J.B. Brassell, one of the Lee and Russell County representatives "diselected" by the Phenix City machine, was also in Montgomery on Friday. He went to the governor's office and insisted that raids be made on Phenix City that night to support his voting-fraud case before the state Democratic Executive Committee. The visit prompted a call from the capitol to Albert Fuller in Phenix City informing him that a political figure was in the governor's office demanding raids. The caller failed to identify the political figure, and Fuller, assuming it was Albert Patterson, spread the word around. A raid would have meant even more sensational newspaper headlines at a time when the underworld was suffering under two galling investigations.
In the course of telephoning around the state, Garrett hastily developed an alibi by improvising a dinner party in his hotel room. Hurriedly he gathered a number of guests from the hotel lobby, mainly young men who had gone to law school together at Alabama, and ordered drinks and steaks for everyone as he continued to work the phone. Meanwhile, Ferrell telephoned Garrett at the hotel and Frank Long, a confidant of Garrett, answered, handing the receiver to Garrett. They talked, and soon afterward, Albert Fuller, aware that his would-be assassins had pawned the stolen weapon, hurried off to the Bridge Grocery and got the .38 pistol out of hock. A little after nine, Garret called the courthouse again and was told by Ferrell and Fuller that Albert Patterson was alone in his office, the light clearly visible less than a block away. With Garrett holding the line and the dinner party in full swing, the stage was set for Patterson's murder.
Fuller and Ferrell made one last attempt to reason with the unwavering Patterson, before acting on their fears and silencing him for good. Albert Fuller met Patterson as he was leaving his office and attempted to talk him out of testifying before the Birmingham grand jury, making a final offer of thirty thousand dollars for his silence. The two men were arguing as Patterson, cane in hand, limped toward his car parked in the nearby alley, where Arch Ferrell, Patterson's bitter enemy, lurked in the shadows of the building.
A block away at the county courthouse, Quinnie Kelley, a janitor, was sitting on the east steps of the building in the humid summer air. A little after nine o'clock he had watched Ferrell leave the courthouse and walk up the street toward the Coulter Building. Minutes later, he heard shots and the sound of a car accelerating loudly, its tires squealing down Fourteenth Street. Looking up he saw a man running toward the courthouse, his head back and his arms churning the hot, night air. It was Arch Ferrell.