The First Murder Trial - Grady County, Oklahoma Submitted by: Sandi Carter 29 Sep 2004 Return to Grady County Archives: http://www.usgwarchives.net/ok/grady/grady.html ========================================================================== USGENWEB NOTICE Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm ========================================================================== The Daily Oklahoman Sunday, December 20, 1936 THE FIRST MURDER TRIAL By Clarence B. Douglas The court room of the United States court for the southern district of Indian Territory, sitting at Ardmore, was tense with suppressed excitement that warm summer day in 1896. On the bench sat Judge C. B. Killgore, formerly a famous Texas congressman appointed by his friend, President Grover Cleveland. At one table sat United States Attorney A. C. Cruse and his assistant, while nearby at a table piled high with law books was Judge Henry M. Furman, the foremost criminal lawyer of Texas, recently moved to Ardmore; Robert W. Dick and W. H. L. Campbell. Within the railing, waiting, sat a small young man, part Chickasaw, part white, just out of his teens and near him one lone woman with anxious tear-stained face. By her side was Judge Overton Love, wealthy Chickasaw, owner of Love's valley, now a part of Love county. Scattered through the tense audience which filled the courtroom to capacity were deputy United States marshals fully armed and ready for any emergency. At the clerk's desk was Joseph W. Phillips and a deputy, and to the right of the judge's bench 12 empty chairs told of a jury now deliberating with a man's life in the balance. Suddenly and seemingly with a loud noise, the main doors of the room are pushed open and, led by a deputy marshal, 12 solemn-faced men slowly entered and stalked to the seats they had occupied for almost a week, then Judge Killgore broke the spell and said: "Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" "We have, your honor," replied the foreman in a low tone. "Pass it to the clerk, please," said the judge, and added, "Mr. Clerk, you will read the verdict. The defendant will rise." Mr. Phillips read slowly but distinctly, "We of the jury, find the defendant guilty as charged in the indictment and fix the penalty at death." A deathly still, broken only by a sobbing woman, a stately, venerable Indian removing his glasses and wiping his eyes, the scuffling of feet and chairs, and then the judge again speaking. "Is this your unanimous verdict, gentlemen?" A reply from each, "It is." The jury was then thanked and discharged, the prisoner remanded to the custody of the United States marshal, the court adjourned, and the first murder trial in a United States court in Indian Territory was over. * * * * * * * * * * On a cattle ranch in the western portion of the Chickasaw Nation, and extending miles west into a No Man's Land, Wyatt Williams, the cattle king of Gainesville, Texas, was lord of all he surveyed. With several thousand head of cattle knee deep in the rich grasses, putting on flesh daily, a rollicking reckless bunch of Texas cowpunchers riding the range and obeying his slightest wish, it came to him as a distinct shock when Bud Watkins, son of an intermarried white settler and a Chickasaw Indian woman, small of stature, just out of his teens, and newly recruited to the Williams cow camp, flatly disagreed with him over some trivial matter and even disputed his word. "Little Bud" was soon reminded by other cowboys that he was in bad with the big boss and anything might happen to him. He had spent his life in the saddle and firearms were his toys since childhood. A good rider and roper, he knew his job as a cowpuncher and loved it with the love of a real outdoor man, but acting on friendly advice, he saddled his favorite mount and rode east into Ardmore to avoid further trouble. There he rented a little shack fronting on what was to become Main Street and opened for business "Bud's Chili Joint." Here he sold chili, hot tamales, smoking tobacco and soft drinks in bottles. His place was an all-night "joint" and he took the night shift which was the busiest of the 24-hour period. On a certain night or early morning, Bud was behind the counter when in walked Wyatt Williams and some cowboys from the West Side ranch. Watkins was a small man about five feet seven, weighing perhaps 120 pounds. Williams stood well over six feet tall, was well built and very strong. Williams walked up to the counter and said something to Watkins in a low voice which Bud replied in an excited voice. * * * * * * * * * * When both men went into action. Williams was armed with a .45 six-shooter in a shoulder scabbard, which swung under his left armpit. Watkins had a similar weapon lying on the work shelf of the counter where it was a regular part of his fixtures. Williams's gun hung for an instant in his clothing and that split second cost him his life. Watkins, grabbing his gun, raised it to the level of the counter and almost touching Williams's body with the muzzle, fired. Williams, gun in hand now and at half cock, dropped to the floor dead, holding his six-shooter in his right hand, his thumb still on the hammer he had not had time to pull into a firing position. The "night owls" and other visitors rushed from the room and Bud, taking the money from the cash box, left by the back door, gun in hand, expecting every moment to be shot by some of Williams's ranch hands. The United States marshal's office was soon advised of the killing and the deputies, Dave Booker, who led the posse which had killed Bill Dalton, and Lon Pulliam were told to get Watkins, dead or alive. Both men knew Bud and knew he would probably shoot it out with them if and when they met but they arranged to take up the trail at once and follow it to the end. News of events such as this travels fast even in the night and Charley D. Carter, later and for 20 years a congressman from the Ardmore district, was told of the tragedy. Carter, part Chickasaw and remotely related to Watkin's dead mother, and a good friend of Bud's, hastily saddled a horse and rode rapidly for the marshal's office. There he found Booker and Pulliam ready to mount and ride. He told them of his interest in Bud, and that he did not want him killed. He also told them that Bud would fight to the death and might kill one or more officers and that must be avoided if possible. * * * * * * * * * * "What do you propose, Charley?" asked Booker. "We are your friends and have nothing personal against Bud. What do you propose?" Then Carter said, "Ill go with you. I believe I know where to find him. If we meet him promise me not to begin shooting until I have had a chance to call to him so that he will know me and then to try to prevail on him to surrender without a gun battle." "Ok," said Booker, "provided he doesn't begin trying to shoot Lon and me up a lot." With this agreement the three mounted and rode into the night under Carter's direction toward the home of a relative of Watkins. Watkins had walked to the barn lot of his relative through the darkness, saddled a good horse, mounted and in a long lope started for Love's valley on the Red river. Just at dawn the officers and Carter heard the thud of a horse's hoofs coming down the trail toward them. Quickly Booker and Pulliam took opposite sides of the trail, Winchesters at "ready" and Carter rode toward the approaching Watkins and called him, "Bud, this is Charley Carter. Put up your gun. I'm your friend and trying to help you." Bud pulled his horse to his haunches and, six-shooter in hand, said, "What do you want?" Carter, riding up to him, said, "Bud, Dave Booker and Lon Pulliam are after you. They've got you covered now with their Winchesters less than 30 yards away. They don't want to kill you unless they have to. I don't want to see you killed, or kill either of them. They are going to take you, dead or alive, and it's up to you to say which. Now give me your gun and surrender." To this Bud answered with an oath and said, "So you say you are my friend? Well, hell is full of such friends." * * * * * * * * * * Carter told Bud he had no chance to escape and not a Chinaman's chance in a fight. Reaching out, he took Bud's gun from his unresisting hand. Booker and Pulliam then rode up and expressed their pleasure that Bud has surrendered without a fight. Bud told them he was afraid the Williams cowboys would murder him and that was the reason he was trying to leave the country. Carter and the officers assured him he would not be attacked and if he was they would stay with him in the fight, and give him back Bud's gun and with that understanding, they rode into Ardmore and Bud was put into the United States stockade where he was to pass almost six years. Later Bud told me he knew Carter had saved his life and that if he had fought it out, as he had resolved to do with Booker and Pulliam, both of whom were dead shots, he might have got one of them but not both and that Carter had done him the greatest favor of his life. Within a short time Watkins was indicted and rushed into trial, the law extending the jurisdiction of the United States courts in Indian Territory to cover homicide having only recently been enacted. The general sentiment was that Watkins had a good case of self-defense and would be acquitted, especially as his relatives had employed the eminent criminal lawyers, Henry Furman and Dick and Campbell to defend him. The trial lasted several days. Furman, the experienced trial lawyer in criminal cases filled the record with exceptions while Cruce, a great civil law authority, knew little of the twists, turns and shrewd practices of great criminal cases. Following the testimony and the addresses to the jury of Assistant United States Attorney Campbell, Dick, and the masterful Furman, everyone in the courtroom expected an early acquittal. And then came A. C. Cruce, the elder brother of Lee Cruce, second governor of Oklahoma, and for years a member of the Firm of Johnson and Cruce. A. C. Cruce was a man of majestic bearing. * * * * * * * * * * He was famous as a trial lawyer in civil suits and was without equal in the southwest as an orator before a jury. When Judge Furman had finished his forceful and eloquent argument, Cruce slowly rose, bowed to the judge, and began "If the court please," then faced the 12 men in the jury box, he walked up and down the railing in front of them a couple of times and said, "and you, gentlemen of the jury, this is the most solemn moment of my life, a moment I have a duty to discharge, a duty I have taken an oath to perform, and that duty I will perform though the heavens fall. Judge Furman has built his defense around the charges of His Honor, the judge, to the jury. He has read, re-read and interpreted those charges in his own way and for his own purpose. Gentlemen of the jury, if I do not convince you that he has read into these charges interpretations not contained therein or contemplated thereby, I'll quit this courtroom and so help me God, I'll never enter it again." With this one sentence the whole situation changed like magic. Furman's masterly defense as well as that of Dick and Campbell was brushed aside. Nothing was now left of any part of that trial so far as the jurors were concerned or interested but Cruce and his argument. In what was probably the most powerful and eloquent address ever delivered in the territories or this state, he continued for more than two hours and when he closed and the jury retired to consider the verdict, everyone in the courtroom remained seated, feeling sure a quick verdict of "guilty" would be returned and in this they were correct. The giants of the bar, Cruce and Furman, had met. Watkins was lost sight of and almost forgotten in the brilliant finish of the trial, and Cruce won his most famous legal victory and Watkins was soon sentenced to be hanged. Furman had packed the records full of errors, appealed the case, and it was reversed and a new trial ordered * * * * * * * * * * Almost three years later the case was again tried by United States Judge John R. Thomas at Pauls Valley on change of venue. There Watkins had the moral support of Sam Garvin, after whom Garvin county was named, and other influential citizens but again Cruce secured a conviction but with a recommrndation of a life sentence for Watkins. Again Furman reversed the lower court on errors and exercising the right of all Indian defendants in a homicide case to change the venue to Paris, Texas or Fort Smith. Furman took a change of venue to Paris and the case was put on the docket for the January term, 1901. For almost five years Watkins was kept in the United States jails, and when he was transferred to a real United States jail at Paris, he thought it a great improvement on territory bastilles. I had early become convinced Watkins should be acquitted of murder, and when in January, 1901, I received a letter from Judge Love addressed to me in care of Indian Service, Muskogee, where I was employed, asking me to go to Paris, meet Dave Booker when court convened and assist in the trial of the Watkins case. I gladly took a leave of absence granted by Tams Bixby, and left for Paris at once. Having been admitted to the bar in 1896, and for a short time the law partner of A. C. Cruse, I was well up on the Watkins case and when Judge Stephen H. Russell was added to the defense counsel, I felt we could clear Bud in the Paris courts, where Cruce would not be so powerful, especially as he was no longer a United States attorney but was employed by the Williams family to try the case at Paris. Dave Booker had served as deputy United States Marshal out to the Paris courts for years and I soon found he knew every member of the regular jury panel for the January term of court and also knew many men who were frequently summoned for jury duty in the Paris court. We spent a week going over the names and when the case was called for trial, Booker really selected the jury, advising R. W. Dick whom to excuse and whom to accept. * * * * * * * * * * The case moved rapidly, the testimony was soon completed and argued. I had insisted that Judge Russell should take charge and close the argument for the defense and this was done. The United States sttorney in Judge Bryant's court was not so very strong and Cruce seemed entirely out of his element. We won the care on the testimony, and Judge Russell made victory certain when he dramatically drew from a shoulder scabbard a .45 six- shooter, half cocked, and demonstrated how Williams died with that in his hand after midnight in the place of business of a small Indian orphan with whom he had purposely renewed an old quarrel. The jury was out less than 20 minutes and when it returned a verdict of "not quilty" I came very near a jail sentence for contempt of court when I shouted my approval in the courtroom. * * * * * * * * * * I interviewed Watkins several times for my string of outside papers and he convinced me he acted in self-defense. "It's like this," he said, "Williams was a man twice as large as I was and always had a bunch of cow hands who would do what he told them to do. In our row at the ranch and afterward I was not afraid of him when I could see him, because I knew I was faster than he was and could beat him to it, then shoot him down to my size and have an even break. I always thought he would come into my joint at Ardmore some night with some of his punchers and maybe get me. That night when he did come in I knew there would be hell a'poppin' and then it popped. I was the quickest and played lucky. After his acquittal Bud settled down to farm and ranch life west of Ardmore. Submitted by: Sandi Carter - SandKatC@aol.com Great granddaughter of James Albert "Jim" Fitzpatrick Please see Shoot Out At The '97' Ranch: http://files.usgwarchives.net/ok/grady/history/shootout.txt Rodney Williams - B61MACKRW@aol.com Great nephew of Wyatt Williams -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Return to Grady County Archives: http://www.usgwarchives.net/ok/grady/grady.html