“Hindsight is 20/20,” goes the saying. And, with that advantage, it can instill an aura of inevitability to events. That seems like the case for the short, unhappy life of Henry John Zorn, aka Henry John Miller, aka Henry Doyle, aka Henry J. Bertrand, aka Henry J. Brown. He was born in Regina on March 11, 1909, shortly after his parents, Frank and Josephine (Schwanke) Zorn, arrived in Canada from Moldova (then part of Russia, just east of Romania).
At some point, for unknown reasons, his father began using the name John (or Frank) Miller. Perhaps that was when he smuggled the family across the border into the United States in 1912-1914. They settled in Malta, a village in east-central Montana about 45 miles south of the Canadian border. But Miller abandoned the family in late 1915, leaving Josephine to support seven children, ranging in age from four months to nine years. With no husband, no particular skills, and probably labored English, she naturally struggled. As Head of Household for the 1920 census, she listed her occupation as laundress. She gave the last name as “Miller,” and Henry went by that name after that … when he wasn’t using an alias.
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| Miles City, ca 1935. Vintage Postcard. |
Henry [Zorn] Miller first appeared at the school in December 1920, when he was eleven years old. There was a burglary charge involved, but his record gives “Incorrigibility” as his reason for being there. That strongly suggests that Josephine had thrown up her hands at trying to control him. Still, in keeping with the rehabilitation goal, the boys were kept on a fairly loose leash as they went about their daily assignments. Thus, in 1926, Henry “escaped” – most likely meaning he simply walked away.
His five-plus years at the Industrial School had given him a full “common school” education plus a range of vocational skills. But that provided little grounds for “white collar” work, while most manual jobs required a robust physique. At just over 5-feet, 1-inch in height, with a slender build, Henry was unlikely to impress potential employers. It seems inevitable (there’s that word) that he would turn to crime … specifically, burglary.
However, he was apparently not especially skilled at that endeavor. He was caught in Minnesota, under the name Henry Doyle, and convicted for a half dozen burglaries. With a cumulative twenty year sentence, Henry was registered at the Minnesota State Reformatory on October 10, 1926. There, he was identified as Miller. Then Arthur Dorr’s Minnesota connections gave Henry a break. Dorr was convinced that Miller could be rehabilitated. He got Henry released back to Montana in the summer of 1929 and found him a ranch job.
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| Henry [Zorn] Miller. Montana State Prison. |
Henry paid him back by burglarizing his safe at the school. Soon caught, he was sentenced to five years at the Montana State Prison, being admitted as Henry Miller on October 26, 1929. After two or three years, he was released and deported back to Canada. But he returned and was spotted in Miles City. That violated Federal law, and this time he was sentenced to Federal prison. By now, his proper name had been discovered and Henry John Zorn was registered at McNeil Island, the Federal prison near Tacoma, on April 16, 1933. Again deported upon his release, he was caught illegally crossing the border in late June of 1934. However, he quickly escaped detention and vanished.
Had Alice (Dorr) Jones been a heavy sleeper, tragedy might have been avoided. Daughter of Superintendent Dorr, she had married Lester Thomas Jones in March of 1927. Lester was born November 21, 1905 in Miles City. After graduating from Custer County High School there, he received a scholarship to continue his education at the University of Montana. Besides his classes, he played on the school’s football team (he had played football in high school). He was also accepted into the Phi Sigma Kappa fraternity.
Lester joined the Industrial School faculty in late 1926 or early 1927. After he and Alice married, they moved into a two-room unit in the school’s Administration Building, across the hall from offices for Lester and the Superintendent.
August 12th was a typically hot summer day in eastern Montana, and Alice had trouble getting to sleep. The intruder couldn’t avoid some noise as he crept into the Administration Building not long after midnight. At first, Alice may have thought she was hearing ordinary creaks and groans. But then the burglar had to force the door of the superintendent’s office.
Alice prodded Lester awake, and he quickly donned a robe and went across to confront the prowler. She could make out only scraps of dialog … and then heard three quick gunshots. Seconds later, the shooter slammed out of the office, dashed to the main entrance, and bolted out. All she could register was that the intruder was short, dark, and slender. Hit twice, once directly in the heart, Lester Jones didn’t live long enough to have any last words.
The school’s Parole Officer supplemented Alice’s scant description of the killer. Alerted by the gunfire, he caught a glimpse from a second floor window. The fugitive’s footsteps were relatively light and very rapid; he had to be small and have a short stride. The killer left many clues inside: slugs from his weapon, a flashlight, an easily-remembered cap (“a gaudy checkered thing”), shards of light brown glass, a railroad spike, and marks on the door jamb. Outside, a searcher found another railroad spike alongside a pair of goggles with one lens broken out. The goggles – perhaps worn as a rudimentary disguise – were the source of the brown shards.
Superintendent Dorr immediately speculated that the burglar was a former School inmate; he seemed to know the layout well. Suspicion soon fell on Henry Miller. He had, after all, robbed the same safe before. And he fit the killer’s description, although Alice – who remembered him well from earlier – thought the intruder was darker. The resulting dragnet focused on the rail lines since the escapee had not run to an automobile. Many potential suspects were rounded up, but were soon released.
Henry became a more promising suspect when a “good enough” match to his fingerprint was found on the inside of the flashlight lens. That didn’t prove it had been he who left the light behind, but he would surely have some explaining to do. But where was he? Most people in and around Miles City only remembered him going off to McNeil Island in the spring of 1933. (The June 1934 detention and escape at the border apparently came out later.)
Then a tipster told police that Henry had been seen recently near a residential hotel in Billings, Montana. Diligent police work soon dredged up an ex-convict who had befriended Henry in prison. After some foot-dragging, he admitted that Henry had visited him on August 10th. He also stated that he had three messages from Henry, sent from eastern North Dakota. He had used the aliases “Henry J. Bertrand” and “Henry J. Brown.” Henry had left a suitcase in the ex-con’s room, and asked him to send it to Minneapolis, addressed to “Brown.” Montana officials hurriedly informed authorities there. Thus, on August 18, the fugitive was grabbed when he asked at the express office for any package in “his” name. He still carried what turned out to be the murder weapon.
It’s not entirely clear when Montana authorities brought private criminologist Luke S. May into the case. They may have consulted with him even before the arrest. They certainly did after Zorn’s attorney entered a “Not Guilty” plea. (Of course, officials now had his proper name.) In fact, the prosecutor personally carried several key pieces of evidence to Seattle, including Zorn’s revolver.
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| H&R .22-caliber Revolver. Gun Sales Site. |
The ex-convict from Billings was one of the first witnesses called when the trial began on October 2, 1934. Henry had told him on August 10 that he planned to rob the safe at the Industrial School. It would be “a cinch” since he knew the layout thoroughly. Still, just in case, he might go armed this time. The ex-con said he shrugged off the burglary plan, but adamantly refused to help him get a gun. Later that day, the ex-con observed that Henry had found himself a weapon. He didn't see him again until the young man was arrested.
We never do learn how Henry obtained the revolver. Several witnesses followed, including the coroner and Luke May. The trajectory of the fatal bullet to the heart, along with powder grains on Jones’ robe, showed that the shot was aimed at close range.
The defense called just one witness: Josephine (Schwanke, Zorn, Miller) Adams. She had married yet again in 1925, and lived in Butte with her latest husband and son. She testified about the terrible life that Henry John had lived. A father with secrets (Why did he change his name?), who dragged them illegally into this country, and then abandoned them when Henry was a mere child. Was it any wonder he grew up angry and frustrated? But she still loved him, and pleaded for a life sentence rather than the death penalty.
The jury took little time on a “Guilty” verdict, but finally gave up on a sentence when one holdout refused to vote for the death penalty. After eight hours of futile argument, they left that up to the judge. The judge spent two or three days reviewing everything about the case. In the end, he found no mitigating circumstances: Zorn had deliberately planned a crime against those who had tried to help him. He had then gone out of his way to procure a deadly weapon, and fired a shoot intended to kill. The judge concluded: “I feel that under my oath, I have a duty I cannot shirk.”
Henry’s mother collected several thousand signatures on a petition asking the governor to commute the death sentence. He examined the court documents and refused. Henry John Zorn was executed by hanging early on the morning of April 24, 1935. His mother had him buried in Butte. She married yet again in 1937 and lived out her life in Butte, passing away in 1956.
After Lester’s murder, Alice continued as a matron at the school until she remarried in October 1940. Her new husband served as teacher and principal in Laurel (about 15 miles southwest of Billings) for eight or nine years. After 1951, he became an agent and then manager in Montana for an insurance company. At times, Alice taught kindergarten classes. Along the way, they raised a daughter and a son. They retired to Arizona in 1971, and Alice died March 3, 1981 in Casa Grande. She was buried in the Custer County Cemetery near Lester Thomas Jones (same Section, Lot, and Block).
| References: Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica Ultimate Reference Suite, Encyclopædia Britannica, Chicago, Illinois (2012). | |
| Luke S. May, “Dark Killer – Montana’s Midnight Marauder,” True Detective Mysteries Magazine, New York, New York (February 1936). | |
| Luke S. May, Luke S. May Papers, Special Collections, University of Washington, Seattle, Washington (1969). | |
| Tom Stout (ed.), Montana: Its Story and Biography, The American Historical Society, Chicago and New York (1921). | |
| “[Zorn – Jones News],” The Missoulian, Missoula, Independent Record, Helena, Montana Standard, Butte, Billings Gazette, Great Fall Tribune, Montana; Seattle Times, Washington (April 1914 – March 1981). | |
