…the dichotomy of the case is its fascination and strength. The surprise and rejoicing at the rescue of people presumed dead, followed by the shock and tragedy of Williams’ murder and the publicity and drama of the trial, ensured its place in legal history. Controversy over the verdict still rages, even after four decades. 

In this book, I have attempted to compile a straightforward account events, referencing as many primary sources as possible. Although none of the surviving castaways agreed to be interviewed, and Lloyd Owens suffers from Alzheimer’s and is currently in assisted living, several major sources proved helpful. Bruce Arnold, Hinkley’s best friend, provided invaluable letters, and Owens’ children were kind enough to share drafts of his memoirs….[footnote]Morris Procter, You’ll Hear a Tale: The Minnow Murder Case (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2010), xi.[/footnote]
 

New York Times, February 3, 1971: 
 
DEAD BODY FOUND ON CASTAWAYS’ ISLAND 
 
Sherwood Williams, one of two men who remained behind when the famed “lost castaways” returned to Hawaii, was found dead shortly after the Navy arrived to pick him and his partner up, per CNO Elmo Zumwait. Zumwait called a press conference today to announce the discovery and said that “it looks like murder.” No charges have yet been filed…. 

 
 From the unpublished memoirs of Lloyd Owens: 
 
         All I want is to tell my side of the story. Grumby and Hinkley got away with murder. That’s all there was to it. But I’m the one who comes off looking like an asshole, because everyone believes their story. 
   We came to the island looking for a place to build a resort, and also for a vacation. Denver Resorts had been going strong for years, and we’d just opened new hotels in Honolulu, Tokyo, and Bangkok. Woody wanted to take a break, but he was always looking at the grand scheme of things. The man just wasn’t capable of relaxing. Always the BBD—bigger, better deal. Me, I had two condos, a new swimming pool and three kids in private school. So I was ready to go, too. We left Honolulu January 29th, 1971, and got to the island three days later. Woody had found it the year before while he was jetting around in his seaplane. He saw it from the air, and of course he didn’t bother getting it charted for a boat. We wandered around for hours before he radioed for assistance and got his coordinates straight. Dumb bastard. 
  Anyway, we arrived on the island at six A.M. on the first. And after breakfast, we scoped the place out. Beautiful—lots of tropical flowers and pineapple trees, coconut trees, bananas, all that stuff. The volcano was intimidating, but it looked inactive, and there was a gorgeous lagoon on the other side. Woody said it was a piece of cake. Get some bulldozers in and level a patch of jungle near the beach, and boom, you got your resort up and rich folks pouring in a mile a minute. Room for restaurants and nightclubs, too. It’d be like Monte Carlo in the Pacific. 
    I tell you, that island had everything. Underground caves, one full of water and another which looked like it had gold in it. And helium deposits. Woody put his hat down on this funny-looking rock and suddenly it’s floating in the air! Tell you, it was made to be exploited. 
  So we’re scouting and talking about design plans and all that stuff, when wham, something hits me on the head. Hurt like a MF. I’m out like a light. Next thing I know, I wake up tied to a palm tree, with Woody tied to another one across from me, and there’re these two guys leaning over us, one of ‘em big as a house, leering in our faces. 
  They kept demanding the same thing: “Where’s the boat?” Over and over, smacking us around when we tried to get them to untie us and discuss things reasonably, acting half crazy. The big guy squats down and waves this huge knife an inch from my nose, saying, “Tell me where the boat is before I cut myself some nuts.” Shit, I was crying and pleading with him not to hurt me. Then the other guy says don’t bother, that we could just wait and starve to death while they looked for the boat if we didn’t want to talk. Woody’s begging with them, saying he’ll give them a fortune if they’ll let us go, and they just laughed. 
Fine, Woody says. We’ll take you to the boat, just don’t kill us. And they say all right, but we’ve got our eyes on you. They untie us, and the fat guy’s got his knife in my side and the other guy’s got one in Woody’s, and he starts leading them back to the boat. 
   So we’re halfway through the jungle, and we get to a clearing, and all of a sudden Woody turns and swings at the smaller guy, and I take off before the fat guy can grab me, straight into a palm tree. Wham, I crack my head on the trunk, and then a coconut falls down and knocks me in the head. So I’m out like a light again. 
      When I woke up, everything was quiet. My scalp was bleeding like crazy, and I could hardly stand. But I pull myself up and look around, and no one’s there. I sneak back as quiet as I can to the boat, with no sign of Woody or the two nuts. And when I get there, the boat’s gone. 
   I searched that island up and down the coast, trying to find our boat. Nothing. Except I did find the huts where the fruitcakes must have lived. Not a sign of them, though, or anyone else, even though they had five huts, chairs and tables and bedsteads, for God’s sake. They even had bamboo toilets! 
 You better believe I was scared by that time. I started calling Woody’s name until I was hoarse, stumbling all over the island, wiping blood out of my eyes every five minutes or so. Finally, just when I’d almost given up, I burst into a clearing and almost tripped over his body. Flies were crawling all over him. His neck hung crooked, and both his arms were broken. He had dried blood coming out of his nose and mouth. I almost threw up looking at him. 
    I turned and ran and didn’t stop until I’d holed up in one of those caves. I stayed there, only going out to snatch a few bananas and some water, terrified that the nutcases would come back and kill me like they did Woody. When I heard the Coast Guard guy right outside the cave, I ran out and nearly kissed his feet, I was so glad to see him…. 
   Don’t let anyone fool you. Those guys weren’t helpless victims. They made me and Woody look like the bad guys, but they beat him to death and nearly killed me, too. And now they’re walking around free and I’m stuck here in my house, getting death threats from assholes across the country.[footnote]Procter, 11-13. [/footnote]
 

Defense Witness Deposition, March 18, 1971 
 
Q: Please state and spell your name for the record. 
 
A: Miss Mary Ann Summers. M-A-R-Y A-N-N S-U-M-M-E-R-S. 
 
Q: And your address? 
 
A: 425 Horner’s Corners, Winfield, Kansas. 
 
Q: Have you given a deposition in this case before? 
 
A: No, sir. 
 
Q: You understand that you must testify as if in a court of law? 
 
A: Yes, sir. 
 
Q: All right. Please tell us when you first saw Mr. Williams. 
 
A: Um…it was on Friday, January 29th of this year, right before lunch. 
 
Q: The 29th? 
 
A: Yes, sir. 
 
Q: Not the 31st? 
 
A: No. You see, my favorite radio show was on that morning—Old Doctor Young—and I remember that Young Dr. Young had just proposed to Mrs. Frobisher after her husband had died from eating poison mushrooms. And— 
 
MR. JOHNSON, D.A.: Miss Summers, please stick to the topic. 
 
A: Oh! I’m sorry. 
 
Q: As you were saying, Miss Summers. 
 
A: Well, anyway, it was that Friday. I’d just finished listening, and I was trying to get lunch ready, when Gilligan ran in shouting that we were rescued. 
 
Q: How did you react? 
 
A: Well, I didn’t take it too seriously at first. Gilligan used to tell us we’d been rescued at least once a month. But then the Skipper came in with two strange men. 
 
JOHNSON: Could you please identify these three individuals by name? 
 
A: The Skipper, and Mr. Sherwood Williams and Lloyd Owens. 
 
Q: By “the Skipper”, you mean Captain Jonas Grumby. 
 
A: Yes, I guess so. We always just called him the Skipper. 
 
Q: At any rate, tell us what happened next. 
 
A: Well, um, we all crowded around and talked to them. They said they’d come to take a look at the island for a resort they wanted to build. And the Professor asked them where their boat was, and they said on the other side of the island, but that it needed some work. Then the Skipper offered to fix it, and they said it was fine, that they just needed to replace a spark plug or something. And they said they’d like to look around some more before they took us back to Hawaii. 
 
Q: How did everyone react to that? 
 
A: We were disappointed. But Mr. Williams said that he should be done by the next day, and that we could leave that afternoon. And that cheered us all up again. 
 
Q: All right. Go on. 
 
A: Well, Ginger and I went out to gather more fruit so I could bake a coconut cream pie for dessert. I think— 
 
JOHNSON: Just a minute, Miss Summers. How on earth could you bake a coconut cream pie? You didn’t have any eggs. 
 
A: Oh, you use turtle eggs and coconut milk, and dried coconut for the flour. And— 
 
JOHNSON: Never mind. I get the idea. Please, tell us what else happened. 
 
A: Yes, sir. I think Gilligan went to catch more fish, and the Howells went back to their hut to pack. I don’t know what the Skipper and the Professor did. 
 
Q: Do you know if they stayed together, or went separate ways? 
 
A: The last time I saw them, they were talking together. 
 
Q: All right. What about Mr. Williams and Mr. Owens? 
 
A: They went off to explore the island some more. But they came back for dinner. We had swordfish, papayas, bananas, and coconut cream pie. Mr. Owens asked me for the recipe. 
 
Q: That’s fine, Miss Summers. Perhaps we could jump ahead to the next afternoon. 
 
A: Yes, of course. We’d all packed, and we were waiting for Mr. Williams and Mr. Owen to get back so we could leave. But they didn’t come back until very late. By that time we’d given up and made dinner. 
 
Q: Did they offer an excuse? 
 
A: They apologized and said they’d lost track of the time. 
 
Q: How did Captain Grumby and Professor Hinkley react to this? 
 
A: The same way we all did. They were upset. The Skipper asked if we could leave the next morning, and they said of course. 
 
Q: But you didn’t leave that morning. 
 
A: No. They’d gone out again before we got up. So we had a meeting about what to do next. 
 
Q: What did you decide? 
 
A: Well, Mr. Howell said he’d offer them a reward. That was what he usually did. 
 
JOHNSON: Excuse me. What do you mean, “He usually did?” 
 
A: Oh, we’d been through this before. With lots of people. 
 
JOHNSON: I beg your pardon? 
 
A: Yes, we’ve almost been rescued dozens of times, but something always happened. That was why we were so worried. 
 
Q: But none of them ever told the authorities about you? 
 
A: No! They always had some reason for not doing it. 
 
JOHNSON: I believe a Miss Tiffany-Smith did mention your existence several years ago. 
 
A: Yes, but she couldn’t tell anyone where we were, and the Navy never investigated. 
 
Q: Let’s get back to the main issue. So Mr. Howell said he would try to influence Mr. Williams and Mr. Owens with money. 
 
A: Yes. And Ginger said she’d try to vamp them. 
 
Q: That would be Miss Grant. 
 
A: Yes. 
 
Q: Were there any other plans made? 
 
A: Well, Gilligan said his usual nonsense. I don’t remember what exactly. 
 
Q: What about Captain Grumby and Professor Hinkley? 
 
A: They agreed that we should try those things first. But they didn’t offer any other ideas. 
 
Q: What happened next? 
 
A: Well, the men came back around dinnertime, with more excuses and apologies. That was when Mr. Howell offered them a ten thousand dollar reward to leave with us the next morning. And they just laughed at him. They said, “This island’s worth billions, you piker.” 
  So then we ate dinner, and went to bed. Well, I went to bed. Ginger said she was going to talk to them, and she slipped out in her nicest dress. And she came back—maybe an hour or two later. I’d just fallen asleep. 
 
Q: Did her plan work? 
 
A: No. But she was smiling. She said she was going to meet them after breakfast the next morning. 
 
Q: Do you know if Captain Grumby or Professor Hinkley made any effort to talk to Mr. Williams or Owen? 
 
A: I don’t know. I suppose they might have. 
 
Q: Now, Miss Summers, please tell us exactly what happened the next morning, February 1st. 
 
A: Well, we got up and ate breakfast. Neither of the men was there. When we were done, Ginger went off to look for them. I had the dishes to do, so I didn’t see anyone for a couple of hours. I don’t know where they went. 
  Then, about mid-morning, Ginger came back. I asked her if her plan had worked, and she said no. She seemed upset. 
 
Q: Was anyone else there when she told you this? 
 
A: Yes. The Skipper and the Professor. 
 
Q: What did they do? 
 
A: [no response] 
 
Q: Miss Summers, please answer the question. 
 
A: They went off into the jungle. They said they were going to find those men and reason with them. 
 
Q: Were those their exact words—“reason with them?” 
 
A: That’s what the Professor said, yes. The Skipper said to get everything ready to go, and to have everyone wait for them to come back. So I told the Howells, and they went to finish packing. Gilligan was off somewhere. 
  After about an hour, Gilligan came back, and I told him what the Skipper had said. Mr. and Mrs. Howell came out with their things. Then about ten minutes later, the Skipper and Professor came back. They said they’d gotten the key, and to follow them. So we did, and they led us to where the boat was. And we got on it and left. 
 
Q: Without Mr. Williams and Mr. Owens? 
 
A: (pause) Yes. 
 
Q: Did you ask Captain Grumby and Professor Hinkley where they were? 
 
A: Well, of course. They said they’d decided to stay a while longer, and that we could send the Navy back for them. They had plenty of food, and the huts to sleep in. 
 
Q: So you didn’t worry about them. 
 
A: No. 
 
JOHNSON: Miss Summers, did it cross your mind that foul play might have been involved? 
 
A: No! The Skipper and the Professor would never have done anything like that. Besides, Gin—besides, we wanted to get home! We’d been on that island for almost seven years! 
 
JOHNSON: All right, Miss Summers, calm down. We understand how you must have felt. We’re just trying to find out what happened here. 
 
A: Well, it wasn’t the Skipper or Professor. They wouldn’t have done something like that. Maybe someone else was on the island. 
 
 
New York Times, March 23, 1971: 
 
ACCUSED IN ‘MINNOW MURDER’ CASE CHOKES TO DEATH 
 
         Captain Jonas Grumby, the skipper of the S.S. Minnow who was recently indicted by a grand jury for the murder of Sherwood Williams, asphyxiated a piece of steak last night and was pronounced dead on arrival at Bellevue Hospital. 
 
         Grumby, who had noticeably gained weight since the castaways’ rescue last month, was free on bail. 
 
         When reached for comment, Professor Roy Hinkley, also free on bail in the case, said, “I always warned the Skipper about proper mastication. I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner; he’d been dining out on steak every night since our rescue.” 

 
 
Excerpts from letters written by Roy Hinkley to Bruce Arnold, 1972-74 
 
         …been quite difficult to have my reputation impugned by all this. How anyone could believe that someone in my position could be capable of cold-blooded murder is impossible for me to fathom. Still, the aftereffects of the trial linger on despite the official verdict. 
   I know that I can trust your discretion, Bruce, as we’ve been close friends for a number of years. Let me reassure you that I am completely innocent of all charges. The Skipper and I were quite frustrated, yes, but anyone would be in our situation. We’d tried logic, and Mr. Howell and Miss Grant had appealed to the baser aspects of their nature. 
  When the Skipper and I conferred that morning, he was far more upset than I. He did suggest violence, but only to the extent of forcing them to give us the key. I calmed him down and tried to persuade him that they could still be reasoned with. He pointed out that they had resisted any attempts to be swayed by our arguments. Reluctantly, I agreed that some degree of force might be necessary. 
   We set out to look for them, and finally came upon them near the clearing where we’d found that totem pole, the one I told you about earlier. I wanted to impress upon them again the importance of a prompt rescue, but unfortunately, the Skipper had run out of patience. He took a coconut and rendered each of them unconscious with it. 
   After I’d ascertained that neither man had been seriously hurt, we searched them for the key. Finding nothing, I agreed with the Skipper that we had to be more persuasive. We immobilized them both and waited until they regained consciousness. Then we began questioning them. 
   …Bruce, I swear to you that neither of us threatened them physically, either with or without a knife. Such a course of action would only be counter-productive, in any case. However, psychologically, the stress of the situation coupled with the intimidation of the Skipper’s demeanor eventually prompted a response from Mr. Williams. He agreed to show us where he’d hidden the key. 
   We freed them and allowed them to lead us through the jungle. After several minutes, however, they turned on us and began fighting. I’m uncertain, but I believe the Skipper managed to incapacitate Mr. Owens once again. As for myself, I struggled for several minutes with Mr. Williams before he broke free and ran into the jungle. 
  The Skipper began to pursue him when I shouted at him to stop, that I’d found the key. It must have fallen from Williams’ pocket. We had already found the boat, so we decided to let him go and headed back to the huts. Everyone was ready, and we led each of them to the boat and cast off. I had already decided to inform the authorities promptly upon our discovery. What actually happened to Mr. Williams, I simply cannot fathom. 
  …and I want to reassure you that any rumors you may have heard about Miss Grant are merely that. Seeing her name dragged through the mud is the most unpleasant aspect of this entire case, even more so than my own besmirchment.[footnote]Procter, 136-138.[/footnote]
 

Variety, May 1971. Excerpted from The Ginger Grant Story, by Louise Foray, p. 44. 
 
…when questioned about her final days upon the island, Miss Grant became rather defensive. “I’ve got nothing to say” was her initial comment on the matter. When I asked her about Miss Summers’ allegation that she had propositioned Mr. Williams, she became indignant. “I never said a word to either of those men. Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous of me. Mary Ann always wanted to be me, anyway. She had no right to go saying things like that.” 

 Transcript of Case #54872-BHZ, People vs. Hinkley, July 22, 1971. Excerpted from W. Gilligan’s testimony. His Honor Melvin Schafer presiding. 
 
WELLS JOHNSON, DA: Mr. Gilligan, could you please— 
 
GILLIGAN: That’s not my name. 
 
J: I have your name as William Gilligan. Did you change it? 
 
G: No, my name’s just Gilligan. 
 
J: You have no first name? 
 
G: Nope. 
 
SCHAFER: Mr. Gilligan, please take a more deferential tone with this court. As for his name, Mr. Johnson, I suggest you humor the witness. 
 
J: Thank you, Your Honor. Now, “Gilligan”, would you please tell me precisely what happened on the morning of February 1st, 1971? 
 
G: Well, let’s see. I got up and got out of my hammock. Then I brushed my teeth and went to the bathroom. Then I combed my hair. Then— 
 
J: Not quite that precisely, Mr. Gilligan! What happened after breakfast? 
 
G: I went down to the lagoon to say goodbye to Myrtle. 
 
J: Myrtle? 
 
G: She’s a turtle I have there. I wanted to take her back with me, but the Professor said she should stay with her eggs. 
 
J: Did you see anyone else? 
 
G: Huh-uh. 
 
J: Neither the defendant nor Captain Grumby? 
 
G: No. Just Myrtle. Oh, and Ginger. 
 
J: Well, that’s someone else, isn’t it? 
 
ROBERT BRADY, DEFENSE ATTORNEY: Objection! Badgering the witness. 
 
SCHAFER: Sustained. 
 
J: My apologies, M—Gilligan. You saw Miss Grant. 
 
G: Yeah. She was crying about something. 
 
J: Crying? 
 
G: Yeah. I asked her what happened, but she wouldn’t tell me. Her dress had gotten torn. Maybe that’s why she was crying. 
 
J: Then what happened? 
 
G: I headed back to the huts, but when I got there, everybody was gone. So I went back into the jungle to see if I could find the boat. 
 
J: The defendant and Grumby didn’t show it to you? 
 
G: No. They didn’t want me to foul up another rescue. 
 
J: Another rescue? 
 
G: Yeah. We’d almost been rescued twenty or thirty times, but I always messed it up. 
 
J: I see. So what happened in the jungle? 
 
G: I ran into Gladys, and I told her goodbye, too. 
 
J: Gladys? 
 
G: Yeah. She’s a gorilla. 
 
J: A gorilla? 
 
G: Uh-huh. There’s about three or four of them on the island. 
 
J: Mr. Gilligan, gorillas are not native to the South Pacific. Yet you contend you saw a gorilla. 
 
G: I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Johnson. Gladys has been there since we got there. 
 
J: But—Never mind. You saw Gladys, and then what? 
 
G: Well, I told Gladys I’d seen Ginger, and how she’d been crying. Gladys got upset and ran off somewhere. Then I went back to the huts. 
 
J: (pause) You didn’t see the defendant? 
 
G: Nope. I mean, no, sir. But I saw Mr. Howell. 
 
J: In the jungle? 
 
G: Yeah. I don’t think he saw me, though. He had his head down, and he was running back to the huts. I started to talk to him, but he ran right by me. 
 
J: Miss Summers has testified that you were gone most of the morning. Did it take so much time to say goodbye to a gorilla? 
 
G: I don’t know. My watch stopped a couple of years ago, so I don’t know how long it was. 
 
J: What happened after you returned to the huts? 
 
G: The Skipper and Professor came back, and they had the key. So we got our stuff and ran to the boat. 
 
J: Did they say anything about Mr. Williams or Mr. Owens? 
 
G: They said we’d send the Coast Guard back to come get them, and that they were going to stay a couple more days to keep looking at hotel sites. 
 
J: No one questioned this? 
 
G: No. Why would we? 
 
J: It didn’t strike you as suspicious that your skipper and the defendant had the key and that there was no sign of either Williams or Owens? 
 
G: No. I thought they liked it here. 
 
J: No further questions, Your Honor. 
 

Wall Street Journal, January 17, 1972: 
 
HOWELL INDUSTRIES PURCHASES CASTAWAYS’ ISLAND 
 
         Howell Industries, owned by multimillionaire Thurston Howell III, was reported to have purchased the island where Howell, his wife and five others were stranded for seven years. John Donner, representative for HI, reported the purchase price as $10 million, outbidding Denver Resorts and several other developers. Donner stated that HI has plans to develop the island for future projects, although he did not disclose specifics…. 

 …we ask ourselves, what really happened on Gilligan’s island the morning of February 1st? Despite days of testimony and hours of deliberation by the jury, twelve good men were unable to reach a verdict. And still, after forty years, the truth of those final hours eludes us. 
   Public opinion has rendered its own verdict in favor of the castaways. Sadly, that offers little comfort to the few remaining. Hinkley has become a recluse, living with Arnold in San Francisco. Grant’s film career has long since sputtered out, although she occasionally surfaces in a cable TV movie. Summers, now Mrs. Higgenbotham, manages an agribusiness with her husband in Kansas. 
  The rest have passed away: Captain Grumby, the Howells, and the mysterious child-like man known only as Gilligan. In the end, they may have preferred to remain on the island where they lived isolated from the rest of the world, forming friendships which lasted until broken by death. It is unfortunate that so closely-knit a community ended in disarray and enigmas. We on the outside can only look with wonder upon the castaways and console ourselves with the riddle of the tale we have heard of the three-hour tour that ended so tragically in death.[footnote]Procter, 225.[/footnote]