Copyright © 1996 by Jimmy Dale Taylor and Donald G. Bross
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever, including electronic, mechanical, or any information storage or retrieval, except as may be expressly permitted in the 1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the publisher.
Requests for permission should be addressed to:
New Horizon Press
P.O. Box 669
Far Hills, NJ 07931
Taylor, Jimmy Dale and Bross, Donald G.
Mountain Madness: A Deadly Night, A Bloody Secret, A True Story
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 96-68930
ISBN-13 (eBook): 978-0-88282-530-4
Retitled Murder on Shadow Mountain
New Horizon Press
2000 1999 1998 1997 1996 5 4 3 2 1
To my wife, Jeannie,
and to our children,
Lynn, Julie, and Andy.
— J. D. T.
To my wife, Dixie Lee.
— D. G .B.
Contents
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Prologue
1. A Nation Divided
2. Quail on the Fly
3. Dead Indian Mountain
4. Gunfight
5. Falling Down the Mountain
6. Wild Woman
7. Terrified Witness
8. Jimmy’s Run
9. Into the Fire
10. Cold Trail
11. Crazy Man
12. Mating Time
13. Don’t Look Back
14. Home at Last
15. Electronic Cop
16. Welcome to Hell
17. Another Jail
18. Surviving
19. The Defense
20. Jailhouse Lawyers
21. Unhappy Reunion
22. Jimmy’s Last Chance
23. The Verdict
24. Home Again
Epilogue
Update: Free to Live
Mountain Madness is a true story told from the viewpoint of Jimmy and Jeannie Taylor. The events and dialogue have been reconstructed from court records, letters, interviews and the memories of participants.
Some names have been changed in order to protect the privacy of individuals and in some instances physical characteristics have been altered. Jimmy Dale and Jeannie Taylor, as well as the others in this chronicle, have all experienced the joys and the hell described herein.
Special thanks to my attorneys, Myron Gitnes and Richard Garbutt, along with private investigator Paul Arritola for pursuing the truth and finding it.
To all my family and friends for sticking by me during the darkest of times.
Also, thanks to Donald Bross for seeing to it that the story is told.
— J. D.T
Special thanks to Joan Dunphy, Editor-in-Chief at New Horizon Press, for her patience and persistence. Thanks, Joan, for providing us with this opportunity.
— D. G. B.
Jimmy sat at the table, steam rising from the coffee in his cup. He lifted his head and smiled at slender little Jeannie with her dark eyes and long brown hair. Time only increased the love he felt for this woman. He couldn’t imagine life without her.
The years had been kind to his wife, he realized looking at her. After seventeen years, he still liked to hear the sound of her voice. She had retained her classy Boston accent. He still felt that intense attraction to her. I hope she feels the same about me, he mused.
Jeannie eyed her man as, lost in his thoughts, he toyed with his coffee cup. He had cared for her. He had provided for his family. They had seen the country, but they had suffered through some lean times, too. She wished he didn’t look so tired, that they had more time to just be together. She didn’t like the long hours Jimmy was having to work, but he was bringing home a good and steady paycheck.
And they needed every bit of it. The ever rising cost of raising three children made sure they hadn’t set aside the nest egg they had always been planning to.
“Hey, Babe, cheer up,” Jimmy said. “It’s a good day.”
Jeannie forced a smile. “Who can be cheerful at this time of the morning? I’m not so sure the day is going to be all that good, Duke. Don’t ask me why, but I have a feeling something is going to happen.”
“Something with the kids?” he asked, suddenly fearful.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what. I just got this feeling.”
“Oh, it’s probably nothing,” he said. “You know how sensitive you are.”
“You’re probably right.” She smiled back at him. “Are you going to be working in town today?”
“No, I’ll be out west. I’ll pick up Matt in a few minutes and head out. Probably won’t be back until late.”
At an hour when most people were just rising, Jimmy left for work. Jeannie sat alone. She felt a cold chill pass over her, as though someone had rubbed ice on her neck. What in the world is wrong with me? she wondered.
In another part of town the posse was assembling. Two deputies from Jackson County, Oregon, had flown in to take control of the prisoner. They hoped to escort the fugitive back to Medford where he would stand trial.
A deputy was already cruising the alley behind the man’s home and soon reported back: “Too late. His work truck is gone.” Now they would have to wait. And hunt. Patrol the neighborhood. Perhaps he was still in town. They couldn’t ask his boss. If the fugitive got word of their pursuit, he might leave his family and run.
It was the middle of the morning. The children had gone to school, and Jeannie had switched to drinking hot tea when Tina’s sharp bark sounded an alarm. Looking out the back door, Jeannie thought she caught a glimpse of a police car driving down the alley before it disappeared behind their long shed. Or was it a sheriff s car? She shivered.
Why would a police car be here? Jeannie wondered. They certainly hadn’t committed a crime. Their worst brush with the law, so far as she knew, was when Jimmy had received a ticket for not having an inspection sticker on their car. They hadn’t paid it yet. They don’t send officers