An Abundance of Evidence

Despite much testimony, newspapers never did report what occasion prompted the beer party on the afternoon of Thursday, September 20, 1934. Clarence Arnold, a seed company employee, hosted the get-together at a cabin near Bozeman, Montana. We also don’t know how many men were there, although probably at least six to eight. Most likely they had gathered to chew the fat about hunting. Seasons were open for a wide variety of game, although some were restricted to specific days.

With so much beer flowing, an altercation seems almost inevitable: James Deskin, a farm hand and part-time auto mechanic, called visitor William Kelly a “vile name.” When the epithet was repeated, Kelly slapped Deskin in the face, twice. Kelly, although somewhat disabled and over 47 years old, was a big man, easily dominating Deskin, who was about 36. Then Clarence stepped in as a peace-maker and the two seemed to put aside the dispute. They even shook hands.

Shortly before 4:30 p.m., Deskin suggested that he, Clarence, and Kelly hunt grouse at a place he knew just south of town. The day was chilly – in the high forties – but fair and sunny. The light snow that had fallen the previous evening had melted and the soft ground should show any fresh tracks.

Ruffed Grouse.
U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service.

About a mile and a half south of downtown Bozeman, Deskin pulled to a stop on a secluded track – known locally as a “lovers’ lane.” Clarence stayed in the back seat while Kelly got out to take a look. Deskin circled behind the car, stepped up behind the big man, and fired his shotgun into his victim’s head and neck. Kelly was killed instantly, and Deskin growled, “No [blankety-blank] can slap me and get away with it.”

William J. Kelly was born in 1887 in Lakeville, Minnesota, about 22 miles south of Minneapolis. He was working at a flour mill when he enlisted in the Army in 1918. His unit, the 330th Machine Gun Battalion, fought in the Meuse-Argonne offensive that helped capture the vital railway hub at Sedan just before the Armistice. He was shot in the face, but recovered enough to stay in the Army for some time after his return. Kelly also had a disabled foot, but it’s not clear whether that was battle-related or happened in his later service.

His whereabouts for over a decade are difficult to reliably trace. He next appears in September 1931, when he was cited for a liquor law violation in Butte, Montana. He later had a couple of liquor violations in Helena. Then, on April 18, 1934, the Fort Harrison veterans’ hospital in Helena, Montana admitted him as a patient. There, he met Clarence Arnold.

Clarence Sylvester Arnold was born in 1891 in southwestern Missouri. He moved to Montana some time after 1910 and got married in Bozeman in late 1916. Clarence served briefly in the U.S. Navy during the World War but apparently did not see action. After that, he had various jobs in and around Bozeman. He suffered from Raynaud’s Syndrome, a rare circulatory disease that may have adversely impacted his heart. Clarence and his family were in Bozeman for the 1930 census, but he apparently traveled to the veterans’ hospital for periodic checkups and treatment.

James Deskin also lived in or near Bozeman, although we don’t know how he and Clarence were connected. He too was born in Missouri, in 1898, but not anywhere near where Clarence grew up. Born James Lloyd Dennis, he adopted his stepfather’s last name after his mother remarried some time before 1910. The family moved to Bozeman between 1910 and 1914. He enlisted in the Army but, like Clarence, served only briefly during the war and did not see action (or even leave the U.S.). Deskin married in 1926 and the couple had a daughter the following year. In 1929, he was arrested for car theft in Livingston, but spent only four months in jail. He and his family were back in Bozeman for the 1930 census.

As noted above, Clarence invited Deskin and Kelly, along with several others, to his beer party. Medical personnel stated that Kelly was “on furlough” from the hospital at the time. After his body was found, officials at first thought he had been a robbery victim. For reasons that never made the news, Clarence did not immediately report the shooting. He told his story only after he, Deskin, and two or three other men from the beer party were arrested.

By this time, criminologist Luke S. May had processed over two hundred death cases, including nearly twenty in Montana. Five years earlier, he had presided over the “most successful” annual meeting of the Northwest Association of Sheriffs and Police … which was held in Missoula. Somehow his teachings found their way to the officer in charge, Sheriff Lovitt I. Westlake.

Westlake was a typical sheriff for his time and place. Born in Iowa in 1896, he was farming near Bozeman when he signed up for the draft in 1917. He served with a veterinary unit in France during the War, then returned in April 1919. He continued in farming until voters elected him Gallatin County sheriff, his term starting in 1933. (He held that job for fourteen years, then served two terms in the state legislature.)

Early on, Sheriff Westlake had the presence of mind to call for May’s help. He and his deputies ended up with valuable physical evidence to support what Clarence said happened. Prosecutors charged James Deskin with first degree murder just four days after the shooting.

The trial began in Bozeman on November 21. As usual, the prosecution began with a review of the events on the day of the murder, suggesting means, motive, and opportunity. The shotgun wound was the obvious means, and the slapping incident provided the motive. Opportunity came with the notion, proposed by Deskin, to do a little hunting. Testimony from the coroner and from party guests – significantly, not including Clarence Arnold – confirmed these facts about the incident.

Next, in an interesting “tactical” move, the prosecution began presenting their “circumstantial” – that is, physical – evidence. Splatters were detected on Deskin’s car and on his shoes, and analysis proved them to be human blood. A footprint cast was very similar to one of Deskin’s shoes, and tire prints at the death scene matched his car. Last but not least, Luke May took the stand to testify that an empty shell found at the scene had been fired by Deskin’s shotgun.

Finally, Clarence gave his eye-witness testimony about the shooting. Oddly enough, news reports say nothing about the cross-examination by the defense. Presumably they did cross-examine him, but that apparently produced no fireworks. When their turn came, the defense countered with a witness who claimed to have seen the victim in downtown Bozeman an hour after the time of the shooting. That sighting could not be corroborated, however.

They next called Mrs. Grace Deskin as a witness. Under oath, she testified that after the party her husband had been with her either at home or “uptown,” all evening. The defense didn’t seem to bother with the matching footprints at the death scene. Nor did they address the spots of human blood on Deskin’s shoes. They perhaps hoped that the jury would consider all this new-fangled stuff too strange, and just ignore it.

James Deskin.
Montana Prison Records.

Oddly enough, the wife did attempt an explanation for the blood spots and tire prints that placed their car at the scene: Arnold and another party guest had borrowed the vehicle after they had all driven to the Deskins’ home. The empty shotgun shell? Well, any number of people could have borrowed the weapon from their home, or the “real” perpetrator could have planted the shell at the scene.

The jury didn’t buy any of the defense claims and took perhaps four hours to reach a “guilty” verdict. They did not, however, recommend the death penalty requested by the prosecution. Deskin was sentenced to life in prison. The wealth of evidence in this case led Luke May to do an “as told to” article for True Detective Mysteries magazine in its issue for February 1936.

Not quite three years after the trial ended, Clarence Arnold passed away at the Fort Harrison veterans’ hospital. Cause of death was listed as a heart attack, with Raynaud’s Disease as a contributory factor.

Some time before the summer of 1936, James and Grace Deskin divorced, although available records do not show exactly when. But in July 1942, Deskin’s life sentence was commuted to 20 years. He was almost immediately released from prison, having served less than eight years on the first-degree murder conviction. Grace and James remarried little over a month later, and soon moved to Wenatchee, Washington. Grace died in the summer of 1965 and James married again two years later. He passed away in 1979.

Although the veterans’ hospital had basic “next of kin” information for William Kelly, there’s no evidence that authorities in Bozeman made any attempt to contact the family. He was buried in the Sunset Hills Cemetery in Bozeman.
                                                                                

References: Brief History of Divisions, U.S. Army, 1917-1918, Combined Arms Research Library, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas (1921).

“[Kelly-Deskin News],” The Missoulian, Missoula, Montana Standard, Butte, Independent-Record, Helena, Great Falls Tribune, Billings Gazette, Montana (September 1931 – November 1949).

Luke S. May, Luke S. May Papers, Special Collections, University of Washington, Seattle, Washington (1969).

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