Killers of the Flower Moon Page 10

  But while the agents were supposed to be keeping Blackie under close surveillance, they’d lost him in the Osage Hills. He then proceeded to rob a bank. And kill a police officer. It took months for authorities to apprehend Blackie, and, as Hoover noted, “a number of officers had to take their lives in their hands to correct this mistake.” So far, Hoover had managed to keep the bureau’s role in the affair out of the press. But behind the scenes there was a growing political uproar. The state attorney general had sent Hoover a telegram indicating that he held the bureau “responsible for failure” of the investigation. John Palmer, the tribe’s well-known advocate, sent an angry letter to Charles Curtis, the Kansas senator, insinuating that the bureau’s investigation had been tainted by corruption: “I join in the general belief that the murderers have been shrewd enough and politically and financially able enough to have honest and capable officers removed or sent to other parts, and also to quiet dishonest officials whose duty it was and is to hunt the perpetrators of these awful crimes.” Comstock, the Oklahoma lawyer who had served as the guardian to several Osage, had personally briefed Senator Curtis on the bureau’s catastrophic bungling.

  When Hoover met with White, his grip on power remained tenuous, and he was suddenly confronting the one thing that he’d done everything to avoid since becoming director: a scandal. The situation in Oklahoma, Hoover believed, was “acute and delicate.” Even a whiff of misconduct coming so soon after Teapot Dome could end his career. Only weeks earlier, he’d sent a “confidential” memo to White and other special agents, stating, “This Bureau cannot afford to have a public scandal visited upon it.”

  As White listened to Hoover, it became evident why he’d been summoned. Hoover needed White—one of his few experienced agents, one of the Cowboys—to resolve the case of the Osage murders and thereby protect Hoover’s job. “I want you,” Hoover said, to “direct the investigation.”

  He ordered White to set out for Oklahoma City and assume command of the field office there. Later, Hoover pointed out to White that because of the region’s lawlessness, the field “office is probably turning out more work than any other office in the country and, consequently, has to have in charge of it a thoroughly competent and experienced investigator and one who can handle men.” White knew that relocating to Oklahoma would be a great burden to his family. But he understood the stakes of the mission, and he told Hoover, “I am human enough and ambitious enough to want it.”

  White had no doubt what would happen if he didn’t succeed: previous agents on the case had been banished to distant outposts or cast out from the bureau entirely. Hoover had said, “There can be no excuse offered for…failure.” White was also aware that several of those who had tried to catch the killers had themselves been killed. From the moment he walked out of Hoover’s office, he was a marked man.

  9   THE UNDERCOVER COWBOYS

  After taking over the Oklahoma City field office in July 1925, White reviewed the bureau’s voluminous files on the Osage murders, which had been amassed over the previous two years. Murder cases that are not solved quickly are often never solved. Evidence dries up; memories fade. More than four years had elapsed since the killings of Anna Brown and Charles Whitehorn, and frequently the only way to crack such cases is to find an overlooked clue submerged within the original cache of records.

  The files on the murders of the Osage contained history in its rawest form: bits of data vacuumed up without any chronology or narrative, like a novel whose pages were out of order. White scoured this randomness for a hidden design. Though he was accustomed on the frontier to dealing with violent death, the brutality detailed in the reports was breathtaking. An agent wrote of the bombing of the Smiths’ house, “The two women perished instantly, their bodies being blown asunder, and pieces of their flesh being later found plastered on a house 300 feet away.” Previous agents had concentrated on the six cases that seemed most likely to be solved: the bombing deaths of Rita Smith and her husband, Bill Smith, and their servant Nettie Brookshire, and the fatal shootings of Anna Brown, Henry Roan, and Charles Whitehorn.

  White struggled to find links among all the two dozen murders, but a few things were evident: rich Osage Indians were being targeted, and three of the victims—Anna Brown, Rita Smith, and their mother, Lizzie—were blood related. Surprisingly, agents hadn’t spoken to Lizzie’s surviving daughter, Mollie Burkhart. Investigators were taught to see the world through the eyes of others. But how could White fathom what this woman had seen—from being born in a lodge on the wild prairie to being catapulted into a fortune to being terrorized as her family and other Osage were picked off one by one? The files offered few insights about Mollie’s life, mentioning only that she was ill with diabetes and had secluded herself in her house.

  A few details in the files seemed telling. Repeat killers tend to rigidly adhere to a routine, yet the Osage murders were carried out in a bewildering array of methods. There was no signature. This, along with the fact that bodies turned up in different parts of the state and country, suggested that this was not the work of a single killer. Instead, whoever was behind the crimes must have employed henchmen. The nature of the murders also gave some insight into the mastermind: the person was not an impulsive killer but a connoisseur of plots who was intelligent enough to understand toxic substances and calculating enough to carry out his diabolical vision over years.

  As White scrutinized the data in reports, one plausible story line after another seemed to cohere. But upon close inspection, the information invariably traced back to the same dubious sources: private eyes and local lawmen, whose opinions were based on little more than hearsay. Given that corruption seemed to permeate every institution in Osage County, these sources might be intentionally spreading disinformation in order to conceal the real plot. White realized that the greatest problem with the earlier investigations was not that agents had failed to uncover any leads; it was that there were too many. Agents would develop one, then simply drop it, or fail to corroborate it or to conclusively disprove it. Even when agents seemed to be moving on the right track, they had not managed to produce any evidence that would be admissible in a court of law.

  As White strove to be a modern evidence man, he had to learn many new techniques, but the most useful one was timeless: coldly, methodically separating hearsay from facts that he could prove. He didn’t want to hang a man simply because he had constructed a seductive tale. And after years of bumbling, potentially crooked investigations into the Osage murders, White needed to weed out half facts and build an indubitable narrative based on what he called an “unbroken chain of evidence.”

  White preferred to investigate his cases alone, but given the number of murders and leads to follow, he realized that he would need to assemble a team. Yet even a team wouldn’t overcome one of the main obstacles that had stymied previous investigators: the refusal of witnesses to cooperate because of prejudice, corruption, or, as an agent put it, an “almost universal fear of being ‘bumped off.’ ” So White decided that he would be the public face of the investigation, while most of the agents operated undercover.

  Hoover promised him, “I’ll assign as many men as you need.” Recognizing the limits of his college boys, Hoover had kept on the rolls a handful of other Cowboys, including White’s brother Doc. These agents were still learning scientific sleuthing, still adjusting to completing their reports on a typewriter. But White decided that these men were the only candidates who could handle such an assignment: infiltrating wild country, dealing with outlawry, shadowing suspects, going days without sleep, maintaining cover under duress, and handling deadly weapons if necessary. White began putting together a squad of Cowboys, but he didn’t include Doc: since serving in the Rangers, he and his brother had avoided being assigned to the same cases, in order to protect their family from potentially losing two members at once.

  White first recruited a former New Mexico sheriff, who, at fifty-six, became the oldest member of the team. Though reserv
ed to the point of being shy, the sheriff was adept at assuming undercover identities, having pretended to be everything from a cow rustler to a counterfeiter. White then enlisted a stocky, garrulous, and blond-haired former Texas Ranger who, according to a superior, was best suited for situations “where there is any element of danger.” In addition, White brought on an experienced deep-cover operative who looked more like an insurance salesman—perhaps because it was his former profession.

  One agent from the previous investigation, White decided, should be retained: John Burger. He had a comprehensive knowledge of the case—from the suspects to the trails of evidence—and he had developed an extensive network of informants that included many outlaws. Because Burger was already well known in Osage County, he would work openly with White. So would another agent, Frank Smith, a Texan who listed his interests thus: “Pistol and rifle practice—Big game hunting—Game fishing—Mountain climbing—Adventures—Man hunting.” In Hoover’s bureau, Smith was classified as one of “the older type of uneducated Agents.”

  Finally, White brought in the singular John Wren. A onetime spy for the revolutionary leaders in Mexico, Wren was a rarity in the bureau: an American Indian. (Quite possibly, he was the only one.) Wren was part Ute—a tribe that had flourished in what is today Colorado and Utah—and he had a twirled mustache and black eyes. He was a gifted investigator, but he’d recently washed out of the bureau for failing to file reports and meet regulations. A special agent in charge had said of him with exasperation, “He is exceedingly skilled in handling cases, and some of his work can only be described as brilliant. But of what avail are many nights and days of hard application to duty if the results are not embodied in written reports? He has all the information in his head but will not commit it to paper.” In March 1925, Hoover had reinstated Wren but only after warning him, “Unless you measure up to the standards that are now in effect in this Bureau, I will be compelled to request your resignation.” White knew that Wren would bring an essential perspective to the team. Some of the previous agents on the case, including Burger, had betrayed the kind of casual prejudice toward the Osage that was then commonplace. In a joint report, Burger and another agent had stated, “The Indians, in general, are lazy, pathetic, cowardly, dissipated,” and Burger’s colleague insisted that the only way to make “any of these dissolute, stubborn Osage Indians talk and tell what they know is to cut off their allowance…and if necessary, throw them in jail.” Such contempt had deepened the Osage’s distrust of the federal agents and hindered the investigation. But Wren, who referred to himself as one of Hoover’s “braves,” had capably handled many delicate cases on reservations.

   White’s team included a former Texas Ranger who was said to be suited for “any element of danger.” Credit 36

  White relayed to Hoover which men he wanted, and those not already assigned to the Oklahoma office received urgent orders, in code, from headquarters: “PROCEED UNDER COVER IMMEDIATELY REPORTING TO AGENT IN CHARGE TOM WHITE.” Once the team had been assembled, White grabbed his gun and set out for Osage County—another traveler in the mist.

  10   ELIMINATING THE IMPOSSIBLE

  One after the other, the strangers slipped into Osage County. The former sheriff showed up, in the guise of an elderly, quiet cattleman from Texas. Then the talkative former Texas Ranger appeared, also presenting himself as a rancher. Not long afterward, the onetime insurance salesman opened a business in downtown Fairfax, peddling bona fide policies. Finally, Agent Wren arrived as an Indian medicine man who claimed to be searching for his relatives.

  White had counseled his men to keep their covers simple so they didn’t betray themselves. The two operatives acting as cattlemen soon ingratiated themselves with William Hale, who considered them fellow Texas cowboys and who introduced them to many of the leading townsfolk. The insurance salesman dropped by the houses of various suspects, under the pretense of hawking policies. Agent Wren made his own inroads, attending tribal gatherings and gleaning information from Osage who might not otherwise talk to a white lawman. “Wren had lived among the Indians…and had gotten away with it in remarkable shape,” White told Hoover, adding that his undercover men seemed to be able to “withstand the rigor of the life.”

  It was hard for White to know where to begin the investigation. The records from the coroner’s inquest into the death of Anna Brown had mysteriously vanished. “My desk was broken into and the testimony disappeared,” the justice of the peace in Fairfax said.

  Virtually no evidence had been preserved from the various crime scenes, but in the case of Anna, the undertaker had secretly kept one object: her skull. About the size of a melon, the hollow chamber felt unnervingly light in one’s hand, air blowing through as though it were a sun-bleached shell. White examined the skull and could see the hole in the back where the bullet had entered. He concluded, as earlier investigators had, that the bullet must have come from a small-caliber gun—a .32 or perhaps a .38 pistol. He, too, noticed the oddity that there was no exit wound in the front of Anna’s skull, which meant that the bullet had lodged inside her head. The bullet would’ve been impossible to miss during the autopsy. Someone on the scene—a conspirator or even the killer—must have swiped it.

  The justice of the peace admitted that he had harbored such suspicions as well. He was pressed on the matter: Was it possible that, say, the two doctors, David and James Shoun, had taken it? “I don’t know,” he said.

  When David Shoun was questioned, he conceded that there was no exit wound, but he insisted that he and his brother had “made a diligent search” for the bullet. James Shoun protested similarly. White was convinced that somebody had altered the crime scene. But, given the number of people present during the autopsy—including the local lawmen, the undertaker, and Mathis, the Big Hill Trading Company owner—it seemed impossible to say who the culprit was.

  To separate the facts from the hearsay contained in the bureau’s case files, White settled upon a simple but elegant approach: he would methodically try to corroborate each suspect’s alibi. As Sherlock Holmes famously said, “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

  White relied upon Agent Burger to guide him through the murk of the previous federal investigation. Agent Burger had worked on the case for a year and a half, and during that time he had pursued many of the same leads as the private eyes hired by Hale and Mathis and Mollie’s family. By drawing on Agent Burger’s findings, White was able to quickly rule out many of the suspects, including Anna’s ex-husband, Oda Brown. His alibi—that he was with another woman—checked out, and it became clear that the forger who had implicated Brown had fabricated his story hoping to bargain with prosecutors for better prison conditions. Further investigation eliminated other suspects, like the ruffian oil workers who had been pinpointed by Harve Freas, the ousted sheriff.

  White then explored the rumor that Rose Osage had killed Anna because Anna had tried to seduce her boyfriend, Joe Allen. (Rose and Joe had since married.) White learned of the statement that private investigator No. 28 had obtained from the Kaw Indian woman, in which Rose had confessed to being the murderer. In a field report, an agent from the bureau observed, “It is a matter of common knowledge that Rose…was of a violent and jealous disposition.” The Fairfax town marshal also shared with agents a disturbing detail: around the time of Anna’s murder, he had found a dark stain on the backseat of Rose’s car. It looked like blood, he said.

   Agent John Burger Credit 37

  Agent Burger informed White that he had once brought Rose Osage and Joe to the sheriff’s office for questioning. The two suspects were placed in separate rooms and left to stir. When Agent Burger interrogated Rose, she insisted that she’d nothing to do with Anna’s killing. “I never had a quarrel or fight with Anna,” she stated. Agent Burger then confronted Joe, who, in the agent’s words, was “very self-contained, sullen and wicked appearing.” Another investigator had separately asked Joe
, “Were you thick with Annie?”

  “No, I was never,” he said.

  Joe gave the same alibi Rose did: on the night of May 21, 1921, they had been together in Pawnee, seventeen miles southwest of Gray Horse, and had stopped at a rooming house. The owner of the rooming house—which was one of those seething places that often reeked of sex and moonshine—supported Joe and Rose’s claims. The investigators noticed, however, that the stories told by Rose and Joe were almost verbatim, as if they had rehearsed them.

  Rose and Joe were released, and afterward Agent Burger sought the help of an informant—the bootlegger and dope peddler Kelsie Morrison, who seemed an ideal source of intelligence. He’d once been married to an Osage woman, and was close to Rose and other suspects. Before Agent Burger could recruit Morrison, though, he needed to find him: Morrison had fled Osage County after assaulting a local Prohibition officer. Burger and other agents made inquiries and learned that Morrison was in Dallas, Texas, using the alias Lloyd Miller. The agents sprang a trap. They had a registered letter sent to the P.O. box listed under Miller’s name, then they nabbed Morrison when he went to retrieve it. “We interviewed ‘Lloyd Miller’ who for about an hour denied that he was Kelsie Morrison but finally admitted that he was,” Agent Burger reported.