God Don’t Love a Liar

After fifteen-year-old Millie Atwood married Roy Plum at Cherokee, Kansas, in 1907, “domestic troubles” came quickly, and by the summer of 1908, the couple had already split. Millie’s mother and father had practically disowned her after the wedding and had moved away. Cast adrift by a faithless husband and unrelenting parents, Millie needed a lifeline. When J. G. Miller’s traveling carnival came to neighboring Weir about the first of July 1908 for a week-long stay, Millie seized the opportunity to make her own way. Traveling five miles to Weir, she hooked on with the carnival as a cook for the other employees.

As it turned out, joining the carnival proved to be the farthest thing from a lifeline for Millie Plum.

Among the carnival’s other employees was twenty-four-year-old William “Willie” Wilson. The young black man had left his Louisiana home in early 1908 to join Miller’s carnival. But working for the carnival was a lonely job. So, Wilson couldn’t help but notice when the pretty sixteen-year-old “girl-woman” joined the circus at Weir.

About the 5th of July, the carnival moved from Weir to Carl Junction, Missouri, for another week-long run. The engagement ended Saturday, July 11, and late that night Wilson, according to later evidence, slipped into the car where Millie slept with the intent of “doing business with her.” When she refused his advances and sprang up in bed, he slugged her or choked her into unconsciousness. Presuming she was dead, he looped a rope around her neck, and dragged her to the side door of the car. He then carried her toward an empty Frisco box car that sat on the tracks about two hundred yards away. Halfway there, he grew tired, and when he laid her down, he noticed that she was still breathing faintly. Using the rope around her neck, he dragged her the rest of the way to the box car. If she wasn’t dead at first, she was by the time he got through dragging her.

Wilson intended to put Millie’s body in the box car to hide it, but he was too exhausted to lift it into the car. He also heard stirring inside the box car and realized it wasn’t vacant. Abandoning his plan to hide the body, he quickly retreated to the carnival equipment car, where he had his sleeping quarters.

Millie’s body was discovered about 1:45 a.m. on Sunday morning, July 12, just an hour and a half after the attack. Fresh tracks of a man in sock feet were found leading back to the equipment car, and the size and shape of the footprints fit Wilson’s feet. Wilson denied any knowledge of the crime, but he was arrested and taken to the calaboose in Carl Junction for interrogation. Under grilling and prodding, Wilson broke down and gave what was described as a half confession-half denial. He admitted going into Millie’s car, but he said that she so resented his proposition that she came at him with a butcher knife. He knocked her down in self-defense and ran out of the car, but she sprang up, chased after him, and came at him with the knife again. He then knocked her unconscious and, thinking she was dead, carried and dragged her to the Frisco box car.

After his quasi-confession, Wilson was taken after daylight Sunday to the Jasper County Jail at Carthage on a murder charge. Here he was again interrogated, and late Sunday afternoon, he gave a fuller confession. Wilson admitted that Millie did not come at him with a butcher knife and did not strike or cut him. Authorities felt Wilson was now largely telling the truth.

Large crowds attended Wilson’s two-day trial for first-degree murder in mid-December 1905, and “sentiment was very strong against the Negro,” according to the Webb City Register. Arguing for the death penalty, the state relied on the officers to whom Wilson had allegedly confessed as its primary witnesses. Wilson, the only defense witness, took the stand to deny that he killed Millie Plum or that he had ever confessed.

Unconvinced by Wilson’s denial, the jury came back on December 18 with a guilty verdict and a sentence of death by hanging. A defense appeal to the Missouri Supreme Court automatically stayed the execution. The defense contended Wilson’s confession had been given under duress, but the high court, in its November 1909 ruling, allowed the confession and upheld the lower court’s verdict. The new execution date was set for January 12, 1910. Wilson received the news with the same careless, jovial attitude that had won him many friends among the prisoners at the Japser County jail during the year and a half he’d  been incarcerated.

A number of people lobbied for leniency on behalf of the condemned prisoner, and and the Missouri governor issued two stays before Wilson’s execution date was finally set for March 4, 1910. The condemned man spent his last evening chatting with his jail mates, praying, and singing until 2:00 a.m. on the morning of March 4, 1910. Sometime during the evening or night, Wilson reportedly made a final confession to two ministers who had been serving as his spiritual advisors. “The real facts of the case,” he said, “are that I am perfectly guilty.” He said he wanted to go to heaven and he knew “God don’t love a liar.” He asked that a copy of his confession be sent to his mother in Louisiana because he wanted her to know that he told the whole truth. Wilson was hanged outside the jail on the courthouse grounds in Carthage the next morning at shortly before 6:00 a.m.  He was buried in a potter’s field south of Carthage.

This blog entry is condensed from a chapter in my latest book, Midnight Assassinations and Other Evildoings: A Criminal History of Jasper County, Mo.

Joplin Night Watchman Killed Over a Woman

Joplin night watchman Ben Collier had an eye for younger women. After his first wife died, he remarried in Jasper County to a girl named Birdie in 1898, when she was still a teenager and he was almost fifty years old. Birdie left the old codger after a few years, though, and absconded to Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Not to worry. It wasn’t long before Collier set his sights on another young woman, thirty-year-old Rose Proctor. Rose, “a small and pretty blonde,” had first married when she was sixteen, but she got divorced after a few years. She married Ben Proctor in 1902, but her second marriage didn’t take either, and she separated from Proctor in late 1905. Afterward, she and an unmarried sister took rooms at 1216 Main Street in Joplin. Collier had known Rose since she was a girl, and his job guarding stores along Main at night let him see her on a regular basis. In the spring and summer of 1906, he started spending time with her and became lovestruck.

But Ben Collier wasn’t the only man attracted to Rose. Twenty-three-year-old Will “Rabbit” Cofer had known Rose since he was a boy growing up in Joplin, where his father, Tom Cofer, served as chief of police. His folks moved away in 1905, but Rabbit stayed in Joplin and was hired as a policeman himself. He spent most of his first year as a beat cop along Main Street, where he renewed his acquaintance with Rose Proctor. Rabbit was married with a five-year-old son at home, but that didn’t stop him from spending time with Rose. In fact, the rooms at 1216 Main where Rose and several other young women lived became somewhat notorious as “a rendezvous for policemen.”

Recently Rabbit had been promoted to day captain, but he still found time for Rose. In mid-August 1906, Rose attempted suicide, reportedly because she was despondent over her separation from her husband. Rabbit took a special interest in his old friend after that, consoling her and assisting in her recovery. But Ben Collier suspected there was more than just friendship between the two. He was jealous of the attention Cofer was paying Rose and protested her relationship with the young police captain.

But Collier’s jealousy didn’t faze Rose Proctor and Will Cofer. Rabbit often took Rose to the wine room of the Mascot Saloon at 926 Main, and on Wednesday, August 29, he even escorted her to Carthage.

Collier saw Rose and Rabbit together as they were leaving for Carthage. The next morning he showed up at Rose’s rooms and threatened to kill both her and Cofer if she didn’t stop seeing Rabbit.

Early Friday morning, September 7, Collier renewed his threats toward Cofer, saying he planned to get Cofer before night

Apparently Rabbit didn’t get the warning, or if he did, it didn’t scare him. He spent most of Friday afternoon with Rose, and they went to the Mascot about 7:30.

Meanwhile, Ben Collier was on the prowl. He showed up about 8:00 p.m. at Rose’s rooming house in the 1200 block of Main, and learning that Rose was with Cofer, he sowre to kill the other man.

About 9:30, Collier stomped into the Mascot Saloon just as Cofer and Rose were leaving.  Cofer had started out a back door when he heard Collier and Rose arguing. He came back in and told Rose he would take her home. Collier immediately turned his ire toward Rabbit and drew his pistol. Cofer made a rush toward Collier and grabbed his arm before he could shoot. The bartender also grabbed Collier’s arm. While holding Collier with one hand, Cofer drew his own pistol and began shooting. Two shots were misfires, but three bullets slammed into Collier’s body. Collier toppled into a nearby slop bucket and died almost instantly.

Cofer and Rose were both taken into custody, but they were released the next day when a coroner’s jury declared that Cofer had shot Collier in self-defense. However, the incident had caused a rift in the police department and the city in general, and Cofer turned in his badge later the same day.

Not long after leaving the Joplin Police, Cofer and his wife moved to Oregon. Later the wife died or separated from him, and he remarried a woman named Rose, but she was not the same Rose he had killed a man over back in Joplin, Missouri.

The Killing of Joplin Policeman Claude Brice

In the wee hours of December 31, 1904, shots rang out near Broadway and Main in Joplin, and those who rushed to the scene found city policeman Claude Brice lying dead in the intersection with two or three bullets to his body. A coroner’s jury on January 4, 1905, developed “nothing of importance” in the case, but a web was “being weaved slowly but surely around Ted Daly,” a Joplin man who was among several people jailed on suspicion.

Over the next two months, authorities identified Estel Butler, John Franklin, and George Rogers as other primary suspects in the killing of Officer Brice. Daly had hung around long enough to get himself arrested, but the other three had absconded to parts unknown.

Butler was captured in Louisiana in late February and brought back to Joplin. Known as “Foot and a Half” because the front part of his right foot was split, Butler said he didn’t kill Brice but knew who did. Originally from Kansas City, he had served terms in both the Kansas State Penitentiary and the Missouri State Penitentiary and was considered a notorious criminal.

In March, Franklin was brought back to Joplin from Iowa. However, George Rogers, the fourth suspect, could not be located.

Teddy Daly was the first suspect to go on trial, in mid-May 1905. Butler was the star state witness, claiming that Brice was shot dead when he approached Daly and Franklin. Daly, on the other hand, admitted being in the vicinity but said he did not shoot Brice. The fact that he’d originally denied even being in the area weighed against him, and he was convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to forty years in prison.

Daly had been reluctant testify at his own trial, but after he was convicted, he said he meant to take a few others with him. At Franklin’s trial in late May, Daly took the stand to admit that he, Butler, Franklin, and Rogers were planning to rob a drug store on Main the night Brice was killed. Daly himself was a couple of blocks away when Brice was shot, but Franklin had told him Butler was the one who pulled the trigger.  

Butler also testified for the state, repeating essentially what he’d said at Daly’s trial. On May 23, the jury returned a verdict finding Franklin guilty of second-degree murder and sentencing him to 99 years in prison.

When Butler went on trial in October, both Daly and Franklin were brought back from the penitentiary to testify against him. Butler had ratted them out, and now they planned to return the favor. Daly’s most damning testimony against Butler was that he heard the shots that killed Officer Brice while he was a couple of blocks away and, as he started south toward the sound, he met Butler coming the other direction carrying a revolver. Daly also said that Butler had at first admitted killing Brice but had later tried to blame Franklin.

Franklin’s testimony was even more damning, because, unlike Daly, he admitted being near the scene. Brice, he said, halted Rogers and Butler in the intersection and was in the process of arresting them when Rogers whipped out a pistol and fired two or three shots that either missed their mark or only wounded the officer. As Brice started to draw his weapon, Butler, who was even closer to the officer than Rogers, fired a couple of more shots that brought Brice down.

The defense strategy was mainly to impugn the testimony of the state’s star witnesses. Franklin and Daly both admitted their testimony during Butler’s trial was different from what they’d said at their own trials, but they insisted they were now telling the truth, since they had nothing to lose.

Many observers thought Butler might be acquitted or get off lightly. Not only might the jury not give much credence to the testimony of two convicted killers, but Butler, despite his reputation as an habitual criminal, had a winning personality. Women, in particular, seemed drawn to him. The jury, however, returned a verdict of second-degree murder and assessed a term of forty years in the penitentiary.  

After Butler’s trial, the county prosecutor announced he wouldn’t pursure charges against George Rogers since Daly and Franklin refused to testify against him. Daly and Franklin were returned to Jefferson City, but Butler was granted a new trial in mid-November before he could join them.

Butler’s second trial took place in January 1906. Again, Daly and Franklin were brought to Joplin from the state prison to testify. Late on the night of January 16, after the jury had retired to deliberate Butler’s fate, Butler, Daly, and Franklin were transported to Carthage because the Joplin city jail was insecure. In Carthage, the prisoners were separated because Butler had gotten into a fight with the other two men during the trip. The sheriff started toward the county jail with Butler, while Daly and Franklin took a different route, accompanied by a deputy. Near the jail door, Daly and Franklin made a break for it, escaped, and were never recaptured. George Rogers was also never apprehended.

The jury found Butler guilty the next day, and he was sentenced to fifty-five years in prison, fifteen more than he’d been assessed at his first trial. He was released after only about twelve years, though, and went on to resume a life of crime.
Sketch of Butler from Joplin Globe. This blog entry is condensed from a chapter in my book Midnight Assassinations and Other Evildoings: A Criminal History of Jasper County, Mo.