Billy Brito

Billy Brito

Billy Brito, writer, pilot, savvy scoundrel, and crafty ex-convict with an M.A. in Criminology, died on July 11th, 2020, at the age of 74, from complications arising due to COVID-19. 

Billy was born to Juan Brito and Guadalupe Llanos on Jan. 3rd, 1946, in Brownsville, Texas. As the 4th of 12 children, Billy was very close to his grandmother and had a complicated relationship with his parents. He was also very close to his siblings, particularly his 3 older brothers. He looked up to them, valued their advice, and served as the best man for two of them. He was a very generous and protective brother to his 8 younger siblings as well as a loyal friend who forged friendships in his youth so strong, they endured the tumultuous decades to come. He looked out for his friends and kin when they were in need and they exposed the sentimental streak he never could quite shake. The last message he sent to one of his sisters, prior to being hospitalized, explained how he thought it was better that he got infected, rather than either of his three older brothers, because he had less pre-existing medical issues. He was a man whose unique perspective had been molded by a rambunctious youth and the several decades of introspection and writing, during a self-sufficient ‘sabbatical’ of sorts, that had followed. 

According to Billy, the circumstances of his life had made him “Destined For Troubleâ€. 

In his youth, he was a troublemaker with a knack for causing a ruckus. He struggled in school, especially with his literacy, and was teased about it. Despite his aversion to school, he was very intelligent. He played chess with his father — a seasoned and studied player — and could beat him at a young age playing solely with his intuition. Either school didn’t take to Billy or Billy didn’t take to school, at least not right away. What emerged was a rebel with a temper and a devil-may-care attitude who engaged in a milieu of mischief and misdeeds. Billy was good with his fists and his fingers, a champion typist and a formidable fighter. Standing at a whopping 5’5â€, many were felled by his boxing punches, jiu-jitsu moves, or arsenal of dirty tricks. 

And tricks abounded; for Billy was a prolific schemer. Those that knew him well understood how methodical and calculating he was about everything. Even the most mundane aspects of life were subjected to the meticulous cost-benefit, risk-reward scrutiny he applied in a chess game. He was clever and he relished the plotting, anticipating, searching for angles so as to shift those paradigms of his life which he disliked. Whether it was a scheme to skip class, make a quick buck, or build up his record collection, wily Billy had plans within plans.†Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunityâ€, one of his brothers once told him, and Billy had an aversion to making an ass out of himself if it did. 

Billy also had an aversion to suffering fools and being told what to do. Depending on where you were standing, he could be portrayed as cheeky, downright insolent, or a maverick who enjoyed antagonizing authority. He enjoyed sticking it to the proverbial man. He was not fond of tolerating stupid bosses, boring jobs, or bullshit from anyone which is one reason he occasionally had to resort to hustling pool, among other methods, to pay for rent or beer money. Intent on avoiding the plight of the proletariat, the casual Marxist valued his autonomy above all else. “Life is supposed to be enjoyed,†he once wrote “I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend mine workingâ€. The freedom to make decisions for himself was paramount to Billy. Responding to the moral ambiguity of a chaotic “dog-eat-dog†world, the self-described ‘non-conformist fool’ lived by his own code and refused anyone else to define right and wrong for him. The fruits of this autonomy was a fastlane life chock-full of close calls and crazy stories — some involving working with the CIA. 

Upon opening Billy’s desk drawer, one could find a stack of no-frills, minimalist business cards: Arthur William “Billy†Brito, Flight Instructor – Criminologist. He was an accomplished aviator with the prowess to fly a Hawker 125-700 and land a single propeller Cessna onto a caliche airstrip in a jungle. Next to his toilet you would find a pair of glasses and a 40-year-old copy of the Pilot’s Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge, heavily annotated several times over and barely held together by scotch tape. 

He was a late blooming student who claims to have gotten through high school exclusively through cheating and hadn’t read a book cover-to-cover until he was drafted into the army during Vietnam at the age of 21. The book? A manual with the U.S. Army’s Rules and Regulations. The goal? Understand the system well enough to expedite his 2 year “sentence†in the army (which he did… and still considered it 1 year 10 months 2 days too many) as well as his promotions (he made sergeant in record time… as a clerk). He finished college after a 3-year stint “Caged In A Human Zoo†during which he became a vociferous reader. A few years later, he proceeded to obtain a master’s in Criminology, which he probably got a kick out of considering his concurrent activities. Given a different set of circumstances, Billy’s intelligence could have been used for so many other things. 

For the majority of the latter half of his life, Billy dedicated himself to writing his autobiography. For 30 years he wrote, researched, pedantically proofread his work over and over and over. If one were to have asked Billy why he spent so much time writing a series of books detailing his escapades, you might think it was because he wanted to explain why he was the way he was. Perhaps he wanted to leave behind a legacy or maybe he just felt he had a story worth telling. Invariably, however, Billy would answer with something like: “Money. Money, money, making loads of money†

Billy spent his final years in his hometown as an aspiring author, living in his family’s home, working from his father’s desk — or a Whataburger booth — putting the ever-lasting “final touches†on the latest version of one of his books, still scheming and making moves to publish his story. 

Brazenly clashing with his brash, volatile youth, the old scoundrel had been humbled by age and introspection. He was considerate, calm, good-humored, and kind. He was particularly quite fond of engaging in wide-ranging, long-winded conversations with anyone about anything whether it be Criminal Justice and Determinism (his two favorites), how to get the most power with your golf swing, or the optimal placement of an A/C unit. Arguing with Billy was like wrestling a pig in the mud; halfway through you discover he enjoyed it. Willing to argue in circles for hours, conceding nothing, ever determined to have the last word, only to end it with a good-natured smile, and his trademark wink and wave. 

He was cherished by the family and friends of his youth with whom he was only recently reunited with. Those he left behind are heartbroken for losing someone so special who had just come back. A man who still had so many more crazy stories to tell, good times to share, bluntly honest advice to give, and antiquated arguments about free will to drive one of his nephews crazy. Billy was predeceased by his father. He leaves behind his mother, his 11 siblings, a sprawling web of nieces and nephews, and his loving companion, Adrian S. Merrell. 

Billy Brito, writer, pilot, scoundrel, crafty ex-con, died on 7/11 and he probably would have gotten a kick out of that. 

9 Comments

  • Chayo Cruz Posted August 12, 2020 8:22 pm

    Billy sounds like a colorful soul. He was blessed to have had such a beautiful family. May he rest in peace.

  • Meg Brito Posted August 12, 2020 9:21 pm

    Rest In Peace! You were one of a kind!

  • Linda Johnston Posted August 12, 2020 10:41 pm

    My sympathy to Billy’s family. I knew Billy from childhood and this writing pretty well describes his youth as I remember it. For all of his mischief and misdeeds, he was a likable youngster in school. Back then classes were decided by academic ability and in spite of his problems, he was in the high group. A year or two ago he came into our business and he and I had long visits two or three different times. The discussions were enjoyable and he told me about his books. I know he will be missed by many.
    Linda Johnston

  • Adrienne Merrell Posted August 12, 2020 11:28 pm

    My Babe. I miss you every minute.

  • Joe Lee Rubio Posted August 13, 2020 12:24 am

    It was so nice to see him back in the neighborhood. Never got enough time to rehash growing up as neighbors. Would love to read his books….gonna miss him again.

  • Adrienne Merrell Posted August 18, 2020 12:58 am

    I miss you, Babe. It wasn’t long enough, but I’m glad we got to share the last four years together. You will always be in my heart, but you know that.

  • Adrienne Merrell Posted August 28, 2020 1:55 pm

    For the past four years , since reuniting and deciding to share our lives ,we have been “joined at the hip.” We very seldom spent any time apart. The things we enjoyed were driving around Brownsville remembering the “old days “ and discussing which of our friends lived where, going to Dairy Queen every day where he would bellow into the speaker ,”TWO KID CONES”, and working on his books, editing and arguing relentlessly about who was right. We enjoyed meeting with our friends and attending class reunions and local fiestas. Most nights, we walked around the neighborhood and he would tell me stories of his escapades. Sometimes he’d try to explain to me how an airplane stays in the air , how to brick a house, or how to fix plumbing, Its hard to believe you’re really gone, Billy. I miss you Babe, and your flirty, crooked smile. I have to watch “Jeopardy” and “The Virginian“ alone.

  • Adrienne Merrell Posted June 21, 2021 8:54 pm

    One day you called and said that you had picked a song to be “ our song.” You picked “ I Will Aways LoveYou” by Whitney Houston as our forever song…and it’s true.

  • Jack Lee Posted August 2, 2021 9:00 pm

    Oh Billy!
    I happened to be thinking of you and thought I’d look you up. Last I saw you was Matamoros with Jim Skelton. Thank you again for dinner. Bet you’re showing those angels how real flying is done!
    You take care of yourself, and we’ll have a drink when I make it to the other side. Say hello to Jim for me, will ya?

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