The Honor Slaying

The Honor Slaying

Forgotten True Crime by Okie Investigations

Episode Script — The Merrick-Downs Case, Oklahoma City, 1933

COLD OPEN

[PRODUCTION NOTE: Slow pacing. Let the scene breathe. Courtroom ambiance if available.]

In May of 1933, inside a courtroom in Oklahoma City, a chubby little 8-year-old girl with long curls tied up with a red ribbon walked up to the witness stand. She was wearing a little frock, and she looked about as small as a person could look in a room full of grown men.

The judge, a man named John B. Ogden, looked down at her and asked, "Young lady, do you know what it means to be sworn?"

She looked right back at him and said, "No, ma'am."

Now, the courtroom probably had a little chuckle at that. An 8-year-old calling the judge "ma'am." But then she said something that silenced the room. She said she knew it would be wrong not to tell the truth, "because if I don't, Jesus will put a bad mark in His big book."

Her name was Marcheta Merrick. And she was there to tell a jury made up of all married men what she saw on the night of April 14th, 1933. The night she woke up in her mother's bed to find a strange man in the room. The night that would lead her father to empty a .45 caliber pistol into another man thirteen hours later.

But to understand how an 8-year-old girl ended up in a witness chair, swearing on Jesus's big book, we have to go back. Back to a house on Southwest 25th Street in Oklahoma City. Back to a basketball player from Denver. Back to a party, a bottle, and a dark bedroom at 4:30 in the morning.

[PRODUCTION NOTE: Transition music / beat]

PODCAST INTRO

Hello everyone, and welcome to Forgotten True Crime by Okie Investigations, the True Crime Podcast where we tell the stories of crimes that happened long ago. If you are a true crime fan, make sure you subscribe to the podcast. That way, when we have new episodes, you will be the first to know. Also, check us out on our webpage, Section29.com, where we post many cool things we found for each episode. This episode, "The Honor Slaying," has some really interesting stuff for you to look at, including the original newspaper clippings with photos of everyone involved. Make sure you go there and check it out. The links to all of that are in the description below. This is a crossover episode with my other Podcast, Okie Investigations, which is a new effort to focus on local stories from my home state.

Parts of this story may contain opinions and speculations and should be taken as such. These stories depict violent crimes of all types and may be a trigger for some listeners. Listener discretion is advised.

This is officially the relaunch of Forgotten True Crime, over the years we have brought many stories to life. Many decendents of those involved in these stories have reached out to tell us what we got right or how they remember the story being told. But most of all, I have missed pulling these stories out of historical records and bringing them back to the surface for all of you. And let me tell you, This story has everything. It has a bedroom assault, a man who drove 45 miles to work and back before coming home and shooting someone, an 8-year-old girl testifying in court, a dying man who lied to protect the person who shot him, and a wife who shielded her alleged attacker with her own body. And the newspapers at the time called it an "honor slaying." But the more you look at it, the less honorable it gets.

All of this happened in Oklahoma City, in April and May of 1933. And almost nobody talks about it today. So let's fix that.

THE PLAYERS

To tell this story right, you have to know who these people are. Because this isn't just a case about a shooting. It's a case about a family, a houseguest, and a night that went wrong.

First, we have E. P. "Percy" Merrick. Percy was 37 years old. He was a state highway enforcement officer, basically a peace officer who worked on the roads. He lived at 2924 Southwest 25th Street in Oklahoma City with his wife and daughter. By all accounts, Percy was a tough man. He was law enforcement. He knew how to handle himself. And he kept a .45 caliber pistol in a bureau drawer in his bedroom.

Then we have his wife, Geneva Merrick. Geneva was 26 years old. Eleven years younger than Percy. She had recently had a serious surgical operation, and she was still recovering at the time of the events we're going to talk about. She was described as a plainly dressed woman, and after everything went down, she was reported to be "on the verge of a nervous collapse." One thing that's important to know is that Percy and Geneva slept in separate beds in the same room. Their 8-year-old daughter, Marcheta, slept in the bed with her mother.

And that brings us to Marcheta. The little girl we met in the cold open. Eight years old. Chubby, with long curls and a red ribbon. She was sleeping next to her mother on the night everything changed.

Now, Percy had a brother named Reuben Merrick. Some of the early newspaper coverage called him "Tom," but the trial testimony identified him as Reuben. Reuben was involved in basketball circles, and he knew a young athlete from Denver named Henry Downs. That basketball connection is how Downs ended up in the Merrick household. Reuben introduced them.

Henry Downs. The victim in this case. Downs was about 27 years old. He was a basketball star from Denver, Colorado. The newspapers called him a "Denver athlete." His shooting was newsworthy enough to make the sports page of the Muskogee Daily Phoenix, 150 miles from Oklahoma City. People in Oklahoma knew who Henry Downs was.

While researching this case, it was quite fascinating to see basketball being played “Professionally” at this time. To say that Downs was a pro athlete was a understatement. He was apart of the Colorado Piggly Wigglys, which is honestly a wild name for a team, but they had a connection with the grocery store with the same name. The name was so wild in fact, when they were sponsored by another grocery store, Safeway, they were forced to be called the Denver Pigs. Later, the team was purchased by Safeway and eventually after a couple of rebrands, they became better known as The Denver Nuggets which was the first team to join the NBA with this name.

In the days before April 15th, 1933, Downs came to stay at the Merrick home as a houseguest. He was connected to the family through Reuben and basketball. The prosecution would later point out that Downs "hardly had acquaintance" with Geneva. He was the brother's friend, not hers, not Percy's.

And there was one more person in that house on the night in question. Someone the newspapers barely mentioned. A man named Sanders. We don't know Sanders' first name. We don't know his relationship to the Merricks. All we know is that he was sleeping somewhere in the house that night, and when everything went sideways, he jumped up and turned on the light and asked, quote, "What the hell is going on?"

So that's the household on the night of April 14th, 1933. Percy, 37, the highway officer. Geneva, 26, recovering from surgery. Marcheta, 8, sleeping next to her mother. Henry Downs, 27, the basketball player from Denver. And Sanders, the unknown. All under one roof. And a .45 in the bureau drawer.

THE NIGHT — APRIL 14-15, 1933

On the evening of Friday, April 14th, Henry Downs went out to a party. And at that party, he drank. He drank a lot. Percy Merrick would later testify that when Downs came back to the house, he recognized him as drunk. He used a word that I love from this era. He said Downs had gotten "hooched." That's 1930s for hammered and I think I’m going to try and bring that term back.

Now, this detail is going to matter. Remember it. Downs was drunk. He came home hooched from a party in the early morning hours.

According to Percy Merrick's testimony at trial, at approximately 4:30 in the morning on Saturday, April 15th, Percy was sleeping in his bed. Geneva was in the other bed, with little Marcheta beside her. And Percy was awakened by Geneva screaming.

She was screaming, "Percy! Percy, get up quick, my Lord, there's a strange man in bed with me!"

Now, think about that for a second. Geneva's first reaction was that there was a "strange man" in the bed. She didn't say Downs' name. She said a strange man. According to earlier accounts, Geneva initially thought the person approaching her bed was Percy, her husband. It was dark. She was half-asleep. And when she realized it wasn't Percy, she screamed.

Percy jumped out of bed. He testified, "I saw the bulk of a man off her bed, and I grabbed him by hair and neck." He grabbed whoever it was and pulled them away from his wife's bed. Sanders, sleeping elsewhere in the house, heard the commotion, jumped up, and turned on the light. "He asked what the hell was going on."

And that's when Percy saw who it was. It was Henry Downs. Their houseguest. His Brothers Friend. The basketball player from Denver. And he was drunk.

Percy said at trial, "Then I recognized Downs. I thought he had got hooched... drunkenly staggered in the room." He described Downs as looking pale and scared. Downs didn't say anything. He just stood there. Merrick shoved him out of the room.

Now here is where the story gets really interesting. And this is where I think the whole case turns.

Percy asked Geneva what happened. His exact words at trial were, "I asked my wife if he did anything to her, and she said he was trying to."

"He was trying to." That's what Geneva told Percy in the heat of the moment.

Percy went for the gun. The .45 in the bureau drawer. He got it. And he was ready to use it right then and there. But the other guest, Sanders did something that, to me, is one of the more puzzling things in this case.

He stepped in front of Henry Downs. He physically shielded Downs. He put his body between Percy and Downs and he would not move.

Percy testified that he shouted, "Stand back, big boy! I'll shoot him here. It will be through my body."

Think about that. This isn't the wife. This isn't a family member. This is a guest in the house who just woke up to chaos — and his first instinct is to throw himself between a man with a .45 and the guy that man wants dead. Why? What did Sanders know? Was he just trying to keep Percy from ruining his own life? Or did he know something about what really happened in that bedroom — that maybe a drunk man had stumbled into the wrong room in the dark, and nobody needed to die over it?

We'll never know for sure what Sanders was thinking. But I can tell you what the prosecution was thinking. County Attorney Lewis R. Morris had a theory, and he expressed it with one of the best lines I've ever read in a court case. He said, "The truth wandered into the bedroom on two legs, from the bathroom."

Morris believed Downs stumbled in from the bathroom, drunk and confused. Not as a predator. Not as an assailant. Just a hammered 27-year-old who opened the wrong door at 4:30 in the morning. And when you remember that Downs had been at a party getting hooched all night, and that 8-year-old Marcheta was sleeping in that bed too, the prosecution's theory starts to sound a lot more plausible than the defense's.

Because if Downs was deliberately trying to assault Geneva, he was doing it with a child in the bed. Who does that?

But whether it was an assault or a drunken stumble, what happened next is not in dispute. Percy Merrick told Henry Downs to leave. His exact words were, "I don't know that there's anything you could say that would help matters a bit. You get out, and I mean out of town."

Downs tried to apologize. Percy wasn't having it.

And then, the night went quiet. Nobody called the police. Nobody went to the hospital. Nobody reported an assault. Percy sat up and smoked for the rest of the night. Geneva, the 26-year-old mother, lay sobbing on her bed. Marcheta was sent back to bed. "I followed the folks to the front room, but they sent me back to bed," she would later testify.

No police were called. Remember that. It's going to matter.

THIRTEEN HOURS

This right here is the part of the story that I keep coming back to. Because what happens in the next thirteen hours either makes Percy Merrick a sympathetic figure or it makes him a murderer.

Morning came. The sun came up on April 15th, 1933. And Percy Merrick did not go to the police. He did not report what happened. He did not take his wife to the hospital. You know what he did?

He went to work.

Percy Merrick got in a car with his boss, a man named Marvin Brown, his superior in the state highway department, and drove 45 miles to Chickasha, Oklahoma. And back. A 90-mile round trip. He was described as "extremely nervous" during the drive, but he made the drive. He functioned. He did his job. He drove a car. He interacted with his boss.

This is not a man who has lost the ability to reason. This is not temporary insanity. This is a man going about his day.

And here's the other thing that kills me. At some point during the day, Downs left the Merrick home. Whether he was kicked out or left on his own, we don't know. But he ended up at a gasoline filling station at 23rd Street and Lincoln Boulevard. And he had a 16-year-old friend with him at that gas station. A teenager. That kid would later testify at trial.

Now, Percy came home from Chickasha. It was the afternoon. He decided to take Geneva, who was still sick from her surgery, out for a ride. And where did they stop? They stopped at that gasoline filling station at 23rd and Lincoln.

Percy Merrick walked in and found Henry Downs sitting in a chair, reading a newspaper.

THE SHOOTING

Now, I want you to picture this scene. It's about 5:15 in the afternoon. A filling station. Henry Downs is sitting in a chair, reading the paper. He's got his 16-year-old friend nearby. And in walks Percy Merrick. The man whose wife's bed Downs was in thirteen hours ago.

According to Percy's testimony, Downs looked up and made what Percy described as "a sort of insulting grin or slur." Whatever look Downs gave him, Percy didn't like it. He told Downs, "Just one or two more of those, and that is going to cause me to kick the stuffing out of you, or you to kick it out of me."

And then, according to Percy, Downs jumped up. Downs came at him. Downs kicked at his groin. Percy pulled the .45 caliber pistol.

And this is where Percy's story gets convenient. He testified, "I pulled my gun to knock him down. I didn't intend to kill him then. But the gun went off. I don't remember anything until I came to, snapping that empty .45."

"I came to, snapping that empty .45."

Five shots from a .45 caliber pistol. Five trigger pulls. Two of the bullets hit Henry Downs. One of them hit him in the head.

Three of the five shots missed. At close range. Now, that could mean Percy was firing wildly, out of control, in some kind of blackout like he claimed. Or it could mean what it usually means when someone fires five times and only hits twice. He was shooting at a man who was trying to get away.

County officer Claire Tyler investigated the scene. He noted the path of the bullets, which indicated that Downs had been sitting in that chair when the shots were fired. A seated man. Reading a newspaper. Shot with a .45.

When officers arrived and asked Percy what happened, his answer was five words: "I shot in defense of my home."

In defense of his home. Not in defense of his life. Not in self-defense. In defense of his home. At a gas station. Thirteen hours later.

THE DYING MAN'S LIE

Henry Downs was taken to the hospital. He had a bullet in his head and another wound in his body. He was near death. And he did something that I cannot stop thinking about.

When the doctors and the police asked him what happened, Henry Downs said the shooting was an accident. He said Percy Merrick had been cleaning his gun, and it went off.

Just think about what he was asking people to believe. A man cleaning a .45 caliber revolver accidentally fired five rounds, two of which hit a man sitting in a chair at a gas station. One of which went into his head. It was an accident.

It was an absurd lie. And Downs knew it was absurd. He wasn't trying to be believed. He was trying to protect Percy Merrick. The man who had just put a bullet in his brain.

Why? I keep asking myself that. Why would a dying man protect the person who killed him? Was it guilt? Did Downs know or believe he had done something wrong in that bedroom, and he felt he deserved what he got? Was it loyalty to Reuben Merrick, who was his friend and the connection to the family? Was there something more complicated going on between Downs and the Merricks that nobody wanted exposed?

We will never truly know the answer. Because Henry Downs died two days later, on Monday, April 17th, 1933. He was 27 years old. And on his deathbed, he maintained the lie. The Maud Enterprise reported, "On his death bed, Downs declared he was shot accidentally."

Now, here's a bit of legal irony for you. In the law, there's something called a dying declaration. It's an exception to the hearsay rule. The idea is that a person on their deathbed has no reason to lie, so their final statements are considered especially trustworthy. Courts allow dying declarations as evidence specifically because dying people are presumed to be telling the truth.

Henry Downs used his dying declaration to tell a lie. And that lie probably made the prosecution's case harder. Because how do you convict a man of murder when the victim himself says it was an accident?

No charges were initially filed against Percy Merrick. Geneva was reported to be "on the verge of a nervous collapse."

THE "HONOR SLAYING"

After Downs died, things started moving. The day after his death, on April 18th, Percy Merrick was released on bond. The Enid Morning News ran it under the headline: "SLAYER OF ATHLETE RELEASED ON BOND."

Two days later, on April 20th, there was a preliminary hearing. The Maud Enterprise headlined it, "'Honor Slaying' Case In Court." And that's the phrase that would follow this case forever. "Honor slaying." Like killing a man in a chair at a gas station was somehow noble.

Merrick was described as the "confessed slayer." He offered no defense at the preliminary hearing. Prosecutors expected no difficulty binding him over for trial. And the case was set for trial in district court.

The press had already made up its mind. This was a husband defending his wife's honor. That was the story. Downs was the intruder. Merrick was the protector. The "unwritten law," they called it. The idea that a man has the right to kill someone who violates his wife.

But the unwritten law is just that. Unwritten. It's not in any statute. It's not in any legal code. It's a feeling. A justification. An excuse. And one judge was about to say so, out loud.

THE TRIAL — MAY 1933

The trial opened on Monday, May 8th, 1933. The Daily Oklahoman ran a big spread with photos of Percy and Geneva: "'Honor Slaying' Trial Opens Today."

The prosecution was led by County Attorney Lewis R. Morris. And Morris was not buying the honor slaying narrative. He came in with a plan. He was going to prove that Downs hardly knew Geneva. He was going to prove that Downs was drunk and stumbled into the room by mistake. And he was going to hammer home the fact that thirteen hours passed between the bedroom incident and the shooting.

The defense was led by attorneys Prince Freeling and Ed Nor. Their strategy was temporary insanity. The idea was that Percy Merrick, upon seeing a man in his wife's bed, was driven to such a rage that his reason "staggered" and he could not control his actions.

"At that moment reason staggered." That was the defense's phrase. It's poetic. But it's got a problem. Which moment? The moment in the bedroom at 4:30 in the morning,Or the moment at the gas station at 5:15 in the afternoon, after he'd driven 90 miles, gone to work, come home, taken his wife for a ride, and found Downs reading a newspaper? Reason doesn't stagger for thirteen hours. Reason has a nap and comes back.

On Tuesday, May 9th, the testimony began. And this is where the case went from a newspaper story to something truly unforgettable.

Geneva Merrick took the stand as the first witness. The young wife, 26 years old, still recovering from surgery, told the jury about the night of April 14th. About the scream. About the strange man. About keeping Percy from the gun.

Then Reuben Merrick, Percy's brother, took the stand. He was the one who knew Downs through basketball. He was the one who had brought Downs into the family. And he stood up in that courtroom and described his brother as "anger-crazed." That's a heavy word to use about your own brother. But it was the word the defense needed. Anger-crazed. Not in control. Temporarily insane.

But the moment everyone would remember was when the defense called its next witness.

MARCHETA

I told you about her at the beginning. The chubby 8-year-old with the curls and the red ribbon. Little Marcheta Merrick walked up to that witness stand, and the whole courtroom changed.

Judge John B. Ogden looked at her and asked if she knew what it meant to be sworn in. She said, "No, ma'am." And then she said, "Because if I don't tell the truth, Jesus will put a bad mark in His big book."

I want you to understand something about the jury in this case. They were all married men. Every single one of them. And they're sitting there watching this little girl in her frock and red ribbon, swearing on Jesus's big book, about to tell them what happened in her mother's bed.

Marcheta testified. She said, "Daddy kissed me and said I had been a sweet girl." That was earlier in the night. Then she woke up. "I don't know exactly what woke me up. But she was saying 'Oh, Percy, don't,' hurting my arm."

Think about that. Geneva was saying "Oh, Percy, don't" and was hurting Marcheta's arm. Whether she was pushing Marcheta away to protect her or squeezing her arm in fear, either way, the child woke up in the middle of something terrifying.

Then Marcheta said, "I turned over and screamed. She was fighting and looking at Mr. Downs. I didn't say anything. I followed the folks to the front room, but they sent me back to bed."

They sent her back to bed. An 8-year-old girl who had just woken up to her mother fighting a strange man. They sent her back to bed and told her to go to sleep.

Whatever the prosecution's legal theory was, whatever the evidence showed, whatever the twelve-hour gap meant, in that moment, Marcheta Merrick gave every married man on that jury permission to feel what Percy Merrick felt. She made it real. She made it personal. And the headline the next day in the Daily Oklahoman said it all: "Child's Story Aids Merrick Case Defense."

PERCY ON THE STAND

After Marcheta, Percy Merrick himself took the stand. And he testified for hours. He went through the whole thing. The awakening at 4:30 AM. Grabbing Downs by the hair and neck. Recognizing him as drunk. The gun in the bureau. Geneva blocking him. Telling Downs to get out of town. Smoking all night while Geneva sobbed.

He told the jury about driving to Chickasha the next day. About being "extremely nervous." About coming home and taking Geneva for a ride because she was still sick. About stopping at the gas station and finding Downs inside, reading a newspaper. About the insulting grin. About the confrontation.

And then he got to the shooting. And this is what he said: "Then Downs jumped up and came at me, and I struck back. He kicked at my groin, and I pulled my gun to knock him down. I didn't intend to kill him then. But the gun went off. I don't remember anything until I came to, snapping that empty .45."

"I came to, snapping that empty .45." That was the defense in one sentence. He blacked out. He didn't know what he was doing. At that moment, reason staggered.

Several physicians were also called to testify that Percy Merrick was temporarily insane at the time of the shooting. The defense had lined up 39 witnesses total. They were throwing everything they had at this.

THE UNWRITTEN LAW IS NOT IN EFFECT

On Wednesday, May 10th, closing arguments were heard. And then Judge John B. Ogden delivered his charge to the jury.

And he said something that, for me, is the most important sentence in this entire case.

In a loud, firm voice, Judge Ogden told the jury: "The unwritten law is not in effect in Oklahoma."

He told them plainly. Even if Merrick's young wife was assaulted. Even if everything the defense said was true. Percy Merrick was not justified in shooting Henry Downs unless the jury could find that he was legally insane or acting in self-defense at the time of the shooting.

The judge defined the standard: "The test of insanity in this state is whether a man knew right from wrong or had the capacity to know the consequences of his act at the time of committing it."

And think about what the jury had to consider against that standard. Percy Merrick waited thirteen hours. He drove 90 miles. He went to work. He came home. He took his wife for a ride. He walked into a gas station and found a man reading a newspaper. And then he fired five rounds from a .45.

Does that sound like a man who didn't know right from wrong? Does that sound like a man who didn't know the consequences of his actions?

The press had been calling this an honor slaying for weeks. The defense had given them an 8-year-old girl swearing on Jesus's big book. And the judge stood up and told them that none of that mattered under the law.

Now it was up to twelve married men to decide.

THE VERDICT

The jury got the case at 4:28 p.m. on Wednesday, May 10th. And they deliberated. Through the evening. Through the night. Into the next morning.

I always wonder what happens in a jury room when they deliberate overnight. Were they arguing? Were they torn between what the law said and what their hearts said? Because they had heard an 8-year-old girl swear on Jesus's big book. They had heard a husband describe finding a man in his wife's bed. But they had also heard a judge tell them the unwritten law does not exist. They had also seen the thirteen-hour gap. The drive to Chickasha. The man sitting in a chair reading a newspaper.

At 9:20 in the morning on Thursday, May 11th, 1933, the jury came back.

Guilty. First degree manslaughter.

Not murder. Not innocent. Manslaughter.

The sentence: five years in the penitentiary at hard labor.

The Oklahoma News ran it across the front page: "MERRICK APPEALS 5-YEAR TERM IN 'HONOR' SLAYING." The subhead told you everything: "Wife Collapses as Jury Returns Verdict Finding Mate Guilty of Manslaughter in Alleged Attack on Her By Athlete."

Geneva Merrick collapsed in that courtroom. Percy, in his dark gray suit, was described as "distressed." His attorneys had predicted an acquittal. They were wrong.

As Percy led his collapsed wife out of the courtroom, a reporter asked him for a statement. And Percy Merrick, the man who had given five-word answers and long testimony and dramatic quotes throughout this entire case, said seven words:

"I can't make any statement now."

The defense immediately filed for an appeal. A new trial motion was set for May 18th. The newspaper suggested it could take about a year before Merrick would actually have to report to the penitentiary.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

So what do we make of this case?

The jury found the space between murder and innocence. They didn't acquit Percy Merrick. They didn't convict him of murder. They found manslaughter. Five years. They were telling him: what you did was a crime, but we understand why you did it.

But here's what I keep coming back to. The things that don't add up.

Why did Sanders shield Downs with his own body? This man was a guest in the house. He woke up to shouting, to chaos, to a man holding a .45 — and his first instinct was to stand between the gun and the target. What did Sanders know? What had he seen or heard that made him so sure nobody needed to die that night?

Why did Henry Downs, with a bullet in his head, lie to protect Percy Merrick? Why did he maintain that lie on his deathbed? If he had done something terrible in that bedroom, wouldn't guilt be a reason to accept the consequences? But if he hadn't done anything — if he had just stumbled in drunk from the bathroom — then protecting Percy makes even less sense. Why would you protect a man who shot you for no reason?

Why didn't anyone call the police? If Geneva was assaulted at 4:30 in the morning, why didn't a former law enforcement officer pick up the phone and report it? Thirteen hours passed. Not a single call. Not a single report. Instead, Percy drove to Chickasha, went to work, and came home.

And why did Percy bring the gun to the gas station? He said he was taking Geneva for a ride. Why did he have a .45 in the car? He claims the shooting was spontaneous, that Downs provoked him and jumped at him. But he had the gun.

I don't think we'll ever know the full truth of what happened in that bedroom at 4:30 in the morning. County Attorney Morris believed Downs stumbled in drunk from the bathroom. Percy believed Downs tried to assault his wife. Geneva said "he was trying to" but then didn't want Percy to act on it. And Downs himself never said a word about it, except to lie about the shooting until the day he died.

What I do know is this: an 8-year-old girl woke up in her mother's bed, scared, and was sent back to bed. A 27-year-old basketball player was shot in a chair at a gas station and died insisting it was an accident. A 26-year-old mother collapsed in a courtroom. And a 37-year-old man was sent to the penitentiary for five years.

The newspapers called it an honor slaying. But I'm not sure where the honor is.

[PRODUCTION NOTE: Pause / beat]

In May of 1934, Percy Merrick got his day before the appeals court. He lost. The conviction stood. He served his time.

And then — life went on. Percy and Geneva stayed together. They moved on from all of it. They built whatever kind of life you build after something like this. Percy made it to about fifty years old before he fell ill and passed away. Geneva lived into her eighties. Both of them are buried in Bethany, Oklahoma. Same town. Same ground. Whatever happened in that bedroom in 1933, whatever was said and whatever was left unsaid — they carried it together to the end.

If you know anything about the Merrick or Downs families, or if you have anything that might fill in the pieces we're still missing — who Henry Downs really was, what happened to little Marcheta — I would love to hear from you. And if you have an idea for a future true crime case you'd like us to dig into, reach out to me at TrueCrime.Blog. I'm always looking for the next forgotten story.

Thank you all for listening to this episode of Forgotten True Crime. If you enjoyed it, please subscribe, leave a review, and share it with someone who loves true crime. Check out the blog at TrueCrime.Blog for the original newspaper clippings, photos of Percy and Geneva Merrick, and the full timeline of the case. All the links are in the description below.

Until next time, I'm Trevor with Okie Investigations. Stay safe out there. Just know you are unique, you are special and you are loved.

SOURCES

All sources are newspaper clippings accessed via Newspapers.com.

[1] The Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma City, OK), Sunday, April 16, 1933, Pages 9-10.

[2] The Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma City, OK), May 9, 1933 (pre-trial reference).

[3] Muskogee Daily Phoenix and Times-Democrat (Muskogee, OK), Monday, April 17, 1933, Page 6.

[4] The Enid Morning News (Enid, OK), Wednesday, April 19, 1933.

[5] Maud Enterprise (Maud, OK), Thursday, April 20, 1933, Page 4.

[6] The Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma City, OK), Monday, May 8, 1933, Page 14.

[7] Shawnee Evening Star (Shawnee, OK), Tuesday, May 9, 1933.

[8] The Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma City, OK), Tuesday, May 9, 1933, Page 2.

[9] Shawnee Evening Star (Shawnee, OK), Wednesday, May 10, 1933, Page 1.

[10] The Daily Oklahoman (Oklahoma City, OK), Wednesday, May 10, 1933, Page 1.

[11] The Oklahoma News (Oklahoma City, OK), Thursday, May 11, 1933, Page 1.