It was a cold Saturday morning, snowing slightly, when I slipped into the sheriff’s office in the Boone County Courthouse, my news beat for the Columbia Daily Missourian . There were no trials, and I was looking for coffee, donuts, and a few war stories from Sheriff Glenn Powell.
He was putting on his coat and overshoes. “C’mon, boy,” he said. “We’re gonna find a dead man and you will get a big scoop. We got a call that a house burned down close to the river and one or two people may have died.”
So I got in his car and off we went. This was 1952. No cell phones or digital cameras for several decades. When we stopped at a country store for gas, I borrowed the phone and called my city desk. They had no information. “Call the coroner,” I suggested. A moment later, “He’s not answering. Where can we reach you.?” “I’m with the sheriff, I will have to find a phone.”
As we drove away, the sheriff said that the store clerk had heard of a fire somewhere near Mount Moriah Church. Apparently the house caught fire yesterday evening and nobody reported it until too late to help. I mentioned my call and the failure of the coroner to answer.
“I called Henry just before you came in. He will meet us there.”
We made our way down a gravel road to the church and turned onto a rutty dirt road. Off in the distance, we saw a faint plume of smoke and several cars, including Henry’s. We got two shovels, an axe, and a saw and started across a field to the burnt house. On a hunch, I opened the mailbox. There were advertisements addressed to Hawkins and an envelope printed crudely, “To whoever finds this.”
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