The Central Hotel was placed at the disposal of Tolliver by its owner; the former leased it to Bunk Mannin and his brother, Jim Mannin. These two were Craig Tolliver's constant associates. He had brought them from Elliott County. Knowing their reputation as desperadoes, he created them his body-guard. Bunk Mannin, bloodthirsty, brutal, but courageous, believed he could serve his chieftain best by capturing the office of town marshal. He set himself up as candidate and was elected without a whisper of opposition. As town marshal and hotel keeper, he opened a saloon at the Central Hotel, operating it in the manner of the one run by Craig Tolliver, in violation of the law. Bud Tolliver was made a member of the town council. Craig Tolliver's triumph was now complete. The midnight carousals, the continuous discharges of Winchester rifles and pistols, made night hideous. Persons of unquestionable courage grew nervous. At this period the exodus of the inhabitants was greatest. Social functions were out of the question. Adjutant-General Hill says in his report to the Governor, after the final battle of July, 1887: "One night while I was there the young people of Morehead had a social at the home of a prominent citizen, and I was told that it was the _first event of the kind which had occurred in the little town for years_." The Tollivers controlled the court and the grand juries. A witness daring enough to indict them for their many offences was certain to be indicted for some imaginary offense in return for his audacity. Thus during one court, shortly after the "shooting up" of the Carey House, two daughters of Howard Logan testified before the grand jury and indicted one Dr. Wilson for participating in the riot. The same evening the grand jury returned indictments against the two young ladies for "false swearing." The secrets of the grand jury leaked constantly. Every word of testimony uttered before it was promptly and minutely reported to the Tollivers. Mrs. Martin, who had been a witness against them on several charges, was indicted for sending a poisoned turkey to a Tolliver sympathizer. Is it a wonder that Attorney-General Hardin stigmatized the whole machinery of justice in the county as "rotten"? Is it a wonder that crime was rampant and of daily occurrence? Is it a wonder that outraged manhood at last took the law in its own hand and annihilated the outlaws? Sometime in the latter part of 1886, or early part of 1887, H. M. Keeton, constable of Morehead precinct, was shot and killed by Bud Tolliver. Keeton, too, had been duly served with notice of the date of his funeral. Remaining in the county, he furnished the body. W. N. Wicher was shot and killed by John Trumbo, a Tolliver man.