Bartee Haile
On May 17, 1917, Felix Jones in his latest contract killing beat Thomas Lyons of El Paso to death with a hammer.
Felix Robert Jones was born in 1875 in the Central Texas county of Coryell. One of nine children, he grew up to be the only bloodthirsty psychopath in the family.
Jones was, however, related to “Deacon Jim” Miller, the notorious shotgun assassin. While they came into occasional contact, there is no evidence that Miller, 13 years older than his distant cousin, taught Jones the tricks of his deadly trade.
In 1909 34 year old Felix Jones was from all appearances a stable and law-abiding family man with his wife of 15 years and two young daughters. They lived in the small community of Merkel outside of Abilene, where Jones made ends meet by cutting hair.
If he dabbled in crime, it must have been petty in nature because the barber had not come to the attention of the local authorities. All that changed after Jim Miller’s murder-for-hire career came to an abrupt end at the hands of a lynch mob in Ada, Oklahoma.
T.J. Coggin, who for years had been Miller’s “business manager,” suddenly needed a replacement. He asked Jones, a Merkel neighbor, if he might be interested, and the barber jumped at the chance to earn some extra money.
The target of their first joint venture was Alf Cogdell. The diabolical duo lured their unsuspecting victim to an office building in downtown Abilene, where after a few drinks Jones shot the helpless man seven times with a Colt .45.
Jones calmly walked out of the building and straight to the sheriff’s office. He confessed to the murder and with a straight face insisted it was done in self-defense.
Several witnesses came forward to place Jones at the scene of the crime. But he did not even spend the night in jail thanks to Coggin, who wasted no time in posting his bail. The co-conspirator then arranged for a letter signed by 26 citizens of Merkel praising the triggerman as a peaceful pillar of the community that appeared the next day in the Abilene Daily Reporter.
In spite of Coggin’s best efforts, Jones was soon indicted for murder and stood trial in April 1910 in Alpine. The jury deliberated a grand total of 24 hours before finding the defendant not guilty.
Three years later in July 1913, Jones committed his most heinous crime. Learning that Florence Brown, a stenographer with a Dallas real estate company was in possession of deeds he had forged, he waited until the young woman was alone in her office before crushing her skull with a hammer and slitting her throat. He casually washed the blood off his hands in a sink and made good his escape.
An acquaintance of Jones, who turned state’s evidence, was prepared to testify that the killer told him he was going to Dallas to retrieve incriminating deeds. His statement led to Jones’ indictment for the Brown slaying and a trial date. But the star witness’ mysterious disappearance left the Dallas DA with no choice but to drop all charges.
The summer of 1913 was a busy time for Jones. That August, less than a month after the Dallas bloodbath, he carried out a contract in his hometown of Gatesville. He surprised Frank Battle after-hours in his bakery and finished him off with four bullets from a .41-caliber revolver.
Well aware of Jones’ growing reputation as a hired killer, the Coryell County sheriff followed his trail to Fort Worth. The lawman’s timing was perfect enabling him to put the cuffs on his prime suspect moments before he boarded a train for parts unknown.
The day the grand jury indicted Jones, Frank Battle’s father-in-law was found in his front yard clutching an empty vial of strychnine. His suicide note made no mention of the fact he was Jones’ paymaster, but it was common knowledge he hated his son-in-law because he was a Catholic and, even worse, an Italian.
The jury in the February 1914 trial broke a six-to-six deadlock with a decisive vote of not guilty. But Jones’ luck finally ran out in an El Paso courtroom four years later.
The cocky killer was confident he would get away with the 1917 murder of Thomas Lyons, but the jury was not taken in by his defense attorney. This time the verdict was a resounding “guilty” accompanied by a sentence of 25 years.
Seven years into his incarceration in the state penitentiary at Huntsville, Jones suddenly found himself a free man. He was the unexpected recipient of one of the 3,200 pardons Mirian Ferguson granted during her first term as governor. “Ma” usually gave a reason for her acts of clemency, but in Jones’ case she offered no plausible explanation.
Did Felix Jones turn over a new leaf after doing his time behind bars? Hard as that may be to believe in light of his history, the fact remains that he was never again accused of a serious crime much less a homicide.
After Felix Jones’ death in 1951, his great-grandnephew, who had heard all the stories, pressed a family elder for an answer to a troublesome question, “Was Uncle Felix really that mean?” The old man replied, “He would have killed his mother for a dime.”
Read the whole story of Bonnie and Clyde and other Thirties outlaws in “Texas Depression Era Desperadoes.” Order your autographed copy today by mailing a check for $24.00 to Bartee Haile, P.O. Box 130011, Spring, TX 77393.
