Finding Joe Antrim and his Final Resting Place

 by Keegan Cool 

The year was 2021, and I was already tumbling down the rabbit hole that Billy the Kid researchers often find themselves in. I wasn’t uncovering anything groundbreaking—just striving to better understand Henry McCarty, Billy Bonney, and Billy the Kid. Our group had been hard at work creating a new episode, or in this case, a full-length (albeit low-budget) documentary about the famed outlaw for our YouTube channel.

As with any project, I immersed myself in as much material as possible, reading everything I could from every angle. Over the past few weeks, I had devoured five books on Billy the Kid, though most seemed like little more than polished retellings of Pat Garrett’s The Authentic Life of Billy the Kid. 

When I returned to my bookshelf to select the next book, my finger landed on Billy the Kid: The Endless Ride by Michael Wallis. Flipping to pages 40-41, at the beginning of Chapter Six, “Pulp Fiction,” my eyes were drawn to a photograph on the left—a picture of Larimer Street in Denver, Colorado, taken in 1870. I felt a rush of excitement, seeing a connection to Billy’s history in my home state, only 40 minutes away. 

I soon discovered that Joe Antrim, Billy the Kid’s brother, had spent his later years in Colorado, moving from Trinidad to Denver, where he ultimately passed away. Curious, I typed “Joe Antrim’s grave” into Google. Having visited Billy’s grave to pay my respects, it felt only right to do the same for Joe, especially since he had lived and died in Denver. 

The first result was a Find-A-Grave entry for Joe. When I clicked on the link and scrolled down, I was surprised to see that his burial information simply read, “Donated to medical science. Specifically, Colorado Medical School.” 

I thought surely, after 91 years, someone must have discovered where Joe was buried. After all, even the most tenuously connected figures to Billy the Kid seemed to have detailed pages dedicated to them on Wikipedia. How could Joe’s final resting place remain a mystery? 

I dug deeper, typing “Where was Joseph Antrim buried in Colorado?” into Google. Time and again, every article I found offered the same refrain: Joe had died penniless and was donated to the medical school. 

The search for Joe’s final resting place had, quite literally, reached a dead end. For the time being, that was as far as our research into Joe Antrim could go. But any researcher knows that once the bug bites, it doesn’t let go easily.

Some time later, I was wandering through an antique shop in Aurora, Colorado, when I stumbled upon a peculiar display of old medical tools—and, shockingly, a human organ. Peering closer, I saw real human skulls. When I asked the owner where they had come from, he explained they were originally from the medical school. My mind raced. I couldn’t help but think of Joe. Could his remains have been sold or misplaced? 

I asked the owner another question: when had the person died? He believed it was in the early 1900s. I studied the skull again but knew it wasn’t Joe.

By 2023, as our group drove down that long, empty stretch of road between Fort Sumner and Las Vegas, New Mexico, my thoughts returned to Joe. While so many videos and books focused on Billy, I wanted to do something different. The idea of dedicating an episode to Joe resurfaced, strengthened by reading James B. Mills’ Billy the Kid: El Bandido Simpático. Mills brought Billy’s world to life like no one else, making it feel vivid and real—not a fairytale. Inspired, I resolved to create an episode that Joe deserved. 

Early in my collaboration with James Townsend on Chasing Billy, he mentioned, “Denver is a hotbed of research that needs to be done about Joe Antrim. If we ever need boots on the ground, I may enlist you.” After the show with James and Josh Slatten, the topic of Joe kept resurfacing. We exchanged research and ideas. Eventually, the notion of placing a marker for Joe in his memory came up. I loved the idea. Joe deserved recognition, even if only at the medical school or a mass grave where he might rest. But the nagging thought lingered: could we find evidence of his burial in a local cemetery? The odds seemed slim.

We knew Joe had died on November 25, 1930, and, per his death certificate, was donated to the medical school days later. Articles in the Rocky Mountain News listed Joe among the unclaimed dead at the State Mortuary on 4200 E. Ninth Avenue in Denver. Yet, no burial site was mentioned.

Further research revealed records indicating Joe’s body was received by the medical school on November 29, 1930. Oddly, a notation from 1952 simply stated, “A. Freeze traces McCarty family.” Why was Joe still unaccounted for 22 years after his death?

I began searching for answers, typing, “Where did the Colorado Medical School bury cadavers?” into Google. A snippet from the medical school’s site explained that remains were cremated and interred at a Colorado State Anatomical Board plot at Fairmount Cemetery in Denver. This seemed promising. I also left a voicemail with the Colorado Anatomical Board, explaining my search for Joe.

On Friday, July 12, 2024, my phone rang. A voice introduced herself as Kate, asking if I was researching Joe Antrim. “Yes, that’s me,” I replied. 

She confirmed that Joe’s remains had been cremated. Then she said the words that hit me like a lightning bolt: “His cremains were interred at the Pioneer Cemetery in Aurora. It’s called the Melvin-Lewis Cemetery today.” 

I was stunned. After all this time, I finally had an answer. 

Kate asked if I knew where the cemetery was. “Yes,” I said, “it’s in a parking lot near Home Depot!” I had driven by it countless times, often feeling drawn to visit, but the gates were always locked. Kate explained that the school no longer owned the cemetery and directed me to contact the Cherry Creek Valley Historical Society to discuss placing a headstone.

Once I got off the phone, I sent a short message to Slatten and Townsend: “Mission accomplished! Got the call, and I know where he is!” Moments later, we were on the phone together, buzzing with excitement. Naturally, the question came up: “When are you getting pictures?” I already knew the answer.

For this next part, I want to include sentiments from fellow Culz members Matt LeClaire and Sam Vander Meulen. They endured my relentless research bug and accompanied me to so many historical sites.

Matt shared: “Our casual Friday plans took an unexpected turn when Keegan texted about a major discovery. Instead of filming in town, we found ourselves heading to a gravesite for a potentially game-changing find. The excitement among our group grew as we approached the site, eager to uncover what we’d been searching for.”

Sam added: “When Keegan mentioned Billy’s brother was in Denver, I had honestly forgotten Billy had a brother. Never would I have guessed he was donated to the medical school for dissection. I wouldn’t have known he was cremated and placed in a school’s burial site without a marker. It was like something was drawing Keegan to this discovery—and maybe now we know why.”

Matt met me at my house, and together with Sam, we drove to the Melvin-Lewis Cemetery. It felt like hours (though it was only about 40 minutes). I couldn’t stop talking, babbling about Kate’s revelations and my disbelief that the cemetery had been hiding in plain sight. As we pulled into the parking lot, I beelined for the gates, snapping pictures and soaking it all in.

We filmed, took photos, and made video calls to Slatten and Townsend to share the discovery. The cemetery’s location is surreal—a small fenced-in area surrounded by modernity, with a Chick-fil-A to the north and a strip mall to the south. Still, standing there, I felt a profound sense of relief. Joe’s final resting place wasn’t a dusty shelf, a forgotten box, or some display case. He was here, alongside 1,600 others who donated their bodies to advance medical science.

The Cherry Creek Valley Historical Society provided more details, confirming that the cremains of those 1,600 individuals were buried inside a smaller fenced section of the cemetery. A marker, placed by the school, reads:

“In Gratitude – They advanced medicine, and all have benefited by what they gave.”

Joe’s journey ended here, not at the medical school but at the Melvin-Lewis Cemetery, a historic plot with a view of the Rockies. After years of mystery, it feels fitting and right that Joe’s story comes to rest in a place where his contribution to medical science is acknowledged.

The journey to find Joe’s grave has been a deeply personal one. It wasn’t just about solving a historical puzzle but about giving back to the Billy the Kid community that has shown us so much kindness. Along the way, we’ve forged friendships with incredible people—John LeMay, Jor-el Vaasborg, James B. Mills, Melanie Hubner, and of course, James Townsend and Josh Slatten. Their insights, camaraderie, and shared passion have made this experience unforgettable.

It also feels like righting a wrong. For too long, Joe was dismissed as unimportant, even by a Colorado reporter who once asked, “Who cares?” Well, we care. Hopefully, by the time you read this, we will have placed a marker for Joe. He deserves to be remembered—not just as Billy’s brother, but as Joe Antrim, a man with his own story.

Joe’s life might not have been as dramatic as Billy’s, but it was fascinating in its own way. In many respects, Joe’s story offers a glimpse into what Billy’s life might have been like if he had escaped his violent end. Joe lived, struggled, and persevered, and there’s so much more to learn about him.

Looking back, I’m still amazed at how this journey unfolded. From a passing curiosity to finding Joe’s resting place, it has been an emotional, educational, and rewarding experience. Along the way, I’ve learned not just about Joe, but also about Colorado history, medical practices of the time, and the value of relentless curiosity.

Joe’s final resting place is no longer a mystery. He rests in a historic cemetery with a stunning view of the Rockies—a fitting conclusion to a story that took nearly a century to tell. It’s a story of persistence, discovery, and, above all, remembrance. And now, Joe Antrim has the recognition he deserves.