The most debated moment in Old West history begins with a sheriff’s claim that he shot and killed the most notorious outlaw of the era in a darkened bedroom in 1881. For nearly a century and a half, questions have lingered about whether Pat Garrett truly ended Billy the Kid’s life that night at Fort Sumner, or whether the accepted story has been shaped by missing records, political ambition, and frontier myth. The controversy gained new life through the claims of a man who died in Hico, Texas in 1950. William Henry Roberts, known as Brushy Bill during his time as a stagecoach scout in Idaho’s Black Hills, initially denied any connection to the outlaw but later asserted he was the man believed to have died at Fort Sumner on July 14th, 1881.
Supporters pointed to physical similarities in stature, facial features, and mannerisms noted by those who had known the Kid decades earlier. Photographic comparisons conducted by researchers at the University of Texas at Austin and later reviewed by the FBI were discussed in the 2005 book “Billy the Kid Beyond the Grave. ” These findings sparked public interest, though most mainstream historians remain unconvinced, arguing the evidence is inconclusive and that documentation from 1881 still supports Garrett’s account. Roberts also demonstrated detailed knowledge of people, places, and events in late 1870s and early 1880s New Mexico Territory.
His familiarity with frontier life prompted renewed debate about earlier sources, particularly Garrett’s 1882 book “The Authentic Life of Billy the Kid,” written with Marshall Ashmun “Ash” Upson. Modern historians have frequently criticized that book for embellishment, factual errors, and self-serving narrative choices that helped shape enduring myths about the Kid. Supporters of Roberts’ claim point to a family genealogy reportedly found in a Bible among his belongings. That record included surnames such as Bonney, McCarty, and Antrim, names historically associated with Billy the Kid, who was born Henry McCarty and later used the alias William H.
Bonney, with Antrim being his stepfather’s surname. Critics maintain that the traditional account still holds. They argue the Kid was right-handed while Roberts was described as left-handed, that the Kid spoke fluent Spanish whereas Roberts supposedly did not, and that deputies John Poe and Thomas Kip McKinney agreed with Garrett that the man who died at Fort Sumner was indeed Billy the Kid. Some researchers have also cited family testimony suggesting Roberts was actually Oliver P.
Roberts, a different individual with documented life records. Proponents counter that Roberts was ambidextrous and capable of speaking Spanish, and that later statements attributed to Poe and McKinney were more nuanced than often presented. Portions of Poe’s published recollections differ from Garrett’s 1882 narrative, particularly regarding identification of the body in the darkened room. Historical records show that William Henry Roberts sometimes used variations of his name, while Oliver P.
Roberts appears to have been a separate individual, likely a relative, whose identity was occasionally conflated with his own in later research. One of the most significant points of contention involves the inquest and burial of the man Garrett said was Billy the Kid. According to traditional accounts, Fort Sumner postmaster Milner Rudolph was called from his home several miles away during the early hours of July 15th, 1881, to oversee an inquest. When Rudolph arrived, he found the settlement emotionally charged, with Garrett and his deputies inside the bedroom of rancher Pete Maxwell, wary of possible retaliation from residents sympathetic to the Kid.
Inside Maxwell’s room lay the body of the young man Garrett had confronted only hours earlier. Rudolph selected five local men for a coroner’s jury, and the inquest was conducted in the same bedroom where the body remained on the floor. Historians have noted an inconsistency here. In “The Authentic Life of Billy the Kid,” Garrett stated that the body had been moved shortly after the incident to a nearby carpenter’s shop where it was prepared for viewing.
If that account is accurate, it raises questions about why the body would have been returned to Maxwell’s room for the inquest. During the inquest, Garrett and Maxwell described the events of the previous night. Rudolph then prepared a written report signed by the jurors, with those unable to write indicating their agreement with a mark. The official verdict stated that William Bonney had died from a gunshot wound to the chest inflicted by Patrick F.
Garrett, and that the action was considered justified under the circumstances. For reasons that remain unclear, the coroner’s report prepared by Rudolph was never formally recorded in the official archives of San Miguel County. Likewise, Fort Sumner Justice of the Peace Alejandro Segura made no entry referencing the inquest in his surviving docket books. Historians have noted this absence of documentation is unusual, though not entirely unheard of in frontier communities.
Adding to the uncertainty is evidence suggesting that more than one inquest may have been conducted on July 15th, 1881. A. P. Anaya, who later served in the New Mexico legislature, reportedly told the editor of New Mexico magazine that he and another man were summoned that very night to serve on an earlier jury.
According to Anaya, that first panel drafted a brief statement concluding that the Kid had died at the hands of Officer Garrett, though questions persist about whether those jurors formally viewed the body. Anaya further claimed that the original verdict was later misplaced and replaced with a second, more detailed report allegedly prepared with the involvement of Garrett and Manuel Abreu, Maxwell’s son-in-law. The second document reportedly bore different signatures and included misspellings of jurors’ names. Historian Frank Richard Prassel, in “The Great American Outlaw,” observed that 19th century law officers typically took care to confirm the identity of deceased fugitives to prevent accusations of mistaken identity and ensure eligibility for reward payments.
In that context, the rapid burial and lack of extensive public verification in Fort Sumner stand out as notable departures from customary practice. Garrett did not arrange for the body to be publicly displayed, nor did he pose for a commemorative photograph, actions occasionally undertaken in high-profile cases during that era. Some accounts suggest Garrett kept the body inside Pete Maxwell’s bedroom overnight, allowing only a limited number of people to view it. Whether this was done for security reasons or to control the situation remains unclear.
Several attempts to locate the official coroner’s document have failed. Historian William A. Keleher, in “Violence in Lincoln County,” wrote that a Spanish-language report tied to the second inquest was allegedly discovered in the 1930s in the office of the Commissioner of Public Lands in Santa Fe, only to later disappear. This claim has never been independently verified.
Garrett himself stated that he filed the report with the District Attorney in Las Vegas, the seat of San Miguel County, yet no confirmed archival record has been located there. In 1949, New Mexico Secretary of State Alicia Romero indicated that her office possessed no official coroner’s verdict concerning the death of William H. Bonney. In August 1951, Fourth Judicial District Attorney Jose E.
Armijo stated in writing that no coroner’s report concerning the death of Billy the Kid was then or had ever been on file in his office. That same month, Lincoln County War researcher Maurice G. Fulton announced that he possessed a photostatic copy of an inquest document, which he claimed to have found among reward-related papers in the office of the Secretary of the Territory of New Mexico. However, Fulton did not clearly specify whether the copy referred to the first or second reported inquest, and his assertion was quickly questioned by other historians.
No independently verified version of the document has ever been produced. Most professional historians emphasize that the absence of a surviving document does not necessarily mean that no legal proceeding occurred, especially given the uneven preservation of 19th century frontier records. Pat Garrett encountered difficulty when attempting to collect the $500 reward offered for the Kid’s capture. On July 20th, 1881, he petitioned for payment but was denied by acting Governor W.
G. Rich, who reportedly questioned whether the legal requirements for the reward had been fully satisfied. Some historians argue the denial stemmed from procedural issues in Garrett’s application, while others speculate that uncertainty over documentation contributed to the hesitation. According to author John Tuska in “Billy the Kid: A Handbook,” a later coroner’s report was written by Manuel Abreu and included signatures from individuals who may not have participated in the original proceedings.
Tuska also noted that portions of the language appeared carefully phrased in a way that would support Garrett’s claim to the reward. In February 1882, Garrett reportedly hosted members of the New Mexico Territorial Legislature shortly before lawmakers approved legislation authorizing reward funds connected to the Kid’s capture. Some commentators have portrayed this as political maneuvering, while others view it as routine networking common among office holders of the time. The legislative act credited Garrett with killing Billy the Kid, though it reportedly misstated the month of the event.
The burial itself has also been subject to debate. Most accounts indicate that following the second inquest on July 15th, 1881, the body was prepared for burial and placed in a simple wooden coffin constructed locally. That same afternoon, it was laid to rest in the Fort Sumner military cemetery beside Tom O’Folliard and Charlie Bowdre, two known associates of the Kid. In “Pat Garrett: The Story of a Western Lawman,” historian Leon Metz raised the theoretical possibility that identification procedures were not as rigorous as they might have been.
Metz noted that Poe and McKinney had limited prior familiarity with the Kid’s appearance and may have relied heavily on Garrett’s assertion. On July 28th, 1881, the Grant County Herald of Silver City published an obituary titled “Exit the Kid. ” Its editor, S. M.
Ashinfelter, wrote that after escaping from the Lincoln County Jail, Billy the Kid had grown a beard and darkened his complexion to resemble a Mexican. There is no clear evidence that Ashinfelter was present in Fort Sumner. Only six and a half months earlier, however, J. H.
Kugler of the Las Vegas Gazette had personally interviewed the Kid while he awaited transfer to Mesilla for trial. Kugler described him as youthful in appearance, slender, about 5 feet 8 or 9 inches tall, weighing around 140 pounds, with light hair, fair complexion, blue eyes, and only a fine silky trace of facial hair on his upper lip. The contrast between Kugler’s first-hand description and Ashinfelter’s later account of a bearded, darker-complexioned man has fueled debate among later writers. In “Alias Billy the Kid,” C.
L. Sonnichsen and William V. Morrison referenced a 1914 interview with Arthur Hyde, who claimed that the individual killed at Fort Sumner was not the Kid but a young Mexican man. The book also recounts statements attributed to William Henry Roberts, who alleged that the deceased was a man named Billy Barlow, said to resemble the Kid but to have darker features and facial hair.
Some authors have cited developmental research by J. M. Tanner, particularly his work “Growth at Adolescence,” to argue that a rapid transition from light facial fuzz to a full dark beard within six and a half months would be biologically unlikely for someone already in early adulthood. Medical experts caution that individual variation can be significant, and facial hair patterns differ widely among men.
Claims that the deceased man’s skin had been artificially darkened have also been viewed skeptically. There is no documented evidence that such cosmetic alteration occurred, and practical considerations such as preparation of the body for burial would likely have revealed any artificial staining. In a March 1980 issue of Frontier Times, writer Ben Kemp recounted information passed down by his uncle John Graham, a long-time Fort Sumner resident who had reportedly known Billy the Kid. Graham claimed that on the morning after the 1881 incident, he and another man were instructed to dig a grave for the individual identified by Garrett as the Kid.
According to Graham’s recollection, when the wagon bearing the coffin reached the cemetery, it was accompanied by an armed guard who insisted that no one open it. Additional oral traditions have added to the uncertainty. Verna Reed of Carlsbad, New Mexico reportedly stated that her great-grandfather Joseph Wood assisted with the burial and later maintained that the coffin did not contain the Kid. Historians note that there is no verified record from 1881 confirming such a substitution, and these assertions rely primarily on family lore collected many years later.
The original wooden grave marker at Fort Sumner was eventually destroyed, reportedly by weather and misuse. In a 1938 interview published in “They Knew Billy the Kid,” Carlotta Baca stated that few residents could precisely identify the grave’s original location. Compounding the confusion, the cemetery also contained the remains of numerous soldiers, some unidentified. When military remains were relocated in 1906 to the Santa Fe National Cemetery, rumors circulated that the Kid’s grave may have been disturbed, though no reliable evidence supports that claim.
Over the past century, the Pecos River has flooded numerous times, causing significant damage to the old Fort Sumner Cemetery, which lay on a vulnerable flood plain. Powerful flood waters displaced headstones, wooden markers, and even burial materials. In 1937, four men said to have served as pallbearers for the individual identified in 1881 as Billy the Kid were reportedly brought to the site to help determine the original grave location. According to later reports, each man pointed to a different spot.
Unable to reach agreement, they chose a compromise location roughly centered among their selections, and a marker was placed there. Oral history suggests that another major flood in 1943 may have further disturbed the grounds. Today, the marked graves of Billy the Kid and his associates are prominent attractions in Fort Sumner. Historians acknowledge, however, that repeated flooding and the loss of early markers make absolute certainty about the exact burial location difficult.
In the early 21st century, researchers sought permission to exhume the remains for forensic testing in hopes of resolving long-standing questions. Local authorities declined the request, citing preservation concerns and legal considerations. Without exhumation and modern analysis, the debate cannot be conclusively settled through physical evidence. While some writers point to missing documentation, conflicting recollections, and later criticisms of Garrett’s published account as reasons for skepticism, the majority of professional historians maintain that the cumulative contemporary evidence supports the conclusion that Billy the Kid died in July 1881.
The surviving evidence points strongly toward the Kid’s death, but the gaps, contradictions, and lost documents ensure that absolute certainty remains just out of reach.
