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Tuesday, June 11, 2019

Mass Murder: An Alarming Trend

Everett Brownlow Jr.

    In 2013, Charles Everett Brownlow Jr. lived with his mother Mary Catherine in Terrell, Texas, an east Texas town of 16,000 thirty miles from Dallas. At sixty-one, Ms. Brownlow worked at the Walmart store in nearby Mesquite. Her 36-year-old son, since his youth, had been in trouble with the law. The drug addict and burglar was sentenced to three years in prison in 2008 for possessing a firearm as a felon. He only served seven months of that sentence.  Brownlow, after being convicted of assaulting a family member in 2011 was back on the street in less than a year.

     At five o'clock on the afternoon of Monday, October 25, 2013, Charles Brownlow shot his mother to death execution style in her home. Thirty minutes later, just down the street, he murdered his aunt and set fire to her house. Firefighters found the victim's remains in the debris.

     That night, at ten-thirty, Brownlow shot a young couple. Police found James Wooden and Kelleye Lynnette Sluder dead in their Terrell home. Their three-year-old son was not harmed. (I don't know how Brownlow was connected to these victims.)

     Shortly after Brownlow's third and fourth murders, an off-duty police officer spotted his car parked outside a Terrell convenience store. As the officer pulled into the lot, Brownlow ran out of the store, jumped in his vehicle and sped off.

     Following a high-speed police chase, Brownlow lost control of his car and crashed. Unhurt, he ran into a heavily wooded area east of Dallas. Around midnight, police officers found the fugitive hiding in a creek bed.

     Back at the convenience store, investigators found employee Luis Leal-Carillo shot to death. The 22-year-old victim had worked at the store for three years. The fifth person Brownlow had killed that day left behind a one-year-old son.

     A local prosecutor charged Charles Brownlow with five counts of murder. The magistrate denied him bail.

 Bryan E. Sweatt

     In October 2013, 27-year-old Bryan E. Sweatt, a resident of rural Greenwood County, South Carolina had lost his girlfriend and custody of their seven-month-old daughter. Facing an upcoming burglary trial in which he faced up to twenty-five years in prison, he was about to lose his freedom.  Bryan E. Sweatt had also lost his mind.

     Sweatt's former girlfriend, Chandra Fields, lived in her parents' house on a rural road a few miles south of Greenwood, a town of 23,000 in the northwest part of the state. Recently, deputies with the Greenwood County Sheriff's Office had been summoned to the Fields' home on domestic violence calls involving Sweatt, Chandra, and her parents.

     Bryan Sweatt was not a stranger to local law enforcement. He had an extensive criminal history of burglary, assault, and forgery. He was also a violent self-pitying loser.

     On October 9, 2013, Sweatt expressed his rage, frustration, and hopelessness in an online message that read: "I'm about to lose it. I just want someone to talk to and be here with me so bad. I'm about to just get in the truck and ram it into the biggest pole I can find. Nobody gives a f…about me cuz of what that stupid b-h done [sic] to me. She played me for so long. I can't take it anymore. I've ask [sic] for someone just to be here for me to take my mind off doing something stupid to hurt myself. " [Punctuation added.]

     Sweatt, on October 20, 2013, posted the following angry, angst-ridden message to Chandra Fields: "U don't care and never wanted her [their daughter] to no [sic] me. But always remember its [sic] gonna come back on U when she grows up and thats [sic] what [sic] gonna make her hate U."

     Just before six o'clock on the evening of Tuesday, October 26, 2013, Bryan Sweatt, from Chandra Fields' house, called 911 and said, "I'm stressed out. I'm about to take my life."

     "Do you have a gun?" asked the dispatcher.

     "A 44," Sweat replied with the sounds of a crying woman in the background. Before the 911 dispatcher could ask another question, the phone line went dead. A few minutes after Sweatt's 911 call, a neighbor called 911 to report gunshots coming from the Fields' residence.

     Sheriff's deputies and a local SWAT team responded to the scene. After failing to get a response from anyone inside the house, officers entered the dwelling to find the bodies of four adults and two children. They had all been shot once in the head.

     After murdering Chandra Fields' parents and two of their grandsons, ages nine and eleven, Sweatt executed Chandra then killed himself. Their bodies were found in her bedroom. The parents and the children had been tied up. They also had their mouths duct-taped. Four other children who had been in the house escaped to a neighbor's house. They were not hurt.

     On October 25, 2013, in South Carolina, six people died in a mass murder-suicide. The next day, in Terrell, Texas, Phoenix, Arizona, and Brooklyn, New York, fifteen people were killed in three homicidal rampages. (For accounts of the Phoenix and Brooklyn cases, see: "Saturday Massacres: Two Men Kill Ten People on the Same Day," October 29, 2013.)

     Twenty-one deaths caused by four mass murderers within two days, while perhaps an anomaly, reflects an alarming trend in the nature of American homicide. Instead of being in prisons or mental institutions, violent losers are on the loose, free to take out their rage on family, friends, and society in general.
     

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