The Murder of Glenn Felts | Badlands, Texas

For whatever reason, I chose not to work that night. I called in. I told Glenn I just wasn't up for working. He said, "It's slow enough, don't worry about it."

The next morning, I get a phone call from a friend of mine, and she said, "Have you heard?" The first words that came out were, "There was a drunk old man found dead in the parking lot." That was the first indication—a drunk old man.

The cleaning lady showed up and walked right past and figured it's just another drunk face down in the parking lot. Never even— you know. And then I guess, you know, he's still out in the parking lot. Better check.

"Oh my God, it's Glenn." Camera one, camera two—camera one, goofy crazy Glenn. Such a local icon, Glenn Fels.

Lea basically represented Tringa, period. The shock—people were pulling over on the sides of the road. Everybody was gathering in small groups, crying, holding on to each other, freaking out.

Sheriffs were flying by here headed towards that direction. Of course, in a small community like this, we were all going, "Whoa, what's going on? What's happening?"

Anyways, that's how the story all began. That morning, when I first got there, it was just hard to tell kind of what happened. You know, I thought, was somebody robbing? Did somebody shoot?

Everybody loved Glenn— all of Tringa. Love Glenn very much, including myself. People don't want to talk about the death of Glenn, especially down here.

I miss Glenn. We all do. I mean, there's a huge hole in all of our hearts. You know, he was an institution—he was an asset to the community.

I knew Glenn. I mean, we all know each other. The place is right down the street—it's less than a mile from here. I don't know anybody that disliked him. I really don't.