Deadly Hero: The High Society Murder that Created Hysteria in the Heartland (12 page)

One man noticeably absent was Judge Kennamer, who
was in his chambers at the federal building. However, other members of the
Kennamer family were present, including the defendant’s older brother, Franklin
Jr., a young attorney working in Oklahoma City, and his sisters, Juanita Hayes
and Opal.

A few minutes later, thirty-one-year-old Judge
Bradford Williams took his seat with a call to order. He wasted no time in
getting down to business. “If there are any schoolchildren here, including
those of high school age, I want them out of the courtroom and back in their
classes,” he ordered.

When Assistant County Attorney Tom Wallace called
for the state’s eleven witnesses, only five answered. The other six were trapped
on the first floor behind a sea of people. Five deputies were dispatched to escort
them to the courtroom. “This they did by means of the old-fashioned wedge
formation used in football games two decades ago,” the
World
reported.

The first witness called to the stand was Dr.
Gorrell, who had been seated at the prosecution table next to Dr. Adams.

“Did you know John F. Gorrell Jr.?” County
Attorney Anderson asked him.

“Yes.”

“How long did you know him?”

“All my life.”

“Is he living or dead?”

Tears welled in the doctor’s eyes, and he appeared
to be struggling with his emotions. “Dead,” he said with a tremor.

The second witness was coroner Dr. Carl Simpson
who testified that he saw Gorrell’s body at the Tulsa Undertaking Home, that he
had been killed, and that there were two gunshot wounds to his head. He also
noted there was a swelling over the right eye and a discoloration of the lips,
indicators he’d been punched or struck with an object.

Wesley Cunningham, sleek-haired and serious, took
the stand to tell how he had discovered Gorrell dead at five minutes after
midnight on the morning of November 30. His testimony closely resembled what he
had already told investigators: that he was driving south, coming from downtown
Tulsa, and he had discovered Gorrell’s car, which was facing him with the left
front wheel over the curb.

Anderson then called his star witness, Floyd Huff,
and secretly hoped the agitated man would hold it together on the stand. The
story he told that day was similar to what he had first told Chief of Detectives
Thomas Higgins in Kansas City and had later told Tulsa investigators. The
airplane mechanic and parts dealer was suffering from a cold, and when Anderson
led him through his introductory questions, his replies were little more than a
whisper. Moss, who had been leaning forward in his chair, struggling to hear
the witness, called out to Huff to speak louder.

“Can’t,” a defiant Huff said. “I got a cold.”

“I can’t hear well so we make a bad combination,”
Moss countered.

Huff smiled nervously and swung his head back
toward Anderson who asked him if he knew Gorrell before November 21.

“I had met him twice before at Fairfax Airport in
Kansas City,” Huff answered. He was wringing his hands in a clear sign he was
anxious. “Our acquaintance was casual.”

Oblivious to the banging and creaking coming from the
lobby outside the courtroom, Anderson continued. “When did you first meet
Kennamer?”

“I met him at the Fairfax Airport the morning of November
twen—”

BOOOM!
The latch bolt and faceplate to the locked
wooden doors holding back the horde cracked and broke apart, causing a surging
tide of bewildered men and women to flow into the courtroom, crashing forward, screaming,
falling over themselves, and sweeping aside two bailiffs who were powerless to
stop it all.

Huff, possibly expecting an assassin, jumped
several inches out of his chair and stared wild-eyed at the melee. The dam had
broken, and one of the doors hung askew, a hinge pulled partially out. Judge
Williams pounded his gavel viciously as nine other uniformed lawmen ran forward
to force the mob back and restore order. Angered that his proceedings could
turn into a circus, the judge threatened to clear out the entire courtroom
unless calm prevailed.

Returning to his story, Huff told how Gorrell and
Kennamer had arrived that morning, looking to rent an airplane, but were turned
away because of bad weather. Then, for reasons not made clear, Huff said he
drove the duo to the municipal airport in Kansas City where Kennamer left the
return portion of his Braniff Airways ticket for safekeeping.

“Kennamer said he might get drunk and lose it,”
Huff told the prosecutor. “He then sent two telegrams. I didn’t get to see
them.”

He paused for a moment to blow his nose. Smiling
sheepishly, he put the white handkerchief back in his pocket. Huff then told
the court how their car ride to Tulsa had been arranged, and how Kennamer’s
return ticket was sold to Gorrell’s friend, Everett Gartner.

When Huff and Kennamer left Gorrell at Gartner’s
apartment, it was the last time Huff ever saw the young dental student. He then
told how he and Kennamer first stopped at his house, and then at a Kansas City
hotel where Kennamer bought a quart of whisky, a fact that did not surprise
many Tulsans who were now aware the judge’s son had a drinking problem.

“During the ride, do you remember any startling
conversation?” Anderson asked.

“Yes, he told me he was going to kill Gorrell,”
Huff answered before correcting himself. “Well, he asked me if I knew why he
came to Kansas City and I said I didn’t. He said he’d come up to kill Gorrell.

“‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ he said.”

“‘Well,’ I said. ‘I don’t know.’

“Then he reached back into his bag and brought out
a dagger about eight or nine inches long and said he planned to kill Gorrell
with it. He showed me, too, some rubber gloves and said he brought them with a view
to not showing fingerprints.”

“What other conversation was there?” Anderson
inquired.

“Well, he told me he thought a lot of this Wilcox
girl, Miss Virginia Wilcox, daughter of Homer F. Wilcox, head of the Wilcox Oil
and Gas Company, and that he was going to kill Gorrell because of a note.

“He said he went to Kansas City to get him, but
that he missed connections and didn’t meet him until midnight the night before,
which was too late. He told me then he had a plan to rent an airplane and to
hit him on the head when they were above the clouds.”

“On the trip from Pittsburg to Tulsa, did Kennamer
say anything else concerning Gorrell?” Anderson asked.

“He said that Gorrell was going to Tulsa the
following week and that he’d get him then. Kennamer told me he would leave his
car in some isolated spot and have Gorrell drive him out there. Then, he said,
he would get out of the car and let him have it and drive away in his own
machine.”

“Did he show you anything else besides the dagger
and gloves?”

“I never saw the gloves,” Huff replied.

“Did he show you anything else?”

“Yes, it was an extortion note as he called it. He
said he and Gorrell were in on it but he wasn’t going to mail it. It was
addressed to Wilcox.”

Before he dropped Kennamer off at the Philtower Building
in downtown Tulsa, Huff said he asked for Kennamer’s name and number in order
to continue their acquaintance. The scrap of paper Kennamer wrote on was
introduced as state’s exhibit one.

“When did you first learn Gorrell was killed?”
Anderson asked.

“I think a week to the day that I left Kennamer
here,” Huff answered.

“And then you related the facts to authorities?”

“Yes.”

“I have no more questions for this witness.”

Now, it was Moss’s turn, and as he carefully
cross-examined the state’s star witness against his client, he zeroed in on how
intoxicated everyone was, and the alleged threats against Gorrell.

“When you first saw these boys, they were
drinking?” Moss asked.

“Evidently,” Huff said as he held up three fingers
pressed together. “They had this much liquor in a bottle.”

“When did Kennamer first tell you about Gorrell?”

“About two hours after we left Kansas City.”

“What sort of liquor did Kennamer buy?”

“Pretty good liquor,” Huff replied, while the
crowd laughed with him and Kennamer grinned. “It cost $4.50 a quart. A Canadian
Scotch.”

“How many drinks did he have before the first
statement was about Gorrell?”

“About three or four.”

“Was he tight [inebriated]?”

“Oh no.”

“Were you?”

“No.”

“There had not been an unpleasant act or word
between Kennamer and Gorrell, had there?” Moss queried.

“No.”

“They gave you to understand they were acquainted
and friends?”

“I didn’t know they were anything but friends
until Kennamer made those statements,” Huff said.

“Of course, you were surprised to hear such
violent talk?”

“Sure, wouldn’t you have been?”

“Yes, I would,” Moss chuckled. He could sense Huff
was getting agitated, and he wanted to encourage that to discredit him.

“Did you ever before hear of any such scheme for
murder as this airplane plan?”

“I never did,” Huff said.

Although his questions, at first, seemed only to
reinforce the prosecution’s line of inquiry, when broken down, they served to
reinforce the defense attorney’s theory that his client was insane. After all,
what sane person would clobber a man and then jump out of an airplane?

“Did Kennamer ever tell you that he had bailed out
of a plane in a parachute before?”

“No.”

“How long did it take Kennamer to tell you this
story?”

“Twenty or thirty minutes.”

“Quite naturally, you didn’t talk. He just talked
constantly?”

“I didn’t know what to think,” Huff said with a
bit of cockiness. Moss’s questions were taking longer than he imagined, and they
seemed focused on the mundane.

“At Pittsburg that night, there was no further
conversation on this topic?”

“No.”

“The next morning, did he talk of it again?” Moss
pressed.

“Yes sir, he told it to me all over again except
that last part.”

After a long discussion that seemed to go in
circles, Huff clarified several times for Moss “that last part” referred to
Kennamer’s plan to get Gorrell to a lonely spot and kill him there.

Sensing Huff’s frustration growing, Moss pressed
him again. “What part did he tell you?”

“I’ve told you for the fourth time, Kennamer told
me he was going to get Gorrell in a car and let him have it.”

“Did he say what he was going to let him have it
with, was it the knife or a gun or what?”

“I don’t know.”

“What was he going to use—knife or gun?”

“He didn’t say,” Huff answered.

“Now, just a minute ago, you said—” Moss began.

“Look at the record,” Huff shouted, while pointing
his finger at the court reporter. Moss tried to reply, and Huff interrupted him
again. “Retrace your statement and you’ll see what I said.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t come down here to get mixed up,” the
ex-convict said as he glared at Moss. “I want to tell what Kennamer said. I’m
not going to answer to you.”

Judge Williams called him to order and told him to
be more mindful of the duties of a witness.

“Now please, for God’s sake, don’t get mad,” Moss
teased. It was a comment that broke the tension, sparking nervous laughter
throughout the courtroom, where even the judge smiled broadly.

“You didn’t believe any of the stuff Kennamer told
you?”

“No.”

“Where did he show you the note?”

“We were driving, at night. Kennamer turned on the
dome light.”

“Did he tell you what was in the note?”

“He said it was a demand for $20,000 to be left in
twenties, tens and five dollar bills.”

“Did he tell you what would occur to the Wilcox
family if the money wasn’t delivered?”

“He didn’t go that far into detail,” Huff
answered.

“Did he tell you what he intended to do with the
letter?”

“No, but I advised him to turn it over to the
police,” Huff answered. “He did say something in regards to the letter. He said
he thought an awful lot of the Wilcox girl, and would keep the letter on her
behalf.”

“Did he tell you he was going to disrupt the
plot?” Moss asked.

“Yes, he did say something to that general
effect.”

Moss concluded his cross-examination, and Huff was
dismissed. His testimony had the crowd sitting at the edge of their seats,
straining to hear every word. One more witness was called, and if they were
hoping for confirmation of scandalous rumors, they were disappointed. Deputy
Sheriff Nathan Martin merely recalled the moment that Saturday afternoon when
Kennamer surrendered and said, “I shot Gorrell.”

State Attorney General King was right. Besides
Huff’s testimony, there were no sensational discoveries. No new names
mentioned. No rumors put to rest.

Almost immediately, Judge Williams rendered his
judgment. “I order the defendant, Phil Kennamer, bound over for jury trial on a
charge of first-degree murder, at the January term of district court.”

There was a surge of the crowd toward the door and
deputies had difficulty pressing Kennamer through the massive crowd to get him
to the elevator that returned him to the matron’s quarters. During the slow
procession, he managed to remain quiet and answered no questions.

Judge Thurman Hurst of district four was slated to
receive the case.
Court watchers predicted the trial would start on
January 28. Tulsa would have to wait six weeks until all the wild rumors they
knew to be true were finally confirmed as factual. And in that moment, filled
with both disappointment over the bland hearing and eagerness to learn more, it
seemed as though hundreds of city residents would wait those six weeks right
there in the courthouse.