The Day Blood Stained Union Station: Remembering the Kansas City Massacre
June 17, 1933. The Great Depression was tightening its grip on America, but another kind of darkness also loomed: the brazen reign of bank robbers and gangsters. In Kansas City, Missouri, this darkness erupted into a horrifying spectacle, leaving an indelible stain on the city’s history and irrevocably shaping the future of American law enforcement. What began as a routine prisoner transfer at the majestic Union Station spiraled into a bloody ambush known as the Kansas City Massacre, claiming the lives of four law enforcement officers and an innocent bystander, and igniting a nationwide "war on crime" that would define an era.
The early 1930s were a volatile time. Prohibition had fostered a generation of ruthless criminals, and the economic despair of the Depression often pushed desperate individuals into lives of crime. Bank robberies became alarmingly common, and figures like John Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, "Machine Gun" Kelly, and "Pretty Boy" Floyd dominated newspaper headlines, often romanticized by a public weary of authority. Law enforcement, particularly at the federal level, was still finding its footing, often outgunned and outmaneuvered by highly organized and heavily armed gangs who moved swiftly across state lines.
It was into this fraught environment that Frank "Jelly" Nash entered the scene. A career criminal and notorious bank robber, Nash had been on the run for years, a master of disguise and evasion. He was considered a "Public Enemy Number One" by the nascent Bureau of Investigation (the precursor to the FBI). After a daring escape from Leavenworth Penitentiary in 1930, Nash had been recaptured in Hot Springs, Arkansas, on June 16, 1933. His return to Leavenworth was deemed a high-priority federal matter.
The plan for Nash’s transfer was meticulously laid out, or so it seemed. A team of law enforcement officers was assembled to escort him from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Leavenworth. This team included FBI Special Agents Raymond J. Caffrey and Reed E. Vetterli, along with Otto Reed, Chief of Police of McAlester, Oklahoma, and two Kansas City Police Department detectives, William Grooms and Frank Hermanson. Chief Reed had been instrumental in Nash’s capture and was personally accompanying him.
The journey by train to Kansas City was uneventful. However, unbeknownst to the escort team, intelligence of Nash’s transfer had leaked. Verne Miller, a notorious and exceptionally violent bank robber and associate of Nash, had caught wind of the plan. Miller, along with Adam Richetti and possibly other confederates (the involvement of "Pretty Boy" Floyd would become a hotly debated point), had meticulously planned an ambush to free Nash. Their objective was simple: spring their comrade, no matter the cost.
As the train carrying Nash and his escort pulled into Kansas City’s Union Station at approximately 7:15 AM on that fateful Saturday, a sense of routine prevailed. The officers, with Nash in tow, disembarked and headed towards a waiting federal car parked on the east side of the station, a 1933 Chevrolet sedan. It was a bright, clear morning, the station already bustling with early travelers.
What happened next unfolded in a matter of seconds, a chaotic blur of gunfire and terror. As the lawmen and Nash approached the car, another vehicle, a black Chevrolet sedan carrying the ambush team, screeched to a halt nearby. Before anyone could react, the doors of the ambush car flew open, and a torrent of machine-gun fire erupted.
The ambushers, later identified as Miller and Richetti, wielded automatic weapons, spraying bullets indiscriminately. The target was clear: the officers guarding Nash. The element of surprise was complete.
Special Agent Vetterli, who was driving the federal car, was the first to realize the horror unfolding. He ducked, shouting "Stick ’em up!" but it was too late. Chief Otto Reed, standing by the car door, was hit almost immediately, collapsing. Detective William Grooms was struck as he reached for his service weapon, falling to the ground. Detective Frank Hermanson, bravely attempting to draw his own weapon, was also cut down by the relentless hail of bullets. Even Special Agent Caffrey, who had been sitting in the back seat with Nash, was hit and killed.
In the ensuing chaos, Nash himself was not spared. It is believed he was caught in the crossfire, possibly by a bullet intended for an officer, or perhaps by a stray round from his would-be rescuers. He died instantly, still handcuffed, slumped in the backseat of the federal car. Tragically, an innocent bystander, Willie J. Coffey, who was simply waiting for his wife in the station parking lot, was also killed by a stray bullet as he tried to flee the scene.
The ambushers then quickly sped away, leaving behind a scene of unimaginable carnage and confusion. Five bodies lay dead or dying in the parking lot of Union Station, surrounded by shell casings and the stunned silence that follows such sudden violence. The majestic architecture of the station, a symbol of progress and connection, was now a backdrop for an act of brutal, senseless murder.
The immediate aftermath was one of shock and outrage. News of the massacre spread like wildfire across the nation. J. Edgar Hoover, then director of the Bureau of Investigation, was personally incensed. The brazenness of the attack, the murder of federal and local law enforcement officers on American soil, was an affront to justice and order. The Kansas City Massacre became a rallying cry, a pivotal moment that galvanized public and political will for a nationwide crackdown on organized crime.
The hunt for the perpetrators began immediately and intensely. Verne Miller, the mastermind, was identified quickly. A ruthless killer, he remained at large for a few months but was eventually found dead in a ditch outside Detroit in November 1933, likely murdered by fellow gangsters.
Adam Richetti, another key participant, was apprehended in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in August 1933, along with "Pretty Boy" Floyd. Richetti quickly confessed, implicating Floyd in the massacre. However, Floyd vehemently denied his involvement, and later evidence, including ballistics and eyewitness accounts, largely exonerated him from direct participation in the shooting itself, though he was undoubtedly part of the criminal underworld that spawned such violence. Despite the lingering doubts about his direct role, the Bureau of Investigation relentlessly pursued Floyd, who was ultimately killed in a shootout with federal agents in Ohio in October 1934. Richetti, after a series of trials and appeals, was eventually convicted and executed in Missouri’s gas chamber in 1938.
The Kansas City Massacre was more than just a tragic event; it was a profound turning point in American law enforcement history. Before the massacre, federal agents generally lacked the authority to make arrests or carry firearms unless they had a specific warrant or were directly protecting federal property. This limited their effectiveness against highly mobile and armed criminals.
The massacre shocked Congress into action. In 1934, in direct response to the Union Station bloodbath and other high-profile gangster incidents, a series of legislative acts were passed that dramatically expanded the powers of federal agents. These included the National Firearms Act, the Federal Kidnapping Act (often called the "Lindbergh Law"), and most significantly, a law granting Bureau of Investigation agents the authority to make arrests and carry firearms. This was a monumental shift, transforming the Bureau from a largely investigative body into a fully empowered federal police force.
J. Edgar Hoover masterfully leveraged the public outcry and the newly granted powers to build the modern FBI, creating a highly trained, well-armed, and fiercely independent agency dedicated to combating organized crime. The era of the "G-Man" (Government Man) was born, symbolizing a new, resolute stance against the nation’s most dangerous criminals.
Today, the Kansas City Massacre remains a somber and significant chapter in American history. Union Station itself bears silent witness to the events of that day. For decades, some of the bullet holes from the ambush were reportedly visible in the stone façade, a grim reminder of the violence. While the physical scars may have faded or been repaired, the memory of the five lives lost – Special Agent Raymond J. Caffrey, Chief Otto Reed, Detective William Grooms, Detective Frank Hermanson, and civilian Willie J. Coffey – endures.
Each year, on June 17th, law enforcement officials and members of the community gather at Union Station to remember the victims and honor their sacrifice. The Kansas City Massacre serves as a powerful reminder of the ultimate price paid in the pursuit of justice and the pivotal role that such tragic events can play in shaping the very fabric of a nation’s institutions. It was a day when the roar of machine guns echoed through a grand railway station, forever altering the course of American law enforcement and forging a legacy of federal power that continues to protect and serve to this day.
