Shot in the Dark

Melvin Steakley, 37, religion editor of the Houston Chronicle, had spent a long night making up Saturday morning's church news section. At 11:30 p.m., with a jaunty farewell, he left the Chronicle offices; sometime later, he climbed in his Volkswagen parked near by and depressed the clutch pedal as he got ready to start the car. There was a muffled report. Steakley staggered out, cried for help and collapsed on the sidewalk. He died before help came.

A .32-cal. pistol had been taped to the steering column of the Volkswagen, aiming upwards. A thin wire had connected the trigger with the clutch pedal, and when Steakley's foot touched the pedal, the pistol fired; a bullet tore through his chest and lodged in his neck. "It looks like there's a real kook on the loose," a detective said after a witness reported that he had seen a "dark young man with very white teeth" in Steakley's car. Police and public speculated that some fanatic had taken offense at a recent Steakley story on the battle over integrating Houston's big First Baptist Church.

Later police had second thoughts They found a strand of hair on the tape holding the pistol to the steering column, and the hair turned out to be Steakley's. They also discovered small bits of red shavings on the tape, which seemed to correspond to shavings on a penknife in Steakley's pocket--a knife that Steakley was accustomed to using for sharpening a red grease pencil. Then, when police learned that Steakley was in debt on his $132.50-a-week salary, they began to wonder if his death might not have been suicide, arranged to look like murder so that his life insurance would be valid.

Trouble was, Steakley did not seem to be very despondent, least of all to his wife Elizabeth and their five children. I never saw him more happy than the night before he was killed," Elizabeth told police. "It must have been the work of a religious fanatic, or maybe it was a case of mistaken identity."

At week's end, police were still trying to figure out whether Steakley had died by his own hand or somebody else's. Meanwhile, other Houston reporters were taking no chances. They carefully inspected their own cars before driving them anywhere.

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