She was a beautiful young girl barely out of school where she was an honor roll student who excelled in creative writing and the literary arts. She was well known in her town, she even gave introductory speeches for local politicians.

He was a handsom boy from a poor farming family with eight brothers and sisters. He had an engaging smile and wonderful sense of humor that she fell in love with the moment they met. 

They drove a sandy-colored Ford V-8 Sedan with custom seat covers. It was fast, sleek and accelerated like a rocket. They loved that car almost as much as they loved each other. They should have had their whole lives ahead of them.

Solemnity weighted the air. Both of them felt it and neither avoided what was on their minds. When her mother asked the couple to stop talking about death, she hugged her mom and replied, "Now Mama, don’t get upset...It’s coming. You know it. I know it...and Mama, when we’re gone, don’t ever say anything ugly about my man."

She then handed her mom a poem she had written. This poem was about the story of her life and the man she chose to love until her inevitable demise. It was a remarkable piece of self-reflection from a woman who understood herself and her world. It would later provide a realization to all those who thought they knew her: she was a very insightful and intelligent person.

Henry Methvin, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as comfortable with death. Ever since a motorcycle trooper was murdered, he was very paranoid and skittish. He knew he had gotten into something way over his head and wished he could wake up from his terrible nightmare. He had managed to read the girl's poem which spoke so eloquently of love and death but he could not relate to how calm she dealt with the subject matter. Henry Methvin was not in love with anyone nor was anyone in love with him. He knew he was not ready to pay for “the wages of sin” with his life.

The smitten couple was staying at Henry’s cabin. During the day they tended to make early visits to the nearby town of Sailes without him. The road to Sailes was narrow and uneventful. It was lined with dense woodland trees and long, thick moss that hung from the branches and almost tickled the grass below.

Henry owned a beat-up Model A truck that he used to haul pulp lumber to Sailes. During one particular trip, his truck broke down near a small ditch that ran along the north side of the road. As he waited for help, Henry was biting his fingernails nervously. He knew the couple had gone into town that morning and he was hoping they would soon come back down this road to help him.

Henry’s heart raced when he saw the familiar beige Ford speeding down Sailes Road. As it came closer, it slowed down and its driver’s eyes locked onto the broken down truck. The driver's body movement bespoke curiosity and it was obvious he had recognized his friend Henry in need. Beside him in the passenger seat was his radiant 25-year old girlfriend wearing her favorite red dress.

The young man smiled as he rolled off the road and was about to poke fun at Henry’s crappy truck like he always did, but was suddenly interrupted by a husky voice that yelled from the moss on the other side of the road, "SHOOT!”

What happened next was described by one of the men hidden in the moss:

"...The woman screamed, and I fired and everyone fired...My BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle) spit out twenty shots in an instant, a drumbeat of shells knifed through the steel body of the car and glass was shattering. For a fleeting instant, the car seemed to melt and hang in a kind of eerie and animated suspension, trying to move forward, spitting gravel at the wheels, but unable to break through the shield of withering gunfire...My ears were ringing, there was a spinning and reeling in my head from the cannonade of bullets and the clank of steel-jacketed metal tearing steel.... And when the firing subsided... The driver was slumped forward, the back of his head was a mat of blood...I scrambled over the hood of the car and threw open the passenger side door. The impression will linger with me forever from this instant -- I saw her falling out of the opened door, a beautiful and petite young girl...and I smelled her light perfume against the burned-cordite smell of gunpowder..."

Alas, it is a sad ending to the story. Unfortunately, the dichotomy of forces in their lives had to be balanced - the strength of their love could only be matched by the brutality of their demise. But you have to understand, there could be no other way; if not set up by their friend then surely by some other violent means.

The road gets dimmer and dimmer
Sometimes you can hardly see
But it’s fight man to man, and do all you can
For they know they can never be free.

Don’t think they’re tough or desperate
They know the law always wins
They’ve been shot at before, and they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.

Someday they’ll go down together
And they’ll bury them side by side
To few it’ll be grief, to the law a relief
But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.

Excerpted from the poem "The Story of Bonnie and Clyde"
written by Bonnie Parker.