Authors: Harry N. MacLean
"Get out of the car and get your hands up!" Miller yelled. McElroy emerged and stood casually at the rear of the car with his hands on the trunk. Two patrol cars pulled up, and one of the patrolmen searched McElroy and the Caddy. No guns. They contacted Alice Wood and told her they had him. She was very frightened.
"I can't file any charges," she said. "He'll kill me if I do. I just want to get out of here."
They agreed that the Savannah city marshal, who had shown up by that time, would escort Alice to the Buchanan County line. Once she was across, he would radio back, and they would release McElroy.
McElroy wasn't as tall as Miller expected, but he was big; his arms looked thicker than Miller's thighs. McElroy flat out denied shooting at Alice or even having a gun. He was very nervous about having the pistol pointed at him and told Miller several times to put it away.
"If you're not careful, I'll shoot you right here," Miller said, only half-joking.
"Not if I can get a hold of a gun, you won't," McElroy responded menacingly.
"Yeah, but you ain't going to," said Miller, ending the conversation.
Miller ordered McElroy into the back of the police car, waited until he received the call from the marshal, then turned him loose. "Don't go shooting at her anymore," he said to him. McElroy walked to the Caddy, got in, and drove away, glaring at Miller the entire time.
When Miller took over as sheriff, Andrew County hadn't much of a problem with hog thefts, but soon after this incident, an epidemic broke out. The thefts started up in the northern part of the county. Every couple of days, a few farmers would call or stop in to report four or five hogs or a couple of cows stolen. Soon, the thefts were occurring almost every night, and the farmers started getting more and more upset. They began showing up at Miller's office first thing in the morning. "We lost eight hogs last night," they would say, "what are you going to do about it?" Miller began hitting the gravel roads at night looking for McElroy. He went out at around 10 p.m. and stayed out until 4 or 5 am, cruising first the areas of the recent thefts, and then picking other ones at random. He never managed to catch McElroy, or even lay eyes on him. McElroy used different vehicles and different methods, and his targets had no apparent pattern.
After a month or two, the pressure from the farmers became unbearable. Miller would stay up all night trying to catch McElroy in the act, and would spend all day taking complaints from the farmers who'd been hit the night before. He tried, but he couldn't cover the whole damn county.
Miller estimated that in a three-month period the farmers had lost more than $100,000 worth of hogs and cattle. There was also a rash of burglaries involving thefts of tools and antiques from farmhouses. The farmers began staying up at night, sitting by the windows in their darkened farmhouses, holding loaded rifles across their laps, waiting for McElroy. Something's got to give, Miller thought.
Since 1969, Ken had been running around with Marcia Surritte, a young woman from the St. Joe area. Marty, as she was called, had long black hair, a fair complexion, and large brown eyes; she was, by all accounts, the most beautiful of all McElroy's women. In 1971, Marty bore a son named Tony.
One day, Miller spotted Alice and Marty driving through Savannah in a car loaded with tools and furniture. He pulled them over and attempted to trace the items to the recent burglaries. Unable to do so, he decided to try to crack the women anyway, and he called in Sergeant Jim Rhoades, a special investigator for the highway patrol. Rhoades had a special hatred for Ken McElroy-Miller had heard him say that McElroy had been hanging around his daughter and that he would kill him if he got a chance.
Miller and Rhoades put considerable pressure on the two women to talk-they pushed them pretty hard, using a variety of techniques to loosen them up-but Miller denied threatening or coercing them. Eventually, according to Miller, Alice, whom he described as a tough, coarse woman, became very upset and angry. "Goddamn it," she said, "I'll just tell you every goddamn thing, then."
For the next two days, Miller claimed, he and Rhoades drove through the countryside with Alice and Marty, who pointed out the farms they had burglarized or stolen hogs from. The two cops developed a cooperative, supportive relationship with the women, taking them to dinner and breakfast and asking about their children. The cops had a list of all the recent thefts, and as they drove by the farms, one of the women would say, "Oh, there's one, that's where we stole some hogs," or "Over there, we broke into that house and stole some furniture."
At one farmhouse, according to Miller, Marty got out of the car and showed them exactly how they had helped Ken steal the hogs. Marty even pointed out the tracks where they had walked the animals through the gate, and explained that they quieted a squealing pig by sticking a finger up its ass. At another place, one of the women told Miller, they had served as lookouts by sitting on a hill across the road from the hog barn, where they could see approaching vehicles and signal Ken with flashlights if there was any trouble. The farmer who lost four hogs that night found the blanket the women had been sitting on. What burned him almost as much as losing the hogs was the human excrement he found not far from the blanket on the hill.
At another farm, Alice told Miller, they were hiding in the bushes when he drove by in his sheriff's car. "We were sure you saw us," she said. Until then, Miller hadn't realized he had ever been that close to Ken McElroy.
Shortly thereafter, Marty signed two statements reflecting question-and-answer sessions with Rhoades.
rhoades: Marcia, you showed me a house in Andrew County which is one mile south of Highway 59 on Route K approximately one-half mile west.. .. Can you tell me if you were ever at this house and with whom?
marcia: I was there with Ken McElroy. He took several items out of the house and out of the cellar. He took several picture frames and a rocking chair out of the house.
rhoades: How did he get into the house? Was it locked? marcia: He took a crowbar and pried open the back door. rhoades: Was there anything unusual about the shapes of the frames?
marcia: They were oval ...
rhoades: Was one of the items an old-type churn? marcia: Yes, but he got them out of the cellar. He got some jars. rhoades: Was there anything else he got out of the buildings at the same time?
marcia: He got two gunny sacks of corn out of the corn crib.
rhoades: Was it a wooden or metal corn crib?
marcia: Metal bin I guess it was.
rhoades: Would this have been about a year ago or more?
marcia: This was more than a year ago-about one and a half or maybe two years. I know this was last year in the fall ...
rhoades: Do you know what has since happened to these items?
marcia: Bill ... came over and he sold them to him. He has an auction company. He owns an antique place and I think he took some of them there.
rhoades: Did Ken tell you that Bill ... bought some?
marcia: Ken told me Bill... came out and beat him out of all his stuff is the way he put it. He said he didn't give him enough money for it or something.
rhoades: From your knowledge do you know if Bill... knew these items were stolen?
marcia: Yes, he did. I was there when Ken told him.
Marcia gave a second statement on hog theft:
rhoades: Marcia, last Friday, which would have been October 15, 1971, we were driving at your direction to a location north and east of Fillmore and you pointed out a lot or field which lies in the northeast corner of the intersection as being a place where you were when some hogs were stolen there. This is in Andrew County and Herschel Clizer owns this property. Will you tell me what transpired when you were there and who you were with?
marcia: Well, Ken McElroy, Glen ... and I were coon hunting and on the way home Ken said that we might as well stop and get a load for the sale. We went down to this place and they left me parked on the road and they walked up to this hog lot and they walked one at a time down to the corner of the fence and then walked back to the car and put it in the trunk of the car.
rhoades: When you make a reference to getting a load of it, what do you mean?
marcia: Getting a load of hogs. They took the hog by the tail and walked it to the trunk of the car.
rhoades: About how many hogs did they take this time?
marcia: They made two trips but only had two at a time. Two out of there. They drove them up and took them to his dad's place in Skidmore. Then they went back and got two more.
rhoades: Were you with them both times?
marcia
: Yes.
rhoades: Were these fairly large hogs?
marcia: Yes, about 275 pounds, I think. They were really big. That is why they only got two at a time. Had to make two trips back. Reason they only made two trips was because it was getting daylight. rhoades: Do you know the color of these hogs? marcia: I think they were black and white. I couldn't be positive. There was so many different colors.
rhoades: Where were the dogs after the hogs were loaded? marcia: They were still hunting.
rhoades: Did you ever pick the dogs up from hunting that night?
marcia: Not that night. We went back the next day. Ken left his coat on the side of the road and the dogs would come back. We went back the next day.
rhoades: Is this very far from the hog lot?
marcia: We were coon hunting around Graham.
On the basis of statements made by both women, Andrew County Prosecuting Attorney Alden Lance filed four separate felony informations against Ken McElroy on February 4, 1972. The charges included stealing four hogs on July 1, 1971; breaking and entering a dwelling house and stealing various items on August 27, 1971; breaking and entering a dwelling house and stealing various items on September 23, 1970; stealing four hogs on September 13, 1971.
The records indicated that Alice and Marcia took several hogs to the auction barn in Oregon, Missouri, and received receipts made out in their names, which they turned over to Lance. Lance and Miller decided to wait for McElroy to come to the auction barn on the day of the sale to pick up his money. When he showed up, they arrested him for hog theft and took him to jail.
Because Lance had filed four separate informations, Miller decided to issue four separate warrants and arrest McElroy three more times. That way, he would be picked up, put in jail overnight, and bonded out four separate times. The only drawback was that the law had a hard time catching Ken McElroy. Few cops were eager to execute the warrants.
In one instance, Miller came upon McElroy by accident on a gravel road at night. After pulling him over, Miller trained the spotlights on the rear of his car and radioed the patrol. He held his .357 Magnum on McElroy and spread-eagled him at the trunk of the car until the patrol arrived. The patrolman tried putting the cuffs on him, but they lacked over an inch of making it around his wrists.
"What'll we do now?" the patrolman asked.
"Tell you what," Miller replied, "I'll put him in the passenger seat of my car and you follow behind."
Miller slid behind the wheel and put the barrel of the .357 Magnum, which had no safety, under his left leg.
"Ken," he said, "if you grab me or make a move, I'll kill you." "I won't do nothing," said McElroy.
"I hope not," Miller said, "because if I don't get you, the trooper behind us will."
"I won't do nothing."
The ride in was easy. McElroy was overly friendly, seemingly intent on convincing Miller that there would be no problem.
"I'll be out in a few hours," McElroy told Miller while being booked. McFadin was called, a bond hearing was held, and McElroy was out the next morning.
By the third arrest, catching McElroy was taking so long that Miller decided to serve the fourth warrant at the same time. For some reason, McElroy stayed in jail for two days this time before making bond. The lawmen decided to see if they could trick McElroy into admitting the thefts and burglaries. The prosecutor arranged for a patrolman to come to the jail looking and acting like a drunken cowboy. Badly in need of a shave, the patrolman wore a dirty shirt and greasy hat, stank of whiskey, and even had cow shit on his boots. He and Miller put on quite a show in the sheriff's office where McElroy could hear it. The cowboy yelled and cursed the sheriff for picking him up, claimed he wasn't drunk, and called Miller a stupid cop. Miller swore and banged into the desk as he tried to get the cowboy under control and relieve him of his personal possessions. After about ten minutes of this, Miller put the cowboy in the cell with McElroy. The poor cowboy-cop stayed up all night talking to McElroy, trying to get him to open up about what he was in there for, but McElroy didn't utter so much as a complete sentence. When Miller let the patrolman out in the morning, the man shook his head in frustration, cleaned up, and left.