Killers of the Flower Moon

Since the ineffectual authorities were slow to react to the murders and suspicious deaths, Mollie and the Whitehorn family used their wealth to post rewards for information. Through Mollie, Anna’s estate also hired private detectives to help investigate. The estate was administered by Scott Mathis, the general store owner, who had also served as guardian to Anna and Lizzie. In a deeply racist policy, the US Office of Indian Affairs required a white guardian for Osage people it deemed unable to adequately manage the wealth they received from oil. Many of the detectives hired had previously worked for the famous agency run by William J. Burns, “America’s Sherlock Holmes” (59). William Hale independently hired an investigator named Pike. Separately, all these private eyes followed a number of leads over the next weeks.

Some looked into Anna’s phone records. At that time, human operators still physically connected all calls, and a written log was usually kept. The records showed that Anna had received a call from a business in Ralston, a nearby town, on the night of her death; she had picked up, proving that she had been home at least some of the time. When a detective visited the Ralston business, however, the owner denied making the call and said no one else would have either. Moreover, the Ralston operator had no record of such a call, leading the detective to wonder whether the true caller had used the Ralston number as a cover.

Suspicion also continued to fall on Anna’s ex-husband, Oda Brown. One detective traced his whereabouts and, working undercover, befriended him in order to elicit information. No evidence of wrongdoing turned up. Another investigator heard that an Osage woman named Rose had killed Anna over jealousy involving Rose’s husband, but nothing could be found to corroborate this story. Detectives also learned from the cab driver who dropped Anna off at Mollie’s house the day she was killed that Anna was pregnant. Two others with knowledge of this confirmed it.

Months passed with no solid leads. Then, in February 1922, an Osage man named William Stepson, a 29-year-old healthy and active steer-roper, died after suddenly falling ill. The authorities suspected he had been poisoned. The next month, an Osage woman also died from suspected poisoning. That summer, an Osage man died after drinking what authorities believed to be poisoned alcohol. With bodies piling up, several Osage tribe members looked to a white oilman named Barney McBride for help. He had been married to an Indigenous woman, was trusted by the Osage, and had contacts in Washington, DC. McBride was persuaded to go to the capital to seek help from federal authorities. However, the night he arrived in Washington, he was murdered.

Auctions for leases of Osage land were held biannually in Pawhuska. Rich white oil men and their representatives came from across the country to bid, with prices sometimes surpassing a million dollars. Many Osage tribe members and other locals turned out to watch the auctions, which were held outdoors in good weather (under a tree called the “Million Dollar Elm” [71]) and in a theater in bad weather.

White people treated Osage people with bigotry and disdain, both informally and officially. Newspaper and magazine articles detailed supposedly profligate extravagance, writing voyeuristic accounts full of racial stereotypes about how Osage people spent their money.

Likewise, the government policy of appointing financial guardians was, at best, condescending. In practice, the decision to appoint a guardian was usually determined by blood quantum—a disturbing measure of “Osage blood” one had: full-blooded Osage people almost always had a guardian while those with Osage and white heritage mostly did not. In 1921, this restriction was tightened further when Congress passed a law limiting the amount of money that Osage tribe members with guardians could withdraw from their accounts each year to just a few thousand dollars.

The Osage Nation also had to deal with numerous others trying to separate them from their money: local politicians, shopkeepers, and outright con men—people one tribe member called “a flock of buzzards” (80).

The mysterious killings continued in 1923, eventually coming to be called the Osage Reign of Terror. In February of that year, an Osage man named Henry Roan was found dead in his car in a ravine, shot in the back of the head. Few people knew that he and Mollie had briefly been married when she was 15, an arranged marriage performed according to tribal rites, which was not official in the eyes of the law. Mollie had not told Ernest about her first marriage, so she kept quiet through the investigation.

People began to wonder who would be next, keeping electric lights on outside around the clock to try to scare any potential intruders from prowling around. The next victim was Mollie’s brother-in-law, Bill Smith. He and Rita had heard someone outside their home more than once; out of fear, they moved to the city of Fairfax to be around more people. In early March, their house exploded. In the confusion and destruction, rescuers found Bill alive, but in terrible pain and with much of his skin burned off. His wife, Rita, was beside him, already dead. A servant also died. Bill survived for several days, cared for in the hospital by one of the Shoun brothers, dying without giving any useful information about who might be responsible. In April, the governor sent the top state investigator, giving some hope to the Osage people, as they felt local officials were corrupt. However, state officials were corrupt, too: The investigator was arrested for bribery and the governor was later impeached.

Another man stepped in to try to investigate: W. W. Vaughan, a lawyer and former prosecutor from Pawhuska. In June of that year, he got a call from George Bigheart, the nephew of former Osage Chief James Bigheart. George Bigheart, who was in the hospital in Oklahoma City, likely another victim of poisoning, insisted he had important information about the case. He asked Vaughan to come right away. At the hospital, Vaughan met alone with Bigheart, who gave him documents and information before he died. Vaughan then boarded an overnight train for Pawhuska to meet with the Osage County sheriff. When the train arrived, Vaughan’s clothes were on board but he was not; a search along the route turned up his body near a stretch of tracks. The documents were nowhere to be found.

The new county sheriff stopped investigating the Osage murders, essentially saying that he was in over his head. The Osage Tribal Council drew up an official petition to send to Washington, DC, asking for federal help. They also contacted Kansas Senator Charles Curtis, who was part Kaw and Osage, asking for his help in persuading the Justice Department to investigate. Amidst all the turmoil, Mollie withdrew, staying inside more and more out of fear that she and her sole remaining sister would be next. She had been living with diabetes for a while, and her condition worsened during this time. The two Shoun doctors visited her at home, injecting her with insulin, a treatment that had only recently been discovered. In 1925, Mollie sent a secret message to a priest that her life was in danger and that she was being poisoned.