Tides of Time: The Old Pender County Jail and a Family’s Legacy of Kindness

BURGAW, NC (WWAY) — As Thanksgiving approaches, many families will gather around the table, grateful for family, friends and the comfort of home.

But sometimes, the smallest acts of kindness leave the biggest impact.

In this month’s Tides of Time, we visit the Old Pender County Jail in Burgaw and remember one family who opened their home — and their dinner table — to the people locked up just upstairs.

For Lynwood Meadows, that was simply part of growing up.

His family moved into the first floor of the Pender County Jail in December 1962. His father, Raymond, served as the jailer, while his mother, Vallie, worked as the matron and prepared meals for inmates.

Meadows remembers how his parents treated the people behind bars.

“We would invite them to the dinner table, they would have dinner with us at the table and we’d bring them back up and lock them back up,” he said.

His father’s responsibilities also extended beyond the jail.

“Dad dispatched the rescue squad, fire department, the police, sheriff’s department and the highway patrol,” Meadow said.

Built in 1924, the jail held people serving time for their crimes. But the Meadows family also made it a place where inmates were treated with kindness and dignity.

Meadows remembers some unusual moments, too.

“We had one inmate that was from the circus and he would shoot fire at you. He would put lighter fluid in his mouth and shoot fire at you,” and Meadows added, “One time the wind draft was the wrong way and it burned all of the hair on his head.”

Not every memory, however, came with a chuckle.

For Donna McKoy Murphrey, one night in 1975 became a frightening ordeal when her father, Deputy Tim McKoy, was taken hostage inside the jail.

Murphrey was just 12 years old when she heard the news.

“So, we kinda perked our ears up because they said daddy’s call number and then whoever was on the radio that night lost all protocol and said, ‘They’ve got Tim! They’ve got Tim held hostage at the jail!”

Her father had returned to the jail after taking an inmate to what was then known as Pender Memorial Hospital. Three inmates overpowered him, beat him with metal bars and took his gun.

Wayne Briley, a young state ABC officer at the time, remembers hearing the call for help.

“I didn’t know how it was going to play out,” he recalled.

As the situation unfolded, Briley remembers the courthouse square filling with people — including civilians with high-powered rifles.

“I don’t know how many people behind the big oak trees on the courthouse square, people on the community building with high-powered rifles with scopes, civilians, not law enforcement. Today, an area like this would be completely sealed off and nobody would be even close to here but it was people everywhere,” Briley said.

One of the inmates, Freddy Kea, fired McKoy’s weapon.

Briley remembers the sound.

“When it went off, it sounded like a canon because like I said earlier, it was Tim’s weapon, a .357 Magnum and they’re loud anyway.”

Kea surrendered a few hours later. Briley was relieved the situation ended without more serious injuries.

“I was very excited that everything turned out the way it did,” he said. “Nobody got hurt except a little be with Tim.”

Murphrey remembers her father as a kind and fair-minded man, even toward the people he locked up.

“I just remember thinking, my dad was very kind and he was even very kind to the people that he locked up. I mean he was a very fair-minded person. I just remember feeling so bad that someone had hurt him because I thought he didn’t deserve that.”

Retired Superior Court Judge and defense attorney Gary Trawick also remembers representing inmates at the old jail.

He recalls three Marines who deliberately got into trouble because they wanted a sentence that would lead to a less-than-honorable discharge and allow them to avoid serving in Vietnam.

“They broke into the place on purpose to get a sentence that would give them a less than honorable discharge so they would not have to go to Vietnam.”

Trawick also remembers another client charged with armed robbery and the intimidating experience of entering a jail cell to meet him.

“They brought me up here, unlocked the door. I looked in there, I think his shoulders were that wide. He was at least that thick,” he said. “The minute I went in there, they slammed that door. It seemed like the loudest noise I had ever heard.”

When a new jail opened in the late 1970s, the old building’s role changed. But for Meadows, its most important legacy isn’t about the bars, the cells or the people who were locked up.

It’s about the people who cared for them — especially his parents.

“Mom and dad were really nice people,” he said.

Meadows says his mother went beyond what was required to make sure inmates had something to eat.

“She fed them breakfast and lunch. She was not required to feed them dinner. However, she would always bring them something to eat for dinner which she did not get paid for.”

The Old Pender County Jail holds more than a century of history. But through the memories of those who lived and worked there, it also tells a story about compassion.

For the Meadows family, kindness didn’t stop at the jailhouse door. Even behind bars, they believed every person deserved dignity — and a place at the table.