to cut off her hair so that the electrodes
could be applied.

“Do you have to do that?” she sobbed.

Her iron nerve was broken, her tough-
ness a thing of the past. As she was led to
the chair, her pale face framed in the rem-
nants of her shorn black hair looked like
the face of a terrified child. She was only

_ 26, and the first woman to be sent. to

Louisiana’s chair.

“Goodbye, Toni Jo,” the executioner
murmured, and pulled the switch. Two
minutes later she was pronounced dead.

At this writing, Burks still awaits his
fate, and Cowboy Henry is still at large.

Toni Jo Henry occupies a unique place
among America’s Most Villainous Women,
and psychologists have much to ponder in
her case. Possessed of a twisted sense of
“honor,” she refused for days to squeal on
her accomplice; later, when her own doom
drew close, she made a final confession
with the intention of saving his life. All her
troubles stemmed from her blind love for
her killer husband and her criminal aim
to rob a bank so that she could help him.

Thus, like other notorious American
murderesses, Mrs. Henry had spots of
tenderness in her. But when she had Jo-
seph Calloway—the man who had kindly
picked her up out of the rain—at her mercy,
she was a creature of hard, savage cruelty.

There was no tenderness in her when
she forced Calloway out of the car at gun-

point; when she ordered him to remove

his clothes and say his prayers; and when
she fired the bullet that ended his agony.

No... At that moment Toni Jo Henry
was a she-devil incarnate, a feline beast of
prey taking sadistic pleasure in inflicting
pain. .For that she paid the supreme
penalty. . .

Look for the final instalment in this
gripping series in next month’s INnsinE
Detective!

President

(Continued from page 44)

these men would. But you get me into
trouble with my associates after swearing ‘
to keep confidential what I told you. I must

ask you to leave, Mrs. Potter. You'll get
your money in the morning.”

“But what shall I tell Mr. Burr?” Mrs. >= -

Potter, now on the verge of tears, in-
quired. ;

“Tell him what you wish,” Lindsay an-
swered coldly. “Tell him I’m a crook and
a swindler and that you made me give back
your $30,000. Then tell him to go to the dis-
trict attorney and report me. And then,”
he added with an underlying threat in his
voice which she could not mistake, “we'll
see what happens.”

THE CRUSHED WOMAN left and tele-
phoned Burr again, assuring him that she
had been completely mistaken, that Lindsay
wanted to return her money in the morn-
ing but she was not going to accept it. She
also told ‘him about the swindler’s con-
cluding remarks.

But Lindsay had mistaken his man. Burr
was not as easily fooled as the women
whom Lindsay had been swindling. He
called his bluff and went te see Assistant
District Attorney Richard C. Murphy,
whom he knew. It did not take Murphy
long to establish the fact that the Domino
Club had its headquarters in the swindler’s
imagination, and that neither “Perce” nor
“J. P.” nor “Tommy boy” nor “Old Pal
Jess” nor any of the others with whom
such long and intimate telephone conversa-
tions had been held knew any person named
Alfred E. Lindsay.

Under Murphy’s instructions, Detective
Sergeant Bernard Flood and Detective Ser-
geant William Roddy, with Mrs. Potter,
hurried to the Ritz Carlton. They were too
late by just a couple of hours. Lindsay had
checked out and had left no forwarding
address.

A telephone message to the police depart-
ment at Nyack revealed that the Lindsay

‘mansion had been closed and the-sérvants

dismissed. The now-unmanned yacht rode
at anchor in the Hudson.

The news got about. Weeping, disillu-
sioned and penniless women thronged
Murphy’s office. The more he heard of the
ruthless rapaciousness of the super-

chilling as any plece of fiction.

April INSIDE DETECTIVE

This was the opening clue in one of the most bizarre murder
stage in a glittering night club, then out into the open range.
the title, “Horace and Morris—Gunmen in Greasepaint."

Another thriller in the four-star April Issue Is

who lived alone on the outskirts of town? What connection with h
seven of her pet dogs had been murdered—always at night?

A KILLER WITH DYED HAIR AND ROUGED FACE as

When Phoenix officers looked at the dead bandit, the
they discovered to thelr amazement that the gunman had dyed his hair and smeared his face with theatrical makeup
-——and undoubtedly his pal, who had escaped, had done the same thing.

Skilful sleuthing found the answer—a staggering solution to a case utterly bizarre.
Look for these and other gripping true cases In the big
February 28. The price is still ten cents!

y thought there was something odd about his face.

hunts in Arizona—a clue that led investigators back-
Look for it in next month's INSIDE DETECTIVE under

“Kansas' Goat Woman Mystery"—a real-life case as eerie and spine-
What had happened to quaint, solitary Malvina Villemonte, the almost legendary woman
er disappearance was there In the fact that

-value April INSIDE DETECTIVE, on sale everywhere about

America's Biggest Value At 10c

Then

48

INSIDE DETECTIVE


ie +p Tho Vv
FILLS ,

‘oni Jo. whit Lake Charles, La.,
toni Jo, whit

Harold i

’d been a dope-fiend,
hough she had lived badly, she died working there
well. The strongest, nN could not have
walked that terrible

alled Louisiana’s “tiger woman.” action backed
Ht ' 4n many ways she was just that. She and Horace

CO lmE veETET Ye INA GC

MARCH, 1942

acca Ratt etter. se —-

G»
‘ 3=25-1943
lake Charles, La., et ate

si" Finnon Burks, he
. tine Day killing of J. P.Cs
man, ina Louisiana rice field, and

Claude (Cowboy) Henry

+ policeman—a]] three of the

m the Sugarland Prison ca
been sentenced to serve

back.” The man who, cri
his rough love and dev

COoNvicts In the Sugarland Prison camp, near Hous-
ton, Tex. have the daily newspape
‘S HUSBAND___ When the gove
"Cowboy" Henry, One-time Texas
buckaro

istanee to police. up to Cowboy Claude,

The Houston Press of Saturday,
the news that Toni Jo’

dings, and former attempts to
a grisly ending. She’d

Covering the gate.
O the electric chair The Cowboy’ i

more gamely than Tonj Jo.

fi She’d often been ¢

—

on co Y

r dupe and confede

otion.

AZVOME


ath

mci i ci alt

ing—and Toni Jo, 200 miles away, was facing the
electric chair. .

The plan, officers agree, was desperate enough. It was
for the Cowboy to break prison, make his way to Lake
Charles, kidnap the trial judge or some member of his
family, and trade the captive back to society for a
life sentence for Toni Jo.

C. W. Woods, superintendent of the prison power
plant, was passed through the iron-wire gate’s magnetic
lock as tower guards recognized him.

He drove over near the laundry, parked his pickup
truck, which bore the Texas Prison System markings,
and got out. Following the rules, he carried the keys
with him.

In a split second the scene turned to action. The

laundry door opened, and two men in stripes ran out.
One, Byers, brandished a stiletto made from a file. The
Cowboy, disdaining anything but his hammer-like
hands, closed in and snatched the keys from Woods.

“We're going out,” he snarled viciously. ‘Make one
yap, and you take it in the guts.”

With that he rabbit-punched the older man at the
base of the brain and dropped him, unconscious, to the
ground,

Tower guards to east and west of the entrance gate
started to their feet in amazement as the small truck
turned on two wheels and whizzed in a skidding half
circle toward the gate.

Only at the last moment did they see that the man
at the wheel wore only a white undershirt; that he

TONI JO
Photo snapped in court after she
had ‘been sentenced ‘to death

shows Tiger :. Woman's stoicism.@)


48

"Sea a ‘ es

Scarf hiding her shaven head, she held the chaplain’s hand as her last walk began

Of the man she murdered she said,

“He does not return to haunt me.”

looked forward to a busy evening, atte:
the sportsmen had liquored up to cele-
brate the victory or to drown the sor-
row of defeat. But for the moment the
girls had little to do but lounge around,
do their nails, and set one another’s hair.

Then the doorbell rang. A maid an-
swered it, called the madame, and in a
moment she ushered in a dark, husky
six-footer who bounced a little on the
balls of his feet when he walked. His
dark eyes flicked swiftly over the half-
dozen girls in the parlor, the two syn-
thetic blondes, the two whose red hair
might have been the real thing, the
mousey, brown-haired chick—and the
one with gleaming black hair in shoul-
der-length waves. Seeing this one, he
didn’t bother with a second look at the
others. They got the message. Their
bright looks of artificial expectancy
were replaced by professional indiffer-
ence as he strode to his jet-haired
choice.

“Hi,” he said, his face creasing into
a broad, pleasant smile. “I’m Cowboy.”

She smiled back, then laughed
“Hiya, Cowboy. I’m Toni Jo. Got
something on your mind?”

“You bet. And I ain’t fixin’ to read
me a good book.”

They both laughed again, chatted for
a few moments, then left the others.

Toni Jo later described the meeting
as “love at first sight, just like in the
soap operas—but this was real.” Cer-
tainly her actions when they came
downstairs tended to support this. It

A few minutes later, attendants bore
her body from the prison on a stretcher

“That gu
Poni Jo s

aid

starting 1
Toni J

1 Walk

he suggest

house, she

had ma

lo Ssté

‘Tt

1e@ meage
tappea
She laug!

aTEA

the
“owt
break
madame
Ing on ner
OL it €
‘bout Cow!
“T Know
was tried f
found him
peal and the

was self-def«

out together

pulled

a REDON ANB Na ep —
, ry io

a4

“That stickup,’ I said. ‘‘We may
have to shoot it out, you know.”
She nodded.

“We have to get ammunition for
my gun,’ I continued. “Those .38
slugs you have don’t fit my .32.”

For a second she again squinted
at me suspiciously. Probably she
suspected that I had something up
my sleeve. Brusquely she changed
the subject.

“T want a cup of java,”
drawled.

“So do I,” I said.

“T tell you what,” she suggested,
and lifted herself half up from the
bed. “I’ll let you out. You go
downstairs and get two cups of
coffee. But don’t try any funny
things. If you double-cross me I’m
goin’ to tell the cops you drilled
that fat guy.”

As soon as I was down on the
street, I ran for the car like a devil
was after me. He sure was. When
I turned around and shot a last
glance back at the hotel, I saw Toni
standing at the window and staring
at me out of a face contorted with
wild rage.

I burned the road up under me
until I got to Arkadelphia, Arkan-
sas. I parked the car on Main
Street, locked the door and threw
the keys in the gutter. I figured
they soon would start looking for
the car, and I didn’t want to get
caught with it.

I walked to the outskirts of the
town and thumbed a ride.

“I’m going to Prescott,” the fel-

she

CRIME CONFESSIONS.

low said. ‘Where’re you goin’?”
“Prescott.”
One place was as good as another
to me.

[* Prescott I bought a newspaper
and went to a tourist camp. I
skimmed over the news. They
hadn’t discovered Calloway yet.
Maybe Toni was right, and it would
take them weeks or months before
they would find the body.

~The following day I bought a
newspaper again, but there was still
nothing. I counted the dough I had
left after I’d got the paper. There
was something like seven cents in
my pocket, and there sure was
nothing in my stomach. I still had
Calloway’s gold wristwatch.

‘For a while I fidgeted before a
pawnshop. Then I walked in. To
hell with it all! I was hungry. I
pawned the watch and cleared out
of Prescott as fast as I could.

In the afternoon I got off the bus
in Banks, where my mother lived.
I stayed with her for the night. In
the morning when I bought a pa-
per and looked over the front page
I got the jitters. |

There was Toni Henry’s picture
on the front page.

My eyes flew over the lines. The
cops had caught her in Shreveport
the night before. They had been
trailing her from Beaumont... her
and her accomplice. They had found
the guns we hadn’t taken along,
hidden behind the hole in the ceil-

ing of her room. Her accomplice,
she had told the coppers, was a lit-
tle yellow rat. “He would squeal
on me plenty if he could, but you
won’t make me tell his name,” she
had screamed. .

I didn’t go back to my mother’s
house. I didn’t want to be caught
there. I hitch-hiked to Warren,
Arkansas, where relatives of mine
lived. I thought Warren would be
a good place to lay low for awhile.
Maybe Toni wouldn’t squeal and
the whole thing would blow over.

She squealed. ;

Four days after her arrest they
took her to Beaumont and locked
her in a cell with Claude ‘“‘Cowboy”’
Henry, her husband, whom they’d
brought, in irons, from the pen.
After an hour sh¢’ asked to see
Sheriff Henry A.” Reid of Lake
Charles, who’d brought her down.

“FE will tell the truth,” the she-
devil whined. “I didn’t do it.”

“Who did it, then?” asked the
sheriff.

“The little yellow rat.”

“Will you tell me who he is?”

“Yes,”

“Go ahead.”

“The girls I worked with in Beau-
mont call him Arky. That’s all I
know.”

The bloodhounds were on my
scent.

A smart cop figured out that I
probably was from Arkansas, since
they called me Arky.

The sheriff in Banks remembered
a guy, Finnon Bruce Burke, who

CHAINED!

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 18

went by the name of Arkansas. He
guessed it might be me. He did
some scouting around in Banks and
learned I had been in town a couple
of days before. In the meantime,
they had picked up the car I had
abandoned on Main Street in Arka-
delphia.

Qn February 20, 1940, at about

nine o’clock in the evening, I was
alone in the house when there was
a rap on the door.

I guessed what kind of company
I was getting. I put on my jacket
and unlocked the door.

Three guys were standing outside.
One flashed a badge at me. The
next thing I knew I was handcuffed.

Toni went to trial first, on March
27, 1940. It didn’t help her to throw
the blame on me. They sentenced
her to be hanged, the second wo-
man in Louisiana to swing.

As I write this, I am still waiting
for trial. The sheriff says I’m as
guilty as Toni and that I will get
the hangman’s rope around my
neck, too.

Thirteen steps lead to the gallows,
and they tie thirteen loops in the
noose. I don’t know why. And I
wish I didn’t have to wonder why.
I met the she-devil on the thir-
teenth. Yeah, and they hang only
on Fridays. A little rat like me who
was too yellow to knock a black-
haired sporting girl from Beaumont
over her bonehead when she*pulled
her rod on an innocent guy... .

“Oh, please, Chuck,’”’ I whispered
in sudden panic. “I—I just can’t,
dearest.”

“Tt’s all in the mind, Grace, and
in man-made codes and traditions,”
he said. ‘When you're sure of a
man it’s not wrong, and you’re sure
of me, aren’t you?”

“It’s not that, Chuck,” I said. “I
—I just want everything to stay
honest and sacred. Can’t you see,
honey?”

He pushed me away from him
and stood up. “No, you don’t trust
me,” he said gloomily. “The test is
when you’re willing to trust a man
before the wedding comes off—
that’s the real test, Grace.”

It had all been so beautifully
clean up to now. He had been such
a perfect gentleman. But I loved
him. I felt that I could not bear
to make him angry with me.

“And he loves me,” I told my-
self. “I am sure of him. His every
word and action is filled with sin-
cerity—I’ve just got to believe
him.”

I stood up shakily and took his
hand.

“J—TI’ll trust you, Chuck,” I whis-
pered. :

He gripped my hand eagerly and
guided me to a clump of bushes. I
began crying then ... and later, in
bed at home, I sobbed convulsively.
I just couldn’t feel that I had done
the right thing.

The next morning I explained to
Mother and Loretta about the girl,
but they did not believe that she
was his sister. :

“He didn’t give her any brother-
ly kiss,” and Mother stubbornly.

“He’s just spoofing you, Grace.”

“Just the same I’m marrying
him,” I said hotly. “I’m old enough
now to decide things for myself.”

I had to meet Chuck away from
the house, though. Mother would
not let him come in. How I wish
now I had listened to her warn-
ings! rf

For I began seeing Chuck in the
room he lived in, downtown. He
kept telling me we would get mar-
ried as soon as he had a little money
in the bank. I’d tell him we wouldn’t
need much, that I would even mar-
ry him if he had only enough to
buy the marriage license, as I had'a
job, too, and we’d certainly have
enough money to get by on hand-
somely.

“No, darling,” he said one night,
“T want this wedding to be some-
thing to remember. We’ve got to

have things start off without any.

money worries. And you're quitting
your job afterward. No wife of
mine will have to work in a knit-
ting mill: A wife belongs in the
home.” i

You would think that a man who’

talked liked that was a man of

character. That’s why Chuck talked -

that way.. He just wanted to hold
onto me.

M* love for Chuck, of course, had
increased a hundred-fold after
that night in Rockefeller Park. It
is always that way, I guess, on the
girl’s side, when she is truly in love.
But on the man’s side, I learned
later from a police officer, there is

almost always a change of manner. .

Sometimes it is very brutal, some-

time very subtle—but it is almost
always there. -

With Chuck the change was both
subtle and brutal. At first, he was
appreciative and twice as loving as
before. But as the weeks passed
he became brutal. He started break-
ing dates. He’d tell me he was see-
ing business men about a new job,
and had to see them at night. Then
he started taking me to cafes and
beer parlors, instead of on walks or
to movie theaters as he used to.

There was little I could do, and I
realized it sickeningly. I couldn’t
go to Mother or Loretta for sym-
pathy, for they were constantly at
me to break off with him com-
pletely.

But I finally became a little angry
with Chuck. It was really a terrible
worry that prompted this anger.
I’d given him my body, and I knew
that if-he left me I would never
be able to love another man, or let
any other man fall in love with me.
It would not be fair—but I was not
really thinking of any existence if
Chuck left me. The very thought
of such a thing would have been
unbearable. ;

When I approached Chuck about
it, he put me off. But I kept after
him. I would not let him touch me
finally, and that angered him. Then
one night I came right out and told

him I would have to know at once

when the wedding would take place.
For a moment his eyes blazed,
then a smile broke on his lips and
he leaned over and took-my hand.
We were at a cafe in downtown
Cleveland.
“Honey,” he said, “I’ve been so

worried about getting a decent job,
I’ve neglected you. But I’m even
more worried tonight. I’ve lost my
job with the magazine company.”

I just smiled at him. “You'll get
another one, Chuck,” I said quickly.
“Can’t we just forget all these wor-
ries about jobs and money? If we
were married we could both help
each other by just being together,
Chuck.”

“You’d marry me without a job?”
he grinned.

“Sure I would.”

He stared at me thoughtfully,
then his smile broadened and a
gleam came into his eyes that star-
tled me.

“Okay,” he said, “Ill apply for
the license tomorrow morning, and
in five days we’ll have it, and use it.
You have to wait five days in this
county, you know.”

“Oh, Chuck!” I cried.
mean it?” :

“On one condition,’ he said gen-
tly. “That you don’t go home again
I want you to stay with me from
now on.”

“But, Chuck—” I began.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Chuck.”

“Okay, I’ve set a wedding date.
only five days from now—is there
any reason why we can’t start living
together?”

I sat back weakly in the chair. If
Chuck was sincere, there really was
no reason to refuse his request, fo:
Ihad already permitted him to have
me. But I was suddenly frightened
of him. I couldn’t explain why, but
there was something in, Chuck's
eyes that warned me to: watch out.

“Do you

1 steerer: me mMURETTIOR ree eee ae a


.


FEMME FATALE

RESSED
TO KILL

Many men were her pawns. For the man she really loved, she committed murder

HE PETITE brunette, her

wavy, blue-black hair shim-

mering under the harsh glare
of the prison lights, spoke in a
voice that was attractively femi-
nine, but there was a hardness in
her tone that betrayed the life she
had led. ‘Most folks wonder what
goes on in the mind of a con-
demned person,” she said. She
took a deep drag from her ciga-
rette, exhaled a jet of smoke
straight at the circle of her lis-
teners. Then she smiled archly.

“In the first place, the victim doesn’t
return to haunt me. Hell, I never
think of him. I’ve known all along it
would be my life for his. And far as
I’m concerned, my life is worth as
much to me as his was to him.”

The speaker was Toni Jo Henry, 27
years old. She was talking to a crowd of
reporters in her final press conference
at the Lake Charles Parish jail, in
Lake Charles, Louisiana, a few days
before her scheduled execution.

On the afternoon of this press con-
ference Toni Jo was resigned to her
fate. Nothing, so far as she or anyone
else could see, could prevent her going

By J. E. GRIFFIN

to her death at the appointed time. In
the two and a half years which had
elapsed since she had forced a man
to strip eff all his clothes, kneel, and
then shot him in the back of the neck
as he said his prayers, Toni Jo had
had three separate trials. The juries
in the first two had found her guilty,
but their verdicts had been set aside
on technicalities.

Finally, after her third trial, the
jury again found her guilty of murder
and she was sentenced to death. She
was granted a stay of execution pend-
ing an appeal to the Louisiana supreme
court, but this proved to be merely a
postponement of her day of judgment;
the supreme court heard the evidence,
weighed the facts, and upheld both the
conviction and the death sentence of
Toni Jo Henry.

The press conference, then, was the
opening curtain of the final act in her
tragically dramatic life, or so it seemed
at the time. In reality, it proved to be
the fuse which ignited yet another, and
completely unexpected, sequence of
events before the curtain was at last
rung down. For some 200 miles away
from Lake Charles, at Central Prison
Farm No. 2 in Sugar Land, Texas, a
man read the account of Toni Jo’s last

interview, in which she had also
avowed her love for him, and he went
berserk.

His name was Claude “Cowboy”
Henry, sometime prize fighter, who had
found Toni Jo in a brothel, married
her, forced her to kick the drug habit,
and then went to prison for a 50-year
sentence when he was convicted of
murder. No sooner had Cowboy Henry
read Toni Jo’s final protestation of her
love for him than he began plotting a
fantastic scheme. Not only did he plan
his own escape from the Texas prison
farm, but he did so with the avowed
intention of rescuing his ever-loving
Toni Jo from her death cell in the
neighboring state.

And he was well on his way toward
accomplishing his objective when he
broke out of the Sugar Land prison
farm in a daredevil escape that set off
one of the greatest manhunts in the
annals of modern crime.

His feat was the ironic climax to a
bizarre love affair that began nearly
three years earlier in a Texas bordello.
It was a Saturday afternoon in late
fall, and there was little action at the
bordello as yet, because most of the
male population was at the local high
school football game. The madame

RD

Unawar


34

Fr. Richard was aware of local gossip sug-
gesting that Toni Jo was getting special treatment.
Rumors circulated that she had become the lover
of various local officials—jailers, law enforce-
ment officers, even the courthouse group of law-
yers and politicians. He did not believe these
stories, and he never saw any evidence that Toni
Jo was unfaithful to Cowboy Henry.

Fr. Richard found that Toni Jo “was passion-
ately in love with her husband.” She spoke of him
often, doing his time in Texas. She wrote him
letters every day, and he wrote her back. Corre-
spondence took up most of her time in jail. She
received many thousands of letters from all over
the country. After her most widely circulated
interview in August 1942, 129 pieces of mail
came on one day. On another day, closer to her
execution, 209 pieces came. Some people sent
money. Others sent Bibles. A few letter writers
became regular correspondents; some came to see
her in jail, travelling across town or across the
country to visit.

At home in her spruced-up jail cell, which she
called a “death cell right along,” Toni Jo was a
gracious hostess who enjoyed receiving visitors.
She said in her August 4, 1942, interview with
Elliott Chaze of World Wide Syndicate:

“I think condemned persons fret more
about losing contact with human beings
than anything else. You feel so out of it.
It’s more than these bars; it’s more like
a hellish battle with long distance when
she won't give you a number—anybody’s
number—not one friendly human being’s
number. You get so cold and pretty soon
you're a freak even to yourself.”

She passed her time, when she was not visit-
ing or writing letters, in listening to the radio, or
reading the papers—she liked to keep up with the
war news and liked to work the crossword
puzzles. As her spiritual adviser, did Fr. Rich-
ard ever see Toni Jo reading the Bible? No, he
says, but she had a lot of time at night by herself
when people weren’t around. She always seemed
thoughtful and well-informed, though she had
never finished grade school. She asked intelli-
gent questions and appeared to take what he told
her seriously. He never sensed that her interest
in the Church was fakery. Jailer Gibbs Duhon,

The Angolite—-May/June 1995

who saw more of Toni Jo than anyone else for
three years, commented right before her execu-
tion that she had lived up to the principles of the
Church.

Did Fr. Richard ever ask her about why she
committed such a terrible crime? No, he Says,
he did not. But others did. The best answer she
gave may have been in the interview with Elliott
Chaze on August 4, 1942. This was her answer:

‘T'm still not sure why we took his
clothes. ... I said once and I say now, it
seemed that would delay pursuit. I’m
telling you I shot him, because it’s no
good lying now. Burks didn’t do it.
Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t knock
the man unconscious instead, but it was
like being drunk, real drunk.

“Ever pull something when you were
drunk and that something seemed the
cutest, smartest thing in the world, but
it was the awfulest? Well, me, I was
drunk with pressure. I told you about my
husband. ...I always knew there was
a God running the show. But I thought
maybe I could steal just one little act.”

As the parish priest, Fr. Richard often encoun-
tered people who expressed hatred of Toni Jo
Henry. He met a man on the street one day who
said he wanted to “pull the switch.” Fr. Richard
invited this man to go along on a jail visit. The
two men went upstairs and had a long talk with
Toni Jo in her cell. When they were walking
down the steps of the courthouse to leave, the
man told Fr. Richard, “You know, that woman
should never be put to death.”

Fr. Richard said Toni Jo had that kind of ef-
fect on people. From her point of view, the un-
fortunate thing was that you had to get to know
her first; her sympathetic qualities never came
across to jurymen in the courtroom.

Her second murder trial lasted from Febru-
ary 3 to February 7, 1942. It was much more low-
key than the first. Enough time had passed that
public interest was not as strong. Only local at-
torneys were involved, C.V. Pattison and Coleman
Reed as prosecutors and Moss and Anderson re-
turning as defense counsel.


The Angolite—-May/June 1995

Claude Henry, in a letter written on Septem-
ber 22, 1940, from his prison in Sugarland,
Texas, had attempted to hire attorney “J.T.
Hawkins,” who in reality was Griffin Hawkins,
to get a life sentence for Toni Jo. He just needed
to know how much it would cost.

Griffin Hawkins replied, on September 24,
that the fee he had discussed with Cowboy’s
emissary was for arguing her case before the Su-
preme Court; he could not guarantee a life sen-
tence. After Moss and Anderson were successful
in getting the first conviction overturned two
months later, Toni Jo and Cowboy must have
determined to go ahead with them as counsel—
or perhaps they lacked the resources to hire other
more high-powered counsel.

A different judge presided, Mark C. Pickrel.
Toni Jo did not testify this time. The informa-
tion about her personal history and family life,
that the attorneys wanted the jury to hear, was
presented by Emma Holt when she was recalled
by the defense. George McQuiston testified this
time, about statements Toni Jo had made to him.
And Finnon Burks, waiting to be executed in the
same parish jail with Toni Jo, testified for the
State that she had done the shooting. Absent the
histrionics of the first trial, the result was the
same: a verdict of guilty as charged to murder,
signed by Lane Young, foreman, February 7,
1941. Judge Pickrel sentenced Toni Jo to death
again on February 26, 1941.

Moss and Anderson appealed again, and again
the Louisiana Supreme Court overturned the con-
viction. The basis for reversible error this time
was in the jury selection process. The Court ruled
that DA Pattison’s questioning of prospective ju-
rors was slanted. It resulted in the selection of
several jurors who clearly favored the death pen-
alty. One juror, the Court said, should have been
excused because of preconceived opinions about
the case. This opinion was issued on June 10,
1941, and State of Louisiana v. Annie Beatrice
Henry went back to square one.

Toni Jo’s third murder trial began on January
20, 1942. By now everyone must have been fa-
miliar with the drill. A new team of prosecutors,
District Attorney Griffin T. Hawkins and First
Assistant DA Joe Tritico presented the state’s

35

case, Moss and Anderson defended, J udge Pickrel
presided. This was the speediest and least con-
troversial trial. The death verdict was returned
on January 23, signed by Foreman D.A. Collette.
Toni Jo was formally sentenced to death, for the
third time, by Judge Pickrel on January 31, 1942.

The third time was the charm for the pros-
ecutors; finding no major errors, the Louisiana
Supreme Court upheld Toni Jo’s conviction on
June 29, 1942. Getting past this important legal
hurdle, the state began to make serious plans to
put Toni Jo Henry and Finnon Burks to death.
Both would be electrocuted, rather than hung, as
the state had changed its method of execution in
1940. Two men had been electrocuted in 1941,
and three more would die in the electric chair in
1942 before Toni Jo’s turn came.

Governor Sam Jones, who coincidentally was
elected to office the week Toni Jo and Finnon
Burks were arrested, signed a death warrant in
July, but an appeal about the method of execu-
tion delayed the scheduled August 10 execution
date. Elliott Chaze’s long interview, circulated
nationwide on August 4, rekindled public inter-
est in Toni Jo, and for the next four months she
remained in the limelight.

Cowboy Henry was reportedly brooding over
his wife’s fate. Robert Benoit, in his 1992 Ameri-
can Press retrospective, says that Cowboy made
two attempts to escape prison and come to see
Toni Jo. On August 19, 1942, Cowboy wrestled
a pistol away from a guard and tried to escape,
but he couldn’t get out of the compound. Two
hours later he was back in his cell.

On November 23, the Monday before Toni
Jo was scheduled to die on Saturday, Cowboy
escaped again. This time, Benoit says, he made
it all the way to Beaumont before law officers
captured him in a hotel room on November 25.
He was transported immediately to the maximum
security confinement of “the Walls” unit of the
Huntsville penitentiary.

On Friday, November 27, the day before she
was executed, Toni Jo and Cowboy were allowed
to talk one last time—for ten minutes by tele-
phone. Deputy Sheriff Henry Reid, Jr., explained
the call as the response to Toni Jo’s last request
to see a relative. Toni Jo was calm, but Cowboy

The Angolite—-May/June 1995

No, it wasn’t Copeland who had erred, it was
Coleman D. Reed, the Calcasieu assistant DA,
who spoke to the jury of a case he had prosecuted
in Oakdale in which the defendant was released
from prison after serving only four years of a life
sentence for murder. His point was obvious, and
well-made. At the time a life sentence in Louisi-
ana ordinarily meant much less than a lifetime
would be served. But the Supreme Court said
he knew the jury could not be told this. This
same prosecutor, in making an enthusiastic argu-
ment during the trial, had said of Toni Jo: “She
is as dangerous as a poisonous snake.” The Su-
preme Court clearly found the first trial exces-
Sive, in many aspects, and ordered the case
returned to Calcasieu Parish.

In the summer of 1940, while her legal ap-
peal was underway, Toni Jo got word to a young
parish priest, Fr. Wayne Richard, who had just
been assigned to the Church of the Immaculate
Conception in Lake Charles, that she would like
to talk with him. Fr. Richard, who had just been
ordained, was only a couple of years older than
Toni Jo. Today Fr. Richard is a retired priest
living in Lafayette, the last surviving member of
the group closest to Toni Jo while she was in jail,
as far as he knows. He has not spoken with any
other member of the execution party in half a cen-
tury.

Fr. Richard recalls that about two years after
the execution the Lake Charles newspaper did a
long article on the Toni Jo Henry case, focusing
on the sudden demise of many participants in the
three trials. DA Pattison and Sheriff Henry Reid
Sr. had died (immediately before Finnon Burks’s
execution), and several others whom Fr. Richard
no longer recalls.

Fr. Richard was himself reassigned to a dif-
ferent parish, in New Iberia, some time later; it
could have been that as the new priest it was his
turn to go, or it may have been, as he has always
suspected, it was to remove from the diocese
someone so closely associated with the execution.
Fifty-two years after she met her fate in the elec-
tric chair, Fr. Richard still vividly remembers
Toni Jo Henry.

He describes her as tall, about five feet seven
or eight, with dark hair that was her crowning

33

glory. Her complexion was dark; she was said
to be part-Indian. She was well-spoken, had no
accent, and was fastidious about her appearance.
But he also describes “a certain rigidity or hard-
ness about her. She was not a very emotional
person.”

Why did she call for him to visit? He still
has no idea. Toni Jo was not Catholic, but she
said she had been attracted to the Church: “She
said she would walk into a church and light a
candle to St. Joseph.” St. Joseph was the patron
saint of carpenters, and workingmen, and the
Universal Church. He was also the patron saint
of the dying.

“Toni Jo always felt that she was going to be
electrocuted.” Did she get religion out of fear of
death? Fr. Richard doesn’t think so. She wasn’t
afraid. She was pessimistic. “She thought she
didn’t have a chance.”

She did seem genuinely interested in learn-
ing about the Catholic faith. He would go to visit
her in jail two or three times a week. She would
ask him questions about religion and the Church,
and he would answer those questions, or other
times they would just talk. He says they never
discussed the crime itself, and they talked very
little about her early life, which she generally did
not want to discuss.

A newspaper account says that Fr. Richard
baptized Toni Jo on August 30, 1940, after three
weeks of instruction. Fr. Richard recalls giving
her instruction for a much longer period of time,
perhaps eight to twelve months, before she was
baptized, but he cannot firmly dispute the date.

Toni Jo Henry was a very controversial fig-
ure around Lake Charles, but she got along fine
with her keepers in the jail. “She had a certain
persona that affected the people she came in con-
tact with,” Fr. Richard recalls. She was provided
with a two-room “suite” in the jail. She furnished
it—courtesy of “a friend from Texas”—as one
might a small apartment: armchair, dresser, desk,
curtains, fan, radio, coffee pot—confining, per-
haps, but with all the necessities. The last few
months before she was executed, she was even
allowed to adopt a jailhouse puppy, a rat terrier
that stayed in her cell.

36

broke down and could say very little to her dur-
ing the conversation.

The Lake Charles jailers, who overheard her
end of the conversation, reported that she told her
husband, “Honey, they couldn’t do that,” prob-
ably meaning that he had escaped hoping that jail
officials would allow him to see her again. “The
only thing to do is the right thing and you know
you shouldn’t have done that.”

Toni Jo told her husband to “put his faith in
God and during the remainder of his life to make
every effort to live an upright and law-abiding
life.”

“I’m glad I knew you as long as I did, honey,”
she said, “and I’m sorry that our relationship can’t
continue.”

She spoke briefly about her execution, sched-
uled for noon the next day. “I know it has to
come and I’m ready. Don’t feel hard toward the
authorities. It is their job.”

Finally she told him: “Hurry up and get out
of that zoot suit, and walk out the front door like
a man, so your mother will be proud of you.”

How would Toni Jo go out her own door,
when the time came? Most who knew her well
expected her to be strong. Fr. Richard describes
her as fatalistic. She knew all along that she was
going to be put to death.

The week before she was scheduled to die,
Toni Jo did one last favor for Finnon Burks. She
signed a notarized statement, through her attor-
ney, in which she said: “I, Annie Beatrice Henry,
fired the shot that killed J.C. Calloway. It is my
hope that Finnon Burks will not have to suffer
the death penalty.”

She had said in an interview:

“I don’t even think of harming Burks
any more. He blamed everything on me,
Burks did. But now we're both going to
die. I wish he didn’t have to go. His
mother is alive and mine isn’t. And the
Bible says—an eye for an eye; it doesn’t
say two eyes for an eye.”

A crowd had gathered around the courthouse

in Lake Charles on Saturday morning, Novem-
ber 28, 1942. The newspaper account says 200

The Angolite-May/June 1995

to 300 people. Fr. Richard remembers it as much
larger, perhaps 2,000 to 3,000. When he went
up to her cell on the second floor, Toni Jo was
drinking coffee. She asked him if he wanted
some, and poured him acup. He was so nervous
he couldn’t lift it to his lips.

When the jailers came in to cut her hair, for
the mask and electrodes, Toni Jo was upset. She
said, “Look, I’ve been condemned to execution,
not to mutilation.” Fr. Richard had known how
proud she was of her hair. He had stopped on
the way to the courthouse that day and bought
her a bright-colored handkerchief— red, white
and green—for her to tie over her shaved head.
She wore a plain black dress and black pumps.

The barber, Athan Coe, said when he left her.
cell: “Why, she’s a pretty good fellow. She said
hello and that she remembered me as being called
on the jury at her trial.” Coe had been on the
jury panel for the second and third trials but had
not served on either jury. He must have been a
popular fellow himself: he was later invited back
to be a witness at Finnon Burks’s execution.

The night before, unable to sleep, Toni Jo had
sat up all night. She wrote Cowboy a final letter.
She refused a final meal. She gave her little
black-and-white dog to jailer Gibbs Duhon, with
the request that he give the dog to her niece in
Shreveport. She told the jailer she was a little
afraid. Everyone else found her remarkably calm.

The execution was scheduled for noon on
Saturday. At 11:43 a.m. Deputy Sheriff Kinney
Reid read Toni Jo the death warrant. She spent
a last few minutes alone with Fr. Richard. Ex-
actly at twelve, the big generators on the truck
outside were turned on; at the same instant the
bells of the nearby church began ringing.

At 12:05 p.m., the generators humming louder
below, Toni Jo left her cell, accompanied by Fr.
Richard and deputy Henry Reid Jr., the sheriff's
son. Fr. Richard remembers the newspaper photo
taken that day and printed the day she was bur-
ied—Toni Jo holding onto his hand for support
as they walked down the steps to the first floor
of the jail, where the portable electric chair had
been set up. He said he tried to step back into
the crowd, but she asked him to step forward with
her.

coat, previously seized at George Dal-
leo’s home, be handed to the husky lad
on the platform.

Then he commanded:

“Put your hat and coat on and lift
your hat and wave it.”

Puzzled, Dalleo obeyed.

“Shout ‘Hey!’” the Chief directed.

“Hey!” Dalleo repeated, swinging
his gray hat.

From the dimness, suddenly Jones’
excited voice rose.

“That’s him! I recognize him now!
That’s exactly how he acted and sound-
ed shen he flagged Charles Rabito’s
car!’ ;

But the investigators were aware
that, with only the identification by
the changeable witness, they couldn’t
build up a case against the suspect.
A conviction hardly could be obtained;
defense attorneys would harp upon the
flimsiness and uncertainty of the testi-
mony. ;

More corroborating evidence had to
be found. But how? Where? Noth-
ing was in the records that would put
George Dalleo on the scene of the
murder. And nothing had been found
which would tie him up with the gun
found on the bank of the canal—the
gun that had been stolen from him
long before the killing.’

The identity of the second bandit
also was still a total mystery, as was
the cache of the loot.

Under Grosch’s orders detectives
went buzzing through the city all day.
Nothing occurred which was worth
while until six o’clock in the evening,
when Detectives Leininger and Kuep-
ferle barged back into the Chief’s of-
fice at Headquarters. Between them
marched a tall, large, flashily dressed
fellow of the wrestler type. His broad
face displayed an arrogant sneer.

Grosch looked up from the letters
he had been signing. For a second he
stared sharply at the prisoner.

“John Capaci, huh? In _ trouble
again?” He turned to the officers.
“What’s he done now?” :

This was their story:

All day they had been combing
tenderloin hangouts, listening for gos-
sip as Grosch had directed. When
someone remarked that George Dalleo
had been with Capaci in a dive on the

day preceding the murder, they became
curious.

Cautiously, they made inquiries
about Capaci, known to them as one
of those permanently “suspicious char-
acters.” They learned that Capaci had
been bragging about a‘“job” he just
had pulled.

Plugging on tirelessly, the clever de-
tectives heard rumors that Capaci had
been hard up for money lately. Other
inquiries revealed that on the previous
night he suddenly was flaunting a large
roll, obviously - trying to impress a
couple of punks in an ill-famed dive
of the French Market district.

If the rumor of the job Capaci was
supposed to have pulled was true, he
must have done it during the day
Rabito was murdered. The officers de-
cided to get Capaci. Finally they man-
aged to collar him as he boisterously
sauntered out of a cocktail lounge on
Canal Street.

“We frisked him,” Detective Kuep-
ferle reported, not concealing his ela-
tion. “And this is what we found.”
He chucked a heavy stack of green-
backs on Grosch’s desk. “A thousand
smackers, Chief.”

Malone curiously stuck his head
through the door. Grosch called him
in, offered Capaci a chair.

“You didn’t bump off Rabito by any
chance?” Grosch asked.

“Never heard of that guy.” Capaci’s
tone was confident.

“Where does all that dough come
from?”

“Saved it up, Brother, penny by

“And you were broke day before
yesterday—and you never heard of
Rabito!”

“You heard me, Copper.” Capaci
made a derisive grimace.

A moment of silence dragged by.
Then Grosch shot out his arm toward
the phone. Crisply he requested the
switchboard operator to connect him
with the victim’s brother, John Rabito,
at the Mize Grocery.

When John Rabito responded, Grosch
fired question after question over the

“Know John Capaci? .. . How about
your brother? . . . Did he know him?
e « »« When was that?”

He put the receiver down with a
bang. A smile spread over his face.
Calmly he said:

“Things don’t look so good for you,
Capaci, this time. Just heard that once
when you were mixed up with a
speakeasy you were a customer of the
Mize Grocery. John Rabito claims he
saw you talking to his brother on sev-
eral occasions.”

Capaci jumped, eyes flaring.

“I told you I don’t know that guy.
Maybe I talked to him in his office but
I didn’t know his name then.”

Grosch stared ahead refiectively for
a moment, then jerked his head in the
direction of Detectives Leininger and
Kuepferle.

“Get me George Dalleo,” he said. A
characteristic eye-twinkle told the men
that their chief hada cagy trick up his
sleeve.

When the husky prisoner marched in
heavily, flanked by detectives, his face
was dark and lumpy, his eyes hostile.
He glowered at Grosch but didn’t
notice Capaci seated inconspicuously
in the corner.

“Want you to meet a pal, Dalleo,”
Grosch said teasingly, waving his hand
in the direction of the other suspect.

HIEF GROSCH was making an ex-

periment in psychology. Dalleo
didn’t know how he had been con-
nected with the gun. If he suspected
Capaci, what would he do?

Dalleo slowly turned his bull-like
head. Recognizing Capaci, he paled.
A look of rage sprang into his face.
His whole massive body shaking, he
snarled:

“You turned me in, you yellow rat!
You think I’m going to take the rap?”
He whirled to Grosch, bellowed hys-
terically, “It’s him! He bumped Rabito
off!”

His voice was a hoarse, savage roar.

Capaci’s swarthy jaw twitched. He
forced a grin. Grosch and Malone ex-
changed elated glances.

“Take Capaci out,’’ Grosch ordered.

“J want to talk to Dalleo alone.”
_ Capaci was hustled out. Grosch
turned to Dalleo, whose face was pasty
and quivering. The Chief’s voice was
soft no longer. It carried a snap and
a snarl.

“You know you’re lying. Capaci was
in on it, but you did the killing. You
were the guy in the gray suit with the
rubber gloves. Jones put the finger
on you. The youngster saw you take
Rabito out of the car and shoot him.
The kid said the murderer wore a gray

suit. I’ve got enough evidence to get .

a conviction. If you’re smart, you’l
play ball.”

Dalleo was biting his lips, nervously
fidgeting in his chair. He hesitated
before he spoke:

“Capaci figured it out.”

“But you did it!”

“Yes.”

He confessed in detail how the crime
had been plotted and executed, con-
firming the deductions the’ detectives
shrewdly had made in the course of
the tortuous investigation.

Capaci, who knew Rabito, already
had hitched a ride in the Rabito car
by the time they were hailed by Dalleo.
Capaci asked Rabito to stop his car
and give Dalleo a lift. Once both
killers were in the car, they forced
Rabito to drive to the outskirts of the
city where they killed him.

Dalleo admitted that, racing from the
scene of the crime, Capaci and he ac-

cidentally met his brother, Stephen’

Dalleo, on Dublin Street. Jumping out
of the getaway car, Capaci hailed a
taxicab. George got into the car of
this brother, who was completely un-
aware of the frightful tragedy of the
past hour. ‘

Capaci, confronted with his accom-
plice’s complete confession, made no
effort to deny his role in the slaying.
He explained that he had taken Dal-
leo’s share of the loot to his parents’
home, where, incidentally, it was found
hidden in a grate later in the day. —

A grim-faced Jefferson Parish jury
found Dalleo guilty of murder after
deliberating only a few minutes on the
sweltering Spring afternoon of April
22, 1933. Capaci was convicted on
April 8. The death penalty was man-
datory in both cases. The slayers were
executed on May 18 in the following
year. 3

The names Dolly Martini, Fred
Heckert, Jess Fence and Ace Berg are
fictitious to protect innocent persons.

ead It First in

"Your Jallopy—or You Get the Rack" (Continued from Page 31) ogpiciai DETECTIVE STORIES

stolen cars that would match the stick-
up flurries.

I told the robbery detail that one
strong possibility was that the gang
was an out-of-town mob which stole
its getaway cars in other cities,
swooped into Detroit for a quickie, then
beat it back out of town and abandoned
the car where they stole it.

I put a couple of men on that case
and told them to go to work. I myself
had to concentrate on the murder of
Dorsey Bowman.

Ulnick and O’Brien weren’t getting
far. They and the other men swamped

more till I’d sifted their reports and
Bowman’s documents and picked out
a new lead for them.

So-I called them in and told them
about Loyst.

“Take a run out to Loyst’s and see
what you can pick up. He lives at
2402 Dearing.”

Mrs. Loyst was half crazy with fright
and the two detectives could see that
she hadn’t slept for days.

O’Brien said:

“Now tr —can’t you think of
any reason 1e might have to be
gone for a ys?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t
know?”
_ She said she didn’t know whether
they’d sold it because that was where

her husband had been going the day .

he disappeared—to keep an appoint-
ment with a man who had promised to
buy Loyst’s car. <4
“And nobody’s seen him since?”
“No. Nobody. Nobody at all.”
Ulnick asked her, “Did you ever
hear of Dorsey Bowman?”
She frowned and shook her head.
“Who is he?”

‘owt

- Ulnick and O’Brien stared at each
other. Kasap was tall, our records
showed.

They got the license number of her
husband’s car and left, after promising
to phone if anything turned up and
telling her not to worry.

But when I heard their story, I was
afraid that Mrs. Loyst had plenty to
worry about. Had her husband been
murdered, too? Like Bowman, had he
been tortured horribly, then put to
death? Would his body ever be found?
Or his killers?

Suddenly I wondered if the murder

Wess nd the) diéannenarance

a oa

asked m: to

The aw
time anc =
“We've <o1


you’re coming with us to Headquar-
ters. Put on your hat and coat and
don’t take all night.”

Fence was finger-printed and
mugged. Malone and his fellow officers
proceeded to put the screws on him.

“We don’t want to pin anything on
you,” Malone barked. “All we want
to know for the present is if this is
your gun.”

He shoved the Colt automatic with
the broken handle down on the desk.

The suspect grabbed it, turned it
around, fingered the broken side.

“T seen that rod before, but I lent
it to a pal of mine and he sold it.”

The officers glanced sharply at each
other. The story of this gun was grow-
ing into a veritable Odyssey.

Where else, the officers asked them-
selves anxiously, would the fantastic
trail of the death-weapon lead them?
And if Fence were lying about the
disposition of the weapon, would they
be able to prove anything against him?

If he spoke the truth, would they be
able finally to trace the gun to the
murderer?

Sulking and grimacing, Fence told a
rambling, confused story.

He and his chum, Ace Berg, had
been in trouble several months before
in a “drug store,” he said. Berg had
borrowed the gun and during the
brawl somebody blasted out the elec-
tric lights, several shots were fired into
the crowd and a man was hurt.

“I told Berg he was a fool to
have that gun around,” Fence contin-
ued. . “So we took it to Salvadore Dal-
leo’s lottery shop on St. Thomas Street
and got rid of the rod for two dollars.”

Salvadore Dalleo?

One of the detectives present re-
membered that Dalleo had been ques-
tioned by police several times.

It was almost three-thirty that morn-
ing before Dalleo could be picked up
at his house. He was a pimply-faced
youth with curly hair and darting eyes.

{| ser in ignorance of Fence’s arrest
and statement, he was brought be-
fore the exhausted and pale-faced Ma-
lone. Already the new dawn was
shimmering over the roofs of New
Orleans.

Dalleo wore a hundred-dollar suit.
His tie was of imported French silk.
The caps of his shoes were shiny
mirrors.

“Glad to cooperate with you fel-
lows,” he said pompously, throwing
his chest out. “Just ask me the ques-
tions.”

The officers did just that, hammering
at the man for nearly an hour.

Yes, he had bought the gun, Dalleo
admitted. The story of Berg and
Fence was absolutely correct. But he
hadn’t kept the gun. He’d sold it to
his brother George for two dollars
several months before.

By now the officers were nearly
dizzy. The Odyssey of the gun was
turning into an unfathomable chase.

George Dalleo was routed out of bed.
Sullen, sleepy-eyed, he followed the
detectives to Headquarters.

There he sat squat in his chair, a
big, lumbering man of 25. He an-
swered all questions surlily.

He admitted he’d bought the gun.

“And you probably sold it, like the
others,” Malone said with a snarl.

The big man said simply:

“No, I lost it. One day I left it in
my car and when I came back the rod
was gone. Maybe you coppers could
do something about that.” ;

Malone rubbed his sleepy eyes, re-
flected for a moment, then reached for
the phone. :

“Give me Grosch’s residence,” he
snapped when the phone sergeant an-
swered. Then, a moment later, “Chief,
I wish you’d come over right away.”

“Okay,” the Chief promised, “as soon
as I get dressed.”

It was then seven a. m., and the
awakening city was still shrouded in
a Wintry semi-gloom.

The call completed, Captain Malone
summoned Detectives Lannes and Ar-
nold. Briefly, he informed them of
George Dalleo’s address.

“Give the place a once-over,” he
ontecns them, “And don’t miss a

ok,

oD—?

Grosch arrived, hurrying briskly
into his office with a cheery smile for
everyone. He looked fresh in his light
gray suit, customary red rose in his
buttonhole.

When Dalleo was brought in, Grosch
faced him with a bland smile. Suavity,
he had learned in years of service, was
an excellent psychological weapon.
Often he shot sharp words in a soft,
persuasive voice.

“Look here, George,’ he said. “I
want you to come clean. If you help
me, I’ll help you. I already gave an
order that all suspects who were ar-
rested during the night be released.
I’ll turn you loose as soon as you can
convince me that you’re innocent.”

Grosch went on:

“You see, there’s something screwy
about the gun you said you lost or
which was stolen from you—”

Dalleo seemed more at ease now.

“Okay, Chief,” he said. “I’m play-
ing it your way. See, I’ve got an alibi.
And it’s good.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Grosch said
cordially, leaning back in his chair.

Dalleo opened his mouth, but made
no sound as a sudden stir outside

“What was playing when you en-
tered the theater?”

A smirking grin flitted over Dalleo’s
brutal face. i

“A blonde was just starting a
dance.”

A phone call instantly was put
through to the management of the
Orpheum and the time table checked.

The stage manager, Edward Mather,
informed the police that at 1:20 p. m.
sharp the act of Miss Dorothy Ryan
was on. She was the blond dancer
Dalleo had mentioned.

GROSCH groped for a pack of ciga-
rettes, offered one to Dalleo and
lit one himself.

“I’m glad you told the truth,” he re-
marked. “But I have to talk to your
brother and that other fellow, Frank
—Frank Pate, isn’t it?”

Frank Pate had to be hauled from
his job as a paper-hanger. He was
obviously iil at ease, being stared at
and quizzed by a dozen detectives.

“T don’t wanna get mixed up with
the Dalleo brothers,” he said. “They
got a black name, see? I didn’t want
to go to the show but they talked me

John Capaci, seated left, and George Dalleo, seated right,
told Chief John J. Grosch why they had taken a ride in an
automobile belonging to a man murdered in a holdup

seemed to catch his attention. The
next moment the door burst open and
in barged Detective Lannes and De-

. tective Arnold, back from a search of

George Dalleo’s apartment.

Grosch looked up.

“Find anything, Boys?” :

“Nothing,” Lannes rasped. “Nothing
but this.”

Out of his pocket he pulled a pair of
rubber gloves.

A short, triumphant grin flashed
across the Chief’s face as he instantly
realized the possible importance of the
discovery.

The bandit in the gray hat and coat
who had hailed Rabito on his ride to

-doom had worn rubber gloves.

Was George Dalleo the murderer?

“Your alibi had better be good,”
Grosch said tauntingly. “What do you
need rubber gloves for?”

“J found them in the drawer when
I moved into the house,” Dalleo re-
torted angrily.

Grosch’s voice now became gruff.

“Come on, George. I’m listening.
What’s your alibi?”

“Yesterday at twelve noon my
brother, Stephen, came to the house.
He said he wanted to go to the Or-
pheum Theater to see a movie. I had
nothing better to do, so I said, ‘Okay,
let’s go.’ On the way to the Orpheum
we picked up a pal of ours, Frank Pate.
You can ask him.”

The Chief reflected quickly.

into it. We never been such hot friends
and I couldn’t figure why George in-
sisted that I go to the movies with him.
I told them I didn’t have any money,
but George says, ‘Don’t worry. I’m full
of dough. I’m always ready to treat
a friend!’”

It took another hour to locate gaunt,
swarthy Stephen Dalleo. When he
was brought in, he was eager to assist
everybody and to discuss everything.

“You got the wrong guy,” he told
Grosch ingratiatingly. “My brother
George had less to do. with that mur-
der than a new-born babe. He wouldn’t
have harmed Rabito. See, Rabito and
I were pals, and my brother wouldn’t
hurt a friend of mine.” .

Grosch chuckled.

“So you were pals. I always figured
that Rabito was bumped off by a good
friend.”

“Don’t get me wrong, don’t get me
wrong.” Stephen Dalleo chattered on
volubly. “I wouldn’t hurt Rabito.
Naah. See, he promised to get me a
job at fifty bucks a week and I was
supposed to start tomorrow. You can
find out about it if you want. And I
only hope you'll get the guy who killed
my pal and hang him.”

Questioned about the visit to his
brother’s house and the afternoon spent
at the Orpheum Theater, Stephen
Dalleo confirmed the statements made
by George Dalleo and Frank Pate.

Tht did the so-called allbl moan

much? Grosch quickly did a
figuring.

The victim had started out on

fateful last ride at 12:10. At
Herbert Jones had seen the bi
wearing rubber gloves hail Rabito’
with hat waving and noisy shouts.
12:40 a witness heard the shot
Bridgedale and Rabito gasped his
breath. At 1:10 Stephen and Ge
Dalleo picked up Frank Pate to ;
the movies.
. Thirty minutes were sufficient t:
turn from Bridgedale to the city
abandon the getaway car on Di
a and switch to another aut
ile!

But how about the gun which
hurled from a speeding car to the
of the River Canal? The first
of the discovery of the pistol
reached the Detective Bureau at
about ten to twelve minutes afte
youngsters had seen the auto:
whirling from the dark automobil
cupied by three men. The thing
just barely possible!

Frank Pate was summoned agai

“Did you drive directly to the
pheum from where they picked
up?” Grosch asked him.

“No, we drove around for a w)
Pate looked bewildered and unh:
“I told you before I didn’t wanr
to the show with those fellows <
told. them how I was broke. S
drove around and argued until I
in,

“Which streets did you
through? Did you go along the Ca

Pate explained that he’d paid
attention to the changing street ;
rama and therefore couldn’t rec:
they had passed by the section o
River Canal where the gun wa
covered,

“You all were riding in the
seat?” ‘1

“Yes, I sat in the middle bet
Stephen and George. Stephen
driving. It was his car.

“So George could have th
something out of the car withou’
noticing anything?”

The witness shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

But all this was merely dedi
and theory, entirely unsubstantiat
tangible evidence.

Chief Grosch, his usual jovial h
gone, was grim and tense by this
He was prodded by an alarming
ing that this case was beginning t
through his fingers. All the
which had developed had blown
his face. Sure, the Dalleos wer:
a good bet, but irrefutable evi:
was lacking and slowly the case a;
them was growing weaker as th
vestigation progressed.

Then the detectives returned f1
search of Stephen Dalleo’s hous
reported that they found nothin
criminating—no substantial amo
money to represent a part or
of the loot. Suspicions about St:
Dalleo were fading rapidly. The
to’ be dismissed entirely when i
veloped from inquiries among nr
bors that Stephen had been
around’ his brother’s house s}
after twelve o’clock noon.

One witness as yet hadn’t
drawn into the picture—Herbert .
the filling-station attendant whi
had a glimpse of the man wit
rubber gloves.

OW, as almost all leads had px
out, the Chief gave orders t
rade George Dalleo in the line-up.
lone, who had rushed home for a
rest, was again at his superior’s €
Herbert Jones was ordered to n
inconspicuously with the dete
who, smoking and chattering, crc
in the half-dark room with the
zlingly lit stage.

No sign of recognition came
Jones when George Dalleo finally
with blinking eyes, sullen and cl
on the light-flooded stage.

Grosch’s voice suddenly cut th
the throbbing stillness.

“Mr. Jones, is this the man?”

“No!” Jones said. “That’s not

A murmur of confused voices
out. Grosch quickly snapped a
mand to a detective that a jray di


2,300 and Murder

they had been chasing after the
nable killer they had stumbled
the trail of the victim. The poor
1 wife of Charles Rabito, slumped
- seat, crying pitifully, now could
pful only in definitely establish-
e dead man’s identity.

even that wasn’t necessary any

n Captain Malone pulled up be-
the rambling courthouse that
; New Orleans Police Headquar-
e bumped into Chief Grosch who
as headed for his car.

iat’s up, Johnny?” the Captain

sch stopped in his tracks and
to the car.

it had a call,” he said. “A gun
near the Mississippi Canal.”
one’s brows puckered.

2 murder weapon?”

nono. Maybe.”

,ONE pushed the car-door open
ad leaped to the pavement.
‘at about Rabito?” he eagerly

2 Mize Grocery called to report
tabito hadn’t returned from the
vhere he had been’sent to deposit
twenty-three hundred dollars.”
d you had an idea he might be
stim of the Bridgedale murder?”
tht. Had the manager come over
nd sent him to the morgue. He
ied the body.” Grosch waved
nd. “See you later, Al. Have to

f Grosch was pricked with doubt
acertainty.
7 had nobody seen this man be-
dnaped as he drove his own car
busiest hour of the day on the
t thoroughfare of the city? Was
» acquainted with his abductors?
e invited them into his car? But
thoughts and other dozens of
‘, enraging questions were only
ckground of the perplexing case.
; not long after the discovery of
in that the death car—the dark
Studebaker sedan with license
140-253—-was found. Officers
to work on it immediately with

ing powder and magnifying

3, but found—nothing.

did they later discover any
-prints on the gun which Grosch,
ially inspected. The gun was a
lt automatic with a piece broken
the right-side handle.
was it really the murder weapon
osch hoped? Or only a false,
» planted, clew?

1:30, approximately one hour
the murder, Patrick Hodges, a
y, pink-faced youngster, had
ed a dark car, occupied by three
‘ace beside the River Canal. Sud-

a small, compact object was
| out of the window over the
fence. Curious, the youngster
ed to the spot and found the gun,
, by a hair’s width, had missed
nal and was resting precariously
» sloping shore. Afraid to touch
stol, he called a traffic patrolman,
instantly notified the Detective

u.
sch took the gun back to Head-

2Frs,

llistics will have to decide the
he told Malone.

one’s face clouded glumly.

ery inch of ground has been

ied for the slugs that killed Ra-
a dice. So how will ballis-

alp? ”

sch gave a short laugh.

ok here. The bullet that struck
» in the heart probably is lost

vhere in the brush and we’d have

th time finding it. But the second

‘emember, was fired when Rabito

ying on the ground. The bullet
through his head and probably
itself straight down into the soft
We have to dig straight down
neath the spot where Rabito’s

lay—and we'll find the slug. Do

et me?”

orth trying it, Chief.” Malone

led. “I'll get a couple of boys to
right away. But there’s still

another question that’s been bothering
me: Two men committed the murder,
but three were seen in the car from
which the gun was thrown away.”

The Chief shrugged.

“One thing at a time, Al. Let’s wait
and see if we can get anywhere with
the ballistics examination. Send a
couple of men out to Bridgedale, Oh!
—we can do two things. Have the
pawn-shop detail check its records to
see if this ever was hocked.”

Meanwhile, officers working in pairs
were scouting the streets through
which the victim might have been
driven to his doom. Other officers
were quizzing the men working for the
Mize Grocery. A special detail was
assigned to investigate the firm’s busi-
ness transactions, since inquiries had
revealed the baffling fact that during
the previous afternoon five customers
from various Mississippi towns had

J. Fred Welsh: He alone lived to
tell of a rejected suitor’s dyna-
mite blast that snuffed out four
lives. This story is on Page 26

placed large orders and paid in cash.
Chief Grosch and his aids jumped
quickly to the conclusion that only
someone who was well aware of the
large cash deposits would have planned
the brutal crime.

Or was the murder prompted by
another, more sinister, motive, the
robbery being used as a ruse only to
send the police chasing down the
wrong track?

T= first detectives to report from
their assignments were Dillman and

Sbisa. They found a man named Her- .

bert Jones working for a filling-station
a block from the Mize Grocery Store.
Jones, the officers told Grosch, had
known the victim for several years.
Shortly after the noon hour he had
observed an athletic young’ fellow in
a gray suit and gray hat, standing on
the sidewalk, peering intently at the
passing cars.

“There was something: funny about
that guy,” Jones told Dillman and
Sbisa. “He was dressed in flashy
clothes—but he wore rubber gloves.”

“Rubber gloves!”

“Yeah. And then when Rabito came
by in his car this man with the rubber
gloves waved his hat and yelled, ‘Hey!’
Rabito stopped and let him in the car.
Then they all three drove away in the
direction of downtown.”

“What three?” Sbisa questioned.

“Well, Rabito already had one pas-
senger when the man with the rubber
gloves hailed the car.”

To the baffled officers all this could
have but one qe, « Rabito had
are the men who blasted out his

e.

(Continued from Page 21)

But why had one of them worn
rubber gloves?

Grosch, informed of the develop-
ments, instructed his men to ask mem-
bers of the family, coworkers and any-

one else they could question about who .

Rabito’s friends were.

The gist of all the answers was the
same. Rabito didn’t have any friends
in the usual sense of the word. Though
he was well liked, he never became
chummy with anybody. As his brother
John, who also was employed by the
grocery firm, put it:

“He was devoted to his wife and
children. He never left home, except
once in a great while to attend a box-
ing-match.”

Then, around five o’clock that after-
noon, news of a sensational discovery
exploded at Headquarters.

Captain James Dimitri of the pawn-
shop detail, checking his records as
directed by Chief Grosch, found that
the gun with the broken handle had
been pawned on June 15, 1931—a year
and a half before—in a downtown
hock-shop.

“Get down to that shop right now,”
Grosch directed two detectives.

The manager readily opened up old
record-books,

“The gun was pawned by Dolly
Martini and redeemed on October 13.”

From the pawnbroker’s_ records,
Dolly Martini’s address was learned
and detectives hurried there only to
learn that Dolly had moved and that
she was a street-walker, whereabouts
unknown.

The detectives telephoned Grosch to
tell him of their setback.

As Grosch replaced the receiver
after getting their report, Malone
stomped in, grinning elatedly. :

“Say, Boss, that was smart thinking,”
he said. “We found the bullet exactly
where you said. It was buried four
feet in the ground. And here’s the
ballistics report.”

He placed a typewritten sheet before
Grosch, who instantly plunged into a
careful study of it. The report, signed
by Captain Maurice B. O’Neil, a crack
man in scientific crime detection, stated
that when examined under a compari-
son microscope the land and groove-
marks, twist of rifling and other minute
characteristics of the murder-bullet
and a test-bullet fired from the re-
ye alga gun corresponded in every de-

ail.

The officers had the murder weapon!

Now, how could they trace it to the
murderers? It seemed a hopeless task.
And even if they were capable of back-
tracking the trail of the death-gun,
would it bé possible to prove that its
owner was actually the murderer of
Charles Rabito?

“Get the vice squad on the trail of
Dolly Martini,” Grosch ordered.

And with surprising speed, that effi-
cient squad brought Dolly Martini in
from the streets. She had been located
in a smoky dive near the French
Market.

She stood before Grosch’s desk,
rather tall, slender of build. Her eyes,
pools of phosphorescent darkness,
moved restlessly, anxiously. She was
a ravishingly pretty girl, although
wrinkles from dissipation and a life of
vice were beginning to appear on her
heavily painted face. .

“Sit down,” Grosch said absently.
“Ever hear of a man named Rabito?”

“No.” She nervously bit her full,
carmined lips.

“Do you own a gun?”

“N-no.”

“T mean this one,” Grosch said stern-
ly, pulling the weapon out of the desk-
drawer. “This one with a broken
handle.”

The girl’s eyes flashed.

“Oh, yes, I forgot all about it.”

She recounted in a low voice that a
man once had given her the Colt pistol.
“T had no use for it. So I pawned it.”

“But you redeemed it a few months
later?”

The girl paused. Breathlessly the
officers were waiting for her answer.

“Well!” Grosch snapped, tapping his

ee ee Re ee ne ee ee ee |

for "Rubber Gloves"

Read It First in
OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES

fingers impatiently on his mahogany
desk. “Go ahead!”

“Okay. I didn’t want to get him into
any trouble—I’m sure he had nothing
to do with anything against the law—”

“His name?” Grosch’s pencil was
poised above a note pad.

“Fred Heckert.”

Twenty minutes later, Detectives
Mock and Klemmer, who had been dis-
patched hurriedly to bring Heckert in,
rang in vain at his door on the second
floor of a tenement building. The jani-
tor’s rotund wife came panting up the
stairs to see what all the commotion
in the murky hallway was about.

“Mr. Heckert isn’t in,” she said. “I
met him on the staircase about half an
hour ago. He said he’d be back soon.”

Detective Mock glanced at his wrist-
watch. It was 7:10 p. m.

“Let’s wait,” he said.

A surprised and frightened Heckert
faced the impatiently waiting officers
at midnight.

“What do you want? I’ve got noth-
ing. I’m a poor man.”

“This isn’t a stickup, Buddy,” Klem-
mer said. ‘“We’re the law. You're
coming to Headquarters with us.”

Captain Malone was in charge of the
probe during the night.

“What do you know about this gun?”
he snapped at the little man.

Heckert darted a frightened, nervous
glance at the pistol on Malone’s desk.

“T’ye seen the gun before,” he said
quickly. “Why? What’s the trouble?”

“Nothing. Just tell us what you
know.”

Heckert was fumbling with his hat.

“A girl I know owed me some money
—Dolly Martini. She couldn’t pay me
back. So she gave me a pawn-shop
ticket and asked me to redeem the gun
and sell it.”

“And did you sell it?”

“No.”

ae ere explained that he had
- | been in possession of the automatic
a few days when a friend of his asked
if he could borrow it. The friend

“never had returned the gun.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Jess Fence,” Heckert answered,
after scowling and hesitating.

Detective William P. Vandervoort,

who had been listening to the quiz,

stepped nearer, arching his brows.

“Fence?” he repeated. “I know that
bird. He was mixed up in a speak-
easy shooting some months + pl

“We'll have to hold you until we find
Fence,” Malone grimly announced to
his suspect. ‘

The night was heavy with darkness,
the streets almost deserted, when Van-
dervoort, accompanied by Detectives
Klemmer and Leininger, sped toward
Fence’s home on Sixth Street.

The officers pulled up silently before
the house. Lights burning inside
seeped through cracks in the closed
shutters. Stealthily the men stalked
up. Leininger took position in the
back yard to cut off any possible way
of escape. Vandervoort and Klemmer
crashed through the front door with-
out preliminaries,

With a scream, a blonde who had
been sitting on Fence’s lap jumped up
and scowled at the officers.

Dark and hostile, Fence sat slouched
at a table on which a deck of cards
lay spread out fan-shape. His right
hand started gropingly for his bulging
rear trousers-pocket.

“Cut that!” Vandervoort shouted.
He pounced upon the brutal-faced man
and with a quick jerk wrenched his
wrist and sent a gun clattering to the
floor.

Fence’s face writhed in a smirk.

“Didn’t recognize you, Copper.
What’s up?” i

Vandervoort pointed to the blonde.

“Who’s that babe?”

“Can’t you see, Copper, she was tell-
ing my fortune. She said I was in for
a long trip. Besides, she’s not a babe,
she’s a lady.”

“She’s right about that trip,” Van-
dervoort retorted sarcastically. “May-
be it will be your last one. Right now

op—

7), SOUTHERN 792

CARRIERE, Helaire, hanged Louisiana State Prison (St. Landry) on Oct, 19, 1917.

"Opelousas, LA, July 20, 1916-Thirty picked men, with rifles, tonight were guarding

a canebrake 18 miles southwest of here, in which Helaire Carriere, who Sunday night...
shot and killed Marion L. Swords, sheriff of St, Landry Parish, was known to be
hiding, About 20 other men at dark started into the canebrake with the intention of.
driving the fugitive out of his hiding place and within ragge of the outer guard,

The canebrake is, dense and almost impassible, and the few hiden trails are said to be
well known to Carriere, Carriere today escaped from a woods near Eunice and doubled
on his; tracks, entering the canebrake with, a. supply of food which he obtained from, .
a family at the point of his rifle," NEWS, Galveston, TX, July 21, 10.6 (9/5.)

"Lake Charles, Las, Aug. 17, 1916-Helaire Carriere, hunted for the past month on a
charge of causing the déath of Marion Swords, Sheriff of St. Landry,Parish, lies in the
parish jail here tonight, dying from wounds received when he was captured at an
abandoned sawmill near Basile, Evangeline Parish, at 2 o'clock this morning, Physi-
cians think that his death will result in a,.day or two at most, and he is visibly
weakening, .Many officers from St,. Landry and adjacent,parishes arrived today to

see him, but his conditionwas such that the judge and physician forbade the admiss-
ion of anyone to the jail, Rev, Father Cramers of the Catholic Church gave him the
last sacraments this afternoon after he had sent for the priest, desiring to be re-
conciled to the church, and District Attorney Edwards talked with him earlier but no
others were admitted, Carriere expressed regret over the sheriff's death, and said
it would not have occurred had Swords brought white men instead of negroes to assist
in his capture, The capute of Carriere took place under dramatic circumstances,
Sheriff Reid, with Deputies Cauthens, Harmon and Richardson of Calcasieu, Oscar Tate
and ex-Sheriff Y, 0, Reed of Allen, having been informed that he made the old mill
his headquarters, guarded the approaches to it for ) hours before Carriere appeared
and mounted the platform of the old mill, As he emerged from the shadows into the
moonlight Sheriff Reid identified him as Carriere from the clothing he wore and from
the Winchester which he was carrying. The first intimtion that Carriere had of the
presence of the posse was when Sheriff Reid called to him to surrender, Hb whirled
about facing the woods and peered into the shadows, Sheriff Reid could hear him cock
his gun, and it was still cocked when the officers took possession of it later, WHAKK
Unable to see his pursuers, Carriere returned toward the mill and ran for the shelter
of the buildings, Sheriff Reid delayed almost a second too long, Just as the ban-
dit entered the shadow of the shed the sheriff's gun roardd and the load of buckshot
struck Carriere in the rear of his shoulder, He dropped in his tracks and lay silent
on the wooden flooring.The members of the posse gathered in the edge of the woods saw
that the man made no move, and they advanced aautiously with their guns in position,
Carriere was lying on the rough planking, evidently badly wounded and unable to move,
His Winchester was obtained and the posse made him as comfortable as possible,
Carriere was brought here by auto after his wounds had been temporarily dressed, and
taken to the jail and physicians called, It was found that Carriere had been struck
in the back by about 15 buckshot, Fired at a range of )0 or 50 yards, the load had
scattered, so that some of the shots struck Carriere in the XXAAKAXARUAK lee and
others in the neck, while 2 buckshot just grazed the tip of his ear, Two shot entered
is back just below the left shoulder blade and penetrated his lung, These are the
shots that are likely to result fatally. Two other shot entered the left leg, three
struck him on the right side low down in the back, several struck him on the right
shoulder blade and 2 or 3 entered his neck," NEWS, Galveston, TX, 8-18-1916 (8-1)

"Lake Charles, ba,, 8-18-Coroner W, L. Fisher and Dr, R, &, Holcombe, who have been
attending Helaire Carriere at the parish jail, examined him here this morning and de-
clared that he was practically out of danger, Carriere's quick recovery was due to
his excellent physical condition, If complications do not arise within the next
couple of days he will probably get well, Sheriff Reid this afternoon authorized a
denial of the report that Carriere was betrayed to the officers by his brother, 'A
near relative told us of his hiding place,' state the sheriff, XMUKXRAKUKAKKR X

'But Carriere's brother was not responsible in any way.' The total mewards will be
$1,500 of which the man who guided the officers to Carriere's hiding place will re-
ceive $500, At the jail last night Carriere repeated again the story of the killing
of Sheriff Marion Swords. i. maintained that he did not know that the sheriff was af-


en ee ae

TT ee ee

IY +A [SLC

—

clouds were rolling up over the

highway from the vast expanse of
the Gulf of Mexico. The heavy-set,
middle-aged man behind the wheel of
the cautiously-traveling car switched on
the lights as the sky suddenly darkened.
A fine, icy drizzle was beginning to
pepper the windshield and a gusty wind
rose, moaning and whistling in the bare
branches of the trees alongside the road.

It was ugly travel weather on that
night of Feb. 14, 1940.

Presently the coupe was nearing the
drowsy Texas town of Orange close to
the Louisiana border. The driver
relished the thought that he soon would
reach Lake Charles, La., with its cheer-
ful, inviting cafes where he would stop
for a warm, tasty Creole dinner before
setting out on the last leg of his tedious,
day-long trip.

As the car purred softly along the
glazed, black highway, the beams of the
headlights, throwing long lanes of
brightness into the dark, picked out two
shadowy figures standing on the road-
side,

The pair were flagging the approach-
ing car. They were a man and a girl.

I IKE gigantic phantoms, heavy black

The driver could see the girl’s short
skirts flapping wetly above her tanned,
shapely calves.

“Poor kids!” the driver mused.
“T’ll give them a lift in this nasty
weather.”

The man climbed into the car first.
He was slightly-built, had sandy hair
and appeared to be about 25 years old.
The girl’s appearance startled the driver
when she came close enough for him to
see her. Lithe, slender and tall, she had
leaped into the car with the smooth and
effortless movements of a cat. Fer
young body was firm and_ beautifully
shaped. Her full, amorous and yet im-
perious mouth was a séarlet splotch in
her oval face, which was set off against
pitch-black, luminous hair.

Scarlett! That was the word. The
driver understood now. This woman
bore a striking resemblance to motion
picture portraits of Scarlett O’Hara!
There were the same facial character-
istics, the same feline grace of move-

“ment. Most of all, there were the eyes

of this nocturnal hitchhiker. They were
large, expressive and seemed to burn
with the same intensity of purpose, the
inner and seeret driving force which

carried the fictional heroine onward until
she achieved her goal.

There were similiar mannerisms, too,
and something in the behavior of this
girl toward her young male companion.
She appeared contemptuous, almost ob-
livious of the man’s presence.

Instantly the driver of the car felt an
inexplicable uneasiness. He regretted
having stopped for these hikers. He
sensed the cold determination apparent
in this “Scarlett” although she had not
said a word.

‘Tlow far are you going, kids?”
the driver asked. He was uncomfort-
able but tried to shake off the feeling.
Perhaps there was nothing wrong.
Perhaps he was disturbed only by the
girl’s strange likeness to the movie
heroine.

The girl did not bother to reply. The
man hesitated, then mumbled in a thick
voice, “To New Orleans.”

Gears meshed and the engine roared
as the car moved forward.

“Nasty night,” the driver said.

“Nasty night,” the girl drawled tone-
lessly. It was the first time she had
spoken and behind her words there
seemed to be the weird tenseness the

Rivaling a fictional heroine

in ruthless determination a

modern “Scarlett” plunged

police of three states into a
weird murder riddle.

Officers at left are shown removing
the body of the victim after an ex-
haustive search led them to the
haystack at right, scene of murder.


countered Cowboy Henry that day,
and if he had even batted an eye,
death shots would have flamed. He
already had killed one policeman,
and lawmen say that’s two too
many.

Another half hour brought dif-
ferent news. Alvin LaPigue, a Negro
truck driver, reported to officers that.
the prison pick-up had forced him
to stop six miles east of the prison.
The “big man” threatened him with
a long dirk and forced him to turn
over his green International truck
to him and his partner. They con-
tinued along the Houston road, after
jerking the timer-head loose on the
prison truck.

Z. T. Lowy, a hunter, carried La-
Pigue to the nearest telephone, but
could find no trace of the missing
men. .

“That was the scaredest person
I ever saw,” he said. “He told me
that the big man just couldn’t hard-
ly keep from killing him, and that
if he’d had three. trucks the big boy
could have had ’em all.”

But by the time the new descrip-
tion had been.radioed to the city and
county prowl cars, the International
truck had slipped through the cor-
don. It was found next day.in deep
Congress street, a slum neighbor-
hood, with its tank dry.

Then someone, contacted Detec-
tive Chief C. V. (Buster) Kern, one
of the noted young manhunters in
Texas crime history of the day.

“I’m on the turnoff of the Humble
road,” he half whispered into the
telephone. ‘Cowboy Henry’s here,
thumbing a ride East. He’s just two
blocks from where I’m talking.
Hurry!”

CAPTURED!——
Toni Jo knew she was in for a murder rap when
this photo was taken. Left to right, Horace Finnon
Burks, Sheriff Reid, and the “Tiger Woman.”
The news went out, and five radio cars dashed toward
the spot. Kern, in a big police car, was only minutes
behind them. But Cowboy Henry was gone. The roar-
ing cars rolled out the Humble road and checked the
occupants of Eastbound cars for 20 miles. None of them
contained the Cowboy.

Kern, angered, hurried back and picked up the tele- _

phone informer.

“What’s the idea? Why give me the business?” he
snapped. ‘

“Aw, listen, chief!’ the stoolie pleaded. “A guy, a
stranger, gimme five bucks to put the call through. I
thought it was just a rib—and five bucks is five bucks.”

So Chief. Kern returned to the station, and for hours
thereafter Houston was searched to the seams for the
missing convict.

No hangout, no small hotel, even none of the flop
houses went unsearched. ;

By morning, Kern was convinced that Henry was
through the city and gone. He relayed the information
to Beaumont, Orange, and thence to Lake Charles. City
and county prowl cars took up the search again. Harris
County men watched passing cars, eastbound, in the
hope that Henry might turn up after all. But it ended
in failure.

Kern called Sheriff Kinney Reid at Lake Charles to
tell him that thé Cop-killer was headed his way.

“Uh-huh!” the sheriff grunted. “And if he comes,
we'll send him back ten pounds heavier with lead than
he is right now.”

“Watch him, sheriff,’ Kern advised. ‘“He’s sure-
enough bad.”

“We're watching—but you ought to see Toni Jo. She
got the news of the break over her radio, and she’s
jittery. I asked her if he’d hope to spring her, and she
said, ‘No, the damn’ lovely, crazy fool—but maybe he’ll
try.’”

Then a convict at Sugarland, a “screw’s snoop”
(an “ear,” who tells the guards what he sees and hears)
gave the color of reason to Cowboy’s sudden break.

“I know now what Cowboy and Byers were talking

71


THE COWBOY’S CAPTORS——
These officers meant business—and proved it. Left
to right, Scout Car Officer Scimeca; Police Captain
White; Scout Officer Brown, and Capt. B. O. Croits, Jr.

was not a guard but one of the convicts of the prison.

Henry, at the wheel, gave the engine the gun. It
hit the woven wire gate squarely in the center. Bits
of white metal from the car’s radiator cascaded into
the air, but the gates crashed open and the truck slid
through to the winding road that led to the highway.

Now the carbines of the wall guards were roaring.
Holes appeared in the hood. Bits of wood and metal
lifted from the cab. Dust spots appeared in the road
as one guard fired at the tires. But the burly convict
at the wheel roared with laughter and pointed the
nose of the car toward Houston, 25 miles on the
200-mile journey to Toni Jo in her prison cell.

In a matter of moments Captain R. J. (Buck) Flan-
agan, prison farm manager, had the Houston Police on
the telephone.

‘““Escape—and a bad one!” he growled angrily. “Cow-
boy Henry, the cop-killer, and a no-good little punk
named Byers just. crashed the gate in a prison pickup
truck. Henry’s carrying a dirk, maybe a gun. Watch
him; he’s dangerous.”

| een gaviers passed the same word on to Sheriff Neal
Polk, vigilant young Harris county officer. Before a
quarter of an hour had passed, the county road patrol,
was blocking all westbound highways and checking all
cars.

Police in radio cars, motorcycle policemen and prowl
cars with two way radios also rallied to the chase. Odds
were 1000-to-1 against the Cowboy at that moment.

“Kill him if he makes a bad move,” was the official
order, For somewhere Captain Flanagan had discovered
that Cowboy Henry was “on the prod”; that he had
whispered of his willingness to die, if necessary, for a
chance to pull Toni Jo out of the hole she had dug for
herself.

So there were riot guns, .45 pistols, sawed off shot-
guns a-plenty waiting for the burly Henry and his
-weak-chinned pal. Ordinarily Texas officers, when they
feel obliged to shoot, try for a shoulder or knee, prefer-
ring to bring their men in alive. But if they had en-

70

She had been a
“bad one.” But
she loved the
man “who took
the monkey of

. dope off her

: back’’—and she

died dead game.

ON "LAST MILE STAIRS"——

: This photo shows Toni Jo on the way from her

cell to the execution chamber. ‘’Smile, Father,”

. she told the priest, her spiritual adviser.


_ :
——

——
+

‘I'm willing to die—but I want my man

about,” he told Captain Flanagan, “when I sneaked up
on them the other night. Cowboy said, ‘I’ll get that
Hood, or some of his family, and they'll either turn my
girl loose or I’ll turn ’em back gutted and with their
eyes punched out!’ ”

Hood was the name of the judge who had sentenced
Toni Jo. As a result of the convict’s revelation, Chief

_ Kern passed the word on to the Lake Charles authorities.

Immediately, city police and deputy sheriffs rode herd
on Judge Hood and the members of his family. They
were not allowed to leave the house. All approaches
were guarded. A hidden circle of watchers made an
island of the Hood residence. The orders were to shoot
first and ask questions later, if anyone resembling Cow-
boy Henry made a bad move.

The jail was another proscribed area. Tommy-guns
on the roof and the second-floor corner cell windows
covered the approaches. Other vantage points in the
vicinity hid deadly marksmen, all waiting for a furtive
figure to appear in the night gloom.

There was cause for such vigilance. For the Cowboy
was a wraith. Definitely, he had passed through Hous-
ton safely, and probably would be as successful in Beau-
mont—only 60 miles from Toni Jo and Judge Hood.

BEAUMONT police were on the alert. Incoming auto- —

mobiles were scanned, as were buses, even freight
trains entering the yards from Houston’s terminals.

The search continued through the afternoon and night,
with Chief of Police Ross Dickey directing the various
squads.

Finally, well after midnight, Dickey turned the job
over to Night Captain George White and went to get
some rest. .

White, methodical and determined, checked over the
list of police adventurings. Scout Car Officer John Sci-

- meca and Radio Car Officer Clyde Brown were waiting

in the office.

Finally, Captain White jammed his hat down on his
head, took an enlarged photograph of Cowboy Henry
from the files and said, “Come on; we’ll check the flop-
houses and the small hotels.”

Just before daylight they arrived at the Chandler
hotel, a small place ‘opposite the K. C. S. Depot. There
they routed out from her bed a very sleepy and
resentful Mrs. C. D. Chandler.

“We're looking for a fellow,”
Captain White said, showing
her the photograph. “You got
anybody -here like that?”

She looked casually at the
features, stiffened, and changed
color. Then she nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “He regis-
tered as W. H. Haper—and he is
in Room No. 7.”

“Go back to bed,” White told
her. ‘We’ll ’tend to it.”

He looked to the mechanism
of the sawed-off shotgun he car-
ried, grinned as Scimeca and
Brown patted the stocks of the
new .45 calibre Reising sub-
machine guns they carried.

“Don’t mess with him; shoot

GRIM JOURNEY——

to hear the sentence of death.
Foreground, Toni Jo manacled
to sheriff; right, Jailer Duhon,

72

him down if he makes a move,” White directed. ““Scime-
ca, you stand to the right of the door; Brown at the left.
I'll be right in front of the door ready to blast him down
if he comes out fighting.”

Scimeca rapped, thunderously; rapped again.

Dully, a voice: from within said; ‘““‘What’s wanted?”

“You, Cowboy!” Captain White rasped. “Come out
with your hands high.”

There ‘was a pause. White added; “Snap it up, fella;
no fooling.” ‘

“All right,” the voice said.

Then the lock clicked and the door swung open.

White threw the rays of a powerful flashlight into the
eyes of the big convict, blinding him. Scimeca edged
through the door and took up a position where his gun
commanded the entire room. ,

“Got you, Cowboy!” White said. “Where did you
think you were going?”

“To see, Toni Jo—tell her goodbye; then back to
prison,” Henry answered dully.

He wore khaki pants, a shirt too small for him, and a
nondescript coat. Search proved that he was unarmed,
without funds except for 60 cents in small change. But
there were three sets of automobile keys in the coat
pocket—all different.

Early next day, these keys were matched with the
ignition locks of three cars in parking lots. Then Henry
admitted taking the keys to make sure that he would
have at least one auto for the final 60-mile dash to
Lake Charles. Except to reveal that he and Byers had
parted in Houston, Henry refused to discuss the escape
or his plans.

THE radio carried the announcement of his capture

to Toni Jo’s cell in the Calcashieu Parish jail. Sleep-
less, she had been huddled over the tiny instrument
throughout the day and night. Breathlessly she listened
to the newscast, which ended with, “Officers are on the
way to take Henry back tothe Central Prison at Hunts-
ville.”

“Did you hear that, Toni Jo?” the night jailer called
from the downstairs office.

“Yes—and thank God!” Toni Jo said almost devoutly.
“I know now there is a God—for I prayed for Cowboy
to be caught. I’m willing to die—but I want my husband
to be safe.”


>

to keep on living!

Jailer Gibbs Duhon repeated the incident to Father
Richard, the Catholic priest who was the only church-
man Toni Jo would see.

“Then Cowboy Henry’s escape was not without some
good,” the priest said. “It has proved to Toni Jo that
God answers prayer—even from the most hardened.”

From that moment Toni Jo—erstwhile Tiger Girl—
was the least concerned of the jail group about her
approaching execution on Saturday.

Sheriff Reid had fallen ill and his son, Henry, was
acting sheriff. The execution of a woman in the electric
chair was not alone the first in Louisiana, but the young
man’s baptism as an associate executioner.

“It’s a job and it has to be done,” he said shortly.
“Toni Jo will go out like a man—take my word for it.
She’s the best prisoner we ever had here, tough as she
was on the start-off.”

The executioner wired that the portable electric chair
was coming overland by truck. Toni Jo sent out her
best black dress to be cleaned and pressed for what she
called ‘““my big day.” News writers, photographers and
news service men gathered and pleaded for interviews.

“Nothing doing,” Toni Jo said firmly. “I want to see
just one person—Father Richard. I want to talk to just
one person—Cowboy Henry, my husband.”

And, by some strange telepathy, the Cowboy was
pleading with the warden at Huntsville for the boon of
a long-distance call. to the woman who was to die. The
newspapers carried the story and from the avid, thrill
seeking minds of the public came countless requests that
the two murderers be permitted a final farewell.

And so it came about that at high noon, Friday, one
day to the hour before her execution, Toni Jo was led

down to the jail office and installed at an extension tele-.

phone. In Huntsville the warden’s secretary performed
a like office for the Cowboy.

The ’phone bell burred lustily at Lake Charles. The
acting sheriff threw a switch and nodded to Toni Jo,
who, eyes shining like.a bride’s, sat poised over the
instrument.

“Cowboy—darling!” she said eagerly, but her voice
was firm, deep with the intensity of her feeling.

“Me—Toni Jo,’ he answered, grimly, “I tried, kid,
but I couldn’t make it. I guess it just wasn’t meant to
come off that way.”

“I prayed, Cowboy,” she answered throatily. “Me—

y7j7~=

c. V. KERN—— : :

Detective Chief, Houston, Tex. ‘‘Copkiller Henry is
headed your -way,” he phoned Louisiana sheriff.
“He's bad. Rather than take one chance, shoot to kill!’

the dopehead, I prayed to God they’d get you before you

-got killed over here. And now listen to me, boy, I’ve

got until tomorrow to remember all the love and the
sweet things you did to help me. Then I’m going out—
to stay.
“It won’t be hard, Cowboy; you’re my big worry now.
I want you to take it on the chin, do your bit there,
and come out through the front door. You've got a lot
of stuff, lover, and even though it will be years, you still
can make good. There’s nothing in the ‘hooky’ life but
trouble and law, Boy. Get wise, and play on the right
team.”
“T’ll do her,” the Cowboy answered, and there were
tears in the voice of that tough young Texas hombre.
He was sobbing as the fare-
wells were said. But Toni Jo
was calm. And she was calm
, when at 12:02 Saturday noon,
Nov. 28, 1942, she descended the
stairs accompanied by the priest
who had comforted her in her
final moments.

“Smile, Father,” she said
when a battery of cameras
swept toward them, and both
were ready when the flashlights
sparkled.

Sitting in the death chair

. she was quite composed. She
didn’t move until the juice was
turned on. and hurled her body
against the straps.

The Calloway murder had
been “paid off.”’

EXECUTION DAY—-

Part of crowd which gathered
to see the jail lights flicker
when the “juice” was turned on.

73


oY

BURKS', Harold Finnoh,

Oe neta eet

24

* - TAN har 22 De
yhite, elec. EXMKXK Lake Charles, LA November 28, 1942;
HENRY, Toni Jo, white, elec. Lake Charles, LA, March 23, 1943

The Angolite-May/June 1995

a

GOODBYE, TONI JO

The Electrocution of Annie Beatrice Henry

By BURK FOSTER*

Coenen eee eee ee

SHE BELIEVED IN HER FATE:
she said she always knew there was a God
running the show. When she was six, her
mother, who had named her Annie Beatrice,
died of tuberculosis. At 13 she ran away
from home and became a prostitute. By 17
she was a drug addict and a full-time whore
in Shreveport’s red light district, working
under a new name: “Toni Jo Hood.” She
escaped the life to marry her one true love,
a tough guy named Cowboy Henry, only to
have him torn away to serve 50 years in a
Texas prison.

On Valentine’s Day, not long after her 24th
birthday, she murdered a salesman in a rice field
south of Lake Charles. She had to do it, she ex-
plained in one of her confessions: it was all part
of her scheme to get Cowboy out of prison. Less
than two months later, a Calcasieu Parish jury
gave Toni Jo her first death sentence. In the next
two years she would get two more. In jail she
converted to Catholicism, and the young priest
who baptized her became her closest friend as
she waited in jail to be put to death.

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving 1942, in
the Lake Charles courthouse, Toni Jo Henry was
executed in Louisiana’s portable electric chair.
She was 26 years old, the “prettiest murder de-
fendant in these parts in our time,” and she was
one-of-a-kind: the only woman ever electrocuted
in Louisiana.

The murder of Houston salesman Joseph P.
Calloway on St. Valentine’s Day 1940, and the
subsequent trials of Toni Jo Henry and her male
companion Finnon Burks, eventually resulting in
the execution of both defendants in late 1942 and
early 1943, make up one of those local cultural

events that we label a “crime of the century.” In
this case, because it happened in Calcasieu Par-
ish, it is probably better labelled the crime of the
half-century. Wilbert Rideau’s highly-publicized
bank robbery and murder in February 1961 is
undoubtedly the crime of the more recent half-
century.

Older people around Lake Charles still re-
member—imperfectly—both crimes: Rideau’s
one-day crime spree because it was so highly pub-
licized and because he has remained in the pub-
lic eye, after leaving Death Row, as a well-known
prison journalist, author and commentator; Toni
Jo’s quirky violence because it seems to bridge
the gap between the pre-World War Two gang-
ster era and the “criminal as society’s victim”
school of thought of today.

For the 1940s, the murder of Calloway by
Henry and Burks had all the elements necessary
for media melodrama: a beautiful defendant with
a very troubled past; a passionate love story be-
tween a Texas convict and the prostitute-drug
addict he had diverted—if only temporarily—
from a life of crime; a chance meeting between
an Army deserter and the anguished wife that led
to a horrific criminal act; a victim’s family and a
legal system bent on exacting life-for-life retri-

Professor Burk Foster teaches in the Criminal
Justice Department of the University of South-
western Louisiana in Lafayette. He is also a Con-
tributing Editor for the Angolite. He thanks his two
research assistants, Mary Ann Baker, who did the
preliminary microfilm work at USL, and Mariette
L. Hebert, who did the on-site microfilm and legal
work in Lake Charles, necessary for this project.
He also acknowledges and offers his deep appre-
ciation to Msgr. Wayne Richard for his coopera-
tion throughout this research.


ee

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Dressed to Kill

(Continued from page 49)

big idea?” he cried, and moved his foot
to the brakes.

Toni Jo kicked his foot away and
ordered him to keep driving till they came
to a side road. There she told him to turn
left. A short distance further she made
him stop. While Arkinsaw kept the man
covered, Toni Jo got out and went round
to the driver’s side. She told the driver to
get out.

“Look,” he pleaded, “I only have $15 on
me and this wrist watch. You’re welcome
to them.”

“We'll take ’em,” Toni Jo snapped.
“And we'll take your car, and your
clothes.”

“My clothes?” he gasped.

“Right. Get out of that suit fast,” Toni
Jo commanded, “unless you want the top
of your skull blown off.”

Obviously embarrassed, as well as
frightened, the man stripped to his skin
before the icy-eyed girl. To Arkinsaw she
said, “This guy’s duds will just about fit

| Cowboy.”

In the distance, not too far away from
where they stood, Toni Jo now observed
oil derricks, clearly visible in the light of
gas flares. She had intended to leave their
victim there and drive away, but now, with
men in the oil fields so close, she didn’t
dare; he could give the alarm too quickly.

Motioning with the pistol in her hand,

‘|she ordered him into the trunk of the car

and slammed the lid down on him.
“What're you gonna do with him?”
Arkinsaw asked.
“T’'ll think of something,” she said. “Get

| going.”

They drove back to the main highway.
In a little while they came to what ap-
peared to be a broad expanse of farmland
with no dwellings in sight, Arkinsaw
stopped.

“Okay,” Toni Jo said. “One of those
haystacks will make as good a spot as
any.”

“Look, baby,” Arkinsaw protested, “you
ain’t—”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “I’ll take care
of this.”

She opened the car trunk and forced the
naked man to walk ahead of her into the
field. Near one of the haystacks she halted
him.

“I suppose you know you'll go to the
penitentiary for a thing like this,” he said,

“Forget where I’m going,” she retorted.
“For where you're going, you better kneel
down. You don’t have a chance, but you
do have a prayer.”

The doomed man fell to his knees and
began to pray aloud.

Toni Jo stood behind him and held the
82 revolver inches away from the back
of his head. As he prayed, she pulled the
trigger. The prayers broke off as the slug
tore into the back of his neck. He pitched
forward onto his face.

For the remainder of their trip to Cam-
den, Arkansas, it was a frightened Arkin-
Saw who did the driving. At the first
chance, when they had stopped in Camden,
he deserted her and fled with the car. Toni
Jo raged like a wild woman when she dis-
covered his treachery, but that was all she
could do.

In desperation, she took a bus to her
home town, Shreveport, Louisiana, where
she called on a madame and asked for
help. But when, under persistent ques-
tioning, the woman learned from Toni Jo
what she had done, she wanted no part of
the young girl. She advised her to go to
her family, an old and respected clan in

EELS REI TES AE, INR SAIN PANE RN APIO BANAL

that part of Louisiana, one of whose
members was a high official in the state
government.

Toni Jo finally took her advice and
went to the home of an aunt, because she
didn’t know where else to turn. After
hearing her niece’s shocking and incredible
Story, the distraught aunt called the state
police. Toni Jo repeated her confession to
them, turned over her .32 with its one
spent cartridge, and then led them to the
spot near Lake Charles where she had
slain the motorist. His body was still there
He was identified as Joseph P. Calloway,
of Houston. The green Ford was presently
tracked down, but Toni Jo flatly refused to
help identify her accomplice, beyond say-
ing his nickname was Arkinsaw.

As authorities probed into Toni Jo's
background they found a history of way-
wardness that began at an early age. She
had run away from home at fourteen. She
had hated school, but she found jobs and
the tiresome rigors of steady work “no
better than school.” Maturing rapidly, she
looked older than her 14 years and soon
became a familiar sight in nightspots. She
went to work in a house of prostitution
before her 16th birthday. From liquor she
progressed to marijuana and then to more
severe forms of drug addiction. From the
age of 18 to 22, she had lived with a suc-
cession of prize fighters and her police
record showed eight entries, on charges
ranging from assault to vagrancy to
drunkenness. The one and only thing of
any importance in her life, it appeared,
was her love for Cowboy Henry, the hus-
band now serving a 50-year sentence for
murder.

It was this fact which inspired Louisiana
Officials to try a ruse to enlist her co-
operation. Through a complicated legal
procedure, they took her to the prison at
Huntsville and allowed her to talk pri-
vately with her husband. Afterwards she
identified Arkinsaw as Harold Finnon
Burks and the FBI promptly traced him to
Warren, Arkansas, where he was arrested

Burks frankly admitted he had been
afraid of Toni Jo. “That dame is nuts,” he
said. “But an awful dangerous nut.”

Toni Jo proved how right he was at
just about this same time, back in Lake
Charles, when she changed her story and
told police that she had not, after all, led
Joseph Calloway behind the haystack and
shot him; the truth was, she said, that
Burks was the one who had slain the un-
fortunate driver.

Harold Finnon Burks and Toni Jo
Henry were both indicted for murder in
the first degree, but Toni Jo was scheduled
to stand trial separately, ahead of Burks.
She took the witness stand and blamed
the murder entirely on Burks. District
Judge John T. Hood, presiding at the
trial, refused to allow Toni Jo to attempt
to work up juror sympathy by emotional-
izing her “abused” childhood and youth-
ful indoctrination in brothels. The judge
ruled all this had nothing to do with the
murder,

After seven hours of deliberation, the
jury found Toni Jo guilty and she was
sentenced to death. Burks also was found
guilty and sentenced to hang when he was
tried a few weeks later. Execution of these
sentences was forestalled, however, when
the supreme court granted Toni Jo a new
trial. Burks received a stay to permit him
to testify against her.

Judge Mark Pickrel presided at the
second trial of Toni Jo and Burks was the
star witness, but when it was over, the

jury took only 60 minutes to find her.

guilty. Her attorneys appealed once more,
and won yet another trial.

At the third trial, Judge Pickrel was
again the presiding judge. The outcome
was the same. For the third time a jury

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found Toni Jo guilty of murder in the first
degree, and again the death sentence was
passed on her. On appeal this time, the
supreme court upheld both the convic-
tion and the sentence. There was one
minor difference. Two years before, Louisi-
ana had changed its method of executions
from hanging to the electric chair. The
date for Toni Jo’s execution was set for
November 28, 1942.

Shortly before this, Toni Jo was allowed
to hold that final press conference. De-
scribing how she felt about her husband,
she said, “That guy is king of my heart.
Nobody ever really cared about me until
he came along. Every man wants a pas-
sionate woman, but few are willing to
risk marrying them—and Cowboy did that.
He took the monkey off my back and I'll
always be grateful to him.”

At the same time, she finally told the
truth about the killing, in an effort to save
Burks from dying for the murder she had
committed.

Three days later, on November 23rd, the
whole case took on a _ sensational new
comple:ion. Cowboy Henry and another
prisoner crashed out of the prison farm
at Sugar Land, Texas, slugging a driver
and making off in his truck.

A general alarm describing the escaped
felons was immediately broadcast. Inter-
rogation of fellow prisoners disclosed that
Cowboy had virtually gone berserk when

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he read Toni Jo’s farewell interview. He
had told several cronies that if it hadn’t
been for him she would never have gotten
herself into all this trouble; it was all his
fault, he said. The only thing he could do,
he insisted, was to break out and try to
save her from execution. He was going
to spring her from her death cell in Lake
Charles, he said, or die in the attempt.

Lake Charles authorities were notified
at once and local and state police were
alerted. A special guard was set up around
the parish jail where Toni Jo was sched-
uled to die on November 28th. Posses of
armed citizens patrolled all highways in
and around Lake Charles. Floodlights
bathed the entire jail all night long.

“Cowboy is crazy if he thinks he can
get me out of here,” Toni Jo exclaimed,
when she heard what had happened. “But
being the kind of a guy he is, I guess he’s
gotta try.”

The following morning, Tuesday, a
flurry of excitement swept through Lake
Charles when the report was passed that
a high-powered car had been stolen in a
town only 20 miles away. It was immedi-
ately presumed that Cowboy Henry was
the thief and that he must now be in
the immediate vicinity of the jail.

That excitement was as nothing, how-
ever, compared to the frenzy that followed
the tip from Houston that Cowboy Henry
had recently left that city after telling
underworld acquaintances what his plan
was. He was going to kidnap either Judge

Pickrel or Judge Hood, both of whom had
sentenced Toni Jo to death. If his beloved
Toni Jo died in the electric chair, a judge
would die.

The houses of both judges were placed
under heavy guard and members of their
families were not allowed to go abroad
without armed protection. By that night,
Lake Charles and its environs was under
a state of virtual siege.

Then, on Wednesday, Beaumont police
were tipped off that Cowboy Henry had
been spotted there. They promptly began
a methodical check of every rooming
house and hotel in the city. Late that night
they came to a cheap hotel near the rail-
road station.

The drowsy night clerk did a double
take when he was shown a photograph
of Cowboy Henry. “Say, that looks like
the guy who came in earlier tonight. Said
his name was Harper, W. H. Harper. He’s
in Room 7.”

The officers immediately radioed head- |
quarters for reinforcements, and _ in

minutes, the entire hotel was surrounded,
and patrolmen and detectives took up
positions in the halls. Finally, with sub-
machine guns trained on the door of Room
7, Cowboy Henry was ordered to come out,
with his hands up.

The door opened and Cowboy stood
there, his hands in the air. “I got no gun,”
he said.

All during the drive back to Huntsville,
under heavy guard, Cowboy pleaded for
only one thing. “All I want is to talk to
her—just once. Please, fellers, please.

What the hell—I didn’t even get close to |
springing her—so what can it hurt if you |

let me talk to her?”

For the time being, his captors refused
to accept the responsibility for such a
thing. They told him he’d have to get per-
mission from a higher authority. At Hunts-
ville, he tearfully repeated his request
to newspapermen, and soon the entire
South had heard about his plea to be al-
lowed to speak one last time to his wife.

In Lake Charles Toni Jo added her en-
treaties to those of her husband and,
under the pressure of public clamor to
permit this final sentimental gesture,
authorities of both states finally gave in.

Cowboy was summoned to the warden’s
office at Huntsville on the afternoon of
Friday, November 27th, at 4:15. At 4:22
the telephone rang. The warden answered,
then handed the instrument to Cowboy
and said, “I.’s for you, Henry.”

Toni Jo was calling from Lake Charles.
She did most of the talking. Cowboy,
hugging the phone to his ear, sobbed un-
controllably. Toni Jo scolded him for his
quixotic attempt to save her, made him
promise never to attempt to escape again,
but to serve his sentence and go straight.

“Get rid of that prison suit and go out
the front door, honey,” she said earnestly.
“Go straight and try to make something
of yourself. Goodbye, honey.”

Before her time came, Toni Jo made one
more attempt to save Burks’ life, but in |
vain. Four months after her execution, on
March 23, 1943, he went to the chair. |

As for Toni Jo, the call to Cowboy had
revived her spirits and she was cheerful
in her last hours. Her only complaint came

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when her head was shaved, but she was
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“That guy is the king of my heart,”
Toni Jo said of “Cowboy,” her husband

was, to say the least, unusual for a girl
in her profession, particularly with the
prospect of a busy night in the offing.
When she returned to the parlor with
Cowboy, Toni Jo was fully dressed and
carrying a light topcoat.

“I’m going out for a little walk,” she
said to the madame, who glanced at
her suspiciously.

“Well, I guess it’s okay,” the woman
said. ‘But don’t be long. Things’ll be
starting to pop in an hour or so.”

Toni Jo and Cowboy actually did take
a walk. But, half an hour later, when
he suggested taking her back to the
house, she would have none of it. She
had made up her mind. She wanted
to stay with him. ,

“T._J’d like nothin’ better, honey,”
he hedged, “but the fact is, I’m near
tapped out.”

She laughed. “Forget it. I came pre-
pared.” To prove it, she raised her
skirt so he could see a sheaf of bills
tucked into the tops of her nylons. He
started to protest, but she shut him off.

Three days later Toni Jo went back
to the house for her things. She told
the madame she was going to marry
Cowboy and that he had promised to
break her of the dope habit. The
madame, who had done a little sleuth-
ing on her own, tried to talk her out
of it by telling Toni Jo a few facts
about Cowboy, but the girl stopped her.

“I know all about it,” she said. ‘‘He
was tried for murdering a cop and they
found him guilty, but he’s got an ap-
peal and they let him out on bail. It
was self-defense. He and the cop were
out together and the cop got nasty,
pulled a gun, and when they fought

ETE LL A TS. Sa tian ni ea an aaa

Arkinsaw watched the murder of a
helpless man, then he fled in terror

over it, the cop got shot. Cowboy’s
going to be acquitted in his next trial,
you'll see.”

Toni Jo’s faith in Cowboy was at
least partly justified, for in a matter of
weeks, after a torturous, violent period
of “cold-turkey” treatment in which
he guarded her 24 hours a day to keep
her from getting narcotics, she was
cured; she no longer craved drugs; she
no longer needed them.

Her reward was a marriage certifi-
cate. They drove over the Texas line
to Sulphur, Louisiana, and were mar-
ried by a justice of the peace. On the
marriage license Toni Jo wrote her real
name, Annie Beatrice McQuiston. Cow-
boy took her on a motor trip to Cali-
fornia for their honeymoon, but he re-
mained in constant contact with his
lawyers, and eventually he was sum-
moned back for his second trial, at
Hondo, Texas. Toni Jo pleaded with
him not to return, but Cowboy was
adamant, confident that his marriage
to her was a turning point in his life
and that from now on, the breaks
would come his way.

He was wrong. The jury again found
him guilty, and at the end of January
he was sentenced to 50 years in the
State Penitentiary at Huntsville, Texas.

Toni Jo’s explosive reaction to what
she considered the harshness of this
sentence threw the court into an up-
roar. White with rage, she vaulted the
railing and rushed to her husband’s
side. She threw her arms around him
and sobbed, “Oh Cowboy! Cowboy!
They won’t get away with this. Don’t
you worry, Cowboy, I’ll get you out. I
swear it boy—I’ll get you out!”

Sh en cement actinenihenlim tm oi TR PE

4

Cowboy went to Huntsville to begin
serving his term and Toni Jo, frantic,
convinced that before she could do
anything to spring her beloved she had
to obtain money, and lots of it, prowled
around Beaumont, Texas, where she
once had worked in the oldest profes-
sion. She had many contacts there and
desperately she sought help for her
half-formed hare-brained plan to get
Cowboy out of prison.

It was a few days before she found
what she wanted, in the person of an
ex-convict known by many names, but
introduced to her as “Arkinsaw.” He
fell in with Toni Jo’s plan and the two
hired a couple of kids to break into
a pawnshop and steal for them a
veritable arsenal of pistols in assorted
calibers, as well as ammunition. From
this haul Arkinsaw selected a pair of
.38s for himself, and Toni Jo took a
82. This was the first step in the plan
which Arkinsaw had suggested as a
preliminary to springing Cowboy.

First, he had pointed out, they would
need money. And where do you get
money? In banks. He knew a small-
{own bank near Camden, Arkansas,
that was bulging with cash which could
be had for the taking. Toni Jo loved
the idea.

Next, they had to get a car, and they
had a plan for this, too. But when
Arkinsaw met Toni Jo to begin this
phase he nearly had a fit. She was
wearing flaming scarlet slacks and a
bright, Kelly green jacket.

“Are you nuts?” he demanded. ‘““What
the hell kind of a get-up is that? They’ll
see you coming a mile off and nobody
could ever forget your description.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Toni Jo
agreed, “and that’s how I want it. In
this little bundle, though, I’ve got a
simple little dress. After we hijack the
car, I change into it, and when the
owner gets around to telling the cops
what I look like, all he’ll remember is
the red and green ensemble, but by
that time, in my plain little number,
V’ll be looking like plain Jane from
anywhere.”

Toni Jo and Arkinsaw then went out
to the Beaumont city limits and began
hitchhiking, but they were very choosey
about accepting rides. They turned
down several offers until a brand new,
dark green Ford V-8 stopped. The
driver was alone, a well-dressed, genial,
heavy-set man about 40 years old. They
told him they were bound for New
Orleans and he said he could take thein
as far as Jennings, Louisiana. They
were properly appreciative.

They reached Lake Charles, Louisi-
ana, late that night, and passed through
the city. When they came out into the
open highway again, Toni Jo made her
move. Reaching into her purse as
casually as if she was looking for her
lipstick, she extracted the .32, leaned
forward and held it in the light from
the dashboard so the driver could see it.

“What’s the (Continued on page 80)

49


i

CAPACI and DALLAO, hanged Bevtna, Lagy 5-18-193) - Continued - Part IIr-

owner of a speakeasy at 3218 Freret. Ste .An-inspection of speakeasy resulted re a leather

holster for the murder weapon ‘being found, When i
naming Capaci, , » Re a ee confronted with evidence, Dallao confessed,
: -

Both indicted by Jefferson Parish Grand Jury on 1-16-1933, T-P, 1-17-1933 (2/1)
They were granted ‘severances, TIMES-PICAYUNE, -2/10-1933 (20/6), 3

‘ t aaa ;
Téstimony ended at Dallao's trial, "A purported confession by is 4 .
: ‘Lal, y Dallao of his part in the
slaying was introduced without ‘objection, ‘and the defense called only one ‘thoes, Mrs. Lena
Dallao, mother of the defendants Her testimony was: limited to .a descrpition of hir son's’
boyhood, his meager education: and his recent hardships, Dalleo has a wife and two children

and hds been unemployed for some time, she saidgeaeea" TIMES-PICAYUNE, 3/22/1933 (10~=3)

Dallaeo convicted with death penalty. He and his mother sat unmoved i j
a ae sareument, Dallaots qgounsel pointed out that he had Sietet whiner ct thence aby
and left at 1) in the third grade, . TIMES-PICAWNE 3/23/1933 (1/5, ) Wien, ih oe
Capaci convicted with death penalty,/by jury deliberati O minutes, © i
maintained that;he was 'mortally afraid eS Dallao," *rIMes: PIOAYURES go, ets eae
if ! “ : P “ : t Eh £? ‘
"Roused from sleep in the condemned row of the Orleans Parish Prison, George Dallao and.
John Capaci were removed under heavy guard to Gretna jail early Tuesday morning to await
hanging Fridaye..Autombiles carrying New Orleans police and Jeffersor Parish deputies armed
with rifles, revolvers, machine guns and gas’ Yombs flanked the First Precinct patrol -wagon
in which the condemned men, handcuffed together, were taken across the river on the Jackson
Avenue ferry and to the jail where they, are scheduled to be hanged between noon and 3 pem,
Friday. Dallao and Capaci were in a jovidl mood Tuesday morning, They joked with Kenneth
Neu, occypant of another cell in the conderined row, before they left the Parish Prison,
On the way to Gretna they chatted and smoked cigarettes with members of their escort, During
the day in Gretna jail, they continued cheerful, Families of both men visited the jail
early in the afternoon and spent approximately an hour with them, They told attendants
that they still had hopes of a last-minute reprieve from Governor 0. K, Allen, Dallao and
Capaci.were awakened shortly before 5 a.m, by Warden George Miller of the Parish Prison and
were informed that they were to be moved-té‘Gretfa, Sheriff Frank Clancy of Jefferson ©
Parish, with Deps. Paul Cassagne, Earl Rolling and Peter Leson waited outside the cells.
~The Rev, Father George’McNamara, who as béén spiritual counselor to the doomed men,- also
was there. ‘It's pretty tough, Father,' Dallao said'to him, Aroused by the sound of pre-
parations, Kenneth Neu, sentenced to hang for the mrder of Sheffield Clark, Sr.,- began
singing from his adjoining cell, He sang: 'It's just a Street Where Old Friends Meet,!
Before they left, Neu told jokes on how Dallao and Capaci had acted while in the condemned
row. The latter laughed, ...The trip to Gretna was uneventful,, Arriving at the jail,
Dallao said: 'I'll take it on the chin,',,,TIMES-PICAYUNE, May 15, 193.

"..edied on gallows of Jefferson parish prison at Gretna between noon and 12:30 pm, today,
eee“ho fired the two shots that slew Rabito continues officially a mystery, Capaci, Fri-
day morning said Earl Sullivan of New Orleans committed the murder, Sullivan recently died
of a wound received in a bandit foray at Shreveport,..Sheriff Jrank J, Clancy of Jefferson
Parish is firm in his beliéf that Dallao pallned the crime and slew Rabito, Dep, Sh, Paul
B, Cassagne is equally:firm in the belief thact Capaci planned and committed the mrder,
They were the closest of any two living men to the two sime their arrest., Joseph Rabito,
2407 Napoleon Aves, eldest brother of Charles Rabito, the slain man, witnessed the hangings
by invitation of Sheriff Clancy, Rabito stood silent before the gallows, his jaw clenched,
and watched the two men who had slain and robbed his brother die, 'H have nothing to say,!
he told reporters, It was noon sharp, wen Dallao was handcuffed by Dep. Sh. Pete (Bush)
leson and started his death march to the gallows, 12:03 p.m. when the noosed was placed
around his neck, 12:05 p,m, when he dropped through the trap, and 2:08 p.m, when Dr. M. Ee
Odom, coroner of Jefferson Parish, pronounced him dead, It was 12:20 pm when Capaci, hand-
cuffed, started for the gallows, 12:2) pm when the rope was placed about his neck, 12:26
pm when the lever was pulled and 12:29 pm when Dr, Odom officially pronounced him dead,

The necks of both men were broken instantly, but the execution was gruesome beyond words.
wotté a 9=foot drop and both men weighing above 200 pounds, their carotid arteries and


. . . ut ¢
and they werein Charles Rabito's car. Johhny Capaci was holding a gun on Charles Rabito when
I got into the car at Liberty and Poydras Streets, After getting into the car I took the
wheel and we put Charles Rabito in the middle of us, all the' while Johnny Capaci holding the
gun on Charles Rabito, I then. drove the automobile in Liberty Street, over the Liberty Street
Bridge, then back a mud street alongside of the warehouses into Magnolia St, ,. down Magnolia
‘St. to Clio St., out Clio Ste into Claiborne Avenue and up Claiborne Ave, and across the
Claiborne Bridgeinto Jefferson Parish and ‘continued up for about 3 miles, where we turned
‘into a dirt or gravel: road and drove into this road for, about 4 a-block, I than stopped the
car and Johnny Capaci and Charles Rabito got. out of the Cary all the time Johnny Cap aci holding
the gun on Charles Rabito, Capaci walked Charles Rabito into the woods and after walking a
short distance I heard two’ shote and I blew tha horn for Johnny Capaci to come back so we

blocks, Johnny Capaci threw the gun out of the-car intia the canal, We then turned off Claie
borne Avg. into Panola St, where, about the middle of the block, we abandoned the car, After
taking the money out of the bag, we left the checks and bags in thecar, Johnny Capiaci took
themoney and he still has it and I do not know how much we got out of the job, After leaving
the car on Panola St, we got into a car on Carrollton Ave, and-+transferred fran the Carrollton
Ave, to a Claiborne Ave, car and went downto Jackson Ave ey where we got out .and separated,
and I went on home, The automatic pistol that we used in this job is the pistol that I
bought from my brother, Salvadore, for $2 some months ago, I cannot: understand why Johnny
Capaci killed Charles Rabita, because I did not understand this wild. happen, for if I did T
would not have gone on this’ job with him,' » , ie
"Anthony Dalkao, brother of George Dallao, was one of tlose held during the day as police
made the investigationg which led’ up to the. confessions, He was released after his brother
and Capaci signed the confessions, The police were aided by John Rabito, brother of the
slain man, and to'protect him from pdssible violence a: guard was placed at his home, 3201 &
Yeneral Taylor Ste, Friday night, John “abite told then that his brother was acquainted with
GeorgeDallao and that thelatter had been a customer at the wholesalegrovery. house where
“John and Charles Rabito worked. Subsequant developjents included, the identification of Dallao
as"one of the companions of Rabito in the automovile in which the latter rode to his death,

' drink establishment which police said was operated by the Dallao brothers, Checking the
Serial number of the gun which 2 sbhoolboys said was throw from an automobile into the
Claiborne Avene canal shortly after Rabito s death, police Friday traced its ownership to:
Salvadore Dallao, 541 St. Mary St., who said he sold it for $2 to his brother George, Wite

Parish after they saw the car in which Rabito was being taken for a ! ide' Identified

George Dallao Friday morning as one of the men in the car, They are “illiam Andrews, 16,
and Robert Brooks, 12, negro, The negro boy, after the shots, found Rabito's body and _
notified Jefferson Parish polices," TIMES PICAYUNE, 1-7-192 (Z/1) Photos of both on 2,

The following condensed from TIMES-PICAYUNE, 1/8/1933 (1/7): Investigation closed with |
Tiling of charges against Capaci on 1/7. Dallao had been charged on 1/6, "Federal authori-
ties Saturday said that they could not explain’ why a 12 months! Suspended sentence recalled
against Dallao on 3/4/1931, was not recalled when he completed serving a state sentence in
April of that year, 'our records show that a detainer was placed against Dallao, but there
is no record of his having served the recalled "suspended sentece,'' W. H, Norman, asst,

U. S, attorney in charge of prohibition cases said." The murder weapon had been traced from
a pawnshop through s everal purchasers. to Salvadore "Tuddy" Dallao who told officers he had
sold it to George, his brother, George denied having ever seen gun and suggested that it
was his othe brother Anthony who was then brought in, for quest ning, Geotge, being oues-
tioned, sought to establish alibi of having bea@i-at movie with a‘ friend, Frank Pate, But,

Pate said George had not Me ffi heck found that Dal lao:
could have beat involved rae er" a set? Pstee ag. Of up “ab f:10. Mn boys, drews
Brooks, identified Dallao in lineup as one of men at murder site, Policecheck of Dallao

showed that he had been charged in connection with a bank robbery and was believed to be the


jugular veins were severed by the rope and blood covered their chests, ‘fter Dallao's body
was taken away, jail attendants sluiced the concrete apace -beneath the gaklows with a-hose
before Capaci was brought out to be hanged. Both men's bodies were takeh in charge by New
Orleans undertakers to’ be buried by their families, -Through' a moming of alternate sunshine
cand rain, the Gretna jail, seene of the first hanging since the building was constructed.and
scene of the first legal hanging of a white man in Jefferson Parish history, swirled with.
excitement. No gallows was -built in the jail, because when it was built, Louisiana's legal
executions were held in’ Baten- Rouge, -So.'the ancient wooden gallows that stood under the
roof of New Orleans! old Parish Prison at Tulane Ave, and Saratoga St. was reared in the rear
of thejail, between jail and garage, and a 2-story wooden framework was placed about the
giant structure, hung with tarpalins, A space 15 by 0 feet was thus barred from public
viewWeeesDallao and Capaci both had-asked for an‘oyster sandwich arid a bottle of beer at 11
pem, ‘Thursday. It was the last morsel passed their lips until their religious. observances
were ended shortly after 8 asm. Then both asked for grapefnuit, fried eggsand coffe, which
were brought. Capaci ate while Dallao refused food,’ Both were offered whiskey, Dapaci
‘drank half a tumbler and Dallao-refusedesses. (after witnesses had gathered in Sheriff's
office) Presently Henry Meyers, New Orleans hangman, arrived with his rope. Ina deputy's
bedroom in the prison he greased the hempen cord with Lard, then'rubbed it with lye soap,
tied the knots at either end, He was paid $100 for each hanging,baid Sheriff Clancy, Some
hundred-offl spectators had now crowded into the-otd jail... They drank coffee and whisky,
discussed past executions, entered the befroom where the execution was working on the rope
to "touch it for luck,",..(after devoiionals by priest)eboth men rose and suddently went to
their cell windows, talling out to the crewd below, ‘Come on} : Pray for us! Don't curse
us,y' Called out Dallao, ‘Listen! called out Capaci to somebody in the wowd below, 'That's
my aunt over there, dressed in black,. Ask her how my mother{s holding-up,' Again whisky
was offered both men, Capaci drank, Dallao refusing, ‘Don't drink’too much, John,! one of
the Sisters of Mercy asked Capaci, 'I won't,sister,' he replied, «..Dallao started death
march, his lips moving in the response of the litany, Steadily he climbed the 20 steps
that led to the gallows, coatless, head eréct, shoulders squared, le took his place on

the trap. The hangman started to tie his ankles, 'Wait a minute,' he asked. 'Take off
my ghoese' His shoes were removed, Barefooted, he stood on the sun-hot steel. ...Last
words just before trap was sprung was a ‘muffled 'Goodbye' from under the hood,cooeeA few
minutes later John Capaci had followed his fellow mrderer to the scaffold, He too walked
with firm step, head in air, his lips repedting the 'Litany of the Dying.’ He, too, asked
that his bhoes be removedeeeDallao and Capaci were fifth to be executed in double hangings
on that same scaffold,. Funeral services for Dallao will be held at 2 p.m, today at the
undertaking parlors of Lamana=Panno-Fallo, Inc,, ‘with interment in Metarie Cemetery. Final
rites for Capaci have been tentatively get for this afternoon at the Pat J, McMahon-Coburn
Funeral home." TIMES-PICAYUNE, New Orleans, La,, May 1%, <193 (1/2) Photos on page 9 of
Capaci and: Tallao with Sheriff Clancy; of crowd gathered outside jail; and of Rabito's bro-
ther arriving for execution, ~ “8 ¢ Phe A

t ! iS ¢


CAPACI, John & DAILEO, George, whites, hanged Gretna, LA May 18, 1934

UNRAVELLING the BA

LEVEES

A NEW ORLEANS MU

By CHIEF of
DETECTIVES
JOHN J. GROSCH

NEW ORLEANS, (LA.)
POLICE DEPT.

As told to
EDGAR FOREST WOLFE

TRUE DETECTIVE, July, 19%

(Above) Charles Rabito,

murder victim, slain by a

lifelong friend for the money
he carried

(Right) Scene of murder
where Chief Grosch’s. per-
sistent efforts uncovered
evidence that trapped the
killers. The Chief is shown
in center group, hatless,
with back to camera

(Left) Chief of Detectives
John J. Grosch who tells
TRUE DETECTIVE read-
ers how he solved this
murder without a_ clue

re Seema s

ACK of t!
the Missi
of New

weeds, bi
farm or a subdi
Jefferson Parish
a county in oth
where the heron
surrounding [a
Highway, leadin
to the West.
Shortly after :
5th, 1938, Rober
years of age wh:
a small dairy fa
Jefferson Parish
he saw an auto!
the highway int:
woods. He saw
into the brush.
one of the men
the car, which dr:
New Orleans. 1]
high weeds back
of a white man

_ two gaping bullet

William J. Ai
worked on his {
from the Bordes


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Rev. E. S. Stills, pastor of the (?) Baptist church, colored, was with
Carter, His prayers, mingled with those of the doomed negro, could. be
heard by the q. iet prisoners in the top floor of the jail. :
"PORK CHOPS AND EGGS
"Just hefore. noon Sheriff -Hughes,accompenied by W. Te Somerdndyck (?)
Tom Yacobs, read the death warrant to arter. The murderer, smiled «© «
through it all-and said he, was ready,to ZO. Busy with his. preschers
and the. chanting. of weird melodies, Carter did not eat turkey, bananas,
ice cream and. soda. pop as he seid he would, Insteadihe ate the usual ©”
last meal.of a doomed;rnegro, Jailer Jarrett said, pork chops and eggs |!
for breakfast, He was the sixth person to be executed in the new jail -
here. Two white men, F, L. Patterson and Boris Tolette, were hanged last
June for murdering a Pine Island merchant, Henry Lewis, ‘negro, was
hanged in December for the murder of a bank messenger, VFelix'Duhart
and Benny White, negroes, also paid with their lives for’ murder."

TIMES, SREREOMP EE: te July l, 19336

OG)

@ °

CARTER, Sampson, black, hanged Shreveport, Louistana,: June 30, 1933,
ei Palle; 3

"NEGRO KILLER TO BE HANGED IN JAIL TODAY/SAMPSON CARTER WILL PAY WITH
LIFE FOR HAMMER MURDER OF W, M. MORGAN/Between' noon and 3 p.m. today,
Sampson Carter, 26-year-old negro, will be hanged on the gallows in the
Caddo parish jail for the murder of W. M. Morgan, aged filling station
operator, the evening of March 8. Thecexact time of Carter's execu-
ne pe has not been decided, Sheriff 7, R. Hughes said Thursday, Carter
will be she sixth person to be hangéd in the new jail here. Only two
whité men have been hanged. Thursday the condemned negro maintained
his carefree attitude, but his smile seemed to be just a bit broad.
Reading of his wish to have turkey on the day he died, Mrs, H. A. Ghis-
tin of 'Jewella told members of the sheriff's Separtment she would send
him a bird, It will be prépared for him today inthe kitchen at the
jail. But for his very last meal Carter wants 4 vartety ‘of foods,
'I'se not gonna eat much,' he said, 'I'se gonna eat ice cream, bananas
and drink a couple soda pops.' He plans to get out a new suit of cloth-
ing from his suitcase today and put it on after he has had a bath.
Thursday he mailed his pictures, He was rather secretive about the re-
ctpients but said that one of them would go to his RXKX¥ 'girl.' Carter
is to be hanged for murdering Mr. Morgan with a hammer one Sunday at
dusk. He robbed the aged man and escaped with $60 during a blinding
rainstorm, He was captured in Coushatta several days later on informa-
tion furnished by Sheriff Hughes."

TIMES, Shreveport, La., June 30, 1933, page one.

"NEGRO KILLER FORFEITS HIS LIFE TO THE STATE: SAMPSON CARTER, 26, HANGED
FOR BRUTAL SLAYING MARCH 5 OF W, M. MORGAN: His son's steady hand Fri-

day avenged the brutal slaying of W. M. Morgan, elderly filling station
operator, for whose murder Sampson Carter, 26-year-old negro, was hanged
in the Caddo parish jail Friday noon, \, M, Morgan, Jr., sprung the
trap at the execution, March 5 of this year Carter, using a hammer,
beat Morgan to death at the filling station he operated at the inter-
section of Texas and Allen Avenues, Carter was arrested in Coushatta a
few days later on information furnished by the sheriff'tg department
here, Carter, smiling to the last, was led from the death cell at 12:15
poem, by Sheriff Hughes, He was dressed in a freshly pressed suit end
greeted witnesses as he walked to the gallows, Morgsn pulled the
gallows release trigzer, Carter was led from the death cell at 12:15
pom, by Sheriff T, R, Hughes, He wes dressed in a freshly pressed suit
and greeted witnesses as he walked to his death. He was smoking a fresh
cigarette given him by Deputy Sheriff W 11 Prodhomme and his hands were
handcuffed behind him,
"HAS NOTHING TO SAY.
"tTell the world how I left,' he said, 'Tell tem I left lookingforward
to my Father.' ‘'Nossuh, ain't nothing for me to say,' Carter said in
answer to Sheriff Hughes! last question. ‘Just pray to the Lord and
meet me in glory.' Hardly had the noose been adjusted around his neck
and his legs and‘arms strapped before the trap was sprung, At 12:18
p.m. he dropped through the trap to the death as (?) Jarrett pulled
the gallows release trigger,
"NECK BROKEN BY FALL.
"His neck was broken by the fall, Dr. Harry W, Paul, assistant coroner,
and Dr. Pope W, Oden said, Fourteen minutes later he was pronounced
dead by Dr. Paul and his body was turned over to a negro undertaking
establishment. Showing no signs of nervousness, Mrs. C, R, Bostwick,
of Blanchard, a relative of Mr. Morgan , sat in a chair beside the
trap and watched the proceedings,
"KEEPS PIECE OF ROPE,

"Mrs, Bostwick retained a viece of the with C
hanged, as a souvenier, She said that TPP ores neLRTAe mene ehan fient

that he should be KEKKIKAY hanged." During a great part of the morning,

he eee

tee

~~ i

nets,

af 2 boy -JSb b/ joy > Psi D/P2>ZIAT

74
2

al a f..

NUDE & KNEELING!

£

The salesman saw her little smile and then...

 SHESHOTHIM —

z

/» by KEN CARPENTER ~

tiently for something strange and terrible to happen.» *~

But there was nothing at all sinister
or suggestive about that sunny field
in Louisiana one morning in 1940. On
the contrary it seemed such a place
where children would be happy to play
in. A little breeze stirred in the lush-
leaved trees and made shadow pat-
terns in the waving grass. The golden
southern sun shone radiantly, brightly
plummaged birds called to each other
and the whole scene suggested happi-

Her shaven head hidden under ©
a kerchief, Toni Jo calmly des-
cends the stairs to the death.
chamber accompanied by pri-
son chaplain, Father Richard. =

16

ness and the joy of life.

It was just that which made it all so
terrible and so weirdly evil. .Murder
in such a place seemed an affront to
all that was lovely in the world — a
crime against Nature itself. That was
why the group of uniformed police
which had just arrived upon the scene
stood shocked and silent. They had
found what they had come to find, but
even so, not one of them was prepared
for what they now saw. Hardened and
accustomed as they were to scenes of
bloodshed — there was something
different about it. :

There in the middle of the sunny -
“meadow where the birds sang above

his head was the man they had come

to find. He was dead but that was not. =
the reason the officers stood there ¢~

— white-faced and unmoving. The
dead man was not lying close to the
earth as dead men lie, There was some

DETECTIVE FILES MAGAZINE, JULY, 198h.

He

passer-by somehow manage to suggest the idea of tragedy and death. About them

A TT through the.country are places, lonely and hidden places, which to the casual
broods an atmosphere of unnatural quietness as if the very trees were waiting pa-

dreadful and evil mockery here —

some strange negation of all that is
ordinary and natural — some evil
denial of all that is good and normal.

The corpse was that of a big man
and he was stark naked. Near him was
a hay stack and before it — as before
an altar — the dead man was kneeling
in an attitude of prayer. It was as if
the. scene had been set in grotesque
and unholy mockery of all prayer and
all ordinary human aspiration. There
he was as if frozen into the dreadful
aridity of stone — his head bowed and

. his hands joined. No wonder the men

stood there silent in the glorious

‘Louisiana sunshine while all round
“them the birds sang carelessly and

blithely.

hate — murder for revenge or murder

Uncomfortably the officers glanced -
“at one another, With murder they were
~all too familiar-— murder for love or

for gain. But this was something
different. Something outside their

experience. This was the material and’
irrational manifestation of a type of *

mind that was alien and unknown to

e

x

them. The killer had not been moti-

vated by any ordinary human impulse.

Nor was this the result of any ordinary -

human planning. It was as if the
murderer had not killed for love or
hate or gain but had killed out of an
impulse that was wholly and comple-
tely evil — as a sacrifice to those
unsanctified powers that since the
beginning have warred for the soul of
man. To make that purpose clear the
corpse had been set up in a macabre
mockery of all prayer. Other than that
what could have been the purpose?

Girl’s colleague in crime, left,

is escorted to court by Sheriff ;
Henry Reid. Her ruthlessness .
repulsed even her partner.

iA

ORAS A Aen nie

FIENDS WHO WENT
TO THE CHAIR

As if to ask that question each man
turned his eyes to the girl that stood in

their midst. She was a tall, graceful -

‘ girl with an unnaturally white face that

was extraordinarily beautiful. Her hair
was black, and in contrast to the pale
face the red lips burned like embers.

> This was Anne McQuiston known in

the basement dives and vice dens of
of Shreveport, Louisiana, as Toni Jo.

It was she who had led the police here. :

It was she who had killed the kneeling

man and it was she who had stripped
him naked and had made him assume
this mocking posture.

**Why did you do it, Toni??? One

: of the police asked in awed tones.

“_- {tt just seemed like a good

idea,’ beautiful Toni Jo replied
when asked for a motive.

She turned gray eyes upon him
— eyes that were unreadable and ice
cold — and shrugged her shoulders.
She was the only calm and unmoved
person in the group.

“It just seemed like a good idea,”
she answered unemotionally and again
the beautiful mouth set in a close-
lipped silence. f

She was apparently totally uninter-

(continued on next page) .

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'man from Houston, Texas, was found in a

HENRY, Toni Jo, white, elec-
trocuted, Lake Charles, Lae;

THE
WEAKER SEX

THIS PRETTY 26-YEAR-OLD -
BRUNETTE, CONVICTED OF
ASHOCKING CRIME, MAKES
READY TO MEET DEATH IN
LOUISIANA’S WIRED CHAIR

INSIDE DETECTIVE, Noves 1926
ACK in February of 1940, the nude body

of Joseph P. Caliaway, a traveling sales-

Louisiana rice field. Callaway had been shot
dead, apparently for his car, for it was missing.

By tracing the car, the police finally caught
up with a girl named Toni Jo Henry. After
a grilling, the tough-talking beauty came out
with a confession that chilled the blood of
the officers questioning her.

She and a man companion,’ Finnon Burks,
had been hitch-hiking, she said, and Callaway
stopped and picked them up. It was Toni
Jo’s intention to rob a bank with Burks, and
in order to do that she needed a car. So she
held Callaway up, forced him to stop the car
and disrobe, then led him out into the field.

There, while Burks waited in the car, she shot the salesman
dead without mercy. She returned and they drove away.

The reason she wanted to rob a bank, she explained, was to
get money to help free her husband, “Cowboy” Henry, who was
in a Texas prison for killing a policeman.

“No one ever cared about me before him,”
guy is king of my heart.”

She described the wanton slaying with hardly a trace of
emotion. “I saw we were out of sight of traffic,” she said, “so I
told my pal that was as good a place as any to get rid of the
guy. I marched the man into the field and made him take his
clothes off. He sat down on a haystack and commenced talking
about how I’d go to the pen for what I was doing. So I let

er

#
3

she said. “That

him say his prayers, and then I shot him.”

“Why did you have to kill him?” she was asked.
“T didn’t want him to squeal on me for hi-jacking him,” she

replied.

“What did you get out of it?”
“I got the car, and my pal got a watch and $15.”

She said she had obtained her gun in an earlier robbery 0 of a
hardware store in Beaumont, Texas. ;

TON! JO HENRY sits comfortably in her cell in the jail at Lake Charles. Her victim
doesn’t return to haunt her, she says. “Fve known all along it would be my Hie.

for his. But why is it legal to kill me now?” ais

/

The police later caught up with Burks, who corroborated the
Henry woman’s story. And the pretty dark-haired girl, whose
ruthless slaying of a man who had befriended her had shocked iid
the nation, was sentenced to die in the electric chair. sabe

Still in jail at this writing, Toni Jo was scheduled to be
electrocuted in the state’s new portable death chair on August
10, but was granted a stay of sentence. She is preparing to
die, she says, but doesn’t like it. ~She knows it was not legal
for her to kill Callaway, but she can’t understand why it is any
more legal for the state to kill her in return.

She says she was forced into a life of shame at 13, and
became a drug addict at 16. She never even finished grade
school, and her companions were crooks and gunmen. The
man she married was in jail for murder.

No, Toni Jo Henry didn’t have much of a chance. But she
had more of a chance than did good-hearted Joseph Callaway,
who gave a couple a ride only to be murdered in return for his
kindness.

The State of Louisiana can’t forget that. And although in
the South they are reluctant to execute women, the chances
are that by the time these words are read, Toni Jo Henry will
have gone to her doom.

SERBS “cee te

«

alt agh Eg BE eS

Sodcgey

PRES ESP PRB NOIRE Basi 9 i ope OG, I

aN

ested in the cops or in their reactions,
or, in the scene itself. It was as if she
had lost all interest in everything,
including herself and her own fate. As
if she was playing a part in a dream.

‘‘But you stripped him,’’ another
awed voice put in.

She nodded and the shadow of a
cold smile distorted the beautiful
mouth. ‘‘Yes. That seemed like a good
idea too.”’

None there asked in what spirit of
obscene mockery had she forced the
naked man to his knees. There are
some questions it is better to leave
unasked. Three or four of the men
remained behind and the others, with
Toni Jo in their midst, left to return
her to her cell.

The dead man’s name was Joseph
Calloway and he was a salesman. Like
many of his kind he was an easy-going
smiling extrovert — always ready to
do a good turn for friend or stranger.
It was this good-natured instinct of his
that brought him his fatal contact with
Toni Jo. He was one of those that
enjoyed life, and he believed that, with
all its drawbacks and obstacles, it was
well worth living. He also believed that
the majority of people were good and
basically kind. In fact, his outlook was
the direct opposite of that held by Toni
Jo. His meeting with her looked like
chance and accident, but perhaps it
was fated from the beginning and he,
the destined victim, had set out that
day to meet his destined murderer.

The story itself begins in the city of
Shreveport, in Louisiana, where Anne

_ Beatrice McQuiston was born. Her

background and breeding from a
biological and social viewpoint was
all that might be desired. Her parents
were well known and respected in the
community and had always shown
themselves as good neighbors and
good citizens. Her uncle was Captain
McQuiston, of the State Police.
From the very beginning the girl had
everything in her favor, but from the
very beginning she seemed to resent
her parents and the environment into
which she was born. She was what the
biologists call a ‘‘sport’’ which
occasionally are born to respectable

families and have nothing at all in.

common with them.

Anne at the age of 12 had the
physical development of a girl six years
older. Also she had the glandular im-
pulses of an 18-year-old girl and gave
no sign of wishing to control them.
Occasionally she ran away from home,
and then usually was found parading
the sidewalks in the less respectable
quarters of Shreveport. Her neighbors

18

watched the progress of the long-
legged tomboy and shook their heads
doubtfully. Her parents, not being
psychologists or sociologists, watched
with a mixture of hope and fear. It
seemed to them that this cold-eyed
teenager was something that they never
would understand. They only could
hope for the best.

At 14, Toni had all the physical
appearance of a grown woman and it
was at this age that she ran away from
home — this time for good. It is
indicative of her character that the first
job she sought and found was that of
hostess in one of Shreveport’s many
cheap dance halls. That the place had
a bad reputation did not trouble her.
Even at that age she was well able to

take care of herself. It was at this time’

also she dropped the name Anne
McQuiston and became Toni Jo. This
final break with her family was
symbolic also. .

Soon, the cheap glamour of the
dance hall faded — such a place was
too slow for her. She had the physical
appetites and the glandular urges
which could not be satisfied in such a
job. Coldly, she decided to become a
prostitute in the redlight district of the
city. Here she soon became well
known and very much sought after.
Her extraordinary beauty became the
small talk of all the youngbloods and
she had many offers of marriage. But
marriage didn’t interest Toni Jo. It
sounded altogether respectable.

Being the kind of a girl men talk
about and seek, her favors were priced
high and soon she was a familiar sight
upon the streets, indifferent to stares
and whispers. Even then there was talk
about her insatiable sexual appetites
and her cynical attitude toward her
partners of the hour. Men loved her
but were never really comfortable with
her. Those gray eyes were altogether
too cold.

For nine years, that was her life, and
by now she was as well known as the
mayor of the town himself. A graceful,
lovely and intelligent girl, but from
every other point of view, a moral
imbecile. One, who, when presented
with two alternatives always chose the
more evil.

It was some time during those years
that shé also contracted the dope habit.
Why an intelligent person like her
should be caught in this snare it is
difficult to say, but anything that was
abnormal had for her a morbid
attraction. Her nights were spent in
one or other of the plush bagnios, and
her days in.the basement dives. It

might have gone on forever like that ,

had she not at the age of 23 met a
character called Cowboy.

This fellow was about Toni’s own
age. In a small way he’d been around,
too. Not around the ranches and
round-ups of the West, however. He
had acquired his name by merely
wearing a cowbot outfit along the skid-
rows of many cities. He was a big,
husky fellow with an overdeveloped
ego and a ten gallon hat. With the hat
and the cowboy boots he wore an

-almost perpetual smile. The smile was

a sort of camouflage, because actually,
he had a mean streak in him. At
present he was out on bail for the
murder of Arthur Sinclair, a San
Antonio police officer.

One wouldn’t be very far wrong in
describing Cowboy as a cheap phony
from start to finish. One of that type
one meets in towns and villages in the
West and South; who put on a cowboy

“ act for the visiting innocent and who

*

have never seen a ranch in all their
misspent, useless lives.

‘It was the irony of Fate that Toni
Jo should fall in love with this
character. That was to prove her final
downfall, That act of falling in love
was a contradiction to the whole bent
of her life. Had it not happened she
might have died peacefully somewhere

; in Shreveport, a forgotten old woman,

whose days of shoddy glory no one

remembered.

As it was, she fell in love with

, Cowboy Henry and his windy tales of

a non existent Far West. This strange
girl really loved the loud-mouthed
braggart. To prove it she went through
the undoubted agony of quitting the
dope. She succeeded, as she put it
herself, in ‘‘getting rid of the monkey
on her back.’’ This accidental meeting
with Henry was to change Toni’s
whole life, and for a time at least, to
change her whole attitude.

Naturally, she was shocked to learn
that her lover was waiting trial for
murder. But not for a moment did that
make any difference. She was sticking
to him no matter what happened, and
on a day in 1940 they were married. A
few days later the Cowboy stood up
in court to answer for the murder of
the policeman. It didn’t take long. He
was as guilty as hell, and the sentence
was fifty years. Toni Jo was there and
watched her lover as they took him
from the court down into the cells.

Fifty years was a long time. It was
a life time, and Toni Jo knew it. The
only man she had ever loved was gone
for good and the cold eyes grew colder
and the lovely hard mouth grew
harder. All the previous hatred of the

world and its way now seemed justified

~ and right.

From that day when the Cowboy
disappeared into the big prison at
Huntsville, Texas, she was obsessed
by the one urgent idea. It was an idea
that pressed her night and day. By
hook or crook, fair means or foul, she
would free him from his prison cell.

Quickly she disappeared from her
usual haunts and went to Beaumont,
Texas. This was the city nearest the
place where her lover was confined.
Once there, she began her schemes to
free him. At first she tried every legal
means in her power and there were
appeals one after another. But Texas
justice knew more about the Cowboy
than did Toni Jo. The murder of the
San Antonio cop had been a deliberate
and brutal job and there was no one
to listen to any plea in his favor.
Moreover such appeals cost money
and now her money was all gone. It
began to look as if the Cowboy was
doomed to serve out what was prac-
tically a life sentence.

But, for good or evil, Toni Jo was a
determined woman. She had no
intention of giving up. Since fair
means had failed, she was determined
to try foul. Her urge, now, in the face
of failure, became almost psycho-
pathic in its intensity and compulsion.
It was as if this very intensity drew to
her, as a magnet draws a needle, a
person by the name of Harold Finnon
Burks.

This character knew a good deal
about Huntsville Prison since he had
spent quite a few years there himself.
How Toni met him is not known but
he pointed out to her that the prison
was a strong one. He pointed out that
for a successful break, money, guns
and a fast car were needed. From the
very first Toni Jo exercised over him
a strange and malign influence. Burks
himself was to say later that all the
time he felt as if he had been in a state
of hypnosis. .

That is likely enough when we
remember the kind of a girl she was.
Burks, whose home was in Arkansas,
told her, from the very first, that there
was little or no hope, but that he,
himself, was ready to do anything that
lay in his power.

-This was strange in itself. He was
an ex-convict who did not know the
Cowboy and therefore owed him
nothing. Yet here he was willing to risk
his life without any hope of reward
— because the girl asked him to. It
did not seem to make sense. Burks was
neither humanitarian nor hero. Neither
was he in love with Toni Jo. Yet he

shoved his neck out as far as it would
go when she told him to do so.

A small hardware store supplied the
guns. While Toni Jo kept watch, Burks
broke in and stole them with the
necessary amount of ammunition.
Next, the desperate girl cased a small
bank over the line in Arkansas which
she knew two people could take. There
she knew the necessary money could
be found. But, for the bank heist they
needed a car!

It was raining on the evening when
the two left Beaumont. They had
planned to hitch a ride and then ditch
the owner and take the car. That
would be easy since they were both
well armed. But it was raining and no
one was inclined to stop to give the

Attempts to free husband

‘Cowboy’ Henry from jail caus-

ed prostitute to embark ona
wild crime spree.

pair a lift. They had almost determined
it was no use when a new Ford coupe
drew up and its smiling owner invited
them to ride.

It was Joe Calloway, of Huston,
Texas. He was on that road by the
merest chance. In driving that new
Ford coupe he was merely obliging a
sick friend who was to deliver it to a
little town in Louisiana. The way there
led through Beaumont, and ahead of
him through the heavy rain he saw the
two figures. As has been said, he was
a good natured fellow and it was only
natural for him to pull up and invite
them to ride. He noted that the girl
was extraordinarily lovely and no
doubt wondered what she and her

companion were doing along that lo-
nely road on such an evening.

Burks was to say later that Joe
Calloway was a real nice fellow and
that he (Burks), would not have
injured him in a thousand years. That
is likely true enough.

Burks was not overly intelligent, but
he had noted that during the past week
there had been marked psychological
changes in Toni Jo. She had become

more embittered than ever and seemed ,

to resent the pressures that life was
putting on her. Moreover she had
become doubtful about the success of
her scheme and did not seem to care.
Now that the Cowboy was away from
her she was reverting to type. The
world was her enemy and she the
enemy of the world.

As they rode along over the state
border and into Louisiana, the
salesman taked lightly about this and
that and it was Burks who answered.
The girl sat silent. Then suddenly she
whipped out the gun and ordered the
astonished salesman out on the road.
That was part of the plan, and
although Burks was sorry he was in
no way surprised. From here he and
Toni Jo would go north, cross the line
into Arkansas, and there hold up the
bank.

But he sat wide-eyed and silent as
the girl also got out and at pistol point
ordered Calloway to cross into the rain
wet meadow. Burks watched the pair
cross the field and watched as the man
stripped and knelt down. He said he
saw Toni smile as the bullet ripped
through the head of the kneeling man.
In horror he watched as she fixed him
into a kneeling position and then
returned to the car.

Once seated, she bitterly cursed the
poor dead man because she had gotten
her feet wet. In doubt and fear Burks
eyed his beautiful companion, know-
ing, stupid as he was, that this crime
was altogether unnecessary. He was
afraid of her now, and like many
others, did not understand that Toni
Jo had done this frightful thing to
forever put an unbridgeable gap
between her and normal people. This
brutal and altogether unnecessary
murder had put between her and the
world she hated a psychic chasm that
never could be crossed. Now there was
no turning back.

Like all people, she had been
conscious of the struggle between good
and evil that goes on within and
without. Since love had come to her
the forces of good had been triumph-

(continued on page 42)
: 19


‘| Buried Those Missing Beachgirls’

(continued from page 40) 4

got into a fit of anger when he discov-
ered Mrs. Ling. According to Gore’s
confession, Waterfield immediately
tied ropes to her neck and feet so that
if she struggled, she would strangle.

Then Waterfield allegedly took the
teenager to his car and raped her while
her mother slowly began to strangle
and turn blue. ‘I could see she was
dying,’ Gore later confessed.

Gore received a fee of $400, how-
ever. Then he took off leaving the
dead women with Waterfield... who
had second thoughts about those
corpses.

At 8 p.m. the next evening, Water-

dispose of the bodies. Gore, familiar
with all grove equipment, stole a
backhoe and dug a hole. Waterfield
pulled up with two drums in his truck.

It was right here that Gore began to
seal his fate. He dropped his binocu-
lars, or they fell from his belt hook.

He also left the backhoe at the scene, .

the one never reported by the ‘Deputy’
as stolen.

After taking a 30-page confession
from Gore, the police got a vivid and
accurate story from the 13-year-old
allegedly molested by the two men.

‘She filled in final details identify-

—

ing these men. It was all the identical,
chilling story... the man with the badge
investigating non-happening crimes

* who had to be obeyed.
field allegedly phoned Gore asking to ~

‘The same guy, a model citizen
made a deputy, the guy helping us look
for bodies. It was a deception that
really worked.”’

Waterfield’s lawyer argued that

‘Gore ‘‘framed and faked” implicating

his client who, ironically, had never
had a brush with the law.

A grand jury chose not to believe
the lawyer’s explanation. Both
suspects were indicted for murder and
kidnapping.

Until David Gore and Fred Water-
field have been tried in a court of law,
they must be considered innocent of
charges against them.

She Shot Him Nude & Kneeling!

(continued from page 19)

ing, and it was of that she was afraid.
It was because of that she had killed
the man and had set him up in
mockery. Now, whatever happened,
she herself was forever wholly and
completely dedicated to Evil.

In silence the rain-bedraggled pair
sat there until curtly she ordered him
to start the car. Then it was that Burks
refused. A bank hold up or a prison
break was all right with him — it was
something he could understand. But
a weird, unnecessary crime like this
was beyond him and he had the
courage to say so.

It took courage too, because all the
time the gun was on him, and he knew
that to this girl one or half a dozen
murders meant nothing. But for some
strange reason she did not shoot.
Instead she battered him into uncon-
sciousness with the butt of the gun and
then, leaving him in the car, she
walked into town. After a while Burks
revived and drove the car into Arkan-
sas.

Later she was to say she was sorry
she had not killed him.

Toni Jo had now become a very
dangerous woman. One who had
thrown off all restraint — thrown off
all inhibitions, and now scorned the
laws of God and man. Losing all hope
of freeing her lover she quickly
reverted to her old ways.

But the cheap life had lost all at-
traction. She moved coldly among the
prostitutes and con-men, the drunks
and the drug addicts. But now she was
a woman apart. Between her and them

42

was the unbridgeable gap of murder.
The pale face became paler and the
cold eyes colder. Toni Jo was now,
and of her own free will, a lost soul.
And Toni Jo knew it.

Meanwhile the police of the cities
and the State of Louisiana were
looking for Joe Calloway and looking
for the car he drove. Both had
disappeared as if the earth had opened
and swallowed them. Among the po-
lice engaged in the search was Captain
McQuiston of the Louisiana State
Police, the uncle of Toni Jo. Day after
day the search went on but there were
no clues. It’s likely a very long time
might have elapsed without result if
something had not occurred as
inexplicable as the murder itself.

A physician might have explained
that the life and irrational actions of
the girl were entirely due to a hyper-
active glandular condition. To put it
plainly, she was a nymphomaniac who
could not live without men even
though she hated them. Therefore her
inordinate sexual desires led her to live
the life she lived and that explanation
seems good enough as far as it went.

But it did not go far enough. There
were many things it left unexplained
and among these was the senseless
killing of the stranger — Joe Callo-
way. Between him and the girl there
had been no tie-up — and no purpose,
sexual or otherwise, could have been
served by his death. Here the psychia-
trist'steps forward and points out that
from the beginning Toni Jo had hated
her father and that hatred had been

transferred to Calloway. The latter
represented to her all that her father
had represented and therefore she had
killed him. He was the father’s image
and in destroying him she had des-
troyed all that her real father had
represented.

The real love that she had for her
father was transferred in turn. To
whom? To Captain McQuiston of the
State Police. From her childhood she,

. had known this big handsome man.

To a child he was the acme of all that
was glamorous in his handsome
uniform. He never reproved her and
never disciplined her as her real father
had done. Therefore she had acquired
for him a love that was half natural
and half incestuous. But the Captain
was a busy man - far too busy to take
any notice of his long-legged, good-
looking niece. So her advances to him
went unnoticed and unheeded, and
yet, deep down in her, was a great fund
of unused father love that could find
no outlet.

That would in a way explain the
mental and emotional coldness and
cynicism as far as other men were
concerned. Her whole life therefore
was a hunt for one who would take
the place of the father she had
deliberately turned away from. That
hunt was unsuccessful, as we have
seen, until she met Cowboy. Her love
for him might have been genuine
enough, but her real love she had yet
to find. Her uncle was a cop and not
a psychologist, and therefore had no
way of knowing how the girl felt about
him. Whether she herself was aware
of this abnormal love is hard to say,
but the theory of the psychiatrist was
strengthened by what was to happen

(continued on next page)

She Shot Him Nude & Kneeling!

(continued fro

in the next few days.

Burks was in Arkansas and not
likely to talk. The police themselves
had acknowledged that their search
was at a dead end. It’s quite possible
that the murder would never have been
discovered if Toni Jo, herself, had not
talked. That is exactly what she did.
And her strange love for her uncle is
the only thing that explains the fact.

She had gone to visit him one day
and the two were talking. Captain
McQuiston had told her about the

search and its result. He was disap- °

pointed because, to a great extent, the
responsibility of finding the man rested
with him. Toni must have sat there and
watched his tired face, and before she
knew, she was talking. Not confessing
— mind you — but just trying to help

_ him out and bring peace to his worn

face. She loved him, and here perhaps
was the master key to all the strange
conflicts and contradictions that was
the mind of Toni Jo. Unless we accept
that theory then the whole business
remains inexplicable.

While the horrified man listened,
she told him the whole sordid tale.
Actually it was a calm recital rather
than a confession. No one had asked
her and no one had forced her. She
was doing it under a compulsion
which perhaps even she did not un-
derstand. Certainly Captain McQuis-
ton did not. Frozen into silence he
listened and watched her. Occasionally
she smiled — a cold smile that came
and went with a rhythm of its own.
When it was all over he continued to
stare at her — stared at her in horror
and disbelief. He didn’t want to
believe, but there was no other way to
find it. Everything she had told him
fitted in with what he already knew of
the case.

‘Apart from that — apart from the
words and the facts there was some-
thing about those cold gray eyes that
told him she was not lying — that this
was no made-up story. He had never
understood her and now less than ever.
Even so, it was hard for him to think
that this good-looking girl — his own

niece — was a killer. For a long time:

he sat there unable to make up his
mind. The girl sat opposite, and as
usual she was calm and quiet. Then at
last he rose and together they went to
the Sheriff’s Office where once again
Toni Jo told her story.

The result is what we have seen. She
led the officers, and her uncle, out to

m page 42)

that sun-soaked meadow. Out to
where her victim still knelt in mockery.

Soon after, Burks was arrested in
Arkansas and brought back to the
same jail wherein the girl was held.
Almost hysterically, Burks protested
his innocence of the crime. The other
charges against him he readily admit-
ted. But wildly, he claimed he had no
knowledge of what the girl had done.
Hearing this, Toni Jo smiled and
remarked that it was Burks himself
who had done the killing. Later on she
was to change this and admit sole
responsibility.

Now when the details of the sense-
less crime became known all Louisiana
was in ferment. Men could talk of little
else and the papers could write of
nothing else. Psychologists were
consulted and various theories put
forth, but the ordinary person was at
a loss to understand why a young and
very beautiful girl should commit such
a hideous crime for no reason at all.
It was unnatural — and that was just
the word for it.

Both newspapers and public now
demanded that Toni Jo and Burks
should pay the penalty. It was decided
to try them separately. Toni Jo was
first, and seldom had any courtroom
in Louisiana or elsewhere been the
locale of such a dramatic scene.
Seldom or perhaps never was such a
beautiful girl seen in any dock. Day
after day she sat there and to all
appearances was wholly indifferent to
what was taking place around her. It
was as if she said: Do with me what
you will. I am tired of the whole thing.

The prosecuting attorney made a
virulent attack. The defense attorney
made emotional appeals. The jury
weighed the evidence and brought
back a degree of guilty in the first
degree. The sentence therefore was
mandatory and Anne McQuiston was
solemnly sentenced to die.

Next came Harold Burks and he also
was sentenced to die. Thereafter came
the usual appeals but all were in vain.
Over two years passed, and the
sentences stood.

While each waited in the death cell
another sensation occurred. Sensations
of all kinds seemed to have followed
in the track of the unusual Toni Jo. A
week before the scheduled execution,
Cowboy Henry, who by now had been
almost forgotten, made a daring
escape from Huntsville Prison. He
leaped upon a truck in the prison yard

and knocked out the driver. Then at
top speed he tore through the prison
gate and was on the road for Beau-
mont, on the way to St. Charles, La.,
where Toni was confined.

Almost immediately the escape was
broadcast and Henry did not stand a
chance. He reached Beaumont, all
right, and there very foolishly regis-
tered at a well known hotel. That night
the police threw a cordon around the
building and almost before he knew
it, the Cowboy was on his way back
to Huntsville.

Toni Jo heard of the attempt but
seemed uninterested. She smiled coldly
and made no comment.

Meanwhile, public opinion had
changed somewhat in her favor and
various organizations sought reprieves.
It was pointed out that the method of
execution had recently been changed
from hanging to electrocution. No
woman had ever been executed in the
electric chair in that state and Toni Jo
should not be the first. Newspaper
men made bets on the outcome, and
the odds were that she would get a
reprieve.

But the girl herself did not seem to
care. She did send a message to her
lover in Huntsville telling him to
behave himself and to walk out the
front door when the time came for him
to leave the prison. It is to be assumed
that he took her advice. Anyway he
made no further attempt at jailbreak.

Slowly the days went by and the
fatal morning of November 18, 1942,
came. Calmly she went about her
preparations in the cell and when the
time came she was ready. She even had
a smile for the photographers. Among
the people there were many who
openly regretted that one so young and
beautiful had to die. It was even said
that in prison she had undergone a
complete spiritual transformation and
was now a normal well-adjusted
person.

It was Toni herself who gave the lie
to this piece of well-intentioned
hokum. Gracefully she walked down
the steps into the basement chamber
where the portable electric chair was
set up. She was smoking a cigaret and
as she sat down a reporter asked her
if she had anything to say. While the
straps were being tightened she turned
her freezing gray eyes upon him and
then, leaning forward, with all the
strength of her lungs, she spat the butt
straight between his eyes. It was her
last gesture to the world she both hat-
ed and despised. Two minutes later
Toni Jo was dead. x

43

"38, “He told me,” she said, “that the

name he used in prison was Lloyd Adams, .

but I don’t think that’s his real one. Also,
I remember him saying he had relatives
living in Warren, Ark., about .a hundred
miles east of Camden.”

The Calcasieu Parish officers notified
Agent-in-Charge Paul Kitchin, of the
New Orleans office of the FBI, since
Arky had obviously violated the National
. Auto Theft Act. Kitchin assigned Agent
E. L. Richmond to the case, and Richmond

quickly learned that Arky’s true name.

was Harold Finnon Burks. b

Assisted by Sheriff C. W. Hickman, of
Warren, Richmond found and arrested
Burks on a farm owned by a relative
outside. Warren, and the fugitive was
returned to Lake Charles.

‘Burks’ story of the Calloway murder
was a complete contradiction of Toni Jo’s.

According to Burks, the girl had done the .

shooting, without his knowledege until
it was all over. After that, he declared, he
only waited for a chance to get away
from her in the stolen car. He said he
drove first to Texarkana, Tex., where he
pawned the two .38s and then to Arkadel-
phia, Ark., where he abandoned the car
and sold Calloway’s watch.

The Calcasieu Parish authorities were
inclined to believe Burks. After all, Toni
Jo had carried the murder gun when
picked up. Burks, under the law, was also
guilty of murder, since he had entered
into the conspiracy with Toni Jo that
had resulted in Calloway’s death. Both
were charged with the crime and their
trials were scheduled for March.

But in the interim, Sheriff Reid lived
up to his end of his pact with the girl.
He transported her to Beaumont, and
while he was on his way there, the
warden at Huntsville left the penitentiary
with her husband in tow.

The two met at the county jail in Beau-
mont—a' meeting charged with drama.
Toni Jo and Cowboy rushed into one
another’s arms and remained locked in
a passionate embrace. For a half hour,
the officers left them together, unob-

served, in a bolted and barred room, and.

what they did there is anybody’s guess.
Certainly they talked—and made plans.

Following the meeting, Cowboy was
returned to Huntsville and Toni Jo to the
parish jail at Lake Charles. In March,
both Burks and Toni Jo stood trial for
Calloway’s murder, were convicted and
sentenced to hang.

But in Toni Jo’s case the Louisian
’ Supreme Court upset the conviction and
ordered a new trial. Then the governor
awarded Burks a_ temporary
from execution so that he could testify
against Toni Jo when she again went be-
fore a jury.

In February, 1941, Toni Jo was tried
for a second time, and for a second time
sentenced to death. On this occasion,
however, she was slated for the electric
chair. But because the legislature had
changed the state’s method of execution,
the supreme court once more acted in the
girl’s favor, ordering the whole proceed-
ing to be repeated. Burks’ reprieve was
again extended for a third trial.

This was held in January, 1942, and
ended precisely as had the first two. Toni
Jo again appealed from the sentence of
death. Now, however, the Supreme Court
ruled against her, and the date of her
execution was fixed for August 9. Burks
remained under reprieve. The state wasn’t
taking the chance of being without its
chief witness until the prime mover in the
crime had been put-out of the picture.

In early July, at the request of the

80

reprieve .

press, Toni Jo accorded reporters a “fare-
well interview.” During the course of it,
she said of Cowboy: “He’s the .only
decent guy I’ve ever known. Every man
wants a hot woman, but few are willing
to marry them—and Cowboy did that.
Also, he got the drug monkey off my
back, and I love him for it. Before I die,
there’s only one thing I want—a word
from Cowboy.” , ,

To procure sucha word, the reporters
ran into difficulty. Cowboy was no longer
at Huntsville but had been transferred to
Texas’ Central Prison Farm No. 2, at
Sugar Land, near Houston.

A few days after the interview, Toni
Jo’s attorneys made a move which in-
sured her of at least a few more months
of life. They challenged the validity of
the law changing the state’s form of
execution from hanging to electrocution,
and now that had to be argued before the
Supreme Court. Toni Jo’s date with death
was moved up from August 9 to Satur-
day, November 28.

The summer passed, and in the fall the

Supreme Court ruled against the latest

argument of Toni Jo’s lawyers. Came
November, and it looked as though the
girl had exhausted her last resource. On
November 20, Toni Jo called Acting
Sheriff Henry Reid, Jr. (in the absence
of his father) to her cell and said she
wanted to make a confession.

It had been she and she alone, she de-

_ clared, who’d shot Calloway, and Burks

had been horrified by her action. “If I
can, I’d like to save poor Arky’s life,” she
went on. “The Bible says, ‘An eye for an

eye’—not two for one. Burks’ sentence of
death was subsequently commited to life

imprisonment.

Over the weekend, Louisiana’s portable
electric chair was brought -to ‘Lake
Charles and set up in a room on the first
floor of the parish jail—a room directly
beneath Toni Jo’s cell on the second floor.
Somehow, the girl learned of these prep-
arations, but she remained complacent
and seemed resigned to her fate. Monday
dawned. Toni Jo’s execution was only
five davs away.

But at 11 a.m. Monday, an incident oc-

curred 200 miles away which had a dis-

tinct bearing of the matter. At that hour,
G. W. Woods, superintendent of the
power plant of the Sugar Land, Texas,
prison farm, drove a Chevrolet pickup
truck into the farm’s laundry compound
and alighted from it. As he did so, two
burly convicts rushed him. They over-

| powered Woods, grabbed the truck and

went roaring toward the compound gate.
They crashed through the gate and raced
for the highway to Houston. Guards be-
gan firing, but the Chevvy pickup dis-
appeared in the distance.

A check identified the escaped convicts
as Claude (Cowboy) Henry and 23-year-
old Clyde Byers. Capt. Buck Flanagan,
head of the prison farm, telephoned an
alarm to the Houston police, and from
there it was quickly flashed for hundreds
of miles.

If this news set the State of Texas on
its ear, it caused even further turbulence
in Lotisiana. Toni Jo had killed a man
during an aborted plot to free Cowboy
from prison, and now Cowboy had sprung
himself and was on his way to save Toni
Jo from the chair. :

“Cowboy’s crazy if he thinks he can do
it,” Toni Jo told one of her warders. “But
he’s just the kind of guy to try.”

Lake Charles Police Chief Ed Baggett
put his force on 24-hour duty. Acting
Sheriff Reid doubled the guards around
the parish jail and deputized a hundred
volunteers to patrol the roads in the

é

vicinity. The state police moved in more
troopers armed with sub-machine guns
and set itp floodlights around the jail.

For the rest of Monday there was no
trace of Cowbgy, but on Tuesday after-
noon a stool pigeon informed Buster
Kern, chief of detectives in Houston, that
he had seen and talked with the fugitive
on a Houston street.

Cowboy, the stoolie said, was getting
together arms and a force of men for an
invasion of Lake Charles. The plan was
to kidnap Judge Mark Pikrel and Judge
John T. Hood, two of the jurists who had
sentenced Toni Jo to death, and hold them
for ransom—the ransom being the girl’s
freedom. If Toni Jo was executed, Cow-
boy would kill his hostages. i

Chief Kern phoned this information to

the Lake Charles authorities, and guards’

were thrown around the Judges’ homes.
Their wives were accompanied shopping
by armed men and other armed men
escorted their children to and from school.

Two hours later, Houston police got
another tip, indicating that Cowboy had
not succeeded in recruiting any important
number of followers, if any at all. The
tip had it that Cowboy had been seen
hitchhiking, alone and dressed in khaki
clothes, on the Houston-Beaumont high-
way.

Then, on Tuesday night, Cowboy was ’

seen again on a Beaumont street corner.
Clearly, he was working his way east-
ward. Now Lake Charles lay only 66 miles
off. Outside Beaumont, on the highway to
Louisiana, the police set up a barricade,
stopped every motorist and searched
every car.

At the same time, within the city of
Beaumont, squads of heavily armed of-
ficers roamed the streets and combed
every hotel and rooming house. The
search continued throughout the night
and ended successfully at 7 o’clock
Wednesday morning.

At that hour, Capt. George White
checked the Hotel Chandler, across from
the Southern train depot in Beaumont.
Its-_proptietor told him that at 11 the night
before, a man answering Cowboy’s de-
scription but giving the name William
Harper, had registered and taken a room
on the second floor.

Captain White went up and broke in
the door of the room and found Cowboy
—unarmed and submissive. Yes, he ad-
mitted, his intention had been to save
Toni Jo from the chair, but he hadn’t
been able to get a gun or anyone to help
him. Captain White notified the Hunts-

ville watden, and before noon Cowboy —

had been whisked back to the prison, and
the adventure which had set two states
on edge was over.

At noon on Friday, 24 hours before she
was to go to the chair, Toni Jo was per-
mitted to have a last word with her hus-
band, over long distance telephone. She
talked from Sheriff Reid’s office in the
parish jail at Lake Charles, and Cowboy
talked from the office of the Huntsville
warden. yee

The shadow of death had changed Toni
Jo—mellowed her and taken the tiger out
of her. “I’m sorry you broke out, honey,
she told Cowboy. “You couldn’t have

‘done anything. I guess it just had to

happen this way. Please be a man. Get
rid of that zoot suit prison uniform. When
you get out of the pen, walk out the
front door. Go straight. Try to make
something of your life. Good-by, honey.

And good-by it was. At 12:05 p.m. on
Saturday, with her long raven-black hair
shaved from her head, Toni Jo was put
to death in the electric chair. ‘

bere acing GS aude bale

’
met

ie

MN:

4

&
f


bel

wee me 3 . " ar"

“Tite

re ene eee

1938. Another alias on his long record
of petty arrests was Kermit Haygood.

Southwestern police and the FBI
swung into action. The FBI was inter-
ested because if the stolen car had been
driven across the Arkansas line it was
a federal offense.

The search centered around Camden
and on February 15th, 1940, the car
was found on an Arkadelphia street. It
had been driven 1350 miles. On the
floor were half a dozen pistol cartridges,
a woman’s hair ribbon, lipstick and cig-
arette butts smeared with lipstick—
Toni’s.

Officers quizzed everyone who might
have seen the driver of the abandoned
car. The descriptions fitted those of

- Burks, or Adams. The officers tried his

mother’s home at Banks and drew a
blank.

When they tried his sister’s and Cap-
tain John W. Jones, of the Arkansas
state police, and Sheriff C. W. Hick-
man, of Worren, walked up to the door,
Burks came out and shook hands with
his captors!

Burks denied that he had anything to
do with the actual killing, and in Lake
Charles jail, the accused killers flew at
each other’s throats, each trying to pin
the blame on the other. Toni wouldn’t
be tried with him jointly, got a sever-
ance, and went to trial first on March
27, 1940.

She came into court wearing a fur-
coat and a defiant smile. The courtroom
was packed with curious folks who
came to see the “Tiger Girl” get the
works. One member of the jury before
testimony was completed, smiled at a
friend and drew his hand across his

. throat in a cutting gesture.

A jury deliberated seven hours and
convicted Toni Jo of murder. She was
sentenced to die in the electric chair.
Several weeks later, Burks also received
the death sentence.

Neither was ready to die yet. Toni
Joe’s lawyers filed an appeal. She was
granted a new trial. This time, Burks
testified against her. She was again
sentenced to die. Her attorneys obtain-
ing a third trial, on January 24th, 1942.
Again she was convicted and sentenced
to die. Her execution date was set for
Saturday, November 28th, 1942. Despite
the fact that he had turned stool pig.

eon, Burks had no better luck. He also

remained scheduled for death.

Eight days before her date with the
electric chair, Toni Jo resigned herself
to the inevitable. She assumed respon-
sibility for Joseph Calloway’s death, in
an attempt to exonerate Burks. Of Cow-
boy Henry, she said, “That guy is king
of my heart. Nobody ever really cared
about me until he came along. The
only thing I’m sorry about is, that I
can’t say good-bye to him before I go.”

The Cowboy determined that she |
48 .

- about”

should have the opportunity—and then
some. He felt responsible for getting
her into trouble. Deciding that “turn-
was only fair play, he decided
to get her out—to spring her from her
death cell at Lake Charles.

Six days before her execution date,

the Cowboy and another convict knock-

ed out the driver of a laundry truck
that had entered the prison, smashed
through the gates with it, and headed
toward Lake Charles.

The truck was found abandoned six
miles away. But the Cowboy continued
his quest east.

An intensive search was organized by
police along the route. When he was
not found. the Lake Charles and coun-

ty police went on 24-hour duty, sui
rounding the small jail. Floodlight
illumined its yard all night.

Toni Jo knew her husband didn’t
have a chance. “He’s crazy if he thinks
he can set me free,” she confided. But
she refused to eat or to sleep, and stood
at her cell window all night, ready to
scream warning if he came. A report
was received that a high-speed car had
been stolen less than 20 miles away.
Cowboy Henry apparently was ap-
proaching his rendezvous with destiny.
That night posses of armed citizens
patrolled Lake Charles and approach-
ing roads. Meanwhile, lawmen honey-
combed the area all the way to Houston.

On Thursday morning, three days
after the Cowboy’s escape, he was iden-
tified as the man who had registered
late the night before in a small hotel

near the railroad depot in Beaumont,.

Texas, about 20 miles from Lake
‘Charles. Police surrounded the hotel
with submachine guns, while others
crept up the narrow stairs, and threw
open the door.

Cowboy Henry knew when he was
licked. He threw up his hands, and
readily admitted his identity. Also, his
attempt to rescue Toni Jo. He pleaded
to be allowed to telephone her before
his return to Huntsville. But his request
was denied.

But the public had taken the roman- -

tic couple to its heart, instigated by

widespread newspaper publicity. Law-

enforcement officials bowed to general
interest in the pair to the extent of al-

‘lowing the Cowboy to telephone her on

Friday, the day before her execution
date.

“I’m sorry you broke out, honey,” she
said. “You couldn’t have done anything.

“I guess it just had to happen this
way. Please be a good man and get rid
of that prison uniform. Go straight and
make something of your life. Goodbye.
honey.” Toni Jo hung up the phone,
happy and prepared to go to her death.

She showed no fear as she was led by
a priest down the concrete stairway to
the execution chamber. which had been.

way, made it an impossibility.

especially prepared in the county jail.
Only once had she expressed any fur-
ther emotion—when the prison barber
prepared to shave her head, she asked,
“Do you have to do that?” She request-
ed, and was allowed to wear a bandanna
over her head until she was strapped in
the electric chair. She died without fear
in the electric chair, on November 28th,
1942. Harold Barks was executed the
following March.

If things had been different, possibly
Toni Jo and the Cowboy would have
made a go of it. But it was already too
late when they first met. And Toni Jo,
by her brutal killing of Joseph Callo-

THE END

“| JOINED A GIRL GANG!”

: ( Continued:from page 25)

That scared me.

“So we'll have to get some pieces,
too,” Tim said. “Just in case they
bring any.”

“No,” I said. “‘That’s real trouble.
What if someone gets burned?”’

“Well, what am I going to do?” Tim -

said. “You want the Rockers to chick-
en out?”

I didn’t want that. You can’t ask
boys to act like they’re afraid. They’ve
got pride. But I knew if both gangs
used pieces someone was going to get
hurt. “Why didn’t you tell them it had
to be a fair fight?” I asked. -

“I did,” Tim said. ‘“‘But I don’t trust
them. They ‘need the pieces to make
them brave.”

““You remember that rumble up in
the Bronx last month?” I said.

Tim remembered it all right. Two
Bronx gangs got together and a boy
was shot. He died in a hospital. And

four of the gang leaders were charged

with murder. They were jailed for life.

“IT don’t want that to happen to
you,”’’ I said.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I can take
care of myself.”’

“T know it,” I said. “But something
can go wrong, can’t it?”

Tim just shrugged his shoulders.

I didn’t like the whole setup. That ~

hopped-up Brasso would be out to
shoot someone because he’d have to
show what a big man he was. And
using a piece is the only way he could
do it.

But what could Tim do? If the
Rockers didn’t show up for the rumble
everyone would say he was afraid. And
if the Rockers did show up they’d
have to bring pieces, too, so they
could stand off Brasso.

The rumble was set for Friday night
in a lot where they’d just torn down
some old tenements.

And on Thursday Tim told me he
had bought some pieces. ‘“‘Not zips,
either,”’ he said.

- dies ee

= asia


Me
&

’

name of Sarah Brennan.

Why? Brennan asked himself
this question: If the Farmers had
bought the house the previous Oc-
tober, why had not the renewed fire
insurance been made out in their
name?

AT 9 O'CLOCK THE NEXT MORNING,
when the doors of the Jefferson
County clerk’s office, in Watertown,
opened for the day’s business, Pat-
rick Brennan was the first member
of the public to pass through them.
He asked to see the papers relating
to the purported sale of the Sarah
Brennan property in Paddy’s Hill
but added cryptically to the attend-
ant who served him, “It may be
that you won’t find any such rec-
ord.”

A few minutes later, however,
the attendant came back to the
counter bearing the papers request-
ed. According to the documents,
Sarah Brennan, on October 31st,
1907, had deeded to James Farmer
a dwelling, barn and five acres of
land in Paddy’s Hill. On the ensu-
ing November 9th, Farmer had
duly filed a copy of his deed with
the county clerk and had paid the
requisite fee. The papers bore the
name of Thomas Burns, a Water-
town attorney, for it had been
Burns who had drawn them up in
Farmer’s name.

Brennan returned the papers to
the attendant with a shaking hand.
As he left the clerk’s office, his
mood was one of near-desolation—
a mood befitting a man who had
just studied allegedly’ legal evi-
dence testifying to the duplicity of
a wom. ne’d loved and cherished
and trusted for 25 years. “But it’s
a lie!’ Patrick Brennan cried des-
perately and half aloud. “Sarah
wouldn’t have treated me like that
—I know her too well. If the Farm-
ers got her to deed over the proper-
ty, they must have forced her to,
one way or another. That lawyer
should know something—Burns...”

As it happened, Brennan was un-
able to locate Burns that Saturday,
for the attorney was out of town
for the weekend. In the afternoon,
he returned to Paddy’s Hill and
stood by while Jim and Mary Farm-
er moved their trunk and few
sticks of furniture from one house
to the other. Then he went back to
Watertown, spent Saturday and
Sunday nights in a hotel there and
called at Burns’ office the first thing
Monday morning.

The lawyer received him cordial-

y but told him a story which de-
pressed Brennan’ even _ further.
“Yes, Mr. Brennan,” Burns related,
“I drew up that deed for your wife
last fall—right here in this office. I
hadn’t known Mrs. Brennan before
but when she came to me, she told
me I'd been recommended by a
friend.”

“The Farmers weren’t with her?”

“I’ve never met the Farmers but

46

no one was with her. She came
alone.”

SUDDENLY, BRENNAN BROKE DOWN
completely and poured out his
heart to the lawyer. The man lis-
tened sympathetically and then
counseled, “I wouldn’t take it so
hard, Mr. Brennan. This isn’t the
first time this sort of thing has oc-
curred—a wife leaving her hus-
band. Indeed, it happens quite often
in cases where the woman is so
much yeunger than the man.”

“So much younger?” Brennan
looked up quickly.~‘What do you
mean?”

“IAook Mrs. Brennan to be a wo-
man in her thirties. As I remember
her, there wasn’t a streak of gray
in her hair or a line in her face. Now
let’s see how well I do recall her.
She was...”

As Burns described his October
visitor, the truth dawned on Bren-
nan. Obviously, it had not been
Sarah who had come to the lawyer
with the deed, but a woman possi-
bly 20 years her junior, who had
impersonated her and forged her
signature. This impersonator and
forger sounded very much like
Mary Farmer.

“But if that’s true,’ Brennan
cried out, once he’d communicated
his suspicions to Burns, “what have
the Farmers done. with Sarah? Now
I’m certain the whole story they’ve
been telling is a lie and I’m afraid
something awful has happened!”

Accompanied by the _ lawyer,
Brennan hunted up Ezra Hellinger,
the sheriff of Jefferson County. ‘The
three hurried out to Paddy’s Hill
and there Burns positively identi-
fied Mary Farmer as the woman
who, posing as Sarah, had engaged
him to make over the deed. The
sheriff placed both Farmers under
arrest and then began a thorough
search of the house they’d vacated
and the one they’d moved into.

The results of this search brought
about the realization of Patrick
Brennan’s worst fears. In the Farm-
er house, the sheriff found blood-
stains on the kitchen floor. At the
Brennan house, in the trunk the
Farmers had carried over on Sat-

urday, he found the body of Sarah .

Brennan, her skull crushed. At first,
Mary Farmer accused her husband
of killing Sarah but later, when an
autopsy had determined that the
woman had died three hours after
breakfasting the Thursday before
and Jim Farmer was able to prove
that at this precise time he’d been
busy laying a cement sidewalk in
a part of Paddy’s Hill distant from
his home, Mary changed her story
and confessed that it had been she
who had committed the actual act
of murder.

“I did it to get the property,” she
said. “Late last summer, I stole the
papers from Sarah’s closet and then
I began circulating the lie about her
planning to run off. I told her I'd
go to the dentist with her last

‘Thursday just to get her to stop by
my house. Soon after she came in,
while she was sitting in the kitchen
waiting for me to dress, I hit her
over the head with an ax.”

REGARDLESS OF THIS STORY, THE
prosecution charged both Farmers
with the crime. On May 14th, they
were indicted for first degree mur-
der. At the fall term of court, they
were accorded separate trials but
both were convicted and sentenced
to death. Mary Farmer’s appeal
failed and she was executed at Au-
burn Prison in March, 1910—the
second woman to die in the electric
chair in New York’s history.

On the other hand, Jim Farmer’s
case found more favor with the
Court of Appeals, which reversed
the decision of the Jower court.
There was evidence pointing to
Jim’s participation in the forgery,
the Appeal judges held, but none
to justify his conviction for hav-
ing any foreknowledge of, or con-
spiratorial part in, the actual slay-
ing. Accordingly, after 56 weeks
in the death house—punishment
enough to cover his minor part in
the crime—Jim was released and al-
lowed to return to Jefferson County.

There he lived for the balance of
his life, gaining eventually the sta-
tus of a respected citizen. Jim
Farmer died of heart disease in
City Hospital, Watertown, on June
4th, 1934.

THE END

She Made Him Strip

(Continued from page 14)

Calloway slowed to a stop under the
muzzle of the gun.

“Get out.”

“What’s the idea?” he wanted to
know.

“We're taking your car, chump. Get
around the back. Open that trunk. Now
get in and make it snappy.”

Calloway squeezed into the trunk. It
was a tight fit and his hand was half
way out of the trunk when the girl
slammed the cover down, cutting the
hand almost in two. :

For that, Toni Jo Henry, the dark,
brooding brunette, was to become na-
tionally notorious, infamously nick-
named the “Tiger Girl.” Toni Jo was a
woman in love, and as such, fired with
a purpose which she would do anything
to achieve. She had latched onto her
hitchhiking companion, Harold Finnon
Burks, solely because he was valuable
to her plans.

Burks was an Army deserter and
small-time hood, whom she knew as
William Adams. He had served a pris-
on sentence for burglary in the Texas

.

State Penitentiary at Huntsville where
Toni Jo’s husband, “Cowboy” Claude
Henry, was doing life for murder.

The Cowboy was an ex-prizefighter
Toni Jo had met while working in a
San Antonio, Texas, bordello. She was
23 and a drug addict and, although she
had known men since she was 15, she
and the Cowboy fell madly in love.
“He’s the greatest,” she often said

Henry was out on bail at the time for
the murder rap. But in the short inter-
val before his trial and conviction he
helped Toni to “take the monkey off her
back”—kick the drug habit. Now, she
was determined to help him escape
Huntsville.

First, however, she needed weapons
and money and clothes. She and Burks
had obtained the first by robbing a
Beaumont sporting goods shop. The sec-
ond she planned to get by sticking up
an Arkansas bank. The third require-
ment was to be supplied by Joseph
Calloway himself. He was about the
same size as the Cowboy, who would be
able to wear his clothes. ‘

Now, with the salesman writhing in
pain from his slashed hand, Toni and
Burks drove along the Old Spanish
Trail until they came to a cross road
leading toward Deridder.. ;

Once they stopped on the dirt’ road
to kill Calloway, but there’ was too
much traffic. Another time they slowed
dewn for the kill, but flares from a
nearby oil field made it too light. The

delay was grating on Burks’ frazzled
nerves. :

“Let’s get it over with,” he snapped,
and Toni pulled the car to a stop a
hundred yards from a stack of rice
straw in a marshy field.

Calloway was pulled from the turtle
back. The coroner says that his body in-
dicated a pair of pliers had been
clamped on his wrist to pull him toward
the rice field. Between the road and
the stack, there was a barbed wire fence
and when they got that far Toni halted.

“Get back to the car,” she ordered
Burks. “Keep the motor running. I
won’t be long.”

Burks was a little slow in obeying.
She slapped him aside the head with
the pistol.

“Get going,” she snapped.

Calloway was prodded with the gun
to the rice stack.

“What's the idea of treating me like
this?” he asked. “I’ve done nothing but
do you a good turn. You can have the
car, but leave me alone. I haven't
harmed you.”

“Shut up,” Toni commanded. “Take
off your coat and jacket.”

Still pleading for the girl to take the
car, Calloway obeyed, despite the cold
drizzle.

- “Get down on your knees.”

He knelt in the straw, pleading for

his life.

“I’ve got a wife and daughter,” he
pleaded. “Let me set them again. I'll
not tell on you. You have the car. Just
don’t shoot. Don’t sh-o-o . . .”

The gun cracked. Calloway sagged on
his face in the wet rice straw.

Swiftly Toni gathered his clothes and

_dashed for the car.

“What happened?” Burks wanted to
know.

“Be quiet and get going.”

They roared away into the wet night.
Once they stopped to burn Calloway’s
clothes to delay identification of the
body. The next morning they were ia
Camden, Arkansas, where they, regis-
tered at a cheap hotel.

Kidnapping a man, stealing his car,
and murdering him in cold blood was
pretty stiff for a petty criminal. Burks
was in a nervous funk. Toni had an
idea he might rat on her and she locked
him in his room and hid the key under
her pillow.

Burks finally persuaded her that he
would go along and was allowed to
leave the hotel to buy cartridges for the
gun. There was no telling how much

shooting there would be in the bank
job, a small institution at Harrell; Ark-
ansas, which was thought to keep plenty
of cash on hand for lumber mill pay-
rolls,

No sooner did Burks get out of the
hotel, than he lammed. He drove to

Texarkana and pawned Calloway’s
watch. Then he drove out of town and
disappeared.

Toni stuck around until she was con-
vinced that Burks had really run out.
Then the jitters clamped down on her.
A guilty secret is not so tough on your
conscience when someone who’s mixed
up in it is around to talk to. You can
bat the ball back and forth and pretty
soon you’ve built up a pretty good rea-
son for the wrong.

But going it alone is tough. Toni

struck out for a place where at least
she knew somebody she could talk to.
She caught a bus for Shreveport. where
she had run away from home.

Now a kid who has raided his Ma’s
cookie jar, as slight a crime as that is,
can’t keep it to himself very long. If
he doesn’t brag about it, at least he
wants to share the secret. The burden
gets heavier and heavier and you've
got to tell someone. Especially if the
guilty secret is the fact that you’ve shot
down in cold blood a friendly guy who
gave you a ride on a cold rainy night,
where the night gets darker than down
in‘the swamps of Louisiana, the hinges
of Hell.

Toni went to Mrs. Emma Holt, her
aunt, and blurted “I killed a man in

Lake Charles.” .

The old saying that murder will out
never had a truer foundation than in
the case of Toni. As far as police knew,
there had been no murder. Calloway
still lay in the straw stack. There had
been no hue and cry over his disappear-
ance. He was a salesman who made ex-
tensive trips and his absence wag not
unusual.

The horrified aunt called her brother,
Captain George McQuiston of the
Louisiana state police. Murder was his
business. He knew only one thing an
honest cop could do and he did that.
He turned Toni over to Lake Charles
police.

“Why did you tell her?” Toni has
been asked hundreds of times.

“T just had to tell someone. It seemed
best to tell my kinfolks. I didn’t know
she would put the finger on me.” ~

Back in Lake Charles, Toni led offi-
cers to the body. She stayed in the car
while they walked to the straw stack
and came back. ‘

“Was he shot in the head?” she
asked coolly.

In jail at Lake Charles, Toni earned
the title of “Tiger Girl.” She snarled at
officers and newspapermen like a caged’
beast. Scornfully she refused to answer
questions about her accomplice.

“T'll get that guy, and in my own.
way,” she rasped. :

It looked like the officers were up
against a stone wall until Sheriff Henry .
Reid had an idea. If Toni was willing
to kill for Cowboy Henry, maybe he
could do something with her.

Toni was taken to the Beaumont jail.
The Cowboy was brought there from
Texas prison. The manacles on their
hands jangled when they flew into each
other’s arms. :

The Cowboy knew what it meant to
buck the law and lose. He convinced
her that the only chance for leniency
was to play ball and tell the law every-
thing. So Toni squealed.

She knew Burks as William Lloyd
Adams, the name under which he had
been sent up for burglary in Texas in

47


32

Court records give no indication about the
race or other characteristics of the jurors selected
or not selected. Prospective jurors were interro-
gated in large panels, and, by today’s standards,
questions about their backgrounds and beliefs
were superficial. Still, seating an unbiased panel
was a problem. The defense used dozens of chal-
lenges for cause and most of its peremptory chal-
lenges in the first two trials to dismiss jurors who
had formed strong opinions against Toni Jo based
on the extensive pre-trial publicity.

In the first trial, particularly, conducted within
six weeks of the crime, public sentiment against
Toni Jo Henry, the torture murderer, ran very
strong. The mood in court was volatile. Specta-
tors filled the seating area, stood around the wall,
and finally were admitted to stand inside the rail-
ing, ringing the prosecution and defense tables
and the jury box. Different estimates put the size
of the crowd inside the railing at 100 to as many
as 400, at different times.

Mrs. Calloway and Lita were given seats in-
side the railing, facing the jurymen ten feet away.
When defense counsel objected, special assistant
district attorney Copeland replied, “If the jury
might be inclined to feel sorry for the woman
on trial, I want them to see the widow and daugh-
ter of the man killed.”

Disorder in the court extended to gestures and
comments directed at the jury. Spectators were
observed making slit-throat motions to jurors in
the courtroom. When the jury was coming back
from supper for a night session, women mem-
bers of the crowd outside the courthouse were
heard to yell, “Hang her,” and “Hang that bitch.”
As Supreme Court Justice Odom observed in
Toni Jo’s appeal of her first conviction, “The
people generally were intensely interested in the
outcome of the trial.”

Defense counsel asked Judge Hood to declare
a mistrial in view of the fact that “people think
this is a holiday.” Clement Moss said, “This
public clamor seeking to hang the defendant has
been done very openly . . . and I don’t believe
the defendant can secure a fair trial here.”

The trial went on regardless. Five police wit-
nesses testified to Toni Jo Henry’s statements to
them. George McQuiston could not be found for

The Angolite—May/June 1995

the trial, but Toni Jo’s Aunt Emma testified, sob-
bing repeatedly as she told how Toni Jo had come
to her house and made her bizarre confession.

Toni Jo was the only defense witness. She
was on the stand for an hour-and-a-half. Her at-
torneys got her version of the killing into the
record, with Burks firing the fatal shot “to the
heart,” as she testified. They attempted to bring
out her personal history at length, but the pros-
ecutors objected. Judge Hood sustained the ob-
jections on the rules of evidence.

In closing arguments, handled by J.P.
Copeland, the special prosecutor held up a glass
of clear water, which he said “was as clean as
the lives of Mrs. Calloway and her 17-year-old
daughter.” Then he dropped a few drops of ink
into the glass and said the darkened liquid repre-
sented “the gloom and heartbreak a slayer’s bul-
let brought to the souls of the widow and
daughter.”

The jury deliberated six-and-a-half hours,
which must have encouraged the defense to hope
that a deadlock had occurred. Then the verdict
came in: guilty as charged to murder. Toni Jo
Henry was sentenced to death on April 24, 1940.
Moss and Anderson filed notice of appeal.

The next month Finnon Burks was tried in
the same court for his part in the murder. His
only real defense was that he did not pull the trig-
ger. He was found guilty of murder on May 23
and sentenced to death on June 8, 1940. The
Louisiana Supreme Court rejected his appeal later
that year, and for the rest of his life Finnon Burks
was mostly waiting to see what would happen
with Toni Jo—hoping she would get a break that
he could manipulate to save his own life.

Toni Jo did get one big legal break later in
1940. On November 19, the Louisiana Supreme
Court overturned her first conviction. Several
grounds for reversal existed, the justices agreed:
the hostile influence of the spectators on the jury
(one observation was that “the jury knew what
they were there for”); the prejudicial influence
of seating the victim’s family inside by the
jurymen; questions about the voluntariness of the
several confessions Toni Jo had made to the po-
lice; and the inflammatory remarks of a prosecu-
tor.


The Angolite—-May/June 1995

Calloway’s clothes when he heard the shot. Then
Toni Jo came up to the fence and he asked her,
“What have you done?” The next morning, in
Camden, when he had left her on the pretext of
getting more shells for the guns, she had threat-
ened to “look him up” if he turned “yellow.”

Which of them had done the shooting? The
coroner’s inquest had already named Toni Jo.
Law enforcement officials said it did not matter.
Under the felony murder doctrine, both were
equally guilty. And Sheriff Reid quoted Toni Jo
as saying, “One is as guilty as the other.”

On February 27, 1940, Toni Jo Henry and
Finnon Burks were jointly indicted for the mur-
der. Two days later, on February 29, her attor-
neys were appointed. These two men, Clement
M. Moss and Norman Anderson, would stick with
Toni Jo through all three trials, gaining in the
process what they did not have when they began:
experience in the criminal law.

Moss and Anderson maintained from the start
that they were civil lawyers and practiced civil
law almost exclusively. Anderson was a tax law-
yer, and federal tax returns were due on March
15. Nevertheless, Judge John T. Hood confirmed
their appointment on March 2, 1940, and, despite
their request for a continuance, ordered them to
prepare for trial on March 27, exactly 25 days
from the official date of their appointment.

On March 14, Moss and Anderson filed a
motion for severance to separate Toni Jo’s trial
from that of Finnon Burks. It had become clear
that Finnon, in an effort to save himself from the
death penalty, was going to testify that Toni Jo
shot Calloway, and Toni Jo was going to do the
same. Their separate interests were best served
by severance, which Judge Hood ordered on
March 15. Toni Jo would be tried first, and the
trial of Finnon Burks would follow in May. So
much for the reunion of the partners in crime;
until the very end, neither would have much good
to say about the other.

If Toni Jo’s attorneys were rank amateurs at
criminal law, the family of Joseph Calloway had
gone to extraordinary lengths to insure that a
tough old pro would be on the prosecutor’s side.
Mrs. Calloway had hired J.P. Copeland, a former
assistant district attorney in Hunt County, Texas,

31

and a personal friend of the victim, to be a spe-
cial prosecutor in the case.

Copeland made no bones about his intentions.
He said in a March 6 interview with the Lake
Charles paper, “Nothing will satisfy me and the
better class of people in Houston but the death
penalty for this man and woman.” Nor, he con-
tinued, “can the manner of death be too severe.”

Feeling in the brutal and needless Plateau Petit
Bois murder had run “extremely high” in Hous-
ton, he said. He went on to say he felt sure that
had the crime been committed in Houston, “Burks
and Mrs. Henry would have been mobbed.” Of
“100 persons in Houston to whom I talked about
this murder, without exception each said they both
Should have the death penalty,” the attorney said.

Interviewed in Houston on March 25, two
days before the trial was to begin, Copeland did
not seem to have mellowed much. “I believe this
is one of the most cold-blooded murders that has
been committed anywhere. I do not think that
the annals of criminal law nor the cesspools of
hell have ever engulfed a more heinous or atro-

cious crime than the act that took the life of J.P.
Calloway.”

Copeland brought with him Calloway’s widow
and 17-year-old daughter, Lita. One of
Calloway’s last requests, when he was praying
in the field before he was shot, was to be allowed
to live so he might see his nine-year-old daugh-
ter graduate from college. At some point in the
last six weeks, the daughter had aged eight years
and looked as fiercely determined as her mother
and Mr. Copeland to see Toni Jo and Finnon
Burks dead, in the photograph they posed for on
the courthouse steps the day the trial began,
March 27, 1940.

Toni Jo would have three trials; in March
1940, February 1941 and January 1942. All three
would be in Lake Charles, when the defense mo-
tion for a change of venue was denied. All three
would follow Louisiana law in allowing only men
to serve as jurors, and all three would result in
verdicts of “guilty as charged to murder,” which,
lacking the jury’s “without capital punishment”
recommendation, meant a death sentence: hang-
ing, at the first trial, or electrocution, at the sec-
ond and third.

rrr

30

blue eyes, dark chestnut hair and medium com-
plexion and build. He looked more like an in-
surance Clerk than a desperado. The next night,
February 21, exactly a week after the killing,
when the local sheriff, his deputy and an FBI
agent showed up at his sister’s house in Warren,
Arkansas, to arrest him, Arkansas walked out and
shook hands with the sheriff. “I was not sur-
prised as I was expecting it most any time,” he
said.

Arkansas’s real name, as it turned out, was
Horace Finnon Burks. He had served eight
months in a Texas prison for an attempted bur-
glary in Athens, Texas, and he had left the
Army—he refused to say “deserted”—‘“because
it was muddy and raining and snowing and we
was living in tents, and I left to go and turn in at
another post somewhere where I would get out
of those tents.” When he first met Toni Jo in
Beaumont, all he was thinking about was going
home to Arkansas, or maybe going up to Shreve-
port to turn himself in. The one point he wanted
made clear was that he had nothing to do with
killing the man. He had abandoned Calloway’s
car in Arkadelphia, and he had pawned the dead
man’s watch in Prescott, those acts he did not
deny: but killing Calloway, the idea and the act,
that all belonged to Toni Jo.

Calcasieu Parish authorities went up to Ar-
kansas on Thursday, February 22nd, to return
Burks to Louisiana. He waived extradition, and
by Thursday night he was back in the parish jail,
almost reunited with Toni Jo, whom he had aban-
doned in Camden the week before.

The Friday American Press, in its by now
standard daily front page coverage of the crime,
came up with a real classic. Its reporter, Will-
iam Daniels, apparently got the jailer to put Toni
Jo and Arkie together in a jail corridor for a posed
photo; he then interviewed both of them at length,
in their separate cells, for their contrasting ac-
counts of their meeting in Beaumont, the crime,
and their actions afterward.

The photo showed Finnon Burks, dressed in
jailhouse khakis, staring directly at the camera.
Toni Jo, standing at his left side in a colorful print
blouse, was perhaps an inch shorter; she was look-
ing Crossways past him, as if at another person

The Angolite—-May/June 1995

not shown off-camera. They showed no sign of
recognition, according to the photo caption, which
described their meeting as undramatic and casual.
Toni Jo much resembles Rita Hayworth, as she
might have starred in a 1940s film noir, playing
a woman whose fate has become tied to a man
so beneath her she imagines he isn’t there.

“As flashlight bulbs popped, Burks smoothed
his hair. After a minute or two, Mrs. Henry said
smilingly she was ‘bored’ being surrounded by
so many ‘ugly men.’ Later, indicating her red
slacks and flowered waist, she showed concern
for her appearance—remarking she’d ‘blow her
top’ if a fresh change did not reach her.”

Daniels, in his subsequent long interview with
each defendant, found their stories remarkably
similar, except for two key differences: how the
murder was committed, and how they came to
split up in Arkansas.

Toni Jo now blamed Arkie for the shooting,
which she said took place as she was walking
away with Calloway’s clothes. Why did she con-
fess? “I just didn’t care. I wanted to protect
Arkansas. I had nothing to live for.” She said
that when they quarreled in the hotel room in
Camden, he was leaving with all the guns. She
grabbed one from his waist band and slapped him
and he left.

Daniels observed that Toni Jo did not mind
talking about herself. She was polite and offered
the reporter cigarettes. “Woman-like, she pointed
out the results of her ‘housekeeping’ this morn-
ing—how she had cleaned the floors and her bath-
room and made up her bunk.” One thing had
aroused her ire, however. That was, “I am not
as hard, sullen and that sort of thing like you all
have made me out in the newspapers.”

When Daniels was leaving, she smiled and
said, “Don’t worry about finding me, I’ll be here
any time you want to see me.” And getting seri-
ous once more, she asked: “What’s all this they’re
saying about me torturing Calloway. Neither of
us touched him or did any of the things they’re
saying we did and I don’t care what the coroner
says.”

Finnon Burks, in his interview an hour later,
said he was walking away from the rice stack with

The Angolite—May/June 1995

With the dead body confirming that a genu-
ine homicide had occurred, the wheels of justice
began to turn more rapidly. Sheriff Henry Reid
and District Attorney C.V. Pattison were notified,
Coroner E.L. Clement assembled a coroner’s jury
to view the body at the scene, and—most impor-
tant from the viewpoint of the local citizenry—
the news media were notified.

The first news account of the crime, in the
Lake Charles American Press of Monday, Feb-
ruary 19, 1940, has a front page photo of the body
of Joseph Calloway, opaqued out below his neck,
guarded by the two state troopers, Jones and
LeBleu, with a close-up of Toni Jo Henry super-
imposed over the body. The caption describes
her as “unemotional, sullen and darkly scowling,”
and reports that “a full confession had been ob-
tained. Although she claims to have had as a
companion, a man who she terms a ‘little, yel-
low rat’ but continues to shield, the woman took
full blame for firing the fatal shot.”

The accompanying news article says that Mrs.
Henry — “Toni,” as she prefers to be known—
walked into the coroner’s inquest sullen and de-
fiant but nonetheless jaunty, dressed in red slacks
and a short jacket, gave one deliberate glance at
the jury members and spectators, and then said,
“I refuse to make a statement.” She also stuck
to the underworld code of not “stooling” on her
male accomplice for whom police of five south-
ern states were searching, the paper reported.

What amazed the law enforcement officials
who were present at the inquest, the newspaper
reported, was the emotionless manner in which
Toni admitted her part in the Plateau Petit Bois
murder without implicating her companion fur-
ther than that he was with her. Nor could they
fathom the motive beyond that they wanted the
car which they could have taken by simply forc-
ing Calloway out.

If Toni Jo wasn’t talking any more, everyone
else who knew anything about the case was.
Details of several confessions she had made—to
Aunt Emma, Uncle George, and various state
police and local law enforcement officers—were
being reported, and Dr. Clement, the coroner,
added fuel to the fire when he revealed during
the inquest that Calloway had been “brutally tor-

29

tured before he was slain.” Calloway’s hand had
been cut to the bone when the turtle back was
slammed on it, but an even worse injury had been
done. One account read:

Performing an autopsy on the victim,
admittedly shot between the eyes by Mrs.
Henry of Beaumont, the Calcasieu coroner
said he discovered where pliers had been
clamped twice to a lower-body extremity
probably when the victim was being led into
the rice field.

The distinctive jaw-pattern of the pliers
was still visible in the torn flesh, although
the body had lain since early Wednesday
night until Saturday afternoon where it had
fallen after a .32 calibre revolver bullet cut
short Calloway’s prayer that he be spared.

The idea that Toni Jo had clamped pliers
around Calloway’s penis to lead him to the spot
where he would be killed grabbed the popular
imagination in its own vice-grip. Although no
evidence of torture was ever introduced in her
three trials, and no officials involved in the in-
vestigation ever discussed the mysterious plier-
mark injuries again, Toni Jo was a
torture-murderer from this day on, for readers of
papers in Lake Charles and Beaumont, and read-
ers of other newspapers elsewhere repeating the
crime story as they took it off the wire.

The next day, the American Press reported
that Toni Jo had been taken on a midnight ride
to Beaumont to meet with her husband on Mon-
day night. After the “tearful and distraught meet-
ing with her convict husband,” at which Cowboy
“beseeched her to tell all she knew,” Toni Jo iden-
tified her accomplice as “Arkansas,” the only
name she knew for him. She then obligingly
looked at mug shots of criminals in the. Beaumont
Police Department’s rogues’ gallery until she
found the picture of her “little, yellow rat” com-
panion: William Lloyd Adams, alias Kermit
Haygood and Finnon Horace Burke. He was re-
ported to be from Oklahoma, but had done time
in Texas. Why he was nicknamed “Arkansas”
no one could say.

The first newspaper photograph of Arkansas
showed a mild-looking young man, about five feet
eight inches tall, weighing about 140 pounds, with

80

lars. Bychrist also identified the pistol
by the piece broken out of the upper part
of the right-hand grip.

I now felt that the trail of this pistol,
which had been started through the rec-
ord of its having been pawned two years
before by a Mrs. Zielinski, and which
record was due to the efficiency of our
pawnshop check-up system, was becoming
complicated. How many more hands
would we have to trace this weapon
through before we succeeded in getting it
into the hands of the person we sought—
the one who had it when Charles Rabito
was murdered?

All through the night of January 5th,
and the early hours of the morning of
January 6th, we followed that trail per-
sistently. At 3:20 that morning William
Dolan, who had been with Bychrist during
the trouble in the drug store fourteen
months before, was brought in and he
confirmed Bychrist’s story of the sale of
the pistol to Salvadore Dallao. Written
statements were secured’ from Bychrist
and Dolan, and they were then released
from custody.

T 5:30 Salvadore Dallao was arrested

at 541 St. Mary Street. He identified
the pistol by the piece broken out of the
right-hand grip and admitted having
bought it from Bychrist for two dollars
fourteen months before, then stated he
had kept it only two or three days and
had then sold it to his brother, George
Dallao, for the same price. He volunteered
to take detectives to his brother.

I sent Captain Al Malone and Detec-
tives William Vandervort, Arthur Lein-
inger, Albert Gerlinger, Andrew Arnold,
Joe Mock and Walter Klemmer with Sal-
vadore Dallao to the home of his brother
George at 2624 Second Street, where they
took George Dallao into custody.

Just outside the kitchen door of George
Dallao’s home Detective Gerlinger found
a blue shirt which showed bloodstains.
The prisoner was brought to Headquarters,
where he denied having bought the pistol
from his brother—the first denial we had
encountered in the trail of the pistol. I
had him confronted by his brother, who
repeated the story of his sale of the pistol
to his brother George in the latter’s pres-
ence, but he still denied it. He was then
placed in a cell in the “Show-up Room”
for further investigation.

Rapidly the evidence against George
Dallao piled up. At 9:30 he was placed
on the stand in the “Show-up Room” and
confronted with a number of witnesses
whom my detectives had managed to dig
up during the night. He was identified
as a man who had been seen standing on
the corner of Liberty and Poydras Streets
about the time Charles Rabito would have
eee that way on his way to the bank.

anuel Adams, a man fifty-two years old
and employed as a watchman at the Cole
Manufacturing Company at 1740 Poydras
Street, positively identified George Dallao
as the man he had seen stopping a large
Studebaker sedan and getting in beside
the driver at the corner of Poydras and
Liberty streets at 12:40 on January 5th,
or about the time Charles Rabito would
have arrived at that point on his way to
the bank.

These witnesses were picked up by my
detectives following the route Rabito
would have taken in going from the
Warehouse at South Claiborne Avenue
and Poydras Street to the bank to make
his deposit. The clothes George Dallao
wore were identified by young Andrews
and the Brooks boy, the two youths who
had seen the man running out of the high
weeds and driving away in a car with an-
other man after Charles Rabito had been

True Detective Mysteries

shot to death—the boys hadn’t been close
enough to see his face.

With the evidence thus closing in around
George Dallao in the “Show-up Room” I
then took personal charge of the prisoner
and subjected him to a severe grilling.

“I tell you, Mister, I didn’t do it,” he
finally blurted out. “I was at the Or-
pheum Theater when that man was killed
—me an’ my brother.”

“Who? Salvadore?” I inquired.

“No, Tony,” he said. “My brother
Tony an’ Frank Pate. I can prove it by
them, Mister.

At 8:45 that morning I had Anthony
Dallao arrested at his home at 3024 Tou-
louse Street and brought into my office,
where I questioned him.

“I picked up George at his home about
twelve o’clock,”’ he said, “and drove to
the corner of Felicity and Magnolia
Streets where we took Frank Pate into
the car. I drove them both to the Or-

George Dallao who presented an al-

most perfect alibi when interrogated

by officers concerning the Rabito
murder

pheum Theater on University Place, and.

we went in and saw the show. If you
get Frank Pate he’ll tell you the same
thing.”

If this story was true my case against
George Dallao was crumbling, as Charles
Rabito had been murdered at a time
when these boys would have been in the
Orpheum Theater. I held Tony for fur-
ther questioning, and at 10:40 that morn-
ing had Frank Pate brought to my office.
Pate corroborated the story that had been
told to me by both Tony and George

Dallao—that they had been to the Or-:

pheum Theater together.

This looked like an alibi that would
hold before any court, and I was again
beginning to feel that our trail had ended
in a blind alley. Then I had an idea.

“What was the show you saw?” I sud-

denly shot the question at Frank Pate.

Pate began to describe the various acts,
when I interrupted him.

“Well, what was the first act you saw
—what was on the stage when you went
into the theater?”

“It’ was an act by a tall blond wo-
man,” he said.

“What did she do? What was her act?”
I inquired. :

“Just talkin,” he replied. “She was on
the stage by herself, but she had an act
with two fellows planted in a box.”

“You're sure this act was on when you

ee ae So ss

went into the theater” I asked him. “Now
think carefully.”

“Tm sure,” he replied. “I remember it
because George. spoke to me about the
girl as we were going to our seats.”

I checked up this act with George Dal-
lao, and he corroborated Pate’s story.

“That’s right,” he said. “I remember
the tall blonde because as we were getting
into our seats I said something to Frank
about her.”

Then I called up Edward Mather, stage
manager of the Orpheum Theater who
lived at 1526 Sixth Street.

“Have you an act at the Orpheum in
which a tall blond girl talks to two men
in a box?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said. “Dorothy Ryan. It’s
a good—” ;

“Never mind how good it is,” I said.
“What I want to know is what time this
act is on.”

“She goes on at one forty-five and is off
at two o’clock,” he said.

“Ts that hour followed rigidly every
day?” I inquired. “Does she go on at
one forty-five every afternoon and come
off at two?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “The time
doesn’t vary a half minute.”

“Okay, that’s all,” I said, and hung up.
I had smashed the alibi.

I immediately had George Dallao
brought in to me. ;

“You're sure that tall blond girl was
on the stage when you and Frank Pate
went into the Orpheum Theater yester-
day?” I asked him.

“Sure,” he replied. “I remember it be-
cause of me talking to Frank about the
girl when we were getting into our seats.”

“Well,” I told him, leaning back in my
chair and trying to show all the satisfac-
tion that I could, “that just about cooks
your goose, George.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, plainly
showing his alarm. He had figured his
alibi detective proof.

“Just this!” I shouted at him, leaning
forward in my chair and pointing my
finger at his face. “That act doesn’t go
on the stage till one forty-five, and
Charles Rabito was murdered before one
o’clock, and the gun you shot him with
was thrown into the canal before one-
thirty. You killed Rabito and then went
to the theater!”

I could see him wilting. He knew he
had been trapped by his own alibi.

“And I'll tell you another thing!” I
shouted at him. “You and your brother
will both swing for this job—we’ve got
the goods on you both!”

“NTO, no, Mister,” he begged. “Not my
.brother—he didn’t—he wasn’t—”

“Well, who did?” I shot this question
squarely into his face. “Come clean!
Who was with you if it wasn’t your
brother? Quick—tell me—who?”

“Johnny Capaci,” he said.

“Where is he now?” I was shooting
questions at him with the rapidity of a
machine gun.

“Home—I guess!”

“Where does he live?”

“Jackson Avenue—2801.”

“He was with you when you shot
Rabito?”

“T didn’t shoot him, Mister—Johnny
shot him.”

“Will you tell us that in his presence if
I get him here?”

“Yes, I'll tell you everything.”

At 5 o’clock that evening I sent Cap-
tain Frank J. Lannes and Detectives Wil-
liam Grosch and Andy Arnold to bring in
Johnny Capaci. He denied knowing any-
thing about the murder of Rabito and was
locked up.

I then got a
George Dallao ir
he and Johnny
stick-up of
close friend
had fired the

I showed this «
then broke dow:
confession of his
Captain of Dete:
myself, which I
stenographer and

As shown by
Rabito had picl
his way to the b
had been a lif
family. Had tl
would not have
him in his car a
bag at his feet
was twenty-thr
had been given
spoon, Manage
Warehouse at
and Poydras §
bank.

They drove o
the corner of L
had been loiteri
into the street 5
signal for the ca
swerved the ca
when his friend
spoke.

“ AIT am
want to s

“You know h

“Sure,” repli:
a friend of mir

Rabito broug
the man open:
sedan and climb
in open-mouthi
the hard muzzl:
the back of his

“Turn in L
toward the briv
his ear. “And
we'll rub you o

Rabito obey«
with fear the+
car. Then
crawled ov:
the wheel,
between them

As the man
wheel neared {
he turned into :
along a row o
Avenue, then <

Avenue and o
the Mississippi
Claiborne Ave

Levee into Jc

drove out Airli:

miles toward f

car into a gra

high weeds.
Here he stc
the men forcec
time keeping
. “Don’t kill

“Tl give you '

Johnny, I’ve |}

years—you wo!
Please, boys, t
go!”

“So you cai
knowin’ us lik:
“Not much—
tales!”

Then the ¢s
shots drifted
with the bitte
and Charles
under him, cri
died.

The confess
Johnny Capac
this, except in


CAD AN 2 THA my lal a a a , oy ws
CAPACI, John & DALLEO, George, whites, hanged New Vrleans, LA, May 18, 1934.

New Orleans’

ROADSIDE

Two shots shattered the peace of the

f : GREEN sedan hurtled along the Air- jah
count ryside, leaving murder and mystery line highway just outside New Or- his
; ; leans. The driver glanced sharply _
in their wake. about, scanning the roadside shrubbery. An he fi
tabs ° cae : ambling lane, leading into a deserted real es- :
But \ithin thirty Six hours police had tate development caught his attention. The car of
solvec the ruthless crime and started the swerved on squealing tires and came to a halt. bas
° Two men clambered out as the driver im- 1
killers toward the gallows. patiently muttered for haste. 2s
“Make it fast,” he snarled. the
B “Yeah !”” dai ;
y The two disappeared into the brush. Nerv- eee
7 ously the driver glanced up the highway. No wy
Superi tendent GEORGE F. RE YER one was in sight. Suddenly he tensed as two wy
, shots blasted the woodland silence. he
New Orleans Police Department One man came rushing back, a smoking pistol des

As Sold To PODINE SCHOENBERGER

It was John Capaci kil}
who told police a
spine-chilling tale
which helped them
solve the mystery
of the bullet-torn
corpse found in the
wooded spot below.

Superintendent George F. Reyer, head
of the New Orleans police, is author of
this tal: of murder and swift retribution.

2 ‘ i oe . ,

Capaci
lice a

tale

them
ystery
t-torn
in the
velow.

RIDDLE of the

CORPSE

in his hand. Beads of perspiration flecked
his forehead. His eyes were wild.

“It’s fixed. Get going,” he shouted as
he flung himself into the already moving
car. There was a clash of gears, a spurt
of dust and the machine swirled reck-
lessly back towards New Orleans.

Unknown to the two thugs, there was
a witness to their gruesome business in
the brush. William Andrews, youthful
dairy helper, was driving a herd of milk
cows to the barn when the green sedan
made its appearance. Trailing the herd,
he saw the man pushed from the car,
heard the two shots and saw the machine
depart.

George Dallao cor-
roborated Capaci’s
information, and
added _sidelights
which led to the
killers’ conviction.

His heart in his mouth, he moved
toward the screening thicket, dreading
the discovery he was certain he would
make. He pulled the branches aside.

Sprawled grotesquely across the dry
grass was the body of a man. He was
young, dark-haired and sturdy. He lay
on his back, his arms thrown across his
eyes as though to shut off the sight of the
man who had killed him—the sight of ap-
proaching death.

To Andrews the early January air that
had but a moment before carried a hint of
daffodils now lost its mildness, and the
sun seemed bleak in the presence of death.
He was aroused by the roar of twin mo-

torcycles; the Airline |
William turned and ra
the road.
“Police! Police
Patrolmen George H«
Roos skidded to a stop.
brought them to the sce
the murder. One look t:
man on the grass was be)
Mechanically they put
January 5, 1933, and the :
“Murder,” said Heint
“Yes,” Roos replied.
“I got the license nu
the dead man was ridin
put in excitedly.
“Good,” said Heintz.
it."
The case was under »
When the coroner ar:
the body he found the m:
twice through the head
eted bullets from a .32 c:
Realizing that we of tl
police department were
to deal with such a situ:
son parish authorities

?

his closest frie:

ghway patrol.
frantically for

tz and Ernest
ily chance had
so soon after
| them that the
snd human aid.
ywn the date,
ne, 12:55 p. m.
briefly.

ber of the car
in,’ Andrews

“Let me have

\y.
ved to examine
1 had been shot
vith steel-jack-
iber automatic.
New Orleans
etter equipped
ion, the Jeffer-
asked our co-

Charles Rabito, above, who esale grocery
clerk, met his death on a vi ious one-way

ride at the hands of a man}: thought was

4)


nu. “Now

ember it
out the

* orge Dal-
story.
»member
e getting
to Frank

ier, stage
iter who

vhheum in
two men

‘an. It’s

‘1 said.
time this

ind is off

lly every
go on at
ind come

he time
hung up.
Dallao

girl was
rank Pate
er yester-

it be-
it the
yur seats.”
ick in my
e satisfac-
out cooks

d, plainly
igured his

n, leaning
nting my
loesn’t go
-five, and
sefore one
him with
fore one-
then went

> knew he
ilibi.

thing!” I
sur brother
-we'’ve got

. “Not my
isn’t—”

is question
me clean!
asn’t your

9»

: shooting
ridity of a

you’ shot
er—Johnny
presence if

oe”

~-~t Cap-
.Wil-

ng in
wwadg any-
ito and was

I then got a written confession from
George Dallao in which he admitted that
he and Johnny Capaci had planned the
stick-up of Charles Rabito, who was 4
close friend of Carpaci, but that Capaci
had fired the shots that had killed Rabito.

I showed this confession to Capaci, who
then broke down and cried and issued a
confession of his own in the presence of
Captain of Detectives Harry Gregson and
myself, which I had taken down by @
stenographer and signed by Capaci.

As shown by these confessions, Charles
Rabito had picked up an old friend on
his way to the bank—Johnny Capaci. He
had been a lifelong friend of Rabito’s
family. Had this not been the case he
would not have been invited to ride with
him in his car at this time, for in a black
bag at his feet on the floor of the car
was twenty-three hundred dollars that
had been given to him by J. J. Weather-
spoon, Manager of the David Maize
Warehouse at South Claiborne Avenue
and Poydras Street, to deposit in the
bank.

They drove out Poydras Street, and at
the corner of Liberty Street a man who
had been loitering on the corner stepped
into the street and held up his hand in a
signal for the car to stop. Charles Rabito
swerved the car as though to drive on
when his friend in the seat beside him
spoke.

i iF cae a minute, Charlie,” he said, a
want to speak to this guy.”
“You know him?” asked Rabito.

“Sure,” replied his passenger. “He’s
a friend of mine.”

Rabito brought the car to a stop and
the man opened the rear door of the
sedan and climbed in. Then Rabito stared
in open-mouthed amazement as he felt
the hard muzzle of a gun pressed against
the back of his neck.

“Turn in Liberty Street and drive
toward the bridge,” a voice growled into
his ear. “And don’t make any squawk or
we'll rub you out!”

Rabito obeyed, though he trembled so
with fear that he could hardly drive the
car. Then the man in the rear seat
crawled over into the front seat and took
the wheel, the two men keeping Rabito
between them on the front seat.

As the man who* had appropriated the
wheel neared the Liberty Street Bridge,
he turned into an unpaved street that runs
along a row of warehouses to Claiborne
Avenue, then drove out South Claiborne
‘Avenue and over the bridge that spans
the Mississippi and Gulf Canal at South
Claiborne Avenue and_ the Protection
Levee into Jefferson Parish. Here he
drove out Airline Highway for about three
miles toward Bridgedale, then turned the
car into a gravel road that led into the
high weeds.

Here he stopped the car and one of
the men forced Rabito to get, out, all the
time keeping him covered with the gun.

“Don’t kill me, boys,” begged Rabito.

 «T’}] give you the money—only let me go
i)

Johnny, I’ve been a friend of yours for
-ears—you wouldn’t shoot me, would you?
met boys, take the money and let me
o!”

“So you can squawk on us, huh—you
knowin’ us like you do!” growled Capaci.
“Not much—dead men don’t tell no
tales!”

Then the sharp report of two pistol
shots drifted out over the levee, along
with the bitter smell of powder smoke—
and Charles Rabito, his knees buckling
uncer him, crumpled up in the weeds and

ied.

The confessions of George Dallao and
Johnny Capaci agreed in every detail of
this, except in the matter of who did the

True Detective Mysteries

shooting. Each accused the other of hav-
ing fired the fatal shots, but both were
equally guilty under the law.

However, there was another bit of evi-
dence I wanted to get—the stolen money.

“He has it,” said Dallao, pointing at
Capaci. “I never got any of it.”

Capaci admitted having the money and
told me that if I would send somebody
to his home he would call up his father
on the phone and tell him _to give them
the money. I then sent Captain Frank
J. Lannes and my brother, Detective Wil-
liam Grosch, to Capaci’s home at 2801
Jackson Avenue. Then his father told him
over the phone to come to his house as he
wanted to see him, and I sent him there
in the custody of Sergeant Joseph
Schwehm and Detective Joseph Mock,
where some money was handed to them
wrapped up in two handkerchiefs—but
only part of the stolen currency was there.

During Capaci’s telephone conversation
with his father from my office, I had
George Dallao present, as they conversed
in Italian and I knew that Dallao, now
anxious to convict Capaci, would gladly
interpret Capaci’s talk for me. After Ca-
paci had left with the detectives Dallao
asked to see me.

“They'll get only part of the money up
there,” he told me. “I heard him tell his
father over the phone that he had taken
the rest of it to my wife. I didn’t know
this before, but if you'll take me out
there now I'll get the rest of the money
for you.”

At 10 o’clock:that night I left my office
with Sergeant Joseph Schwehm, Detectives
Keupferle and Hackney and George Dal-
lao, and we*went to the home of Dallao’s
mother at 541 St. Mary Street, where we
met his wife. Dallao told his wife to give
us the money that had been brought to
her by Johnny Capaci.

After some conversation in Italian,
Dallao and his wife took Sergeant
Schwehm and myself to a Negro tenement
house on Delachaise near Howard Street,
and in a vacant room in the rear of this
house, which is owned by Dallao’s mother,
his wife pointed to an open grate in
which there was no fire but which was
piled high with rubbish. She helped me to
pull this trash out of the grate—and there,
hidden beneath the rubbish, I found the
rest of the money that had been stolen
when Rabito had been murdered.

UR case was now complete. In a little

more than twenty-four hours, through
a system by which we keep a constant
check-up of every article pawned any-
where in New Orleans, combined with the
chance occurrence that a pistol that had
been seen thrown into the canal by two
boys playing on the bank had been pawned
two years before, we had solved a murder
in which the perpetrators had left abso-
lutely no clue, and had all the necessary
evidence for conviction.

On January 17th, 1933, the Grand Jury
handed down indictments of George Dal-
lao and Johnny Capaci for murder in the
first degree in the killing of Charles Ra-
bito. The men were tried separately.
Capaci went on trial April 5th, and on
April 8th, a jury convicted him “as
charged.” Dallao’s trial end conviction
preceded Capaci’s. He went on trial
March 2ist and was convicted of mur-
der in the first degree the following day—
March 22nd, 1933.

Both convictions carried a mandatory
death sentence, and on May 28rd, 1933,
George Dallao and Johnny Capaci were
sentenced to hang for the wanton murder
of Charles Rabito—a murder that had
threatened to remain a baffling mystery
until a system that hasn’t had a single
failure in three years cleared it up.

81

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cea aa

HENRY, Toni Jo, white, electrocuted
at Lake Charles, la., on 11-28-19),2 &
& BURKS, Harold F., white, electrocut¢
at.Lake Charles, La., on 3-23-19)3,

Di) TON

“A RAT," was Toni Jo’s term for Horace Finnon AT THIS SPOT on the highway neat Vinton, La.. Joseph Calloway out of the
Burks (shown), Yet she refused to squeal on him, kindness of his heart picked up two hitch-hikers. "The two repaid his generosity
and later tried to save him from the chair. by holding him up and killing him after making bim say his prayers,

36 INSIDE DRTECTIVE


¥

|

In the CRIME

SPOTLIGHT.

Latest Sensations in the Crime Whirl—
and What the Law Is Doing About Them

EAK, emaciated and still in

serious condition as the result

of a skull fracture, Mrs. Ethel
Bender looked up from her bed in the
Denver General Hospital at Merle S.
Reagor, and identified him as her as-
sailant. Reagor, a Negro, was captured
on a tip to police from his father. Be-
fore being taken to the hospital to con-
front Mrs. Bender, Reagor had made a
complete confession of the crime to
Police Captain James E. Childers, ac-
cording to the police.

.The killing of her own five-year-old
daughter because the child was “too
good to live” was confessed in Palm
Springs, California, by Mrs. Betty
Hardaker, according to Police Chief
Harry Bishpam. While she was walk-
ing in a park with her daughter, Ger-
aldine, Chief Bishpam quoted Mrs.
Hardaker as saying, she was seized
suddenly with the conviction that
“Geraldine was too good to live. She
must die. She must not endure the
pain and agony I have known. I took
her into the washroom. I loved her
in my arms. Then I swung her high
in the air and bashed her against the
concrete floor.” The child’s body was
found in the washroom and Mrs.
Hardaker, who is 26 years old, was
apprehended the next day.

In Tacoma, Washington, the sheriff’s
office reported that John Ord, 42, a
city fireman, confessed the slaying of
Hale R. Nosier, 56, who recently had
married Ord’s sweetheart of ten years’
standing. The bride also was wounded
critically.

Ripping along Lake Chabot Road
near Hayward, California, at a mile
a minute, a big sedan went crazily out
of control, hurtled madly into the
bank, turned over and over, and final-
ly came to a precarious rest, balanced
on its radiator. Inside, authorities
found the bodies of Ralph Frazier and
Mrs. Margaret Blair. Both were dead.
But bullets, not the crash, had killed
them. When the investigation was
complete, police said it revealed a
bizarre murder-and-suicide finish to
the romance of a San Francisco- man
and a Stockton nurse. Frazier had
shot the woman and then, speeding at
60 miles an hour, had fired a bullet
into his own brain, police reported.

Donald Rogers, a seventeen-year-
old high-school pupil, explained in
Los Angeles, California, according to
police, that “just mischief” caused him
to shoot into a crowd of children play-
ing on a hillside, killing an eleven-
year-old girl and wounding her broth-
er, eight. Police Captain Edward
Slaughter reported the youth told
questioners he was alone at home and
“thought I had a good chance to shoot
my dad’s gun—I had always wanted
to.” The victim was Marilyn Bunker.
Her brother Bradley was shot in the

™ Lake Charles, Louisiana, police
said Mrs. Claude D. Henry, 24 years
old, of Beaumont, Texas, confessed
that she forced a salesman to undress
and then shot him to death as he knelt
and begged for his life. Authorities
wald that Mra, Henry also had given

OD—3a

them the name of a man who was
with her when the salesman, J. C.
Calloway of Houston, Texas, was
killed. She said she got rid of her
companion after the killing before
they could carry out a planned robbery
of an Arkansas bank. The woman was
arrested during investigation of a
Beaumont hardware-store robbery in
which sixteen guns were taken. Louisi-
ana State Police identified her-as the
wife of Claude—Cowboy—Henry, sen-
tenced February 8 at San Antonio,
Texas, to 50 years in Huntsville prison
for the slaying of a policeman.

John O’Brien, paroled sex criminal,
was identified by two boys as the man
who kept them captive in a Phila-
delphia, Pennsylvania, rooming-house
for several weeks and abused them.
Detectives said he told them, after be-
ing identified by the boys, “Every-
thing they say about me is true.” As

‘a-result of his reported confession,

which allegedly was signed by him,
police said O’Brien might be returned
to the Eastern Penitentiary as a parole
violator.

Glen Plant, a disgruntled farmhand,
killed Ralph Caldwell, his former
employer, in a snowbound farm-
house near Washington, Pennsylvania,
wounded the farmer’s wife with the
same shotgun blast, and then forced
the woman to kill him. Weak from
loss of blood that streamed from her
shot-torn shoulders and arms, the wo-
man, with her two children and an-
other farmhand, struggled 1,000 feet
through the snow to the home of a
neighbor who telephoned police,

wT AKE your hands off me or I'll
shoot,” Dallas Eagan told Officer
Tom Sugrue as she ran from a holdup
in San Francisco. He didn’t remove
his hands and Dallas pulled the trig-
ger—but the gun didn’t go off. When
she came up for trial before Superior
Judge Thomas M. Foley she was found
guilty of the charge of assault with
intent to commit murder. She also
was convicted of having taken some
$20 at the point of the same gun from
the till of a restaurant. Her sentence
was five years to life.

A Middlefield, Connecticut, sales-
man, Alden G. Schlosser, killed his
two small daughters and himself and
destroyed his home by fire after care-
fully insuring the safety of his wife.
Schlosser trussed up his wife with a
clothes-line, taped her mouth to pre-
vent her screaming, then carried her
outside the couple’s home at Lake
Beseck. Then he set fire to their home
and shot his daughters and himself.

Convicts in the Eastern Pennsyl-
vania Penitentiary tunneled under the
floor of a cell block, using a cabinet to
hide the entrance to the tunnel, in an
attempted wholesale break. The plot
was discovered when one of the ring-
leaders, James Wilson, committed sui-
cide by hanging in his cell, While pris-
oners were busy digging they left
dummy heads, resembling the features
of the would-be escapers, in cell beds
to foil guards during the routine
vhock-upa,

0 Pebeelrire [Poise May (44?

Warden Herbert Smith, left, and State Welfare Secre
Arthur Sweeney are shown here examining the cla:
which misled guards at Pennsylvania’s Eastern Penit

Harlan Bunker was overcome by grief when he fou
body of his daughter, Marilyn, eleven, who polic
had been shot and killed by a Los Angeles

Red-haired Dallas Eagan, shown here beside Publi
fender Gerald Kenney In San Francisco, war surpri
the court's verdlot following her attempt to ahoot a pol


A Dynamic Photo
Crime Short

B tee: only when prison officials told her

they would have to shave off her raven hair,

Toni Jo Henry walked calmly to her death in
the Louisiana state prison recently, the first woman
to die in the electric chair in the state’s history.

A half smile lighting her pale face, the comely
23-year-old Tiger Woman had no statement to make
as the executioner prepared to take her life in payment
for that of J. P. Calloway, Houston, Tex., salesman,
whom Toni Jo had killed.

The detailed story of Calloway’s murder appeared
in the July, 1940, issue of Dynamic Detective, under -
the title, “Murderess ‘Scarlett O’Hara.’”’ The crime .
was perpetrated by Toni Jo and her accomplice, Fin-
non Burks, in an effort to obtain money to spring
Toni Jo’s husband, Claude E. (Cowboy) Henry, who
was serving a 50-year sentence for murder in the
Texas state penitentiary.

A dramatic forerunner of Toni Jo’s execution was
her husband’s break from the Texas penitentiary in
a final hour attempt, police said, to save his wife from
the chair, He was captured just 50 miles from his goal
and returned to the penitentiary in time to receive a
phone call from his wife on the eve of her execution
urging him to live an “upright and law abiding life.”

Shortly before her death, Toni Jo signed a state-
ment taking full responsibility for Calloway’s murder.
Her accomplice, Burks, also has been sentenced to die.

Toni Jo Henry is shown in
her Louisiana cell and,
top, as she was led to her
death. Inset is her husband,
Claude (Cowboy) Henry,
Texas convict.


F ALL THE LOUSY LUCK!” the: black-haired
girl cried to her slim male companion, “It’s raining!”
‘‘Ain’t nobody got a heart?” gritted the man. “Every-

smn Louisiana, near Vinton.
» ‘with it the rain grew harder, spattering the two
‘and making dark spots on the girl’s vivid red slacks, In the
pocket of those slacks was a noticeable bulge, as though she
carried something heavy.
Tt was something heavy. It was a loaded revolver—a gun
‘that was to play its part in making this flashing-eyed brunette
ir) notorious to every newspaper reader in America as the
erpetrator of a crime without parallel in sheer cruelty.
“Here comes a car,” Toni said. She ran out on the pave-
rent and waved her hand frantically. The car, a brand-new

Ne

i) hikers ran to get in,

The driver was Joseph Calloway,
Texas. As a favor to a customer he was delivering the new
Ford from Houston to the Younger Brothers trucking firm
in Jennings, Louisiana. ye

“Climb in, folks,” he said cheerily. “This is a bad night
o be walking. How far are you going?”

The car started up again and the three chatted about incon-
equential matters. The genial Calloway was glad to be able
‘to help the couple,
badly soaked. Earlier that day, he had kissed his wife and
nine-year-old daughter goodbye in Houston and had promised
-.them that he would be back next day.

from keeping. For even as the car got under way, the girl
“Yin the red slacks was fingering the gun in her pocket... .

_ By the following afternoon, February 15, 1940, the Younger
» brothers in Jennings were wondering why Calloway had

~ not arrived with the car. They telephoned Calloway’s firm
~~ in Houston and were disturbed to learn that he had ieft the
(> previous morning and should have gotten to Jennings long ago.

When aiother day passed with still rio sign of Calloway, ©

Sheriff Henry A. Reid of Lake Charles, Louisiana, began an
ie "> investigation. Checking back on Calloway’s trail, he and
+ his deputies learned that the salesman had come at least as
{ far as Orange, Texas, just across the Sabine River from
4). Louisiana, for a service. station man at Orange had recognized

chim, At Vinton, Louisiana, however, the officers were sur-

“prised to learn from another service man that Calloway’s new

Ford, with its dealer’s plates, had stopped there with two

THE ACCUSED WOMAN looks on with interest as one of her defense
- attorneys. Norman Anderson (left), addresses the court. Despite elo-
quent appeals for leniency, the jury’s verdict was “Guilty.”

 MaARcH, 1945

Ford coupe with dealer’s plates, slowed to a stop and the two

a tire salesman of Houston,

who otherwise would soon have become.

It was a promise that a malignant fate was to prevent him .

One was a slightly-built man of about 25, not at all like
the 40-year-old, 200-pound Calloway. The other was a mere
girl, a striking brunette who wore red slacks.

Where was Calloway?
the investigators knew, between Orange and Vinton. And
when another day passed with still no word of him, it was
feared that he had been murdered.

At noon on the following day, Sheriff Reid got a long-
distance call from Shreveport. It was Captain John W. Jones
of the state police, and he had startling news, ;

“We picked up a girl here in Shreveport who says she knows > ;

something about the Calloway case,” he said. “We took her in
on suspicion of robbery, and because she answers roughly the
description of the girl seen in the Calloway car, we fired a few
questions at. her about that. She claims she knows where he
was murdered.”

Sheriff Reid hastened to Shreveport. There a battery of
officers questioned the suspect, who gave her name as Toni Jo

AMERICA’S 12 MOST VILLAINOUS WOMEN — No. 11

Something had happened to him,

Henry. She kept insisting that she knew about the mucder,.

and could show police where the body was,
mained evasive as to just how it had been committed, and
by
her half-told story, decided to take her out and_look for the
body of Joseph Calloway. .

“He’s lying behind a haystack near a dirt road not far
from Lake Charles,” Toni Jo said matter-of-factly, lighting a
cigarette as nonchalantly as though she were discussing a new
permanent. “I’ll show you.”

Officers stared at her.

whom. Finally the officers, not knowing whether to believe ©

but she ‘re- — oe

This black-haired girl was either .

equipped with piano-wire nerves or she was an A-1, gilt-~

edged liar—and they suspected the latter.
“All right,” they said. “Show us.”

. They made the long drive to Lake Charles and then, under

her direction, began a circuitous inspection of various side
roads. The girl seemed less sure of herself now,
were almost convinced that the whole story was a hoax when
at last she uttered an exclamation.
“There’s the place!” she said.
“My God!” cried Sheriff Reid.

“Behind that haystack.” .
“T can see him from here.”

In silent horror the officers trooped from their cars and _.
into the rice field to gaze at all that was mortal of Joseph °

was stark nude, his head almost against

Calloway. His body
He

the side of the huge stack that rose 20 feet into the air.
had been shot directly between the eyes.
“They even robbed him of his clothes,” a trooper breathed.
Calloway was lying in a petuliar position which at the time
did noteappear significant. His legs were drawn under him
moment he was shot,

as though he had been on his knees at the
and had then.slowly toppled to the
posture. .

(Continued on page 46)

into Calloway’s mysterious disappearance.

27

and the officers :

ground in a: jack-knifed

MRS. HENRY is shown leaving the Lake Charles jail to appear in '
court. She is manacled to Sheriff Henry Reid. who opened the in-
vestigation


| turned yellow when it

“Cowboy has a bad temper; he’ll
be in hot water all the time.”

The way she was pacing the floor
she reminded me of a black panther
I saw in a zoo one day restlessly
pacing up and down behind the iron
bars of the cage.

“You said you've got guts,” she
said, stopping, boring her phosphor-
escent eyes into mine.

“What kind of guts
mean?” I questioned her.

“The kind of guts that will make
quick, easy money, you idiot,” she
said as she let herself fall onto the
bed again, contempt blazing in her
eyes.

“You need dough, don’t you?” she
went on. “You're a deserter. ‘You
have to scram out of Texas, or
they’ get you. I need dough, too.
I’ve got to get a good mouthpiece; if
Cowboy’s sentence is cut, he’ll be
eligible for parole. He’s been con-
victed on circumstantial evidence.
Do you get that?”

“I know a little bank in Harrel,
Arkansas, near my home town. It
would be a cinch to pull a holdup.”

“Attaboy!” she shouted jubilantly.
“You're the kind of guy I’ve been
looking for. Let’s pull that job in
Harrel, Arky.”’

We began to make our plans.

“We need a car and guns,” I said.

“You get the car,” she said, “and
I'll get the guns. I know a couple
of kids here who will clean out the
Smith and Ayers hardware store at
five bucks a head.” .

Before I left, she shoved me two
one-dollar bills. :

“Get yourself something to eat
and a room for the night. I have to
work,” she said. “Be back tomor-
row afternoon.”

do you

we I got back the next day,
Toni stood in the middle of the
room, clad only in the bottoms of
her pajamas, stretching her firm
torso provocatively.

“Look under the bed, Arky,” she
greeted me.

While I bent over to peer under
the bed, she sat down on the only
chair in the room, still half unclad,
and began to powder and paint her
face.

“Pull out my suitcase and hand
me the stuff,” she flung at me over
her shoulder.

It was a suitcase full of guns, of
all calibres and models, a whole
arsenal of them.

“Did you find a car?”

“Yeah, I found a car.”

Two hours later I pointed out the
automobile from across the street.
It was a 1932 Ford coupe with Ar-
kansas license plates, parked on a
used car lot. I had figured that the
Arkansas license plates might come
in handy, since we were going to
pull the job in Arkansas.

When Toni caught sight of the
battered jallopy, she fairly snarled
with anger.

“You may have guts, but you
haven’t any brains. That buggy
looks as if it would break down at
the next corner. We can’t make a
getaway in that.” :

Toni was sure smart. I hadn’t
thought of that. I developed an-
other plan. Her black, copper-
flecked eyes still flaring, she nodded
assent.

That day, at about 5:30, we stood
near a filling station on the out-
skirts of town, trying to thumb a
ride. A thick web of smoke, drift-
ing from the eerily flickering flares
of the oil fields, hung low over

36

Highway 60, running eastward into
the fog-shrouded, silent night.

A thin, icy drizzle began to fall,

pricking our faces. Toni, in her thin
dress with nothing underneath, was
shivering. A truckdriver with a red
face and a gray mustacle, driving a
car for a cleaning and dyeing plant,
picked us up.

After having ridden five or six
miles, we told the fellow to let us
off. It was raining hard. The
driver seemed flabbergasted that we
wanted to leave him in the open
country. So I explained we wouldn’t
go any further because of the nasty
weather, and would rather hitch a
ride back to Beaumont.

An instant later the inky night
had swallowed up the truck, and we
stood there watching the oncoming
Passenger cars. We flagged several
of them before one stopped. From
a distance it had looked good to me,
but as soon as it got rolling I real-
ized it was just ripe for the wreck-
ers. Toni nudged me. We stepped
out again.

We hailed another car. ° Boy,
were we lucky! It was a brand-new
Ford.

“T can’t drive fast,” the driver
said: “He was a fat, friendly-
smiling, middle-aged fellow with
spectacles on his nose. “It’s brand
new and not broken in yet.”

“We'll break it in,’ Toni said;
the fat guy laughed because he
didn’t know what she meant.

AST Lake Charles, Louisiana,
Toni nudged me again. The guy,
who had told us his name was Cal-
loway, tire salesman from Houston,
Texas, noticed Toni poking me.
“What you kids up to?” he asked,
a shrill, eerie note of fright creeping
into his voice.
“Don’t be so dumb,’’ Toni snarled
to him, and the next moment she
jabbed a gun in his stomach. Be-

‘ tween clenched teeth she muttered,

“Go on, and don’t try anything
funny.”

Calloway’s eyes bulged in terror.
Sweat was rolling in big beads from
his forehead. For a while the poor
guy didn’t say anything; he was
scared out of his wits. Then the
words came in a sobbing rush.

“Let me go, let me go,” he
Pleaded. “If you’re -
after my money; Ill
give it to you, but don’t
do any harm to me. I'll
give you my watch, too,
and my ring.”

He would be easy, I
thought.

“We don’t need your
dough, buddy,” I said,
trying to show Toni
that I had guts and
could be tough too. “We
want your car,”

Toni snarled a com-
mand to him to pull up
at the roadside. While
the car was coming to a
standstill, she knocked
his eyeglasses off his
nose.

“Toni,” I warned, “this is not a
good place. Let’s take him’to a
woods.”’ ’

“Yeah, but let’s lock him in the
turtleback!”

I pushed him out of the car, Toni
covering him with the rod. While
he stood in the rain on the high-
way, I frisked him and took away
the money and valuables he had
offered us. Then I jerked the door
of the turtleback compartment open

Claude "Cowboy" Henry
convict-husband of Toni,
whom she hoped to free
with proceeds of holdup.

ae:
ae

Toni Jo went to trial 3
in the courthouse at
Lake Charles, Louisiana. se eser-m

and told him to get in-
side. There didn’t seem
to be enough room for
his big, bulky form.

“Slam the top shut,”
Toni snarled. Her face,
' dimly lit up by the danc-

ing flames of nearby oil

flares, was the face of

something inhuman, vi-

ciously lined and twisted.

I, too, was afraid of her.

I jammed the lid of

the turtleback down. A

low, agonizing groan es-

caped from the inside.
We jumped back into the car, and I
took the wheel—Toni didn’t know
how to drive—and off we went.

For an hour and a half, we were
cruising around, bumping and skid-
ding over soaked mud or gravel
roads. But we couldn’t find a woods.

“What are we goin’ to do with
him?” I asked Toni. r

She said, “Leave him somewhere;
don’t ask dumb questions.”

Then she suddenly whirled upon

came to m

urder but

vs 4,

The gun which snuffed
out the life of the
good-natured motorist.

me, screaming, “You’re not turning
yellow, are you? Make a false
move and I’ll fix you, too.” <A
taunting, shrill, ghastly laugh
ripped from her moist, glistening
lips. ‘“There’re no cartridges in
your gun, see?”

For another half an hour we
wound our way through the maze
of roads intersecting the barren,
wintry fields around Lake Charles.
Toni began to fidget nervously.

WE passed a fenced-in patch of
field. “Stop here,” ‘she ordered.
“That’s a good place.”

We stepped out of the car and
opened the turtleback. The light
inside the compartment lit up auto-
matically and shed a cone of bright-
ness on the huddled form of our
prisoner. His eyes popped in terror
out of a white, ghastly face, and his
mouth hung open. He began blub-
bering for mercy.

He lifted his hands and put them

—together, like in a prayer. One
hand, I noticed, was blootiy and


é

SURE got myself into a hell of a

méss,

I'm not superstitious and I
never believed in the magic of
an unlucky number. But that

February 13, 1940, when I met Toni
Jo Henry, was a black day for me.

Now I’m sitting in a sort of bird
cage, with iron bars all around, with
nothing to do but think. Two flights
down from this cage for unlucky
birds like me, the garden keeps an
assortment of lumber and a supply
of hemp rope. .

Put the stuff together and it
makes a first-rate, foolproof gal-
lows. That’s for me.

When the time comes, they will
shove me on it, and then, feet first,
Pll fly into eternity . . . for some-
thing I haven’t done . . . murder.
Maybe there will be some conso-
lation that they’ll first string up
the body of that raven-haired she-
devil for whom I’m taking the rap.

The first time I laid eyes on Toni
I was fascinated. She was strutting
down the juke joint and bawdy-
house row in Beaumont, Texas.

She moved sprightly on long,
well-shaped legs, her thin, short
skirt molding her firm flesh. As she
came nearer she shook her head,
throwing back a mane of beautiful
shiny black hair. My glance met
hers, and the blood shot to my head.
The thousand fires of hell were
burning in her long-lashed, phos-
phorescent, dark eyes.

A magnetic power seemed to rush
out from her and paralyze me like
the hypnotic stare of a boa con-
strictor as it ensnares its helpless
prey. Her entire being vibrated,
trembled with vitality, wickedness,
diabolical energy.

I never in my whole life have
seen a wench like Toni. During the
middle ages, she would have been
burned at the stake as a witch. And
nothing has changed - in the
streamlined year of 1940, she will
have a rope put around her pretty
neck and will dangle until she calms
down.

The hypnotic spell of that first en-
counter with Toni was broken by
the s6und of a girl’s voice.

“Hi-ya, Arky!” she called.

I turned my head around, and
saw Rosalita, a cute little Mexican
trick I had known in a red-light
house in San Antonio, while I was
in the army.

“You'll get a stiff neck if you
don’t take your eyes off Toni,” she
said with husky laughter. “(Come on,
meet her. She’s a chum of mine.”

We turned around and crossed
the street.

“Toni,” Rosalita said when we
crossed the street, “this is Arky, a
swell guy.” .

I had two bits in my trousers
pocket. It was the last of my
dough; I had been keeping it for a
flop-house. To hell with it, E
thought, and invited the two gals
to have a glass of beer.

We went to a nearby joint on
Crockett Street, sat down at the bar,
smoked, and talked. Rosalita soon
got up and left us. She had spotted
a half-drunk guy and was starting
to work on him.

“Let’s go up to my room,” Toni
suddenly suggested. Her husky
voice, like everything about her,
was like an electric vibration.

A LITTLE while later we were in
her room. It was a small cubicle
with almost no furniture. In the
ceiling was a big round hole through
which one could reach into the gar-
ret. “They are fixing it,” Toni ex-
plained.

Cur Ce

. Toni Jo Henry has been
sentenced to hang and |
am waiting to be tried.

SHE-DEUVIL
OF THE
RED-LIGHTS
PINNED A
MURDER
On Mme!

BY

She let herself: fall onto the
squeaky iron bed with the smooth,
lithe motion of a cat.

‘I'm broke, Toni,” I said: “I
shouldn’t have come up here with
you.”

“Sit down, Arky,” she laughed,
and threw back her hair. “I like
you; you look like a guy with guts.”

She paused and stared at me for
a while, before she questioned:

“You’re in a fix, aren’t you,
Arky?” ;

“T’m in a hell of a fix,” I nodded.

She prompted me to tell her.

ALL

“A couple of days ago I deserted -

from my regiment at Fort Sam
Houston’ and now they’re gunning
for me,” I explained.

“Why do they call you Arky?”
she asked.

“I was born in Arkansas.”

For a while Toni sat still, staring
moodily into the smoke of her cig-
arette.

‘'m in a fix, too,” she finally
broke the silence, and her voice was
suddenly cold and sharp. “They’ve
got my man on a murder rap. He’s
in the state pen in Huntsville with

wher f 990

a fifty-year sentence. I’ve got to
get him out. They call him Cow-
boy. -Have you heard of him—
Claude ‘Cowboy’ Henry? He’s my
husband.”

Her black eyes flamed with rage
and passion.

“T don’t know Cowboy, but I
heard of him. I was in Huntsville.
too, before I joined the army.”

“You were in Huntsville?” She
jumped up from the bed. “Tell me,
how is it? How do they treat you?
I heard it’s pretty tough.”

“Yeah, it’s plenty tough”

5

trend life was taking when Ruth
visited me at the fire station to make
her last demand for money.

“I must have been insane,” I told
Sheriff Andres. “For fourteen years
I proved myself a trustworthy ser-
vant to society. I never planned to
kill her,” I cried, nervously finger-
ing my unshaved face,

After newspaper reporters and
photographers had ended with me,
I led Sheriff Andres, Bennett, Gart-
man, and Captain Don Leonard to
the River Rouge bridge, where the
death weapon was easily found.
That, with my confession, clinched
the state’s case against me.

Early in May, after brief prelim-
inaries planned to determine the
degree of my guilt, I heard Coroner
Ganzhorn describe the roadside
scene that morning of May 4. Dr.
Weller, University of Michigan
Pathologist, pictured his findings
gleaned from an autopsy. Sheriff
Andres and Captain Don Leonard
reviewed case circumstances. All
this testimony was followed by a
brief summation from Prosecutor
Albert Rapp, who concluded by
saying:

“T feel the recommendation for
leniency signed by the entire corps
of investigators is warranted, es-
pecially when one acquaints him-
self with the unusual circumstances
in this case.”

An electric-charged silence
gripped the courtroom as the crowd
awaited Judge George W. Sample’s
response to Rapp’s unusual recom-
mendation for leniency. J udge
Sample’s stern voice bit into the
court chamber’s dramatic silence.

“TI must disregard all Pleas for
leniency in any case where a life is
taken by another.” The crowd
stirred in expectation of the man-

CRIM Ege

CONFESSIONS

before they found the corpse in that
deserted field with the two hay-
stacks. Maybe they wouldn’t dis-
cover the bumped-off guy before
the spring. I’d got myself in dutch
and there was nothing to do but see
it through. I was A. W. O. L. and
they were after me, anyway. Yeah,
the best way was to go through
with it.

“Do you still think I haven’t got
guts?” I asked Toni.

“Shut up and watch the road, or
we'll wind up in the ditch,” she said
sullenly.

I didn’t say anything.

We'd been going for some time,
just how long I don’t know, when it
shot through my brain that the big
guy’s clothes were still on the back
seat.

“What shall we do with the
clothes?” I asked Toni.

“You’re damn right, Arky!” she
said. ‘We’ve got to burn them up.
Why don’t you stop right here?”

We got out. The night had turned
crisp and dry. With newspaper and
a few dry sticks we made a bonfire,
and piled the clothing on top of it.

We were in Harrel by three in the
morning. The bank is located ina
two-story building. We figured out
how we could do it.

‘I’m going to pull the stickup,”
Toni explained. “You’ll park on
the side street. There are no traffic
lights and we can make a quick get-

CRIME. CONFESSIONS

datory penalty. “Therefore,” he
continued, “I find it my duty to sen-
tence you, George Reed, to life im-
prisonment at Marquette branch
prison.” f

A noisy disturbance interrupted
Judge Sample. He realized the un-
Popularity of his decision. Thus he
continued: ’

“Had you killed your ex-wife in.
self-defense, I might have granted
leniency to you. In my mind, your
crime was premeditated, shrewdly
planned in an effort to defeat jus-
tice. Therefore, my duty should be
clear to all concerned.”

Judge Sample adjourned court
immediately. Friends, members of
both my own and Ruth’s immediate
family, crowded around me to ex-
press their sincere sympathy in my
most trying moment of life. But
my battle for more reasonable jus-
tice didn’t end there. Those same
friends, a few days after my
incarceration in Marquette prison,
collaborated with the Detroit Fire-
men’s Benefit Association on ar-
rangements for anew trial on
grounds of temporary insanity.

PABLY in October, I was returned

from Marquette in shackles to
face a jury. Near the end of the
second trial, Judge Sample’s court-

room became the scene of noisy dis-:.

turbances, causing a mistrial.. A
few days later, Judge Sample set
oe 1 as the date of my third
trial.

An array of state witnesses filed
to the witness stand. Two psychi-
atrists, admitting there had been
enough provocation proved in the
case to upset me mentally, declared
me sane after lengthy examinations,

Mrs. Ruby Blay and Mrs. Helen
Prey, both sisters of my ex-wife,

away after I get the dough.”

A dim light was glowing inside
the bank. Toni stepped up to the
door and peered through the glass
Panel to get an idea what the dis-
tance from the cashier’s window to
the exit was. We mapped out all
the details,

“When do they open up?” Toni
asked. :

“At nine.”

“Okay, we'll stick ’em up at
nine.”

“You’re cracked. All the yokels
come in at that time—we'’d be
pinched sure as hell. We got to
pull it off in the afternoon.” :

TON! saw the sense to my argu-

ment. It was four in the morning
then, and we decided to drive to
Camden, some thirty miles away, .
and stay there at a hotel I knew.

While we tore down the highway,
Toni slumped in the seat, brooding
sullenly. Her eyes were narrow
slits. Several times I caught her
squinting at me suspiciously. I felt
uneasy. Hell knew what she’d be
up to next! She still had slugs in
her rod. =

‘When we entered the hotel room
in Camden, she locked the door and
took the key. When she lay. down’
to sleep, she shoved the key in her
Pillow case.

“What are you up to?” I asked
her, feeling pretty uneasy.

testified they had reasoned with
Ruth often to be more considerate
of me, and that, prior to Ruth’s di-
vorce, I had always been a home-
loving husband. Both women ad-
mitted that, in a way, Ruth had
caused the tragedy with her own
loose conduct.

That my ex-wife, under the name
of Ruth Hurley, was sentenced for
shoplifting was also brought out in

the third trial, as well as the fact |

that the man who accompanied her
the: evening of her death had beén
arrested 75 times in Detroit for va-
rious offenses. That I had been held
up, and’ had complained tp police
headquarters, was also entered as
evidence.

The jury considered the facts only
a few minutes. Their verdict was:
“Guilty of murder in the first de-
gree.” Thus, for the second time in
less than a year I heard myself sen-
tenced to life imprisonment. This
time, police authorities and rela-
tives prevailed upon Judge Sample
to commit me to the State Prison of
Southern Michigan, at Jackson.

Behind these four high walls, I
am able to receive visits from my
young daughter who is gradually
blossoming into respectable woman-
hood. After my first conviction,
Ilene was adopted into the home of
Patrolman Bill Marz, of Ann Arbor.

If my 40 years of social respon-
sibility prior to this crime mean
anything, surely those who read
my story can believe that my mind
was deranged that night I loaded
Ruth’s body with bullets. One con-
solation I cherish is the fact that
my devoted daughter, for whom I
tried to change intolerable condi-
tions, believes her daddy “must
have been insane” that tragic night
of May 3, 1933, me

E-DEVIL OF THE RED-LIGHTS

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 37

She compressed her lips.

“You’re a little yellow rat,” she
gritted. “If you got out of here,
you’d squeal on me.”

I slept little and tossed a lot. I
was thinking. But every time I
turned around she jumped up and
hissed, “Stop that funny. business or
Tl knock you cold, you yellow little
rat.”

When the light of the dawn was
seeping into the room I'd done all
the thinking I needed. No stickup
for me. I had a previous record. I
was an Army deserter. I’d been
drawn into a murder as that she-
devil’s accomplice. That was
enough. I had definitely turned a
yellow little rat.

Toni was up, too.

“What you got on your mind?”
she snapped.. I don’t know how in
the hell she always guessed what
was going on in the back of my
mind. But I was determined to fool

‘her for once.

“Toni,” I said, “we’re in a jam,
and we've got to pull that stickup.
We need the dough.”

That seemed to Please her.

“Sure, Arky,” she said, “Now
you’re talking like you had guts.”
Her face froze in a mask of fierce
determination. “With the dough
Tll get Cowboy out of the pen.
He’s the man I love. When they
took him, they took my heart. But
they won’t keep him.”

43

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mutilated, the flesh torn’ from the
fingers. It must have gotten caught
in the turtteback door when I
slammed it shut.

“Take my car,” he begged, “but-—”

“Get out,” Toni’s voice whizzed
through the night air.

Clumsily the big’ stout man rose
and clambered from the car. Un-
steadily he swayed on his numbed
legs. f

His body tensed suddenly. “You're
going to the pen for this,” he
threatened.

Gurgling laughter
Toni’s throat.

“You better think where you’re
going,” she blurted, and jabbed her
gun into his side.

We marched him to the fence,
made him crawl through it, then
clambered after him. Dim and
towering, two enormous haystacks
loomed before us. We plowed
through the field, as far as the hay-
stacks. I thought we would leave
him there and drive off. But Toni
had decided otherwise.

“We have to bump him off, you
yellow rat,” she whispered hoarsely
tome. “Look, if we don’t drill him,
he’ll get out of here and call the
coppers. They’ll be after the car
before we get a chance to hold up
that bank. Get it?”

I didn’t like that. I didn’t want a
murder rap. I didn’t want to have
anything to do with the killing of
this man.

Calloway was pleading again in
a blurred, miserable voice.

“I have a wife and daughter, and
I want to see them again. Don’t
kill me, have a heart... .”

broke from

“Keep your damn mouth shut,” «

Toni snapped.

“And get out of your clothes,”
she added. “Make it snappy.”

Calloway apparently was too
frightened to understand. He shift-
ed from one foot to the other.-

“Take off your clothes, you...
YOU a?

Toni screamed with wild rage.
As he still stood hesitant, she
pounced upon him like an infuriated
tigress and began to tear his clothes
off.

“Go on, peel!” she shrieked, bran-
dishing the gun. “Take off every-
thing.”

The man, dazed: and resigned,
obeyed.

He shed one garment after the
other, dropping them to the sodden
ground. Finally he stood there,
shaking, in his shoes, socks, and
garters.

“I said take off everything,” Toni
screamed in a new fit of rage.

Calloway stooped down, stripped
off the rest. His large feet sank into
the cold, clammy mud.

“Arky,” Tony called to me, “tote
the guy’s duds to the car and wait
there ... and start the motor!”

I piled the coat, trousers, shirt,
underwear, and the rest of the stuff
in my arms and ran back to the car.

I heard Toni scream, “Kneel down
and pray; I’m goin’ to kill you!”

| JAMMED on the starter. The din

of the engine drowned out the
noises beyond the fence. For a mo-
ment I thought I ought to scram
and leave the mad dame there, But
before I had time to think it over, I
heard the blast of a gun and the
muted thunder of its echo, there in
the fog. A moment later, Toni rose
from the shadows like a ghost.
Gun in hand, she jerked the car
door open and got in.

t

they're planning to hang me just the same

nT

Police Captain Jones (above) aided
in bringing Tigress Toni to bay. At
right, Sheriff Henry Reid- to’ whom-

she named “Arky" as her accomplice.

“What have you done?” I ques-
tioned her.

“Get going,” she said, in a dry,
cold voice.

“Did you kill him?”

I put the car in gear and started off.

She chuckled.. “Do you think I’d
let him get away? I let him have
it right up here.” She pointed to
her forehedd. “It sounded like a
punctured tire when it hit him, and
the blood shot up about three feet.”

She laughed again, a short, chill-

ey

Sista Sh

ing, inhuman laugh. I was scared
to death. Scared of the coppers
who soon would be after us, scared
of the tigress I had ganged up with.

Biting my lips, Silent, I found my
way back to Lake Charles, When
we reached the coastal highway,
Toni spoke.

“Let’s go to Shreveport,” she sug-
gested. “I have a couple of friends
in a sporting house; I’d like to visit
them. We'll go to Harrel later.”

We reached Shreveport, Louisi-

v

State Trooper LeBleu
took part in hunt for
slayers of Calloway.

ana, by midnight. For an hour we
sat around with a couple of painted
prostitutes, drank beer, smoked cig-
arettes, and then we drove out onto
the highway again.

“We have to hold up that bank
tomorrow,” Toni said. “Then we'll
leave the car somewhere and take
the bus back to Shreveport. Those
dumb coppers never will find out.”

I thought Toni was right after all.
It would take them days or perhaps
weeks (Continued on page 43)

37

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= oe


CAPACI and DALLAO, hanged at Gretna, Las, on May 18, 193 - Continued,

Capaci saying this or saying that, © He was. always telling me what a fine fellow Capaci was
and how much he thought of him,'» Capaci,admits in his confession that he visited Rabito at
the grocery store where the latter was employed About 10 a.m, Thursday and that he remained
in the neighborhood until Rabito left'the store and started to the bank, He was standing on
a corner near the store, according to: his confession, when Rabito drove by and saids YHello,
Johnny, you going out?! He assertis that he then got into the car and'‘that they proceeded
to South Liberty and. Poydras Streets, where they were joined by Dallao, Capaci, in the con-

. fession made public by the police, :said that'a month, ago he went to the Davis-Mize Wholesale

Grocery to get some groceries by his mother and was accompanied by, George Dallao, ' who
happened to be around-the house at that time,’ At that time, according to Capaci, it was

- proposed by Dallao that they rob the place, Capaci said that he told Dallao he did not know

how the Davis-Mize grocery money was taken to the hank, About a week later, Capaci recites

in his confession, Dallao accused him of having lied orf their first fisit to the store about
not knowing how the momay was, taken to the bank, 'Dallao told me he had trailed Charles Ra-
-ito's car to the bank about 3 times,' Capaci asserts in his confession, Describing the

' events leading up to the kidnaping and killing of Rqbito, the confession signed by Capaci

states: 'On Thursday .mrning, January 5, George Dallao came to my house about 8:30 ‘a.m, and
spoke to me about pulling thisjob and he said he was going to pull this job with someone
else and he told me''You -sm=, I will kill you if you don't show me the right man,' meaning
Charles Rabito, 'I then went down with my father and got off at Claiborne and Poydras Sts.
at the Davis-Mize place and I went.in to place and spoke to John Rabito; this was about ‘10
asm. I started to run out on this job and tell John Rabito but was frightened thinking they
might kill’ me.< I went out on the corner and met George Dallag,. who was across the street
from Davis-Mize place, and he told me his other friend was over on Liberty Street waiting
for use While standing on the corner waiting for Charles Rabito to come: along, Charles Ra-
bito passed and he said: 'Hello, Johnny, you going out?? and.I aaid 'Yes,' and then got into
the car with him, «When I got in the car with him he was driving out. Poydras Street and then
George Ballao said hello. to me, Charles Rabito said: 'You know this guy?’ and stopped the
car and George Dallao got into the automobile, sitting in the back, and held a gun against
the back of Charles Rabito s.head and made him turn in Liberty St. towards the Liberty Ste
Bridge to meet his friknd,” After. driving in Liberty St. a short. distance George Dallao for=
ced Charles Rabito to move over on the front seat and got. at the wheel and drove himself.
Upon reaching the Liberty St. Bridge, I aid "Where is your,friend?" and he said to me "I have
no friend and you are going with me," We drove out along a mud street alongside the-ware-
house and turned in Claiborne Avenue and up. Claiborne Avenueover the bridge at-Claiborne: Avex
and the Protection Levee and driving up about 3 miles over the bridge and then turned into a
side road about 4 block on this road, I,was pleading with George Dallao not to kill Charles
Rabito,y but he took him out of the car and shot him twice,and then rushed back and go¥into
the car, We then drove back into the highway. over the Claiborne Bridge and then turned
over to the river side of the road on; Claiborne Avenue’ and after going several- blocks. George
Dallao threw the gun out. of. the: car’ into the canal,, I saw a boy on the side of.the canal
where George Dallao threw the gun, “e then drpve to thenext corner and turned in to Panola
St. and parked the automobile on Panola between Dublin and Carrollton Ave, George Dallao
took the money out of the car and when we got to Carrollton Ave, while waiting for the car
he gave mé themoney, We left the, checks in the automobile and took a street car and trans-
ferred to the Claiborne car and rode as far as,Third St. and then got out of the car and we
went to George Dallao s houSe fherehe gave me about $50:and kept the balahce of the money
which we were to divide later on, I then went to my mother's house and then went home to my
wife and gave her $25 of $1 bills of this money, They gun on Chief Grosch s desk I identify
“as«the gun used inthis job," f er es 7
"Dallao relates in his confession that Capaci visited his home and asked if he ‘wanted to
make a job,' He said that he at first refused to listkn to the proposal, but that Capaci
insisted and explained 'that it would be easy and we could get by with ip, and then I agreed
to go with him on’ this Jobe! ‘He said that Capaci again visited his house about 10:30 aeme
Tuesday and that the two drove down inCapaci’s car to Jlook over thejob,' ‘After looking,
over the job,' Dallao says in his confession, twe went home and we spoke of pulling this
gob on Thursday, January 5, and he told me he would meet me at Claiborne Avenue and Poydras
treet on Thursday mrning, January 5, I Left home about 10:30 a.m. on this morning, Jane
53 and went down totClaiborne Avenue and Pgyrdas Street and met him across the atseeh from
the Davis-Mize com , warehouse, We thax-arranged how we would pull the job, and Johnny
Capaci peamieshiente walk out, Poydras St. and he wuld get into the car and meet me enone, 3
blocks down,: I think it was at Liberty St. where I met Johnny Capaci and Charles . Rabito,


-_ ———>

LaPAcl, Sok

15 SOUTHERN )19

« : ‘ . Z Z 4 ;
DALLEO, George, and CAPACI, John, hanged at Gretna, Louisiana, on May 18, 193k.

=

"Believed by police ‘to have been 'taken for a ride! and. robbed by two bandits,’ Charles Ra=
bito, 39=years-old, ##H#K#¥ clerk for a wholesale grocery company, was murdered and his body
was left in a field at Bridgedale, Yefferson Parish, shortly after noon Thursday (1/5/'32).
Police said that robbery apparently was the only mi ive for the crime, .Rabito had been sent
to a bank to depgsit $2,381.49 incagsh and checks shortly after noon by.J. J. Witherspoon,
manager of the wholesale grocery company, and had left his place of employment in his auto-
mobil €, : = : ;
"The dead man's automobile was found at lj psm. abandgned at. Dublin and Parish Sts., and in
the car police found $93.83 in checks which Rabito had been directed to deposit, along with
$1,446.66 in currency for.the grocery company, The currency was missing. Police said that
they had been informed that shortly after he left the. grogery store Rabito was hailed on
Poydras Street, near Claiborne Avenue, by an unidentified man who got into his automobile
and drove away with him, Rabito is survived by his widow, a 2-yeareold son, Charles, Jr,
and an infant son, Emile, who live. at the family home, 3203 General Taylor Street. .
"A, 32caliber revolver found by two schoolboys, and vague descriptions of two men furnished
-by a Jefferson Parish youth and a negro boy who heard the fatal shot and led policg to Ra-
bito's body formed the basis of one of theméstdetermined manhunts ever organized by police
of two parishes when they set out Thursday to discover the mrderer of the clerk, William
-Andrews, 18, Jefferson Heights, and a negro ,boy, ,.Robert Brooks, ran up to two highway patrol-
men.at 12:35 peme Thursday after they had heard two skots near the Aipling Highway at: Bridgee
dale, Jefferson Parish; and the negro, who had caught sight of Rabito s bleeding body as, he
ran across a field, .led the ofhers to the spot. Before calling police, Young Andrews had the
presence of mind to take down the number of the automobile in which the men believed to be
the criminals were making their escape, The auto proved to be Rabitg's, |
"Andrews told the highway patrolmen, GeorgeHeintz and Ernest Roos, that he had been driving
cows along the railroad track near the highway, toward the Betty-Lou Dairy, where he works,
when a green sedan passed him and turned off the highway and gnto a side road: 'The car.
stopped,' he said, ‘and two'men,got gut, leaving another man at the,wheel, They were all
white men. The.engine was racing when they got out of the car. I didn't see their faces
well, because Iwas about 100 yards away, but I noticed them because before they got out they
had turned the car around so that it faced back toward the highway, The tw men walked off
out of my sight, and about half a minute later I heard two shots and saw one of the men dash
back to the car and jump in as.the man at the wheel started it. I thought the third man
must have been‘killed or hurt, so I‘go the car number - a 1932 license, 10-253, Is aw the
two highway patrolmen coming along the road, and as I started toward them Robert‘ Brooks ran
toward me through the bushes ahd yelled that there was a man bleeding to death in the field,
He said he heard the shots too, We ran and got the patrolmen and Robert showed, us where the
body was.' Patrolman Heintz notified Earl Rolling, chief deputy sheriff of Jefferson Parish
who called 4 Charity Hospital ambulance, When the ambulance arrived, Rabito was pronounced
dead by internes, Two ,32-caliber steel-jacketed bullets had been fired into Rabito's head
according td the report of a joint autopsy conducted at the city morgue by Coroner George
F, Roeling of New Orleans and Coronér M,.M, “dom of Jefferson Parish, The first bullet ent-
ered the léft eye, passing through the head; the second struck the left side of the‘ chinbone
and passed out at the right side of the head, Although part of the money Rabito was to have
deposited was not found, apparently no Attempt had been made to search his clothes, police
_saide’ They found $10 in money and a watch in his pockets. e ae:
"The body-was identified as that of Rabito by. his brother John, who is also an emp loyeeof
the Davis-Mize’ WholesaleGrocery Company,.600 South Claiborne Ave., where Charles Rabito
yorket, ‘The cooperation of New Orleans authorities was reouested by Jefferson Parish Police
and the detective force, headed. by Chief Grosch, was assigned to follow the case. The’ in-
vestigation was placed under the supervision of 3 assistant district attorneys, Michael E,
Culligan, Chandler Luzenberg, Jr,, and Niels Hertz, Hardly was the inquiry under way before
2 schoolboys, pupils of the Lafayette elementary school, turned over to police what may
prove the most vital clue in the hunt for the criminalsethe revelver which police believe was
the murder weapon, Chief Grosch announced Thursday afternoon that he would attempt to trace
the owner of the gun by its number and that he hoped this would point to a trail le ading the

detective force to the discovery of the bandits. 4 ¢

"The two boys, Patrick Hodges, 13, 2334 Dublin Street, and Maurice Volenweider, 12, 8807

a j ! Serre ee ie: nes gate emer Ae a ; a
Col apissa Street, were returning to the ‘sthool,’ at Carrollton Avenue and Apricot Street :af-
Ser iis noon aceon, They had been home for lunch, The boys said they were walking along


South Claiborne Avenue, near Dublin St., when a closed car passed them, in which two men were
ridings One.of thatwo men suddenly leaned out and flung sqmething into the Claiborne canal,
they said, and the car went on, going very fast. Their curiosity aroused, the boys said they
peered into the canal and spied a pistol ‘lodged in the md at the water's edge, and started
to climb down to get it when a man they had never seen before. approached ,and-ordered them.
not to touch the gun, The boys were frightened, and went .to Patrolman Stanley. Breen of the
9th Precinct Station, .who was stationed to directtnaffic near the school during the luncheon
recess, ‘They neported the indident to Patrolman Breen, who went with them, and got thegun
after they had pointed it out. ;
"The boys did not notice thelicense number of the car, but their description of it tallies
with that-of Rabitods car, police said. South Ylaiborne Avenue, along which the car was
driving, leads directly from the Jefferson. Parish. Highwayalong which the death car was seen
to have fled from the scene of Rabito's death. Information regching police later in.the .day
indicated that Rabito and his two companions had stopped at the Jefferson Service Station,
which is on the “irline Highway, to buy gasoline,about noone. Stanley Bernard, owner of the
station, said that hehad waited on three men driving.a green Studebaker sedan, and that at
the time they stopped to buy gas they appeared to be having. an argument, .
"Members of the New Orleans homicide squad who.wemt to the scene of the crime included Rapt,
Edward L, Delatte, Sergeant Joseph Raggio, Captain Frank Lanes and Detective William Grosch.
Coroner Odom of Jefferson Parish was also notified, but reported shat Rabito was’ dead when
he reached.the spot, In addition to his widown, the former Miss Katherine Rando, and his 2

~ children, Rabito is survived.by his mother, Mrs, Anthony Rabito; six brothers, Joseph, John,
- Salvadore, Peter, Vincent and Gustave, and tw sisters, Mrs. Emanuel Palmissano and Mrs, Ben

Latino, Rabito s is the fourth death to occur in his,immediate family in the space of less
than two years.” The:others were those of his father, his older brother, .and his brotherts
infant child, A second cousinof the slain man, Mrs, Mamie Rabito Fausillo, died in Los
Angeles New Year's Evé. Her body is being brought to New Orleans for burial, Funeral Ser-
vices for Rabito will be eonducted Saturday at 9:30 a.m, at the funeral home of Lamana~
Panno-Fallo, Inc, 625 North Rampart Street, following which requiem mass. will be said in
St,’ Matthias'. Catholic Church, South Broad. and General Pershing Street, and interment will
be in Metairie Cemetery." TIMES-PICAYUNE, New Orleans, Lae, 1/6/1933 (1/1). Photosof
Rapito, Andrews, Site of homicide and map of area on page three, this issue. - .

"Fach naming the other as the instigator of the crime and as the actual slayer, 2 men were
said by police to have signed confessions Friday night to the kidnaping and murder Thursday

of Charles Rabito, wholesale grocery clerk, Simltaneously with the annoufcement that they
had obtained. confessions from.John Capaci, 28-years-old, 2801 Jackson Avenue, and George
Dallao, 28, 262) Second Street, police ordered the rd easeof. Several other persons who had
_been arrested for questioning in connection with the killimg, In their signed confessions,
Capaci and Pallao each charged the other with plotting the kidnaping and with firing 2 shots
-into Rabito s head after he was kidnaped while en-route to a’bank to deposit money for the
company by which he was employed and driven to an isolated spot near Bridgedale, in Jeffer-
son Parish. ; : ey .

"Shortly after obtaining the confessions, police recovered $1,096 of the $1,146.66 which is

_ reported to have been taken from Rabito by his slayers, Of the sum recovered, according to

police, $520 was found in Capaci's home and $576 in the home of Dallao's mother, Mrs,
Anthony Dallao, on Delachaise St. near LaSalle Street. A formal charge of mrder was filed
against Dallao Friday afternoon in Jefferson parish, and officers said that a similar charge
will be filed today against Capaci, After Capaci and Dallao confessed to the slaying,
according to police, it was disclosed by John Rabito how his dead brother had befriended Ca-
paci, At the time Capaci is‘ charged with luring Charles Rabito to his death, Rabito was
assisting him in a search‘for, employment, John Rabito said, F ci

"As John Rabito sat beside the coffin of his brother Friday night, he recounted the friend-
ship- which existed over a period,of 7. years‘ between the slain man ahd the alleged slayer.
‘My brother thought the world of John Capaci,' John Rabito said.' We do a cash and carry
business, but Charles was so fond of Capaci that he sold him groceries on credit, signed
his notes and madehimself personally responsible for debts contracted by Capaci. Capaci
wanted a job and asked my brother to recommend him for it, Charles agreed to do this and so
did I-for we felt toward Capaci like a brother, It was a terrible shock,’ worse even than
Charles! death, to know that his friend had been implicated in the crime.' He said that he
and, Charles Rabito had seen Capaci almst every day for 7 years. Mrs, Charles Rabito never
met Capaci but she had heard her husband speak of him so often she felt she knew him wey Ll,
-she said Friday. 'Yharles spoke so highly of-Capaci,' Mrs, Rabito continued, 'that I felt
like he was a member of the family, Neaply every day my husband wuld tell me about John

pinatingeememeeinn dae should’
¥ “

' art we ; MTR: IEE Hine Leenarad fill, whom they: had inten
| aco Aen ie tae hanging ‘beside Carriere at the
u iit vy inn. | springing b$ the Gouble trap for the mur-.
ESE RN aM IR Sei, eam Na agile ed ee der of a mesro woman in Allen parish.
SLAYER OF SWORDS, HN zion cs es =.
Pr we ue to hig death at 132: . mY
ee ee: we ee 0 {| 9. ' Carrterce’s first cousin, :Eraste Frame,

constable {a the Eighth Justice of the

es 1S A Ch vat rliate: a | Peace Ward of St. Landry, received the
* | Ph GALLOWS body of Sheriff Swords’: slayer and isft
Wwitetiet ae) ‘Vv | }with {t. for Swords Station, La. A small

bunch .of |flowers wag laid on the body
He ; when the rope had been removed. Hill's
| body was taken to Brusly Landing for

Staggers 5 from Weak

Gane f . Offictalg say Carriere made the atate-
Pi Noose Is ced—.N A ee | ment after arriving at the “walls” that.
Pla ks eck # ihe had staged his desperate outbreak fn

the pa jail in New Orleans tn the
hope that he would be ebot, and #0
would not have to be hanged.) © «...

‘. CONBIDERED “BAD MAN” =:
| Carriere, who bore the reputation of
| “dead shot” and “bad man,” was con-

Victed and. sentenced to death for the
murder of Sheriff Swords, who was shot
ané killed when he and @ posse attempt-
fed to recapture Carriere, who had es-
caped from jali at Jennings, where he
was held on the charge of killing @ ne-
After killing the shertff Carrilre suc-
ceefed in remaining at liberty for a
month, although pursued -by posses
through canebrakes and swamps and was
captured. only after he had been severely
wounded. He was tried and found gufity
of murdef the following October. The
State Supreme Court affirmed the verdict
and Governor Pleasant set October 19
as the date for the exécution, aay,

The case attracted widespread attention
throughout Louisiana and neighboring:
states because of the prominence of Sher-
iff Swords, and because of Carriere’s repu-
tation as @ “bad man.” The latter had
served two terms ia the penitentiary for
stealing and for receiving stolen property.
Sheriff Swords had befriended him on
several occasions and when captured Car-
riere expressed regret that he had killed
him, saying he would not have done so
if Swords had not taken negroes to help
“ nin. ’ } >

Baton (Rouge, La, Oct. 19.6
boys, don’t hurt my _neck,"’ were the
only “words spoken dy. Hilaire Car- |
rlere as he stepped upon the gallows |
and quietly permitted’ the adjustment
of the noose at the “walls” here Fri-
day noon, to pay the penalty for the
murder July 17, 1916, of Sherit¢ Marion’
L. Swords, of 8t. Landry Parish. There
was no delay, and the work of éxecu.-
tion, which began ‘at 12:06 p. m, was
over in five minutes. “At 12:10 p, m
the trap Was sprung, and the form of
the man [who had: aworn he. never
would live to . be’ hanged shot down |
through the’ doorway inthe platform
he ‘had: mounted. ‘moment before,
There was & quick, dull thud as the
rope brought hie body up with a jerk. |

! brie hie wer broken, and ms died in-
| Hie feet’ grased Of the .
| pit, and one’ of the owltnemean ower
Dushed th» FOpe OVer s0 that he seule

] entirely
| one y, clear, The body was perfectly

Aa the noose was bein, , |
staggered from Woakheen’but tinien
fed, Carriere contended he was innocent
Thursday night after he had made the >
fruitless attempt at suicide and had been )
saved by Dr, 1. O. Stirling. After the J(MES - Tic ar Me OMe

man tried to cut his throaf’he lay quietly

on hig mattrese and gave no: further y
trouble throu iene tl eae / eed O-| Le Any La

siven him. - be


The sheriff, accompanied by a deputy,
ree. citisens and three negro guldes,
oun Carrere in cabin just at
dawn after residents of Maltet wood»
‘had informed: him that tHé fugitive was
terrorizing the neighborhood. ’. Carriere
fled into '@ cornfield, carrying a rifle,
ng was closely pursued. by the sheriff
and his deputy. In a running fight the
deputy and two guides were wounded and |
the sheriff’ wae shot through ‘the h
} Carriere qecaped unwounded, : | =, .
month late¢ Carriere was brought to
day in an abandoned sawmill near Basile,
La., sixty miles away, and was captured
with more than twenty, buckshot wounds

Hin his ae R i
ees TO CHEAT GALLOWS
“frequently boasted he never would
jdie on the gallows. Lest Wednesday
night .in an attempt to escape the
New Ori perish prison, he mohed
& piece of pipe from the plumbing tn his
coll and. ght for more than an hour.
with the sm and five deputies before
being subdued, and last night in his death
cell at the penitentiary he slashed his
throat from «ar to ear with @ safety
tasor blade which he had secreted in his
spneiats te an effort to. cheat the gal-
ows. Sahat sha Ne tg ao
_. Karty today Carriere was visited by
Wather Rombouts and two nuns ‘and the
last rites of the church. were a
to. hAffm,
priest

‘The ‘ eteee at Cafriere’s hanging
' Pi days Darius M.- Fontenot; Dr.
bert “M.|-Littell, coroner; Ariel Fonte-
not, depu
j not, who
| Carri

on, of Melville, police
h Ward of St z


ter him and killed him without identifying his victim. Carriere responded freely to
questions propounded by Dr, Merrick Swords, He again expressed his rezret that he
had killed the latter's father," NEWS, Galveston,TX, 8-19-1916 (243.)

", With reference to your inouiry regarding the disposition of the case of

the individual who murdered my grandfather and late sheriff, Marion L. Swords of
St, Landry Parish: The late Helaire Carriere was captured and wounded after what.
was described as the largest manhunt ever conducted in the state, He did not

die from his wound, but was hanged as scheduled, Carriere was a young, white

male (25-30 years of age). His occupation was described as being just a helper
sort. He did have a prior criminal record..." Ltr, dtd, Merrick M, Swords, Jr.,
Veterans Employment Service, 701 Loyola Avenue = Room T9009, New Orleans, LA 70113
on Nov. h, 1982,

"Baton Rouge, Lae, Oct. 20, 1917-Helaire Carriere, Louisiana KBSASRERZS 'bad man,!
was hanged in the state penitentiary for the murder of Swords, a sheriff, last
July. undown in the canebrakes after a sensational man hunt of weeks, Carriere
resisted his execution to the last moment, even to the extent of attempting suicide
with a razor blade in his cell," EVENING STANDARD, Carlisle, PA, Oct. 20, 1917

(3215)

VAD, HLiaire, Wo.
i ga ee fe Ck
f neangea LOULSiana state
\ oo ide ea os Q
’ (St. Landry) 0 ct. 19

epairs being made: to tne ‘aba lsl deeb in:
Baton. Rouge are .completed, Carriere

rived at the parish prison in the charge

of Sheriff Fontenot of Lafayette, La., at:
6 o'clock 8 |

and


508

nelly, 416 U.S. at 645, 94 S.Ct. at 1872. To
establish that a prosecutor’s remarks are
so inflammatory as to have prejudiced the
substantial rights of a defendant, a habeas
petitioner must demonstrate either persist-
ent and pronounced misconduct or that the
evidence was so insubstantial that absent
the remarks, a conviction would probably
not have occurred. Bridge v. Lynaugh,
838 F.2d 770, 774 (5th Cir.1988); Felde, 795
F.2d at 403. The requisite showing is a
difficult one and Byrne falls far short of
demonstrating a violation which impinged
on his constitutional right to a fundamen-
tally fair trial. See Ortega v. McCotter,
808 F.2d 406, 407 (5th Cir.1987).

Any inference of future release which
could be gleaned by the jury from the
complained-of exchange would be tenuous
at best. The state prosecutor did not di-
rectly interject the notion of pardon or com-
mutation of sentence into the proceedings;
rather, the only explicit reference to future
release came from Fish in his motion for a
mistrial. Moreover, as is clear from the
record, the state prosecutor, recognizing
the danger of injecting arbitrary factors—
such as the specter of future release—into
the sentencing process, sought merely to
prevent Fish from delivering what the
state prosecutor perceived to be an inaccu-
rate monologue on the meaning of life im-
prisonment. That attempt was ultimately
unsuccessful since the trial court overruled
the second objection and, while admonish-
ing Fish that he might be opening a Pando-
ra’s box with his comments, allowed Fish to
continue to emphasize the irrevocable na-
ture of a life imprisonment sentence. No-
tably, each of the state prosecutor’s objec-
tions was immediately followed by the trial
court’s admonition that the statements of
the attorneys were not the law, and that
the jury was obligated to apply the law as

7. In the jury charge at the sentencing stage of
trial, the trial court began by informing the jury
that they “must now determine whether the
defendant should be sentenced to death or to
life imprisonment without benefit of probation,
parole or suspension of sentence.” The under-
scored phrase was uttered four more times by
the trial court in the course of the charge.
Moreover, the blank verdict form given to the
jury described the relevant penalty in the same
terms. At some point during its deliberations,

. parties—imposed a death sentence.

845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

provided by the trial court at the close of
trial. Throughout the trial, the jurors were
reminded that the statements and argu-
ments of the attorneys were not evidence.
Finally, the trial court properly instructed
the jury that the alternative to death was
‘life imprisonment without the benefit of
probation, parole or suspension of sen-
tence.” 7

Our conclusion that the allegedly “taint-
ed” voir dire did not constitutionally impair
the sentencing process is buttressed by the
stark contrasts between the facts in the
cases relied upon by Byrne and those be-
fore us here. In Gardner, for example,
the petitioner was convicted of first degree
murder in a Florida court and, after the
required sentencing hearing, the jury ad-
vised the trial court to impose a life sen-
tence on the ground that the statutory miti-
gating circumstances outweighed the statu-
tory aggravating circumstances. The trial
judge, however, relying in part on a presen-
tence investigation report that he had or-
dered—portions of which were neither dis-
closed to nor requested by counsel for the
The
Supreme Court held that the petitioner
“was denied due process of law when the
death sentence was imposed, at least in
part, on the basis of information which [the
defense] had no opportunity to deny or
explain.” Gardner, 430 U.S. at 362, 97
S.Ct. at 1207. t

In the instant case, despite Byrne’s: as-
sertions to the contrary, his counsel’ was
repeatedly permitted to explore befare the
jury the meaning of life imprisonment.
These remarks were not countered by con-
trary arguments from the state prosecutor.
Moreover, the trial court properly instruct-
ed the jury that the alternative to death

the jury became stalemated and returned to ask ©
the trial court for “further guidance as to what
the results would be of indecision ... lack of
coming to a unanimous decision, that is.” The
trial court explained that if the jury was unable
to return a unanimous verdict for either penal-
ty, then the jury would be declared hung and
the trial court would automatically impose the
sentence of life imprisonment without benefit of
probation, parole or suspension of sentence.


506 845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

suspension of sentence. That means life Later, while questioning prospective ju-
in prison with no parole; it means the rors, Fish once again stated that the parole
parole board can’t let him out. No pro- board was powerless to grant parole to a
bation—that means the Judge can’t put person sentenced to life imprisonment.
him on probation. No suspension of sen- Once again, the state prosecutor objected.
tence. That means the Judge can’t sus- This time, however, the trial court over-
pend his: sentence. ruled the objection but warned Fish that he

MR. BROWN: Your honor, my only’ might be opening the door for the state to
objection is that that is not an entirely go into the consequences of life imprison-
accurate statement of the law. I don’t ment. At that point, the state prosecutor
object to him stating what the penalties stressed that he was “trying to avoid that
are, but as far as his comment about because [he knew] the danger of it ... and
what the parole board may or may not that’s why [he objected].”” The trial court
ean do, I think it’s not entirely accurate, once again admonished the jury to dis-
but— regard the attorneys’ depiction of the law

MR. FISH: Your Honor, I think with- and to concentrate instead on the law as
out parole, it certainly means the parole given to them by the trial court. The Loui-
board can’t let him out. siana Supreme Court held that the state

MR. BROWN: Mr. Fish knows full prosecutor’s objections “were not necessar-
well what that means and what the possi-__ily well founded” since Fish’s statements
bilities are. And I object to that particu- were merely incomplete rather than inaccu-
lar statement. rate. Byrne, 483 So.2d at 570.°

MR. FISH: Your Honor, I would—I Byrne contends that the district court
would— : erred by failing to hold an evidentiary hear-

THE COURT: I'm going to sustain the ing on Byrne’s claims that the voir dire was
objection and I would admonish those of constitutionally improper. “[T]o receive a
you who are in the jury box and those of federal evidentiary hearing, a petitioner
you who are prospective jurors that what must allege facts that, if proved, would
the attorneys say about the law may or entitle him to relief.” Wilson v. Butler,
may not be the law. The law in this case go5 P24 879, 880 (5th Cir.1987), cert. de-
will be given to you at the close of this nied, US. , 108 S.Ct. 1059, 98 S.Ct.
case by the Court and it will be your 14991 (1988). This requirement not only/
duty to accept that law as given by the avoids wasting already overburdened fed~
Court irregardless [sic] of what the attor- 14) judicial resources, but also reduce’S
Beye oy OF uiay ue) ea) federal-state tensions in cases where a f¢d-

MR. FISH: Your Honor, I would move gra} hearing would serve no good purpose.
for a mistrial on the basis of Mr. Brown’s 7g Applying this requirement, we fixid no
statement. I think that it’s improper for g++or in the district court’s refusal #0 con-
Mr. Brown to raise the element of 4 gyct an evidentiary hearing. . Byrne’s
possibility of release when dealing with a Bh ie igs clearly without merit aS to mat-
death penalty case. oe ters of both fact and law, and he hag failed

MR. BROWN: I have no [sic] raised to allege or demonstrate the existence of

that possibility at all, Your Honor. I facts which would entitle him to relief.
mean I,—stayed away from it. ,

THE COURT: You made a valid objec- [2] As an initial matter, Byrne argues \
tion; the Court sustained the objection. that under King v. Lynaugh, 828 F.2d 257,

The request for mistrial is denied. reh’g en banc granted, 828 F.2d 269 (5th
5. As the Louisiana Supreme Court pointed out: fact, the Parole Board has absolutely no au- 4
Pardons and commutations of sentences are thority to recommend pardons or commuta-
handled by a differently constituted board, tions of sentences, or to restore parole eligibil-
‘see La.R.S. 15:572.1 et seq. (1981, and as ity in cases where the legislature has other-
amended), than the Parole Board. See La.R. wise provided.

S. 15:574.2 et seq. (1981, and as amended). In Byrne, 483 So.2d at 570.

BYRNE vy. BUTLER

505

Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (5th Cir. 1988)

Byrne filed timely notice of appeal from
the denial of habeas relief and sought a
certificate of probable cause to authorize
appeal and permission to proceed in forma
pauperis.4 On October 5, the district court
found that a certificate of probable cause
should not issue and denied Byrne’s appli-
cation “as frivolous, without merit and not
being in good faith.” We have before us
Byrne’s application for a certificate of
probable cause to appeal. In addition, the
state requests that we vacate the district
court’s stay of execution.

II.

In his application, Byrne argues that: (1)
the district court erred by failing to con-
duct an evidentiary hearing to determine
(a) whether the trial court violated Byrne’s
rights to a fair trial and impartial jury by
improperly restricting defense voir dire on
the meaning of life imprisonment; (b)
whether erroneous and misleading state-
ments by the state prosecutor during voir
dire regarding the potential for future re-
lease on parole improperly influenced the
jury; and (c) whether judicial misconduct
prevented Byrne from presenting evidence
on the issue of the effect the “tainted” voir
dire had on the jury; (2) the state prosecu-
tor’s improper comments concerning John-
son’s character rendered Byrne’s trial fun-
(jamentally unfair; (3) the district court
eisred by failing to conduct an evidentiary
he wring on Byrne’s claims that his attor-
ney; accorded him ineffective representa-
tion tyoth at trial and on direct appeal; (4)
becaus: ‘e the jury was allowed to consider
an impiermissible aggravating circum-
stance, 4 new sentencing hearing is re-
quireds, and (5) relevant mitigating evi-
dene %e was excluded at the penalty phase of
thie trial in violation of the principles set
forth by the Supreme Court in Skipper v.
South Carolina, 476 U.S. 1, 106 S.Ct. 1669,
90 L.Ed.2d 1 (1986) and similar cases. —

Ill.

[1] The standard for granting a certifi-
cate of probable cause under Federal Rule

4. On September 23, 1987, the state filed with the
district court its notice of intention to apply to

of Appellate Procedure 22(b) is whether the
petitioner has made a substantial showing
of a denial of a federal right. Brogdon v.
Butler, 824 F.2d 388, 340 (5th Cir.), cert.
denied, —- U.S. ——, 108 S.Ct. 18, 97
L.Ed.2d 802 (1987) (citing Stewart v. Beto,
454 F.2d 268, 279 n. 2 (5th Cir.1971)). In
requiring a substantial showing of the deni-
al of a federal right, the petitioner need not
show that he should prevail on the merits.
Barefoot v. Estelle, 463 U.S. 880, 893 n. 4,
103 S.Ct. 3383, 3394 n. 4, 77 L.Ed.2d 1090
(1982) (quoting Gordon v. Willis, 516
F.Supp. 911, 913 (N.D.Ga.1980)). Rather,
he must demonstrate that the issues are
subject to debate among jurists of reason;
that a court could resolve the issues in a
different manner; or that the questions are
worthy of encouragement to proceed fur-
ther. Jd. “In a capital case, the nature of
the penalty is a proper consideration in
determining whether to issue a certificate
of probable cause, but the severity of the
penalty does not in itself suffice to warrant
the automatic issuing of a certificate.”
Barefoot, 468 U.S. at 893, 108 S.Ct. at
3395. While we are acutely aware of the
fact that Byrne faces a sentence of execu-
tion, we are unable to conclude that Byrne
has made a substantial showing of the de-
nial of a federal right. Therefore, we deny
his application for a certificate of probable
cause to appeal.

IV.

A. Voir Dire
In his opening statements during voir
dire, Fish described the sentencing alterna-
tives available to the jury in a manner
designed to favorably predispose them to-
wards a sentence of life imprisonment.
Fish sought to impress upon the veniremen
the notion that life imprisonment would not
result in any form of early release. The
following exchange occurred between Fish,
the state prosecutor, and the trial court:
{[MR. FISH:] ... But there are only
two choices. One is life imprisonment
without benefit of parole, probation or

this court for an order vacating the district
court’s stay of execution.

BYRNE v. BUTLER

507 ©

Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (Sth Cir. 1988)

Cir.1987), the trial court’s “restriction” of
his right to inquire into the veniremen’s
understanding of life imprisonment and pa-
role violated his constitutional rights to a
fair trial and an impartial jury. Byrne’s
argument is of no moment. First, as we
have stressed, “[t]he grant of a rehearing
en banc vacates the panel opinion, which
thereafter has no force.” Selvage v. Ly-
naugh, 842 F.2d 89, 91 (5th Cir.1988).
Byrne’s reliance on King, therefore, is mis-
placed.

In Selvage, we noted that the legal basis
for the argument that one can be denied a
constitutional right to inquire into the ve-
niremen’s understanding of parole “en-
joyed virtually no support in this circuit
before the panel opinion in King v. Ly-
naugh.” Id. We went on to conclude that
- “the inquiry into parole matters in the se-
lection of a jury cannot be required so long
as the state may instruct the selected jury
that it cannot consider the subject at all.”
Id. at 92. Therefore, we held that “in the
face of our controlling cases we cannot
conclude that refusing to examine venire-
men about their understanding of parole or
their understanding of a life sentence, a
subject they will later be told they are not
to consider at all, denied Selvage any right
secured by the Constitution.” Jd.

_ While Selvage was decided with refer-
\ence to Texas law, its reasoning is equally
a\ppropriate in the instant case. Under
Louisiana law, “[t]he conditions under
which a person sentenced to life imprison-
men’. without the benefit of parole, proba-
tion, “or suspension of sentence can be re-
leased in the future are not a proper con-
sideration for a capital sentencing jury, and
shall n@t be discussed in the jury’s pres-

?
6. Even if we were to accept Byrne’s proposition
nat he had a constitutional right to examine the
~ veniremen about their conception of life impris-
onment and parole, we would be unable to
conclude that the trial court violated that right
in the instant case. Fish was neither prevented
from questioning the jurors about their concep-
tion of life imprisonment, nor restricted from
repeatedly stressing that life imprisonment
meant without the benefit of parole. Fish never
actually asked any potential jurors whether they
believed Byrne could be paroled while serving a
life sentence; rather, Fish tried to convey to the
veniremen the idea that life imprisonment

ence.” Byrne, 483 So.2d at 570 (citing
eases). This prohibition extends to voir
dire as well as to the sentencing phase of a
capital case. Jd. An evidentiary hearing
on Byrne’s contention, therefore, would be
futile.®

Byrne also contends that an evidentiary
hearing is necessary to determine whether
the state prosecutor’s objections and the
trial court’s rulings during voir dire de-
prived the sentencing process of the relia-
bility required by the eighth amendment.
Relying on Gardner v. Florida, 480 U.S.
349, 97 S.Ct. 1197, 51 L.Ed.2d 393 (1977),
and Caldweil v. Mississippi, 472 U.S. 320,
105 S.Ct. 2638, 86 L.Ed.2d 231 (1985),
Byrne argues that there is an unacceptable
risk that the sentencing determination was
improperly based on inaccurate or errone-
ous information.

[3,4] “Our review of the propriety of
prosecutorial comments made during a
state trial is ‘the narrow one of due process
and not the broad exercise of supervisory
power that [we] would possess in regard to
[our] own trial court.’” Willie v. Maggio,
737 F.2d 1872, 1390 (5th Cir.1984) (quoting
Donnelly v. DeChristoforo, 416 U.S. 687,
642, 94 S.Ct. 1868, 1871, 40 L.Ed.2d 431
(1974)). As a general rule, therefore, ‘“{iJ]n
federal habeas actions, improper jury argu-
ment by the state does not present a claim
of constitutional magnitude unless it is so
prejudicial that the petitioner’s state court
trial was rendered fundamentally unfair
within the meaning of the Fourteenth
Amendment’s Due Process clause.” Felde
v. Blackburn, 795 F.2d 400, 403 (5th Cir.
1986), cert. denied, US. , 108 S.Ct.
210, 98 L.Ed.2d 161 (1987); see also Don-

meant without possibility of early release. Fur-
thermore, the state prosecutor's objections met
with only limited success. The trial court did
not forbid Fish from discussing the powers of
the parole board. Quite the opposite, the trial
court overruled the state prosecutor’s second
objection and merely warned Fish that his com-
ments might invite the state prosecutor to deliv-
er a different analysis of the penalties—a course
the state prosecutor was not otherwise inclined
to pursue. After a careful review of the record,
we are unable to conclude that Byrne was pre-
vented from examining the veniremen about
their views on life imprisonment.

BYRNE v. BUTLER

509

Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (5th Cir. 1988)

was life imprisonment without benefit of
probation, parole or commutation of sen-
tence. Gardner, therefore, is inapposite to
the case at bar.

Byrne’s reliance on Caldwell is even
more misplaced. Caldwell involved com-
ments made by the prosecutor during the
sentencing phase of trial to the effect that
the jury’s decision as to life or death was
not final, that the decision would be auto-
matically reviewable and that the jury
should not be made to feel as if the entire
burden for the defendant’s life rested with
them. The Supreme Court held that such
comments ‘‘presen{t] an intolerable dan-
ger that the jury will in fact choose to
minimize the importance of its role,’ a view
that would be fundamentally incompatible
with the Eighth Amendment requirement
that the jury make an individualized deci-
sion that death is the appropriate punish-
ment in a specific case.” Darden v. Wain-
wright, 477 U.S. 168, 183 n. 15, 106 S.Ct.
2464, 2473, n. 15, 91 L.Ed.2d 144 (quoting
Caldwell, 472 U.S. at 333, 105 S.Ct. at
2642).

Caldweil is readily distinguishable from
the case at bar. The comments in Cald-
well were made at the sentencing phase of
trial and were explicitly approved by the
trial judge. In the instant case, the objec-
tions and rulings were made during voir
‘dire, “greatly reducing the chance that
they had any effect at all on sentencing.”
See Darden, 477 US. at 183 n. 15, 106

8. Py ‘yrne also contends that an evidentiary hear-
> ing \ '$ necessary to evaluate his charge that his
“constitutional rights to due process were violat-
ed in ‘he Louisiana trial court when the trial
judge itserfered with a witness for [Byrne] and
thereby ‘ienied him a fair opportunity to fully
presen; his claims in that court.” This charge
steitis from Byrne’s inclusion in his state habeas
P€.ition of what purported to be an affidavit of
“rs. J.E. Putters (“Putters”), a juror at Byrne’s
‘trial. This so-called affidavit bears neither Putt-
ers’ signature nor the signature of a notary
public. In this document, Putters supposedly
states that after the trial court delivered its
supplemental instruction to the deadlocked jury,
the panel decided to return a sentence of death
based primarily on their belief that Byrne
would be paroled if a life sentence was imposed.
Byrne also appended an affidavit from James H.
Carter, Jr. (“Carter”), Byrne’s local counsel, in
which Carter states that Putters initially agreed
that each statement in the document submitted

S.Ct. at 2473 n. 15. Moreover, in the in-
stant case, the trial court overruled one of
the two objections by the state prosecutor,
repeatedly instructed the jurors that the
attorneys’ arguments may or may not be
accurate reflections of the law and consist-
ently exhorted them to apply the law only
as given them by the trial court. Finally,
as noted in Darden, “Caldwell is relevant
only to certain types of comment—those
that mislead the jury as to its role in the
sentencing process in a way that allows the
jury to feel less responsible than it should
for the sentencing decision.” 477 U.S. at
184 n. 15, 106 S.Ct. at 2473 n. 15. Caldwell
is simply not implicated in the case before
us.

[5,6] Byrne has failed to demonstrate
that the record is in any way inadequate to
dispose of his meritless claim that the
events which transpired during voir dire

- deprived his sentence of the reliability de-

manded by the eighth amendment. On the
contrary, our review of the record leads us,
as it did the Louisiana Supreme Court, to
the ineluctable conclusion that “in the con-
text of the entire record, the prosecutor’s
objections to defense counsel’s statements
neither deflected the jury’s attention from
the ultimate significance and finality of the
penalty recommendation nor misguided the
jury’s sentencing discretion by introducing
arbitrary factors.” See State v. Byrne,
A483 So.2d at 571.8

by Byrne was true and correct, and that she
would swear to the document's truthfulness and
sign it under oath. According to the Carter
affidavit, Putters later reneged on her promise
and stated that she did not want to get further
involved in Byrne’s case. Carter included the
unsigned “Putters Affidavit” in Byrne's petition
anyway. The trial judge, understandably in-
censed that an unsigned affidavit was submitted
with the petition, apparently told Carter that he
had called Putters and that Putters had told him
that none of the statements in the affidavit was
true.

Even if we were to lend credence to the Carter
affidavit, we are at a loss to understand just
how such an admittedly unusual turn of events
would have any bearing on the constitutionality
of Byrne’s trial. Initially, Byrne tries to charac-
terize his allegations as some sort of hybrid ex
parte communications claim. Such an argu-
ment is specious at best given that the contact
occurred not during Byrne’s trial, but much

:

BYRNE v. BUTLER 511
Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (5th Cir. 1988)

tal case.” Booth, 107 S.Ct. at 2535. The
Supreme Court strongly disapproved of the
notion that the sentencing decision might
properly “turn on the perception that the
victim was a sterling member of the com-
munity rather than someone of questicna-
ble character.” Jd. at 2534. “Of course,
our system of justice does not tolerate such
distinctions.” Jd. at 2534 n. 6.

[7] The Supreme Court was careful to
stress that its disapproval of victim impact
information at the sentencing phase of a
capital trial does not mean that information
about the impact of the crime on the family
and the victim’s personal characteristics
will never be relevant in any context.
Booth, 107 S.Ct. at 2535 n. 10. “Similar
types of information may well be admissa-
ble because they relate directly to the cir-
cumstances of the crime.” Jd. This excep-
tion to Booth’s general admonishments is
sufficient to cover the prosecutor’s refer-
ences to Byrne’s “setting up” the woman
who loved him. That information related
to the circumstances of the case and was
supported by the evidence. Other refer-
ences to the fact that Byrne used people or
did not care about others would fall within
the same category. We are left, therefore,
with several oblique references to John-
son’s family and the state prosecutor’s de-
scription of Johnson as a caring and decent
‘individual.

‘. [8] While Booth did not discuss the is-
sue, it seems clear that even if the state
pros:ecutor’s brief references to Johnson’s
chariacter and family were improper,? we
must ‘still determine, under the teachings
of Donnelly and Darden, whether they
rendered » Byrne’s trial fundamentally un-
fair so as to invite habeas relief. Booth
inve;ved much more than improper argu-
ments by the prosecutor. Even a cursory
comparison of the VIS permitted before the
jury in Booth and the comments of the

9. In particular, we remain skeptical that the
state prosecutor’s references to the deaths of
Johnson’s parents could properly be character-
ized as victim impact information. Since John-
son’s mother died well before her daughter's
murder, the crime obviously could have had no
impact on her. Similarly, while the father died
shortly after Johnson’s burial, the state prosecu-

prosecutor in the instant case reveals a
wealth of difference in the scope, tone and
effect of the information provided. The
introduction of the VIS in Booth, much as
the prosecutor’s references to appellate re-
view and the role of the jury in Caldwell,
clearly created an unacceptable risk that
the eighth amendment’s requirement of
heightened reliability in capital sentencing
determinations had been compromised. In
both Booth and Caldwell, the improper
statements or comments were focused, un-
ambiguous and strong, and the information
imparted to the jury received a seal of
approval from the trial court.

The same-cannot be said of the instant
case. The state prosecutor’s allegedly im-
proper remarks were brief and, with re-
spect to the references to Johnson’s family,
cryptic. The information divulged in the
remarks—that Johnson, a heavy-set young
woman, was a steady, decent and dependa-
ble employee—was already before the jury,
in large measure, because of testimony
during the guilt phase establishing John-
son’s innocence of any wrongdoing. Final-
ly, and most importantly, the trial court not
only admonished the jury that they were
“not to be influenced by sympathy, passion
or prejudice,’ but also properly instructed
them that it was their ‘duty to consider the
circumstances of the offense, the character
and propensities of the defendant in deter-
mining the sentence to be imposed.’”’ More-
over, the jury was instructed at the close of
the guilt phase that the attorneys’ argu-
ments were not evidence. Far from re-
quiring the jury to consider the character
of the victim and the impact on the victim’s
family, the trial court directed the jury’s
attention to the defendant and his crime,
and instructed them to ignore any plays for
sympathy from the state prosecutor.
While we refuse to hold that prosecutorial
references to a victim’s character or family

tor certainly did not imply that the murder
caused the father’s death. Nevertheless, since
such an interpretation of the state prosecutor's
references to the father’s death would be a legit-
imate, albeit highly implausible, construction of
the remarks, we will treat them as victim im-
pact related statements.

512

can never render a trial fundamentally un-
fair, we conclude that under the facts of
the instant case, the state prosecutor’s
comments did not rise to the level of a
constitutional violation cognizable in habe-
as.

C. Ineffective Assistance of Counsel

Byrne asserts that an evidentiary hear-
ing is necessary to evaluate his various

claims of ineffective assistance of counsel.

The question of whether an evidentiary
hearing is necessary to resolve a charge of
inadequate representation turns on an as-
sessment of the record. If the petitioner’s
allegations cannot be resolved absent an
examination of evidence beyond the record,
a hearing is required, Clark v. Blackburn,
619 F.2d 481, 432 (5th Cir.1980); if the
record is clearly adequate to fairly dispose
of the claims of inadequate representation,
further inquiry is unnecessary, Baldwin v.
Maggio, 704 F.2d 1325, 1829 (5th Cir.1983),
cert. denied, 467 U.S. 1220, 104 S.Ct. 2669,
81 L.Ed.2d 374 (1984); see also Joseph v.
Butler, 838 F.2d 786, 788 (5th Cir.1988).
After reviewing the record, we agree with
the district court that Byrne’s claims may
be resolved without recourse to an eviden-
tiary hearing.

Byrne’s claims of ineffective assistance
of counsel must be evaluated under the
two-pronged test enunciated by the Su-
preme Court in Strickland v. Washington,
A66 U.S. 668, 104 S.Ct. 2052, 80 L.Ed.2d 674
(1984). The test requires first, “a showing
that counsel made errors so serious that
counsel was not functioning as the ‘coun-
sel’ guaranteed by the Sixth Amendment,”
and second, a showing that the deficient
performance so prejudiced the defense that
the defendant was deprived of a fair and
reliable trial. Uresti v. Lynaugh, 821 F.2d
1099, 1101 (5th Cir.1987) (quoting Strick-
land, 466 U.S. at 687, 104 S.Ct. at 2064).
Strickland imposes a severe burden on a
defendant. Procter v. Butler, 831 F.2d
1251, 1255 (5th Cir.1987). With respect to
the deficiency prong, for example, the de-
fendant must demonstrate that counsel’s
representation fell below an objective stan-
dard of reasonableness as measured by

845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

prevailing professional standards. Martin
v. McCotter, 796 F.2d 8138, 816 (5th Cir.
1986), cert. denied, US. , 107 S.Ct.
935, 93 L.Ed.2d 985 (1987). We have
stressed that “great deference is given to
counsel, ‘strongly presuming that counsel
has exercised reasonable professional judg-
ment.’”’ Martin, 796 F.2d at 816 (quoting
Lockhart v. McCotter, 782 F.2d 1275, 1279
(5th Cir.1986), cert. denied, —- US. —,
107 S.Ct. 873, 93 L.Ed.2d 827 (1987)).

In evaluating whether the defendant was
prejudiced by counsel’s allegedly incompe-
tent performance, ‘i]t is not enough for
the defendant to show that the errors had
some conceivable effect on the outcome of
the proceeding.” Strickland, 466 U.S. at
6938, 104 S.Ct. at 2067. Rather, the defend-
ant must demonstrate “a reasonable proba-
bility that, but for counsel’s unprofessional
errors, the result of the proceeding would
have been different. A reasonable proba-
bility is a probability sufficient to under-
mine confidence in the outcome.” Id. at
694, 104 S.Ct. at 2068. Strickland re-
quires that the defendant affirmatively
prove prejudice. Czere v. Butler, 833 F.2d
59, 64 (5th Cir.1987). As Strickland also
authorizes us to proceed directly to the
question of prejudice, if Byrne fails todem- ;
onstrate prejudice, the alleged deficiencies /
in the attorneys’ performance need not
even be considered. See Strickland, 466
U.S. at 698-99, 104 S.Ct. at 2070; Schwan-
der v. Blackburn, 750 F.2d 494, 502 (5th
Cir.1984). é

[9] Byrne first complains that his attor-
neys failed to have him evaluated by a
mental health professional. The tria! court
noted that Byrne “refused to cooperate in
his own defense, asked to be executed,
showed no remorse for his actions, laughed
during the guilt and sentencing phases of
his trial and ridiculed his family and attor-
neys for their concern.” Based on these
observations, Byrne argues that his trial
attorneys were ineffective for failing to
discover evidence of his underlying mental
disorder and for not presenting that evi-
dence both at the guilt and sentencing


510 845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

B. Comments on Victim’s Character man he is. What kind of girl was Robbie
Byrne complains that several comments Johnson?

by the state prosecutor constituted improp- re f Z : : i

er references to Johnson’s character and Robbie—steady employee—in May of

the impact of the crime on family members, this year promoted to manager of the

as condemned by the Supreme Court in Racetrack Station where she’d worked

Booth v. Maryland, — US. ——, ——, since 1982. Her mother died when she
107 S.Ct. 2529, 2533, 96 L.Ed.2d 440 (1987). was 17. He [sic] father died in October
Specifically, Byrne objects to the following of this year, after she was buried. They
remarks by the state prosecutor: can’t be here today. Dependable. A

She [Johnson] was a big girl. She was good decent girl who loved this man.

twenty-five years of age. Her mother In Booth, the Supreme Court held that a
died when she was seventeen and her Maryland statute requiring the introduc-
father died shortly after her funeral. So _ tion of a “victim impact statement” (“VIS”)
neither of them will be here to testify. at the sentencing phase of a capital murder

- : ‘ ‘ . P trial violated the eighth amendment. The
information in the VIS at issue in Booth,
which could either be read to the jury or
testified to by family members, described
in pronounced detail the personal charac-
teristics of the victims, the emotional im-
pact of the crime on the family, and the
family members’ opinions and character-
izations of the crime and the defendant.
After analyzing the many dangers inherent
Did he care for Robbie Johson [sic]? in allowing such information before the
Think about Robbie Johnson’s feelings. jury, the Supreme Court “reject[ed] the
She’s a big part of this trial. Don’t contention that the presence or absence of
forget about her. What kind of a girl emotional distress of the victim’s family, or

I’m telling you, this case is a lot more
than just an armed robbery and murder.
He knew what she did. He knew how
much money she handled. And he went
with her for one reason—to steal from
her.... And he set her up. She fell in
love with him. She loved him.

* * * * * *

was Robbie Johnson compared to this the victim’s personal characteristics, are

man over here. You know what kind of

later on habeas review. The trial court's alleged
error in the conduct of the state habeas proceed-
ing does not raise a ground of federal habeas
relief in connection with Byrne’s trial and sen-
tencing. Moreover, after reviewing the Carter
affidavit and the “Putters Affidavit,” we find
that neither is sufficient to raise a fact question
worthy of an evidentiary hearing. First, the
documents in question fall squarely within the
general evidentiary proscription against the use
of juror testimony to impeach the validity of a
verdict. See generally Fed.R.Evid. 606(b);
Government of the Virgin Islands v. Gereau, 523
F.2d 140, 148 (3d Cir.1975), cert. denied, 424
U.S. 917, 96 S.Ct. 1119, 47 L.Ed.2d 323 (1976).
It is well-settled that while post-verdict inquiries
into the existence of impermissible extraneous
influences on a jury’s deliberations (not impli-
cated in this case) are allowed under appropri-
ate circumstances, inquiries that seek to probe
the mental processes of jurors are impermissi-
ble. McQueen v. Blackburn, 755 F.2d 1174,
1178-79 (Sth Cir.1985); Llewellyn v. Styn-
chombe, 609 F.2d 194, 196 (5th Cir.1980); see
also Shillcutt v. Gagnon, 827 F.2d 1155, 1158-59
(7th Cir.1987); Abatino v. United States, 750

tence was not imposed.” The affidavit fails to \

even allege that the jurors’ belief was in any
way the result of constitutional impropriety on
the part of either the trial court or the state
prosecutor. The focus of our inquiry is on
whether Byrne was given a fundamentally fair
trial, not on whether the jurors acted on the
basis of subjective beliefs on discrete points of
law neither spawned nor fostered during the
trial process. The district court, therefore, did
not err by failing to conduct an evidentiary
hearing.

proper sentencing considerations in a capi-

,

F.2d 1442, 1446 (9th Cir.1985); Pruitt v. Huttof
542 F.2d 458, 460 (8th Cir.1976). Next, even #f
such evidence were permissible, we note that
Byrne has failed to offer a juror’s affidavit at, all.
We have before us, as did the state trial juidge,
an unnotarized, unsigned document purp“rting
to be an affidavit. Finally, even if th© doc-
uments in question were legitimate and: admiss-
able, they still fail to underscore the need for an
evidentiary hearing. The “Putters “Affidavit”
merely states that “one of the principal reasons
that the jury resolved its deadlock in favor of
the death penalty in this case was the belief that
the defendant would be paroled if a death seri-


514 845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

the Bossier City Police Department testi-
fied that after conducting an investigation
of the circumstances surrounding John-
son’s murder, he had obtained a warrant
for Byrne’s arrest. While the warrant it-
self does not appear in the record, there
are no indications that the testimony of the
officers was either inaccurate or perjured.
Therefore, Byrne’s conclusory allegations
to the contrary are of no moment.

Finally, Byrne argues that the inculpato-
ry statements he made to police were
prompted by improper police promises of
leniency and, therefore, were involuntary.
Specifically, Byrne claims that ‘Detective
West told [Byrne] that he would get the
death penalty if he did not confess, and
conversely, that he would get a term of life
imprisonment if he did.” This allegation
enjoys no factual support in the record. A
review of the testimony of the police offi-
cers involved in Byrne’s arrest and subse-
quent transportation to Bossier City—
where Byrne delivered a taped confession
—reveals that Byrne was advised of his
constitutional rights and freely made the
incriminating statements.!! Byrne’s con-
clusory assertion to the contrary is not
even supported by an affidavit chronicling
his version of the circumstances surround-
ing the statements. Moreover, ai trial,
Fish informed the trial court that:

I made a determination after reviewing

the statements of my client that they

were made freely and voluntarily and I

saw no reason to exclude the jury while

11. The Louisiana Supreme Court summarized
the circumstances surrounding Byrne's arrest
and subsequent confessions as follows:

Byrne was taken to the Leesville Police Sta-
tion where he was booked, photographed and
fingerprinted. During this process, and after
being advised of his Miranda rights, Byrne
asked a policeman whether Roberta Johnson
had died. Scotti responded affirmatively and
asked the defendant what he expected to hap-
pen. Byrne responded that he “expected to be
long gone before anybody found out what
happened.” Byrne then admitted hitting the
victim with the hammer several times.
Later that afternoon, Detective West of Bos-
sier City assumed custody of Byrne and trans-
ported him to Bossier City. After being Miran-
dized, and en route to Bossier City, defendant
admitted “having planned this armed robbery
from the very beginning....” Byrne restated

the voluntariness of the statement was
established outside their presence and
then have to establish it again with their
presence. Therefore [ informed Mr.
Brown that it would be all right with me
if he just proceeded to lay the foundation
for the statements. In other words,
proof that it was given freely and volun-
tarily without retiring the jury.
Under the circumstances, we cannot con-
clude that Byrne’s conclusory allegations
provide the slightest impetus for an eviden-
tiary hearing.

D. Invalid Aggravating Circumstance

{10] As noted earlier, the Louisiana Su-
preme Court found that one of the statu-
tory aggravating circumstances found by
the jury—that Johnson was an eyewitness
to a crime committed by Byrne—was invail-
id because Johnson was not an eyewitness
to an earlier, independent crime committed
by Byrne. Byrne, 483 So.2d at 575. The
Louisiana Supreme Court concluded, how-
ever, that the finding of the unproved ag-
gravating circumstance did not inject an
arbitrary factor into the sentencing pro-
ceeding as it rested upon otherwise admiss-
able evidence properly adduced at the guilt
stage. Jd. at 576. Byrne now contends
that he is entitled to a new sentencing

hearing because the jury’s consideration of /

the invalid aggravating circumstance in-/
jected an arbitrary factor into the sentenc-
ing proceeding. Byrne’s argument must
fail, however, for “{t]he fact that an invalid

his surprise at his immediate appreb<énsion
and advised Detective West that le had
planned to initially flee directly to Florida.
At the Bossier City Police Station, Syrne con-
fessed that he had killed Roberta Johnson
while perpetrating the robbery during a: taped
interview with police. As the only eyewitess
to the homicide, defendant provided polite
with this account of the incident in a taped:
confession recorded shortly after his arrest.
There is no question that the confession was
free and voluntary, and that the defendant
had been properly Mirandized. The confes-
sion was admitted into evidence, and the de-
fendant acknowledged the accuracy of his ac-
count of the incident during cross-examina-
tion.

Byrne, 483 So.2d at 568-69. This account of the

facts is well supported by the evidence adduced

at trial.

we oll els, ee


:
4

*

_ BYRNE v. BUTLER 515
Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (5th Cir. 1988)

statutory aggravating circumstance has
been found does not constitutionally impair
a death sentence under the Louisiana pro-
cedure where the jury has also found an-
other aggravating cireumstance which is
supported by the evidence and is valid un-
der the law and of itself suffices to autho-
rize the imposition of the death penalty.”
James, 827 F.2d at 1013 (citing cases).

[11] The armed robbery aggravating
circumstance was clearly supported by the
evidence. As the Louisiana Supreme Court
noted:

The evidence fully supports the jury’s
finding that Roberta Johnson died during
the commission of an armed robbery.
The defendant admitted that he adminis-
tered the fatal blows during the robbery
of Roberta. On the witness stand, de-
fendant gave a more detailed account of
the robbery. Police recovered $6,962.25
of the $7,686.60 taken from the Race-
track Service Station from defendant’s
motel room.

12. “To pass constitutional muster, a capital-sen-
tencing scheme must ‘genuinely narrow the
class of persons eligible for the death penalty
and must reasonably justify the imposition of a
more severe sentence on the defendant com-
pared to others found guilty of murder.’” Low-
enfield v. Phelps, —- U.S. ——, 108 S.Ct. 546,
554, 98 L.Ed.2d 568 (1988) (quoting Zant v.
Stephens, 462 U.S. 862, 877, 103 S.Ct. 2733, 2742,
77 L.Ed.2d 235 (1983)). Byrne contends, how-

‘ever cursorily, that because one of the aggravat-

\ing circumstances found by the jury at the sen-
tencing phase was identical to an element of the
Cé.nital crime of which he was convicted—-name-
ly, that Johnson was killed during the commis-
sion \of an armed robbery—the jury's focus was
not sufficiently narrowed. This “double count-
ing,” Byrne argues, mandates a new sentencing
hearinig.

The Supreme Court, however, expressly reject-
e@ this argument in Lowenfield. As the Su-
*preme Court stated:

Here, the “narrowing function” was per-
formed by the jury at the guilt phase when it
found defendant guilty of three counts of
murder under the provision that “the offender
has a specific intent to kill or to inflict great
bodily harm upon more than one person.”
The fact that the sentencing jury is also re-
quired to find the existence of an aggravating
circumstance in addition is no part of the
constitutionally-required narrowing process,
and so the fact that the aggravating circum-
stance duplicated one of the elements of the

Byrne, 483 So.2d at 576. “That court’s
determination is entitled to great weight in
our review.” Wingo v. Blackburn, 7186
F.2d 654, 655 (5th Cir.1986), cert. denied,
—— U.S. ——, 107 S.Ct. 1984, 95 L.Ed.2d
823 (1987). This aggravating circumstance
alone was sufficient to authorize the impo-
sition of the death penalty and there has
been no legitimate challenge to its legal
validity in this case.'* Byrne’s death sen-
tence, therefore, was not constitutionally
impaired by the jury’s finding of an invalid
aggravating circumstance.'* See James,
827 F.2d at 1012-13; see also Zant v. Ste-
phens, 462 U.S. 862, 875-89, 103 S.Ct. 2738,
2741-44, 77 L.Ed.2d 235 (1983); Celestine
v. Butler, 823 F.2d 74, 78 (5th Cir.), cert.
denied, —— U.S. ——, 108 S.Ct. 6, 97 L.Ed.
2d 796 (1987).

E. Exclusion of Mitigating Evidence

[12] Byrne, relying on Skipper for the
proposition that the sentencer may not be
precluded from considering any relevant
mitigating evidence, argues that mitigating
evidence was impermissibly kept from the

crime does not make this sentence constitu-
tionally infirm. There is no question but that
the Louisiana scheme narrows the class of
death-eligible murderers and then at the sen-
tencing phase allows for the consideration of
mitigating circumstances and the exercise of
discretion. The Constitution requires no
more.
Lowenfield, 108 S.Ct. at 555. In the instant
case, at the very least, the narrowing function
was performed by the jury at the guilt phase
when it found Byrne guilty of murder under the
provision that “the offender has specific intent
to kill or to inflict great bodily harm and is
engaged in the perpetration ... of ... armed
robbery, or simple robbery.” The fact that one
of the aggravating circumstances was one of the
elements of the crime does not render the sen-
tence constitutionally infirm.

13. We note in passing that the jury in Byrne’s
case also found, as the second aggravating cir-
cumstance, that the crime was committed in a
particularly heinous, atrocious and cruel man-
ner. The Louisiana Supreme Court concluded
that the jury could reasonably have found the
existence of this aggravating circumstance.
Byrne, 483 So.2d at 576 n. 6. As we have deter-
mined that Byrne’s sentence was sufficiently
authorized by the finding of the armed robbery
aggravating circumstance, we see no need to
rule on either the factual or legal sufficiency of
the second aggravating circumstance as applied
in this case.

516

jury in the instant case. First, Byrne
claims that Fish and Stinson failed “to se-
cure documents. from the United States’
Army to mitigate allegations of his court
martial and secure evidence concerning
[Byrne’s] mental condition.” Next, Byrne
complains that Fish and Stinson failed to
lay a proper foundation for the evidence
they did have concerning Byrne’s military
record. Finally, Byrne faults Fish and
Stinson for failing to contest the trial
court’s ruling excluding this evidence on
appeal.

At the guilt stage of trial, Byrne testified
that he was honorably discharged from the
Army and remained on inactive reserve.
Byrne also explained that while he was in
the Army, he was arrested for criminal
damage to property and disturbing the
peace in connection with his tossing a tear
gas grenade into a motorcycle club. Ap-
parently, Byrne was also charged with pos-
session of marijuana while in the Army.
Byrne testified that none of the offenses he
had committed was a felony.

At the sentencing stage, counsel for
Byrne called Byrne’s father to testify.
Byrne’s father testified generally as to
Byrne’s service in the military and specifi-
cally as to a military commendation re-
ceived by Byrne. In addition, Byrne’s fa-
ther testified that a letter from Byrne’s
commander and the commendation showed
that his son “did an exceptionally good job”
and received an honorable discharge. Dur-
ing cross-examination, the state prosecutor
questioned Byrne’s father about several
less than savory aspects of his son’s mili-
tary career. In particular, the state prose-
cutor sought to elicit information concern-
ing Byrne’s court martial in Korea for be-
ing absent without leave (“AWOL”) for
approximately four days. Byrne’s father,
however, managed to explain that one can
be charged with AWOL for being gone for
as short as a few hours and, on re-direct
examination, Byrne’s father testified that
AWOL charges were not an unusual occur-

rence in the military. He also agreed that .

even servicemen who had been in “a num-
ber of serious AWOLS” could receive hon-
orable discharges. Moreover, Byrne’s fa-
ther testified that a summary court martial

845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

—such as the one Byrne received in Louisi-
ana for being AWOL—was less serious
than a regular court martial.

Later, the state prosecutor attempted to
introduce a certified copy of what purport-
ed to be Byrne’s military records. Stinson
objected to the introduction of the records
on the grounds that “[t]hey’ve not been
properly identified and there’s been no
foundation laid for their introduction.” As
the military person who allegedly certified
the records was not called to testify as to
the identity of the documents, the trial
court sustained Stinson’s objection. In ad-
dition, however, the trial court refused to
allow Stinson to introduce Byrne’s com-
mendations into evidence on the same
ground.

In his closing argument, the state prose-
cutor made a brief reference to Byrne’s
troubles in the Army:

We learned from him when he testified
the first part of the trial that he had
some criminal convictions, minor convic-
tions—carrying a concealed weapon; dis-
turbing the peace; criminal. property
damage. I believe he said when he got
out of the military he had been court
martialed for marijuana _ possession.
Court martialed for AWOL. And some
other problems before he went into the
military. This is not a significant prior }
criminal history. But it’s also not an/

i

insignificant prior criminal history. 7

In response, Stinson painted a rosier pjic-

ture of Byrne’s service to his country ¥
Other mitigating circumstances: ys you
know that Edward at the age of eighteen
joined the Army. He served his country.
He hasn’t fought in a war, anythingslike
that, but he joined the Army, served “in
the Army. Served overseas in Korea in’,
the Army. He did have a problem. He —
was absent without leave, but the end
result was he was honorably discharged
from the United States Army. There’s a
lot of people that can’t say that about
themselves.

In rebuttal, the prosecutor made a single
reference to the “minor” troubles Byrne
had been in and, in what could be construed


| stages of his trial.!°

We will assume, for the sake of argu-
ment, that Byrne was in fact suffering
from a mental disorder and that such evi-
dence might well have been relevant both
as to competency and mitigation. Byrne
must still demonstrate, however, that his
attorneys had some indication that mental

impairment might prove a promising line of |

defense. See Wilson v. Butler, 813 F.2d
664, 671 (5th Cir.1987); see also James »v.
Butler, 827 F.2d 1006, 1017 (5th Cir.1987)
(where defendant did not advise counsel! of
possible defense centering on the impair-
ment of mental faculties due to drugs,
counsel’s pursuance of different line of de-
fense was not unreasonable). Byrne does
not allege that he intimated to his attor-
neys that he was suffering from a mental
disorder. Moreover, neither Byrne’s ac-
tions following the arrest nor his testimony
at the guilt stage of trial gave any hint of a
problem. Similarly, the testimony of
Byrne’s father, mother, sister and brother
was empty of any reference to psychologi-
cal difficulties. The record, therefore, fails
to provide any indication that a psychiatric
evaluation was warranted. Indeed, over-
whelming evidence of the calculated nature
of Byrne’s crime—a crime planned and
committed for pecuniary gain rather than
out of passion—belies any such notice.
Nevertheless, Byrne argues that the trial
cCyurt’s observations of Byrne’s behavior
dermonstrate that there were indications of

an t:nderlying mental disorder sufficient to

prom:at further investigation by competent

counse|. As the district court was quick to

point Out, however, the behavior noted by

the trial Gourt would be equally consistent

with the behavior of a callous individual

with ,jittle or no remorse for his crimes.

We cannot conclude, therefore, that Byrne

has demonstrated any indication that his

10. In support of his allegations, Byrne has sub-
mitted an affidavit from Marc L. Zimmerman, a
clinical psychologist. As this affidavit was not
presented to the district court, it is not part of
the record and, as a general rule, cannot be
considered. See Fed.R.App.P. 10; Scarborough
v. Kellum, 525 F.2d 931, 933 n. 4 (5th Cir.1976).
“Although a court of appeals will not ordinarily
enlarge the record to include material not be-
fore the district court, it is clear the authority

BYRNE v. BUTLER
Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (Sth Cir. 1988)

513

attorneys were alerted—or should have
been alerted—to the presence of an under-
lying mental disorder.

Byrne also asserts that his attorneys
were ineffective because they did not move
to suppress the fruits of what Byrne now
characterizes as an “illegal warrantless ar-
rest.” The district court found that Byrne
“{did] not come forward with one shred of
evidence or basis in the record to prove
that the arrest was, in fact, illegal or that
his attorney was aware of facts that war-
ranted a further investigation.” As the
Supreme Court has held:

Where defense counsel’s failure to liti-
gate a Fourth Amendment claim compe-
tently is the principal allegation of inef-
fectiveness, the defendant must also
prove that his Fourth Amendment claim
is meritorious and that there is a reason-
able probability that the verdict would
have been different absent the excluda-
ble evidence in order to demonstrate ac-
tual prejudice.

Kimmelman v. Morrison, 4717 U.S. 365,
106 S.Ct. 2574, 2583, 91 L.Ed.2d 305 (1986).
Byrne argues that if given the opportunity
to present evidence at a hearing, he could
demonstrate that the arresting officers
were acting without a warrant. It is clear,
however, that bold assertions on a critical
issue in a habeas petition, unsupported and
unsupportable by anything else contained
in the record, are insufficient to warrant an
evidentiary hearing. See Joseph, 888 F.2d
at 788 (quoting Ross v. Estelle, 644 F.2d
1008, 1011 (5th Cir.1983) (per curiam)).

The record contradicts Byrne’s allega-
tions. Officer Harry James of the Lees-
ville Police Department, one of the officers
who arrested Byrne, testified that prior to
the arrest, he had a warrant number from
Bossier City for Byrne’s arrest. In addi-
tion, Detective Sergeant George West of

[to do so] exists.” Gibson v. Blackburn, 744
F.2d 403, 405 n. 3 (5th Cir.1984). In the instant
case, we will exercise our discretion and consid-
er the affidavit because it is immaterial to our
decision and also because by refusing to consid-
er it on the ground that it was not considered
below, we would only be setting the stage for a
subsequent habeas action in which Byrne would
seek to introduce the affidavit in the district
court.

Le

VI.

For the foregoing reasons, we DENY
Byrne’s application for a certificate of
i probable cause to appeal. In addition, we
GRANT the state’s petition to vacate the

stay of execution granted by the district
{ court.

. ALVIN B. RUBIN, Circuit Judge,
; concurring:

While the opinion in King v. Lynaugh !
has been vacated, I continue to believe that
the opinion was correct. This case, how-
ever, is different. In King some jurors
might have harbored the impression that a
defendant sentenced to life imprisonment
would become eligible for release from
prison within a few years by some type of
clemency. Byrne’s trial court twice in-
structed the jury that life imprisonment
meant life without probation, parole, or
suspension. In addition, the second time
Byrne’s counsel suggested to the jury that
“life meant life,” the court allowed the
suggestion to stand.

f
4

(o = KEY NUMBER SYSTEM

Em =

GAVEY PROPERTIES/762,
Plaintiff—Appellant,

Vv

FIRST FINANCIAL SAVINGS & LOAN
ASSOCIATION, et al.,
* _ Defendants—Appellees.

No. 87-1111.

, ‘ United States Court of Appeals,
Fifth Circuit.

May 10, 1988.

Commercial borrower sued federally
insured savings and loan association to re-
cover for association’s alleged usury. The
United States District Court for the South-

1. 828 F.2d 257, reh’g en banc granted, 828 F.2d

GAVEY PROPERTIES/762 v. FIRST FINANCIAL S. & L.
Cite as 845 F.2d 519 (5th Cir. 1988)

519

ern District of Texas, A. Joe Fish, J., held
that loan transaction was governed by Illi-
nois law and granted summary judgment in
favor of lender, and commercial borrower
appealed. The Court of Appeals, Edith H.
Jones, Circuit Judge, held that: (1) federal-
ly insured savings and loan association
could charge highest of three possible in-
terest rates, including rate allowed by laws
of state, territory or district where such
association was located, and (2) parties
could not contract out of federal statute
allowing association to charge such rates.

Affirmed.

1. Building and Loan Associations <—32

Federally insured savings and loan as-
sociation may charge highest of three pos-
sible interest rates, including rate allowed
by laws of state, territory or district where
such association is located. National Hous-
ing Act, § 414(a), as amended, 12 U.S.C.A.
§ 1730g(a).

2. Building and Loan Associations ¢—32

Commercial borrower and federally in-
sured savings and loan association from
which it obtained loan could not contract
out of federal statute authorizing associa-
tion to charge certain interest rates, includ-
ing rate allowed by laws of state, territory
or district where such association was lo-
cated. National Housing Act, § 414(a), as
amended, 12 U.S.C.A. § 1730g(a).

C. Henry Kollenberg, Schlanger, Cook,
Cohn, Mills & Grossberg, Houston, Tex.,
for plaintiff-appellant.

Jerry P. Jones, Thompson & Knight, Dal-
las, Tex., for defendants-appellees.

Dorothy L. Nichols, Sr. Associate Gener-
al Counsel, Washington, D.C., amicus curi-
ae, Federal Home Loan Bank Bd.

Appeal from the United States District
Court for the Southern District of Texas.

269 (Sth Cir.1987).

j BYRNE v. BUTLER

d17

Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (5th Cir. 1988)

as a subtle aside, told the jury that ‘(w]e
can’t go AWOL on our duties.”

There is no disputing that the Supreme
Court’s decisions in Lockett v. Ohio, 438
U.S. 586, 604, 98 S.Ct. 2954, 2964, 57 L.Ed.
2d 973 (1978), and Eddings v. Oklahoma,
455 U.S. 104, 110, 102 S.Ct. 869, 874, 71
L.Ed.2d 1 (1982), require that the sentencer
in a capital case not be precluded from
considering, as a mitigating factor, any as-
pect of a defendant’s character or record.
Skipper, 106 8.Ct. at 1670-71. “Equally
clear is the corollary rule that the sentenc-
er may not refuse to consider or be pre-
cluded from considering ‘any relevant migi-
tating evidence.” Jd. at 1671 (quoting
Eddings, 455 U.S. at 114, 102 S.Ct. at 877);
see also Hitchcock v. Dugger, ——- US.
——, ——, 107 S.Ct. 1821, 1824, 95 L.Ed.2d
347 (1987). For several reasons, however,
we find that Byrne has failed to raise a
colorable constitutional claim on this issue.

With respect to Byrne’s charge that his
attorneys failed to secure mitigating evi-
dence about his court martials, the district
court correctly noted that “Byrne does not
specify which evidence should have been
proffered concerning his military record;
thus, it cannot be determined whether the
evidence would have likely affected the
outcome of the penalty phase.” Indeed,
given the fact that Stinson successfully
Objected to the state prosecutor’s attempt
to introduce into evidence what purported
to Ine Byrne’s military records, it would be
; logical to assume that the prejudicial im-

pact “of drawing further attention to
Byrne’s. military record may well have out-
weighed any mitigating benefit. As it was,

the jury was only confronted by several

brief references to Byrne’s troubles in the

> mjhitary—all of which were explained away
_y either Byrne or his father through testi-
mony. Byrne has failed to concretely al-
lege the existence of specific mitigating

é

a 14. In so holding, however, we are careful to
note—as did the district court—that had the
trial court excluded the evidence solely on the
basis of relevance, its action may well have
violated the well-established principle that the
sentencer may not refuse to consider or be
precluded from considering any relevant miti-

evidence which his attorneys should have
secured.

Next, Byrne argues that his attorneys
should have appealed the trial court’s ex-
clusion of evidence of the alleged certifi-
cate and letter given to Byrne by the mili-
tary. Byrne argues that since these doc-
uments constituted relevant, mitigating evi-
dence, their exclusion was improper under
Skipper. Byrne does not contest the fact,
however, that his trial counsel failed to
properly identify the documents and did not
lay a proper foundation before attempting
to introduce the documents. As a result,
the trial court’s action did not fall within
the ambit of Skipper.'* Byrne’s attor-
neys’ failure to raise the argument on ap-
peal, therefore, did not constitute ineffec-
tive assistance of counsel.

[13] This brings us to the heart of the
matter; was Byrne accorded constitutional-
ly ineffective assistance of counsel due to
his attorneys’ failure to lay a proper foun-
dation for introducing the purported award
certificate and letter from Byrne’s com-
manding officer? We must answer that
query in the negative. In order to lay a
proper foundation, Byrne’s attorneys
would presumably have had to call some-
one from the military to testify. Had a
military witness taken the stand in order to
allow counsel to get the mitigating military
documents into evidence, it is equally con-
ceivable that Byrne’s military records could
then have been successfully entered as
well. As Byrne’s attorneys sought to keep
Byrne’s military records—which included,
presumably, some specific information
about his court martials and arrests—away
from the jury, the decision not to call a
military witness would appear to be a tacti-
cal decision.

Even assuming that Byrne’s attorneys
were unreasonably deficient in failing to
get the documents into evidence, Byrne has
failed to demonstrate that he was preju-

gating evidence. See Skipper, 106 S.Ct. at 1670-
71. As the trial court’s ruling was nothing more
than an evenhanded application of rules govern-
ing the introduction of evidence, see id. at 1671,
we cannot conclude that Byrne was denied the
opportunity to present mitigating evidence.

a

518 845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

diced as a result. As the Supreme Court

has stated:
When a defendant challenges a death
sentence such as the one at issue in this
case, the question is whether there is a
reasonable probability that, absent the
errors, the sentencer—including an ap-
pellate court, to the extent it indepen-
dently reweighs the evidence—would
have concluded that the balance of ag-
gravating and mitigating circumstances
did not warrant death.

Strickland, 466 U.S. at 695, 104 S.Ct. at
2068-69. In the instant case, Byrne’s fa-
ther testified briefly about the contents of
the documents and the jury was repeatedly
informed that Byrne received an honorable
discharge and that his crimes were insignif-
icant or minor. Similarly, the state prose-
cutor failed to emphasize Byrne’s military
problems in closing arguments. While we
do not conclude that an attorney’s failure
to assure the introduction of certain miti-
gating evidence could never constitute inef-
fective representation, we find that in the
instant case, Byrne has failed to meet the
serious burden imposed on him by Strick-
land.

Vv.

Our standard for review of a stay of
execution is essentially the same as the
measure for granting a stay. Selvage, at
91. Generally, we must consider:

15. Byrne’s attempt to fold the mitigating evi-
dence analysis of cases like Skipper into the
ineffective assistance of counsel jurisprudence
of Strickland and its progeny creates a concep-
tual quandry of no small order. Byrne argues
that if the trial court had excluded the evidence
as irrelevant, we would be forced to remand for
a new sentencing hearing since the jury should
not have been precluded from considering the
information. Therefore, the argument goes, if
the jury was instead prevented from considering
relevant, mitigating evidence by the actions of
counsel—thereby compromising the reliability
of the sentencing determination—counsel’s rep-
resentation was per se ineffective. Byrne would
have us force the state to demonstrate that the
attorneys’ failure to introduce the evidence con-
stituted harmless error as might excuse a true
Skipper violation. See Hitchcock, 107 S.Ct. at
1824. By so doing, we would be carving a less
demanding harmless error niche for Byrne into
the more onerous Strickland requirement that

°

(1) whether the movant has made a
showing of likelihood of success on the
merits, (2) whether the movant has
made a showing of irreparable injury if
the stay is not granted, (8) whether the
granting of the stay would substantial-
ly harm the other parties, and (4)
whether the granting of the stay
would serve the public interest.

O’Bryan v. McKaskle, 729 F.2d 991, 993
(5th Cir.1984); O'Bryan v. Estelle, 691
F.2d 706, 708 (5th Cir.1982), cert. denied,
465 U.S. 1018, 104 8.Ct. 1015, 79 L.Ed.2d
245 (1984); Ruiz v. Estelle, 666 F.2d 854,
856 (5th Cir.1982).

In a capital case, “while the movant
need not always show a probability of
success on the merits, he must present a
substantial case on the merits when a
serious legal question is involved and
show that the balance of the equities [i.e.
the other three factors} weighs heavily in
the favor of granting the stay.”
O’Bryan v. McKaskle, 729 F.2d at 993
(quoting Ruiz v. Estelle, 666 F.2d at
856).

Celestine v. Butler, 823 F.2d at 77. As
Byrne has failed to present a substantial
case on the merits and has failed to demon-
strate that the balance of the equities
weighs heavily in his favor, there is no
ground for the issuance of a stay and,
therefore, the stay previously granted by,
the district court is vacated.

Byrne demonstrate deficient performance and

prejudice before securing relief. We are Iwathe

to sanction this unjustified exception to Strick-
land’s general teachings. “The constityational

norms by which effectiveness of crimin; Al repre-
sentation is measured extend equally t® the guilt
and sentencing phases of capital trials." Bald-
win, 704 F.2d at 1332; see also Stricklana; 466
U.S. at 686-87, 104 S.Ct. at 2063-64. Werei we
to hold that a single evidentiary error in thxe
introduction of arguably inconsequential, albeit
relevant, mitigating evidence at the sentencing

phase of a capital trial constituted ineffective

representation absent a showing of harmless-

ness, we would impose an impossible burden on

trial counsel. Such a ruling would be akin to

mandating “super effective” representation at

the sentencing phase of a capital trial. Regard-

less of the wisdom or folly of such action, we

are constrained by precedent from steering the

course urged on us by Byrne.


520

Before GARWOOD and JONES,
Circuit Judges, and BLACK “, District
Judge.

EDITH H. JONES, Circuit Judge:

Appellant, Gavey Properties/762 (‘‘Ga-
vey”), seeks reversal of the summary judg-
ment denying relief on its claim of usury
against Appellee, First Financial Savings &
Loan Association (“First Financial’’).! The
district court, interpreting 12 U.S.C.
§ 1730g(a), held that the loan was gov-
erned by Illinois law, which does not im-
pose a commercial loan usury limit. We
affirm the district court’s construction of
the “most-favored lender” provision of the
Depository Institutions Deregulation and
Monetary Control Act of 1980 (DIDMCA).

BACKGROUND

Gavey, located in Texas, negotiated a
loan from First Financial, located in Ili-
nois, to finance the renovation of a Dallas-
area apartment project it owned. The loan
commitment, executed in January 1982, re-
quired Gavey to submit an opinion of coun-
‘sel attesting “that the interest rates
charged on the loan did not exceed the
maximum applicable rate allowed by the
law of the jurisdiction where the property
is located.”

The loan was closed the following month.
The note executed by Gavey states that the
parties intended for the laws of the state of
Texas and the United States to control the

* District Judge of the Southern District of Texas,
sitting by designation.

1. First Financial was succeeded by First Federal
Savings and Loan Association of Chicago which
assumed First Financial’s assets and liabilities.
Citicorp Savings of Illinois subsequently suc-
ceeded First Federal, assuming its assets and
liabilities.

2. “It is the intention of the parties hereto to
conform strictly to the applicable laws of the
state of Texas and the United States of America
and judicial and/or administrative interpreta-
tions or determinations thereof (“law”), regard-
ing the contracting for, charging and receiving
of interest for the use of and detention of mon-

”

ey.

3. Paragraph 23: “It is intended that this deed of
trust is made with reference to and shali be

i

845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

usury limits of the transaction.” The note
also states that it is secured by a wrapa-
round deed of trust and that the conditions
of the deed of trust are incorporated into
the note. The deed of trust provides that it
is governed by Texas law.? Finally, Gavey
executed a letter to First Financial to af-
firm, somewhat contradictorily, that the
loan it was undertaking was intended to be
a business loan as outlined in “Chapter 74,
section 4, paragraph C”’, Illinois usury law.
Il].Rev.Stat.1980 Supp., Chap. 74, 1] 4(e).

At the pertinent times, the usury limit in
Texas was no higher than 28%. Although
the loan may have been intended to fall
within this limit if it had been paid accord-

ing to schedule, the effective interest rate

significantly exceeded 28% because Gavey
paid off the loan early as a result of a
refinancing transaction.

DISCUSSION

[1] The interest rates of First Financial
were governed by 12 U.S.C. § 1730g(a).*
We interpret section 1730g(a) to allow a —
federally insured savings and loan associa-
tion to charge the highest of three possible

‘interest rates: the rate it would be permit-

ted to charge in the absence of the provi-
sion; a rate of not more than one percent
in excess of the discount rate on 90-day
commercial paper in effect at the Federal ;
Reserve Bank in the federal reserve dis-/
trict where such institution is located; off
the rate allowed by the laws of the stay ce,

construed as a Texas contract governed b/Y the
laws thereof.”

d

4. Section 1730g(a) states: “If the applig-able rate
prescribed in this section exceeds thé*,rate an
insured institution would be permitted towgharge
in the absence of this section, such instit’ytion
may, notwithstanding any state constitution yor
statute which is hereby preempted for the puts
poses of this section, take, receive, preserve, and
charge on any loan or discount made, or upon
any note, bill of exchange, or other evidence of
debt, interest at a rate of not more than one per
centum in excess of the discount rate on 90 day
commercial paper in effect at the Federal Re-
serve Bank and the federal reserve district
where such institution is located or at the rate
allowed by the laws of the state, territory, or
district where such institution is located, which-
ever may be greater.” (emphasis added).




ee (Cady) The Executlong O° *

'Y ys erdoy morning w crowd ‘assembled about the
thecity prison to ees amin dumed! Cadtche, uccuwed
ond fount guilty ofinurdyr, lod tv) exeruton, They

_ eveted to be Like the troubled vcean, ana fixed their
Wipatti@at gaze upun the door thro’ whieh he wue to
Poev to the tatal epot, Atloagth hy appedeed, and ‘bo
Rrogt was tha cuttusty to ecw hin ibat the, avenues tu
the prieon wore completely choked imp ;

When he got inte the cart, he bal adiou to all those
by whom he was suctounded, and Wok with an ape.
pirendy caruleas vic his seat upon tie pothia winel
whe ty cover lie moral remuns, At the gallows he

Keplup the samy indiferance, and renewed. Ine fare.
well to the apectatote,  Addreveinty the. bung-
man hy oveoreud, “anes loam yours Ns your-aa
ty. dud pupthe rope round hero,” indiguting the par
lcu!ar apot of his neck. ‘ . '»

By wu etrange fatality, tho hangman, Who wan prob:
ably unacquainted with his buane vy, wide the rope
foo long, and the culprit tell wih grew violence jo
‘ha ground upon the plauk being withdtawa Sure
priae andindignativa lor amoneat (ugned among the
crowd. Several denunciations wero heard ngninet
the hangman for his unskillulns sa; und justice was
about furanedy thia unluoked for citcunietunce, when
Dpon exaurnation it wan fourdty be allin watal ‘The
concussion was 80 greatthat the unfortunate wretch

had broke lis collar bune; and thus was the puniah-
mantol the law lu!filed. We aro aaeutrod that there
‘never waeacriminal who @xlublied greuter courage
sud self possearion. ‘The number af persdns prosent
was immense, greator than wae ever seon uponu piu

lar occasion jn Vue city. ,
oe BS


0°07 7 waxrts is the’ndene.of [he val. fay individ- |)
vit who expiusted his e jmedaat Fridd e and nor Cy
dithe*ne erated by ne. ¢: The names ware confuunded’
*from the IntteP dln, aE ofa luryinon who.fbied the |
Re: Phe, rae? es ”

are.
Jv as


CAPACI, John & DALLEM, George, whs, hanged M&MXWX Gretna, LA May

‘

| ON

Ldled—wn-the—paiiowr-efethenJetfarsory

the murdex.of. CharirenRabiio, Naw
‘Orleans, crocery clerk, losing a le-
tp p pe Daleett net etasled wp ear ands
PETS AN OUTTA UP EMTE COUT

| Gerrand robbery, January 3, 1933. al

L ber yen Capecl- ¥riday~ mornings ysid'}
Yar]. Sullivan ‘of, New Orleans com:

TWO-PAY- PENALTY:
“GALLOWS: FOR

ry 4 ’ SeinneEnntn seeeeaell

+ ee ee pe Se

€ ath rie Jefferson
~—ns:Dallaozand: Capatio-
Die

By Malice 0, Proot Wr Rade
Ceorge Dallao and John Capecl

parish sprisons at Oreina between
noon .end:.12:% .p, m, Friday for

(aes

n . 4 y ote e °
they” palé” (he penally for the mur.

Dridgedale, Jefferson. parish, just
autide New Orleans, of Tadilo, who
was siain and rodbed of $900 and].
"yoo" lA ehacke ha ean “rolic 30 da |.!
posit In a benk-sor hip employers, |:
—W he-Heed=the-t reves rete: phat? der).
Radite, continuce elfiaially a mys

mlited the murder, ~ Bulllvan recant>
ly dled of & wound wecelved fn a}.
ahdit. foray al! Bhreveport: * Dallag
died sebetinalely “silent, ~ Doth men
OF he waltae dan! cat swrerccgartmasn, sah onal Newry
Cathelle Church,/ to which they
turoed.in thelr lat heurs,.
Than Je Dealed
potaslidaye plea Cor, a repeleve sDY
vernoy 0. K, Allen eof toulslana,
based err Dallac’s alleced “eonlsan

ricenst hank robbery, and, willingness

slon’’ ‘of. participation lp a. New. Or-

te testify for the stale, proved frulte |.
\eas, ‘ : t . ee ole od
+ Bherllf Frank J, Clancy “ol” Jele,
farsoth parish ts firma In hus belief
thet. Dallao, planned the crims and
slew Nablto, Deputy Sherits Pau) v.,
Caosarne ts equally firm In the. bef
OTN CA past planned anf com:|.
mitted the murder. They were the],
closest of any twa living men tomthe |;
lwe sines thele arrest, Tbs -stgod
on bain slen ole-the two men ‘a4,).
they Wrepped to death, ,Cassagne’a

meatage: “Coad-bye,, Chorces” and
on your way (a. heaven, John?"
reng in the, cars.of Utalwo xecoted
men as they: dropped throughs tira }

paint ote
- phoTablje, 2407 Napaleon avec
nug, aldest brother of Charles Nabdl- |
‘Lo,o Lneerol alar-mareases raw terescned tre
panging of Dallso and Capacl dy Ja
flatloniel Short Clancys m-" se")
> Radbite stood’ stent’ before the" cale

~—

—

of

Somer

fe eaees EB YS calnalbin gia. ssy,'"= ha-told

Sows, hls Jae cepebed, and watebed
the lwa men who had olain. and
TOod+d Wa brothir ae,

Teport ers, lee

It waa noon, sD, when Dallas
was ibandcutted by Deputy Bheritl
Pepa. (Dusd) Lasom, and slarted<bis |:

p.-m, when the “noosa wa, placed

i. A

‘Contin wad on Vars Mes 7 mi

‘

er malin

death. miaceh « Landen al brorey= 12 706 1

Ve

| arwund: his necks 1248, Py mo. arbery-
be dropped throurh the trap... and
x3 Moder"

18, 1934

TIMES-PICAYUNE,
New Orleans, LA
May 19, 1934 (P1) .

Nh Bb mee ne
‘ Tee! TT NANT OT OG Du. whee .Capicl,

4 handculled, eit Bi [er the salle vex |
8d SON AKG 4 10pe Wad placed

iM pm om, when

“TWO PAY PENALTY

UWS FOR

| * RABTOSMURDE

fo Crowd Ci care

a

*5 SES Dellaormd- apne

j ‘Dio - “a agh

Se sie °

° a

2 + *
»

an Oe aioe loom Pare-Ond

ae Rey . sme tes mbps see tes
. ze Joelle
nbunce'd wy dena, °

Capact Wlarts

wl ;

fae parle, Ph

ot Meme 4 28 00m Oo mm eee lene emmmaee o>.

Shout hts neek, $2
TT 8 SIRO hovers was pulled

“ theourh the . Vp, and 32:33 py, om,

shen ie oven offl
Mite’ 4

in *floecteset, drop

Ing above 30 po Pounds, ‘they ° carotid |”
oi, SPbertoe and Juyular meal were’ perv.
te SPOS by the ORR, naa SAY ered | +
tS hele Weinigee ie alls Aabody |.
tps NAS “talee alicadaau

“Tt *tne win honed ’
TA rv "brouch(" aul 1 I eee

Men's | taken |
“entire by N08 Orta undertunere

¢ undertakers

« butted by thelr families,

gt. a’ re Md af, Allerwale
la,’ the Cretna “yall,
BEIME tines: the

=~ founadine and?

eine of the an

hay “WIT Con Sted, and ovens
te Mar ec dangles elimowhite |:
eA 4n..1aq Jellersnh partsh latory,

Owleledt wlta *eNoment! &

oh ee Narr ed Nem Public’: Vexy*
' We rallwe wal dbulllydn the” ‘yan’

vem Der aUee whee was, built,
ana's legal rccullans wepe h
Maton Rov,o

mmm Hert ory

se BAA old [tar]
IM i Avenue sand 8

fosred ja tha sraay abethe Jal,
eat Jall aad Kdrage, and a twe.
Alory weoden (rareqwork=wrs, placed

= MP aUlan~? A capeed sts 8 dF "44 fost
ee 7

War” barred> troca~purite: View,

Sa ee PESTS i tances
“"EUher ‘ln Veent NM [he weven wiles
fence INot>ourrnunds the Jal}. Dallae
WAT CK See) onl? Ad yo wore? at thelr

devotions,” " The Nev, Sydney: Balto
HATLOR,  peleng’ gheptaln,: mrsleled by
the Rev. * Ovwr'ze,, Mae amara a

the Rev, James }, Ryan, deth’
tbe Sacred. VMeart thureh” Canal ca

Tapes strvets, New kone 'yather
. Ryse soles Ortean

Wlhs Pr
» @pantaln oltlelated gat’ oe

Lerrina} autalds the’ sfoath eoNle, "The,
Ziwe Spvdamnee pesto

aht in
+ Bethe anclent wooden
TRENT WITT Thi Oars.) ary @
New Mele *. Vrloalar
: Sl6gm alrves

ar Arak feet Beoe ¢ iss ood
Retlae’ nega beth had wn

an oyster shadwiyh apg & bott!

ef deer at 3 Pe ebvEMAy,:

was tha’ INbte meraay * :
Noaseatl thelr

ae: 4 ba eee
THEA” =f ef apeleult.
Tiled eee “and tables, which’ were)

ign aim \
foed,. aweed oll ret: hiaky,”
feed... Doth 4a a eee ns ooh
Vee s
Mere: laulee Barert and Lire, Rene
Durel, hath af New Oricans, foined

the trecutlon-smorning- Consolers la
a

WAV Moaled/ tha seunds af hymas,
oth, Dallas. 1 2%b-~Capecteoangs *buety
Iv, Thesnund 36 the singing mins,
sled with thei exeeution talk below,”

bikers Wurreux: $¢., Ver.
An Willy, §. Werman Gaudet,” Ad.
“rt CeB Ir elas Sydney, Marlex. and:
onal Chrittlaa, te | ar 6 ia
ge Wd thare i were: Wiliam
sererll,- a, M¢Dedald:~ -Joneph
lier Leule lorp chet Fo
%.,' giule Manys and -Xé4want An

° mow ore ws
a os s,’ a

They watherad mn the shersts at.

tee, Vrengetly Weary Meyers, Now

tleana hankwten,-arriyed wlth hile

See. tee deputy“o” bed tesin” 1s hs F

‘toon he Kressadnthe hampsn’.cocd

hn lord, them ‘rudbea IFS velths ee

*P. Med the knate “at ei{her aad,

wae pald Tien for fach haaring,
Md. L_sheel(L Claney, %

VA btdetddmoperlaters - had

waed, lale ety All be news. They

anit cattve™ and whieky,  diocvencd

Mat executlona, \atered the bp dreem
te LET iter eae
Nor rape te fouch it Yiee “
ddod huadopds '? quislds —phaaccg
salna't Ihe Weven wire lees,
ALLA ca me ~Xhesll{nClaney weal
V' lathe, daat matt ad = the,
th"? rele he Dale and Cr!
» Dgliao oxt ‘oat
kOe TR lage Silvacgseca pact
OT rn reer ee Ste
Al: a oy mpinnad a tala
TAL ls trom’ ble. shirt BAL UN dhe:
mn: hand planed I~ on. Dharil/
anty's’ coal peCm a . ‘on, aad
“Tou've bee awal} to, tno, ah ee'y
me be -oaldeettl Ww antete C¥tvd myrar
a Key; 1 Gp TIT waatcis |
ank you Tarmall You've’ ‘hone far |
“4 Thaps, TOU'TT’ he sherllf. ore: ‘s
1K Ung, Now LS. thea ahd ''de]

easictl Wap Gre shri=

eee - The oh Ray erm
x elaanqed anes i Ubraueh »padiar

nee Farmrement PE,

Niel hetwre noon, the ‘fede petal
asehed the death” ean, allleed’ ta
veeek,- evry *stase,-+* hp per
ynhoven led the last service. Ulth

° the dyla :
rin Cass wounded |
Co . Ss os :
ty

Sapact knelt jy d
att holding the” bary,
Qi re

th men ee cae


"That's! a gred message,” ase Heme, 3206 Canal street, PE ted
parted ‘one of fhe Slaters of Mercy, vey
os J hdaten te -eallga Capsel ste some- epee Cetincaser
bedy, In). tha. er wd belqus “That's ee meme —-
vey zaugt over’. there, .dreened “elf o¢_Solving’ 1Q °C ee
Diack. Atk her_bow my. poetrer?

, Pon't need sdt> ne. ‘mare, You take, u

to (Nelr eel] windows,
Jo the. crowd. Rely. aps emenm rn me

: eer 5
calling ous] atreet, ‘wlth ‘Interment inne M te
eemolrry, or ome momen: © Th CeNeNNT ow

POM, eh gc AE
“Come ent Pray ‘or ust
titee yo tenaalled out Dallghs pn

‘Deoa't”

—Yinal-eltes Yor Conse!
daunituisstyaatelor this alles naan -
the wat J, Mei shonsColurn db uneral

holding, vp.” . Mas ia ee
men, Capzel drank, ‘Dalle Ye asiRE,
«Dee's fake too much ‘af,
"Jonn’*-ene dl the Sisters-of

asked Capacl.

SY Weel be,2.

derey

~Nebert reeks, \eyaareuld negre
+ The .wateh-bands pulnted t¢ nooa. é
The pepyors ended, Ta marehdd Shots] Orr y ny?! smptorrd se .

\(e°Claney, aceempanled vy Deputy):
Mheri(ls Gassagne rad ‘aren’ “s
“H's habs ores Coorys,"= nheritt :
Clancy tell eae “Les ge.” «
ra VO" Vatd Dalian, We
reachdd. wh hot sad punted put
a Wiis Wyte. ¢ phen ret?
“omy kid “Zave mie thle,” m0!
Depry ‘Eng riLi-camretdoMeF alors wt

Keep-tt js iymber* me. ? er: :
Magglore took It," teurd a
dewn his face. + F
Deputy, Bheril(l) Tasen handeulfed
Dallae’s bands , behind Dia back.
Witr the ‘prigets reeling thy, "titany
Las theD yl cL a td

‘Deputys Mheritt* Lesen tldde" banikd,
Dallas started hla dealhomareh, Mls],
lips reved in the response of the ite
any. .

a tower’ Nay Orleans and Jellere
Aru = en, paca poys,.taree- swhitecandsenc.
an whisky = sNereds wae netre, Une ‘nulherliles awe the evle,
donee Ural threw tHe ntl wl the baw?
ayifily about. George
Johan Capact, he

se Rach hanced Felilasta-Cosin

a hard ols ealile-lrom: a pasture 200 | |
yacds from the Alrline WUlehway in!
Jelferson pariah when he saw. Mae |q
Vito, Prot, Ike wat"the: enty' eyewlt- ,
neas, He’ Tan theoyrh tha, elds uaa],
AM he wart “Wittheya J, sAndrows,. JT,
‘Deldgedale, whe had seen Mya autps
*‘medile speed away, "Yeung Andrew
camdeadeced ins Atenas nhs e.——
on Tr patrick Hedced,~ V7 3 De
alreat,
4807 “Celaplars street,
te achool, had seen a- ‘an Shrew a
platel Inte the South Claiborne aye
nue canal [rom an aulomohile which
Breed 6 termed weir ter rh= ttl al bere avy rue
Clancy and Dapuly Aperite Cancarne, and tuen cia L_Dubiiaaiaeet- ew ard:
the rivar,*

-

Nallae and

4

Dublte*y
ii,
on ihelet way

sand Morris’ “Vollenwieder,

ALAA yp hemal len lood =the tO—v tape’
TUhat.. Jod—tom the—pallewereos tears]
Head erect, “sheulders squared, He
took his’ place yn the troy. The hance
poan, started -ia the hiv ankles,”

“Walt a ralnuta,”? be eased, "Take
eft ’my shee.” |

“Hla shove ware eyes [; Bareleel:
‘e4, be stood dm ihe syacholsterl.-.

Kener” ‘Glaney, "Deput ener lll

Cassaimes kept’ pastien’) “on the

shoulders, * e
° vm AQ Right .

“Neiiember what, Jeha told. you,’
sald Cassarne, “Keep yuur bead vp.
ye tke
sve ait right, Paul,” 0afa “Dulles,
NJuet toll me at before they pvil’
tha trap.”
*% , Hatheen, Wyahscantsmwales: conllns
a jn the; Wiany, Dallne’s INpe were
moving “In response ae the dlack noed
want aver sau, ~The hangmen
adjusted the noosa’ adaut hie neck,
“Qeod-bye,* care fhintly mul lied
rv) rg tree conga he
a Pothewnte ae
i" Depuly ante

"Coed: sh yea (learge;!'
we Cassarne éalled,
oS Patewe Bkiftington* hed maved fore [
‘ward where the body hung. + The

“pelea ating at, —dippad.la—the= hele

vanalaleds*

oll: Datlee’s* eheat, we THA.
Lratee..s ae

thatle Chirch
Mbt aes TT
'

Ware oe

xa ne. Amen,” :

Proves nyt eve body’, af.
ad ‘hunge melioniass, Thes
om Cacve forward, tlathnscops
-Matenedelyr the, heart: ther
“had ixpne silent forevarz and xv
malted (Ter the dqpuly shertlly.te eut

Ysew met
bow’ “malnulese lator =Sate s Ca past

rT?

"Dalian ‘benke: dawn

wa * fag game wie we
. Eyldence xiteon hy thoee “bexe : oo”
formed the clunsa on which is het of

me 6 iisae o = ee ar

+eoeee ew en cane coemmesemy

ee cee

Deleclivea Jahn” x "Orench .warkad.”
areampanied by Detectives Prank J.
tannes end Alfred Malane, and De.

ian ea eek. Waller Sern. |
mer Ulta sGgvecn Wilda,
Van indervourt.: are oe

Valrelman Stanley: Needh af ‘the
Ninth, ~Vrecines retrieved the. plato!
trom the Beuth: Clalbarne canal and
ured UW ever” ta, Ueheeuven Veorrey
Vilma m- and” Edwin Mulex, A check
awa hope shuwed that tha gun
had.been, pawned. at. a Bowth Iam:
PACU alecet Iman .oflive June 33,.1931,-
vy Mra, * Lialimahs, 1729 Pelymata
Ee en Te

—Thersviemsbie=war ; re traced--te
Charles Mabliy of 3119 General’ Tay-
lor. irert, 2 grocery ‘Clerk,. whe
proved tw ha tha murdered man, ..
" The gun was (raced te Ceorre Vale
tan, :

Malllaite toate tay Maurles' 1
OTM ere BoTTe
bureaw at identilleatlun,sprivad thes,
Rahitenhad=geenm xine Hy Cae Wale
Yots fired fram Dallan’s gun,
and

oe

a wa

TON af Al year)

ance re

ta, ve Ltumnelepr
# nie! Wee , repratia

me Broken,’
duwn_hu_chesl..:...
Dallaa and sper ttn la es

ernecuted In double naneinss igs ral

: weuld come
‘ment ry -soe

same scalfold,
Yunerei services foe
held al. pa boal

ukiag parlory ‘al

Dallae yi ‘ea!

ofeach tp

“Palle, pret ene orth

———

oN

’ . ead
arr ae od

yo Oe O00 mee eee

rar ein ths,

Mebtirese0 2:
dona -Capedl $a.b
erlme, < epee te
© sonnet ete. wast
<—DiNte Senter lel “rect reused ’
e

he
Caan hay.
lag dired (he fall shots, Fi

Voth were “charg edanlthn myrder in )
thay dlatelet : court, af. Qre(na, oth
were convleted, In: Way, 3923, , Noth
y “#QnItnced te “deatn,’ They? cars
led theole legal tight to the Louis.
AGA.AUPFeine court but, Jout:
aA* Aelriexecution dat oy
Made di fousht for rimeney ng
Dy Deer MUTA A wnoThesbisslocs
hie eVerner {bine Deth Were: con.

ont that: “laalemjaUle-reKele re
te “akon VP lo the mo. |
were led nut toe" pe" hanred, ‘|


59 SOUTHERN 202 (Note: According to appeal, Brother Lucien Canton was acquitted.) ‘

CANTON, Rene, hanged Louisiana State Prison (Orleans Parish) on January 3, 1913.

"New Orleans, Nove 1, 1911-Edgar H, Farrar, Jr., son 9f the former president of the
American Bar Association, was shot and killed at 10 0 clock today at the corner of
Piniston and Magnolia Streets, by two unidentified highwaymen, The robbers escaped,
but less than two hours after the shooting were captured and had made a confession to
the police, They are Leon Canton, alias J, 0, Helms, and Lucien Canton, brothers,

wh live in New Orleans, aged 23 and 21 respectively, Mr. Farrar was on his way to his
office in the Hibernia Bank building when he was told by a neighbor that 2 men stand-~
ing on a corner opposite were probably a pair who had broken into the Farrar home yes-
terday. “r,. Farrar started in pursuit of the men who drew a revolver and shot him
dead. “e fell on the street, The two men started to run and were pursued by a crowd
of citizens, Special details of police and mouted officers were rushed to the scene
and joined in the chase, Young Farrar was a graduate of the University of Virginia.
He was admitted to the New Orleans bar a decade or more ago and had practiced his
profession in this city continuously ever since, with the exception of a year or two
spent in Oklahoma, He waspopular in social affairs and had an extensive acquaintance
throughout Tennessee, Alabama and other sections of the south," JOURNAL, Atlanta,

GA, Nove l, 1911 (1/5)

"New Orleans, 11-3-A special session of the grand jury has been called for Saturday
to investigate the killing of Edgar H, Farrar, Jr., last Wednesday near his home by
Rene and Lucien Canton, two youths who had previously reobbed the Farrar residence,
The boys were ordered held for the grand jury when they pleaded not guilty at their
arraignment yesterday, The police believe that a general roundup of crooks will re-
pult from an investigation now under way. Rene Canton's wife, who is also his cousin,
was before the criminal court in connection with the disposition of a $300 ring, which
the police say her husband admits having stolen, Jt is said he is also wanted in Kansas
City. Alsobefore the court was Arthur Montamai, to whom the boys appealed to meet
them with a change of clothes after the killing, “ontamai is a cousin of theCantons
and the father of Rene's wife. Then there wasVincente Rudolph, the old cisternmaker,
in whose shack Rene Canton hid and where much swag was recovered, and Mrs, Frank
Adams and Joseph Owin, the curio and old gold and silver dealers, to whom the Cantons
say much of their sbolen property was sold, and who the police believe, are 'fences'
for many thieves. All were ordered held under heavy bonds,"

JOURNAL, Atlanta, Ga., Nove 3, 1911 (22/3.)

"New Orleans, ll-6-At a special session of the parish grand jury today, Rene Canton,

who shot and killed Edgar H. Farrar, Jr., Wednesday, and his brother, Lucien Can-
ton, were indicted for murder, ‘The brothers smiled when Dist, Atty. Adams said that
the case against them was complete. Because of the popularity of the deceased, there
is a general public demand for anzpearly trial of the Canton brothers who are con-
fessed burglars of the worst stripe." JOURNAL, 11-6-1911 {2-1,)


number along the roadside where he
had dropped it.

The answer to the ownership of the
car came almost in seconds.-

The hunted automobile was regis-
tered under the name of Charles Ra-
bito, No. 3203 General Taylor Street,
New Orleans.

Who was Rabito? None of the police
officers, all familiar with the strange,
dangerous twilight world of crime, had
come across the name before. Rabito
had no police record, as a clerk, hastily
thumbing through the files, quickly
reported to Chief Grosch. -

io officers were piling into
squad cars, trembling with eager-
ness to swoop down upon the house on
General Taylor Street.

Where would the trail of the license
number lead? To the killer? Or
would the officers be confronted with
still another puzzle?

They took no chances as they pound-
ed on Charles Rabito’s door. They
were tense, grim, ready to pounce at
the first faint danger sign. Something
stirred inside the house. The men’s
fists gripped guns bulging in their
pockets,

The door slowly swung open, and on
the threshold stood a child, a puzzled

‘staring questioningly at her,

little girl with a black fringe of hair
falling over her forehead.

As she saw all these strange men
their
tenseness still unrelaxed, a frightened .
look sprang into her innocent eyes.
She reeled around, pattered inside,
calling in a thin, frightened voice:
“Mama, Mama! .. .”

Captain Alfred J. Malone, who head-
ed the squad, stepped inside the house.
His men moved up a step or two, clus-
tering around the entrance.

Presently a door opened in the semi-
gloom of the interjor,and a small, dark
woman of about 30, hugging a baby
in her arms, advanced timidly.

“What do you want?” she asked
softly, a start of sudden fright in her
brown eyes.

Malone showed his badge. —

“Police,” he announced tersely. “Who
are you?”

“Why—why do you ask me?” the
woman’ stammered. I’m—I’m’ Mrs.
Charles Rabito. What’s—”

“Your husband home?”
gruffiy cut in.

“No,” she replied. “I expected him
for lunch but he never showed up.”

The officers exchanged quick, mean-
ingful glances. Of course, they didn’t
expect to find the driver of the bandit

Malone

Patrick Hodges: His
curiosity about a
mysterious object
thrown from a
speeding automobile

. set detectives on the
baffling trall of the

Rabito murder gun

Mrs. Charles Rabito,
shown with her chil-
dren: She couldn’t
understand why po-
lice sought her hus-
band after killers
escaped in his car

car sitting home and playing games
with his little children. Malone sig-
naled the officers with a barely per-
ceptible nod of his head.

The men brushed past the woman,
spreading into the other rooms of the
neat house.

A near-hysterical look flashed into
the woman’s face.

“Good Héavens, what’s this?” she
cried. “What’s happened? Tell me—
did anything happen to my husband?”

“Don’t get excited, Mrs. Rabito,”
Malone counseled curtly. “As yet we
don’t know anything for sure.”

Lannes was.the first to emerge after
the inspection of the other rooms, the
rest of the stern-visaged men trooping
after him.

“There’s nothing here,” he an-
nounced. Malone slumped in a chair.

“What does your husband do for
living?” he asked.

“He works for the Mize Groce:
Company as a bookkeeper.”

“On Claiborne Avenue? Drives
1932 Studebaker sedan? Dark-color<
crate, isn’t it?”

“y-yes,” the woman said, growir
more nervous with each passing se
ond,

Malone decided not to drop a hi
about the murder. :

“You’d better come with us, M
Rabito,” he informed her calmly. ‘“Y«
might be able to help us. Put on
coat and’ please make it snappy.”

Placing the house under the clo:
watchful surveillance of two men, M
lone and the rest of the officers d
parted, the stunned, silent wom:
among them.

Nothing was said as they rode. €
the radio of the cruise-car was di
ing, calling out addresses and dispa’
ing officers to the scenes of var
events. The men tensed when the
nouncer’s voice suddenly .- bec:
breathless. The words poured i
racy staccato from the loudspeaker

“Attention! Be on the lookout
dark Studebaker sedan, 1932, lic
140-253. Pick up and hold car, dr
and two occupants. Wanted for n
der of Charles Rabito in Bric
dale...”

N AGONIZED scream, burs
from the woman’s throat, drow
out the rest.

Charles Rabito—the victim! The
ficers were stumped, only partly
to understand what had precipit
the latest development. But °
stunning suddenness they realized

(Continued on Page 36)

Wed, CoS ke 9

tthe oy ha ay ved eechaiceres Sa

/ +/ ;

300 and Murder fo

“Rubber Gloves

Charles Rabito: What murdering ac-
quaintance knew he would carry
$2,300 when he left his office at noon?

By Henry Jordan
Special Investigator for
OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES

HE eyes of the dead man were
frozen in a glassy stare. The rivu-
lets of blood had ceased trickling
down to the yellow grass.
Never would he open his lips to tell
of that instant of horror when he had

stared into the muzzle of a gun roaring

death at him. For one bullet had
bored neatly through the middle of his
forehead, the other pierced his wildly
thumping heart.

Deputy Sheriff Rolling of Bridgedale,
Jefferson Parish, Louisiana, straight-
ened up. He turned to the pale, shak-
ing youth at his elbow.

“How did you know about this?”

The boy, who said his name was
William Andrews, had summoned the
official in a frantic telephone call a
few minutes before. He gasped out a
broken story.

“I was over on the railroad tracks—”
he pointed—“and a dark sedan. drove
off the highway onto the dirt road.
It went behind these bushes. Then I
heard two shots. A second later the

car raced out from the dirt road, turned

back into the highway and tore off in
the direction of New Orleans. I came
over here and—”

“How many people were in the car?”

“Two men.”

Rolling turned his gaze upon the
fresh, pink face of a sandy-haired
youngster beside Andrews.

“What did the two men look like,
Son—or did you see them?”

“I didn’t see the other one.”

“Which one did you see?”

“The man who shot the gun. He was
a big, fat man. He looked like he was
a wrestler. He had a gray hat on and
a gray coat. Another fella in a dark
suit stayed in the car.”

Pushing back his straw hat, Rolling
nodded musingly.

“How did the shooting happen?”

The sandy-haired boy wagged his
head eagerly.

“He pushed this man out of the car
and shot at him. When he fell to the
ground, the big man shot again.”

For a stunned moment, there was
silence over the dismal scene. Sudden-
ly Andrews, the first witness, called
out in a tone of despair:

“T’ve lost it!”

Frantically he was fumbling through
his pockets. ‘

“Lost what?”

“The license number!”

“What are you talking about?”

The voice of the Deputy was edged
with impatience.

Andrews continued to go through
his pockets.

“The license number of the car. I
put it down on a book of matches, and
now it’s gone.” :

The siren scream of a swiftly ap-

How Could These New Orleans

Detectives Follow the -Odys-

sey of a Murder Gun from a
Painted Lady to a Killer When
All Clews Led to the Victim?

«

thing ambulance tore the air. Rol-
shouted above it, “Why didn't
suy you had the license number?
t's happened to it?”.

must have lost it when I ran to
shone.”

un back and look for it.”

the youth scurried in the direction
1e highway some 200 feet away,
imbulance screeched to a stop on
runching dirt road. The door was
: open and a white-coated irftern
‘d to the ground.

ead,” he muttered a moment later.
body’ll go to the morgue.”

BEGIN their work, the officers had
ly the boy’s sketchy description of
dllers and the car. :

only a few minutes a telephone
n set the intricate mechanism of
New Orleans Police Department
ng into action. Deputy Sheriff

ief of Detectives John J. Grosch:
never had failed to solve a
irder—but what could he do
th this case in which the clews
‘nt in the’ wrong direction?

ing had hardly finished his brief
wt when the short-wave radio be-
to sputter: te,
Salling all cars! Calling all cars!”
essages were flashed to the pre-
t stations throughout the city. Of-
‘s of the Homicide Squad raced
n the stairs of Headquarters Build-
tumbled into their cars and sped
sirens wailing, to occupy strategic

Ss.
special detail, composed of Captain
ak J. Lannes, Detective William
sch, and Officers George Heintz and
est Ross, hurtled through the dense
rnoon traffic to near-by Bridgedale,
scene of the crime.
atrol officers who a moment before
been rolling along at a leisurely
2 in their cruisers suddenly tensed
he official radio blared:

Calling all cars!

“Calling all cars!

Look out for dark sedan ... . murder
committed in Bridgedale . . . look out
for dark sedan with two men... use

care, occupants dangerous .. .”

In the center of this sudden whirl-
pool of activity was dapper young
Chief of Detectives John J.. Grosch,
one of the shrewdest and most efficient
criminologists in the country. His rec-
ord is unique. That pale, Wintry day
of the murder in Bridgedale—January
5, 1933—there hadn’t been a murder
in the criminal records of New Orleans
during his service that he had not
solved.

The Chief’s face was glum that after-
noon, however. Would he be able to
crack this murder like the innumer-
able previous ones?

The hunt was on. But this was a

Location of scenes important in the investigation of the bookkeeper’s

murder is shown in-this map of New Orleans and contiguous territory

hunt for two unknown killers who by
this time, 1 p. m., 25 minutes after the
fatal gun had blazed death, had been
swallowed by the human maelstrom of
the restless metropolis, maybe never
to be found again. Were they bandits,
hoodlums, revenge-seekers—what?

Tantalizing, too, was the question of
the victim’s identity. The man who
had been executed daringly in the
fields on the outskirts of the city, al-
most in view of the roaring Airline
Highway, was now only a number on
a morgue slab. His pockets, turned in-
side out, hadn’t yielded a single clew
to his identity. The well-tailored
though somewhat worn clothes did not
bear a label.

A search of the murder scene, Cap-
tain Lannes reported by telephone,
failed dismally to uncover a trace of
the two fatal bullets.

WHat was the motive for this
shooting? Was it a kidnap-murder?
Or the last bloody chapter of a gang
feud? Perhaps an act of personal re-
venge? Or was it just another bootleg
fracas? It was the era of flamboyant
speakeasies, bathtub - gin, gangster
glorification, rum-runner wars.

Grosch and his aids, minds or
discussed all possibilities in clipped,
quick words. But what good did it
do? One theory was of as little use
as another. There was absolutely noth-
ing to go on.

As the precious minutes Ae by, the
radios kept crackling, “ cars, all
cars, two men in a gataway car...
look out, men are armed ve

Suddenly there was a few seconds’
throbbing silence. Patrolmen in cruis-
ing cars weaving their ways watchfully
through jammed streets, desk officers
in precinct stations, earphones clamped
to their heads, momentarily held their
breaths.

Chief John J. Grosch proved that
the rubber - gloved gunman’s
fatal bullet would be found
straight down from this spot
marked by the cloth on a stick

Then the words broke sputtering
over. the ether, the announcer’s voice
vibrating with the stupendous impor-
tance of the message:

“Watch out for dark sedan, Louisiana
license 140-253, sought in connection
with Bridgedale murder .. .” :

Jubilant officers at Headquarters al-
ready were checking with the Motor
Vehicle Department. The excited lad

from Bridgedale had found the book
of matches with the scribbled tag


In their closir
state attorneys
tence. It mad
the murder sho
men were equa
the law.

In his arguim:
dleton said that
circumstances;
prived of an e
his every attem
entered school
the defense cot
he was 14 years
grade.

“If Dallao’s ©
he didn’t fire
Middleton decl:

The defense
two persons se’
and a murder i
the plot, both p:

Makes

“ UT.” he a
gether an
known to the o
equally guilty «
In his charge
said that consp
for felonies whi:
plot is being c
The jury lef
In 50 minutes

“Guilty as cl
nounced and t!
loomed sudden
room.

Less than tw:
a jury in the sa

This time it
torneys two da:
men and true.”
nesses was sin
that presented

But suddenl:
“Mrs. George |
tators gasped.
forward. The s:
witness!

The wife of C:
testified in a cz
said that Capac
to the Dallao
probably to pl
murder, she sai:
bring her husb:

The defense

“Why are yo
manded Defens
“Have you bee

“No,” Mrs. J

it to try and sa

At 10 p. m. t
mony began.
that Capaci’s |:
case on the def
gun because oj

Capaci’s mo
“Johnny split
was two years
ever since.”
corroborated h:
leans school te
Capaci as a bo
been troubled

Still pinning
finger the defi
stand.

Holding out
asked the balli
how a man w
used in the kill

As O'Neil p
the trigger, (
could not hav«
index finger, si

68

arguments Wednesday,
sked for the death sen-
no difference who fired
they pointed out. Both
y guilty in the eyes of

ts for the defense, Mid-
is client was a victim of
man who had been de-
vcation and thwarted in
t to find a job. Dallao
hen he was 9 years old,
isel said, and left when
id and only in the third

nfession was true then
1e murder shots,” Mr.
ed.

ttorney admitted that if
out to commit a felony
the natural outcome of
sons are guilty.

egal Distinction

ued, “if they go out to-
ye commits a crime un-

ver, then both cannot be
the crime.”

\ the jury, Judge Rivarde

ators are equally guilty

. occur while the original
ried out.

to decide Dallao’s fate.

‘ey returned.

rged!” the foreman an-
shadow of the gallows
over the little court-

weeks later Capaci faced
e court.

ok defense and state at-
to choose “twelve good
Testimony of state wit-
lar in many respects to
t the Dallao trial.

a court attache called
illao!” Courtroom spec-
defense attorneys leaned
te had sprung a surprise

aci’s companion in crime
m and clear voice. She
had made frequent visits
‘ome before the killing,
n the crime. After the
. he came to the house to
nd’s share of the money.
vught to trip her up.
testifying like this?” de-
Attorney G. Wray Gill.
1 offered money for it?”
allao replied, “I’m doing
ve my husband’s life.”
e taking of defense testi-

!t soon became apparent

wyers would hinge their
ndant’s inability to use a
a defective index finger.
ver told the jury that
is index finger when he
id and it has been stiff
rothers of the accused
‘testimony. A New Or-
her said she had known
and that he had always
‘ith a “bad finger.”

heir hopes on the injured
ise called O’Neil to the

an automatic Mr. Gill
ic expert to demonstrate
vuld have fired the gun
‘ssed his index finger to
11 declared that Capaci
fired the shots with his
ce it was stiff and that if

he had used another finger, the stiff index
finger would have interfered with the
weapon’s ejector.

This angle of the case completed, the
defense next introduced 12 character wit-
nesses in an attempt to show that Capaci
could not even have contemplated the
crime since he loved Rabito as a brother.

In his summation District Attorney
Ileury once again asked for the death
penalty. He said that conspirators in a
felony are equally guilty of a crime which
is the natural result of that felony.

The jury filed out. In 50 minutes
they returned with the death verdict.
And once again the gallows loomed in
Gretna courthouse. .

After Capaci’s trial, lawyers for the
condemned men started their fight to
save them from the rope. It was a fight
which lasted more than a year and which
led from the lower courts to the supreme
court, from the supreme court to the
pardon board, from the pardon board to
the governor of the state. [Everywhere a
deaf ear was turned to their pleas.

Finally Friday, May 18, was set as the
date for their hanging, and the two men
were transferred from Parish prison to
Gretna jail to await their doom.

Fatal Day Arrives

NEVITABLY the fatal day arrived.

It was a day of half sunshine, half
rain. Since it was the first time a white
man had been hanged in Jefferson parish,
excitement was at fever heat in the little
town of Gretna. The double execution
was scheduled to begin at noon. Long
before the appointed hour a crowd began
gathering in the courtyard of the jail.
From the window in the death cell, Dallao
and Capaci watched them.

Breakfast was brought in. Dallao re-
fused but Capaci ate heartily of grape-
fruit, fried eggs and coffee. Both men
were offered whisky. Again Dallao re-
fused, Capaci emptied a tumbler-full.

As Capaci ate and drank Henry Meyer.
the hangman, sat in the sheriff's office
below, completing his preparations. Jef-
ferson parish had no gallows and this one
had been borrowed for the occasion. It
had done service during the days of the
old Parish prison. Gretna authorities
had reared it at the back of the jail and
draped some tarpaulin around it so the
hangings would be more or less private.

In the condemned cell the clock moved
relentlessly towards the noon hour.

At 10 a. m. the death warrant was read.

Dallao sat on the edge of his cot. Capaci
stood with his hands on the bars.

As the jail officials turned to leave
Capaci unpinned a gold crucifix from his
shirt and gave it to Sheriff Frank Clancy.

Like a drowning man grasping at a
straw, Dallao suddenly blurted out de-
tails of a long-past bank robbery in which
he had participated. No clemency was
forthgoming.

“I’m dying a martyr,” Capaci told re-
porters. “I am absolutely innocent of the
crime. My last hours are spent secure in
this knowledge.”

By this time 100 persons had assem-
bled in the courtyard of the jail. They
discussed the execution, made bets among
: glial as to which man would break
irst.

Upstairs in the jail, four priests reached
the death cell. Final prayers were started.
Capaci knelt by his cot. Dallao knelt at
the front of the cell holding on to the bars.

Jail officials walked in.

“It’s time, George,” Sheriff Clancy said.
pausing in front of Dallao.

“O. K. Sheriff.”

Dallao pulled a small ivory elephant
from his pocket and handed it to Deputy
Sheriff Angelo Maggiore.

“My kid gave this to me,” he said. “I
don’t need it any more.”

Then without flinching he climbed the
steps leading to the gallows.

As he passed Capaci’s cell, he stopped
and kissed him through the bars. And
the enmity which had existed between
the one-time friends was over.

“Keep your chin up, George,” Capaci
said. “Take it like a man.”

Dallao mounted the gallows. The
hangman started to tie his ankles.

“Wait a minute,” Dallao said. ‘Take
off my shoes.”

The shoes were removed. A priest
chanted the Litany of the Dead. Dallao’s
lips whispered a response. The black
hood was lowered. It was 12:03 p. m.

“Good-bye,” came in faintly muffled
tones and he dropped through the trap.

It was 12:20 p. m. when the death
march started for Capaci. He too walked
with ‘head up and a look of courage in
his eyes. He too went to his death mur-
muring prayers for his friends.

Who actually fired the fatal shots
remained a mystery. Just before the
hanging Capaci accused a bandit who had
previously died during a gun battle in
Shreveport. Officials place no credence
in this last-minute tale. They were satis-
fied that justice had been done.

Hedman
the dis
brought
tion am¢
the dan:
“She |
men, tw
ney said
to a girl
Ruth af:
sedan w
in it.”
“So it
Young
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soldiers
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The :
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attenda
up. I<
night

YS

was a |
a soldic
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a blon«
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Every
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green
we sca
obtain
We ta
faced.
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Near
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had b:
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the bi
“y


Sh Re eee Oe eS eee te,

BUSH, James, and WASHINGTON, soneehs blacks, olen precuted Louisiana State Prison (caddo)
on June 21, 1957.’ me scaee

PLT ST TN, me, : 4
Be ah a aes a

{
4
\
q
’

#
ed

‘Two Men Electr

“AT ANGOLA | SUREVEPOR 7: TIMES, £0.

62-142 -
peuted

For 54 Slaying Here

| Two Shreveport Negroes,

who once bragged about kill-

ing City Hall Custodian Charles F. Brvant on a’ wintery
“night here in 1954, early lodaw died in the electric chair

_.,9/for their crime. !
ti B The double Bxectilion=a|

| Louisiana’s first in-five vears,
‘closed police ‘files on a case

which started out as a back
‘Street robbery and ended as:
‘murder in the midnight sha-.

‘dows of a Shreveport ceme-
itery.

i And in the end, the crime was-

‘costly only in human lives, for
‘three men died for the paltry $9
‘the killers took from the dying

-; Bryant's wallet.

James Bush, 26, and Joseph

_, Washington, 34, were electrocuted

/Shortly after midnight at Angola,

| | Police said they were arrested only

‘after they were heard boasting
about the killing.

i Their last hours were spent quict-
‘ly in the punishment cell block
jnext door to the death house. For

{their noon meal, they asked for |
ftand received fried chicken. Last:

night, they wanted only a quart of
milk. ;

| After a visit by the prison chap-

‘lain, Bush and Washington were!

‘read the death ‘warrant, as required
i by Jaw, at 10 p.m. by Warden Mau-
i rice Sigler.

Then they sat aiienity on their |
‘bunks waiting for midnight and the.
: , Suards to waik them to the low:

white building with the green door
' where they paid the cost of murder.

Bush was the first to go. He!

i walked calmly into the death cham-
her and sat quietly as he was be-
‘ing strapped into the chair. Asked
if he had anything to say, Bush

...j answered in a low voice, “No,
'Sir.””
The first of two 2.300-valt shocks.

; Was administered at 12:07, and the
| Second at 12:11. The younger of
ithe two slavers was pronounced
idead at 12:14, just: seven minutes

after the first charge.

ers to himself as he walked into

{the death chamber, shook his head.
slowly from side to side when asked |

if he wanted ta cov anethine

Washington, breathing quict pray- |

‘upward and broke the seat strap.
- Washington was pronounced dead
at 12:28, two minutes after a see-
ond charge.

Sime 15 persons, mostly
prison personnel, watched as Bush
and Washington died for the crime
‘thev had committed more than two
' years ago.

Thev were convicted of murder-
ing Bryant on June 14, 1955, and
subsequent appeals failed to upset
” the death sentenee handed down
in Caddo district court.

The two signed confessions that
they intended to rob the 67-vear-old
city hall custodian, and in doing
so. killed him with his own gun.

Brvant usually parked his car,

an old 1930 Model A Ford: which]

was almost as well-knawn as* he
was, near the Oakland Cemetery in
.the 500 block of Baker Street.

As he returned to his car on the
night of Feb. 12 to go home, 740
Prospect,
driver, and. Bush, a day laborer,
‘assaulted him. ;

The custodian defended himself
with a pistol, and in the seuffle
_with Washington, was shot to death.
‘Both were questioned shortly after
the murder, but were released
when nothing could be found
against them.

' ‘In the leng months which fol-
‘lowed, Shreveport detectives
worked around the clock, but leads
were, seemingly non-existent.

As’ summer came, apparently
conlident he would not be found
out, Bush began bragging to friends
‘about the slaving. He was picked
up hy police, and soon implicated
Washington.

After a jury, deliberating Jess
than an hour, decreed they were to
die in the chair for their crime,
Bush and Washington appealed to
the state Supreme Court, but the
verdict was upheld in March, 1956.
/One electrocution date was post
poned pending the appeal. :

TRe two killers were moved from.
tha Sandan Daclok Tall bao Ras

into his body at (949. she jerked |/enktaes

Washington, a triitkiitin co

2th Memepis us Ae

y “> 4
EE Wine St BR ty
Pipi


38

Catholic Church and buried two days later “un-
der a drooping camphor tree” along the edge of
Graceland Cemetery in Lake Charles. Fr. Rich-
ard used to visit her grave. He was not aware of
any family members who ever came to visit the

grave.

Finnon Burks’s date with Grady Jarratt came
not quite four months later. With Toni Jo’s no-
tarized statement on his behalf, Burks had applied
to the Louisiana Pardon Board for a commuta-
tion of his sentence to life imprisonment. In those
days, and until the new Louisiana Constitution
of 1974 took effect, the three members of the
Pardon Board were the sentencing judge, the At-
torney General and the Lieutenant Governor.
Judge Pickrel voted for a commutation, but Burks
lost his petition when the Attorney General and
Lieutenant Governor both voted no.

The last few weeks before Burks was ex-
ecuted, he had turned to God. His religious ad-
visor, Rev. Raymond McClung, baptized him the
morning of his execution. “He made his peace
with God,” Rev. McClung said later, “and I can’t
help but feel that he really meant it.”

Burks wrote four letters—one to his mother
and one each to his two sisters and a brother. He
told his mother he was better off dead and that
perhaps he would see his father in a short while.
Burks apologized to the jailer, Gibbs Duhon.
“I’ve given you lots of trouble, but I know you’re
as good a friend as I have.”

Toni Jo had been considered a model pris-
oner. Finnon Burks was not. He had tried to
escape three times. Once he had used hacksaw
blades to saw through two bars on his cell. An-
other time he removed the casing from around a
window in the corridor outside his cell. The third
time he seized a gun and locked a jailer in the
cell. The jailer told him the jailhouse was sur-
rounded by officers who would kill him if he tried
to leave, and Burks gave up.

Many people thought Burks was weak, that
he would collapse and “cry like a baby,” the
newspaper account of the execution read. But it
reported that he died calmly. He had joked with
officers up to the last minute and then walked
smiling and calm to the electric chair.

The Angolite—-May/June 1995

The last photo taken of Finnon Burks shows
a smiling, handsome young man in a new navy
suit and dark hat. Rev. McClung is adjusting his
tie. Burks looks for all the world like a soldier
being welcomed back from duty overseas. Fif-
teen minutes later he was dead.

His last words were directed to Rev.
McClung: “The Lord Jesus Christ is my Sav-
ior,” he whispered with a half smile on his face
that was broken only by an intermittent twitch-
ing of his mouth. “I am ready to go.”

His spirit might have been willing, but the
body wasn’t so sure. After one cycle of electric-
ity, Burks’s heart was still beating. After a sec-
ond jolt, his heart continued beating for a few
minutes longer. The execution record says that
a jolt of electricity was applied at 12:13 p.m. on
March 23, 1943, and Finnon Burks was pro-
nounced dead at 12:19 p.m. He was never as
popular as Toni Jo Henry, never as charismatic,
and while Toni Jo received hundreds of letters,
on the day before Finnon Burks died he got ex-
actly two—one from his sister and one from
someone in Tulsa. But at the end, as the Death
Row convicts say, “He went out like a man.”
Cope Routh, writing in the American Press that
day, called it “the second installment on the debt
due the state” for the Valentine’s Day murder of
Joseph Calloway, “in a bleak and deserted rice
field near Lake Charles.”

And what of Claude “Cowboy” Henry, whose
imprisonment was the start of the chain of acts
that would result in Calloway’s death? Texas
prison records show that despite the 50-year sen-
tence, Cowboy was released on parole—techni-
cally called a “reprieve” in Texas at that time—on
May 31, 1944. So he did heed the first part of
Toni Jo’s last advice—the part about getting out
of that zoot suit and walking out the prison door
like a man. On the second part, the part about
putting his faith in God and living an upright and
law-abiding life, he would unfortunately fall far
short.

Cowboy’s reprieve was revoked on July 13,
but he was given another on April 18, 1945.
Prison authorities reported that Cowboy had an
incurable heart ailment, and that he might die at
any time. They were right about dying at any time,


The Angolite—May/June 1995

The electric chair had been brought down
from Angola, the state penitentiary, Saturday
morning. Warden D.D. Bazer was present, along
with at least one convict trusty, the prison elec-
trician, and the executioner. In news accounts the
executioner is unnamed but convicts and legal of-
ficials all knew his name was Grady Jarratt.
Jarratt did all electrocutions in Louisiana from
1941 to 1961, a total of 66 men and one woman.

This is how the American Press describes his
final preparations:

“Quickly she came down the 22 steps
to the first floor and marched straight to
the chair that was wedged along with the
master switch and other equipment in the
eight-foot-wide first floor corridor.

“She had a smile on her face and she
kept it there till the end.

“The executioner quickly set about the
Job of fastening the electrodes about her
body. The brine soaked cap was placed
on her head.

“‘Goodbye Father,’ she said, looking
up at Father Richard. ‘You'll be here
won't you?’

“Yes, I'll be right here,’ the priest an-
swered.

“A few seconds later, she looked at
him again and smiled.

“Father Richard smiled back and said:
‘Keep smiling.’

“She halfway joked with the execu-
tioner as he fastened buckles that
clamped her arms and legs tight to the
big oaken chair. Finally he had com-
pleted the job.

““‘Do you have anything to say?’
Deputy Sheriff Henry Reid asked her.

“‘No I haven't,’ she answered in a low
steady voice, still smiling.

“At that moment it looked like her calm
composure might break. Her eyes began
to water. But she looked at Father Rich-
ard and smiled.”

“Goodbye, Toni Jo,” the executioner said, as
he applied the death charge, and she murmured
an inaudible acknowledgment.

Ret A Lj .

-
. &.
. .

The execution record indicates that the jolt
of electricity was applied at exactly 12:12:30 p.m.
At 12:15 p.m. the same Coroner who had exam-
ined Calloway’s body, E.L. Clement, pronounced
Toni Jo dead. The record lists seven official wit-
nesses, one of whom, Clyde Manard, signed the
record twice; two doctors; Grady Jarratt and Rev.
Wayne Richard. Fr. Richard has always remem-
bered the remark Jarratt directed at him, stand-
ing by the electric chair with Toni Jo sitting dead
in it: “Well, Father, we did a good job.” Fr. Ri-
chard could not even speak in reply.

“Toni Jo Pays Supreme Penalty,” the head-
line of the American Press read that day. Fifty-
two years later, Fr. Richard remembers the smell
of burning flesh. When I asked him if the ex-
ecution left him feeling depressed, he replied,
“Absolutely. Even today I can still see her at the
moment she was electrocuted. I could see the
expression on her face.”

When the execution was over, Fr. Richard
drove from Lake Charles to Patterson, Louisiana,
to visit his parents—yjust to get away for awhile,
he says. Toni Jo was given the last rites of the

The Angolite-May/June 1995

but only indirectly about the heart part as the
cause of death.

Cowboy was shot to death in Dallas on July
15, 1945. Fr. Richard recalls hearing reports that
Cowboy was trying to pull an armed robbery.
Dallas police reports and local news reports tell
a different story.

The Times-Herald reported the next day that
Cowboy had died “in the typical gangster fash-
ion that he knew so well.” Cowboy, drunk and
swearing, had approached S.W. Farrow as he sat
inside a parked car with his wife and another man
at 3:30 Sunday morning. Farrow knew Cowboy.
When he got out to talk, Cowboy knocked him
down several times, then hailed a cab and left
the scene. A couple of blocks away, Cowboy
ordered the cab driver to turn around and take
him back. “I’m not satisfied yet,” he told the
driver.

When Cowboy got out of the cab, Farrow
opened fire. Three of the five shots he fired hit
Cowboy, the fatal wound in the lung beneath his
heart. Cowboy lay in the street for an hour be-
fore an ambulance arrived, and he died later in
surgery at Parkland Hospital.

Dallas authorities were probably glad to be
rid of Cowboy. He had been arrested dozens of
times, in Illinois, California and Texas, and was
known to have beaten and robbed numerous men.
While out of prison on his last reprieve, suppos-
edly with the incurable heart ailment, he had
eluded Dallas police in a high speed pursuit, and
he was reportedly drinking continuously and more
pugnacious than ever. His own death by violence
surprised no one. Prison authorities said he had
never gotten over Toni Jo’s death.

I asked Fr. Richard what would have hap-
pened to Toni Jo Henry if she had been tried to-
day, for the same crime committed the same way.
Would she still get the death penalty? “Abso-
lutely not,” Fr. Richard says. “Today she would
never have gotten the death penalty.”

Fr. Richard believes that the trial would have
been moved to another jurisdiction, less influ-
enced by local publicity, and that more time

39

would have elapsed before the trial. She would
have been provided more experienced counsel.
Most important, in the current scheme of guilt
phase and penalty phase, if she had been con-
victed of first-degree murder and gone to the pen-
alty phase, she would have been able to testify
herself and have experts and family members tes-
tify about her early family life and her troubled
adolescent life. He believes that a modern-day
jury would be far more sympathetic to Toni Jo,
the criminal, rather than focusing exclusively on
the crime against Joseph P. Calloway, the vic-
tim. Elements that seemed to make little differ-
ence in 1940—the several confessions she made,
and her leading police to the undiscovered body—
might be viewed as more significant evidence of
remorse today.

But Toni Jo did not commit her crime in 1995
America, with its sophisticated defenses and
heightened interest in family history and other
mitigating evidence. She committed her crime
in an era when blame was much more personal.
Her crime was an ugly felony murder, highly pub-
licized, that turned an entire town against her.

Toni Jo never said convincingly that she was
sorry for what she had done. She never begged,
and she never cried for forgiveness. Toni Jo’s in-
terviews strongly suggest that she believed what
had happened was her own fault.

She may have seen her own death as atone-
ment for her impulsive, desperate crime. If Toni
Jo had not been so impatient, if she had waited
for her man rather than concocting her impetu-
ous robbery scheme, all of them—Toni Jo, Cow-
boy, Finnon Burks and the unfortunate Joseph
Calloway—would have lived more obscure but
surely longer lives.

Toni Jo was not the kind to wait it out. She
had always gone at life head-on. Determined to
free at any cost the man she loved, she set in
motion the events that make up one of the en-
during crime stories of southwest Louisiana. In
the end, it was her fate that seized all of them in
its grasp: in Toni Jo Henry’s closest circle, there
were no survivors.

é

© @luck on the meraiag of the 10t6b ao ein!

beerd the report of a pistol, which came from the burcs
of Wilson and Burns, Both Of WOM Ware we); known ty
Witnesses, and in.mediately aterwarde Wiinen pan Out of
tre beusee aud throush the gate to the pavement: a: rad
etikt for @ few seconds, louking back at the hogee with ry
obec on bietace; Burns themcame out of the nonse. hae.
lop Bold of decease with Bis lest nad@ eran, Ries ness

from behind, and ho l4tug Ceceaacd @ Tig@t arn be the
cibew. aud after passiax (hrowsh the sate, threw the Je

Coated Gown ca some eurhstore® iying apon tha alde.
Waik, ang then Wijson ant Kurns started off decomead

Wh. wastieeding trom the mouth fose and ran n> tte
at ret ‘or about fifty feet, and CohIMengadt ‘ptag-
Berayg., antl wae then taken @are ef by Ja: ing agit
actee other lends. Gillam re dled om the cee ot Lee

cemder Nig the woence* received al cl ge tts
ec Minement caprespedt ofirin belief that his wow sae yore
tTacrialand that he maet die, Om Re ame der of te ogee!

Wasals found @ Diack epet indication: thet Me had ca-

cAived allow from arivueg ech Gr e€her lias inetri
ment. Woiisen and urne were alerwars arresced ta the
Btate of Venrsvivaiia aud brogtght tu st. Lowe,

Judge Lay closes hia decieiun with the following
In rejurence to the dying dcecisratwas of the mur-
dt red nan:

It is diMcult to imagine @ atronger eave than tania for
the acmiaston of crying decla' acdens. Up oy the while
Cam. Wa think the defendant nas no reacos ‘te ¢ mp ain
Gt the rustugef the Court belew. He was iicfeaied by
able rcansel; received a faly and Impartial trial, am! eb-
lat. J the foul penedt vf every pitacsoly of jaw which
could be invelbed in hie bebhall We se aot, tacrefure,
feel at liberty tu interfere w th the verdict.

TME PRISONER,

4. Joseph Burns was bern in Limerick, {reland: dees
hot know hisexact age: caine with his parents to
‘hie country about twelve or thirteen years ago,
landing at Now Orleans; his father died a year af-
terwards, Wien the Lalance of tho tamily came to
this city. Worked asa tobacco atemmer, aisu as a
bagpaxe- wagon driver; shortly before his arrest, as a
skebusbeatapan. Can neither read or write.


TTI APPEARANCE.

{ Barus is avout five-icet seven inches in height, of a
rong muscular tid, inclined to stoup; bie counte-
Lance Dot picasiby--lovking like one whose passious,
Laturally Lad, bad been allowed to ran riot.

B18 CONDUCT

For some dare past has Leen very morose,.and par-
ticusariy bitter to all those who had anything to do
mi histrial. Hie spirtual adviser, Fatber 0 Krien,
has Leen mveh with him of late, aud to him thy pris-
vuler Was humble and pliabie.

TUR ARRANUBM RENTS

Ofthe County Marshal and his acaustants wore most
Complete. About a hundred persons, embracing the
repreventatives of the press, county oGcers, police-
Men, ete., were ip attendance.

THK BAKECUTION.

At sixteen minutes to two o'clock, the prisozer
was bruuxht from bis spending the Jast momente
therein with the hoy father, who, as i« naual in such
euser, accompauied him to the scaffold. Whea be
mace his appearance, there was a visible tremor ip
Lin frame, though bis walk was quite aleady and
frm. .

MIS REMARKS.

He Nad repeated: told the reporters that what be
has! to aay, be wonid deliver from tho scaffuld; and
when hoe aseonded, alter the County Marrhal-had
reed the death warrant, ho wes aaked If he had any
“thivg to say. In a clear but somewhat tremulous
voice, he eaid:

GENTLEMEN: <All J baveto to!l you is; you are
hanging me, thnvcent of the crime of murder.

Bie war not loft to suspense. At ANcen minutes
to 2 o'clock he wasplaced upon the trap, the fatal
cord adjusted, the tap fell, and Joseph Burne was
hat ging between earth and heaven.

Alter hanging until he was pronoanéed dead, he
was taken down and placed ina neat oofla, upon
which was a cross,the coffin placed in a hearse,
‘which wae taken } oreasion of by his mother.


RiTpy fh "1 e+
DU L LutN y Allen,

black,

hanged Por

len, LA,, June 18, 1897...

‘June 18.~Alleo Butler,
to-day at Port Allen for
wife, Iisa Butler. . The

of a beavy dreakfast

resigned to bis fate.

in ‘constant attendance 08
ae confident of salvation. At

7 was escorted to the gallows
the sheriff. and minis

. with @ bokt step, Sherif

thin ¢ rent to ‘work to ed-
eed cap, end five minutes after
en the gibbdet, the trap was
t was launched into eternity,
‘o negroes bad congregated
sigsure to whness the execs:

bie Butler euffered. the
mat the law wae committed
plantation, ia thie paried,
leg wae et targe for gome
.  aventwally captured in the
Pociiciane and trought back to
pane bie trial at oe mares
His case was Mbp and
a peggy eee An
Lise, engaged iu ap alterca-
to kill her aaa Gne- ran
vet by Butler. Butler,
w “ while,. caught up with
omy ‘bear oi iow wi th aD ax oe
; bead, the le@ the
ee end FoR yg -
her ep r
‘gam tate @ one teh 6
way to eliciana,
eect: eapte:

» s

= >» ft . : revurne
a Ser os

Kixrecriog OF Joaxent UUKR4B.--The insjaety of
tho law was yooterdsy vindicated in the exseution
Of Joscph Burns as ag accessory to the murder of
Policeman Jolin (. Gilmore, on the lh day of De-

ceinber, lu). :

Ip order to a full understanding of the cireum.
stanees, It will be neceseary tO ZO back to the tian of
the murder, avd also give @ abort history of theec-
ecution spd trial of hie contederate, William Wuiseu,
who wasexecuted om the 27'h of June, 1843 A ene
eravce was grauied in the case of Burne, who wes
first tried, and bya jury feond guilty of murder iu tha
Bret deprey. Apsppes) was grauted in bis case to
the Hupreme Court, and atthe Mareb term, Juige
W.V.N. Bay afirmed the verdict of the Court be-
low, all the Judges covcurriug. The fulluwing re
sume by bis Honor ts, perhape ae eaccinet an accuant
ae could be given of Burne’ participation in the
crime:

In December, 1801. and about iweo'ciect at sight. a
burglary was cemmilted spun the premises ef a mar 4

thet aecther mas accompanied Wilsen. ae he distiactiy

. if ree

teen and Burs to arrestthem. they
living tovcther with two éisrepatable womes on Chas:

found all the chambers luadod, and With unex pioded cape
cn then. Twe otter witnesses testified that ateut 7


ee Sa i ek oe ik a ee em OR ts ae are ee Ce eae Ae MR OM) MM Ca RS Me a i
a sisi‘COsSCSCSCSC*‘*dS
hd :

|
\ BYRNE, Edward, Jr., white, elec. La. SP (Bossier) 6/1/1988

THE ANGOLITE

THE PRISON NEWS MAGAZINE
(504) 655-4411, Ext. 2028

| Roger Thomas 27>
SUPERVISOR \Se

g-e- FF

LOUISIANA STATE PRISON - ANGOLA, LA 70712

‘Gene ; kK n) Wc khewy\


Bill B yrd — executed at Arcadia, Lousiana, on
April “0, [9 oh od |

This 1s the third new one to turn 4p tr housiane 1 the early

/9Abs. There must have been a gap th the death Warrant hile tor
/92/- 1723.

ive | make fh a istake of savinga
osing a few dolla ‘of food They forget
> of 51) to 60 degree Oil food just as sure-

dégrees in mid 4

é nd eggs—in a well
j ' $ seaon of the year.

:

IGE INDUSTRIES

1”

Seeee:
ad; with), assault. Entered plea
i ia pen court and wag: met

Rob _ charged with assault,
vee pie ‘of guilty in open. court.
fig) fine d $15.00 and costae. )) 0%
) ‘Gouisiana Vs. Jesse Allison.’
oh pa of: guilty in open courf
“4 0) Mnaking illicit liquor. Was
00; jana. costs or in ‘default
b and cost to bé,/incar: |
S parish jail for a period
and - worked on: public.

Sa

a:

sa

He

( flags: Ve. Henry “Pari:
vith “carrying concealec
inssault. . Entered plea ‘of:
d i;counts, and wag, finéd
an “os st in first charge and

gosts, and 30 days in par:

it

ae A:

=P

; went to Gibs.

of a Vs. Toland ‘Ward, 4

wah ifore the . time of his execution, 8

1 never saw Ed Smith
any more except once there in the de-
pot ‘at Gibs. I don’t know how or

| when he left Gibs. I hadn’t saw Lon-

nie Jackson in about three weeks. 5
left Gibs on the freight: train in the

car with Mr, Murrell just. about day |.
| light. on the Second day: of: September.

1921, and after we had: ‘got: down the
road a piece, I got the gun and shot
him on the side of his head. He did-
n’t know I was shooting him. 1
I thought he. had some money and I
wanted it.-: I got $27.00 or $28.00.,
Right after I shot him I ‘got off the
train and took the single barrel shot
gun that I had kiled him with and)
some clothes: with me. I come and
caught a train on the L. & N. W. and
@ man took’ the gun and clothes and
throwed them down. I got back to
Homer that. night about. midnight.

When I made up my mind to kill)
Mr. Murrell, Ed Smith .or Lonnie

‘Jackson neither one was not on the

train and they didn’t know nothing
about it. I am guilty of the crime
by myself, ° “The reason I said they
was in it-was because Mr. Coleman
and Mr. Currie aSked me if they was-
n't in it and I says yes, because I
thought it: would make it lighter on
me and I knew Ed Smith. and Lonnie
Jackson was ‘charged with it and’ the}

people thought they done: it and they i

thought I was Lonnie Jackson.”
: (Signed) BILL BYRD.

“Sworn to y and subscribed before mec
on'this April: 21st, 1922, at 12:05 p. m.
BERTRAM | F¥. BARNETTE,
Notary Public.

~ Rey. Kilcrease, Byrd’s spiritual ad-
viser conducted a song service a. few
moments prior to the time set for the
execution. Pastor’ J. C. Cox, of thx
Arcadia Baptist church offered prayer
for the condemned man, after which
the latter appeared at the window

and made a brief statement in which

he again’ exonerated Jackson and EG!
Smith,; and stated that he wished
every one present would feel as safy
as he did. when they faced their last
moment on. ‘earth.

In the presence of. the legal num-

|.ber of witnesses Sheriff Currie sprang

the trap «.which sent Byrd® int
eternity.. He immediately left the jai)
and avoided conversation, with any of
-the crowd .which had, been attracted
to. the vicinity. of the jail through mor
bid curiosity:

Byrd Repent’ Di uring ‘Last Few

“ Of His Life

Byrd hag: been confined in the Cad.
do Par{sh* Jail at Shreveport. since
his conviction, last December 8th. He
was brought. back to _Arcadia recent-
ly and since: that, time has been mak:
ing. preparations, for: his execution. |
He_ talks quite: freely about the mat:
‘ter; and says he.is ready to die, and
that he holds:no ill will to the officers
nor the jury. which found him guilty.
*? Since his, return to the Arcadia jal‘
‘he. has been: “vigited frequently by’ hisy
spiritual’ adviser,’ Rev. Kilcrease,: and
‘other colored: -preachers, ‘who. have
‘prayed: with him, and™told him. the
‘| necessity of; telling the facts. of -the
“murder before taking the plunge , in
to: ‘eternity. Sad
* Today- at:10 30 a. m. Rev. Kilcreasc
‘held servicés in the jail, offering: spec-
{fal prayer- for.:the condemned’ zany
‘who made a’request to be baptized

Day 8

.

1/1922,

ee su bY rey Ae wha

and Lonnie Jackson's sentences com
muted to life imprisonment. ‘Had thi:
been, done, it now appears that Jack-
son and Smith would both have had
.to serve a life term in prison, although
innocent. . D

COISTABLE SALE

—

IR. Aubrey Vs. Martin. Lumber Com-
pany, No, 307, Second Justice Court,
Ward 2, State of Louisiana, Parish
of Bienville. \.

Under and by virtue of a Writ. of
Execution isued from the above nam-
ed Honorable: Court and to me direct-
ed I have seized and will offer fon:
sale to the last and highest bidder for
cash with the benefit of appraisement.
aut the principal front door of the

K.

‘| Second Justice of the-Peace Office. in

the Town of Gibsland, Bienville Par-
sh, Louisiana, within legal sale hours

on
Saturday, May 13th, 1922

the following described property to.
wit: ;

One saw mill planer’ machine
(Lightning trademark). Number «of
said planer machine, side 4698, end
4670. Patented Sept. 20th, 1881 by J.
A. Fay & Co.

The above. descsibed property. seized
\as belonging to the defendant, Martin
| Lumber Company, and will be’sold to
‘satisfy said writ of execution and all
‘costs. This the 18th day of April

: \

P. C. BURNETTE, Contable.
pra
Don’t forget that all who pay their
monthly tickets on or by the first will
get a key for each $2.00, on the Music
Master we are giving away.—GIVENS
DRUG CO.

=O

SOCIAL AND PERSONAL HAP-
PENINGS FROM BIENVILLE

~ Ww. T. Hayes, of Ruston, spent the
week-end here.
| Mr. and Mrs. Loyd Frye spent tho
week-end with homefolks in Saline.
| Mrs. W. O. Campbell left Monday
for a three week’s stay in Hot ‘Springs
Ark.
_ Miss Alfee Scheen, of Dixie, spent
ithe Easter holidays here with home
folks. .
‘ Miss Lila Loe, of Mansfield, is ¢
guest in the home of Mr. and Mrs
Cosby Gatlin.
J. E. Crawford, of Eldorado, is vis.
iting relatives here..
| H. H. Emerson, T. J. Kerlin and
week-end visitors in the home of Mr
Fand Mrs. Emerson.
| Mrs. Kennington and son, of Bossier
City, were guest of. Mr. and Mrs, I
H. Kennington ‘last week.

week-end with homefolks,

| KESSIDE_ ig a real. dandruff Rein-
edy. It has a pleasing odor, promotes

when, others have failed. You. will
like it. Sold by Giveng Drag Com-
pany. - , (6-23-13t)

4).
we

the DEMOCRAT?

Mrs. Carrie Kerlin, of. Monroe, werce.}.

|B. ©. Poole, of Homer, spent the

growth ‘and actually. does the work.

Have you paid your ‘subscription ‘Go

evel lu be
the proper
yield up its

that the larg

up the repo:
the extent |
leases and

faith in the t

PERS

Mayor W.
has been a bi
on several o:
week.

“We are g!
Storey, Sims!
subscriber.

Mr. Jos. B
comes a new
crat this we
on our list.

Mr. G. W.
parish citizen
week and cal
his name ent
list. We a
such men as
our subscrib¢

!

Mr. O. Eh. 0
City Market
just opened
sonic buildin
to the Demo
glad to num
vertisers. H
pears elsewh
Democrat. \
will cater to
ness with a «
est desire ft
to it’s custo
by rendering
supplying on
ies and mea
as quality \
pects to gain
of the people
kind of ser\
eration of t]
bespeak for |
deserves.

Mr. J. O.
tial farmer o
this week as

The Arcad
installed a i
market depa
them to bet
quirements o
list of cust:
summer mon

By the ec
W. Boddie.
Democrat 1}
Mr. N. B. Bx
ginning. wit)

Messrs. H
‘successful m
are. among
subscribers
the past fey
edge their 1

Mr. W. T.
a business \
‘He’ deposit
newal of hi:


a BJEVELLVEEEW 27%

ARCADIA, BIENVILLE PARISH, LOUISIANA, THURSDAY, Al

| Aly

)

Blenwle Demoend 4-2

Ya

‘Bill

NEGRO PAYS FOR
‘CRIME WITH HIS LIFE

Bill Byrd Hung Today, (Friday) at 2:30 p.m.

Exoner-

ates Lonnie Jackson and Ed Smith in
Death Statement

Inasmuch as the Democrat fs a lit.

tle behind schedule this week,
able to publish the following state.
ment from Bill Byrd, negro, slaye1
of a white man named Murrell in Sep-

we are

tember of last year. This statement
was made ‘before B. FEF. Barnette.
Notary Public, at 12:05 o’clock and the
execution took place at 2:30 today
(Friday):
State of Louisiana, Parish of Bien
ville.
Before me the undersigned au.

thority personally came and appeared
Byrd, who after being duly
sworn deposes and says: ,

nany ho by
losing a) ‘)
e of 50 ‘to

ind egus—ih a well
is seaon of the year.

‘you money and is

fl

“Ed Smith aSked me how far was

‘I going and asked me did I want to

go as far as Shreveport and I told
him yes, but Mr. Murrell, he said he
didn’t expect he would let me go be-
cause I was young, but would let him
go to water the stock as far aS
Shreveport. .

I got on the tarin below Homer,
there about the old fish pond below
Homer. Me and Ed caught it togeth-

jer and rode it to Athens together in

the car with Mr. Murrell. ‘They put
both of us off there at Athens. Ed
went back to the caboose or some-
where and I went on down the track
and got in a car box by myself and
went to GibS. I never saw Ed Smith
any more except once there in the de-
pot at Gibs.
I -hadn’t saw Lon-
nie Jackson in about, three weeks. °}

I don’t know how or
| when he left Gibs.

left Gibs on the freight train in the,

car with Mr. Murrell: just about day |:

light. on the Second day of September,
1921, and afier we liad got down tie
road a piece, I got the gun and shot
him on the side of his head. He did-
n't know I was shooting him. 1]
I thought he had some money and I
wanted it.-: 1 got $27.00 or $28.00.
Right after I shot hiin I got off the
train and took the single barrel shot
gun that [had kiled him with and
some clothes with me. I come and
caught a train on the L. & N. W. and
® man took’ the gun and clothes and
throwed them down. I got back to
Homer that. night about midnight.

When I made ce my mind to kill
Mr. Murrell, Smith .or Lonnie

“Jackson rethit one was not on the

train and they didn’t know nothing
about it. Lam guilty of the crime
by myself, “The reason I said they
was in it-was because. Mr. Coleman

‘and Mr, Currie asked mo if they’ was-

n’t in it and I says yes, because’ I

‘thought it’ would make it. lighter on
me and I knew Ed Smith. and Lonnie

Jackson was charged with it and the
people thought they done it and they
thought I was Lonnie Jackson.” |
(Signed) BILL BYRD.

Sworn to and subscribed before mc

that his sins had
The baptismat

he felt
pardoned,

that
fully

ing
been

-ordinance wus udiministered in his cell
“and he seemed much relieved and took

part in the song service.

After the service he made a state:
ment to Sheriff Currie and others: whe
were present, in which he stated that
he alone was responsible for the death
of Murrell, and that Lonnie
condemned to bang at a later dat
tor complicity in the crime, and ld
Smith serving a life term in the peni
tentiary as another accomplice, were
in no way connected with the murder

This afternoon Byrd was visited by
his two sisters, a young brother, and
two uncles, besides several friends, aly
from the neighborhood of Homer. The
meeting with his relatives and friends
Was a yery touching scene. His sisters
and his little brother wept bitterly’
us they kissed him through the bars
und tears came to the eyes of hi:
uncles and their voices broke us they
tried to talk. Byrd kept his com
posure telling them not to worry
about bim. His voice broke however
when he told. them the hour of his
execution, and made the request tha

Jackson

‘they take is body back to Homer and

‘bury him bedside his mother, and he
turned away to hide his emotion.

| An effort was made to have Byrdy
and Lonnie Jackson’s sentences com
muted to life imprisonment.. Had thi:
been done, it now appears that Jack-
son and Smith would both have had
‘to serve a life term in prison, although
innocent.

ray
Vv

COISTABLE SALE

HW. R. Aubrey Vs. Martin Lumber Com- |

pany, No. 307, Second Justice Court,
Ward 2, State of Louisiana, Parish
of Bienville.

Under and by virtue of a Writ of.

Hxecution isued from the above nam-
ed Honorable Court and to me direct-
ed I have seized and will offer fon
sale to the last and highest bidder for

cash with the benefit of appraisement., |,

at the principal front door of the
Second Justice of thé:Peace Office. in
the Town of Gibsland, .Bienville Par-
ish, Louisiana, within legal sale hours

on
Saturday, May 13th,. 1922

the following described property to.
wit:

One saw mill planer
(Lightning trademark).
said planer machine, side 4698, end
4670. Patented Sept. 20th, 1881 by J.
A. | Fay & Co.

anolilne

‘The. abore. descritiled «property. seized

as' belonging to the defendant, Martin

Lumber Company, and will be sold to’
satisfy said writ of execution and all.

costs. This the Wth dav of Anril

Number . of:

INCREASED
IN

Interest in
tion continuc
ing of each «

continue to
transfers oar
d@. Repres:

terests and
centers have
leasing and
week, and it
locate any i

us it has all
J. . Sm
have paid

thirty-second
ities, and. le:

the large clo
by Smithern
ing as high

Acreage i)
ported to ta
While any or

erman block
thes thirty-se:
Among the
second roya
mention Fre:
Inney, W. 1.
R. Austin ap
Land own
Parish are :
for leases,
sisting of al
leased by. Ni
an acre.
The rig is
rendiness to
tract within
Able geolo:
the territory
pronounced t
most promis
tory they ha
seem to be
the proper
yield up its
that the lar;
up the repo
the extent
leases and
faith in the

PERS

Mayor W.
has been a }
on several ¢
week.

'We are g
Storey, Sims
subscriber.

Mr. Jos. J
comes a new
crat this w
on: our list.

Mr. G. W.

‘parish citize:

week and ca
his name en
list... We a
such men as

‘our subscrib

Mr..O. FE.
City Market
just opened
sonic buildi
to the Den:


|

we oT

a ®

Byrne executed _
for 1984 slaying
of cashier he dated

yrne executed _

a

bymaryFosren — f  U—2

Associated Press writer

ANGOLA, La. — Edward R. Byrne Jr., who romanced,
robbed and murdered a north Louisiana gas station cashier
nearly four years ago, was put to death early Tuesday in
Louisiana’s electric chair.

Lawyers for Byrne, 28, used up all their options Monday
when the State Pardon Board refused to recommend a
commutation of the death sentence and then the U.S. Supreme
Court refused to delay the execution.
Other state and federa] courts also refused earlier Monday
to stop what was the 100th U.S. execution since capital
punishment was reinstituted more than 10 years. ago.
Eighteen of the 100 exeeutions occurred in Louisiana, where

Byrne became the third murderer put to death so far this year.

Six pro-capital punishment demonstrators stood outside
‘ the prison. One carried a sign which read: “Thanks, Sam
_ Jones,” alluding to the pseudonym used by officials to protect
_the anonymity of the penitentiary’s executioner.
The sign carrier identified himself as Johnny Reece of
Pineville and said he felt deprived because his daughter’s

ae MARK SALTZ MORNING ADVOCATE
Edward R. Byrne Jr. sits at Pardon Board hearing at _ See Sh
Angola on Monday ™ _; SEE BYRNE, 10A_


—

Byrne!’

» CONTINUED, FROM; 1A '»: dese ah ded anlh eleitiyE ee SHEE 28: ae geal ; e :
killer “was sentenced to life all four vobed against a lighter sentence. Danesh said he had become friends with he had to shut her up.”

imprisonment. 7 A fifth member was absent because of Byrne after the killer was incarcerated —_Potterfield argued that jury selection

.. “It gives us a sense of justice to see
this done to him (Byrne),” Reece said.
+ “It doesn’t make me happy to see
someone die, but it gives me a sense of
satisfaction to see justice served.”

Warden Hilton Butler desotthied

Byrne as “calm” Monday night. Byrne
requested and was given a final meal of
T-bone steak, fried shrimp, cole slaw
and Kool-Aid, Butler said.

The warden said Byrne spent much of
the day alone with his lawyers. No
relatives visited Byrne and he asked for
no spiritual adviser, though prison
chaplains would be available if Byrne
changed his mind, said Butler:

At Monday’s pardon board hearing,
Byrne was described by defense
attorneys Amanda Potterfield and
Nancy Baumgartner as a sensitive,
articulate jailhouse poet who helped
other inmates write letters to loved
ones.

Byrne, clad in blue j jeans and T-shirt,
claimed he never intended to kill his
victim.

“I don’t know exactly what it is that I
can Say to y’all,” said the curly-haired
prisoner. “I was planning to rob this
woman all along. It was all set up. There
were no flaws that I could see.”

Four of the five pardon board
members who heard Byrne’s case and

National Guard duty. .

Ever since his arrest, Byrne has
admitted that he started dating Johnson
because he knew she handled large
sums of money at the service station
where she worked. But he insisted he
never meant to kill her.

Johnson died after being struck
repeatedly with a hammer.

“I just attempted to knock her
unconscious,” Byrne told the pardon
boardina hearing that began about 14
hours before his scheduled execution.
“It didn’t work. She didn’t become
unconscious. I just kept hitting her until
she did.”

As Byrne asked the pardon board to
recommend reducing his sentence to
life imprisonment, efforts to save him
continued at the U.S. Supreme Court.
Early Monday, the 5th U.S. Circuit
Court of Appeals and the state Supreme
Court rejected appeals. -

Appeals were based on numerous
arguments, among them that Byrne

should have had 90 days to appeal an-

adverse federal appeals court ruling
handed down May9.

At the pardon board hearing, which
took. place at ‘the prison, defense
lawyers had Yousef Danesh, a Southern
University professor of political
science, read poetry written by Byrne.

at the state prison.

Baumgartner said Byrne was a young
man deeply remorseful about the death
he had unintentionally caused.

-“There’s no question this was a felony
murder. It was a premeditated robbery,
but not a premeditated murder. This
was a robbery that went sour.”

But Henry Brown, the district
attorney who prosecuted the case,
painted Byrne as a manipulative rogue
and cold, calculating killer.

Brown said Byrne had been caught in
a Leesville hotel room the morning
after the killing, naked, with a barmaid
he’d picked up at a nearby tavern and
proposed marriage to. Parked outside
was a car Byrne had stolen from the
woman he lived with before getting
involved with Johnson, the prosecutor
said.

- Brown said the victim has been hit 13
to 15 times with the hammer “with most
of the blows enough to kill her.”

“She fell face first and you can see
from her face how it had bounced up and
down on the concrete floor each time he
hit her,” Brown said.

- “Tt would have been no problem for

him to steal the money,” said Bossier -

City police detective George West. “But

in Byrne’s trial took only one day — an
unconscionably short period of time, she
said. She said jurors at first were
deadlocked on the question of whether
to sentence Byrne to death and may
have rushed their decision because the
trial started on the Monday before
Thanksgiving 1984 and ended the
following Wednesday.

Newsmen named

RADNOR, Pa. (AP) — The vote is in
for the 1988 all-star nightly news team
with Peter Jennings, described as “the
least aggravating” and Tom Brokaw,
“the most natural without seeming silly
or confused,” tying as best anchors in a
tight race.

. The team was elected by an informal
panel of judges assembled by TV Guide, .
which notes in its June 18 issue, “that if
sports has all-star teams, maybe TV
news should have one, too.”

ABC’s White House correpsondent
Sam Donaldson was also among those
honored “even though ... he often
oversteps journalistic bounds,”’said one
judge, critic David Shaw.


——

S

a

preme Court rej ects

man’s stay of executior

WASHINGTON (AP) — The
Supreme Court late Monday denied
two applications to halt the
scheduled Tuesday morning execu-
tion of a Louisiana man convicted
of romancing, robbing and murder-
ing a service station worker in
August 1984.

The denials of the applications by

Edward Byrne Jr., 28, set the stage
for the 100th execution in the nation
since ri doom punishment was
reinstated more than 10 years ago.

The first application for stay of
execution filed by Byrne was

Justices William J. Brennan and
Thurgood Marshall, who dissent to
all executions, said Supreme Court
spokeswoman Toni House. Justices
Harry A. Blackmun and John Paul

Stevens indicated they also would ©

have granted the stay, Ms. House
said, but noted that it takes five
justices to grant such a stay. ,
The second application also was
denied with dissents by Brennan.
and Marshall, with Stevens _in-
_dicating he also would have
granted the stay, she said. yj
Byrne request that the court
review the case was not addressed,
Ms. House said.

Byrne was to die in the electric
chair at the Louisiana State —

Penitentiary in Angola for fatally
bludgeoning Roberta Johnson‘ of

|

‘|

|

denied with the standard dissent by .

Bossier City. He has admit

‘since his arrest that he star

dating her because she hand
large sums of money at the serv
station where he worked.

He admitted hitting her in
head with a hammer, but insis
that he never intended to kill he

|

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Killer’s bid to live will draw challenge

By The Associated Press

Edward R. Byrne Jr. is a loving
son and brother. A bright, articu-
late man who writes poetry and
helps fellow death row inmates
write letters. .

Edward R. Byrne Jr. is a
vicious killer who began dating
Roberta Johnson to gain access
to the cash she handled at work,
and beat her to death with a
hammer when he robbed her.

Those are the pictures attor-

neys planned to present to the
Louisiana Pardon Board on
Monday when the convicted mur-
derer was to make one more
attempt to avoid the electric
chair.
Byrne is scheduled to be exe-
cuted shortly after midnight
Monday at the State Penitentiary
at Angola.

Byrne’s attorneys on Friday
asked the state Supreme Court
and the 5th U.S. Circuit Court of
Appeals in New Orleans to stop
the execution.

Nancy Baumgartner, an Iowa
attorney representing Byrne, said
the appeals were filed after U.S.
District Judge Donald Walter

refused to issue a 60-day injunc-
tion.
“He’s well educated and can
be an asset to the prison if his
sentence is commuted to life,”
Baumgartner said. “We want to
show that, as well as show him as
a loving family member and a
man who suffered from a child-
hood spent following his father’s
military career.”

Byrne, 27, of Tendal, Fla., was

sentenced to die for beating

Johnson to death with a hammer
in 1984 while robbing the Bossier
City service station where she
worked. He has admitted killing
Johnson, but said he didn’t mean
to.
Court records show Byrne
admitted he began dating John-
son because he planned to rob the
service station, where he knew
she handled large amounts of
money.

According to court records,
Byrne went to the station with
Johnson on Aug. 13, 1984, and
battered her a dozen times with a
ball-peen hammer as ; -2 pre-
pared to take more than $7,000 to
the bank.

He later said he only meant to

knock Johnson unconscious.

Dr. George McCormick, who
performed the autopsy, testified
that Johnson was hit six times on

vicious “blitz attack.”
Caddo Parish District Attor-

-ney Henry Newton Brown Jr.

said he planned to be at the hear-

ing to lay out the state’s case

her upper back, twice. on the neck
against Byrne again.

and four times on the head in a

NATIONAL
DIGEST

400th execution

sANGOLA, La. — A man who ro-
manced a gas station cashier,
robbed her and fatally bludgeoned
her died early today in Louisiana's
etectric chair. It was the 100th U.S.
execution since capital punishment
was reinstituted nearly 10 years ago.
‘Lawyers for Edward Byrne Jr., 28,
used up all their options Monday
when. the State Pardon Board re-
_ fusedito recommend a commutation
of the death sentence and then the
U.S. Supreme Court refused to delay
the execution. ,
Other state and federal courts also

refuséd earlier Monday to stop the
third: execution in Louisiana this
year and the state’s 18th since the
1976 U.S. Supreme Court ruling al-
lowing states to resume use of the .
death penalty.

Byrne was executed.for his admit-
ted August 1984 nammer slaying of
Roberta Johnson, who was 25-at the
time.

. SV) '896h ‘bt ounr ‘Aepseny « jeuly aeg OJUBWBIDES OUL © x

«
ry


Louisiana killer executed

ANGOLA, La. — A man who
romanced a gas station cashier,
robbed her and fatally bludgeoned her
died early today in Louisiana’s
electric chair. It was the 100th US.
execution since capital punishment
was reinstituted.

Lawyers for Edward R. Byrne Jr.,
28, used up all their options onday
when Louisiana’s Pardon Board
refused to recommend a commutation
of the death sentence and then the
U.S. Supreme Court refuséd to delay

the execution. /7- /

Tuesday, June 14, 1988
Reno Gazette-Journal

t

nal News
D

|

LOUISIANA EXECUTION: A
man who romanced a gas station
cashier, robbed her and fatally
bludgeoned her died early today in
the electric chair in Angola, La. It
was the 100th U.S. execution since
capital punishment was reinstitut-
ed nearly 10 yeurs ago. Lawyers
for Edward R. Byrne Jr., 28, used
all their options when the State
Pardon Board refused to recom-
mend a commutation and the U.S.
Supreme Court refused to delay
the execution.

__ San Jose Mercury News g Tuesday, June 14, 1988

eg etn Str Oe Se OT Comme?

an eee - tie Se RST wee ‘

. i pes
~

- “Murderer is executed
"sm 100th in 10 years

. ANGOLA, La.— A manwho ro-
manced a. gas station cashier,
robbed her and fatally blud-
boned her died early today in
uisiana’s electric chair. It was
the 100th U.S. execution since
capital punishment was reinsti-
tuted nearly 10 years ago. Law-
yers for Edward R. Byrne Jr.,
. 28, used up all their options yes-
- terday when the State Pardon
Board refused to recommend a
~ commutation of the death sen-
_. tence and the U.S. Supreme
"Court refused to delay the execu-
‘tion. Byrne .was put to death at.
- the Louisiana. State Penitentiary
-here for fatally bludgeoning Rob-
_-erta Johnson of Bossier City.

THE TRIBUNE, Oakland, California ‘


Lawyers tryl

By MARY FOSTER
Associated Press writer

NEW ORLEANS — Edward R.
Byrne Jr. is a loving son and
brother, a bright, articulate man
who writes poetry and helps fellow
death-row inmates write letters.

Edward R. Byrne Jr. is a vicious
killer who began dating Roberta
Johnson to get access to the cash she
handled at work, and beat her to
death with a hammer when he
robbed her of that money.

Those are the pictures attorneys
planned to present to the State
Pardon Board Monday when the
convicted murderer makes one
more attempt to avoid his trip to the
Louisiana electric chair.

Byrne is scheduled to be executed
shortly early Tuesday at the state
prison in Angola.

AROS -

“He's well educated and can be
an asset to the prison if his sentence
is commuted to life,’ Nancy
Baumgartner, one of Byrne's
attorneys, said. “We want to show
that, as well as show him as a loving
family member and a man who
suffered from a childhood spent
following his father’s military
career.”

Byrne, 27, of Tendal, Fla., was
sentenced to die for beating
Johnson to death with a hammer in
1984 while robbing the Bossier City
service station at which she
worked. He has admitted killing
Johnson, but said he didn’t mean to.

Court records show Byrne
admitted that he began dating
‘Johnson because he planned to rob

pat >

ng to st

the service station where he knew
she handled large amounts of
money.

According to court records,
Byrne went to the station with
Johnson on Aug. 13, 1984. and
battered her a dozen times with a
ball-peen hammer as she got ready
to take more than $7,000 to the
bank.

He later said he only meant to
knock Johnson unconscious.

Dr. George McCormick. who
performed the autopsy, testified
that Johnson was hit six times on
her upper back, twice on the neck
and four times on the head in a
vicious “blitz attack.”

Caddo Parish District Attorney
Henry Newton Brown Jr. said he

te

*

op execution

planned to be at the hearing to lay
out the state’s case against Byrne
again.

“T don't think there’s any way the
Pardon Board could commute his
sentence. This was a vicious crime
and he’s clearly guilty,” Brown
said.

Baumgartner said she thinks
Byrne's childhood is responsible tor
what happened to him later in life.
Byrne's father made a career of the
Air Force and she said the family
moved 17 times during Byrne's
youth.

“T think he’s an example of what
happens to military kids. He never
formed lasting attachments during
his childhood,” Baumgartner
explained.


¥

<&

,

i

— £-||-&
awyers file eipedia
of scheduled execution

NEW ORLEANS (AP) — Lawyers for
convicted murderer Edward R. Byrne
Jr. on Friday took their petitions to
block Byrne’s execution to the state
Supreme Court and the 5th U.S. Circuit
Court of Appeals after rejection of their
pleas in lower courts.

Nancy Baumgartner, an Iowa
attorney representing Byrne, said the
appeals were filed after U.S. District
Judge Donald E. Walter of Monroe
denied a 60-day injunction that would
have blocked Byrne’s date with the
electric chair next Tuesday morning at
the state prison in Angola.

“We have a couple of issues we feel
the courts should consider,”
Baumgartner said.

The claim rejected by Walter is that
the execution date violates Byrne’s civil
rights because it would fall within the
60-day period granted by the U.S.
Supreme Court to argue against-its June
2 denial of Byrne’s earlier appeal.

Baumgartner said Walter’s ruling
was appealed to the 5th Circuit.

The state Supreme Count appeal,
Baumgartner said, was based on a state
court’s denial of a new sentencing trial.

Byrne, 27, of Tendal, Fla., is
scheduled to die for beating his
girlfriend to death with a hammer in
1984 while robbing the Bossier City
service station where she worked. He

_ has admitted killing Roberta Johnson,

but said he didn’t mean to.
Court records say Byrne admitted

that he began dating Johnson because he
planned to rob the service station where
he knew she handled large amounts of
money.

According to court records, Byrne
went to the station with Johnson on Aug.
13, 1984, and battered her a dozen times
with a ball-peen hammer as she got
ready to take more than $7,000 to the
bank.

He later said he only meant to knock
Johnson unconscious.

Dr. George McCormick, who
performed the autopsy, testified that
Johnson was hit six times on her upper
back, twice on the neck and four times
on the head in a vicious “blitz attack.” .

At 10 a.m. Monday, the state Pardon
Board is scheduled to hear an appeal to ©
commute Byrne’s sentence to life in
prison

Byrne is to be the first convicted
killer to appear before Gov. Buddy
Roemer’s Pardon Board, which began
reviewing cases May 3.

Bossier Parish District Attorney
Henry Newton Brown Jr. said he plans
to be at the hearing to lay out the state’s
case against Byrne again. |

Baumgartner said defense attorneys
would present evidence showing that
Byrne suffered from his childhood as
the son of a career Air Force man. She
said the family made 17 moves during
Byrne’s youth, which left him unable to

form attachments to others.

By The Associated Press

’ A man scheduled to die early
Tuesday in the state’s electric chair will
get a chance Monday to plead for his
life, the state Pardon Board said.

‘The board scheduled a Monday
morning hearing for Edward R. Byrne
Jr., condemned for killing his lover
during a 1984 service station robbery in
Bossier City.

Court records show that Byrne
admitted he began going out with
Roberta Johnson because he planned to
rob the service station and knew she

\

Apt Pine p+

estUVanew o~

~9-~8S

o hear inmate’s plea

handled large amounts of money for it.

According to court records, Byrne
went to the station with Johnson on Aug.
13, 1984, and hit her in the back of the
neck with a ball-peen hammer as she
got ready to take more than $7,000 to
the bank.

He later admitted killing Johnson, but
said he had only meant to knock her
unconscious.

Dr. George McCormick, who
performed the autopsy, testified that
Johnson was hit a dozen times on her
upper back, neck and head in a vicious

Oma WY rh hsg Lko
ce 07 20202

6A - WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, 1988 - USA TODAY

FROM USA TODAY'S NATIONAL NEWS NETWORK

|

TiAl cay Ginere 1977 (hy firing « squads ver
Selby, apy sr th dh ta Arthouse Gary Bet rx

La. execution is 100th
since penalty reinstated

Guards strapped him in, put electrodes on his shaved
head and dropped a canvas mask over his face Tuesday
as Edward Byrne Jr. became the 100th person executed
since the death penalty’s reinstatement In 1976. Symbolic
of the fight over capital punishment, six people picketed
outside while Byrne drummed his fingers until electricity
jotted him. Executed: 55 whites, 39 blacks, six Hispanics.

ALABAMA: (By electrocution) John Evans Ill, 33, April 22, 1983;
Arthur Lee Jones Jr., 47, March 21, 1986; Wayne Eugene Ritter, 33,
Aug. 28, 1987.

FLORIDA: (By electrocution) John Spenkelink, 30, May 25, 1979;
Robert Sullivan, 36, Nov. 30, 1983; Anthony Antone, 66, Jan. 26,
1984; Arthur F. Goode III, 30, April 5, 1984; James Adams, 47, May
10, 1984; Carl Shriner, 30, June 20, 1984; David L. Washington, 34,
July 13, 1984; Ernest John Dobbert Jr., 46, Sept..7, 1984; James
Henry, 34, Sept. 20, 1984; Timothy Palmes, 37, Nov. 8, 1984; James
Dav'd Raulerson, 33, Jan. 30, 1985; Johnny Paul Witt, 42, March 6,
1985; Marvin Francois, 39, May 29, 1985; Daniel Morris Thomas, 37,
Apri 15, 1986; David Livingston Funchess, 39, April 22, 1986; Ron-
ald J. Straight, 42, May 20, 1986; Beauford White, 41, Aug. 28, 1987;
Willie Jasper Darden, 54, March 15, 1988. ‘
GEPRGIA: (By electrocution) John Ekdon Smith, 53, Dec. 15, 1983;
Ivor R. Stanley, 28, July 12, 1984; Alpha Otis Stephens, 39, Dec. 12,
1984; Roosevelt Green, 28, Jan. 9, 1985; Van Roosevelt Solomon,
42, Feb. 20, 1985; John C. Young, 28, March 20, 1985; Jerome Bow-
den, 33, June 24, 1986; Joseph Mulligan, 35, May 15, 1987; Richard
Tucker, 44, May 22, 1987; William: Boyd Tucker, 31, May 29, 1987;
William Mitchell, 35, Sept. 1, 1987; Timothy W. McCorquodale, 35,
Sept. 21, 1987.
INDIANA: (By electrocution) Steven Judy, 24, March 9, 1981; WIl-
iam E. Vandiver, 37, Oct. 16, 1985.
. LOUISIANA: (By electrocution)
Robert Wayne Wiliams, 31, Dec. 14,
1983; Johnny Taylor Jr., 30, Feb. 29,
1984; Elmo Patrick Sonnier, 35, April
5, 1984; Timothy Baldwin, 46, Sept.
10, 1984; Earnest Knighton Jr., 38,
Oct. 30, 1984; Robert Lee Willle, 26,
Dec. 28, 1984; David Dene Martin,
32, Jan. 4, 1985; Benjamin Berry, 31,
June 7, 1987; Alvin Moore Jr., 27,
June 9, 1987; Jimmy Glass, 25, June
12, 1987; Jimmy Wingo, 35, June 16,

. AP 1987; Witte Watson, 30, July 24,
BYRNE: Electrocuted in 1987; John Brogdon, 25, July 30,
Louisiana on Tuesday 1987; ere Rault, 36, ae o

Byrne Jr., "28, June 14, 1988.

MISSISSIPPI: (By gas chamber) Jimmy Lee Gray, 34, Sept. 2,
1983; Earl Edward Johnson, 26, May 20, 1987; Connie Ray Evans,
27, July 8, 1987.

NEVADA: Jesse Bishop, 46, Oct. 22, 1979 (by gas chamber); Car-
rol Edward Cole, 47, Dec. 6, 1985 (by injection).

NORTH CAROLINA: (By injection) James W. Hutchins, 54, March
odie a pa atc 2, 1984; John William Rook, 27,

SOUTH CAROLINA: (By electrouction) Joseph Carl Shaw, 29,
dan. 11, 1985; James Terry Roach, 25, Jan. 10, 1986.

TEXAS: (By injoction) Chartle Brooks Jr., 40, Dec. 7, 1982; James


Louisiana Executes _

Killer. Who. Used a

Cote Peen. Hammer

“Aasoclated Press

Angels, La. hee ab ees et a :

Ro seed Edward” R. “Byrne Jt, who. TO.
manced a gas station cashier, eS
bed her. and fatally bludgeoned her.

- with. a hammer, was put. to death |

early: itoday: in: Loulsians: 8 electnie
», chair... : aa A 4

Ag? AWPU

pyine "28, ,0f: mendil? Flas was -
“declared dead at 12:12 a.m. at Louisi- .-
-ana’ State’ ‘Penitentiary,’ ‘said, Jim.
Morris, state corrections offictal: ts

ppttfes Sthey Sas Fake oe atte ‘

He had - been: condemned. for,

- “idlling’ ‘25-year-old Roberta Johnson *.
a of Bossier City’on ‘Aug. 14, 1984. He «
admitted that he had started dating. |.
“: Johnson: ‘because ‘she handled large : b
‘gums :of : ‘money,at, the'ser'vice ‘sta:
- tion, He said he never ‘meant to kill
- her and ‘struck her repeatedly with —
“the hammer. witb, ‘the’ intention’ ‘ot
a8 oe her- ‘unconscious. «

deen tle retlhe . 2 Bas ae gent: ua £
a Byrne's “é@xecution: “Was: ‘yithe’: we
= 100th int ‘the United’ States’and'the..:
* 18thin Louisiana since the Supreme
_Court. lifted ‘its: “ow ‘on fede Bune .
~ ishment in:1976.',-5. 3: i are

\e phate oe eras

nepeeense

Tuesday, June 14, 1988 &

<I

oe (8 ase roreosseres


Louisiana Convict Is Executed for Brutal Slaying in Robbery

ANGOLA, La., June 14 (AP) — A

man who romanced a cashier, robbed.

her and beat her to death with a:ham-
mer was electrocuted today, becoming
the 100th person executed since capital
punishment. resumed in the United
States in 1977. 3 yess

The convict, Edward R. Byrne Jr., 28
years old, had argued that he did not in-
. tend to kill the woman in the robbery of
a gasoline station in 1984. But he said
Monday that he had dated her with the
intent of robbing her, knowing that she
handled large sums of money. And he
said that when he had tried to knock
her unconscious ‘“‘it didn’t work.”

“She didn’t become unconscious,”’ h
— just kept hitting her until she

id.” ee wae ee

Eighteen of. the 100 executions since
the Supreme. Court reinstated the
death penalty have taken place in
Louisiana, which is tied with. Florida
for the second-highest number nation-

He becomes the
100th inmate to
be put to death
since 1977.

| prison for confirmation of Mr. Byrne’s

ally. Texas has put 27 people todeath. -

Thirty-seven states enacted capital
punishment laws after the 1976. Su-
preme Court ruling. . ;

Three state and Federal courts on
Monday refused. requests by Mr.
Byrne’s lawyers to block the execution.
Louisiana’s Pardon Board also refused
to recommend a commutation of his
sentence to lifeimprisonment,

Six demonstrators supporting capi-
tal punishment waited outside the

‘he had any final words, he smirked,

death. One held a
*‘Thanks, Sam /ones,” alluding to the
pseudonym = by officials to protect
the anonymity of the executioner.

The man carrying the sign identified
himself as Johnny Reece of Pineville.
He said he felt deprived because the
man who killed his 16-year-old step-
daughter was sentenced to life impris-
onment. |

Mr. Byrne showed no emotion when
he entered the death chamber. Asked if

Sign reading

shook his head and replied, ‘‘Nope.”’
Mr. Byrne was convicted of first-de-
gree murder in the death of Roberta
Johnson, 25, who was bludgeoned with
a hammer in the $7,000 robbery at th
Bossier City service station. _ ;

‘It Was All Set Up’
“I don’t know exactly what it is that

.Baumgartner, said.

can say to you all,” Mr. Byrne said ina
pardon board hearing Monday at the}

THE NEW YORK ‘TIMES, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, 1988

penitentiary. “‘I was planning to rob
this woman all along. It was all set up.
There were no flaws that I could see.”’

Defense attorneys and a university
professor who came to know Mr. Byrne}
portrayed him as a penitent killer and:
as a sensitive, articulate jailhouse poet
who helped other inmates write letters
to loved ones.

“It was a premeditated robbery, but
not a premeditated murder,” Mr.
Byrne’s defense attorney, Nancy;

{

But the District Attorney, Henry!
Brown, called Mr. Byrne manipulative,
roguish and cruel.

Mr. Brown said Mr. Byrne was;
caught in.a hotel room the -morning'
after the killing, with a barmaid he had
picked up at a tavern and to whom he
had proposed marriage. Parked out-
side was an automobile Mr. Byrne had.
stolen from a woman he lived with be-
fore getting involved with Miss John-
son, the prosecutor said.


a.
°

)
1

Fn tht

Tuesday, June 14, 1988

San Francisco Chronicte

Louisiana Executes
Killer Who Used

Ball Peen Hammer

Associated Press
Angola, La.

Edward R. Byrne Jr., who ro-
manced a gas station cashier, rob-
bed her and fatally bludgeoned her

- with a hammer, was put to death

early today in Louisiana’s electric
chair.

Byrne, 28, of Tendal, Fla., was -

declared dead at 12:12 a.m. at Louisi-
ana State Penitentiary, - said Jim
Morris, state corrections official.

He had been condemned for —
- killing 25-year-old Roberta Johnson
of Bossier City on Aug. 14, 1984. He «

admitted that he had started dating
Johnson because she handled large
sums of money at the service sta-

‘tion. He said he never meant to kill -

‘her and struck her repeatedly with
the hammer with the intention of
knocking her unconscious.

Byrne’s execution was the
100th in the United States and the
18th in Louisiana since the Supreme
Court lifted its ban on capital pun-
~ ishment in 1976.

ee)

San Francisco Examiner

Hammer killer |

A-2 Tuvesday, June 14, 1988 _7 iol Se

dies in chair
in Louisiana

EXAMINER NEWS SERVICES

* ANGOLA, La. — A man who ro-
manced a gas Station cashier,
robbed her and fatally bludgeoned
her died early Tuesday in Louisi-
ana’s electric chair.

It was the 100th U.S. execution
since capital punishment was rein-
stituted in 1976.

Lawyers for Edward R. Byr:.
Jr., 28, used up all their options
Monday when Louisiana’s Pardon

Board -refused to recommend a .
commutation of the death sentence.
-and the US. Supreme Court re ©

fused to delay the execution.

He was executed at the Louisi-
ana State Penitentiary for his Au-
gust 1964 hammer slaying of Rober-
ta Johnson. A coroner pronounced
him dead at 12:12 a.m.

When he arrived in the death

chamber, Byrne showed no emo- .

tion. -Asked if he had any final
words, Byrne smiled slightly, shook
his head and said, “Nope.”

After being strapped into the
chair and masked, Byrne drummed
his fingers while awaiting the first
of a series of surges of electricity.

100th U.S.
prisoner -~
executed
since 1976

Byrne’s last meal consisted of a —
T-bone’ steak with mushrooms,’ —
fried shrimp, cole slaw and Kool-
Aid, prison Warden Hilton Butler
Butler said.

Byrne admitted he started dat-
ag Johnson because he knew she
handled large sums of money at the
service station where she worked.

But: he insisted he never -meant to
iil ber. ra as

“Johnson died: after being struck
repeatedly with ‘a ball peen ham-

mer.
“T just attempted to knock her

unconscious,” Byrne told the Par-
don Board. ae didn’ t work.”

7 dia in Argent ine plane

REUTER

BUENOS AIRES — Seven people
aboard a small aircraft were killed
when it crashed near La Plata Mon-

day...


BYRNE vy. BUTLER

a 501

Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (Sth Cir. 1988) em

cussion of the identification evidence, we
conclude that the evidence was sufficient to
allow the jury to find beyond a reasonable
doubt that Lavernia was the assailant.

VIL

[16] Finally, Lavernia requests an evi-
dentiary hearing on his claims. To receive
a federal evidentiary hearing, the habeas
corpus petitioner must allege facts that, if
proved, would entitle him to relief.*° The
court need not “blindly accept speculative
and inconcrete claims” as the basis upon
which to order a hearing.*! Nor is a hear-
ing required when the record is complete or
the petitioner raises only legal claims that
can be resolved without the taking of addi-
tional evidence.**

Each of Lavernia’s claims could be re-
solved adequately by reference to the trial
court record. The district court, therefore,
correctly declined to conduct an evidentiary
hearing.*3

For these reasons, the judgment is AF-
FIRMED.

30. Taylor v. Maggio, 727 F.2d 341, 347 (Sth Cir.),
certificate of probable cause denied, 465 US.

1075, 104 S.Ct. 1432, 79 L.Ed.2d 755 (1984).

31. Baldwin v. Blackburn, 653 F.2d 942, 947 (5th
Cir.1981), cert. denied, 456 U.S. 950, 102 S.Ct.
2021, 72 L.Ed.2d 475 (1982).

Edward R. BYRNE, Jr., a
Petitioner-Appellee, _~
ee

V.. bs

Robert H. BUTLER, Sr., Warden,
Louisiana State Penitentiary,
Respondent-Appeilant.

Edward R. BYRNE, Jr.,
Petitioner-Appellant,

Vv.

Robert H. BUTLER, Sr., Warden,
Louisiana State Penitentiary,
Respondent-Appellee.

Nos. 87-4687, 87-4708.

United States Court of Appeals,
Fifth Circuit.

May 9, 1988.

Rehearing Denied in No. 87-4708
- June 2, 1988.

State prisoner under sentence of death
moved for certificate of probable cause to
appeal denial by the United States District
Court for the Western District of Louisi-
ana, Tom Stagg, Chief Judge, of petition
for writ of habeas corpus. State of Louisi-
ana asked that stay of execution granted
by District Court be vacated. The Court of
Appeals, King, Circuit Judge, held that: (1)
trial court’s “restrictions” of right to in-
quire into veniremen’s understanding of
life imprisonment and parole did not violate
defendant’s constitutional rights to fair tri-
al and impartial jury; (2) even if state
prosecutor’s brief references to victim’s
character and family were improper, state-
ments did not render defendant’s trial fun-
damentally unfair so as to invite habeas
corpus relief; and (3) defendant was not
denied effective assistance of counsel in
murder prosecution.

Application for certificate of probable
cause denied, petition to vacate stay of
execution granted.

32. Williams v. Blackburn, 649 F.2d 1019, 1021
(5th Cir.1981).

33. Bridge v. Lynaugh, 838 F.2d 770, 776 (Sth
Cir.1988).

502

Alvin B. Rubin, Circuit Judge, filed
concurring opinion.

1. Habeas Corpus <113(6)

Standard for granting certificate of
probable cause to appeal denial of petition
for writ of habeas corpus is whether peti-
tioner has made substantial showing of de-
nial of federal rights; petitioner need not
show that he would prevail on merits, but
rather, must demonstrate that issues are
subject to debate among jurists of reason,
that court could resolve issues in different
manner, or that questions are worthy of
encouragement to proceed further. F.R.A.
P.Rule 22(b), 28 U.S.C.A.

2. Jury ¢131(13)

Trial court’s “restrictions” on defend-
ant’s right to inquire into veniremen’s
understanding of life imprisonment and pa-
role did not viclate defendant’s constitu-
tional rights to fair trial and impartial jury;
Louisiana rule, that conditions under which
person sentenced to life imprisonment with-
out benefit of parole, probation or suspen-
sion of sentence can be released are not
proper consideration for capital sentencing
jury, extends to voir dire, and trial court
did not forbid defense counsel from dis-
cussing powers of parole board, but rather,
merely warned counsel that comments
might invite state prosecutor to deliver dif-
ferent analysis of penalties. U.S.C.A.
Const.Amend. 6.

3. Habeas Corpus €=25.1(4)

To establish prosecutor’s remarks are
so inflammatory as to prejudice substantial
rights of defendant, habeas petitioner must
demonstrate either persistent and pro-
nounced misconduct or that evidence was
so insubstantial that absent remarks, con-
viction would probably not have occurred.

4. Habeas Corpus ¢90.2(1)

Evidentiary hearing was not necessary
to determine whether petitioner’s rights to
fair trial were impinged by state prosecu-
tor’s objections and trial court’s rulings
during voir dire in connection with possibili-
ty of early release of someone sentenced to
life imprisonment without possibility of
probation, parole or suspension of sen-

845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

tence, where only explicit reference to fu-
ture release came from defense counsel,
trial court allowed defense counsel to con-
tinue to emphasize irrevocable nature of
life imprisonment sentence, prosecutor’s
objections were immediately followed by
trial court’s admonition that statements of
attorneys were not law, and trial court
properly instructed jury that alternative to
death was life imprisonment without bene-
fit of probation, parole or suspension of
sentence.

5. Habeas Corpus ¢=45.2(4)

State trial court’s alleged error in con-
duct of state habeas proceeding did not
raise ground for federal habeas relief in
connection with petitioner’s state court cap-
ital murder trial and sentencing.

6. Habeas Corpus ¢-90.2(2)

Habeas petitioner was not entitled to
evidentiary hearing to evaluate charge that
his constitutional rights to due process
were violated when Louisiana trial court
judge interfered with witness for petitioner
and thereby denied him fair opportunity to
fully present his claims in state habeas
proceeding; trial court’s alleged error did
not arise in original capital murder prosecu-
tion but in later habeas proceeding, doc-
ument, stating that one of principal reasons

jury resolved its deadlock in favor of death |
penalty was belief that petitioner would be

paroled if death sentence was not impose
fell within general evidentiary proscriptic
against use of jury testimony to impeth

verdict, and document was unnotarized.nd

unsigned.

7. Criminal Law €723(1)

Prosecutor’s references to victi'’s love
of defendant and fact that defendané‘set
up” victim to steal from her were not™-
proper references to victim’s character, bu,
rather, were proper references to circum-
stances of case and supported by evidence.

8. Habeas Corpus ¢=45.2(7)

Even if state prosecutor’s reference to
victim’s character and death of her family
members was improper, comments did not
render defendant’s trial fundamentally un-
fair so as to invite habeas relief, where


, 7

BYRNE v. BUTLER

503

Cite as 845 F.2d 501 (5th Cir. 1988)

comments were brief and cryptic, informa-
tion divulged in remarks, that victim was
steady, decent and dependable employee,
was already before jury, and trial court
directed jury’s attention to defendant and
his crime and instructed them to ignore any
plays for sympathy from state prosecutor.
U.S.C.A. Const.Amend. 8.

9. Criminal Law <641.13(5)

Defense attorneys were not ineffective
for failing to have defendant evaluated by
mental health professional, even though de-
fendant refused to cooperate in his own
defense, asked to be executed, showed no
remorse for his actions, laughed during
guilt and sentencing phases of trial and
ridiculed family and attorneys for their con-
cern, where neither defendant’s actions fol-
lowing arrest nor his testimony at guilt
stage of trial gave any hint of problem,
testimony of defendant’s relatives lacked
any references to psychological difficulties,
overwhelming evidence of calculated na-
ture of crime belied any notice of mental
problems, and behavior of defendant was
equally consistent with behavior of callous
individual. U.S.C.A. Const.Amend. 6.

10. Criminal Law ¢996(1.1)

Jury’s consideration of invalid aggra-
vating circumstances under Louisiana law
did not entitle defendant to new sentencing
hearing, where armed robbery aggravating
ci{rcumstance also found by jury was clear-
ly \supported by evidence.

ll. Edomicide 354

Feet that one’of aggravating cirecum-
stances \found in death penalty phase of
capital njurder prosecution was one of ele-
ments of crime of first-degree murder dur-
ing course of armed robbery did not render
seéntence constitutionally impaired.

12. Habeas Corpus ¢90.2(3)

Evidentiary hearing was not necessary
to evaluate defendant’s claims of ineffec-
tive assistance of counsel in sentencing
phase of capital murder prosecution based
upon counsel’s failure to secure mitigating
evidence about defendant’s court martials,
where petitioner failed to concretely allege
existence of specific mitigating evidence

which attorneys should have secured. U.S.
C.A. Const.Amend. 6.

13. Criminal Law © 641.13(6)

Trial counsel was not ineffective in
failing to lay proper foundation for intro-
ducing purported military award certificate
and letter from defendant’s commanding
officer; proper foundation would require
calling someone from military to testify,
military witness might have led to admissi-
bility of military records counsel sought to
keep from court, and defendant’s father
testified briefly about contents of doc-
uments and jury was repeatedly informed
that defendant received honorable dis-
charge. U.S.C.A. Const.Amend. 6.

Henry N. Brown, Jr., Dist. Atty., 26th
Judicial Dist. Court of La., Benton, La., for
respondent-appellant Butler.

Amanda Potterfield, Nancy A. Baum-
gartner, Richard E. Klausner, Cedar Rap-
ids, Iowa, James H. Carter, Bossier City,
La., for petitioner-appellee Byrne.

Appeals from the United States District
Court for the Western District of Louisi-
ana.

Before RUBIN, KING and
HIGGINBOTHAM, Circuit Judges.

KING, Circuit Judge:

Edward R. Byrne, Jr., a state prisoner
under a sentence of death, moves this court
for a certificate of probable cause to appeal
the district court’s denial of his petition for
a writ of habeas corpus. In addition, the
state of Louisiana asks us to vacate the
stay of execution granted by the district
court. Finding that Byrne has failed to
make a substantial showing of the denial of
a federal right, we deny his application for
a certificate of probable cause. Moreover,
as Byrne has demonstrated neither a sub-
stantial case on the merits nor that the
balance of the equities weighs in his favor,
we vacate the stay of execution granted by
the district court.

504
I.

On the afternoon of August 14, 1984, the
body of Roberta Johnson (“Johnson”) was
discovered in the locked office of a gas
station in Bossier City, Louisiana. Three
weeks later, the grand jury of Bossier Par-
ish, Louisiana returned a true bill indicting
- Edward R. Byrne, Jr. (‘Byrne’) for first
. degree murder in violation of La.Rev.Stat.
Ann. § 14:30 (West 1986).!_ M. Randal Fish
(“Fish”) and Ford E. Stinson, Jr. (“Stin-
son’’) were appointed to represent Byrne at
trial. On November 27, 1984, a twelve
person jury found Byrne guilty as
charged.” In the penalty phase of Byrne’s
bifurcated trial, the jury unanimously rec-
ommended the death penalty, finding the
existence of three aggravating circum-
stances: (1) the victim had been killed dur-
ing the commission of an armed robbery;
(2) the offense was committed in a particu-
larly heinous, atrocious and cruel manner;
and (3) the victim was a witness to a crime
committed by the defendant.* See La.Code
Crim.Proc.Ann. art. 905.4 (West 1984).
Byrne was sentenced to death on January
29, 1984. Byrne’s conviction and sentence
were upheld by the Louisiana Supreme
Court, State v. Byrne, 483 So.2d 564 (La.
1985), and his petition for rehearing was
denied on March 7, 1986. Byrne’s petition
for writ of certiorari to the United States
Supreme Court was denied on October 6,
1986, Byrne v. Louisiana, — US. ——,
107 S.Ct. 248, 98 L.Ed.2d 608 (1986), and

1. A. First degree murder is the killing of a
human being:
(1) When the offender has specific intent to
kill or to inflict great bodily harm and is
engaged in the perpetration or attempted
perpetration of ... armed robbery, or simple
robbery;

C. Whoever commits the crime of first de-
gree murder shall be punished by death or life
imprisonment at hard labor without benefit
of parole, probation, or suspension of sen-
tence in accordance with the recommenda-
tion of the jury.

La.Rev.Stat.Ann. § 14:30 (West 1986).

2. The facts adduced at Byrne’s trial were metic-
ulously summarized by the Louisiana Supreme
Court in State v. Byrne, 483 So.2d at 564, 566-69
(La.1986), and wil! not receive extensive treat-
ment here. Suffice it to say that Byrne lured

845 FEDERAL REPORTER, 2d SERIES

Byrne’s petition for a rehearing of that
decision was denied on December 1, 1986.

Byrne’s subsequent attempt to secure
post-conviction relief in the Louisiana state
courts proved unsuccessful. Having ex-
hausted his state remedies, Byrne filed a
“Petition for Writ of Habeas Corpus, Re-
quest For Evidentiary Hearing, And Appli-
cation For A Stay of Execution” in the
United States District Court for the West-
ern District of Louisiana on January 16,
1987. On January 17, the district court
granted Byrne a stay of execution, request-
ed all records and transcripts, ordered that
briefs be filed, and granted Byrne’s appli-
cation to proceed in forma pauperis. In a
memorandum ruling filed August 31, the
district court, after concluding that an evi-
dentiary hearing was unwarranted, denied
Byrne’s habeas petition and found that
“Tajll of [Byrne’s] allegations have been
conclusory, unsubstantiated and clearly re-
futed by the existing record.” The district
court also entered a separate judgment de-
nying Byrne’s petition. On September 17,
the district court entered a supplemental
order to clarify its earlier ruling. In that
supplemental order, the district court
stressed that the January 17 stay of execu-
tion would remain in effect until all appeals
concerning Byrne’s application for habeas
relief were either waived or exhausted. On)
September 24, the district court denied
Byrne’s Rule 60(b) motion for relief froun
the judgment.

Johnson into an intimate relationship in order
to gain an opportunity to rob her of the service
station daily receipts she was responsible for
depositing in the bank. Byrne fully confessed
his acts upon arrest and at trial and ‘has never
denied that he did in fact kill Johnson. His sole
defense at trial was predicated on his testimony
that he did not intend to kill Johnson. -He
claims that he merely sought to render her
unconscious in order to avoid immediate dis-.
covery of the robbery.

3. The Louisiana Supreme Court later ruled that
under its opinion in State v. Loyd, 459 So.2d 498
(La.1984), the third aggravating factor listed in

the text above was inapplicable because the
homicide victim was an eyewitness only to the
armed robbery which resulted in her death rath-
er than to an earlier independent crime commit-
ted by Byrne. Byrne, 483 So.2d at 575.


42

1d4\1S5\

VICTIM LEFT
GROCERN STORE
HERE

BANK WH)c i
WAS VICTIMS
DESTINATION

At top is a detailed map of the

Rabito roadside murder. Detec-

tive Chief John J. Grosch, left,

directed the manhunt that

brought two assassins to justice
in record time.

operation. Immediately an all-station
message went out to New Orleans police.

“Look for two men in a green sedan—
license number 140-253,”

A police car filled with detectives
rushed to the scene. In the car were
Chief of Detectives John J. Grosch, De-
tective Captains Frank Lannes and Al-
fred Malone and Detectives William
Grosch, William Vandervoort, Walter
Klemmer and Joseph Mock.

Victim’s Identity Learned

A QUICK search of the dead man’s
body brought to light some personal
papers. From these they learned that the
murder victim was Charles Rabito, father
of two children and a trusted clerk for a
wholesale grocery establishment.

To the wholesale grocery went the de-

tectives. The manager said Rabito had’

been sent to a branch bank that morning
to deposit $1,446.66 in cash and $934.83in

- checks. He carried the money in a small

leather satchel and drove his own car.

“But that was more than two hours
ago,” the manager said, “and we haven't
seen or heard from his since. Frankly,
I’m worried.”

We told him what had happened. He
was aghast at the tragedy.

The family of the ‘dead man threw no
light on the mystery. His mother
was grief-stricken and wanted revenge.

His young wife stared at us in incredu-
lous disbelief. She was holding a baby
in her arms. A two-year-old son was
playing on the floor. We questioned
Rabito’s brothers. There were six of
them, all big men. Six big men so grief-
stricken they could scarcely bear to talk.

No, they said, they knew of no one who
would want to harm their brother.
Charlie, they felt sure, had no enemies.

We were up against a stone wall. A
young father had been taken for a ride
and ruthlessly killed. In or near New
Orleans, the two men who perpetrated
the crime roamed free. Who were they?

Why had Rabito been murdered ? Some
of the detectives held to the theory that
vengeance had prompted the crime while
others insisted that robbery was the sole
motive.

And then out of a clear sky came the
break.

Patrolman Stanley Breen was direct-
ing traffic along Carrollton avenue in
front of Lafayette school when two boys
rushed up to him, their eyes big with
excitement.

“There’s a gun down in the canal,
Mister,” they said.

“We saw a man throw it into the canal.
We saw a green sedan go zipping by.
Boy, was it moving !”

Accompanied by the two boys Patrol-
man Breen made his way to the canal.
There in the mud was the revolver.

He fished it out, found that it was a .32
caliber automatic. Immediately it was
turned over to Maurice O’Neil, head of
the bureau of criminal identification.

While O’Neil was searching the
weapon for fingerprints, Chief Grosch

STARTLING DETECTIVE

f

calle:
Rega
~~

throu

must
You
those

A’

out 1
foun
Sout
killer
the f
leath
chec
ing.
Ti
quar
wher
whic
oe’
ol
look
turn:
““}
you
A
ques
men
Mos
hour
thou
port
The:


credu-
1 baby
n was
tioned
six of
grief-
o talk.
ie who
“other.
emies,
A
a ride

New
‘trated
they ?
Some
y that
while
ie sole

ne the

lirect-
1ue in
» boys

with

canal,

canal.
ig by.

‘atrol-
canal,
,a 32
t was
ad of
mn.
the
rosch

TIVE

called in Detectives John Joly and Arthur
Regan.

“The bullets Rabito was shot with went
through his head,” he told them. “They
must be out there somewhere in the grass.
You two get spades and shovels and find
those bullets.” k

Murder Car Found

Avi= they left, Chief Grosch and
Detective Joseph Schwem started
out in search of the green sedan. They
found it at the corner of Panola and
South Carrollton avenues where the
killers had apparently abandoned it. On
the floor of the car they found the brown
leather satchel carried by Rabito. The
checks were there but the cash was miss-
ing.

The detectives drove the car to head-
quarters. They had no sooner arrived
when O’Neil came in with the revolver
which had been found in the canal.

“No fingerprints,” he said.

“Um,” Grosch replied. “Better take a
look at this car then, Maurice.” He
turned to Detectives Klemmer and Mock.

“Find out who owns this rod if it takes
you until the Fourth of July,” he ordered.

And so started the all-night murder
quest of the homicide squad. Every
member of the squad worked untiringly.
Most of them had been on duty for 20
hours or more. Yet sleep was not to be
thought of. Food became of minor im-
portance. Two killers were at large.
They had to be found.

As Klemmer and Mock started on their
search of the missing gun, they shook
their heads sadly. Tracing the owner

ADVENTURES

Re a eM ea

of a lone automatic in a city of almost
500,000 souls is no small job.

They began with the pawnshops. In
New Orleans every pawnshop is required
to make a daily report to police on ar-
ticles pawned a the previous 24
hours. In case of firearms the serial
number of each gun must be given.

* Comb City For Gun

RUN NING through the lists, the de-
tectives finally traced the gun to a
South Rampart street shop. After check-
ing the records the proprietor told them
that the revolver had been pawned in
June, 1931, by a Polymnia street matron.

The detectives: headed for Polymnia
street. But the woman no longer lived
there. Residents of the block said she
had moved to St. Charles avenue. No,
they didn’t know the number of the house.

A portion of the crowd awaiting the
double execution of the death-ride
killers is shown at left. The gallows is
hidden by a canvas screen. Below, Wil-
liam Andrews, the dairy boy who found
the roadside corpse.

“Guess we'll have to
door,” Mock said.

After much knocking
quiring they found her.
four and one half hours

“Yes,” the woman tok
pawned the gun. But |
to a friend of mine, an
redeemed it. I haven’
since.”

Then there began a |:
trail which led us from
other, each one of whon
gun and passed it to s
became a grim variation
ton, who’s got the butto:

Meanwhile, the two d:
in the field had returned
with a blood-spattered ..
Grosch turned it over t:
amination.

[Continued on {

o from door to

and much in-
They had spent
voking.

us readily. “I
gave the ticket
chanic, and he
seen the gun

ng and tedious
ne man to an-
had owned the
neone else. It
f “button, but-
»

ectives digging
o headquarters
’ caliber bullet.
O’Neil for ex-

ge 66)
43


«>

Our search
gun finally led
story to us \
vincing.

“Better gis

the once ove,”

point Detectiy
Dillman took
arrived at Ge
swered the d
wanted to see
Dallao opene
clothes closet
of George’s c
One shirt hac
on it, so they
tubber glove
view of the f:
been found ei
the wheel of t
The cleane:
proprietor sa
woman had b
“The bund]
a two-piece b:
trousers. [Ih
when in she
pants—this ti
“May we ;
quired.

New Orleans’ Riddle Of The Roadside Corpse

or the man who owned the
is to George Dallao whose
is suspicious and uncon-

George Dallao’s house
Grosch said. At this
Edwin Sbisa and George
up the trail, When they
rge’s house, his wife an-
or. They told her they
er husband’s clothes. Mrs.
bureau drawers and
but explained that “most
thes are at the cleaners.”
a suspicious looking stain
took it along. A pair of
also interested them in
t that no fingerprints had
ier on the murder gun or
1@ murder car.
5 was the next stop. The
{ that just yesterday a
ought in Dallao’s clothes.
she brought in contained
wn suit and a pair of gray
| just tagged the garments
ime with another pair of
ie navy blue.
e the clothes?” Sbisa in-

[Continued from page 43]

“Well,” the proprietor said, “the brown
suit and gray pants have been cleaned.
But you can see the blue pants. We've
just this minute put them in the water.”

Out of the water came Dallao’s trou-
sers. There were dark stains on them.

“Um,” said Dillman. “Stains on the
shirt we found at the house. Rubber
gloves. Now stains on these pants.”

The garments were dispatched te John
Daneeker, city chemist, to see if the stains
were bloodstains and the detectives re-
turned to headquarters.

When they made their report we de-
cided it was time to bring George Dallao
into the show-up room.

George Dallao walked in. He was
wearing a pair of gray trousers and a
gold and purple sweater reminiscent of
athletic days at school. Five witnesses
were grouped in the outer dimness of the
room. As the suspect paced back and
forth under the glaring lights, two ne-
groes who had seen a man entering the
death car shortly before the murder
looked him over. A service station at-
tendant looked him over as did young
Andrews.

At a command from Grosch, Dallao re-
moved the sweater and put on a gray coat.

The hour of death approaches and the two men who cold-bloodedly shot down
Charles Rabito turn to their spiritual adviser for strength to face the ordeal,

66

Then he pulled a soft hat over his eyes.
That was the way the man who hailed
the “death-car” had looked, one of the
witnesses said.

At a second command, Dallao raised
his right hand and shouted “Hey!” as
though asking a motorist for a lift.

At the end of the proceedings George
Dallao was positively identified by three
of the witnesses and partially identified
by two of them. Still he insisted he was
innocent. He had been at the moving
pictures all Thursday afternon, he said,
repeating his alibi again and again.

“Who did you go to the show with?”
Grosch wanted to know.

“Well, my brother drove me there and
I went with a fellow named Pete,”
George Dallao replied.

“Sure I was with George yesterday,”
George’s brother told Chief Grosch. “No,
not all day. Around noon I drove him
from home to Felicity and Magnolia
streets, where we picked up Pete. Then
I drove them to a show.”

“Get Pete!” ordered Grosch.

Pete was brought in.

“Did you go to the moving pictures
with George Dallao Thursday after-
noon?” Grosch asked him.

“Yes,” said Pete.

“Go right to the show?” a detective
asked.

“Well, not straight there,” Pete re-
plied. “First we stopped at a shop on
South Rampart street and George bought
a new hat.”

“Did he need a new hat?” asked Grosch.

“Well, he didn’t have any hat on,” said
Pete. “He was wearing a cap.”

“What act was going on when you
walked into the show?” Grosch asked.

“There was a blonde woman on the
stage. Yes, that was it.”

Grosch reached for the telephone.

Checks On Alibi

ROM the theater people he learned

that the blonde woman’s act had gone
on at 1:35 p. m.—one hour and 15 minutes
after the murder.

“It could have been done,” Grosch said
turning towards Malone. “Dallao could
have left Jefferson parish where the mur-
der was committed, about 12:30, driven
into town fast and reached Canal street
in time to pick up Pete, buy the hat and
still see the show.”

And Dallao’s alibi blew up.

Detectives Sbisa and Dillman went to
the tailoring shop and found the package
containing the gray cap.

We talked to Dallao’s family.

Did Rabito know George Dallao?

“Yes,” they replied.

The chain of evidence was tightening.

Looking up the records of the Dallao
brothers we discovered that George Dal-
lao had been questioned in connection
with a bank robbery and was believed to
be the owner of a speakeasy on Freret
street.

At the “speak,” hidden in a phono-
graph, Captain Delhom found several
steel-jacketed bullets and a leather holster
that would fit a .32 caliber gun.

By this time we were convinced that
George Dallao was implicated in the mur-

der. E
was th

Thro
they le
friend!
And s

Just
his ex
bullet
bullet,
gun fe
whose
Dallao

wT hie
Grosc}

the su
crimin

Quic
and bi
bloods
He po
his ali

H
ear
tained
face o
was ac
his st
It v
than .
His
who
questi
ing D
patine
other
the fa
with
said
Rabit
The
curse:
In
“Abo
to m)\
make
carrie
make
“Ts
arour
racke
for \

his eyes,

o hailed

2 of the

> raised
ey!” as
ft.

George
»y three
lentified
he was
moving
he said,
in.

with?”

ere and
Pete,”

erday,”
1. “No,
ve him
agnolia

Then

ictures
after-

tective

te re-
op on
ought

rosch.
” said

a you
ked.
n the

ne.

arned
gone
nutes

hn said
could
mur-
{riven
street
t and

nt to
‘kage

ning.
allao
Dal-
stion
:d to
reret

ono-
veral
ister

that
nur-

der. But there had been two men. Who
was the other one?

Through careful and judicious inqun y
they learned that Dallao had been very
friendly with a man named John Capaci.
And so we had another angle to work on.

Just about this time, O/Neil completed
his examination of the blood-splattered
bullet found at the murder scene. The
bullet, he said, had been fired from the
gun found at the bottom of the canal,
whose ownership we had traced to George
Dallao.

“That’s all I want to know,” said
Grosch.

Quietly, as is his manner, he confronted
the suspect with this latest bit of in-
criminating evidence.

Quietly he showed Dallao the holster
and bullets found in his speakeasy, the
bloodstained clothes, the rubber gloves.
hg painted out the obvious weaknesses in

is alibi.

The Suspect Breaks

"T BAe broke George Dallao. Since
early morning he had stoutly main-
tained his innocence, maintained it in the
face of nerve-racking grilling. Now he
was admitting his guilt, eager to blurt out
his story.

It was 6 p. m. when he confessed, less
than 36 hours after the crime.

His confession implicated John Capaci,
who was arrested. After one hour of
questioning Capaci confessed, implicat-
ing Dallao. Each man admitted partici-
pating in the holdup but each blamedl the
other for plotting the kidnaping and firing
the fatal shots. Capaci said that he pleaded
with Dallao not to shoot Rabito. Dallao
said that it was he who begged that
Rabito’s life be spared.

The two men brought face to face,
cursed each other.

In his confession George Dallao said:
“About a week ago Johnny Capaci came
to my house aad asked me if I wanted to
make a job. He said he knew a man that
carried plenty of money and that we could
make it and we would get by with it.

“I told him ‘No.’ I didn’t want to fool
around any more and I was out of the
racket and would sooner go to the welfare
for work than steal.

“But Johnny insisted. He said that it
would be easy and we could get by with
it, so I told him all right I would goinon
it.

“Last Tuesday morning Johnny came
back to my house and we drove down in
his car to look over the job. Well, after
looking things over we decided to pull it
on Thursday. Johnny told me he would
meet me on Thursday morning.

“I think it was at Liberty street where
I met Johnny Capaci and Charles Rabito.
They were riding in Rabito’s car and
Capaci was holding a gun on Rabito.
After getting into the car I took the
wheel and we put Rabito in the middle of
us, all the while Johnny Capaci holding
the gun on Charles Rabito.”

Dallao said that he drove the car
through the city and out into Jefferson
parish.

“After going about three miles we
turned into a dirt road and drove along
this road about half a block. I stopped
the car and Johnny and Charles Rabito
got out. All this time Capaci was holding
the gun on Rabito.

“Well, Capaci walked Rabito into the
weeds and after going a short distance
I heard two shots. It was then that I
noticed the money on the floor of the car
in the money bag.

“Johnny Capaci took the money and
he still has it. I don’t know how much
we got out of the job. I can’t understand
why Capaci killed Rabito. If I had known
it was going to be like that I wouldn't
have gone in on it.”

Fashionably attired in an expensive
gray suit, Capaci presented quite a con-
trast to Dallao in his gold and purple
sweater.

In his confession Capaci said that Dal-
lao came to his house about two months
ago and told him he wanted him to go on
some jobs with him.

About a month ago Capaci said Dallao
accompanied him to the wholesale gro-
cery establishment where Rabito worked.

“I said ‘George, don’t try to make this
place. You might hurt the boy that takes
the money out. He’s a friend of mine.’

“Then Thursday morning came and
George Dallao showed up at my house.
He said he was going to pull the job at
the grocery with someone else and if I
didn’t show him the right man, meaning
Charles Rabito, he would kill me. So [
agreed.”

Capaci said Dallao’s threats compelled
him to go along on the fatal ride. He ac-
cused Dallao of doing the actual shooting.

“Dallao gave me about $50 and kept
the rest of the money. We were supposed
to divide later on.”

That night, following the confessions,
Detectives Louis Keupferle and Robert
Hackney accompanied Dallao to a tene-
ment house on Delachaise street. From
the hearth in one of the rooms they took
$521 hidden there.

Sergeant Schwehm and Detective Mock
then escorted Capaci to his home. There
they found $520 tied up in small pieces of
rags,

Things were clearing up but we realized
that there was much yet to be done. For
with each man accusing the other, there

-remained that all-important question.

“Who was the murderer?”

On Monday both were formally
charged with murder in the Gretna Dis-
trict Court. On Wednesday they were
arraigned and February 13 set as the date
for their trial. Fred A. Middleton repre-
sented Dallao and Warren Simon repre-
sented Capaci.

On Thursday, February 9, Judge Rob-
ert L. Rivarde announced that the con-
fessed killers would be tried separately.
The case was postponed until March.
Dallao and Capaci were moved to the
Parish prison in New Orleans.

Dallao’s trial came first.

It was March 5 and the little courtroom
in Gretna was jammed with spectators.
As the accused man walked in the crowd
leaned forward eagerly. Dallao appeared
calm and unworried. Taking his seat
next to his attorney he chatted amiably.

It was almost midnight before the panel
was completed. Court attaches sighed
with relief. And court was recessed until
the following morning,

Almost the entire day Tuesday was
given over to the hearing of state testi-
mony.

When the state closed, the courtroom
crowd leaned forward eagerly. Would
Dallao take the stand in his own defense?
Would he again blame Capaci for the
murder?

Their hopes were short lived. ‘The de-
fense called only one witness, and within
five minutes their case was complete.
Their one and only witness was the
mother of the defendant. It was an obvi-
ous attempt to win the sympathy of a
jury which would later be asked to show
mercy.

| “l Repucep

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Wuen Answerineo ADVERTISEMENTS, PLease MENTION DrcempeR STARTLING Detective ApvenTURES 67

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