Editor's note: The opinions expressed in this article are representative of the victims' family, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of the author or Odyssey. Certain aspects of the case are still currently under review.
Few bonds are as strong as the one shared by a daughter and her father. For many little girls struggling to find their way in the world, the word of their father is Gospel. It was no different for Phyllis Cook, who idolized her father Gulfport Deputy Dan Anderson--but the stories her father told her would end up altering the course of her entire life--as well as his own.
In 2002, Phyllis Cook met her father for breakfast at a Waffle House in Gulfport, Mississippi. As they enjoyed their meal together, Phyllis noticed a sudden change in her father's demeanor. Dan Anderson began to stare at the man sitting behind her, and she remembers Anderson muttering, his face reddening:
"That son of a bitch."
When Phyllis turned to see who her father was talking about, he reprimanded her sharply, ordering her not to look. A few minutes later, Phyllis heard movement in the booth behind her. A man stood up and left the restaurant. Anderson and his daughter watched this man drive away in a beat-up old van. After a moment, Phyllis says her father told her who the man was.
"That's the old boy who killed Ronnie."
Phyllis could hardly believe what she just heard. This was the first time in thirty-five years that Deputy Anderson had ever acknowledged his son's death had been anything other than suicide. When Phyllis tried to find out more, Anderson waved his hand dismissively. She knew that the subject wouldn't be elaborated upon further.
So, brimming with curiosity, Phyllis decided to hang back after her father left the restaurant. She found the waitress, a woman named Trudy Franklin, and inquired about the man. Phyllis says Trudy told her that the man was a regular at the Waffle House, and there was bad blood between him and Dan Anderson. Trudy allegedly identified the man as none other than Jeffrey Bass.
Four months later, Dan Anderson was dead. The Harrison County Sheriff's Department ruled his death a suicide. They alleged that Anderson had walked into his front yard--which looked out onto a busy main street--a few minutes before rush hour. He put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Despite the busy time of day, the police said they were unable to find any witnesses. Phyllis was disturbed by this fact, along with the fact that gunshot residue and blood-splatter was found covering both of her father's hands--uncommon in suicide cases. She was convinced that there was more to her father's death than the story told to her by law enforcement.
When Phyllis arrived at the funeral home to make arrangements, she was met by Coroner Gary Hargrove. Phyllis remembers Hargrove coldly refusing her request to see her father, which she found odd as well as rude. Later on, when she called Hargrove to express her concerns about her father's death, he told her that Deputy Anderson had a considerable gambling debt and was facing jail time for writing bad checks. Phyllis was shocked. This was the first time she had heard these allegations. Hargrove told her that Anderson had already pawned everything he owned, and that his death was most assuredly a suicide. Phyllis hung up feeling confused and upset.
Her next step was to call the courthouse to speak with the judge her father had worked for. Phyllis repeated what Hargrove had told her, and the judge seemed outraged. Phyllis says the judge assured her that the allegations were incorrect, and that he would handle Gary Hargrove himself.
But Coroner Hargrove had been correct about one thing--Deputy Anderson's house was nearly empty. Phyllis was startled to discover that every trace of finery had disappeared--crystal, fine china, heirlooms, and antiques. Her father's attorney, Roy Strickland, had already sold Anderson's prized black Cadillac. Phyllis was furious. She also learned that all of her father's life insurance policies had been cashed out shortly before his death--and the signature on the papers was not her father's. In her opinion, the signature more closely resembled Roy Strickland's.
"My Daddy and I were very close, as you can imagine," Phyllis explained to me. "I know my Daddy's handwriting from the way he dots his 'i's to the way he makes his 'a's. And that signature was not his."
Phyllis started to become deeply suspicious of Roy Strickland. In fact, in the past, she recalled her father warning her not to trust the man. He was, in Anderson's words, a good attorney but a "mean SOB." At times, it seemed to Phyllis that her elderly father was afraid of Strickland. She feared the attorney may have had something to do with Anderson's death. Stronger still was her suspicion that her father's death was connected to Ronnie's in some way.
Phyllis held on to these suspicions for years. In 2013, she made the decision to contact the Harrison County Cold Case Unit.
"I was transferred to Investigator Adam Cooper," she recounted to me. "I began telling him the reason for my call, and my thoughts about Ronnie's death."
After she told him all she knew, Phyllis says Cooper put her on hold. When he returned to the call, his words were seared into her mind forever:
"Ma'am, I'd say I'm ninety-nine percent sure your brother was killed by a member of the Dixie Mafia."
Phyllis was instantly overwhelmed. Someone was finally validating the theory she'd had for years. Cooper asked if she would be able to identify Jeffrey Bass out of a lineup--which she did, successfully. According to Phyllis, Cooper also felt Bass could be a potential suspect. She was optimistic that this would finally prove to be the turning point in the Anderson case.
That was until, like so many before him, Adam Cooper started ignoring Phyllis' phone calls.
"He had been so cordial and so willing to help me," Phyllis told me. "And now he refused to take my calls. I truly believe that man was reprimanded for looking into my brother's case."
Once again, Phyllis was at a loss. She knew in her heart that the Mafia was responsible for taking her beloved brother and father from her. She eventually wrote a letter and poured her heart out to Kirksey Nix himself, hoping he could tell her something about the man who killed her brother. But it would prove to be another dead-end. While cordial in tone throughout his reply, Kirksey wrote about the Andersons' deaths:
"Even if I knew anything, I would not tell anyone. That is the code that I live by."
Phyllis believes that Kirksey's silence on the subject speaks volumes.
"If he didn't know anything, why not just say so?" She told me over the phone. "Why even add that part at all?"
Phyllis thinks her little brother was killed over knowledge he may have had about the Dixie Mafia and their criminal activities. After running around with alleged member Jeffrey Bass, she feels Ronnie had come to know too much. The night Ronnie died, he was packing to leave Gulfport and come stay with her.
"You know what they say about certain organizations," Phyllis quipped. "Some you only leave in a pine box."
She feels that after Ronnie's death, her father aided in the cover-up to protect the Mafia. It was something he'd done in the past, and would continue to do. But after decades of living with guilt and grief, Phyllis sensed a change in her father. That fateful Waffle House breakfast put a series of sinister events into motion. Deputy Anderson put himself in danger when he acknowledged Jeffrey Bass and what he had done. Anderson was ready to openly implicate Bass, and perhaps John Ransom and Pete Halat as well. John Ransom was released from prison just a few months after Anderson's supposed suicide--something his daughter feels is significant.
"I truly believe Jeff Bass murdered my brother in 1967," Phyllis said. "And I truly believe my dad was murdered to keep him quiet about Bass, Pete Halat, and John Ransom. They shot him in his driveway and had it covered up."
But it may be a long time before Phyllis is able to convince law enforcement to take her case. In spite of all the obstacles she's experienced so far, she is determined not to give up. She has meticulously saved and organized every scrap of potentially important information since 1967. She continues to call the Sheriff's Department and the FBI, even though too often her calls go unanswered. She actively runs a Facebook page, "Justice for Ronnie and Daddy," in an attempt to publicize the case.
"I would walk through the streets of Hell and back to find out what happened to Ronnie and Daddy," she says, "and I'll do it."
After spending a considerable amount of time speaking with Miss Cook, I believe her. She has a sharp focus and a staunch determination that's larger than life--if anyone is capable of standing up to the Dixie Mafia, she is. Phyllis knows the truth is out there, and she'll stop at nothing until she finds it.
If you have any comments or questions, or if you have any information about the Anderson case, please contact me at theblackswanbooks@outlook.com.
