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58 Dead Family Walking Copyrighted Material

Sara was 'baby-sitting' on Friday night November 25th, for the C.I. at 409 Armentor Street, in the poorer section of New Iberia, in a little white 'shotgun' house barely twelve feet wide, about forty feet long with a small front porch, one front window, front door that led into the first room which was a small living room. She was sitting for the C.I's young son so she could go out for the evening.

As Sara and the boy watched TV, the C.I. was getting dressed in the next room and about to leave, when suddenly the front door flew open! It was Elmo. He had a silver hunting knife in his hand and a look of desperation on his face. Without saying a word he lunged toward Sara, his stepdaughter, knocking the boy over on the floor with his knifeless hand! The young boy began to cry and Sara began to scream as Elmo grabbed her by the hair and pulled the teenager's backside next to his body wrapping his arm around her throat with his left hand while still holding the knife in his right! As he put the silver blade to her throat, he spoke to her. "You been talkin'"? You been tellin' people about me? You not gonna put me back in the pen. I'm gonna take care of you tonight." But before he could act out his threat, the C.I., half dressed, ran into the front room holding a .38 Smith & Wesson revolver with both hands! Shaking with fright but determined, she screamed at him, "You not hurting anybody tonight! Get away from her or I'll blow your head off!"

Elmo, six feet one inches tall, standing more than a foot above five foot Sara, still holding the knife on her throat, was probably thinking what an easy target his head was for the C.I. who had the short barrel of the pistol pointed not 3 feet away–so close it blocked his view of her face. Taking his time to think things through, Elmo, thought that gunfire–no matter if it hit him or not–would certainly bring the neighbors and the law. By no means did he want to have to answer any questions to the law. He let Sara go. She grabbed the boy on the floor and ran behind the C.I. pulling the very frightened boy with her. All three were safe for the moment–behind the shaking gun. "I want you to get out of this house now or I'll call the law!" said the C.I., a family friend, remembering how dangerous she knew Elmo was since that time years ago when just out of prison, he drove over to his ex-wife's house and tore the place up, beating his ex to a pulp.

Elmo, temporarily defeated, looked down at the floor and was quiet for a moment. Without looking directly at Sara, the C.I. or the boy, and using only his left hand, Elmo unsnapped his blue western shirt with the ivory snap buttons, which was hanging out of his pants, and opened it to expose his hairy chest and midsection. Looking up at them, he stared with the most piercing eyes they had ever seen. And with the most haunting grin from his almost toothless mouth— (“In fact, he’s just got two teeth on top and most of his bottom ones are missing. His hair is curly. He combs it back and it falls with a curl on each side of his forehead.” said the C.I. describing Elmo during her interrogation.)—he emphatically said,“ Ya’ll trying to send me back to the pen?” He paused and kept starring down at them. No one spoke. He still held the knife in his right hand. Without breaking his stare, his right hand moved up towards his left shoulder and he whispered to them while squinting his eyes making sure they were certain to get his meaning “ And if the law comes afta’ me, this is what I’m gonna do to all of y’all.” The knifepoint entered the skin near his left clavicle and Elmo drug it downward, ever so slowly, blood began to ‘gush out’ the fresh wound, until he stopped a few inches above his waistline. Still he stared. Still he did not make a sound. Blood dripping everywhere! He manipulated the knife in his right hand to enter as near his right clavicle as he could and continued the completion of the bloody “x” that he was in the process of carving on his own body from right shoulder to waistline. He continued his horrifying deadly quiet stare and without another word, without closing his shirt or looking down, he was gone as quickly as he came — leaving three very frightened people and a trail of blood leading out of the front door.