Initially, the photos appear to portray a scene from a movie about mid-20th century manhunt in the rural America where racist white officers and their dogs pursue, shoot, and then celebrate the capture of a young Black man.
This was not the case here. I know. I was there. This is where proper words have to fill in the blanks of those 1000 word essays that photos are supposed to deliver.
Minutes after firing a single rifle shot that ended the 3-day flight of fugitive Willie H. Taylor, the sharpshooter kneels at his side.
In October 1977, Oklahoma murder suspect and fugitive Willie H. Taylor was taken in to custody in Pulaski County, Missouri. During questioning, he grabbed a deputy’s gun, wounded the deputy, and fled in a stolen truck.
Two days later, Taylor ditched the truck in Camden County and continued his escape on foot through the rugged Ozarks countryside. The ex-marine had his shoes removed during his arrest, but that didn’t seem to slow him down.
Sightings of Taylor by residents of the hill country were many. Doors were locked and guns kept close by as lawmen pursued, but always just one step behind. According to several reports, when confronted by residents checking outbuildings, Taylor would growl and flee instead of speaking.
On the third day, I got word through an informed source that “today could be the day they get him.” The focus of the manhunt was now in a wooded area in Camden County. Many law enforcement vehicles and officers, including the FBI, were parked along the road near the command center. Amazingly, there were only two TV crews and one radio station there. I was the only still photographer.
Dogs track fugitive Willie H. Taylor over the rugged Ozarks’ terrain in south central Missouri.
Events like this were a lot less formal in 1977 than they are today. Maps were spread out across the trunk of a patrol car and if you weren’t too intrusive, you could listen in on the discussion. Today those conversations are locked inside a mobile command unit van and media updates are issued regularly.
On this day, law enforcement officers even shared their hot coffee in Styrofoam cups to fend off the icy drizzle that made everyone all the more hopeful for a quick end to the manhunt. Within 30 minutes of my arrival, that hope came as several more vehicles arrived loaded with police tracking dogs from Indiana and Ohio. They happened to be training at a police K-9 school 70 miles away in Strafford, Missouri.
Until now, one or two privately owned “bloodhounds” had been used without success. Their primary “day jobs” were running raccoons up trees during those fabled Ozarks coon hunts and keeping their owners warm on cold winter nights. The task exceeded their abilities.
The newly arrived training school dogs were let out of their cars. Handlers were briefed at the back of a squad car. Then, disappearing over a nearby ridge, we began hearing the rapid chorus of barks that seemed to say, “we’re on to him.”
No one spoke. We couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the ridge other than what was conjured up in our minds. The sound of the dogs’ excitement moved across the vista in front of us as everyone’s head panned right to left.
And then, muffled by the damp terrain of the ridge, boom…boom, boom, boom, boom…………………….boom.
Still, no one spoke. Coffee cups dropped to the ground and a rush to the cars followed. Lawmen and media drove a short distance up the road until we came to a drive with a closed gate where we left the cars to continue on foot. We ran past a house whose occupants stood watching wide-eyed and mouths hanging open as we scrambled over their barbed wire fence and continued up the hill.
The manhunt for fugitive Willie H. Taylor ended with Taylor lying on the ground shot and surrounded by law officers.
At the top of the hill, I stopped to click off a few shots of what I saw in the field in front of me. Lawmen surrounded a figure lying on the ground with another figure kneeling beside him. We learned later the first shots we heard were gunshots fired into the air, attempting to get Taylor to stop after the dogs had flushed him out of the woods. Officers also yelled at Taylor from across the field to stop. The dogs remained on their leashes, unlike some movie depictions.
When he didn’t stop, the last shot was fired by a young Missouri Water Safety officer, Gary Barclay. The sharpshooter who took time to get into a sitting position on the ground to improve his aim. Using the scope atop his high-powered rifle, Barclay took aim at Taylor’s legs. A single shot shattered Taylor’s femur, dropping him to ground and rendering him unconscious.
Missouri Water Safety Officer Gary Barclay (center), kneels at the fugitive’s side minutes after felling him with a single shot in his leg. Taylor’s torn socks are from his shoeless escape into the Ozarks’ countryside.
I ran up to the scene and dropped to my knees a few yards from Taylor’s feet. I remember seeing the scene in front of me, but being so out of breath, I worried I wouldn’t be able to hold the camera still enough to record it on film.
Taylor’s socks were in shreds from three days on the run without shoes. Kneeling beside him was the Missouri Water Safety officer, Gary Barclay, who shot him. This was the “non-movie script” ending. Barclay was emotionally drained, if not distraught.
Lawmen catch a ride from the field where Willie H. Taylor fell.
Other officers, older and more experienced, put their hands on his shoulder as if to comfort rather than congratulate. The atmosphere was somber as they waited for paramedics to arrive. Few, if any, of them had felt what he was feeling now.
Even though Taylor will survive, the emotional trauma the officer felt ran deep. No amount of hunting squirrels and deer that honed his skills as an expert marksman could prepare him for shooting another human, no matter what that human had done. That’s the part you don’t get in the movies.
John S. Stewart
The OzArt Network 