Cold Case Files: Pre-dawn killer of Craig County couple in Welch has eluded authorities for almost two decades

In the quiet predawn hours of a crisp November Sunday in 2008, the rolling farmlands of Craig County harbored a horror that shattered the serenity of small-town life. At 7850 S. 4390 Road, a modest farmhouse north of Welch stood silent as William Albert "Bill" Huls, 67, settled into his wheelchair at the kitchen table for breakfast. His wife of over 40 years, Leota Loy Huls, 66, moved about the living room nearby.

They were creatures of habit--devout Church of Christ members, early risers, and pillars of humility in their rural community. But between 6:00 AM and 7:00 AM on November 9, an intruder entered their unlocked home without resistance, firing a single shot into each of their heads. Bill slumped forward, his meal unfinished; Leota crumpled to the floor. No screams, no struggle--just two lives extinguished in an act that has baffled investigators for nearly 18 years.

The Hulses were the epitome of unassuming Midwestern decency. Born in 1941, Bill had spent decades as a self-employed mechanic, tinkering with engines on their farm until a botched surgery left him wheelchair-bound and cognitively impaired. Homebound in his final years, he relied on Leota, a retired nurse born in 1942, who had dedicated her career to caring for others in local clinics.

Praised for her devotion, Leota managed the farm's daily chores while tending to her husband. The couple, married since the mid-1960s, raised at least one daughter and lived reclusively, their days anchored by faith and routine.

That Sunday, alarm bells rang when the couple missed church services—a rare occurrence. A farm employee, concerned by their absence, drove to the property and entered the unlocked door. The scene was chilling: Bill at the table, head down as if in prayer; Leota on the floor, lifeless. The employee called authorities, and the Craig County Sheriff's Office arrived to a home untouched by chaos--no forced entry, no ransacking.

Autopsies confirmed homicide by gunshot, likely from the family's own Smith & Wesson SW9F 9mm pistol (serial #PAE4149), which vanished along with Leota's purse. Nothing else was taken, fueling theories of a staged robbery by someone familiar to the victims.

The Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation (OSBI) took over, canvassing the tri-state area--northeastern Oklahoma, southeastern Kansas, and southwestern Missouri--for leads.

Fingerprints and DNA were collected, but no matches emerged. The rural isolation worked against them: few witnesses, no surveillance, and a community tight-lipped amid regional drug woes.

Speculation swirled-- a disgruntled acquaintance? A drifter?

Years ticked by without breakthroughs. In 2012, a $10,000 reward was offered; by 2024, it stood at $5,000 for tips leading to arrest or conviction.

The Cold Case Unit, led by agents like Ferrari, pins hopes on the missing gun: "If we track it dow--bought, sold, or traded around 2008--we'll be closer to the killer," Ferrari told KJRH in 2025.

Annual appeals persist, with the case featured in OSBI's prison-distributed Cold Case Playing Cards in 2021. DNA re-testing in 2023 yielded nothing new.

The Hulses were laid to rest on November 14, 2008, in a joint funeral at Paul Thomas Funeral Home in Miami, Oklahoma, officiated by family friend and retired preacher Bobby Key. Over 100 mourners gathered to honor their quiet legacy.

They now lie side by side in Welch Cemetery, a modest graveyard dotted with prairie windswept stones--William's memorial etched with his birthdate, a testament to lives cut short.

As Welch slumbers on, the Huls case lingers like a shadow over the fields. Tips to OSBI (tips@osbi.ok.gov or 1-800-522-8017) could finally bring closure. In a world of forgotten files, this one whispers: Who interrupted breakfast that fateful morning, and why?