Dark Dialogue: Gallows and Gunfights

The courtroom of the Old West is open — and our first witness is Billy the Kid.
In the debut of Dark Dialogue: Gallows and Gunfights, we strip away the dime-novel myths to uncover how Henry McCarty — a bright, polite boy from the slums of New York — became William H. Bonney, the young Regulator at the center of the Lincoln County War.
This episode follows his journey from crowded tenements in Manhattan to the rough mining town of Silver City, where hardship, loss, and survival forged the boy who would one day be called an outlaw. You’ll meet the Regulators as they first step onto the stage — Dick Brewer, Charlie Bowdre, Frank McNab, and Doc Scurlock — men caught between law and lawlessness, loyalty and bloodshed.
This isn’t Hollywood’s West. It’s the messy, brutal truth: where lawmen carried warrants one day and rifles the next, and justice was often written in smoke and gunpowder.
👉 Follow or subscribe on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or YouTube so you don’t miss the next session.👍 Leave us a review to help bring these forgotten histories into the light.📢 Share this episode with a friend who loves the Old West — and let them be the jury too.
Because in this courtroom of history, you decide: outlaw or lawman?

Show Notes

The courtroom of the Old West is open — and our first witness is Billy the Kid.

In the debut of Dark Dialogue: Gallows and Gunfights, we strip away the dime-novel myths to uncover how Henry McCarty — a bright, polite boy from the slums of New York — became William H. Bonney, the young Regulator at the center of the Lincoln County War.

This episode follows his journey from crowded tenements in Manhattan to the rough mining town of Silver City, where hardship, loss, and survival forged the boy who would one day be called an outlaw. You’ll meet the Regulators as they first step onto the stage — Dick Brewer, Charlie Bowdre, Frank McNab, and Doc Scurlock — men caught between law and lawlessness, loyalty and bloodshed.

This isn’t Hollywood’s West. It’s the messy, brutal truth: where lawmen carried warrants one day and rifles the next, and justice was often written in smoke and gunpowder.

👉 Follow or subscribe on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or YouTube so you don’t miss the next session.
👍 Leave us a review to help bring these forgotten histories into the light.
📢 Share this episode with a friend who loves the Old West — and let them be the jury too.

Because in this courtroom of history, you decide: outlaw or lawman?

★ Support this podcast on Patreon ★

What is Dark Dialogue: Gallows and Gunfights?

Gallows & Gunfights explores the real history of the American frontier—where violence, survival, and reputation shaped life in the Old West.

Hosted by Dark Dialogue creator John McColl, the series examines the outlaws, lawmen, and conflicts that defined the era, separating documented events from the myths that grew around them.

From the Lincoln County War and Billy the Kid to lesser-known cases buried in frontier history, each episode breaks down what actually happened—and what didn’t.

Gallows & Gunfights focuses on one goal: cutting through legend to uncover the truth behind the West.

John: The creek of wooden floorboards
echo three packed courtroom, A

gavel slams sharp as a rifle shot.

Dust modes drift in the sunlight,
cutting through tall windows.

Onlookers lean forward.

Straining to hear the case
before the court today.

The American West.

Welcome to Dark Dialogue,
gallows and Gunfights.

This is where the old west stands trial,
not the west that you saw on Saturday.

Matton Maze where
sheriffs wore white hats.

Outlaws wore black ones and
justice rode in right on schedule.

But the real west, the
bloody complicated west.

The West where the same man might
be a lawman one year outlaw the

next where corruption war badge
as often as it drew a six shooter.

And where Myth has replaced
fact for far too long.

This is the newest show in
the Dark Dialogue family.

If the flagship digs into unsolved crimes
and modern mysteries and Rocky Mountain

Reckoning, reconstructs cold cases on the
frontier, gallows and gunfights is about

peeling back the legend of the old West.

And putting it under oath.

The format is simple.

We treat history like testimony.

Every story is a case.

Every outlaw, lawman, cattle baron, and
guns slinger takes the stand in the court

of history, the evidence, court records,
depositions, eyewitness accounts, and

the bloody paper tr left in their wake.

And you the listener.

Sit in the gallery jury to it all because
let's be clear, the history you've

been told isn't always the history
that really was Hollywood gave us.

John Wayne riding tall Gary Cooper,
standing fierce at high noon.

Clint Eastwood drifting into town with
justice and vengeance and equal measure.

These are powerful myths,
but the true stories, they're

far murkier and far darker.

Take Billy the kid, you've
heard the name, A boy outlaw in

desperado with a sheer beauty.

Korean, a killer of men, shot dead
at 21 by the long arm of the law.

That's the story anyway, but
look closer In February, 1878,

Billy wasn't an outlaw at all.

He was a deputized lawman,
sworn in as a constable.

Badged pinned to his chest, legally
authorized to serve arrest warrants.

He rode not as a fugitive, but
as an officer of the court.

A month later, the same territorial
government stripped that authority

away, and the very same man
become, became a wanted criminal.

Which Billy was real, the outlaw
or the lawman, or was he both?

Or?

Wyatt Earth Tombstone made him famous
as the stoic Marshall who faced

down the Cowboys at the OK Corral.

But years earlier in Wichita,
Kansas, Wyatt had been arrested

for stealing a horse in Dodge City.

He was fined for running illegal
gambling operations, and after tombstone,

he drifted into bounty hunting,
race fixing and shitty oil deals.

Hero, hustler, or hired gun depends
on who you ask and when you ask Pat

Garrett, the man who killed Billy,
the kid was held as the law's savior

in New Mexico, but Garrett was
no pure knight in shining spurs.

He was accused of intimidating voters
stealing cattle and working backroom deals

with the very outlaws that he was supposed
to stop his famous biography of Billy

the Kid Ghostwritten, sensationalized.

And likely a self-serving work of fiction
was Garrett, the Honest Sheriff, or just

another player in the same bloody game.

Even Wild Bill Hickok, the
archetype of a gunfighter.

Laman lived on both sides of the badge.

In Kansas, he wore a star enforcing wow
with his pistols in Missouri, he made his

living as a gambler and a gun for hire.

He killed some men under the color of law,
others over debts or drunken quarrels.

He was admired for his charm and feared
for his hair trigger temper the truth.

He was all of it at once.

That's the theme we'll return to again
and again in Gallows and Gunfights.

The West wasn't a morality play.

It was a chess board where law,
politics, money and violence intersected.

And the same man who stood as
Guardians of order often thrived

in the shadows of disorder.

Nowhere is this clearer than in
New Mexico's Lincoln County War.

On paper, it was a business
dispute, one morill monopoly

against another upstart competitor.

In reality, it was a battlefield where
hired guns, politicians, sheriffs,

and future legends of out Lowery
carved Lincoln County into Graves.

The conflict birth.

The regulators, half
deputies, half vigilantes.

Who Swo to avenging murdered
Rancher named John Tunstall.

Among them, Billy, the kid on the
other side stood the house, an Irish

mercantile monopoly led by Lawrence
Murphy, James Dolan, and John

Riley backed by the Santa Fe ring.

The most powerful all of warriors
and politicians in the territory.

Their allies, Sheriff's William Brady.

Judges willing to sign away justice
and hired guns like Jesse Evans boys

and John Kinney's, Rio Grande Posse.

The Lincoln County War
was not good versus evil.

It was monopoly versus competition.

Corruption versus resistance with
plenty of blood spilled on both sides.

And it is here in this war that Billy,
the kids, stepped onto the stage.

Not yet as a legend.

But as a pawn in a much bigger
game, over the course of this arc,

we will call this, we will call
to the stand every major figure.

Dolan Murphy, Riley, MCW, Tunstall,
Brady, Chisholm, Dudley, Catron, Axl.

And of course, Billy himself will cross
examine their lives, their choices,

their crimes, and their alliances.

We'll weigh the testimony of survivors
like George Co. The memoirs of Susan

MCs, Swen, and the damning reports
of investigators like Frank Egg Now,

and we'll ask the central question,
was there ever truly a difference

between outlaw and laman in Lincoln
County or in the old West at all?

Because when a man could be a
deputy on Monday and an outlaw

by Friday and a sheriff the next
year, what does justice even mean?

This is where gals and gunfights begins.

The courtroom is open, the jury is
seated, the old west is under oath.

Court is now in session.

Angela: Hey Angela, how sleep going today?

Hi, John.

It's good.

How are you?

I'm

John: good.

I'm great.

Actually, zero complaints

Angela: three days in a row.

You can say.

Great.

Zero complaints.

Yeah,

John: it's kind of cool, huh?

Angela: I'm liking it.

John: I'm not complaining either.

So what are your thoughts on
this new endeavor I cooked up?

Angela: am interested.

I am a little upset that you're
gonna be shattering the illusions

that I have on some of these people
because some of the illusions are fun.

John: They are fun and prerequisite.

Have you seen young guns?

Angela: No.

John: Oh my God.

Angela: Should I leave again?

Get

John: out.

Angela: Get out.

Right.

John: I can't believe you
haven't seen young guns.

Angela: I probably have.

When I was really, really little.

John: They're getting ready
to make young guns three.

Angela: Wow.

John: With Emilio Estevez.

Lout.

Diamond Phillips.

Angela: Really?

John: Yeah.

They coming back,

Angela: huh?

John: Yeah.

And uh, what's his nuts too from pump up?

The volume and, uh,

Angela: Christian Slater?

John: Yeah.

Yeah, I've seen

Angela: that one.

John: Unfortunately, Keefer
Sutherland doesn't seem to be in the

lineup, but other than that, maybe

Angela: he doesn't want to,

John: but still pretty damn good to get
those three back after this many years.

I mean, I can't remember when it
came out, but it was in the eighties.

Yeah, it was a long time ago.

Angela: Yeah, so I, I probably
have seen it like with my

family watching it and I just.

Was coloring and not paying attention.

John: Such a good,

Angela: but not recently.

John: Very good movie.

Angela: Not enough to quote it.

John: So for you and the rest of

the listeners that haven't, I
would suggest watching it because

I'm gonna be referring to that
movie throughout this arc.

I'm Billy the Kid.

Okay, well because it is actually,
that does not help me now John.

It is actually pretty freaking
historically accurate.

I mean, Hollywood took some
liberties in it for sure, but

it's pretty historically accurate.

Youngun's too.

A little less accurate, but

Angela: still, I'm gonna say this
is information you probably should

have told me yesterday, so I would've
watched it last night and been prepared.

John: What movie is

that from?

Angela: What

John: this would've been
good information yesterday.

I'm have to think on that.

'cause that is definitely,
I thought I was about

Angela: to be an trouble.

John: So.

Anyway.

You ready?

Spending my life in trouble.

Learn all about this.

Angela: I

John: feel like

Angela: we need to get you a gavel.

John: We might need to.

Yeah, we might need

to.

So, listeners, welcome to Dark
Dialogue, gallows and Gunfights.

The show where the Old West takes the
witness stand and every outlaw, laman, and

forgotten soul is put on trial by history.

Angela: We're not here.

Totell Dime, novel myths
or Hollywood legends.

We're here to dig into the records,
the testimonies, and the messy

truth, where the line between lawman
and outlaw was often paper thin.

John: Exactly.

In this courtroom of the past,
reputations rise and fall.

Some who wore badges also broke laws.

Some branded as Outlaws.

We're simply survivors
of a corrupt system.

We're here to separate myth from evidence.

Angela: And before we dive into
today's case, let's remind you, if

you're listening on Spotify, apple
Podcasts, YouTube, or anywhere

else, hit that follow or subscribe
buttons so you don't miss a session.

John: It's free.

It's free.

Exactly.

And if you're on YouTube,
give us a thumbs up.

If you're on Spotify or
Apple, leave us a review.

And wherever you are, share this
show with someone who loves the

Old West, the real Wild West.

Not the polished version, not

Angela: the uh, will Smith's
Wild Wild West version.

John: my God.

That movie just uh ah, ah.

As good as young guns was it just
made him make faces is as bad

as that dumb ass freaking movie
was that That thing is terrible.

Angela: It was supposed to be,
it's like anything Millbrook's

does they supposed to be No.

John: Berg's movies are at least comic.

That's true.

Funny.

And I mean they like Really?

They would never be made today?

No.

'cause they dread the lie of political
correctness and that movie just sucked.

Angela: It just was dumb.

I was more so talking about
his music video though.

John: I don't know anything about that.

Angela: Sorry.

Moving on.

Your support spreads the word
knows this community and keeps

us bringing these cases to light.

John: Now Court is in session.

Today we turn to Lincoln County,
New Mexico, where a young Englishman

named John Henry Tunstall dared to
challenge the monopoly of Murphy

and Dolan and paid with his life

Angela: his murder lit the spark for
one of the bloodiest conflicts in

frontier history, the Lincoln County War.

And from those ashes Rosa figure,
who would become both legend

and lightning Rod Billy the kid.

John: So Angela, why don't you start us
off with a little location information,

which is as much a surprise to you
as it is for everyone else but me.

Angela: Oh, I love that.

A little like I'm sitting here
going pages, pages, pages.

I'm just kidding.

John: Yeah.

I give you a little bit to read.

Angela: Just a little.

John: You're out of practice.

I figured.

Angela: Even practice.

Oh, you are a slave driver.

John: I know.

Angela: New York City in
1959 was not the towering 18.

No.

John: Pretty sure it was 18.

Angela: Dad, blast it.

John,

I'll read what I wanted.

John: I mean, unless we're gonna
tell the listeners that Billy

the kid was like a greaser.

Yeah.

Crowding with the SOS
or something like that.

It's,

Angela: it's, and Crips
and whatnot, you know.

All right.

We'll do it John's way.

I'll read it correctly.

Let's make it bigger.

'cause apparently I'm old
and I can't see the words.

New York City in 1859, thank

Music: you.

Angela: Was not the towering
metropolis we know today, but

it was already a restless giant.

The city was swelling
with immigrants industry.

Innovation while simmering with
tension, poverty, and violence.

It was here in this turbulent, turbulent
environment that Henry McCarthy better

known to history as Billy the kid
was born into the Irish immigrant

community of the Lower East Side.

By the late 1850s, New York was rapidly
expanding northward, the Croton aqueduct.

John: I think the Croton,

Angela: Croton, Croton Aqueduct
had begun supplying clean water.

The Otis Elevator made taller
buildings possible and Central

Park open to the public.

In 1859, the same year, Billy the kid
entered the world, but while the city's

elites strolled landscaped paths uptown
and Lower East Side was a different story.

The Lower East Side was a different story.

Tenements cellars and alleys crammed with
poor immigrant families, many living in

conditions that bred disease and despair.

The contrast between polished
wealth and grinding poverty

defined the city's atmosphere.

The city was alive with conflict.

Five Points was infamous as a cauldron of
gangs, ethnic tension and violent riots.

Irish immigrants, like Billy's family
were often tr trapped in neighborhoods

marked by overcrowding and hostility,
the so-called piggery district.

I have never heard that

John: before.

No, no.

Have you watched Gangs
of Gangs of New York?

Really?

Oh my gosh.

He's about to kick me out again, folks.

Yeah.

You haven't seen that movie?

I haven't.

Angela: It's not out of, not intention.

I just haven't,

John: it is so good.

I just haven't

Angela: yet.

John: Danielle D. Lewis and,

uh, I think Gene Hackman's in that.

Believe Gene Hackman.

I believe Gene Hackman and Daniel Day
Lewis are like the opposing gang leaders.

It all takes part in the Five points.

Yeah.

They fight each other.

I mean, and the dude, the dumb ass dude
from um, like Stepbrothers, the one

that plays with Will Ferrell, that guy.

Angela: Oh, why can't I remember his name?

All

John: He's in that and that
other douche bag that I don't

like DiCaprio, he's in there.

Angela: You know, like Leo.

John: No, it is like a, it is
a lot of really great, it's

a freaking awesome movie.

Well worth the watch.

Angela: Well, I'm not
avoiding it on purpose.

John: We're gonna just have, start
having movie nights crying out loud.

This is getting out of control.

Angela: is gonna hold me down.

Block work, orange style
with my eyes pried open.

John: Yep.

Angela: The so-called piggery district
was notorious for its shanties and

pig farms where hogs roamed freely
through the muck field streets in 1859.

I'm gonna do that every time.

1859. City leaders forcibly
cleared these livestock pens.

A small but symbolic attempt to
civilize what reformers saw as

chaotic disease ridden quarter.

These were the surroundings of Billy's
infancy, harsh, dirty, and dangerous.

On November 23rd, 1859, Catherine
McCarthy and Irish immigrant gave

birth to her son at what historians
believe was 70 Allen Street.

His father disappeared leaving
William Anin Catherine's companion

to fill the role of a surrogate
father while running a fruit stand.

These humble beginnings are far removed
from the myths of the frontier outlaw.

For the first years of his life, Billy's
world wasn't the desert or open range.

It was the crowded, chaotic streets
of Manhattan's Irish quarter

for working class immigrants.

Life meant scraping by tenements
were overcrowded, sanitation, nearly

non-existent and outbreaks of disease.

Common reformers were just beginning
to argue against cellar dwellings,

which were often dark, damp,
and unfit for human habitation.

Public health measures lagged far
behind population growth, and the

McCarthy's would have experienced
firsthand the struggles of of

survival in an unforgiving city.

By 1859, new York's population
was nearing 800,000.

A staggering figure for the time
though dwarfed by today's 8.2

million residents and more than
19 million in the metro area.

Crime was rampant.

In 1860, the city recorded nearly
66,000 arrests and 57 homicides with

gang wars and public drunkenness.

Common.

The NYPD only 14 years old,
was struggling with corruption

and overwhelmed by the chaos.

In contrast, by 2025 New York averages
fewer than one murder per day with major

felonies, a historic at historic lows.

Compared to the 1980s and
1990s, crime reporting and

policing are professionalized.

But in Billy's day, violence was woven
into the very fabric of the city.

When we picture Billy the Kid, we
imagine the dusty frontier gunfights.

The outlaw legend.

But his story begins in a New York
City teaming with immigrants, gangs

and social upheaval, a city where
survival was itself a daily fight.

The same forces that shaped the city's
Irish immigrant communities also shaped

the boy who would one day become the
most famous outlaw of the American West.

John: Thank you, Angela.

You're welcome.

And you know, full disclosure here, these
are, these are gonna be interesting and

fun to do, but you know, I'm doing the
best I can with getting the information.

But you know, it's like William Antrim.

Uh, she might have met him in New York,
but she might have met him in Indianapolis

and she might have met him in Wichita.

And we don't really know.

And there's like.

575 William Rums and trying
to figure out which one fits.

And he's

Angela: just a fruit stand guy
who was just hanging around

John: that Well, that's just
one of the stories there.

Okay.

There are others and, and we'll be talking
about like Billy and his brother Joseph.

And we think that Joseph was older than
Billy, but he might've been younger.

I mean, when you're dealing with old
this old of history and the records were

absolute shit back then, it's really
hard to, you can't, there's a lot of

this stuff we just don't accurately know.

You know,

Angela: somebody's grandma wrote
all this down and it's just

in a cell somewhere reading

John: probably, there was just
recently a picture found that we

think is Billy the kid and it would
only be the second picture of him.

Music: Wow.

John: And so it hasn't
fully been confirmed to me,

never fully been confirmed.

Confirmed.

But it is thought to be another
picture of Billy the kids.

So it's pretty cool.

So beginning this, uh, like I said
in the beginning, I'll kind of set

the scene a little bit, but this is
gonna be kind of like a courtroom.

So the charge a boy abandoned
too soon who grew into an outlaw

the frontier could never forget

before he was Billy, the kid before
the Jailbreaks and the Gunfights.

He was Henry McCarty, a bright,
polite, Irish kid, born into the

slums of New York City in 1859.

His exact birthday, lost to history.

Some say September.

Others.

November.

A baptismal record from St.
Peter's Catholic Church dated

late September is the closest
thing that we have to certainty.

But what matters isn't the date.

It's the setting.

A child born into a city that
didn't care if he lived or starved.

The McCarty's lived in the tenement,
dark, overcrowded, wreaking with

sewage, the kind of housing where
every cough carried down the hallway.

Catherine, his mother, scraped by
through menial jobs, taking what work

an Irish immigrant widow could get.

Violence was common, alcohol
cheaper than bread, and children

learned early to fight or disappear.

For Henry and his younger brother
Joseph, possibly older childhood

meant running errands, dodging older
gangs of boys, and watching neighbors

waste away from disease or drink.

As for Henry's father.

That's a ghost story.

Patrick McCarty is sometimes
named, but records don't agree.

Some say he died in New York,
others placed him in Indiana.

Still, others believe
he simply walked out.

Another Irish Hemi crushed by the pro
poverty and prone to vanishing for Henry.

The result was the same.

A boy left behind.

He lost his father twice, once to
death and once to indifference.

Angela: After Billy the kid's birth
in New York, his family spent time

in Indiana, a place far different
from the chaotic lower East side.

In the late 1850s and early 1860s,
Indianapolis was a modern or modest

Midwestern capital, steadily growing, but
still closer to a frontier town than a

bustling metropolis for a boy who would
one day be remembered as an outlaw.

These years were spent in a
quieter setting shaped by farmland,

churches, and small town rhythms.

By 1860, Indianapolis counted
just 18,611 residents with

Marion County at around 39,855.

The numbers merely doubled within a
decade showing how rapidly the city was

drawing in people trade and opportunity.

Compare that to today when Indianapolis.

Indianapolis, let's emphasize all
the Sallows when Indianapolis is

home to nearly 877,000 people and
the metro area nears 2 million.

No thank you.

Yeah, and Billy's childhood, though
the capitol was still small enough

that neighbors knew one another
and major events could ripple

through the entire community.

Indianapolis was still defining itself.

Streets were tree-lined.

The town core was developing, and farms or
wooded hills sat just beyond city limits.

Civic life revolved around churches,
schools, and small businesses.

As the state capital, Indianapolis
was beginning to attract political

and economic attention, but it lacked
the industrial chaos of New York.

Life was steadier, slower and more local.

Yet change was clearly underway as
railroads and comm commerce pushed

through, pushed the city forward.

Crime in 1860s in Indianapolis was nothing
like the gang wars of five points or

the violent unrest of the larger cities.

Population density was lower in
poverty while present, didn't

concentrate into explosive slums.

Most arrests involved petty theft,
drunkenness, or neighborhood disputes.

Major crimes like homicide were rare, were
rare enough to be individually recorded

in local papers and courthouse ledgers.

The city's law enforcement structure
was basic, relying more on local

justice than large organized policing.

Fast forward to today, and
Indianapolis is a very different story.

In 2024, the city logged 209 homicides,
marking the fifth year above 200.

By the first half of 2025, though
numbers had dropped nearly 30% with

57 homicides from January to June.

Property crime and assault and assaults
remain pressing issues, but the scale

of urban crime today is dramatically
larger, reflecting the city's

massive growth and modern challenges.

In Billy's childhood, Indianapolis
was a close-knit community.

Churches anchored social life,
small businesses sustained families,

and most people still lived within
walking distance of farmland.

Violence was rare, and when it
happened, it became local lore.

Compare that to modern Indianapolis,
a sprawling metropolitan hub,

diverse and complex where law
enforcement is professionalized.

Crime tracking is systematic, and
the challenges of poverty, drugs, and

inequality echo across neighborhoods.

Billy the kids, Indiana years placed
him in a very different environment

than his birthplace in New York.

Here, instead of riots and gang
warfare, he would've seen fields,

churches, and quiet streets.

Yet Indianapolis was
also a city on the rise.

Growing fast, changing quickly, and
setting the stage for the restless

movement westward, that would've
eventually shaped his destiny.

John: Building the kid's family life
in Indiana was shaped by his mother and

Catherine McCarty's determination and
entrepreneurial spirit, which stood out

as remarkable for a woman of the period.

Catherine managed a laundry business
and acquired significant real estate

and uncommon accomplishment for a woman
in the 1860s, which provided her sons

a stable if modest home environment.

And you know, it's really interesting
'cause I've been reading about Billy

the Kid for pretty much my whole life.

I've probably read at
least five or six books.

That said that she was a prostitute
and that he was basically a

homeless orphan all of his life.

Angela: That's what I have memories of.

John: Yeah, not at all.

She was actually a pretty
freaking outstanding woman.

Especially well good
on her period of time.

So in Indianapolis, Catherine was
known for running a hand laundry, often

mentioned in local histories and archives.

She also bought and owned land,
sometimes purchasing property.

Adjacent to her partner, William
Antrim Holdings, and later sold

multiple lots in a sizable farm
before the family's move west.

Her ability to independently own land
and operate a business set her apart

and provided rare ocon, rare economic
security for her two sons, Billy or

Henry and Joseph, who went by Josie.

Angela: Do we know how we thought Billy?

John: We will.

Angela: Okay, good.

I need to know

John: with within Marion County in later
Wichita, those who visited Catherine's

household described a welcoming
environment, praising her hospitality

and the upbringing of her voice.

She was noted as the only woman to sign
the 1870 petition to incorporate the

city of Wichita, a sign of her respected
status and involvement in civic life.

Though she faced the dual burdens of
widowhood and single motherhood, her

refor, her resourcefulness gained, or
the admiration of many in the community.

Now, Billy is a boy in Indiana.

He was known then as Henry,
and he lived with his widowed

mother and her and his brother.

So while Miss sometimes paints Billy
as wild from an early age, historical

evidence indicates that he was viewed
by teachers, neighbors, and classmates

as a polite and very bright child.

He likely attended local
school and later accounts note.

His precocious and his
ability to read well.

Traits admired by his acquaintances in
youth and confirmed later by biographers.

Although records of specific interactions
with teachers and classmates are sparse.

Billy was remembered in his childhood
as mischievous but not malicious.

Embodying the.

Gayman and a Pucky Street kid
more charming than threatening.

Catherine was respected as a single mother
who made her household a warm gathering

place, and Billy was described as
possessing a frank open continence and was

remembered as an intelligent social child,
not as an outcast or a troublemaker.

Local records suggest the McCarty
family was viewed sympathetically and

positively, especially considering
their Irish immigrant status and

Catherine's unique achievement.

So in summary, life for Billy, the kids'
family in Indiana was characterized

by Catherine's rare independence in
land and business and supported home

environments, and a reputation for
respectability with young Billy looked

upon as a capable and likable kid within
his community and his school, and so.

Catherine just started this
business in town, and it was a hand

laundry, but she worked her ass off.

These guys would bring
their filthy ass clothes.

And this is the day
where it was Wash Basins.

Mm-hmm.

And Washboards.

Yep.

And she would work her ass off all
day long scrubbing these clothes.

And then they said that during the summer
she had clothes lines all over where she

would hang the clothes to dry, but in the
wintertime she'd have to drag them all the

way up to the attic where she had clothes
lines strung over in the attic so that

she could hang them all up there and dry.

And then William Rum bought a piece
of ground outside of town, but it

wasn't very long before Catherine
bought the neighboring property.

And then she bought several
neighboring properties.

She was just kind of building
her land, her empire.

William Rum was doing the same thing.

So the couple had bought
significant land holding.

That's pretty cool.

Before they left Indianapolis.

And so.

Catherine refused to let the city
bury her children, and in 1865 she

packed up Henry and Josie and pushed
West and it could have, and Josie.

Huh?

And Josie.

That's what he went by.

It was Julie, but he went by Josie.

Yeah.

So, got it.

Henry and Josie.

And she, it, it was said that
it might have been that the

city was impacting her kids.

She didn't want 'em to get
in trouble and stuff, but.

This was also when she was
diagnosed with tuberculosis.

And so working in the laundry,
in the humidity and stuff.

In the laundry, yeah.

Would've aggravated that.

Mm-hmm.

And so it's likely that her doctors
told her, which was very common,

Angela: go somewhere dry.

John: Yeah.

Go to Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico.

I mean, Colorado became a ha.

Angela: Yes, it did.

John: For what they
call Lungers back then.

Mm-hmm.

She was a lunger, and so they probably
told her, you need to go west and

maybe you'll live a bit longer.

Mm-hmm.

So that is the most likely reason
that they decided to leave.

And so they left Indianapolis
and then we're in Kansas,

in Wichita, Kansas by 1870.

And each stop was a gamble.

Better climate, cheaper land,
steadier work for a time.

They even went and lived in Denver.

And so it's not.

We can't say absolutely certain
that they lived in Denver.

Mm-hmm.

But one of the guys that we're gonna
be talking about who actually was in

the Lincoln County War with Billy, then
he didn't die and he lived on, and he

died in like the thirties or something
like that would go on to say that

Billy told him stories about living
in Denver for a short period of time.

So very likely they had
a short stay in Denver.

And like many Irish families,
they followed faint trails of

opportunity often where other
immigrants had already settled.

And so along the way, Katherine,
somewhere along here, she met William,

uh, William Henry Harrison rum.

And this was definitely
before India or Indianapolis.

And.

Or in Indianapolis, one of the two.

Right?

Because they were most certainly a
couple in Indianapolis, and he was no

knight in shining armor, but he provided
companionship, if not much stability.

By 1873, the family had reached
Santa Fe, Catherine already coughing

from tuberculosis, married Antrim
at the First Presbyterian church.

Henry and Josie were there watching
as their mother tied her fate to a

man who would later abandoned them.

And then from there they headed
to Silver City, a rock mining town

perched on the edge of the desert.

Forget any image of safety.

Silver City was a
frontier, was a frontier.

Crossroads of miners, drifters, gamblers,
and saloons and the McCarty's are now.

The rumms lived in a modest
cabin on Main Street.

Their neighbors more often brawlers
and drinkers than stable families.

So like we said, Billy, the kid was born
Henry McCarty and he spent his formative

teenage years in Silver City, New Mexico,
a period crucial to his transformation.

From that quiet student and
into an infamous outlaw Silver

City in the early 1870s was a
rugged, fast growing mining town.

Still surrounded by wilderness and
marked by lawlessness and opportunity.

Billy, his mother, Catherine, and his
stepfather William Antrim, arrived in

Silver City in 1873, seeking a climate
to ease Catherine's tuberculosis.

Silver City was a lively community
centered around the silver mining

boom, full of saloons, mercantil,
basic churches and cabins.

Catherine quickly established herself
renting and baking to support her sons

and running a laundry for extra income.

Their home was a modest log
cabin, and daily life involved.

Plenty of work for both Billy and
his younger or older brother Joseph.

Angela: So she went to a better
climate, but still running laundry.

John: Yeah, but it's gonna be a lot
different in New Mexico than it was.

Angela: mean, true.

But still.

John: Okay.

I mean, yeah, she did what she had to do.

I mean, yeah, make money for her.

You do know.

So Billy and Joseph attended
local schools, A point that

marks Billy as more settled and
literate than legend would suggest.

Right.

Teachers described him as polite,
helpful, and a competent student

who enjoyed singing and reading.

Billy.

Yeah, he was also remembered as quote, no
more trouble than any of the other boys.

He was willing to do odd jobs
and generally trustworthy.

Notably, a hotel manager
claimed that Billy was the only

kid who never stole from him.

Angela: Okay.

John: Socially, Billy
integrated with other children

and this part is really key.

He learned Spanish fluently during
this period of time, which would

help him tremendously later in life.

And he adopted the customs of the
local Mexican American population,

including their dance and their music.

And it said that he
absolutely loved the culture.

He loved their, the way they dressed.

He loved their language, he loved
the way they danced and their music.

He loved everything about them.

Angela: More of the stories that
I hear about him or know about

him, he's more that than Irish,

John: very much so.

Angela: So when, when you were starting
to say Irish, I was like, what?

Yep.

John: But

Angela: yeah.

And

John: just

Angela: the process and keep going.

John: Yep.

So, but unfortunately for Billy, and
I mean really for history, because

we would not know Billy that at all.

We probably wouldn't know a thing
about him if it wasn't for this.

And that is that in 1874, Catherine
Succumbeded to tuberculosis leaving

Billy age 14 at the time, and his brother
Joseph, either older or younger, orphaned,

William Antram, never a committed father,
sold the family home and placed the boys

in foster care before leaving for Arizona.

And I mean, in actuality,
he was in Arizona, Mike.

Yeah.

And then he just never came back.

Angela: And he was just like, eh.

John: Yeah, so Billy was forced into
menial jobs, washing dishes, waiting

tables, and living in boarding houses.

And this period marked the start
of his more precarious existence.

So descriptions from Silver City
portrayed Billy as Slender, about

five foot eight, 120 to 140 pounds
with clear blue eyes, smooth cheeks,

somewhat prominent front teeth and large
wrists that help him escape handcuffs.

Many times he was seen regular.

He was regularly seen in a sugar loaf,
sombrero with a decorative band, a

distinct fashion among local youth.

Billy was known for his lively
personality, enjoyment of dance and

song and humor, but his mother's
death loss and hardship definitely

hardened him for the struggles ahead.

And are you familiar with the
famous picture of Billy the Kid?

Kinda leaning on a gun.

He has a top hat on and,

Angela: uh, yeah, it sounds

John: so if you ever look at that
picture, he looks really homely.

Mm-hmm.

He looks ass at ugly actually.

Yeah.

In truth, um, everybody described
him as like a really handsome guy.

So it's just a shitty picture.

But it's interesting because it's
a tintype and so it was, tintypes

could be viewed either from
the backside or the front side.

Well, for years it was showing backwards,
so everybody thought he was left-handed.

Oh, the picture was backwards.

But when you turn the tin type around the
right way, he's actually right-handed.

But there's all kinds of stuff that
claim that he was left-handed true.

He wasn't left-handed.

But that's where that comes from.

So very interesting.

And obviously it's a kind
of a poor picture, you know?

Mm-hmm.

Because it's an old tin type.

Yeah.

That's the only thing that we have is,

Angela: and if everybody was
looking at it backwards the whole

time, of course it'd be ugly,

John: right?

Yeah.

So, but even the picture turned around,
he looks pretty home, but that is

not the descriptions that we have.

So he was actually described as
a really handsome guy that the

girls just kind of swooned over.

So swoon, there's a word.

Yeah.

So Silver City's crime environment
was chaotic with frequent minor

thefts, assault and drunken brawls.

Law enforcement was minimal
and often based on personal

relationships with the townspeople.

Billy's first notorious acts were
petty theft and his daring Joe

rig, and they were seen as youthful
rebellion rather than hardened

criminality in the tight-knit community.

So Billy left Silver City soon
after his jailbreak, finding little

support in increasingly turning to
outlaw ways for the rest of his life.

Silver City remained one of the few
places where Billy was seen, not

just as an outlaw, but as a likable,
intelligent and sympathetic youth.

So the verdict of time.

From that point on, silver
City was behind him.

He left on foot heading into
the desert, and by the spring of

1876, he would surface an Arizona
territory calling himself kid Antrum.

This was the turning.

The polite child remembered by
his school teachers was gone.

What remained was a boy without
parents, without a home, without

protection, a boy shaped by tenement,
slums, desert winds, and betrayals too

heavy for his age, and it's in that
crucible that the outlaw was forged.

Henry McCarty faded, and Billy
the kid, stepped into the light.

Pistol in hand, smile on his face, and
he is named etched forever into the

gallows record of the American frontier.

Talking about that side has Billy the
kid a little bit in the fall of 1875.

Henry McCarty was still more
child than criminal, but hunger.

And so, you know, just to kinda set the
scene, this is right after Antrim, his

stepdad just bailed on these two kids.

Yeah.

And you, you're leaving 14 year olds in
Silver City, New Mexico in the 1870s.

Just good luck.

Yeah.

You know, it wasn't like we had
welfare that could come in, step in

and help 'em out, you know, so they
were put into an impossible situation.

And you know, like I said,
hunger doesn't care about age.

It doesn't give a shit about.

Anything other than I'm
hungry and I want to eat.

And so on September the 16th, the first
anniversary of his mother's death,

Henry was arrested for stealing food.

It was survival, it wasn't greed.

Sheriff Harvey Whitehill locked him
up, but the offense barely registered

in the town where kids stole daily.

And the real turning point came.

Then 10 days after that, when Billy was
egged on by prankster George Schaefer.

And so Henry and a friend broke
into a Chinese laundry and they

took clothes and two pistols.

Not much loot, but in the west,
stealing firearms was no joke.

Still is.

Still.

Yeah, still.

And so Henry was tossed
into the Silver City jail.

And, but it's interesting because
he was so young, they didn't

actually put him in a cell.

They just kinda let him roam out in the
corridor, um, outside the cells and like a

Angela: cell daycare
situation, just, you know.

John: Yeah.

Essentially like it, like if you
think of the movie Green Mile.

Yeah.

You know, he is like, yeah,
we usually have a few lights

burning out in the corridor.

Well, Billy ran around
out in the corridor.

That's where he was running around at.

Okay.

And so, um, and so finally he just decided
that he wasn't gonna wait around anymore.

So the kid though, no one called
him that yet, he just climbed up the

jail's, chimney, wriggled into the
night and vanished into the desert.

And so the Silver City Herald carried
the story, his first appearance in

print, a local legend in the making.

The boy who'd slipped the bars like smoke.

Henry fled West to chloride flats and
then farther still in Silver City.

Never saw him again.

So by the spring of 1876,
Henry turned up in Arizona.

He was small, still youthful,
still boyish, and the nickname came

quickly, like I said before, kid
Antrim, he found work near camp Grant

wrangling, livestock, drifting between
ranches, gambling when he could.

But Arizona already was pulling
him toward crime and he fell in

with John r Mackey, who is a former
Calvary man, turned horse thi.

And together they ran horses off.

Soldiers gambling their
freedom for a quick profit.

And some stories claim that
Henry even clashed with Apaches.

During this time, an ambush in the
Guadalupe Mountains where he and Tom

O'Keeffe fought to save their lives is
the only confirmed instance of Billy

the kid in combat with Native Americans,
that it was a brush with death that

no doubt hardened his reputation even
more and trouble wasn't far behind.

So on March 25th, 1877, Henry and Mackey
were arrested for stealing calvary

horses and shackled under the name Kid
Antrim Henry was locked at Camp Grant,

but once again, he slipped the noose.

While guards were distracted at a local
dance, Henry broke free and disappeared.

Another escape, another
headline written in the dust.

So Billy, the Kids first recorded
killing of Frank Wendy Cahill was a

defining moment that irrevocably set
him on a path to being an outlaw legend.

And the incident took place on August the
17th, 1877 at the, at George Atkins Saloon

in Bonita Camp Grant in Arizona territory.

It was deeply shaped by the tense
social dynamics of the wild frontier.

So Billy the kid, and as we've said
over and over again, it gets confusing

'cause the freaking name changes.

It does,

Music: yeah.

John: At this time he's still going by
Henry McCarty and he was working as a

teamster at Camp Grand Army Post, and
he was slender, he was an affable team.

At this point, he is described as being
five foot eight and about 135 pounds.

So pretty slight guy.

He was well liked at the camp
for his wit and his sociability.

In sharp contrast, his antagonist, Frank
P Windy Cahill, was a large, muscular

and Ill tempered Irish immigrant who
is said to have stood about six foot

two and weighed 225 pounds, and he
was notorious for bullying, Billy both

verbally and physically, and kale, often
belittled Billy calling him a pimp, which

frustrated and embarrassed the younger
man in front of all of the other guys,

you know, and so on the night of August
the 17th, 1877, Billy and Cahill got

into yet another heated dispute during or
shortly after a poker game at the saloon.

Insults were traded.

Billy called Cahill a son of a
bitch, Cahill retaliated by picking

Billy up and slamming him to the
ground and then jumping on top of

him and beating him about the face.

And witnesses later said that Cahill
was attempting to quote, teach the

kid a lesson, using his size and
strength to humiliate him physically

so pinned and being brutally assaulted.

Billy managed in de desperation to wriggle
his hand to his revolver and he fired a

single shot hitting Cahill in the stomach.

He then squirmed free and fled the scene.

Cahill died on the following day from
the wound, and witnesses attested

that Billy acted in self-defense.

One recounted quote, he had no choice.

He had to use his equalizer.

Remarkably is Cahill Lee dying.

He reportedly stated that he was
responsible for the fight and so.

Though the law might have recognized
the context is self-defense.

Western Frontier Justice
was swift and unforgiving.

Murder justified or not,
was a hanging offense.

And Billy didn't wait for the authorities.

He fled Camp Grant immediately
becoming a fugitive.

So officially, local Justice Miles Wood
considered the killing unjustifiable

and issued a warrant for Billy's
arrest under the name Kid Antrum.

So by then, also known as William
h Bonnie and there is another name.

So yeah, Billy's, Billy snuck back a few
days later, but was caught and detained

in camp in the Camp Grant Car Guardhouse.

But before Laman could arrive to
transfer him, Billy escaped once

again and he crossed back into New
Mexico territory forever, branded

as an outlaw and a murderer.

So Billy, the kid's first killing
was both a tragic end point.

End point and a fateful beginning
of his journey as an outlaw.

I mean, it really is what
made him an outlaw, right?

Unveiling themes of survival,
lawlessness and frontier retribution that

pervaded his short, but infamous life.

And so I think, I think looking at
his story, it's very easy to say,

well, first of all, we have no clue.

But had he, he not killed Wendy Cahill,
I could see, uh, it's very likely that

he could have just gone on working and
maybe never would've become an outlaw.

Yeah, all, I mean, he had stolen horses
and stuff like that, but he was working

a job during this period of time.

He might've just gone straight,
but this killing really changed his

trajectory, but only the first time.

'cause there's another one
that's gonna change it.

Okay.

For a good.

But what KL did in Arizona closing in,
Henry fled back to New Mexico, but he

did not come back as Henry McCarty.

He came back as William h Bonnie.

So why that name?

The truth has been debated ever since.

Some say that he took William from
his stepfather, William Antrim, and

Bonnie from his mother's maiden name.

Others insist that Bonnie may have been
his father's true surname or that he

borrowed it from another family tie.

There are even accounts suggesting that
Catherine once married a man named William

Bonnie, but the records are unclear.

What is clear is that by the fall of 1877.

Henry understood something, and
that was his old name was dangerous.

McCarty was tied to arrests,
escapes, and a killing in Arizona.

So Kid Antrim was too easy to
trace and so to survive and to

confuse the law and maybe to start
again, he needed reinvention.

And so he became William h Bonnie.

Weird.

It was a practical step.

Outlaws and gamblers use aliases like
currency, but it was also symbolic

because with the name, with the name
change came a new chapter drifting into

the orbit of John Tunstall, a man who
gave him not just a job but dignity and

for abandoned so often that mattered.

Bonnie's new name carried weight.

It was severing.

It was the severing of ties with the
boy who once ran errands for neighbors

and wrote little stories in Silver
City, and it was the mark of an

outlaw stepping into history stage.

So by late 1877, Bonnie was riding
with Jesse Evans gang called The Boys,

and he was stealing cattle, running
with wrestlers, and moving between

Silla and seven Rivers country.

For a brief time, he even crossed paths
with the cattle barren John Chisholm,

a giant in the feud, already smoldering
against Murphy and Dolan's house.

Bonnie's Spanish gave him
reach that others did not have.

He could talk to Vaqueros Ranch hands
and Mexican settlers earning their trust.

He wasn't just another drifter, he was
a bridge between cultures, a bridge that

would matter when the shooting war came.

The faithful moment came when Billy
was caught stealing horses from

John Tin to John Henry Tunsell's
Ranch hauled off and jailed.

He might've expected what always
followed charges, time behind

bars, and maybe a hanging down the
line, but this time was different.

Tongue still himself came to the
jail and he was young himself,

only 24, but he carried himself
with the polish of his English

upbringing, where others saw thief.

He saw something else.

Billy was polite.

He was literate, he was sharp, witted,
respectful, even winning chains.

He didn't spit curses at authority.

He conversed with it.

Tunstall was struck enough to make a
decision that changed the boy's life.

He offered him work, real work,
a job as a cowboy and a gunman.

So instead of charges, Tunstall gave
Billy something that no one else

ever had, and that was a chance he
provided him with a horse, a saddle,

and a Winchester 73 rifle gifts, rare
enough on the frontier, but absolutely

astounding for a former horse thief.

And more than tools, they
were symbols of trust.

Billy accepted without hesitation,
and for the first time since his

mother's death, he wasn't just
drifting, he felt like he belonged.

Constable's generosity forged a
bond that would become unbreakable.

Billy came to see him as a father
figure, the first man he later

claimed, who treated him, quote
like I was decent and white.

End quote.

Tunstall saw something in Billy too.

He once said, quote, that's
the finest lead I ever met.

He's a revelation to me.

To me every day and would
do anything to please me.

I'm going to make a man
out of that boy yet.

End quote.

So on the ranch, Billy worked tirelessly.

He rode, he tended cattle.

He guarded property against the Murphy
Dolan's wrestlers, and quickly earned

the praise of Tunsell and his foreman.

Dick Brewer around campfires.

Tunsell told stories of England of
trade and ranching of how to manage

land with vision rather than with fear.

For Billy, it was like hearing from a
world that he'd never known and never

would have if it wasn't for Tunstall.

And in Brewer, Billy found not just
a boss, but a big brother with them.

He wasn't just a drifter or a
thief, he was part of a family.

So this period marked more
than just steady work.

It was the moment that Henry
McCarty, alias kid Antrum, fully

embraced the name William h Bonnie.

The name was a shield, a new identity
to match the new life that Constellate

offered, and whether Billy came from
family ties, his mother's maiden name,

or his stepfather's first name, or
was simply a convenient invention.

It didn't matter anymore because
it was his name now, and it

tied him to this new chapter.

The practical reason was survival.

Fugitives lived and died by aliases.

But for Billy, the timing mattered.

He took Bonnie as he took
Al's hand as a new beginning.

So the verdict of time in the
jailhouse mating two lives crossed

a young English rancher with vision
and wealth, and a runaway boy with

nothing but a quick smile, a faster
draw, and a hunger for dignity.

Tuntable gave Billy something no one
else had respect, a horse, a saddle,

a rifle, and above all, trust Billy
gave back what he always gave fiercely

and without hesitation, loyalty.

That loyalty would turn to vengeance
because when Tunstall was murdered

in February of 1878, it wasn't
just the killing of a rancher.

For Billy, it was the execution
of the only man who ever saw

the boy inside the outlaw.

And from that day forward, the
Lincoln County War was no longer

business or politics or monopoly.

For Billy, it was personal.

John Henry Tunsell was born on
March 6th, 1853 in Hackney, London.

His family prospered through international
trade and land speculation, wealthy

enough for comfort, but not aristocracy.

John grew up amid the genteel
order of ize park, well-schooled,

curious, and restless.

As a teenager, he followed his father to
British Columbia, where he learned the

rhythms of trade and property management.

These lessons, balancing books.

Judging land, calculating risk
would later guide his ventures

in the American southwest.

Tunstall wanted more
than inherited comfort.

He left England, drifting first
to Canada and then to California.

By 1876, he was drawn to New Mexico
where land was cheap, opportunity,

vast, and politics feral.

In Santa Fe, he met Alexander
MCs, Swen, who was a Canadian

born lawyer, estranged from his
former employers, Murphy and Dolan.

The two men, one with capital
with the other, with legal

expertise found common cause.

Both despised monopoly, both hungered
for a fair system in Lincoln.

With big Sweden at his side in
financial backing from Cattle King

John Chisholm Tunstall built a rival
empire, a store, a bank, a ranch.

His model was simple, fairer credit,
lower prices, and honest dealings.

And in the next episode we'll be
talking about the competition and,

but just quickly, just so everybody
understands, the Murphy Dolan

cabal was known as the House, okay?

And they were Irish
and they were Catholic.

And that becomes important because not
only does this become a war between

two rival companies, it was also
Catholics against the Protestants,

the same as the Irish War that
raged for years and years and years.

Okay?

So there's a lot going on here, but.

The Murphy Dolan faction was known
as the House, and they had basically

been here for quite some time.

They controlled all of the stores,
the banking, and there was a group

of politicians known as the Santa Fe
Ring, which were basically a bunch

of crooked bastards that just, and
so the Santa Fe ring was in bed with

the Murphy Dolan faction, who also
owned the sheriff's and the judges.

And then John Chisholm, who I
doubt you've ever seen that movie.

It's an old, it's an old
John Wake be Chisholm.

Really good one.

But that's the guy that
we're talking about.

Chisholm was actually more on
the side of the Mc Swen faction.

And so as we kind of go through
this, we're not gonna get into

the Murphy Dolan side tonight.

We'd be here all night.

We're gonna be here for a while anyway.

But we would definitely be here all night.

But just so to kind of set the ground, so.

You know, we understand all kind
of at least what's going on.

We have a monopoly currently set up, known
one as the House and Tons Limb, MC Swain.

Or basically trying to set
up the competition to that.

And their idea was, you know, they
were gonna offer credit the same as

the house did, but they were gonna
offer it on fairer terms, lower

interest, all of that kinda stuff.

And so that's all, that's also definitely
gonna cut into the house's business.

So that's the driving force behind what's
gonna become the Lincoln County War.

Okay.

So for small ranchers and vaqueros,
suffocated by Murphy and Dolan's terms,

Tunstall was salvation for the house.

He was an existential threat, his
cultural manner and protestantized

deep into ethnic rivalries.

Irish Catholic Monopoly
versus Anglo Protestant.

Upstart and Tunsil hired an armed loyal
cowboys for protection and among them

was a wiry Spanish speaking youth.

Knowing then as William h Poi and history
would remember him as Billy the Kid.

So we'll get into all a lot of the
stuff that, um, that happened during,

um, that led up to all of this.

So I'm just kind laying the
groundwork right now, but, um.

I gotta mention that on February
the 18th, 1878, John Town stole,

rode out with several hands and the
story is as broad as everything else.

So, you know, some people say he
went out to check his livestock.

Others say that he was
out riding with the boys.

Still the, there's the young gun
story, which they didn't just make

up, and it was that they were off
on a, at a celebration in the movie.

It was New Year's, but they were off
at a celebration and were riding home.

My research makes me believe
that the truth of the matter was.

There was a lot of legal wrangling
going on because of an insurance

dispute that MCs Swen was a part of.

John Dale had no part of it whatsoever,
and we'll get much deeper into it.

I'll explain it all, but essentially is
what happened is MCs Swen had taken some

money and he was refusing to turn it over
to the house and they were demanding it.

It was an insurance settlement,
and the people who were the heirs

of the person that died were in
Germany and he was saying, no,

this belongs to them in Germany.

And the house was saying, no, it
needs to come to settle our accounts.

He wouldn't give it to 'em.

So they go to a judge, and a judge
basically gives them permission to take

John Tunsell's property to pay the debt of
Mc Swen is a totally convoluted, insane.

Legal maneuver.

That can only happen when
the judge is in your pocket.

Yeah, but I tell that because what I
think the real story is, is Tunstall

believe that all of this could be
handled legally and in the court system.

And so when he got the demand to bring
horses to turn over to the house to

settle this debt, him and the him and
the cowboys were actually driving those

horses to turn them in when this occurred.

Okay.

And so what this is, is Sheriff
Brady authorized a posse.

Included in that posse was Jesse
Evans, who ran the gang, the boys

who Billy the kid rode with and
stole cattle with for a while.

So he basically deputized criminals
and John Hill, or Tom Hill was

another one of them, and sent these
criminals out to act as a posse and

commandeered resources from John Tal.

So they were told that they can go
seize Tunsell's horses, and they

is, what happened is they ambushed
him on the open range, right?

And John Henry, Henry Tunsell was
shot in the head at close range.

His body was left sprawled in the
dust spectacles still in his pocket,

and he was just 24 years old.

And so the killing was
absolutely no accident.

It was an assassination
orchestrated to crush opposition

to the house once and for all.

And instead it lit a fuse.

So when Tunsell's Cowboys learned of
his death, grief turned to fury and

they buried him with solemn vows.

And then they formed a
group called the Regulators.

And that group was led by Dick Brewer.

Who was Charlie Sheen in the
Young, in Young Guns, and it

was joined by Billy, the kid who
was his brother, Emilio Esteve.

And their mission was not
just justice by court.

It was vengeance by the gun.

So within weeks, Lincoln
County was drenched in blood.

The murder of Totell was the spark
that turned lawsuits into warfare.

So the verdict of time,
John Henry Tunstall came to

Lincoln as an entrepreneur,
an idealist, and an outsider.

He believed in fairness in law,
and in the promise that honest

business could defeat monopoly.

His murder proved otherwise.

History remembers him as the symbol
of principle undone by violence.

His death shattered illusions
of peace and transformed Billy

the Kid from Cowboy to Avenger.

Tunsell's name jurors as the martyr whose
blood baptized the Lincoln County War.

So the verdict on John Henry Tunstall was
sealed in blood, but every trial has two

sides and every crusade has its counsels.

If Tunstall was the heart of the challenge
to the house, Alexander McSwain was

its voice and its architect, a lawyer.

By training a man of faith and restless
conviction, McSwain transformed grief

into litigation, loss into resilience.

It was through his contracts, his
petitions, his appeals to higher law

that the struggle in Lincoln County
found not only rifles in the street, but

arguments in the courtroom where Tunsell's
death lit the fire Mc Sweeney's pen

and presence gave that fire direction.

To understand the war that followed,
we must call the next witness.

The man who stood, not with a gun
in his hand, but with statutes Ritz,

and the stubborn belief that the law
itself might yet restrain corruption.

So Alexander Anderson McSwain was born
on June 15th, 1837 in Canada, likely on

Prince Edward Island or in Nova Scotia.

He was of Scottish descent.

He, he was said to have preached
as a Presbyterian minister.

In his youth.

Though records blur in rumor.

What is certain is that he did study law,
at least briefly in St. Louis, Missouri.

In 1873, he married Susan Hummer
in Atchison, Kansas, and together

they settled first in Eureka,
Kansas before drifting westward.

But by 1875, the MCs Swains arrived
in Lincoln County, New Mexico, where

Alexander accepted a position as
attorney for the most powerful men in

town, Lawrence Murphy and James Dolan.

So at first, McSwain was
indispensable to the house.

He managed contracts,
claims, and disputes.

But when Emil Fritz died in 1874,
McSwain was set to collect his

$10,000 life insurance policy.

But when he returned, like I
said, he refused to release the

funds to Murphy and Dolan legally.

He said the money belonged to Fritz's
heirs in Germany, not to the house.

It was Techni.

It was a technicality to sum a betrayal
to others, to Murphy and Dolan.

It was outright theft.

The feud escalated quickly.

Murphy and Dublin accused MCs,
Swain of embezzlement with Sheriff

Brady in the Santa Fe ring.

At their back, they secured Ritz
to attach McSweeney's property

and even assets belonging to
his friend and future partner.

Like I said, John Tunstall,
the message was clear.

Resist the house and the law will destroy.

So in 1876, MC Swen found his answer
when he partnered with John Tunstall,

who was the young English rancher
that we just got done talking about.

Mc Swen brought his legal mind.

Tunstall brought money and respectability
together with the backing from

the Cattle Bear and John Chisholm.

They opened that rival store, bank, ranch.

All the competing things and
their practices were fair.

Like I said.

As the few deepened MCs,
Swen remained at the center.

A lawyer turned faction leader when
Murphy and Dolan hired the Jesse

Evans gang and Kenny's men and
the Seven Rivers Warriors to Raid.

And Russell MCs, Swen and Tussle armed
their own cowboys for protection.

These men included Billy, the
kid, Dick Brewer, Frank and

George Coe, Fred Waite and others.

They were deputized by a sympathetic
justice of the peace, and they

became known as the regulator.

So this is the convoluted mess that I
alluded to in the beginning segment.

Mm-hmm.

You've got these judges deputizing,
these bunch of ass hatts who are,

yeah, Jesse Evans gang and Kenny's
men and all that kinda shit.

They're deputies.

And then you have a justice of the
piece who's deputizing the other side.

So essentially you have Laman fighting
Laman for a little battle here.

And so when Tusall was murdered,
McQueen's role shifted.

Shifted from counselor to commander,
and he was shitty at it, by the way.

He was terrible at this part of
things, but he coordinated the legal

maneuvers, but he also stood behind the
regulators as they exacted vengeance.

And they would go on to ambush Sheriff
Brady on April the first, 1878, and

was widely believed to have been
encouraged, if not outright ordered

by McSweeney himself, removing not
just an enemy, but the man holding

an arrest warrant in his name.

So unfortunately it's impossible, you
know, to tell this story in progression.

So we've gotta do a lot of
bouncing back and forth stuff.

So just.

Because, no, it, it would make no sense
if I just started telling a bunch of

names and didn't kind of connect them.

And

Angela: people are like,
who the hell is that?

John: Exactly.

So, okay.

The war rage through 1878 and each side
trading raids, lawsuits and killings.

So by July, McSwain was indicted
for embezzlement and murder.

He was pursued by Dolan's forces
and trapped in his own house.

And on July the 15th, 1878, sheriff
George Pepins Posse stacked with

Dolan allies in the Seven Rivers.

Men besieged the mis, the mc
Swen home for five days Bullets

tour through Adobe walls.

And on the night of July the 19th,
the attackers set the house on fire.

As flames consumed the roof MCs
Swen emerged wearing a white shirt

that made him an easy target in
the dark right gunfire erupted.

MCs Swen fell dead in his own yard
alongside his law partner, Harvey Morris.

His wife Susan, was spared and her
survival a cruel mercy is she watched

the end of her husband's cause.

Yeah.

So the verdict of time, Alexander
McSwain believed the law could out

fight Monopoly in Lincoln County.

It could not.

His defiance turned him from Murphy's
Ally into his most dangerous enemy.

From lawyer into outlaw and
from strategist into martyr.

His death marked the end
of the Lincoln County War.

His widow Susan went on to build one
of the largest cattle herds in New

Mexico, outlasting pretty much all of
the men who had killed her husband.

But history remembers Alexander
MCs Swen as the lawyer who fought

the house with paper and pen until
bullets and fire silenced him.

So when Alexander MCs Swen fell in
the flames of his own house, the

war seemed over, but out of the
ashes, his widow stepped forward.

Susan MCs Swen had lost her husband,
her home, and nearly her life.

Yet she refused to vanish in a
world rule by gunman and monopolies.

She carved out a future with
nothing but her wits, her courage,

and the land beneath her boots.

So Susan Ellen Hummer was born December
30th, 1845 in Adams County, Pennsylvania.

Her family were German Baptist,
the dunkers whose faith emphasized

simplicity and discipline.

But Susan's own life was never simple.

Her mother's death and father's
remarriage left her restless and she

struck out on her on her own young
choosing independence over obedience.

In 1873, she married Alexandria
MCs Swen in Eureka, Kansas.

Two years later, they rode west to Lincoln
County, New Mexico, and Susan wasn't

content to remain in the background.

She was her husband's
confidant and partner.

Weighing in on business decisions
and legal strategies, their home

in Lincoln became a gathering
place for allies and later for the

regulators, the cowboy vigilantes
who swore to avenge tonsils murder.

Billy, the kid himself found
shelter beneath Susan's roof.

Her courage was tested in July, 1878
during the five day battle when Dolan's

Madla siege to the mc swing home.

After that widowed in destitute, Susan
faced her harassment, slander, and

the looming shadow of her enemies.

Yet she refused to disappear.

She sought justice for Alex, working
with Attorney Huston Chapman and

federal investigator Frank Engel to
expose corruption, including Colonel

Dudley's role in the violence when
Chapman was murdered in Lincoln,

likely at Dolan's behest, Susan
pressed on demanding accountability

from a system rigged against her.

Though the courts failed, Susan's
defiance became legendary.

With nothing left but the
land Susan turned to ranching.

She inherited about 160 acres, including
the Bacca home and evicted Dolan's allies

who squatted on her PO on her property.

Then she rebuilt through grit, shrewd
management and alliances with cattlemen.

Susan grew her holdings into one of
the largest herds in the territory.

So by the 1880s, she was known as
the cattle queen of New Mexico.

She managed court battles, signed
contracts in her own name, and stood toe

to toe with the man who had once dismissed
her as an appendage of her husband.

In a world where women were rarely allowed
to own power, Susan seized it and held it.

Susan McSwain lived long enough to
see New Mexico achieve statehood.

She outlasted Murphy Dolan, Riley
Brady, and even Billy the kid.

She built an empire from Ashes
turned loss into legacy and carried

her independence into old age.

She died on July 3rd, 1931 in White Oaks,
New Mexico, January, what did I say?

July?

I meant January.

She died January 3rd, 1931 in White
Oaks, New Mexico, nearly 86 years old.

A survivor to the last and
wrong woman, two young guns.

Two.

When the naked hooker is riding out
of town on the horse and she says,

white Oaks, you can kiss my ass.

So the verdict of time, Susan
McSwain's story is one of the

most remarkable of the old West.

She entered history as the widow of a
fallen lawyer, but carved her own place

as a rancher, entrepreneur, and survivor.

She faced violence, corruption,
and betrayal, and answered with

resilience, intelligence, and grit.

History remembers her not as a victim
of the Lincoln County War, but as

the woman who walked out of its ashes
and claimed the land as her own.

Susan McSwain may have carried the
burden of grief, but she was not alone

in her fight around her husband and
John Tunsell had gathered a company

of young cowboys and ranchers.

Men who long before the gun smoke had
been hired hands, neighbors, or friends.

They were not yet the
regulators of legend.

At first, they were simply tunsell's
boys, drovers, horse breakers,

and farm hands who kept his
cattle moving and his ranch alive.

But when Lincoln's courts bent under
the weight of monopoly as Sheriff Brady

turned law into a weapon, those same
cowboys would be deputized under local

authority, suddenly transformed from
ranch hands into armed constables.

This is where the line blurred
most sharply, they were legal

one day outlaw the next their os.

The court dissolved, but their
loyalty to tons and MCs swen remained.

And so a ranch crew became a
vigilante band, a name whispered with

equal parts, admiration and fear.

The regulators.

It was within this group that men
like Richard Brewer, Charlie Bowry,

the co cousins, and a wiry youth
named Billy Bonnie, step forward.

Before the war, they
were ordinary cowboys.

Afterwards they would be remembered
as symbols of vengeance, justice, and

banditry, depending on who told the story.

The charge from cow hands to
vigilantes, the rise of the regulators.

So on February 18th, 1878, we know
John Tunstall was gunned down.

Tunsell's lawyer McSwain and his foreman,
Dick Brewer, rallied the dead man's

cowboys and friends, and a local justice
of the peace by the name of John B.

Wilson, deputized Brewer
as a special constable.

And so for the moment, they had legitimacy
warrants were issued for TALs killers.

The posse included names that would
echo across the west, Billy the kid,

John Middleton, Henry Brown, Fred, wait,
Charlie Bowry, George Coe, Frank Co. They

called themselves the regulators, and
at first they were legal, a sworn posse.

But when Governor Samuel Axtel revoked
their authority under pressure from the

house, they were stripped of their badges.

And from that day, they were outlaws
in the eyes of the territory.

So the regulators began
with a clear mission.

Bring the men who murdered John Tunsell.

They rode with warrants, and for
a time they acted like deputies.

But justice in Lincoln
all was already poisoned.

Judges and sheriffs bent
to Murphy and Dolan.

When the regulators tried to serve
warrants on men like Jesse Evans, Tom

Hill, William Morton, Frank B, they found
the law itself standing in their way.

Some of these men were
captured, others died.

Quote, resisting arrest.

The regulators' mandate shifted quickly
from targeted arrests to open war.

They became a band of brothers
bound by vengeance and survival.

They rode against outlawed
sheriffs and soldiers alike.

On April 1st, 78 was the Brady Ambush.

In Lincoln's Dusty Street, the
regulators opened fire on Sheriff

William Brady and his deputies.

Brady was riddled with bullets.

Deputy George Hinman
was killed beside him.

And Billy, the kid was seen stripping.

Billy's stripping Brady's body
of arrest warrants, legal paper

reclaimed by illegal hands.

And then there was the Blazer's Mill
gun fight, which was a confrontation

with the tough mountain man.

Buckshot Roberts, who was played by Brian
Keith in young Guns is turned bloody.

And Dick Brewer, the
regulator's captain was killed.

Roberts was mortally wounded,
but fighting to the last.

He was one tough son of a bitch.

Let me tell you what, this
guy was a tough bastar.

And then on April to July of 1878,
there were all kinds of skirmishes,

ambush, assassinations, regulator
bullets, took down enemies like William

Morton and Frank Baker, but every
shot deepened the cycle of reprisal.

And then was the five day battle.

July In Lincoln, the regulators
hold up in the, in the MCs Swen

house, firing from the windows
surrounded by Dolan's hired guns.

And on the final night,
the house was torched.

Flames drove the regulators
into the open Alexander MCs.

Swen was cut down and his
men were scattered with some

of 'em dying in the yard.

So by late 1878, the
regulators were broken.

Some were dead, others fled.

A few took amnesty when
Governor Lew Wallace offered it.

Billy the kid restless and loyal
to no one, but himself by then

drifted into other outlaw bans.

The legend of the regulators ended,
but the blood that they spilled

lingered in Lincoln County's dust.

So the verdict of time, the
regulators began as deputies

with wards in their hands.

They ended as outlaws with rifles to
their shoulders, to their enemies.

They were vigilantes.

Assassins to their allies.

They were the only justice
that Lincoln County ever saw.

Their legacy is not order, but memory.

A reminder that when the law
collapses, men will make their own.

So among the rough fraternity of
cowboys and ranch hands, there had

to be someone to steady the reigns.

The regulators were young.

Restless and already burning with anger
over Sal's murder, but without order.

Fur alone would scatter them
like dust on the planes.

That order came in the form of
richer Dick Brewer, older than most

sober minded, and already trusted.

As as Sal's foreman, brewer
was the natural choice to lead.

He knew cattle, he knew the
land, and he knew men where

others reached first for the gun.

Brewer reached for a plan.

Before the first warrant was
served, or the first ambush laid.

It was Brewer who gave the regulator
shape a leader who carried not just

Tunsell's brand, but his cause.

So the charge leadership
forged in loyalty.

Dick Brewer, the first
captain of the regulators.

So Richard Dick Brewer was
born on February the 19th,

1850 in St. Albans, Vermont.

His family soon moved west, settling
in Boaz, Wisconsin by his early teens

brewer, and struck out further drifting
through Missouri before finding

his way to New Mexico territory.

He bought land, tried his hand at
farming, and lived quietly at first,

but like so many settlers, he was
drawn into ranching and into the orbit

of men who would decide his fate.

By the early 1870s, he was
working under Lawrence Murphy.

Dissatisfied with the man's methods.

Brewer left.

Later joining John Tuske, his foreman.

That decision changed his life.

With Tunstall Brewer found his footing.

He was steady, diligent, and honest.

The kind of man who could be
trusted to run a ranch, handle men

and keep cattle moving, Tunstall
relied on him for nearly everything.

Brewer became the ranch's enforcer, as
well as its manager chasing wrestlers

and riding with fellow cowboys like
Doc Scurlock ke for Sutherland in.

And Charlie Bowry, who was
played by, who is that guy?

That's on, um, my Best Friend's
wedding with, um, what's her name?

And he's also,

Angela: he is a Mc McDermott, isn't he?

Ah, no,

John: no.

He's also Holly Hunter's
partner in Copycat.

Angela: I always thought
he was a McDermott.

John: Maybe he is, I don't know the name.

Anyway, he's the one that
plays Charlie Boundary.

Angela: Yeah.

Well I gotta find out now.

John: So, Dick's quiet
authority, earned respect.

And when Billy, the kid appeared
on the scene, brewer saw him

with potential reckless Yeah,
but loyal when given reason.

So constable's growing, mercantile and
ranching Empire had made enemies in

Murphy and Dolan Brewer by then was
already standing in the crossfire.

So we talked about, you know, the
February 18th shooting of John Tunsell.

We talked about John B.
Wilson, deputizing the group.

Um, and we talked about
this group of guys.

We gave some of the names
known as the regulators.

So.

Brewer led with a cool
head and he sought justice.

Not carnage, though the
line blurred quickly.

He pursued William Morton and Frank
Bak, two suspects in Tunsell's murder.

They captured him and they tried to
deliver 'em to Lincoln, but somewhere

along the trail Morton and were
executed in custody, whether by order

or by mutiny their death stained
the regulator's badge with blood.

Did you find it?

Angela: Who was I?

What was the guy's name?

The character, not the

John: in younguns.

Mm-hmm.

Steve.

It was dirty.

Steve.

I, it was wrong.

It was dirty.

Steve

Angela: Dermot Mulrooney, that's why.

John: Okay.

Yes.

And so who played then?

Charlie Charles, because
Yeah, you're right.

He played dirty Steve

Angela: Casey's.

Team Masco.

John: All right.

I don't know who that is, but I

Angela: won't

John: either.

Played the part really good.

He was, he was really good at it.

So, and we'll get into all of this
stuff in more detail as as we move

through this story, but on April
the fourth, 1878, Dick Brewer led

his regulators to Blazer's Mill.

And their target was Andrew Buckshot
Roberts, who was believed to be

aligned with Tonsils Killers,

Angela: who was played by Brian Keith.

Just 'cause I happened
to be looking at it.

John: That one I knew.

To think about it for a
minute, but fricking Bryce

Angela: looking at that
at that moment, he's

John: just such a great actor and
he played that part really well.

Although he had a very
short role in the movie.

But, um, the fight was sudden and chaotic.

Roberts wounded and cornered, fought like
a cornered bear, and he mortally shot

Dick Brewer as the young captain tried
to maneuver his men, brewer fell and

was the first regulator captain to die.

His blood soaking into
the dirt of Blazer's Mill.

He was only 28 years old.

His body was laid to rest in Mescalero,
near the battlefield where he fell.

And, you know, I just gotta say, it's,
it's so freaking interesting because

in the other shows that we do, I'm
always talking about like these young

kids and how young they were and.

And they were just a bunch of, they
weren't young and all this, but when you

go this far back, they weren't young.

15 was a grown ass man.

Yeah.

And he was doing grown ass shit, you know?

Yeah.

So, I mean, you know, Billy, the kid, he
will go on to die at 21 famously, John,

Angela: spoiler alert.

Goodness sake.

John: If you don't know, if you don't
know that part, then I, I mean, yeah,

you can't really spoil a freaking
story that's 150 years old, but.

You know, John Tunstall
was 24 at the time.

Yeah.

I mean, he was like, you know,
I mean, this was a, essentially

a, a very young I know.

I'm looking at my kid going, you're
not much older than this, this dude.

Exactly.

Yeah.

I mean, you know, my, my son is currently
older than John Tunstall was, and he's not

very damn much younger than Dick Brewer.

So it's just crazy.

But the verdict of time for Dick Brewer.

Dick Brewer was no outlaw
king, no gambler with death.

He was a working man, a foreman,
a rancher who believed that Locke

could stand against corruption.

And for a brief flickering
moment, he carried a badge.

Then, like so many in Lincoln,
he carried a gun, his death lift.

The regulators rudderless into that
vacuum, stepped Billy the kid, less

cautious, less bound by conscience,
more willing to fight until the end.

Brewer's legacy is quieter than
Billy's, but no less telling.

He was proof that even good men when
pressed by corruption and betrayal

can be driven in the bloodshed,

but even the steadiest captain
needs men that he can trust.

Eddie's side.

A dick Brewer may have
carried the burden of command.

Yet the regulators drew their
strength from a cycle of loyal

fighters who shared tonsils cause
long before the killing started.

One of those men was Charlie Bowry,
a rancher by trade, a cheesemaker by

experiment, and a gunman by necessity.

Bowry brought with him both quiet
conviction and willingness to

stand firm when others faltered.

He wasn't reckless, but he was loyal.

The kind of loyalty that would bind him
to his friends until his final breath.

So the charge steadfast friendship
turned into Frontier defiance.

Charlie Bowry, a man who walked
into the storm, shoulder to

shoulder with his companions.

So Charlie Bowry was born around
1848 in Wilkes County, Georgia.

His family moved to Mississippi when
he was still a child, raising him on

hard farm labor, but re was restless.

By the early 1870s.

He turned his back on
the plow and headed west.

By 1874, he'd made it to
Lincoln County, New Mexico.

There he found both business and
brotherhood with Josiah Doc Scurlock.

Together the Para Rani cheese
factory on the Gila River.

An odd prelude for two men who
would soon ride with outlaws.

Angela: That's what I was thinking.

John: And, you know, doc Scurlock
and, and I'm hoping some of the

listeners have at least seen the
movie Doc Scurlock played by Keith

or Keith or Sutherland in the movie.

He was like a poet and a very
educated, the actual doc Scurlock

was very similar to that.

Um, just to kind of set the
scene, for those of you that

actually watch good movies,

Angela: Frank will watch it.

John: Oh, frontier Justice was never far.

In July, 1876, Bowry joined a
posse that stormed Lincoln's jail,

dragged a accused's horse thief.

Jesus Largo into the
street and lynched him.

He wasn't reckless by nature, but
he wasn't afraid of violence either.

Again, all of this stems from
the murder of John Tunstall.

And Charlie was there.

He was right alongside the rest
of the regulators, and he was

there at the Blackwater Creek
killings on March 8th in 78 win.

He captured gunman, William Martin
and Frank Baker and Regulator

defector, William McCloskey and
all of 'em were executed, and

that happens in the movie as well.

He stood in the thick of things
at the gunfight at Blazer's

Mill, where he was wounded in the
exchange with Buckshot Roberts.

Roberts died.

Ru was killed and boundary
carried scars that never healed.

He fought through the five day
battle in July, holed up in

McSwain's, houses that burned.

He escaped that night with Billy
and a handful of others slipping

into the shadows while MCs Swen fell
After the war, Bowry tried to settle.

He worked for Thomas Ybe and Pete Maxwell.

Kept close to Billy and married
Manela Herrera, the sister

of Doc s Spurlock's wife.

And for a moment it seemed that Bowry
might trade his rifle for family life.

By 1880, the Outlaw Trail
was wearing Bowry down.

He thought about surrender, even
considered turning himself in over

his role in buckshot Robert's death.

But friendship tied him tighter than fear.

When Billy, the kid gathered
his band for one last run.

Tom Ovaled, Dave Augh, who's played
by Christian Slater, Billy Wilson.

Charlie Bowry.

He rode along December the
23rd, 1880 stinking springs.

Pat Garrett's posse
surrounded their hideout.

Bowry stepped outside to feed the horses,
and a storm of bullets cutting down.

Billy urged him to die fighting.

Quote, take a few of them with you.

The bowry could barely stand.

He stumbled forward
whispering, I wish, I wish.

And then he fell without
ever drawing his gun.

He was buried at Fort Sumner, laid
in the earth beside Tom o. Failure.

Less than a year later, Billy
himself would join them.

The verdict of time.

Charlie Browery never led posses.

He never claimed a crown.

He never carved his name into
Lincoln's power struggles.

He was quiet, devout, often carrying
a Bible in his pocket, but he followed

his friends, stood his ground,
and died in the dust beside them.

His story is not of infamy
or empire, but of loyalty.

And in Lincoln County, loyalty
was as dangerous as any bullet.

Charlie Boundary's loyalty was plain,
steady as a fence post in rough weather,

but loyalty alone wasn't enough.

The regulators also needed grit.

Men willing to track wrestlers
over broken country and face down

the barrel of another man's gun.

That's where Frank McNabb stepped in.

Scotsman turned cattle.

Detective McNat brought with him
the hard edge skills of a man who

lived by pursuit and survival.

He wasn't just muscle, he was method,
the kind of presence that gave

the regulators teeth in the chase.

And soon enough, a leader's voice when
the fighting left them rudderless, the

charge relentless pursuit of justice.

No matter how bloody the trail.

Frank McNabb, the detective who became
a captain, Frank McNabb, was born in

Scotland, his exact date, lost to history.

He crossed the Atlantic not
as a settler's child, but as a

young man hunting opportunity.

By the early 1870s, he was in the
American Southwest working for Hunter

Evans and Company, the outfit of Cattle
Bar and John Chisholm McNabb served as

a cattle detective, the polite frontier
term for hired gun against wrestlers.

His job was to track stolen herds
across the desert, recover them when

possible, and put lead into anybody
standing in the way on the Pecos

frontier that made him feared, respected,
and well acquainted with violence.

So by 1875, Chisholm had shifted his
empire into New Mexico, staking a kingdom

along the Pecos McNabb, came with him
already bloodied in the wrestler wars.

It was through Chisholm that McNabb met
Alexander MCs, Swen and John Tunstall,

who's fight against the Murphy Dolan
monopoly aligned with Chisholm's interest.

When Tunstall was assassinated, McNabb
was among the first to swear vengeance.

Deputized was brewer.

On the others, he became a
founding member of the regulators.

At first, McNabb served
as Brew's lieutenant.

He rode in pursuit of William Morton and
Frank Bakker accused in tonsils murder.

Along that trail, when fellow regulator,
William McCloskey appeared ready to turn

on his comrades and aid the prisoners,
McNabb pulled the trigger himself.

McCloskey fell dead, and
Martin and Bak soon followed.

Gunned down in the dust.

A killing most blamed on
Billy the Kid, but one that

happened under McNabb's watch.

So this is where young guns definitely
got it wrong because in the movie,

Billy, the Kid says to McCloskey,
man, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm

sorry I didn't recognize you sooner.

You goddamn damn traitor.

Boom.

Is that up?

That is exactly that on.

So, and as a matter of fact, McNabb isn't
even in the movie and he was, he was like

a bigger part of the whole story than some
of the ones that made it into the movie.

But for whatever reason,
Hollywood didn't pick him.

So yeah, wasn't romantic enough.

Apparently not.

I mean, it's a pretty freaking
romantic story though.

The guy was a freaking range
detective and he chased wrestlers

all over the damn place.

Mm-hmm.

I mean, that's a pretty freaking
good story, but I don't know.

They skipped him.

So on April the first, 1878, McNapp
was in the ambush that cut down Sheriff

William Brady and Deputy George Hinman.

He fired not just for vengeance, but to
recover the warrants that Brady carried

documents that marked the regulators
as outlaws, and then at Blazer's Mill,

MCNA fought beside Brewer against
Buckshot Roberts where Brewer died.

Roberts Mortally was wounded and
McNab walked away alive, but by

regulators vote, he then became their
new captain, which is again odd.

I guess they would've had to make
the story or the movie as long as

this podcast ended up being, that's
probably why they didn't do it, but.

McNabb's command lasted less than a
month because on April the 29th, 1878, he

rode with Ab Saunders and Frank Coe near
the Fritz Ranch Sheriff George Pepin.

Backed by the Seven Rivers Warriors
and Jesse Evans gang set an ambush.

McNabb fought hard wounded, but
scrambling into a goalie for cover.

Their Manuel Indian Segovia
tracked him down and fired a

shotgun blast that ended his life.

Saunders was badly wounded, co
captured, and the regulators lost

their sep, their second captain.

In less than 30 days.

The regulators answered in kind by May
the Stormed, the Seven Rivers camp and

gun and gunned down, Segovia avenging
McNabb's death in the only currency

the war allowed, which was blood.

McNabb was remembered as relentless,
efficient, and at times ruthless killing.

McCloskey branded him controversial,
but to the regulators, he was decisive.

A man who did what had to be done.

His Scottish grit honed on cattle
trails and hardened in the desert, made

him the natural successor to brewer
if only briefly, after McNabb fell.

Doc Scurlock assumed command, but the
regulators were already unraveling

under the weight of loss and vengeance.

So the verdict of time, Frank
McNabb's Life was a frontier riddle.

A cattle detective sworn to defend
property turned outlaw leader in

a war where lot self was broken.

His tenure was short, his death
violent, but his presence proved

that the regulators were more
than just Billy, the kids gang.

They were a company of men bound
by vengeance, losing leaders

one by one until nothing.

But legend remained

with Frank McNabb cut down.

The regulators needed
more than another gun.

They needed a mind, someone
literate, steady, and still

willing to fight into that breach.

Stepped Josiah Gordon, doc Scurlock,
a cowboy who read Poetry by

Firelight, carried the scar and
bullet through his jaw and let

men with both brains and steel.

The charge.

A philosopher with a six shooter
who turned from, who turned from

vigilante violence to family life
and lived long enough to see the

age of Outlaws become legend.

So Josiah Gordon Scurlock Keefer
Sutherland's character was born January

11th, 1849 in Talla County, Alabama.

One of 11 children of Priestly
Norman Scurlock and Esther Ann

Brown, unlike many Frontier
gunman, Scurlock grew up educated.

He briefly studied medicine in New
Orleans, earning the nickname Doc.

But, but learning couldn't cage him.

So by 1870, restless for the wider
world, scurlock headed south into Mexico.

There in a dusty confrontation.

He survived the kind of fight
that could have ended him early.

Shot through the mouth teeth shattered the
bullet, tearing out the back of his neck.

He lived, killed his attacker and carried
the scar for the rest of his life.

That brush with death
only deepened his resolve.

He turned cowboy riding for John
Chisholm in Texas, trailing cattle

across the Southwest, battling
wrestlers and Apaches, and sometimes

skimming the line into theft himself.

So by 1874 Scurlock was in New Mexico
and he partnered with Charlie Faure to

open a cheese factory on Lake Gila River.

Let stop laughing at that.

It's crazy, isn't it?

Later moving to a ranch near Rio Ruidoso.

But like so many small operators,
he was soon entangled in debt

to Lawrence Murphy's house.

A reminder that Monopoly
had a stranglehold on even

the most modest lives.

Cheese is expensive, cheese is expensive.

Scurlock also had a taste for vigilant
Justice in 1876, he and Bowry,

alongside the Cooch cousins and AB
Saunders Hall accused horse thief.

Jesus Largo out of Lincoln's
jail and strung him up.

It was a warning shot.

The law was weak, and men like Scurlock
were willing to supply their own.

That same year, Scurlock married
Maria Antonio Mcla Herrera.

Together they would raise 10 children.

No, making him one of the few
regulators to balance violence

with a deeply rooted family life.

And so he did not marry the China doll.

That was ca captive by Lawrence Murphy.

That was Hollywood, but he's Hollywood.

But he was playing very
well by, um, Keefer.

Suther led that that role was
very much like him, except Keefer

Southern was a little bit more timid.

Then the actual Doc Scurlock
was actual Doc Scurlock.

He wouldn't take no shit from nobody.

He was not afraid to fight.

Not saying Doc in the movie
was, but he was really kind of

timid and all artsy fartsy and
poetry and all that kinda stuff.

And that was just not the case.

Angela: And fatherhood of 10 kids.

John: Yeah.

And so when John Tunstall was
murdered, Scurlock threw in with

Brewer, Bowery, Billy the kid, and
all the rest the regulators were born.

We've told that story.

So with Brewer dead and the
nap gunned down the mantle of

leadership failed a scurlock.

He wasn't the loudest or
the most flamboyant, but his

men trusted his judgment.

He led retaliatory strikes, including
the killing of Manu, Manuel Segovia,

avenging McNabb, and he kept order
when others were tempted to splinter.

As a deputy, under McSwain's ally,
sheriff John Copeland Scurlock gave the

regulators their last brush with legality.

But once Governor Axtel stripped their
commissions, they were outlaws for good.

So by late in 1878, doc's patience
for endless bloodshed waned.

When Billy, the kid turned
to wrestling, John Chisholm's

Cattle Scurlock stepped away.

He chose life, not death.

Scurlock then returned to
Texas, first to Potter County,

and then to Eastland County.

And there the man who once led Vigilantes
became a postmaster, a rancher,

and a community leader and a poet.

He raised his children, grew old
with his wife, Maria Antonia, and

died quietly of a heart attack.

On July 25th, 1929, he was buried in
Eastland, Texas, a far cry from the

smoke filled streets of Lakeland Lincoln.

The verdict of time.

Josiah Doc Scurlock stands apart
from most of his regulator brothers.

He fought, killed, and led, but he
lived long enough to lay down his guns.

He wrote poetry, raised a family,
and became a pillar of his community.

His story is a reminder that the men
of Lincoln were not just desperados.

Some were thinkers, some were
dreamers, some were men who wanted

peace when the chance finally came.

Okay?

So I think that now as a, as a good, as
place, as any to end this, um, I know

we've covered a lot of information.

We still got the rest of the
regulators to talk about.

Then we've got the whole Murphy Dolan
side to talk about, and then we dive

into the whole rest of the chaos.

So there's just so many freaking
players, and so that's why this

is kind of fun and exciting and
different than what we typically do.

Yeah, because.

We have 150 years of research and
investigation into all of this.

And so we have all of this
information that we can collect.

So it's really fun.

And, and, and

Angela: if we let you, you would be here

John: I all night.

Weeks.

Oh yeah.

Weeks and weeks.

Absolutely.

You know, it's, it's so funny
because it's, we've got, um, Rocky

Mountain Reckoning and a lot of those
stories, there's like no information.

You can't find anything.

No.

And then you dive into this
and it's like information.

Yeah.

Where I don't know what to do with it all.

It is, it's so crazy.

And then inside my brain, my broken brain
where I have researched Billy the Kid

for, I mean, probably 40, 40 some years.

Mm-hmm.

I've been fascinated with Billy the kid.

I mean, I can remember my parents,
uh, I think my parents had to

go to Billings or something like
that, and I was left home alone.

And so I got a ride down to the We Market
that who used to send it to South for,

and I rented it because it was raining.

R no freaking wait.

I was gonna be loud.

And I rented the people Say You're Butler.

Because my brother going to, yes.

And so I can't remember exactly where
my parents went, but they left me alone.

And so I was like in charge
of like irrigating and stuff.

That was my life growing up and,
but I got, I know I couldn't drive

at the time, but I got to the store
and I rented young guns and couldn't

wait to get home and watch it.

And then it is the movie that I drove
people insane with because there was a

time, I literally knew it word for word.

I could recite the whole movie to you.

Angela: How mad were
they when they found out?

John: No, I don't think
they ever found out.

Angela: But you're reciting the
movie to everybody that didn't

John: I rec, I didn't recite it to them.

Oh, okay.

Throughout the years, you know, I'd
be like, have you seen Younguns?

And they'd be like, no.

And so I'd put it in and watch it,
and then I'd start reciting it.

I'd be like, would you shut up?

Just love me.

Watch Elite.

Yeah.

That was what this movie.

Oh man.

So that triggered a lifetime of
fascination with Billy the Kid.

And so digging into this story is even.

More than it would be normally.

'cause I love history.

I love True crime.

The two come together perfectly in this.

But then I have this passion
for like Billy the Kid.

Yeah.

It's really funny because as a kid
it was Billy the Kid and Crazy Horse.

Those were like my two idols.

Like that's just, and so I,
I dunno why that is, but.

You

Angela: wanted to be an Indian outlaw.

John: Yeah.

And so when I was playing as a kid, like
one day I'd be Billy the kid, I'd be

running around like shooting the bad guys
and the next day I'd be riding bareback

and I would be crazy horse and I'd be
running around killing the Cowboys.

So, I don't know, it's, it's just funny.

But anyway, I think that that brings
us to the end of this episode.

Next episode we'll gotta talk about the
rest of the regulators and then we will,

you know, kinda start talking about the
Murphy Dolan side, depending on time as

we kinda weave our way through this story.

'cause there are a lot
of moving pieces here.

And then, you know, unlike most of the
stories that we talk about, that's limited

to like one tragic event here, we've got.

All of this shit going on, you know?

Yeah.

Angela: And you're bouncing in this

John: and yeah.

Martin and B get arrested.

And then with McCloskey,
they all get assassinated.

And I've actually read letters
that were written by B to um, I

believe it was his wife during that.

And he says in those LA letters, Billy,
the kid is determined to kill us.

We're never gonna make it alive.

And that sure enough, they all
get gunned down and killed.

So anyway, a lot of fun information, A lot
of super interesting stuff to talk about.

And the unique part of this story
is we're talking about one of the

most famous outlaws of the American.

Music: Yeah, yeah.

John: But there's a real question
whether I consider him an outlaw or not.

Mm-hmm.

Because if put in the same
situation, I think I would act

exactly the same way, like.

If I'm, if I'm a orphan at 14
and then I meet this guy, right?

He gives me a gun.

And when I say that,

Angela: he And a job and
a life and a purpose.

John: Yeah.

Yeah.

When I say that he was given a
Winchester 73, I mean, if you're not

a gun person, you don't have any clue
what that means, but in the 1870s.

Giving somebody a, a Winchester
73 was like handing them life.

Mm-hmm.

Because it was a, you know, it was six
shooters at the time, and the Winchester

73 was really one of the very first
repeating rifles and it would shoot

the same caliber that is handgun would
shoot, so they would shoot the same one.

But giving him that, giving anybody
that gun, allowed them to not only

defend themselves from a lot farther
away, but without having to line up.

With somebody on a street basically.

But it also allowed him to take
game from a long ways away.

You know, they can now shrink
deer wear with a pistol.

That's very difficult to do, you know?

So, and your other option was like
black powder and shit like that.

'cause this is, this is that period
of time, you know, where repeating

rifles are really taken over.

And so, you know where you have
like the peacemaker who, who's

labeled the gun that won the west?

Really?

It was the Winchester
73 that won the West.

So that was a huge gift to
a young man at the time.

And so put in that same situation and then
you kill my major and the one guy in my

whole life who's actually treated me Yeah.

With any sort of respect and love.

Yeah.

You didn't leave on his own, you took him.

Yeah, exactly.

I mean, you think about it,
his, his real dad deserted him.

Mm-hmm.

The only real love that he was
given was from his mom, but no male.

Yeah.

Gave him any, this guy was
the first father figure.

Absolutely.

Ironically, being only like five
or six years older than him, but

Angela: still,

John: he was still the
father figure to him.

And so that loyalty, I understand.

And put in the same situation
where you can't go to the law

because the law's crooked.

Music: Mm-hmm.

John: Ida went to war too, so it'll
be interesting how, uh, you and the

listeners all kind of come out at the
end of this, whether you're with me and

think Billy was maybe not as much outlaw
or he was a hardened outlaw and killer.

Okay.

Who killed 21 Men one for
each year of his life?

Angela: The next question, do
you want me to watch the movie

before we finish this or wait?

John: Oh, you can
definitely watch the movie.

Angela: Okay.

John: Oh yeah.

I mean, you won't, nothing
will be given away.

Angela: Okay.

John: And that's kind of the fun
part about these stories is because

they're so old and I mean, I guess
everybody's not like me and doesn't

know like all the little intricacies
about Billy the kid's life.

But, um, it's just, you could
definitely watch the movie because

obviously I'm gonna reference it a
lot and you'll get those references.

And so the listeners, I encourage
you, if you have to watch Young

Guns, I would encourage you to watch
both of them because then you'll

be ready for Young Guns three.

Who rumor has it is gonna be
coming out I think in 2026 or 2027,

which I'm freaking snowed about.

Music: I'm so,

John: yeah, I, um, I mean, Lou Diamond
Phillips, he's one of my favorite freaks.

I really like him a lot now.

He is awesome and he plays.

Chavez Chavez so freaking well.

And he is an actual regulator that we
will be talking about and he's quite

an interesting character as well.

But I

Angela: guess I don't think Blue
Diamond Phillips should play

anybody who's not interesting.

John: No, he's such a great actor.

Angela: Yeah.

They're all interesting.

John: Yeah.

And I, you know, I was, I actually
was reading a little article about the

friendship that him and Graham Green
formed and they weren't really Yeah.

Because both of them, they
were on, on long wire together.

Yeah.

You

Angela: know,

John: and.

I mean, it sounds like

Angela: had to be adversaries.

John: Everybody that um, worked
with him has the same thing.

Kevin Costner said the same thing.

Yeah.

He was like awesome to work with.

Like every movie the guy's
been in, the actors that worked

with him said he was awesome.

So rest in peace, brother, because Yeah.

Gave us some really, really great movie.

Angela: many yes.

John: Things.

He was in so many and
all of 'em were awesome.

And you know, honestly, like Lou Diamond
Phillips, I could say the same thing about

like, pretty much every movie that guy's
been in, I have freaking really liked.

Music: Yeah.

John: Um.

Emilio Estevez that like minute
at work, I could take it or

leave it, you know, whatever.

But the guy's a freaking good actor.

You talk about a world
class acting family.

Mm-hmm.

His hard machine.

Emilio Este.

Yeah.

Um, his brother went off
the rails a little bit, but

Angela: because he's winning,

John: he was a good freaking actor man.

And yeah, the part, the part that
he played in Young Guns, he really

played it good as Dick Brewer.

So yeah, I encourage all of you to watch
both of the young guns and, um, and yeah.

We'll, we'll pick this back
up on the next episode.

So obviously that brings part one of
our look into Billy the Kid to a Close.

The voice swept into a war, a fugitive,
forged by circumstance, and a legend

that refuses to die in part two.

We're gonna continue on this journey.

We'll talk about the bloody showdowns
that carved the regulators' path

and the choices that made history.

Angela: In the meantime, if you've
enjoyed this episode, make sure you're

subscribed to wherever you listen
and share it with a friend who loves

history as well, outlaws, or just a
good story from the Old West, or just

listening to how passionate John is about

John: this bunch of a nutball.

I am, I said passionate.

I said, no, Paul.

Okay, fine.

If you want to do more than listen,
we've built ways for you to get involved

through our adoptive victim program.

You can pick a case and help us dig
coming through, sources, piecing

together records, and keeping these
forgotten lives alive through research.

Angela: And if you wanna take an
even more active role, you can

join the Dark Dialogue collective.

That's where listeners sign up to
help on searches, support families,

and be part of the hands-on work
that pushes these stories forward.

John: You can also support us
on Patreon, substack, or Coffee.

Every bit of support helps keep the
fire burning and the research alive,

Angela: and we, I always
want to hear from you.

Drop us a line at info@darkdialogue.com
with your theories, your

feedback, or just to say hello,

John: this has been dark
dialogue, gallows and gunfights.

Until next time, let the past take the
stand and the guilty face, the gallows.

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