Pat Garrett shot Henry McCarty. Just a poor Irish kid from New York. Dead. I know. I’m always telling these stories where people get hung, or shot, or pushed down some fiery volcano as a human sacrifice.
But you’ve all heard this story before. I never really think of Billy the Kid as an Irish boy, a New Yorker. But it is true. He was born there on either September 17 or November 23, 1859. I’m not sure why his birthday is so ambiguous, between these two rather distant dates. But that is the case.
They were a Catholic family too. His father, Patrick died by the time he was ten. His mother, Catherine nee’ Devine died when he was fourteen. But in those four years, after his father’s death, and before his mother’s, she moved the family from New York to Indianapolis, to Wichita, Kansas, to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Then to Silver City, New Mexico. She got remarried along the way. That’s a whole bunch of bustling around for a kid.
After his mom died, he took to the life of crime, doing things like stealing food and robbing a Chinese Laundry for clothes. From that point on, he was on a downward spiral of crime in every direction, cheating, thieving, and murdering.
McCarty was going around by the name William Bonney out there in New Mexico, then still a territory. He took up some work for a rancher guy, named John Tunstall. Doing ranching things, I suppose. At any rate, they were in Lincoln County, and in the town there, another guy named Lawrence Murphy had a big monopoly on all the businesses. Old Larry Murphy was a wealthy fellow, as a result of that heavy thumb.
So Billy the Kid’s boss, the rancher John, decided to open a store in Lincoln County. Competition for Larry Murphy, you see. And it set off a real power struggle, a bit of a hate war. In the thick of things, the rancher John was killed by a sheriff’s posse.
This made Henry McCarty, aka William Bonney, aka Billy the Kid, steaming hot mad. So he retaliated by ambushing and killing the sheriff and a deputy. From that point, he was truly a wanted man and went on the run for two years. Eventually, he was captured and jailed. But he escaped and was hiding out at Fort Sumner.
And that is when this other Sheriff, this Pat Garrett tracked him down to the fort and shot him. He was 22 years old when he died.
The entire 22 years were packed full of stories, filled with debauchery and crime. Today is the anniversary of his death.
It seems clear to me that Henry McCarty could see no other way to survive, then to turn to crime at an early age. From there it was a road of no return. I’m not excusing it, just stating a probable cause.
I can only wonder what my life would be, if I had been born into such a desperate situation.
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“Don’t compromise yourself – you’re all you have.”
― John Grisham, The Rainmaker
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“Poverty is the parent of revolution and crime.”
― Aristotle
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“For the powerful, crimes are those that others commit.”
― Noam Chomsky
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