James Dean Walker, a man whose controversial case occupied much of my reporting for the Arkansas Democrat during 1984-85, has died at age 82 following an illness in his hometown of Boise, Idaho, according to an obituary in the Idaho Statesman.
When I began examining his case as Arkansas' supposedly "most infamous cop killer," Walker two decades earlier had twice been convicted of the April 16, 1963, murder of North Little Rock Patrolman Jerrell Vaughan.
He had become pretty much a household name statewide and even fodder for major national papers like The New York Times.
I took an interest after the late Little Rock attorney Gene Worsham, who represented Walker, reached out one day with information that had never come to light. So I picked up that thread and began to follow it.
His guilt initially seemed a foregone conclusion. The handsome early 20-something renegade who wore his collar turned up, combed his hair in ducktails and rolled cigarette packs in his T-shirt sleeve had been convicted in the court of public opinion as a "cop killer" by state newspapers on the day after Vaughan died from a single gunshot through the heart following a 2:30 a.m. traffic stop on the outskirts of North Little Rock.
My reporting showed the fatal shooting erupted after the Oldsmobile driven by Walker's friend Russell Kumpe, with Walker in the passenger seat and Linda Ford sandwiched between them, was stopped by Patrolman Gene Barrentine and Vaughan because radio reports said the car was occupied by unknown suspects involved in a Little Rock nightclub altercation.
Vaughan walked to the passenger side of the car and instructed Walker to open the door, which caused the dome light to shine on Walker and the pistol in his lap. Vaughan cried out that Walker had a gun and began firing, striking Walker five times in the leg and midsection.
He slumped in the seat, then out of the car onto the pavement on top of his loaded but unfired revolver clutched in his right hand. That fact was revealed by testimony of a cab driver who had initially contacted police that he'd sighted the suspect car and followed police to the scene. He also testified he was the one who rolled Walker over right after Vaughan fell and saw the loaded pistol in his hand.
In the melee, Barrentine, who was standing outside his patrol car to the left of and behind the suspects' vehicle, also began firing his pistol repeatedly, striking the car's trunk and rear window. When the gunfire ended, Vaughan lay dead in the roadside ditch.
Meanwhile, Kumpe, who had exited the driver's side, fled into a nearby ditch where Barrentine said he fired two shots at him. Kumpe later was captured.
Other police immediately arrived and took control. They soon said they'd found a Navy Surplus Model-V revolver, just like those in a shipment recently received by the North Little Rock Police Department, lying beneath the vehicle's trunk. Its serial number had been filed off and reportedly it had been fired five times.
The only way to make that version fit in my mind was if Walker, who was right-handed and still held his loaded pistol, had fired the Model-V revolver five times with his left hand then heaved it beneath the car as he rolled onto the ground. Why would anyone do that? Five shots with the left hand and only one supposedly struck Vaughan?
Walker, who steadfastly insisted he'd never shot the officer, came within a week of being put to death after his first trial in 1964. But the Arkansas Supreme Court reversed the conviction and death sentence on grounds of judicial prejudice. Following his conviction at a second trial, he was sentenced to life in prison.
While serving that sentence, Walker, who as a trusty was granted occasional furloughs to speak at civic clubs and churches, failed to return from a weekend furlough in 1975. He was arrested four years later in California on a drug charge and fought extradition for more than a year before being returned to Arkansas.
Walker told authorities he fled because officials of the Arkansas Department of Correction had threatened his life. This was unfolding during the time the Hollywood film "Brubaker," which was based on a nonfiction book about the Arkansas prison scandal, depicted the state prisons as a dark and evil world.
Walker's case began to draw increasing numbers of those who who questioned his guilt, including a number of female followers who often wrote to him in prison.
Walker won approval from the U.S. 8th Circuit Court of Appeals at St. Louis to serve his sentence at a federal correctional facility at El Reno, Okla. It was at El Reno where I initially met him after writing for many weeks about the contradictions, discrepancies and falsehoods in his case. For instance, the bullet that killed Officer Vaughan had fallen out onto his stretcher and was delivered to the state for testing, along with the Model-V revolver.
Officer Barrentine's revolver also was requested for examination, but he'd filed the barrel down to two inches before tests could be conducted, explaining he'd always wanted a snub-nosed pistol.
And while the single murder bullet had gone for examination with Vaughan's body, trial transcripts showed two officers testified they'd been the one who brought that bullet back to the police department. That sure sounded to me like two bullets were returned. I wondered why.
Then there was Kumpe, Walker's companion and driver that night, who years later would write in his diary while serving time for another crime that he looked at fellow inmate Walker and felt regret that he'd "fired too high that night."
Kumpe's ex-wife found the diary in a closet following their divorce. When I asked Kumpe about that passage during an interview at Cummins, he stood and walked out on our interview.
Later, the 8th Circuit ruled Walker was entitled to yet a third trial because of this new evidence. That resulted in a plea bargain whereby Walker, desperate to regain freedom after some 20 years, agreed to a convoluted manslaughter charge after agreeing with the rationale that Vaughan would never have died had Walker not been on the scene that night.
He was freed for time served and returned to Lake Tahoe and eventually Boise, where he worked as a cobbler and bootblack until dying in a Boise hospital on Jan. 24, 2023.
Walker was an Army veteran raised in foster care who, as a young man, was cut from much the same rebellious mold as the late James Dean of Hollywood. In his later years, those who befriended him said he had become a religious person with a wide circle of friends, including politicians and government officials who were customers.
I'll be surprised if his story isn't made into a film one day, either by Hollywood or a streaming service, each voracious for true-life material.
The overall reporting effort I labeled "Beyond a Reasonable Doubt" certainly contained ample elements for drama and excitement, all validated in the extensive official records.
There's no question Walker lived one of the more challenging lifetimes imaginable for anyone, and survived 82 years to die peacefully, on his own terms, in the same hospital where he was born.
Now go out into the world and treat everyone you meet exactly like you want them to treat you.
Mike Masterson is a longtime Arkansas journalist, was editor of three Arkansas dailies and headed the master's journalism program at Ohio State University. Email him at [email protected].