The final 24 hours in the life of a deputy U.S. marshal
‘Going after the bad guys gave him a rush’
JACKSON, Miss. – In the wee hours of March 10, 2015, Deputy U.S. Marshal Josie Wells and his pregnant wife, Channing, talked on the phone like giddy teenagers.
He was on assignment in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, helping the Middle Louisiana Fugitive Task Force capture some of the state’s most wanted criminals. She was at home in Raymond, Mississippi.
“I can’t wait to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl,” he said. “I’ll bet it’s a boy.”
“You don’t know that,” she laughed. “Wait and see. And we’re going to call him ‘Jojo,’ ” he said.
They talked a while longer. Josie told her, “You know I love you,
and I’m so proud of you. We’ve come such a long way.”
Then he repeated it: “I’m so proud of you.”
She never tired of hearing it, even though he told her every day.
“I’m proud of you, too,” she said.
Channing glanced at the clock.
“Now listen, I’m not gonna talk to you all night,” she said. “You guys have a big day ahead, and I don’t want you tired.”
Channing Wells had no way of knowing that would be the last time she would ever speak to the love of her life.
Opposites attract
They were different. Josie was fun-loving, charming, slightly mischievous and a country boy from a tiny community near the Gulf Coast town of Hurley, Mississippi. The fourth of eight children, he rode horses, wore cowboy boots and listened to country music.
She did things on time and with a plan. After graduating in
2006 from high school in Jackson, Mississippi, she earned degrees from Tougaloo College and Illinois College of Optometry in Chicago – each in four years.
Somehow, they clicked. “They were true lovebirds,” said Sanica Matthews, a New Orleans resident who met Channing in optometry school and quickly became one of her closest friends.
Josie and Channing began dating in 2007. She grew to enjoy country music and learned to ride a horse. She taught him that even though Mississippi was home, there was plenty of world to see. He took his first flight, first train and first cruise with Channing.
“We didn’t rush things,” she said. “We really got to know each other as friends first – best friends.”
She quickly understood that law enforcement was ingrained in him. His dad retired from the Jackson County Sheriff ’s Department, and the third son, Jason, works there now. Two other brothers also are in law enforcement.
Josie wanted the best for his wife.
He sold his motorcycle to buy her an engagement ring. When he proposed April 23,
2011, he emphasized his sincerity.
“He said, ‘Little girl, this ain’t no promise ring,’ ” Channing said.
They married a year later. After Channing graduated from optometry school in 2014, Josie gave her a deadline: “I want you to own your own clinic in five years. You’ve got the leadership skills to do that.”
‘I could tell he was excited’
Josie left for Louisiana on a Sunday.
“He called and said he had met some of the officials (with the task force) and really liked them,” Channing said. “I could tell he was excited. Going after the bad guys gave him a rush.
“And I really thought he would be OK. When he was in St. Louis, he worked in some really rough areas. So when he was in Louisiana, I was like ‘Call me when you’re done today.’ ”
The task force’s target that day was convicted felon Jamie Croom, 31, wanted in connec- tion with a double homicide of a brother and sister outside a nightclub three weeks earlier in New Roads, Louisiana. The shootings may have been part of a feud between families and drug-related.
Croom informed relatives that he would not be taken alive.
Josie’s team learned Croom had checked into a small motel in the northern part of Baton Rouge.
Channing was at her job in Jackson, getting ready to go to lunch when a customer came in.
It was Deputy U.S. Marshal Singleton Moore.
When Moore saw Channing, he said, “Mrs. Wells, I need you to come with me. There has been an incident, and we need to get you to Baton Rouge.”
“Stop it!” Channing told him. “Why are you calling me Mrs. Wells? You always call me Chan. What’s going on?” He repeated himself. The receptionist gently took her hand and said, “Whatever you are about to experience, God will see you through it.”
Channing grabbed her keys and purse and walked with Moore to his car, asking nonstop, “What is going on? Can you please just tell me?”
Knowing Channing was pregnant, Moore asked whether she would like to stop at a hospital.
“No, I want you to take me to my husband,” she demanded. “What has happened?”
It was raining as Moore drove Channing and Moore’s law partner, Miranda Holloway, down Interstate 55. Sitting with Holloway in the backseat, Channing grew more emotional by the minute. After driving for about 20 minutes, Moore pulled over, got out and opened the back door to face Channing.
“Chan,” Moore said, “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but Josie died at 12:01.”
She screamed.
“Can I take you to the hospital?” Moore asked.
“No,” Channing said. “Take me to my husband.”
‘Pray with me’
Upon arrival in Baton Rouge, Channing learned what happened. Josie was the third marshal to rush into Croom’s room at the Elm Grove Motel. Croom began firing. A bullet struck Josie in the neck – just below his helmet, just above his bulletresistant vest.
Croom was shot and died the next day.
Channing was told that Josie lost a lot of blood and spoke his final words to his fellow marshals on the way to the hospital: “Pray with me.”
She asked to view the body. “I had to see him for myself,” she said. “He looked so at peace. He wasn’t frowning. He just looked like he was asleep, and I was no longer scared. I told the people there, ‘I put that wedding ring on his finger, and I’d like to be the one to take it off.’ They let me do that, and it was one of the greatest honors I’ve ever had. He had that ring on for 31⁄ years. It had blood on 2 it. I didn’t wash it for nearly a year.”
Matthews walked in. “She was sitting at a table, crying and talking but kinda in this daze of disbelief,” Matthews said. “I gave her a hug – even though she’s not a hugger. I told her, ‘God will provide and I’m so sorry.’
“She said, ‘I can’t believe this.’ She started talking about all the things they were supposed to do – going on a cruise the following month. They were getting ready to build a house. She said, ‘I’m having a baby and he’s supposed to be here.’ ”
Channing looked at Matthews and said, “Josie and I decided we want you to be our child’s godmother.”
‘You lose your best friend’
Forty-two months have passed.
Asked how she was doing, Channing didn’t answer right away.
Finally, she said, “I don’t downplay any death. Each one is hard. But when you lose a spouse, when you lose your soul mate, you lose your security that you have built with that person. You lose the ability to have any more children together. You lose your best friend. Every ounce of your identity changes.
“But I never lost my faith, never blamed God. Instead, I got closer to him. I’m human. Some days I cry and say, ‘Why?’ I didn’t want to be a single mom. That’s why I got married first. There are still days I ques- tion my ability to be a good parent, but every day, my baby still smiles in my face, so I must be doing something right.”
Channing kept her promise to Josie. On Aug. 1, she became owner of a clinic, Wells Vision, inside a Walmart in Hazlehurst, Mississippi. “Ahead of the five-year deadline he gave me,” Channing said with a soft smile.
And that baby she refers to? It was a boy just like Josie said. Jojo turned 3 on Aug. 27.
“I look at Jojo, and I can see both of them in him – but the older he gets, the more I see Josie,” Matthews said.
On a visit to Channing’s home in Raymond, Matthews was alone with Jojo in a room filled with pictures of Josie. She pointed to one of Channing and Josie taken shortly after they were married.
“Who is that?” Matthews asked her godson.
Jojo looked at the photo, then turned his eyes toward Matthews.
“Mom and Dad,” he said.