No Time for Killers

A History Repeat

No Time for Killers

Bonita, it Ain’t

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

            Bonita must be considered one of the prerequisite first words in speaking Spanish. The fact is it is a fundamental quest of mankind not only to seek the enchantment of its meaning. To witness a real life experience from unannounced and unexpected beauty is one of the few and great joys of life.

            To create a thing of “bonita” through the efforts or demonstrations of man, though, is more than likely going to fall short. Many times, it turns out to be … woefully short.

            A History Repeat

            The killer was another “discontented youth”.

            The first victim was young John Mayberry. The shooter shot John twice as he opened his bedroom door. Almost immediately, the weapon was turned on younger brother, Eddie, who died as a single shot savaged his body. Count ‘em … three shots.

            A guest at Mayberry House, Dr. Flynn, was next. He ran to the sounds of gunfire only to be shot through and through in the head. He died immediately. Count ‘em … four shots.

            Terrified and incredulous as to what was going on Mr. Mayberry, the hotel’s proprietor and owner, was stumbling up the stairs trying to make out what was going on. When the idiot wielding the weapon saw him he shot him as well. One more bullet ended John, Sr.’s life in a heartbeat. Count ‘em … five shots.

            Now knowing her family was being slaughtered Mrs. Mayberry, too, was climbing the stairs to try to protect her children and her husband. Little did she know that only Nellie, her 14 year old daughter, remained alive. Confusion reigned in those seconds as Nellie, too, appeared on the second floor landing. Simultaneously, her mother was shot in the chest. As one, mother and daughter immediately turned to run back down the steps trying to escape the carnage. The next shot would not only kill Mrs. Mayberry, but Nellie would also be wounded. Count ‘em … seven shots.

            The ruckus had the little town up and wondering what the heck was going on. Lights were coming up in the handful of log structures that included a saloon, a general store, a post office and several private residences. Those that ventured out soon found they should have been more cautious in their curiosity of the disturbance.

            Pete Nelson, the saloon keep, ran to the kid killer when he saw him exit the Mayberry House and tried to wrestle the weapon from him. He was rewarded by being shot as well. He died on the street. Count ‘em … eight shots.

            Next, was the storekeeper, Herman Beck. He had just stepped out onto his porch when he was killed. Count ‘em … nine shots.

            At this point, the story is fraught with conjecture. One account is the killer took to the hills only to be caught in a return fire with three citizens the next morning. Another suggests he was shot as he tried to make a run for it from the crime scene (unstated as to time). What is known is that Rudolph Shultz, Charlie Berry, and Don Campbell were together when Justice of the Peace Berry laced the sorry man child as he started shooting at them trying to make them victim numbers eight, nine, and ten.  Count ‘em … at least 11 shots, eight dead, one wounded, and the entire town and, soon, the region horrified and shaken.

            No Time for Killers

            The magnitude of this calamity sounds familiar doesn’t it? Worthless kid shooter, innocence people slaughtered, blood everywhere, and questions unanswered.

What it has in relationship to the bloodletting we are experiencing in succession is that it is true. The motive appears to have been an argument over a watch the kid killer wanted. The reason ranges from his desire to run off and marry one of his victims, young Nellie Mayberry, but it might have just been more simplistic than that. He had been in town trying to strike it rich in a gold strike and wasn’t succeeding. He was down in the dumps.

What doesn’t equate to the current shootings is that it wasn’t an AR-15 that modern newspapers obsess over. Actually, the identity of the rifle is lost in history. From the date and place of the rampage, 1885 in little Bonita, New Mexico, it could have been a Winchester model ’73 or even a Spencer or a Henry. It could have even been a pistol that was repeatedly reloaded, but that is less likely. The evidence is lost in time. What we can surmise it was a repeater due to the time lapse in the destruction that took place.

We can also conclude the make or model of the weapon didn’t matter an iota to a citizenry that was intimately acquainted with firearms. The press didn’t give it any play, either. What was emphasized in the papers was the killer. He was treated as the despicable human that his actions deserved.

The entire town was in jeopardy as long as the killer had his field of carnage unobstructed. It was only because of quick thinking, quick acting and fire arm proficient, Charlie Berry, that the massacre wasn’t worse. He stepped in, put himself at added risk, and finished what had to be done. He couldn’t have done it with words or sticks. His friend, Pete Nelson, had proven he couldn’t get it done with fists, either. Charlie had to shoot, shoot fast, and shoot accurately. There remained innocent people thankful he did.

Times haven’t changed, have they? Too often, tragedy comes in human form. Let’s choose to uphold the action and courage of Charlie Berry.

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “The town didn’t feed the remains of the killer to the bears or the dogs like they may have wanted, but they did plant the body upside down so he wouldn’t roam the countryside as a ghost … really!”