By Mike Simmons
58-year-old John Mickleberry Holloway didn’t have time for nonsense. He was a hardworking farmer, the overall-wearing kind. Like most farmers, he had work to do. He and his wife, Daisy had seven children – four girls and three boys.
The Holloway family lived on a farm in Molino, in the northwestern part of the Florida panhandle. As the kids got older, the boys helped in the field while the girls helped Daisy with the house chores. At the end of the day, the parents would sit and listen to the radio while the kids spent times with their friends.
As they got older, the kids attended the few events that a small country community offers. Activities such as barn dances, school functions, and church activities were the highlights of the teenagers.
It didn’t last long, however. The older Holloway boys, as well as the other boys in the community, received word through the mail that they had volunteered to fight for the United States in World War I. From 1914-1918, their lives, and the lives of the young ladies, were put on hold.
When young, beautiful, Genella – Ella, as she was called – first laid eyes on him, she was smitten. His name was Toy Perry. He had sure grown up since he left for the war. He noticed her also and decided to pursue her. It worked, because they soon married. The children followed – all four of them.
John and Daisy didn’t like it. They didn’t like it at all. But what can you tell a 23-year-old woman with four children? Toy turned out to be exactly what they feared, a ne’er-do-well. He drank too much, didn’t want to work to support his family, and simply lived off his government check. Mind you, he didn’t use the government check for the wife and kids, he drank it up. John and Daisy took Ella and the kids in. No, John didn’t like Toy. The feeling was mutual.
Toy was involved in one thing – moonshining. In 1927, he was at his “job” when he recklessly crashed into another man, ruining his car. When the police came, fingers were pointed at his friend John Webb, which was okay with him. John was stuck with the blame. Finally, at court, Toy stood up and confessed to being the driver. Two years later, he was arrested for moonshining in Molino. It happened twice more in the next year. He finally was sent to jail to do time.
When he got out and got his check, he went to the liquor store and got tanked up. He stayed drunk for three days. Then he decided to come to see his wife. So, on April 18, 1931, in a drunken stupor, he approached John’s house and demanded to be let in.
John insisted that he answer the front door. When he opened it, his drunk son-in-law was standing there.
“I wanna see my wife,” he said, his speech slurred and his eyes red with bloodshot.
John looked him in the eye and said in a cold, even tone, “Get away from here.”
It took a few seconds for those words to make their way through the haze that was Toy’s mind. In a half-offended, half-drunken state, he staggered off, promising to come back and beat the old man.
The next day, sure to his word, Toy showed up. As he was approaching the front door, he said loudly, “Look out, Ol’ Man. I’m coming!” John opened the door and told him to leave.
“No, old man,” he said. “I am fixing to beat you to death!” Again, John told him to leave, but he again threatened the old farmer. This bothered the old man. He didn’t want to hurt his son-in-law. He knew he had the legal right to protect his property, but he was a good man. He didn’t like this.
On the other hand, he knew, as any self-respecting man does, that he had to protect his family. He had tried to talk to Toy, but it wasn’t working. He finally made up his mind that, no matter what transpired, he was not going to let any of his family suffer at this man’s hand. He reached over the fireplace and pulled down his double-barreled, 12-gauge shotgun. He kept it loaded with buckshot. His daughter was in the other room with her kids, so they couldn’t see anything.
Daisy thought about trying to stop him, but she knew him. They had been married for more than thirty years. She knew that he was going to protect her and his family. She just stood and prayed.
The old farmer opened the door and again ordered his son-in-law to leave. The fool, though, smirked and threatened John again. From less than five feet away, John let loose with one barrel and then the other. The first one struck Toy in the chest. He spun around and the other one struck him in the back.
Each shot from a 12 gauge 00 buckshot has nine pellets. Each pellet is 0.33 inches in diameter. So, eighteen pellets went into the body of Toy Perry. Some went completely through him. He slowly slumped to the ground, dead before he got there.
John calmly called the police and waited for them to get there. When the deputy arrived, he handed the shotgun to him and surrendered. He didn’t say a word about what happened. He was taken to the county jail in Pensacola. Deputies, supervisors, detectives and reporters asked him a hundred questions. John maintained his silence.
John was remanded to custody for over two months. He was a model prisoner. His family visited him regularly. John, always dressed in his overalls, kept his family assured. He maintained a positive attitude about his future, even if deep inside he wasn’t as sure as he purported to be.
The day finally came. John may have been nervous inside, but his apprehension didn’t show. He maintained a calm demeaner and kept silent.
As most hearings do, small distractors kept the trial from starting until after 10:00 AM. Finally, the state laid out its case. Then came the defense. The only witness was John Holloway. He told his story.
The jury got the case by 4:30 PM. After only 90 minutes of deliberations, they came back – Not Guilty.
The lesson – don’t mess with a dad, especially if he owns a double barreled shotgun!
Mike