It was death for Clyde and Bonnie. Their bodies were so mutilated by high-velocity bullets that a coroner in nearby Arcadia didn’t even bother to count the holes. The autopsy pictures are easily accessible on the Internet: two scrawny bodies (“That little pipsqueak was Clyde Barrow?” a viewer asked) literally torn to shreds, frosted with blood, faces pathetically slack, eyes resolved into coin slots. And so Clyde and Bonnie entered history.
Or did they?
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