The Phantom Killer: Unlocking the Mystery of the Texarkana Serial Murders: The Story of a Town in Terror Read Online Free
hospital.
Groggy, semiconscious, Hollis’s mind raced. Why had the motorist acted so strangely? Had he seen anything that might help identify the attacker? Or had the motorist been his assailant? His sense of time was deranged. He didn’t even know if the man in the car could have even been the criminal.
Afterward Hollis would learn that the police tried to locate the man in the car but never could. Hollis’s mind returned to the slight possibility that the motorist had been his assailant and had narrowly escaped from the police by spinning a fictitious identity. But how could he explain the woman in the car with him, who had said nothing at all? Didn’t even gasp at the sight of such a brutally beaten person. One thing made as much sense as another.
In his confusion and pain, it was understandable that Hollis failed to accept a perfectly logical explanation: Who was likely to let a stumbling, bleeding stranger in his underwear into his car, particularly in a place with Texarkana’s reputation? Even if the cautious driver had been willing, it’s doubtful that his female companion would have wanted a stranger in the car.
Once in the ambulance, Hollis obsessively recited to the attendant his name, address, and where his brother Bob could be reached, over and over again. His trousers and wallet were gone. He had no identification. He was afraid no one would know who he was if he died.
Though it seemed like an eternity to the two victims, the entire action in the dark had taken not more than ten minutes. Likely, no more than five to eight minutes.
Long after both victims had arrived at the hospital, a fading moon—a day away from the last quarter—began almost tentatively to peek faintly beyond the tree line to the east. It would take a while for it to cast any light.
The mass movement of people during World War II is the simplest way to explain why Jimmy Hollis and Mary Jeanne Larey met in Texarkana in 1946.
James Mack Hollis was born in 1920, in little Dubach in northern Louisiana, a short drive from the Arkansas line. Months after his birth, his parents moved to El Dorado, Arkansas, to open a general store and restaurant and profit from the huge oil discovery. It was a typical rough-and-ready boomtown. The elder Hollis ran the store; his wife cooked for the restaurant. Jimmy, his two brothers, and two sisters grew up in El Dorado.
Later Hollis and his parents moved to California for a while, where he attended high school and obtained his Social Security card. When the war came, he hurried to join the Navy but failed the physical examination because of a congenital heart defect. He opted for the next best, a job in aircraft manufacturing at Fort Worth, Texas. On the side he sang in a dance band. It was during this time that he met and married his first wife, Dora Louise Nichols. Hollis took her to El Dorado where, in December 1942, they married. He was twenty-two; she, nineteen. As the war wound down, so did their marriage. In January 1946 they separated for good. Hollis left Fort Worth. He went first to Texarkana, where his two brothers lived, and then on to El Dorado where he filed for divorce.
El Dorado was several hours east of Texarkana on Highway 82. Hollis’s older brother Edmond managed the Texarkana office of the Reliable Life Insurance Company. Reliable Life was a debit insurance company that collected premiums on a door-to-door basis. Edmond pointed out that their younger brother Robert Jr., recently returned from Europe, was already working for the company in Texarkana. Why didn’t Jimmy, by then at loose ends, also join the Reliable Life team? It made sense. He moved in with Bob in an apartment on the Arkansas side. Texarkana was a good way-station.
Mary Jeanne Harris was born in Tishomingo, Oklahoma, in 1927. When the war boom came, her father took his family to Texarkana, finding a job at Red River Ordnance Depot. As government housing became available closer to work the family moved to East
Groggy, semiconscious, Hollis’s mind raced. Why had the motorist acted so strangely? Had he seen anything that might help identify the attacker? Or had the motorist been his assailant? His sense of time was deranged. He didn’t even know if the man in the car could have even been the criminal.
Afterward Hollis would learn that the police tried to locate the man in the car but never could. Hollis’s mind returned to the slight possibility that the motorist had been his assailant and had narrowly escaped from the police by spinning a fictitious identity. But how could he explain the woman in the car with him, who had said nothing at all? Didn’t even gasp at the sight of such a brutally beaten person. One thing made as much sense as another.
In his confusion and pain, it was understandable that Hollis failed to accept a perfectly logical explanation: Who was likely to let a stumbling, bleeding stranger in his underwear into his car, particularly in a place with Texarkana’s reputation? Even if the cautious driver had been willing, it’s doubtful that his female companion would have wanted a stranger in the car.
Once in the ambulance, Hollis obsessively recited to the attendant his name, address, and where his brother Bob could be reached, over and over again. His trousers and wallet were gone. He had no identification. He was afraid no one would know who he was if he died.
Though it seemed like an eternity to the two victims, the entire action in the dark had taken not more than ten minutes. Likely, no more than five to eight minutes.
Long after both victims had arrived at the hospital, a fading moon—a day away from the last quarter—began almost tentatively to peek faintly beyond the tree line to the east. It would take a while for it to cast any light.
The mass movement of people during World War II is the simplest way to explain why Jimmy Hollis and Mary Jeanne Larey met in Texarkana in 1946.
James Mack Hollis was born in 1920, in little Dubach in northern Louisiana, a short drive from the Arkansas line. Months after his birth, his parents moved to El Dorado, Arkansas, to open a general store and restaurant and profit from the huge oil discovery. It was a typical rough-and-ready boomtown. The elder Hollis ran the store; his wife cooked for the restaurant. Jimmy, his two brothers, and two sisters grew up in El Dorado.
Later Hollis and his parents moved to California for a while, where he attended high school and obtained his Social Security card. When the war came, he hurried to join the Navy but failed the physical examination because of a congenital heart defect. He opted for the next best, a job in aircraft manufacturing at Fort Worth, Texas. On the side he sang in a dance band. It was during this time that he met and married his first wife, Dora Louise Nichols. Hollis took her to El Dorado where, in December 1942, they married. He was twenty-two; she, nineteen. As the war wound down, so did their marriage. In January 1946 they separated for good. Hollis left Fort Worth. He went first to Texarkana, where his two brothers lived, and then on to El Dorado where he filed for divorce.
El Dorado was several hours east of Texarkana on Highway 82. Hollis’s older brother Edmond managed the Texarkana office of the Reliable Life Insurance Company. Reliable Life was a debit insurance company that collected premiums on a door-to-door basis. Edmond pointed out that their younger brother Robert Jr., recently returned from Europe, was already working for the company in Texarkana. Why didn’t Jimmy, by then at loose ends, also join the Reliable Life team? It made sense. He moved in with Bob in an apartment on the Arkansas side. Texarkana was a good way-station.
Mary Jeanne Harris was born in Tishomingo, Oklahoma, in 1927. When the war boom came, her father took his family to Texarkana, finding a job at Red River Ordnance Depot. As government housing became available closer to work the family moved to East
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