Woodward, OK, Cheap Apartments and Murder

On Labor Day Weekend of 1974, Woodward, Oklahoma was rocked by a heinous quadruple murder. Twenty-five years later, I moved in next door. Read on.

In the morning my mom took me shopping where we bought boots and some clothes to blend. After getting together some supplies with my mother's help, I slid along the plains in my rented Nissan Sentra from the capitol of Oklahoma to the land of wind power.

I had arranged my apartment last week. If it were New York City I would’ve used Craigslist, but Woodward is so far out it’s off the Craigslist map. I had to get creative and used the Woodward newspaper’s online edition. There I found the number for a one bedroom apartment for $400, so I called to arrange a place. The man on the line seemed surprised that I was going to take the place without seeing it. On the way out to Woodward, I gave the man a call and he said that he would leave the place open for me. The land I crossed was very flat and has a beauty that consists mostly of its expanses. Directions to Woodward go like this, head west on I-40 to Exit 108, take that road north about 25 miles and then turn left at the big grain elevator, you’ll know the one. That’s about it.

The town of Woodward has two major streets, Highway 34 going North/South, and Highway 15 which runs East/West. There are a handful of traffic lights and a huge grain elevator. I’ll definitely be checking it out over the next few weeks.

I pulled into the apartment complex and having seen it from above on google maps I knew it would be a few separate buildings. My apartment is in a squat three-unit building. To my north and east is open pasture. Boiling Springs State Park is a few miles down the road. The door to the apartment wasn’t open as promised but as I was about to call a small, older man with a sturdy frame and hands made of pumice came out, he was preceded by a small dog and two small children. He showed me the place, which has brown shag carpet and faux wood paneling. Sadly, the previous tenants were smokers. I doubt that smell will ever come out of the shag carpet. There’s a kitchen table, a suspicious looking bed, a maroon recliner that’s seen better days, and a cart on wheels. I get free cable and HBO, but I have to pay extra for internet. For some reason I am also blessed with Showtime.

I handed the man a check for the place and asked him where the Wal-Mart was. He gave me some directions and then walked through a mental checklist making sure we’d taken care of everything. He then nodded and said, “You know where the Wal-Mart is, you’re pretty much set.” Words to live by.

I headed out, hungry for some food. I had looked up the town before I came and all I could find as far a Mexican food went was a place called Taco Factory. That didn’t sound too encouraging. Fortunately I saw a place called Ramiro’s. But before I ate I wanted to find internet. Knowing that sometimes fast food restaurants occasionally have free wi-fi, I pulled into the parking lot of a Braum’s restaurant. There I had no luck finding an unsecured signal, so I drove down a bit to Pizza Hut, where I briefly pinged a network labeled The Red Country Inn. A quick check of the rearview mirror revealed the Red Country Inn marquee, underscored by the ubiquitous religious quote. I crossed Highway 34 and parked outside one of the rooms. After a quick check of my email, I went to eat. Ramiro’s was a nice place, winner of the Woodward New best Mexican food award. It happened to be next to another inn that offered free internet and did some work on my blog there.

After dinner I went to Wal-Mart and stocked up on supplies for my stay. When I returned home it was after dark, but the moon is so bright out here that you might think it’s still dusk. The light cast a shadow, I was hoping there would be some stars to look at, but they were blocked out by the intense glow of Lady Luna. I unpacked my groceries and my stuff while listening to the Yankees take on the Phillies. It was then that I noticed suspicious holes in the cabinetry that looked like bullet holes. What happened here? Apparently the place was loaned to rail workers before who were allegedly neat, except they occasionally shot holes in the cabinetry. Little did I know…

The next day I was to find out that nearby these apartments or perhaps in the same lot, a family of four was brutally shot to death. I’m including a link to the actually court opinion on the case which details the murders. On September 3rd, Bob Patee went to see what was going on with his friend Mervin Thrasher. Thrasher had failed to show up for work a few days ago and hadn’t answered any of Patee’s calls. When Patee investigated at 10:30 one evening he found the Thrasher home dark. He shined a flashlight into the home’s bedroom window only to have it alight on the body of Sandra Thrasher.

According to court documents sometime during the weekend someone entered the Thrasher home, tied 28 year old Mervin Thrasher’s hands behind his back, tied up his wife, 27 year old Sandra Thrasher, binding her hands and feet together and then proceeded to shoot Mervin in the head three times with a .22 caliber rifle belonging to the Thrashers. Mervin’s wife Sandra was shot in the head twice, the Thrasher’s 5-year-old daughter Penelope was shot in the head three times and their 18-month-old son Robert was shot in the head two times.

This brutal murder was later pinned on Billy Wayne Collins. While Collins confessed to the crime he blamed the murders on a drifter he called Jerry Prowess. According to Collins, Prowess threatened to kill Collins if he said anything. Collins dropped the man off at the edge of town. The murder weapon was never found.

Collins was sentenced to death which was later commuted to a life sentence. He was up for parole last July. It’s a horrible and somewhat inconclusive story. I am left to wonder if this Jerry Prowess is a figment of Collins imagination, or if there is a man still wandering the highways of America with an old .22 rifle slung over his shoulder.