Recently, I had the opportunity to read the book Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann. I had not heard about it previously, but I encountered it at a bookstore and purchased it because it focused on the 1920s. I discovered later that not only was it highly acclaimed, but it was also being adapted into a film by none other than Martin Scorsese, making the story especially relevant today. This is a narrative involving Native Americans, oil, conspiracy, and murder, and it promises to be a wild, harrowing ride.
In the early 1920s, the Osage tribe in Oklahoma occupied a unique position, to say the least. Like so many other Native American tribes, they had been forcibly removed from their ancestral lands during the Indian Wars of the previous century and relocated to a reservation in the middle of nowhere—on land that seemingly offered nothing of real value. That, however, changed. The Osage had negotiated with the U.S. government over their tribal territories, resulting in an agreement that granted the Osage rights to any minerals found on the land, including oil, gas, and coal. At the time, it was widely expected that there would be nothing useful beneath the soil.
However, the United States developed rapidly in the fifty years since the Osage had begun living on their Oklahoma reservation. One of the most significant changes was the massive boom of the automobile industry. To fuel this industrial monster, vast quantities of oil were required, and the Osage became incredibly fortunate. A massive amount of oil was discovered on their land, which was now their legal property. It appeared there could be no such blatant violation of property rights by the white man as had occurred in the past. The Osage became very wealthy by leasing the land to white developers, and the proceeds were distributed to all members of the tribe.
The Osage enjoyed a high standard of living in sharp contrast to other Native American tribes on different reservations. They even employed white servants, effectively reversing the racial hierarchy that had been established and perpetuated throughout the rest of the country. Even compared to affluent white citizens, their newfound wealth was staggering. However, there was a catch: most Osage tribe members were considered legally incapable of managing such a large amount of money for no other reason than the fact that they were perceived as “ignorant Indians.” This legal designation required them to have someone—almost always a white man—oversee their finances. While they could not always purchase items freely, many still acquired luxuries like automobiles.
Though there were exploitative overseers, some white allies of the Osage were considered protectors in a sense. One of these figures was William Hale, a former cowboy who had been associated with the Osage since before the oil boom and was arguably the most prominent benefactor in the community. He frequently donated large sums of money to schools and the local hospital. Hale styled himself a “friend of the Osage” and signed his name with the title “Reverend,” not because he was ordained, but because he projected such a positive influence on the community. A few Osage women who had married white men considered themselves fortunate, believing that at least their overseer was their own spouse. These men were perhaps a bit less charismatic than Hale but were generally viewed as reliable safeguards for the Osage’s financial interests.
Among the Osage was Anna Brown, a young woman recently divorced from her white husband. Anna utilized her share of the oil money to live the quintessential “flapper” life, dancing at parties all night, frequenting clubs, and developing a liking for bootleg liquor. While her lifestyle was viewed with mild disapproval by older tribe members, there did not seem to be any inherent harm in it. In May 1921, Anna went missing. Initially, the family assumed or hoped that she had simply gone out on a lengthy dancing and drinking binge, perhaps in a city in a different state. That theory was shattered on May 27, about a week after she disappeared, when her badly decomposed body was discovered near a creek—blackened, bloated, and infested with worms. An autopsy revealed that Anna had been shot in the back of the head with a small firearm from above, execution-style. The only evidence found at the scene was a bottle that had likely contained illegal alcohol and two sets of tire tracks.
Anna had two living sisters, Molly and Rita; a third sister had died years prior from a strange illness. Molly was married to a white man named Ernest Burkhart, and Rita was married to an Osage man named Bill Smith. Their mother, Lizzie, was of an older generation, suspicious of the newfound wealth and content to continue with the ancient traditions of the Osage. Despite Anna’s reckless, modern lifestyle, she had been Lizzie’s favorite daughter. Less than two months after Anna’s death, Lizzie also passed away, with many believing it was due to a broken heart.
Shortly before Anna’s disappearance, a young Osage man named Charles Whitehorn had been found dead with two bullet holes in his head. In February of the following year, an Osage man named William Stepson also died unexpectedly, and matters only grew stranger. Between March and August 1922, three more individuals connected to the Osage community died suddenly and mysteriously. The third was a white man sent to Washington, D.C., as a representative of the Osage to investigate the string of murders. His body was found naked, and he had been stabbed nearly two dozen times.
In February 1923, another body was discovered: a 40-year-old Osage man named Henry Roan, whose car was found at the bottom of a ravine; he had a bullet hole in the back of his head. More than two decades prior, he had been briefly married to Molly Burkhart, though that would not be the final connection to Molly in this tragedy. Shortly after this murder, the house of Molly’s last sister, Rita, and her husband, Bill Smith, exploded at three in the morning, killing Rita and a young white female servant. Bill survived the initial blast, but after fluctuating in and out of consciousness for four days, he died in a hospital. It is likely that Bill had been targeted because he had been very outspoken about his desire to catch the perpetrators of the previous killings. In less than two years, both of Molly’s remaining sisters had been brutally murdered, and her mother had died—raising the question of whether she had actually been poisoned.
By this point, this series of connected murders was being termed the “Osage Reign of Terror.” The situation was exacerbated by the complete failure of local law enforcement and political officials. The local sheriff had been ousted for failing to uphold the law and permitting bootleggers to operate in the area. Initial outside investigators were often corrupt, with one being caught colluding with known criminals and accepting bribes. Even the governor of Oklahoma, Jack C. Walton, could not be relied upon; he was impeached after serving less than a year for accepting under-the-table contributions from an oil man.
There was, however, one white man determined to discover who was murdering the people in and around the Osage tribe: W.W. Vaughan, an upstanding local citizen and attorney who had been secretly collecting evidence on his own. In June 1923, he was summoned to the bedside of a nephew of a famous Osage chief who was dying in a hospital from an apparent poisoning. After making the trek partly by train, Vaughan arrived in time. The dying man specifically chose Vaughan to reveal what he knew about his poisoning. Vaughan wrote down everything the man said, seemingly satisfied that this new information represented a major break in the case. However, after Vaughan boarded the next train home, he was never seen again. About two days later, his body was found beside the railway tracks; he had been thrown from the moving train, and his neck was broken. To make matters even more suspicious, his secret stash of evidence had vanished. Vaughan left behind a wife and ten children, who were supported by the Osage but continued to live in poverty.
I have not listed every individual murder here, but by this juncture, 24 Osage tribe members had been killed, along with a few white men who had tried to assist them or possessed potential inside information. Furthermore, there was the revelation that Anna Brown had been pregnant at the time of her death. Chaos reigned, and terror was widespread throughout the Osage community. People were dying unexpectedly everywhere, and no one understood why. It seemed that the killers were omniscient; if someone knew something, they were hunted down and murdered without the perpetrators leaving a detectable trace. Local authorities were effectively terrified into inaction, having received multiple threatening anonymous messages.
The Osage required intervention greater than local or even state support, and they eventually received it from the relatively new Bureau of Investigation, which later became the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). The Osage murders had reached the desk of J. Edgar Hoover himself. The lead investigator on the case was Tom White, a former Texas Ranger with a remarkably perceptive mind. Only months after White took up the case, progress seemed promising. The investigation also involved a number of undercover agents who attempted to befriend suspects and glean information casually.
Initially, White was suspicious about the fact that the bullet that had killed Anna Brown had never been recovered, despite there being no exit wound. The local doctors, the Shoun brothers, claimed they had searched the inside of Brown’s head. White believed they had purposely disposed of the evidence. Later, it was discovered that the brothers had spoken privately with Bill Smith as he was languishing on his deathbed. It turned out they were attempting to persuade Smith to sign legal documents granting one of the brothers the rights to his Osage wife’s estate. This was taken as evidence of the widespread and sordid financial and legal corruption involving Osage wealth, though it did not necessarily connect directly to the murders.
This led to a broader investigation of the extensive corruption. It was discovered that judges appointed those who had supported them during elections as overseers of Osage tribe members as a reward. When an overseer funneled Osage money into their own pockets and the case went to a local judge, the matter was ignored; many overseers and judges were in league in this manner. During the investigation, White uncovered a trail of insurance policies and financial documents, some of which had been illegally altered. This trail led directly to one man: William Hale, the so-called “friend of the Osage.” It also became a pivotal fact that Molly’s husband, Ernest Burkhart, and his brother, Bryan, were Hale’s nephews and were described as being fiercely loyal to him, acting as his minions.
It soon became apparent what the motive was: unsurprisingly, it was the Osage wealth. The fact that many of these murders surrounded Molly Burkhart and her family was also no coincidence. White discovered that Hale was funneling individual tribe members’ shares of the Osage mineral trust into Molly Burkhart’s family. Then, with those family members deceased, the shares would revert to Molly herself. These shares in the mineral trust were inherited by another tribe member, though it was possible to pass them down to others outside the tribe. This could be accomplished easily if a tribe member was married to an outsider. If this individual was a white person, they could act as the overseer of the finances and also inherit the shares upon the tribe member’s death. Who was the overseer of Molly’s finances? None other than her husband, Ernest Burkhart, the unusually loyal nephew of William Hale. If Molly died, all of the accumulated money would flow directly to him.
Tom White believed he had identified the culprits; it was merely a matter of securing enough evidence to bring them down. To achieve this, White had to consult local criminals rumored to have collaborated with Hale on some of the murders. The first was a young outlaw named Dick Gregg, who had been a member of the outlaw Al Spencer’s gang before Spencer was gunned down by a lawman in September 1923. In exchange for reduced jail time, Gregg recalled that Hale had approached him and Spencer about killing Bill and Rita Smith for a hefty sum. Spencer had refused, claiming he did not believe in murdering a woman for money, and Gregg agreed with his leader. It also became apparent to White that many of the criminals and bootleggers Hale had supposedly worked with later died under mysterious circumstances. Moreover, the undercover agents uncovered a network of local white men secretly in league with Hale, tipping him off about the activities of others.
White knew that Hale realized he was closing in. Hale began donating more money to locals, attempting to further cement his reputation as a “friend of the Osage,” even while he was possibly plotting more murders. Then there was another promising lead: a criminal in jail named Burt Lawson claimed to have information regarding the Smith murders. In an interview with White, he stated that Hale had approached him with an offer to blow up the Smith house, which he did, and he directly implicated Ernest Burkhart. Meanwhile, Molly Burkhart had become reclusive, which Ernest blamed on her worsening diabetes, but there was more to it. It seemed a local priest became concerned when Molly, an avid churchgoer, stopped attending services. He also heard rumors that she was being held against her will. The priest received a secret message from Molly, who expressed her belief that someone was trying to poison her. Knowing that poisoned liquor had been a common modus operandi for the murders, the priest was able to send a secret message back to her, warning her not to drink any liquor that was offered.
Even with that warning, her condition was apparently worsening. Then came the realization that the insulin shots she was receiving from local doctors, including the previously mentioned Shoun brothers, might be poisoned. The worried priest broke the convention of secrecy between priest and parishioner and divulged the information to White. White acted quickly and secured warrants for the arrest of Hale and Burkhart, despite not having a massive amount of direct evidence. Molly was in grave danger. Since agents with the Bureau of Investigation could not arrest anyone themselves, they were assisted by local law enforcement, which—strangely enough—included the formerly disgraced local sheriff who had miraculously been re-elected.
To truly prove Hale and Burkhart’s guilt, White and his team desperately needed more evidence. Another local criminal named Blackie Thompson, who was serving time for murdering a police officer, told White that Hale and Burkhart had also approached him about killing Bill and Rita Smith. This evidence was far more reliable than what Lawson had provided, as he had been promised reduced jail time. Because Thompson’s crime was so severe, White had already told him that a reduced sentence was impossible, so it seemed he had less reason for an ulterior motive. It should be noted that Thompson had previously been used as an undercover informant in the same case but had escaped and gone on a crime spree, during which he murdered that police officer.
White singled out Burkhart for questioning rather than Hale. Ernest, being the follower, was more likely to break under pressure than the calm, collected Hale. Ernest Burkhart had not willingly provided any useful information about his or Hale’s role in the murders, and it did not appear he would yield. Thompson was brought under armed guard to meet with Burkhart face-to-face. Thompson stated he had told White everything. After this meeting, Burkhart was visibly shaken, and not long afterward, Ernest Burkhart confessed. He confirmed that Lawson had been lying, so it was fortunate for White that he had obtained testimony from Thompson.
Molly Burkhart had been transferred to a hospital, where her health rapidly improved, adding fuel to the theory that she was being poisoned through her insulin treatments. White believed the Shoun brothers had been part of the plot, but he could not prove it, and neither of them confessed to anything. Importantly, in his confession, Ernest Burkhart included a man named John Ramsey in the conspiracy, who turned out to be the much-sought-after gunman who had killed Henry Roan and possibly committed other murders as well. Despite his risky confession, Molly refused to believe her husband had been involved in any of the killings.
Then came the next hurdle: the trial. William Hale had many connections among locals and state government officials. Due to Hale’s behind-the-scenes meddling, it was decided that the case would be tried by the state of Oklahoma, where he exerted more influence, rather than a federal court, which would normally have applied to tribal lands. Then things grew worse for White. Before Ernest could present his important witness testimony, Hale’s attorney successfully coerced him into agreeing to delay his testimony for one day, which the judge permitted. The next time he took the stand, he retracted his statements against Hale and claimed—along with Hale and Ramsey—that he had been coerced and tortured by White and his agents, and that he was forced to confess.
This left White’s best witness as Kelsey Morrison, a local criminal whose loyalty had flip-flopped between the federal agents and Hale. Morrison still testified against Hale, but his history did not make him a very reliable key witness. Just as things were looking dire for the prosecution, something unexpected happened: Ernest Burkhart came around again. Burkhart had secretly spoken with the prosecuting attorney, ditched Hale’s defense attorney, hired his own lawyer, and changed his plea from “not guilty” to “guilty.” He also confirmed that White and his agents had not coerced or abused him, Hale, or Ramsey. Subsequently, the Supreme Court decided that the murder of Henry Roan had occurred on tribal lands and, therefore, the case would be sent to a federal court where Hale had far less power.
Even though Ernest Burkhart was sentenced to life in prison plus hard labor, he reportedly looked relieved, as if he had finally purged the guilty demons from his conscience. After there were fairly reliable reports that at least one juror had been bribed and that one witness had been threatened with death by Hale’s defense attorney, the judge dismissed the jury, and a new one was assembled. These reports were later confirmed, though the prosecution decided not to charge the defense attorney with obstruction of justice in order to avoid delaying the current trial against Hale and Ramsey.
There were understandable concerns that an all-white jury would not care about the murder of Indians, but the new jury found Hale and Ramsey guilty of first-degree murder for the killing of Henry Roan. Although the usual punishment was execution, they were instead sentenced to life in prison. Whether that means they escaped too lightly is up to the observer. The next year came the trial for Anna Brown’s murder. Ernest’s brother, Bryan Burkhart, was given immunity to testify against Kelsey Morrison, who had once again switched his loyalty to Hale. Bryan testified that he had helped get Anna drunk and held her in place while Morrison shot her.
That is where the trials ended. While the culprits had not been tried for all of the victims’ murders, they had been apprehended and would be punished. Despite all of the obstacles during the investigation and the prejudice that many involved held toward Native Americans, in the end, the federal justice system had not completely failed this time, as it had so many other times in the past. After the onset of the Great Depression, the Osage wealth and oil rapidly decreased as the oil was depleted, eventually leading to the abandonment—or near abandonment—of many of these Oklahoma boom towns. The Osage could no longer remain wealthy without working. There is a cruel and bitter irony in all of this: the Osage were killed for their money, and then, when the murder plot was resolved and the culprits punished, there was no more money. It was almost as if they had died for no reason—not even one as selfish and greedy as material wealth.
Before this narrative ends, let’s take a look at what became of the main players in this case in the following years. First, Molly Burkhart—the most tortured person in this entire story. Her last two siblings had been brutally murdered, her mother had died shortly afterward, her husband had committed the ultimate betrayal, and during the trials, her four-year-old daughter had died. It is difficult to imagine putting oneself in any situation that even remotely reaches such levels of pain. After the trial for the murder of her sister Anna, she finally came to the hard realization that Ernest was telling the truth: that he had assisted in the murder plot that claimed her family and friends. Her affection and trust for him quickly evaporated, and she promptly divorced him. Unfortunately, her two surviving children were stigmatized for the rest of their lives due to their blood relation to Ernest, who was now considered one of the most hated people in the community. It was a stigma they could not possibly escape.
Molly married another man in 1928, and by all accounts, it was a happy marriage. In 1931, Molly was finally able to be legally deemed competent to manage her own finances and became a full American citizen. She died six years later in 1937 at the age of 50. Tom White left the Bureau of Investigation shortly after the conclusion of the Osage murder case, going on to become the warden of Leavenworth prison in Kansas, where one of his prisoners was none other than William Hale. In 1931, White was nearly killed when rioting prisoners kidnapped him at gunpoint, took him away for leverage, and ended up shooting him point-blank with a shotgun, leaving him for dead in a ditch. Miraculously, White survived, though he had a limp left arm for the rest of his life. He later became the warden of another prison and died in 1971 at the ripe age of 90.
William Hale, the malevolent kingpin in all of this—believe it or not—was actually released from prison in 1947 after serving 20 years at Leavenworth, due to good behavior and being a model prisoner. He lived more than a decade as a free man, though he was not permitted to enter Oklahoma. He died in 1962 at the age of 87. Even while in prison, he had still referred to himself as a “true friend of the Osage people” and never admitted to orchestrating any of the killings.
Ernest Burkhart, perhaps the most complex character in this story, was released from prison in 1937 but was sent back for reportedly robbing an Osage home. He was released again in 1959 and was barely able to secure an official pardon from the state of Oklahoma in 1965, which allowed him to live in the state again. He moved back to Osage County, then moved again to another county nearby. He lived more or less destitute in a trailer until he died in 1986 at the age of 94. Bryan Burkhart, Ernest’s brother, who had also assisted in at least one of the murders, died in 1985 at the age of 86. For some reason, I could not find any information on John Ramsey after he was paroled in 1947, the same time as William Hale. Dick Gregg, the outlaw who had testified that Hale had asked him to kill Bill and Rita Smith, was shot and killed after he murdered two Tulsa policemen in 1929. A similar fate awaited Blackie Thompson, the outlaw who implicated Ernest Burkhart, when he was also killed by lawmen in 1934.
Understandably, many in the Osage Nation were upset that Hale, Burkhart, and Ramsey did not serve out their full life sentences, and they believed this to be a severe lack of justice from the same system that had so rightfully convicted them in the first place. Despite the severity and cold-bloodedness of the Osage murders, the case had been largely forgotten outside of the Osage community for over a century. But it appears that is about to change. As I mentioned at the beginning, one book, titled Killers of the Flower Moon, focused on the case and was well-received. It was published in 2017 by journalist and author David Grann, and it suddenly sparked more interest in the case. As I speak, a movie based on the story is being produced, directed by Martin Scorsese and starring Leonardo DiCaprio as Ernest Burkhart and Robert De Niro as William Hale. I am very interested in how this film will turn out, as I am a big fan of Scorsese and his collaborations with Leo and De Niro.
Just like the Bath School massacre, this story needs to be told—despite the upsetting content—especially because it has been so wrongly forgotten. While I did not discuss it in detail in this account, there are still many unanswered questions regarding the Osage murder case, the main one surrounding the other murders for which no one was charged, and whether or not they were related to William Hale. David Grann unearthed some of the old case files and notes from private detectives, and they do seem to indicate that there might have been murders isolated from Hale’s scheme—for example, that of Charles Whitehorn—though the motive for his and the other deaths would almost certainly have been the same: their shares in the mineral trust.
Hale was only proven to be connected to the killings of Anna Brown, Henry Roan, and Bill and Rita Smith, and perhaps indirectly to that of W.W. Vaughan. The extent of his plot might never be fully uncovered, but it does not change the fact that he was still a cold-blooded murderer. Whether or not he did the deeds himself, he took the lives of innocent people just for their money. It is also unknown exactly how many victims there were in total, Hale’s or otherwise, since any death that was even slightly suspicious could have been related. Any sudden, unexpected, or mysterious deaths in the general vicinity could possibly be included in the total count, but it is likely too late to connect them now. There are others that might never have even been discovered. If some of the other murders were not related to Hale, this would just be another glimpse into the dark depths of human nature and greed, and the troubles that great wealth can bring. The elders of the tribe had probably been right to be suspicious; the prospect of amassing a fortune without doing any actual work had driven people to commit horrific acts. If it had not been for the oil and the money, perhaps none of this would have ever happened to the Osage.
I truly hope this recount has been insightful. I highly recommend David Grann’s book, Killers of the Flower Moon; you should really check it out. It is not a super dense read, and it is a rare instance of a well-researched history book that is also a page-turner. Grann has a knack for striking that balance, and I hope you are looking forward to the movie as much as I am. Anyway, that is all for now, my friends—stay tuned for more tales from the Jazz Age.
