Jim Walden
Nowhere is the importance of disappearance as a weapon of paradigm destruction more apparent than through deaths caused by law enforcement. For nearly two months, the rural roads of Denton County were either washed out or frozen. When the cold snap finally broke in early February 1921, sunshine poured like rain on parched earth and Jim Walden, a rural farm laborer in the northeast corner of the county, misplaced his coat in excitement. The warm air brought new life to the winter-worn fields and three weeks passed before the winds changed. As the cold air returned to North Texas, Walden left the fields in search of his missing coat. He arrived at his brother-in-law’s house (where he had been staying for several months), but found the doors locked. Jim circled the structure in search of a window unlatched where he could climb up the sides of the house and into the residence to retrieve his winter coat. After circling twice, he found just that -- a window ajar -- and Walden maneuvered himself into the home. Unable to find his own coat and accustomed to the free exchange of clothing between brothers, he borrowed a coat and headed back to the fields to work. That evening, Jim returned home -- with the coat -- to his brother-in-law’s house. To his surprise, the winter coat had already been reported stolen by his brother-in-law, along with a five-dollar bill nestled in its pocket. That night, Jim Walden was arrested for felony burglary and placed in the Denton County jail.[1]
Bail was set but, for Jim Walden, a man of limited means, it was unaffordable. The result was three weeks spent -- three weeks with his life on hold -- waiting for his trial in jail. In mid-March, Judge C. R. Pearman finally heard The State of Texas v. Jim Walden. At the trial, Walden was charismatic and funny. Unable to afford outside counsel, Jim represented himself and explained the confusion surrounding the missing coat with ease. Walden’s legal presentation caused “considerable merriment” in the District Court, so much so that the Denton Record-Chronicle reported that “he presented his case in such a way that the jury found him not guilty of the charge.” After three weeks spent behind bars for borrowing his brother’s coat, Jim Walden was free to go.[2]
Five years passed before Deputy Sheriffs A. R. Gooch and Brown opened fire on Jim Walden. According to law enforcement, Tom Leftridge was found in possession of a medical bag filled with medicine and several chickens on the morning of Monday, April 19, 1926. Leftridge confessed that both he and Walden went on a “chicken raid” the night before but after the raid, as the pair drove south toward Denton, their car overturned at Clear Creek. Leftridge explained that Jim Walden took some of the stolen chickens and hitch hiked to Denton to find someone to rescue the overturned vehicle. But while Walden was away, Leftridge was spotted by Deputy Sheriff Brown on the side of the road and placed under arrest where he confessed to the crime.[3]
After they arrested Leftridge, Deputy Sheriffs Gooch and Brown headed south to the Jackson house where Walden was rumored to be seeking assistance for the overturned vehicle. As the officers approached in their car, Jim Walden sprinted out the back door to hide himself behind the house. The deputies circled behind the house and at first sight of the two armed officers Jim began to run. Deputy Sheriff Gooch yelled for Walden to stop and, when he did not, “both officers opened fire.” Brown fired three bullets and Gooch fired six, the last of which reached the base of Walden’s skull, 150 yards away, and “came out in the center of [his] forehead.” Neither Gooch nor Brown checked to see if Jim Walden was still alive as they collected his body. They assumed, based on his injuries, that he was dead. He was not.[4]
The officers drove Jim Walden to “a negro undertaker” who, upon receipt of Walden, called Sheriff Fry to tell him the suspect was still alive. While the Denton Record-Chronicle published that Walden died just before 12:00pm, the coroner -- his only attending medical professional -- believed that he lived an hour and a half longer. Jim Walden was shot at 11:00am on Monday, April 19, 1926 and died two-and-a-half hours later. His cause of death was “From Shot: Bullet carried through skull, base of brain. Resisting arrest.”[5]
The following morning, Sheriff William S. Fry indicated the officer who killed Walden, Deputy Sheriff Gooch, would not face charges. At the time of his death, Walden was forty-one years old, divorced after being widowed, and worked as a day laborer. He lived on Maddox Street with the family of his first wife. His body was laid to rest in Pilot Point, likely at St. John’s Cemetery.[6]
Jim Walden posed no threat to the life of either deputy. He posed no threat to the community at large. The killing of Jim Walden was performed by two law enforcement officials who valued stopping a suspected thief of food and medicine over a man’s life. A deeper dive into this core truth makes visible the racialized values of the men sworn to serve and protect Denton County in the 1920s. The crimes committed by Black men were more significant to the Denton County Sheriff’s Department than the men themselves and the fear of criminality stoked by the Ku Klux Klan was either influential in or informs the present of a conscious effort to criminalize Black male bodies as a weapon of erasure.
It is also significant that Walden had successfully defended himself from an overreaching prosecution six years prior. The story of Jim Walden and the missing coat humanizes Walden. Disappearance continues to act against an individual long after they are gone with a goal of total erasure from the county, community, and collective memory. While the details may seem more like minutia at first glance, filling in Walden’s life with as much detail as possible is a rebellious act aimed to deconstruct disappearance and reconstruct identity.
The story of Jim Walden underscores the necessity of a word that is inclusive of law enforcement violence as his death fits all of the criteria for lynching. When local law enforcement is, or acts in the interest of, a group like the Ku Klux Klan, their lethal actions must be chronicled as a part of racial violence discourse. Jim Walden was killed as a suspect, not a criminal. Walden had yet to be interviewed, the chickens had yet to be secured, and the voracity of the claims of Leftridge – the only witness – had yet to be ascertained. As such, Jim Walden was shot by law enforcement as an innocent man whose only visible crime was running from the police – a crime that does not carry the death penalty. Deputies Gooch and Brown acted extrajudicially and were neither investigated nor charged with the murder of Jim Walden. They acted as police, judge, jury, and executioner in a case where the facts were still undetermined. Jim Walden was never arrested for his alleged crime but was indicted as a criminal by the Denton Record-Chronicle and murdered by two deputies protected by the Denton County Sheriff.
Walden’s death also fits portions of the pattern of racial violence specific to Denton County. While his identity is known and a crime appears to have occurred, after being exonerated in a previous trial, it seems likely that law enforcement had doubts as to whether Walden would be convicted of this offense. Because of the close relationship between the Denton County Justice System and the Ku Klux Klan, it is unnecessary to identify whether the Klan had an increase in activity which surrounded the event; the Sheriff’s Department was directly involved. Last, Walden fits the criteria of being last seen (almost) in the custody of law enforcement and, because he died of his wounds no further record of his life is left.
The history of Jim Walden, again, points to the toxic power of lynching discourse. Murders committed by law enforcement have been – and continue to be – excluded from lynching and hate crime statistics. It is as though the alleged criminality justifies the summary execution of Black men and women. If true, we have learned no lessons from the 4500+ summary executions termed as lynchings, each with a similar presumption of guilt.
This justification of murder based on the presumption of guilt of any crime whatsoever is highlighted through the criminalization of death certificates. Jim Walden’s official cause of death reads “From Shot: Bullet carried through skull, base of brain. Resisting Arrest.” The death certificate of Jim Walden reads as though he is to blame for his own death. Even if we accept the premise that Walden’s flee from police was a contributing factor in his death (although, I’m not sure we should) death certificates of individuals who die of heart disease have nothing written in their cause of death about their lifestyles; accidental deaths do not have lists of the unsafe activities which contributed to their demise; deaths by illness are not listed alongside preventative measures not taken by the victim. Furthermore, death certificates of individuals who died by gunshot in the same county and during the same time period, state nothing about the factors which led to the deceased being fired upon – as long as it wasn’t done by law enforcement. Death certificates were used as documentation to support the disappearance of Black victims of law enforcement. The entire system perpetuated the same narrative. Words both indicate and carry power.[7]
[1] “One Man Indicted in Six Burglary Cases by Grand Jury,” Denton Record-Chronicle, February 26, 1921, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); “Thirty-Seven of Criminal Cases Set for Trial,” Denton Record-Chronicle, March 8, 1921, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); “To Devote Next Week to Organizing County [Club] Work,” Denton Record-Chronicle, February 26, 1921, accessed November 2, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); “W. F. Moye Gets Two Years Suspended Sentence Tuesday,” Denton Record-Chronicle, March 15, 1921, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT). The five-dollar bill reporting was not frivolous. Accounting for inflation, but not racial, circumstantial, and time-specific poverty, five dollars in 1921 had the same spending power as nearly ninety dollars in 2024. “Inflation Calculator,” WestEgg, accessed October 1, 2025, https://westegg.com/inflation/infl.cgi.
[2] “One Man Indicted in Six Burglary Cases by Grand Jury,” Denton Record-Chronicle, February 26, 1921, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); “Thirty-Seven of Criminal Cases Set for Trial,” Denton Record-Chronicle, March 8, 1921, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); “W. F. Moye Gets Two Years Suspended Sentence Tuesday,” Denton Record-Chronicle, March 15, 1921, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT).
[3] “Negro is Shot and Killed by Officers,” Denton Record-Chronicle, April 19, 1926, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); “Two Cases are Filed Against Companion of Negro Shot Here,” Denton Record-Chronicle, April 20, 1926, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT).
[4] “Negro is Shot and Killed by Officers,” Denton Record-Chronicle, April 19, 1926, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT).
[5] “Negro is Shot and Killed by Officers,” Denton Record-Chronicle, April 19, 1926, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); Texas, Death Certificates, Texas Department of State Health Services, Austin (TX). Ancestry.
[6] “Negro is Shot and Killed by Officers,” Denton Record-Chronicle, April 19, 1926, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT); Texas, Death Certificates, Texas Department of State Health Services, Austin (TX). Ancestry; “Two Cases are Filed Against Companion of Negro Shot Here,” Denton Record-Chronicle, April 20, 1926, accessed October 24, 2019. Newspaper Archive (UNT). For more on St. John’s Cemetery see Uncovering St. John’s, University of North Texas, accessed November 1, 2019, http://omeka.library.unt.edu/s/stjohns/page/welcome.
[7] State of Texas, Death Certificates, Texas Department of State Health Services, Austin (TX). Ancestry.