In 1984, three years before becoming Kentucky’s 57th governor, businessman Wallace Wilkinson was kidnapped—or not. It was an incident shrouded in mystery. Other than Wilkinson, the only person who knew the truth of the alleged kidnapping was his longtime business partner—and purported kidnapper. But before the alleged kidnapper could be vindicated or convicted, he was dead.
New information uncovered by Kentucky Monthly sheds light on the story, a complex tale that includes private investigators, mysterious Italian businessmen, Republicans, Democrats and ladies of the evening.
On Tuesday afternoon, April 10, 1984, Jerome Jernigan stopped by Wilkinson’s Lexington office to discuss business. Since 1977, the two had been partners in a wood-veneer business known as Jernigan Export Timber Inc.
Although Wilkinson and Jernigan were 50-50 partners, Jernigan and his wife, Rose, ran the day-to-day operations of the business. Along the way, one of Jernigan’s customers had made it known that he was acquainted with a group of wealthy Italian businessmen who wanted to invest money in the United States, primarily in farmland.
Wilkinson and Jernigan reached an agreement that Wilkinson would work with the Italian businessmen, and the two would share equally from any profits involving land investments. As far as Jernigan was concerned, however, there were profits, but none were shared with him.
By 1980, the wood business had fallen on hard times, and Jernigan Export Timber was forced to close. According to Wilkinson, that was the beginning of regular visits from Jernigan, who demanded money that he claimed he was owed for several business dealings.
But this particular day in 1984 was different, Wilkinson alleged. Instead of arguing, Jernigan handed Wilkinson a four-page suicide note as he pulled a pistol from his jacket and said, “I’m going to kill you first.”
Wilkinson was forced at gunpoint to drive from his Lexington office to the Capital Plaza Hotel in Frankfort, a property owned by Wilkinson, a multimillionaire from Casey County. There, they spent the night.
That night, Wilkinson was ordered to phone James Aldridge, president of New Farmers National Bank in Glasgow.
Wilkinson, who dropped out of college in 1962 and with his wife, Martha, made much of his fortune selling used college textbooks throughout the country, was part owner of the bank. He told Aldridge he was in a jam and needed Aldridge to withdraw $500,000 from the bank and meet him early the next morning at the Glasgow airport.
The following morning, Wilkinson and Jernigan drove to Wilkinson Flying Service, another business owned by the future governor. Jernigan threatened to kill the employees if Wilkinson alerted any of them to what was going on, other than a pilot flying two men to Glasgow. One of Wilkinson’s pilots flew the pair to the city.
As requested, Aldridge was at the Glasgow airport when the plane touched down. He handed Jernigan a bag with $500,000 cash, along with the keys to his 1983 Lincoln. Wilkinson, an emotional mess, was released unharmed, and Jernigan left to return to Lexington.
The FBI was contacted, and before the day was out, Jernigan was arrested. According to a police report, in his possession were $400,000, two pistols and six pairs of handcuffs.
Jerome Jernigan provided a story that differed from Wilkinson’s.
He told authorities that the two of them indeed spent the night trying to reach a business agreement on their financial differences. Jernigan said they settled on a $500,000 cash payment to be used to finance another wood-veneer business. Wilkinson was to provide him with a furnished apartment in Lexington, a car and $5,000 a month.
Jernigan told the FBI that after he received the money in Glasgow, the future governor changed his story, and instead of an agreed-upon business deal, Wilkinson portrayed it as a crime.
The entire $500,000 soon was recovered, and state charges against Jernigan, consisting of kidnapping and carrying a concealed deadly weapon, were dismissed so federal extortion charges could be filed.
After being ordered to undergo a mental evaluation, Jernigan was found competent to stand trial. In late May, a little over a month after the alleged kidnapping, he was released on a $25,000 bond.
By then, Jernigan had filed suit against Wilkinson, asking for $50 million in punitive damages and for the profits to be determined in his and Wilkinson’s wood-veneer business, which also involved the group of Italian businessmen who wanted in on the action.
At one time, Jernigan and his wife had lived in a fashionable section of Lexington. As his business and personal life began a downward spiral, he started living in various hotels throughout the city. One of those was the Continental Inn, which once stood near Winchester and New Circle roads. That’s where, on July 18, 1984, he was found dead in room 418. An autopsy revealed that 54-year-old Jernigan had died from heart disease. Lexington police ruled out foul play.
After receiving the death certificate, U.S. Attorney Ron Meredith dismissed the charges against Jernigan.
Many of the central characters in this fit-for-TV saga are deceased, but one person who was close to what happened 35 years ago lives in Jeffersonville, Indiana. When reached by Kentucky Monthly, Verna Aldridge, James Aldridge’s wife, said she would never forget the events that involved her husband during those two days in 1984.
“A friend and I drove to Louisville [from Glasgow] to shop for some Derby outfits, and when I got home that night around 8 p.m., Jim said, ‘Sit down. I have something to tell you.’ He told me about the Jernigan man holding a gun on Wallace and wanted Jim to bring a million dollars to the airport the next morning. He told me not to call anyone.”
Fifteen minutes later, Verna called Kentucky Monthly back to say she had a different story to tell. “I don’t know why I said what I did,” she explained. “I thought about what I said, and it wasn’t right.
“I did go to Louisville with my friend, as I said on April 10, but when I got home that night, my husband asked me if I had heard the news on the radio what had happened that day.”
Her husband had gotten the desperate call from Wilkinson the night before, while she was still at the house.
“Wallace told him not to tell anyone, and he didn’t—not even me. I went to Louisville, and he went to the bank and met one of his employees, Nancy Day, to get the money. It took two people back then to open the bank’s vault. It was really bizarre. My husband said Wallace looked haggard and tired. After all these years, I’m still not sure about [Jernigan’s] death in his hotel room. I still think it was suspicious.”
Before he ran for governor, Wilkinson had become a power broker, particularly in Lexington. In the early 1980s, he announced plans to build the World Coal Center downtown. His purchase of the old Phoenix Hotel and its demolition would change the downtown landscape forever.
The proposed 41-floor skyscraper was never built, but the fact that Wilkinson was even talking about such a project gave him enough influence to reach many people.
Rose Jernigan, who had divorced Jerome before his death, felt that her deceased ex-husband was owed money from Wilkinson and continued to go to court to collect it. She had another reason for pursuing her court case. “Wallace made a lot of money through Jerome,” she said. “Jerome was preparing to go to court to have the charges dismissed and tell everything he knew about the business dealings of Wallace and the Italians.”
According to Rose, there were several people, including Wilkinson, who didn’t want anyone to hear Jerome Jernigan under oath.
Part II of “The Mystery of the Wilkinson Kidnapping” will appear in the April issue.