On a quiet day decades after Richmond’s worst year of violence, two gray‑haired prosecutors slipped into a parole board office with an unusual request: they wanted mercy for a convicted killer they had once helped put away. ^[1] The man was Duncan Eric Meekins, a teenage accomplice to the Briley brothers’ 1979 murder spree, serving life plus 100 years under an alias in an out‑of‑state prison. ^[1]

To the families of the dead, Meekins was one more murderer who helped destroy a city. To the men who prosecuted the case, he was also the witness who made it possible to stop the Brileys at all. ^[1]

A Teenager in the Orbit of the Briley Gang

In 1979, Richmond and neighboring Henrico County were stalked by three brothers—Linwood, James, and Anthony Briley—and a teenage friend, Duncan Eric Meekins. ^[2] Authorities later said that, together, they were responsible for at least 11 killings that year. ^[1][2] Some accounts suggest the true toll may have been higher. ^[3]

Meekins was only 16 when police finally arrested him alongside the Brileys in October 1979. ^[1][4] By then, the gang had already left a trail of robbed homes, raped women, and murdered strangers across the city’s East End, West End, and North Side. ^[4]

The brothers were not drifters or outsiders. They grew up in Richmond’s Highland Park neighborhood and would become some of its most notorious residents. ^[5] Linwood, the oldest, emerged as the calculating leader of the gang. ^[5] Richmond prosecutor Warren Von Schuch later called the brothers “killing machines” and “incredibly, inhumanly mean.” ^[2]

Well before Meekins fell in with them, violence had already marked the Briley name.

Violence Before the Spree

On January 28, 1971, 16‑year‑old Linwood Briley shot and killed 57‑year‑old neighbor Orline Christian with a rifle as she hung laundry outside. ^[6] His lawyer convinced a judge the shooting was an accident; Linwood was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter and sent to reform school for a year. ^[6]

James Briley’s first serious tangle with police also came as a teenager, when he robbed a convenience store and fired shots at a pursuing officer. ^[6][7]

Years later, Von Schuch would describe the brothers’ home life as troubled, noting that their father slept with padlocks on his bedroom door because he feared them. ^[7]

By early 1979, the Brileys’ violence escalated into something closer to open warfare on their own city—and Meekins, still in his teens, was drawn into it.

Spring 1979: Robberies Turn to Murder

The spree began with what looked like a home invasion for money.

On March 12, 1979, Linwood knocked on the Henrico County door of William and Virginia Bucher, pretending he had car trouble. ^[4][6] Once the door opened, he forced his way in at gunpoint and waved his brother Anthony inside. ^[6] The Buchers were tied up and robbed; then rooms were doused with kerosene and a lit match tossed, leaving the couple bound in a burning house. ^[4][6] Somehow, they freed themselves and escaped. ^[4][6]

Nine days later, 20‑year‑old vending serviceman Michael McDuffie was abducted in Henrico County. ^[4] Linwood and Anthony robbed him, and Linwood shot him, leaving his body in his car. ^[4]

Meekins’ name surfaces clearly on March 31. That day, Linwood fatally shot 28‑year‑old Edric Alvin Clark at Clark’s East End home during what was described as a drug dispute that “also involved” Meekins. ^[4] The surviving teen was no bystander—he was now part of the gang’s inner circle.

On April 9, the group targeted 76‑year‑old Mary W. Gowen. They robbed her in front of her West End apartment; Linwood then raped and fatally shot her. ^[4] Meekins joined Linwood in the robbery, and Anthony Briley was also present during the attack. ^[4]

The pattern hardened: an elderly or vulnerable victim, a robbery that became a killing, and Meekins alongside the brothers as the violence ratcheted up.

Beatings and a DJ’s Murder

On July 3, 17‑year‑old Christopher M. Phillips was caught tampering with Linwood’s car on Richmond’s North Side. ^[4] Linwood, Anthony, and Meekins beat him. ^[4] Linwood then struck Phillips in the head with a piece of concrete and killed him. ^[4]

In September, the spree claimed one of its most publicized victims: Richmond disc jockey John Harvey “Johnny G” Gallaher. On September 14, the Briley gang robbed Gallaher and Linwood shot him in the back on Mayo Island. ^[4]

Accounts from that night are chillingly precise. The Brileys and Meekins captured Gallaher and took him to Mayo Island on the James River. ^[2] Meekins later testified that after they robbed and pushed Gallaher from the car, Linwood shot him as he struggled to stand. ^[2] Linwood would eventually be sentenced to death for Gallaher’s murder. ^[2][7]

Two weeks later, on September 30, nurse Mary S. Wilfong, 62, was beaten to death with a baseball bat in Henrico County and robbed. ^[4] Meekins, James, and Anthony accompanied Linwood that night. ^[4]

On October 6, Linwood used a pipe to beat to death 75‑year‑old Blanche I. Page and her 59‑year‑old boarder, Charles W. Garner, on Richmond’s North Side. ^[4] Their murders set the stage for the final, most infamous attack.

The Saunders Killing: Meekins Pulls the Trigger

On October 14, 1979, violence edged even closer to Meekins himself. That day, Linwood, James, and Meekins visited 32‑year‑old Thomas Saunders. ^[6] A scuffle followed. Richmond reporting and later summaries agree on one central point: Meekins shot and killed Saunders. ^[4][6] Linwood and James were also involved in the fight. ^[4]

Prosecutors would later say that Meekins killed another man as well, though he was never prosecuted for that crime. ^[1] Their assertion has never been publicly detailed in the way the other killings were, but it shadows any discussion of his exact tally of victims.

Highland Park: The Wilkerson/Barton Murders

Five days after Saunders’ death, the gang turned on people they knew.

On October 19, 26‑year‑old Harvey W. Wilkerson and his common‑law wife, Judy Diane Barton, were at home in Richmond’s Highland Park neighborhood with their 5‑year‑old son, Harvey Wayne Barton. ^[1][4] The Briley brothers and Meekins entered the home and, according to investigators, pillaged it. ^[4] Several members of the gang raped Barton, who was pregnant. ^[4][8]

By the end of the night, all three members of the household were dead. ^[1] The killings would become the last and most notorious of the spree.

Richmond accounts attribute the shootings inside the house in stark, specific terms. They state that Duncan Meekins fatally shot Harvey Wilkerson, while James Briley killed Judy Barton and their 5‑year‑old son. ^[1][4] James was later sentenced to die for the murder of a pregnant Richmond woman and her 5‑year‑old child—charges tied to the Barton killings. ^[6][7][8]

Other descriptions render the attack more broadly, noting that the Brileys raped a pregnant woman and shot her, her husband, and their young son. ^[3] Over the years, some accounts have questioned or blurred the precise shooter attributions, but Virginia’s courts treated the Richmond narrative as the legal truth.

The bodies were not discovered for three days. ^[6] By then, the Briley gang’s run was almost over.

Arrests and a Deal with the State

On October 22, 1979, police arrested Linwood, James, and Anthony Briley, along with 16‑year‑old Duncan Meekins. ^[1][4] They had been under intense pressure since the Highland Park triple murder, which authorities described as the final act in a months‑long rampage of “mayhem.” ^[1][4]

The three Briley brothers eventually faced a web of charges involving multiple murders, rapes, and robberies. ^[6] Under Virginia’s triggerman statute, Linwood and James received numerous life sentences for murders where they participated but faced capital charges only where they were found to have personally done the killing. ^[6] Linwood was sentenced to death for the abduction and murder of Johnny Gallaher. ^[6] James received two death sentences, one for Judy Barton and one for her son, Harvey Wayne. ^[6]

Anthony Briley, whose involvement prosecutors described as more limited, received a life sentence plus 139 years, with parole technically possible but repeatedly denied. ^[1][7]

For Meekins, the calculus of survival was different. During police interrogation, he accepted a plea agreement: he would turn state’s evidence against the Brileys and give a full account of the crime spree. ^[6] Under that deal, he escaped the death penalty and was to be incarcerated under an alias at an out‑of‑state prison, away from the men he helped condemn. ^[1][6]

Two decades later, the prosecutors who put the Brileys on death row would openly say that without Meekins’ cooperation, they could not have won the key capital‑murder convictions. ^[1]

Life Plus 100 Years Under Another Name

Despite avoiding execution, Meekins’ sentence was crushing. Richmond reporting states that he is serving life plus 100 years for killing Harvey Wilkerson and for his role in two other murders and two robberies. ^[1] He has been held in an out‑of‑state facility under an alias for his protection. ^[1]

By the time his case drew public attention again, he had been in prison nearly 30 years and was 45 years old. ^[1]

Different accounts describe his sentence in slightly different terms. One later summary, marked even there as disputed, says that under the plea agreement he received life plus 80 years with parole eligibility after 12–15 years. ^[6] What is consistent across reporting is that his term is effectively life‑long and that, for all his cooperation, he remained far from freedom.

Other details also make his case unusual. Prosecutors Robert J. Rice and Warren Von Schuch say Meekins killed another man during the spree but was never prosecuted for that homicide. ^[1] They also note that, as far as they know, his only prison infraction has been trying to make a three‑way phone call. ^[1]

Meekins’ applications for parole have been denied multiple times—six denials since 1993, according to the Richmond Times‑Dispatch—and later accounts note that they were rejected despite recommendations from former prosecutors. ^[1][6]

While Meekins Sat, the Brileys Escaped—and Died

The Briley story did not end with their convictions. In May 1984, Linwood and James led what has been called the largest escape of death‑row inmates in U.S. history from Mecklenburg Correctional Center, a prison once thought “escape‑proof.” ^[3] They and four other condemned killers overpowered guards, donned stolen uniforms and riot gear, staged a fake bomb scare, and drove out of the facility in a van. ^[3]

It took nearly three weeks and hundreds of officers and FBI agents to capture the Briley brothers. ^[3] They were finally found in Philadelphia, barbecuing chicken when police closed in. ^[2][3]

Within a year of the escape, both Linwood and James were executed in Virginia’s electric chair. ^[1] Linwood died for murdering DJ Johnny Gallaher. ^[2][7] James followed for the murders of Judy Barton and her son. ^[7][8]

Their younger brother Anthony remained on a life‑plus‑decades sentence. ^[1][7] Meekins stayed hidden in another state, serving his own life‑length term that owed its shape to the part he played in sending the others to death row.

The Closed‑Door Parole Battle

By the early 2000s, Meekins’ name resurfaced in Richmond—not in a courtroom, but in a conference room at the Virginia Parole Board.

Two former prosecutors who had won the Briley convictions, Robert J. Rice and Warren Von Schuch, went to the board’s Richmond offices for a closed‑door meeting with member Rudolph C. McCollum Jr., a former Richmond mayor. ^[1] They were there to argue that Meekins, their own onetime adversary, should be considered for parole. ^[1]

Rice and Von Schuch told McCollum that by testifying against the Briley brothers, Meekins “might have stopped the gang’s 1979 murder rampage in Richmond and Henrico County.” ^[1] Rice put it more bluntly: “Had Meekins just been quiet and not cooperated, then the city of Richmond was going to have a whole lot of problems on their hands.” ^[1]

The two lawyers emphasized that from the outset, they had told Meekins they would speak up for him if he provided truthful testimony, but that they never guaranteed he would be granted parole. ^[1] They said he had maintained good behavior in prison, with the only known infraction being the attempted three‑way call. ^[1]

McCollum later said the prosecutors advocated for Meekins “with great integrity and great passion and great competency.” ^[1] Still, he stressed that for the board, the process was the same as in any other case. ^[1]

In practice, that process is unforgiving. Five governor‑appointed members vote electronically, one after another, and four votes are required to release Meekins. ^[1] As of that meeting, he had been denied parole six times since 1993. ^[1]

Outside the parole offices, the pain of 1979 had not faded. Harvey Wilkerson’s nephew, Robert Jones, contacted the board to oppose Meekins’ release and voiced outrage that anyone would speak on his behalf. ^[1] Jones, then 43 and living in Texas, said he had frequently visited the Wilkersons and had planned to see them two days before they were murdered. ^[1] He stayed home with tonsillitis instead and believes he would have been killed had he gone. ^[1]

For Jones and other relatives of the dead, Meekins is not just a witness; he is the man who, according to Richmond accounts, shot Harvey Wilkerson to death in his own home. ^[1][4]

A Deal, a Debt, and an Open Question

Duncan Eric Meekins occupies a rare and uneasy space in American criminal history. At 16, he joined older, more infamous men in a spree that terrorized Richmond and Henrico County. ^[1] He helped rob, beat, and in some cases kill people who had done nothing more than open their doors or cross paths with the wrong car. ^[4]

He then did something none of the Brileys ever did: he turned on the gang, laid out the crimes in detail, and helped send its leaders to the electric chair. ^[1][6] In return, he escaped execution but not the rest of his life behind bars. ^[1][6]

Prosecutors who once called the Brileys “killing machines” now say their former accomplice deserves a chance at life outside prison because of the role he played in stopping them. ^[1][2] Victims’ families, including those who lost loved ones in the Highland Park massacre, argue that no amount of cooperation can balance the fact that Meekins was part of the killing—and, in some accounts, the one who pulled the trigger on a 26‑year‑old father. ^[1][4]

Decades on, Meekins remains incarcerated under another name, his fate decided in electronic votes cast far from the streets where the crimes occurred. ^[1] His case forces a hard question that Richmond, and Virginia’s parole board, have never fully escaped: how much forgiveness, if any, is owed to the teenage accomplice who helped end a reign of terror he helped create.