One Family’s Fight for Justice in Amarillo. A Barbed Wire Investigation

Happy belated Juneteeth, I’m The Barbed Wire senior editor Brian Gaar. Today’s newsletter highlights an important piece we’ve published.

Felita Bailey was 25, saving up from her job at the Tyson plant in Amarillo while working toward her dental hygienist certification. She went out with her cousins one night over Labor Day weekend — and by morning, she was dead. Shot in the back.

The suspect initially charged with her murder — a white man named Dylan Black — was caught on video with a gun and talking about shooting someone, according to a criminal complaint. 

But just two days later, the charges were dropped. Months later, authorities arrested a different suspect: a Black man, a relative who none of the 15 people interviewed — including family members and eight witnesses at the party — ever brought up as a suspect before his arrest.

Now, Felita’s family is accusing Amarillo police of a cover-up.

We spent six months with Felita’s family, digging through court records, hospital reports, and eyewitness interviews to piece together what really happened that night — and what it says about justice in Amarillo.

‘In Amarillo, Black Women Die:’ The Unresolved Murder of Felita Bailey

Felita Bailey went out with cousins in Amarillo on Friday of Labor Day weekend. By sunrise, she was dead. The main suspect in her murder, a white man in his early 20s, lied to police about wielding a gun at the party where she was shot, until police presented him with video evidence. He was arrested and charged for murder. Then, he was released, infuriating Felita’s family. Police now say he fired the gun — but isn’t the culprit. And the family is accusing law enforcement in the former suspected “sundown town” of a coverup.

By Sam Judy

Felita Bailey let the shower melt away the sweat and grease from her long shift on the packing line at Tyson Foods. The beef plant could be an assault on the senses. Cows are slaughtered in-house, then processed, pre-cooked, and packaged before being loaded onto trucks. 

She was lucky to get a job at the end of the line, away from the worst of the gore. Her grandmother and namesake, Felita Jovon Bailey, had been a presence at the Amarillo plant for decades; her recommendation was 24-karat. The younger Felita didn’t intend to be at Tyson’s long-term like so many family members. She’d collect a few more paychecks and finish her dental hygienist certification. Then she planned to head back to Dallas, where her mom, Odessa Bailey, lived.

In the meantime, she’d stay with her grandmother and save as much as possible. Still, the stale sweetness of the meat and oil that soaked into her work shirt took getting used to. Felita wanted to break out of her routine and have fun that night. So she let the day’s work wash down the drain. 

It was the end of August 2024, the Friday of Labor Day weekend. And her cousin Demajiae Bibles was turning 27. 

They’d agreed to skip their normal post-work “Martin” reruns and movie marathons to go out drinking. Demajiae arrived as Felita finished getting ready, leaning on her tiptoes to apply her eyeliner in the mirror. She picked out a black and white dress and coordinated her makeup.

By 10 p.m., they headed to Mulligan’s Sports Bar, not far from downtown Amarillo. Afterwards, they met up with Kanye Bailey and two more cousins, and barhopped on Polk Street, where dives and nightclubs offer a respite from the tedium of Yellow City.  

Less than 200 feet down the strip, over speakers blaring 2010-era party anthems, another group of friends gathered at Bodegas. At the center was La’Toi Johnson, whose notoriety had followed him from his days as a varsity cornerback for the Tascosa High School Rebels (yes, that type of rebel).

There, too, was Dylan Zane Black, a white friend of La’Toi’s, better known to many as DZ. And the Marrero brothers, who’d offered their house on Avondale Street for an afterparty. 

Unlike La’Toi and Dylan, Felita was an outsider. She was more of a Dallas suburbanite, despite family roots in the Panhandle. Beyond the bars, Felita couldn’t see the faultlines. Or the lingering effects of a time when Black folks, especially Black women, weren’t welcome after dark. 

By sunrise, Felita was dead. She was shot in the back. And Dylan was the primary suspect. 

Want to see more? Become a member!