Witness Interview: Thomas Joe Hinkley

Thomas Joe Hinkley, a U.S. Postal Carrier and a friend of Richard Izard, found the bodies of Richard and Lisa Izard in a bloody mess outside their rural home while Hinkley was carrying out his deliveries. This interview was conducted in the Izard family's kitchen on Friday, April 11, 1958, shortly after deputies arrived at the murder scene.

M = Detective Jack McPhail
H = Thomas Joe Hinkley

M: All right, Tommy Joe, I know you're shook up but I need you to go through it all again for me. For the record, let's start off with you stating your name, age, address and occupation.
H: Hell, you know who I am, McPhail, I went to school with you. You could probably say it better than I can right now.

(Detective McPhail noted at this point that, although Tommy Joe had already washed his hands several times, he wipes them again on his postal uniform shirt.)

I'm still all bloody from where I tried to revive 'em, for God's sake. ... Hell, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be sacrilegious, I know how you are. I'm just so sick about this. Those people -- they were the finest. You know? The finest in the world. ... Y'mind if I take a dip? I'm still shaking, and my snuff seems to calm me.

M: That's all right, Tommy Joe, you go on ahead. Just don't spit on the floor. Use that empty Mason jar over there. Go on, now, you know I got to ask you all this.
H: Sure, I know. All right. I'm Thomas Joe Hinkley and I'm, lessee, ah, 35 until my birthday in a few months. I live out on New Zion Road out past the old pecan orchards. Mailing address is Rural Route 3, Box 109, Oxford, Miss. 38655. And I work for the government, the post office.

M: That's fine, you're doing just fine. Now tell me what happened, Tommy Joe.
H: Well, I was making my route and came up to the Izards' mailbox, and I saw that Richard had a package from Sears again. He ordered work clothes, boots and stuff like that from them, you know. They make good stuff. I figured it was some more work boots for him from the size and shake of it. Then I figured he'd want it safe, and I didn't want to leave it out by the side to the road. You know what a long ol' gravel driveway they got, and all that white trash that lives a way down the road, I think they might be the ones who've been stealing some packages and stuff on my route. Uh, I'm getting off the track, here. So anyways, I brung it up to the house, figuring I could throw it on their porch. See, Richard and I are friends. Guess that's "was" friends now. (Pause) Anyway, when I seen his truck, I perked up and thought I'd jaw with ol' Rick a bit, maybe feel him out about this weekend's poker game at Wally's -- that's my baby brother, Walter -- his house. And then I seen 'em.

M: Go on.
H: Well, there they was. Him all mashed up and his guts and blood and brains everywhere. And those bloody tools all the hell around him. And her. Her pretty face. Her head all mashed in, too. Both of 'em dead.

M: Where were the bodies?
H: "The bodies"? How can you talk about them like that? You knew 'em too ... Okay, okay. Just doing your job, I know. They were where they are right now. Out by their garden, near the tomato plants. I maybe bumped 'em a bit, but they're nearly like they were, I didn't move 'em. I was so shocked, I knew they was dead the moment I seen 'em, but I had to try, you know? See if I could get a little life back into them, help them hang on until ... But there weren't no pulse in him. Nothing. Her neither, but except for that big bash on her head, she looked untouched. Hardly dead. But both of them were. You know, they was still warm, too. Christ. Sorry, McPhail. Not a breath of life in 'em.

M: All right, all right. So what happened next?
H: Well, I looked around, but no one else was there. At least not that I spotted. I reconned around the house kind of quick like, then went up to their hall phone and called you guys. Then I come out on the porch to wait. I was real nervous, looking over my shoulders, wondering what kind of crazy bas--, uh, fool, would do something like that. And, plus, I didn't want to mess up nothing, you know? But something kept nagging at me, something I spied in the kitchen. The playpen. Where was the kid, the little girl? And Ricky Jr.? Knew it was past time for the school bus. No kids. Nowhere. I went back inside and looked, and I was afraid of what I would find. I tell you, I was glad I didn't see nothing.

M: I can sure understand that, Tommy Joe, where were you when we got here? My guys said they didn't see you right away.
H: What the hell you trying to say, McPhail? That it was me? I ought to -- I was looking for the KIDS, you fool! What kind of man do you think I am, anyway? I was worried about those little scared kids, you know. Got to be scared out of their minds, if the killer didn't get them too or take 'em off somewhere. I thought they might be hiding out in the ditch or laying low in the pasture if they had the sense to get out of the way or something. I don't know. I just had to do something.

M: Nobody's accusing you of anything, Tommy Joe, don't be such a hothead, y'all just cool off now. Just like your brothers, always have been that way. Just calm down, I got to ask you all this. It's a matter of a criminal investigation. You know what that is, don't you? It's just the way we do things. I got to know where everyone was, is, at all times. So what time did you get here?
H: Well, it was after 2:30, I know that. Lessee, I'd delivered the Blakeneys' mail, stopped to talk to ol' Miss Waring for a bit ... huh. Guess it was about a quarter of 3:00.

M: We got the call at 2:52 p.m. It took you seven minutes to dial our number?
H: McPhail. I SAID I "guessed" at the time. I'm not no damned clock.

M: No need to get to swearing at me again, Thomas Joe Hinkley. You just cool yourself off, now.
H: Well, I guess so.

M: Now, you are sure and certain you saw nobody around here?
H: Not a soul, no sign of anyone either.

M: Did you see any cars hanging around out there on the road when you drove up, notice anyone unusual around?
H: Nothing out the ordinary. I passed the school bus out the other end of the road on my way this direction, a couple cars, nothing that stood out.

M: So, when's the last time you talked with your brother?
H: Who, Wally or Aaron?

M: Walter Hinkley.
H: What's he got to do with it?

M: Just answer the question, all right, Hinkley?
H: No need to get snappy about it. I guess it was a couple of days ago. I'm not sure.

M: What do you know about today's activities at the Bowlan Glove Factory?
H: Well, I guess they made gloves. What do YOU think everybody did?

M: Not everybody, my friend. About 150 of them won't be making any more gloves anytime soon.
H: No (expletive), I mean, no kidding? They laid 'em off? Well, I'll be. Wally's been worried about that for months now with all the problems old man Bowlan's had with his money. Wally's got all those kids to support and that new mortgage is so high. I sure hope he's not one of 'em laid off. Do you know who got the ax?

M: Yeah, Tommy Joe, your brother was one. I'm sorry. I just called to check.
H: Ah HELL! He can't do that. (Notation: Hinkley adjitated enough to cause Mason jar to drop and break on kitchen floor)

M: Sit down, Tommy Joe. Look at this mess you made. You just stop right now and you tell me just how mad your brother might be about that lay-off.
H: Mad as he could be. He's worked there for years, you know, and him a veteran and all. How could Bowlan -- wait a minute, you're not thinking Wally--

M: No one's thinking anything.
H: You got that right.

M: But I gotta ask you, Tommy Joe, do you think your brother might have been angry enough to kill either of the Izards?
H: (Notation: spits directly onto the floor and leans toward McPhail) No way. What did they have to do with the layoffs? Her anyway? And Rick was just Bowlan's mouthpiece. And in case you're fixing to ask what I think you're gonna ask, me neither. I didn't even know about the blamed layoffs being official until you told me yourself. And if I'd known, I wouldn't have gotten mad at Rick. It'd be old man Bowlan, that dirty...

M: Enough of that, all right?
H: So when can I go? I don't think I want to talk to you anymore, McPhail. No more at all.

M: You'll go when I say you can go. Which should be soon. I know it's been hard on you. But I'll want to talk to you again, so don't you go making yourself scarce, you hear me? For now, just tell me where the package is. The one you delivered.
H: One of your guys got it. (Notation: spit on the floor again, maybe aiming at McPhail's shoes.) Him, the tall one over there. Ask him.

M: Got it. And I'll need to take a look at the rest of your mailbag, too.
H: Oh no you don't. This is the U.S. mail. I know my rights. Can't nobody look at somebody else's mail. And I'm gonna call in to the main office now, IF you don't mind, so I can get a replacement to finish my route out if it's not too late already.

M: Yes I do mind, and no more mail from that bag is going to be delivered yet today, Tommy Joe. This here is a murder investigation, and we need to look for some motive, ah, hellfire and damnation. Fine, I'll call your supervisor and get his permission. Happy now?
H: Happy as I'm gonna get.

M: Don't get up too quick, you gonna leave that nasty tobacco spit and broken glass mess here? You made the mess, so you clean it up now, just stay here near the table though.
H: All right, all right. I'm going, I can't help it, McPhail, I'm so shook over this whole thing. Where you think the kids went to? You don't think they're dead too, do you?

M: Well, now, Tommy Joe, I can't comment on that at the moment. You got any ideas?
H: Hiding out or run off, I don't know. I hope that's all it is though, McPhail. I can't stand to think of those kids seeing their Momma and Daddy like that. Or worse.

M: I understand Tommy Joe, you go on home and we'll talk again.