Deadly Hero: The High Society Murder that Created Hysteria in the Heartland

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Deadly Hero: The High Society Murder that Created Hysteria in the Heartland Page 15

by Morrow, Jason Lucky


  With pumped-up outrage and ambiguity, Anderson claimed, “We are not, at this time, going to make full public disclosure of these ‘tampering’ movements. We are not mistaken and neither is Huff. We are positive that overtures have been made to Huff, who promptly refused to have anything do with this lawyer.”

  In his next statement, Anderson contradicted himself within two sentences. “We have not yet learned the reactions of these other two witnesses. We are not indulging in any guesswork and won’t stand for any more nonsense of this sort. If this doesn’t stop immediately, someone is going to be arrested and prosecuted.”

  Like Maddux, King, and Hoop before him, Anderson had thrown gasoline on the fire of public perception of the defense. New excitement was injected into the local gossip.

  As inflammatory as it was, there were problems with his statement. The incident with Huff took place before the preliminary hearing and was no incident at all. Two unidentified attorneys from Tulsa, working for the defense, traveled to Kansas City to interview Huff about his time with Kennamer. A Kansas City paper falsely reported that Huff claimed the two men asked him to change his testimony. When Anderson questioned him about it after the preliminary hearing, Huff said it wasn’t true, and that the men talked with him about his upcoming testimony, but had not asked him to change it. The conversation was short. “Huff says he did not talk with them long enough to give them any information,” Anderson said after the December 17 hearing to reporters.

  Fast-forward one month, and Anderson used that incident as the basis for his witness-tampering allegation. He also refused to name the other two individuals, and oddly claimed that although there was no guesswork about it, he didn’t know the reactions of these two other witnesses to the alleged tampering.

  Naturally, reporters ran to Moss to get his reaction, and he immediately backed Anderson into a corner with a challenge to prosecute.

  “I don’t want any mystery in this case,” Moss declared. “If anyone has approached Huff [to change his testimony] that person was guilty of a crime and I challenge Anderson to arrest him and prosecute him.”

  He then dared Anderson to name the other two witnesses. The following day, Anderson’s published reply to Moss was to name Sgt. Maddux and Robert Thomas, and he repeated his threat to prosecute.

  “So that’s it?” Moss replied when he heard about it. “Mr. Anderson’s conduct in this case is wretched and contemptible.” The purported bribe-offer claim by Sgt. Maddux, and the violence he alluded to, was a pot that hadn’t yet boiled over. Naming Robert Thomas as the other witness was just an outright lie, Moss declared. He wasn’t “tampering” with Robert Thomas, he had hired the young man to act as a liaison between the defense team and Phil’s friends who didn’t want to get involved.

  “Two days before I hired Thomas I went to Anderson and told him I wanted to employ the boy to talk to young witnesses and bring them to my office,” Moss told reporters in his law office. “I suggested to Anderson that we have him make a sworn statement with each side retaining a copy.

  “So I subsequently employed Thomas at $4 per diem to check witnesses. But before I employed him, I took a sworn statement from him, wrote Anderson a letter explaining the situation, and had Thomas deliver them in person to Anderson.

  “Thomas stood in Anderson’s office while the county attorney read them and when Anderson said ‘All right,’ Thomas left.”

  For Moss, who had endured hyperbolic proclamations and embellishments from Maddux, King, Hoop, and now Anderson, as well as yellow journalism, one-sided editorials, and an entire city that was trying to connect the Gorrell slaying with marijuana, naked pictures, bootleg liquor, marble machines, and illegal gambling, the witness-tampering nonsense was the last straw. He was furious, and determined to push back the tide. Tulsa would soon learn why he was the city’s number one defense attorney.

  As Moss retreated into a huddle with his team over the weekend, Anderson carried on. He’d already mailed out subpoenas to twenty witnesses in the case, and after his tampering accusations, certified a list for twenty-three more. The names on his first list had been published, and he announced his intention to question them all to learn if they had been “approached.” When it came to his second list of twenty-three, Anderson was keeping his mouth shut in some kind of noble effort to secure them from the evil defense team. With ten days to trial, his office sent jury notifications to one hundred fifty residents to serve as jurors in the upcoming district-court session. Twelve of them would go to the Kennamer case.

  Even with all the local and national interest in the story, Anderson did not see what was coming next. Flint Moss’s announcement on Monday, January 21, that the defense would file a change-of-venue motion the following day, was explosive. If the motion were granted, it would not only move the trial to Pawnee, it would also delay it, since jury notices had not gone out yet for their term of district court. The announcement also upset thousands of Tulsa County residents aiming to get a courtroom seat for the most important trial in city history. Pawnee was sixty miles away, and the locals there would get the best seats. Although it would change everything, the motion had to be considered. To settle the issue, Judge Hurst scheduled the venue hearing for Thursday, January 24.

  Long before the motion, Moss had privately told reporters he would not seek a change of venue. But when the Maddux bribery story came out, again, followed by the fictitious witness-tampering allegation by Anderson, all bets were off. The defense motion filed the next day was a two-pronged attack against both Tulsa newspapers and the prosecution’s team, including Anderson, King, Hoop, and Maddux, who were all specifically named and subpoenaed to testify.

  “There has been undue publicity in this case and the defense doesn’t think a fair trial can be obtained in Tulsa County,” Moss told reporters outside the courthouse the morning he announced he would seek the venue change. “We think newspaper editorials have been unfair to our client. Equally unfair have been the statements of the county attorney that state witnesses have been tampered with.”

  In his motion, Moss specifically attacked editorials in both newspapers that belittled the testimony of so-called expert witnesses—especially psychiatrists. He also argued that both papers published “pretended statements of facts, which are false and untrue, which resulted in arousing in the minds of all qualified jurors of Tulsa County feelings of prejudice against the defendant.”

  Farther on, he left no doubt which officials were behind those pretended statements of fact when the petition named Anderson—for his false witness-tampering allegations, Maddux—for his dubious bribe story and for claiming Kennamer telephoned Born the morning of his suicide, and Oscar Hoop—for talking about the bribe and physical threats during a meeting of city commissioners.

  Submitted as evidence were all local newspaper articles on the case, including those issues which publicized false allegations against the defense, and editorials and columns from both papers. When they discussed the bribe-and-threat claim with reporters, Moss and Hoop gallantly declared that in case of their demise, the investigative file and affidavits that would lead others to the man who made the offer were locked away safely. Justice would carry on, with or without these heroic men.

  Moss subpoenaed those documents as well. It was time to put up or shut up.

  “This bribe story has been talked around so much that we are going to bring it out in the open,” Moss said. “It will be part of our proof that Kennamer should be granted a change of venue.”

  And just for good measure, Moss subpoenaed forty other witnesses from all over the county, and from all walks of life, who would testify that Kennamer, in their opinion, could not receive a fair trial. His subpoena list also included the circulation managers from both newspapers, with cause to show how circulation increased during its coverage of the case.

  Anderson’s reaction was to claim he was at a loss to explain the defense’s move, and their true motive was to stall for a postponement. As for him, he truly could
not understand how Moss came to his conclusion. He grumbled that he had already subpoenaed forty-three witnesses and sent out jury notices, and that moving the trial would cost the county more money. He was stunned that Moss would try to put him on the stand, and he vowed to fight back, arguing there was no law that allowed the defense to subpoena prosecution documents in a change-of-venue motion.

  “We will oppose rigidly the introduction of the bribe testimony,” Anderson said. The contention for his argument, which came from commissioner Hoop, was that those documents were “personal property,” and were now, somehow, not part of the investigation. Facing the possibility that those documents could be presented in court, Hoop minimized the bribe-and-threat story to reporters, and backpedaled on his earlier claims.

  “The bribe attempt directed at Sgt. Maddux involved one phase of the Gorrell slaying investigation, and has but an indirect bearing on the Kennamer case as a whole,” Hoop said the day before the hearing. “I may go so far as to have the affidavits with me in person tomorrow, but I will combat with every resource any effort made by Kennamer’s attorneys to make me produce them in court.”

  Although he never shied away from making a statement to the press in December, Maddux suddenly stopped talking. If Moss got his way in the hearing, he would have to reveal everything.

  Even with his two-pronged attack and his thorough list of county citizens ready to testify in support of his argument, Moss was leaving nothing to chance. But his greatest weapon was legal precedent. When ex-convict Earl Quinn brutally raped and murdered the Griffith sisters, Zexie and Jesse, a few days after Christmas 1930 in Kay County, the local community was outraged. The girls were beautiful, popular, and successful. They were the daughters of a Blackwell police captain and had everything going for them. After he was captured the following year, Quinn was tried in Kay County and sentenced to death, the first death sentence in that county’s history. His lawyer argued successfully to set aside his conviction on the grounds that the defendant could not have obtained a fair trial because of local sentiment, and a change of venue was required. Quinn then received a new trial in nearby Garfield County, where he was again sentenced to death.

  Thursday’s hearing opened with a long parade of defense witnesses expressing their opinion that, for one reason or another, it was impossible for Kennamer to receive a fair trial in Tulsa County. It was a day that started out civilly, but would end with yelling, jibes, soaring tempers, and snarky facial expressions. As faithfully as always, Dr. Gorrell was in the courtroom. Kennamer, this time, was supported by his two sisters.

  Among the first from Moss’s long list to be called up were six attorneys, including a former county attorney, who all testified that in their opinion, Kennamer could not receive a fair trial in Tulsa due to the publicity, and because it was all locals could talk about.

  Added to this group of witnesses was former district judge Saul Yager, who was wandering around the courthouse that day when he casually stepped into Judge Hurst’s courtroom during the venue hearing to see what was going on. He was just about to leave when Moss spontaneously called him to the stand. His statement turned out to be one of the strongest in defense of Moss’s argument.

  “The air in Tulsa is permeated with the Kennamer case,” Judge Yager told the court. “Everyone talks about it. The many people I’ve discussed it with would not make fair and impartial jurors.”

  A former Tulsa Mayor, a banker, an oil operator, and a shoe cobbler testified that most of the people they talked to had fixed opinions one way or the other. They were followed by a movie theater operator from nearby Broken Arrow, whom Moss asked if he had ever talked to anyone who did not have a fixed opinion of the case.

  “No, I haven’t,” he answered.

  “Were you promised any compensation for coming here?” Anderson asked next.

  “Yeah! He was offered twenty-five thousand bucks!” Moss interrupted as he roared with laughter.

  And so it went on. Following the afternoon recess, Moss’s parade of witnesses was relentless and continued with a mechanic, a barber, a grocer, and an insurance man, all backing his argument. Charles Parker from Sand Springs testified that the case was the most frequent topic of conversation at Rotary Club meetings. “Two or more people cannot meet or have not met in Tulsa County since this happened without discussing the situation,” he told the court.

  After more than thirty defense witnesses had made similar statements, Judge Hurst got the point and halted the defense’s line of attack, saying it was needlessly repetitive.

  Moss then began a new offensive directed at the state’s bribery claim. His subordinate, Herman Young, read into the record newspaper articles from the Tulsa World that quoted King, Hoop, Maddux, and Anderson, to the effect that a $25,000 bribe had been offered to the detective.

  First up to the stand was King. “Are you the Mr. King referred to in these articles?” Moss asked.

  “I may be but I cannot be held responsible or accountable for what appears about me in Tulsa newspapers,” King responded.

  “I wish you would then relate to the court something about this bribe offer.”

  And with that, Anderson objected on the grounds it was immaterial and irrelevant to the issue now before the court. Although it was sustained, King answered anyway. “At the proper time and at the proper trial we will prove the bribery offer.”

  “I don’t believe that!” Moss shouted.

  “We’re not interested in whether you believe it or not but we’ll prove it at the right time,” King retorted.

  “I challenge you to prove that because I don’t believe you,” Moss threw back, which was then followed by a rap of the gavel from the judge.

  Sergeant Maddux was called up next, but Moss could only get as far as “Who offered you a $25,000 bribe?” before Judge Hurst sustained Anderson’s objection. As Maddux stepped down, Moss challenged him, “I don’t believe there was any offer.” His remark was answered with a cocky smile.

  Moss got about the same distance with Commissioner Hoop, and when he was being excused, the frustrated attorney blurted out, “Was anyone offered a bribe?”

  This time, both King and Anderson roared in objection, which initiated a fierce round of bickering before everyone could settle down. Having made his point through the back door, Moss rested. Anderson then questioned seven witnesses and presented thirty-one affidavits asserting the belief that Kennamer could receive a fair trial in Tulsa County.

  But in the end, it wasn’t the witnesses or affidavits or circulation figures or the bribe story; it was the appellate court decision that gave Judge Hurst the foundation for his decision.

  “In view of that decision [the Quinn decision], my judgment is that if I denied a change of venue in this case, there would probably be a reversal,” Hurst told the attorneys. “Basing my judgment on the evidence submitted, I think it will be very difficult to get a fair jury here and in this case.”

  The State of Oklahoma v. Philip Kennamer would begin in Pawnee in nineteen days.

  Chapter Fifteen

  GETTING THE TRIAL MOVED TO Pawnee was just one part of the defense’s pre-trial strategy. Two days later, the infamous extortion note was shown to Tribune reporter Harmon Phillips. Now it was Moss’s turn to use the press to sway the jury pool over to defense claims in a one-sided interview. With a straight face, Moss told the reporter he was releasing the contents “to definitely inform the state prosecutors that there is such a note.”

  They already knew that.

  Admittedly, he would not allow a photostatic copy of the note to be made because he didn’t want the prosecution to examine it with their own expert witnesses. If the jury was going to hear from a handwriting expert, it was going to be his handwriting expert. Phillips could copy the contents and describe its physical appearance, but that was it.

  The letter was written on two pages of inexpensive, ruled paper concealed in an unstamped envelope addressed to H. F. Wilcox, 1351 East 27th Place, Tulsa, Okla. In the l
ower left corner was written “Personal,” and “Air Mail,” underlined twice, was written on the right side.

  Dear Sir: You will secure $20,000 (twenty thousand dollars) in bills of the following amounts—ten thousand in $5 (five) dollar bills, five thousand in $10 (ten) dollar bills, and five thousand in one dollar bills. You will be given further instructions at later either by phone or mail by an operator who will identify himself by the Symbol at the close of this letter. Failure to comply with our demands will result in certain and painful “DEATH” for one or more of your children.

  Keep the said sum in your immediate house, for a moment’s notice.

  You must secure the money, not later than Friday noon. You will keep the money on hand, so that if you are notified in two days or two weeks, you will save us lots of trouble, and yourself lots of misery.

  Yours in expectation—

  John Doe.

  Symbol-This is H.F.W. speaking

  Strict silence, even in your family, must be observed.

  In the same article, defense experts matched the note to Gorrell by comparing it with known samples of his handwriting, and observing how the tails of his y’s and g’s appeared to come straight down. Moss then tried to establish a connection with how the note was signed, “John Doe,” to John Gorrell’s first name, as well as the D, which looked like a G that had been scribbled over.

  Gorrell’s father continued to tell reporters his son was killed because he refused to participate in Kennamer’s plot, and he would not say John wrote the note until he saw it for himself. But Anderson didn’t even want to see it, and he downplayed its importance. “It is their duty to deliver the note to us if it is essential to the state’s case,” he told reporters.

 

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