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Every morning, after waking up and making her bed, always taking the time to smooth out all the wrinkles in the sheets with her hands, she’d walk into her mother’s bedroom.She’d wrap a robe around her mother’s shoulders, lead her to the kitchen, fix her cereal, and lay out her pills.She took off her nightshirt and put on the clothes along with some boots that were too big for her feet.
Beginning with that May 1991 trip to American Federal, she robbed lots of banks.
Then, after her mother was finished eating, Peggy Jo would gently guide her back to her bedroom, prop a pillow behind her head, set a glass of tap water and her romance novel on the side table, and walk back into her own room to get dressed.
Usually, she liked wearing khaki pants, a simple blouse, and loafers.
According to the FBI, she was one of the most unusual bank robbers of her generation, a modern-day Bonnie without a Clyde who always worked alone, never using a partner to operate as her lookout or drive her getaway car.
She was also a master of disguise, her cross-dressing outfits so carefully designed that law enforcement officials, studying bank surveillance tapes, had no idea they were chasing a woman.
She was one of those women, they believed, who had succumbed to a strange bout of middle-aged craziness. Seemingly repentant, Peggy Jo pleaded guilty to bank robbery and quietly went off to prison for almost three years. But then, this past May, the story broke that a small bank in the East Texas city of Tyler had been robbed by a sixty-year-old woman.