The Mysterious Murder.

A boatman working near the foot of Little Street in Brooklyn, on October 3, 1864, saw a package floating on the water. Thinking it might contain something of value, he took it into his boat. He unraveled the enameled oilcloth surrounding the package, and inside, covered in sheets of brown paper, was the trunk of a human body. The head, arms, pelvis, and legs had been cut off with a saw or sharp knife, as if by a butcher.  The clothing had not been removed. He took the package to the 42^nd Police Precinct.

Coroner Norris examined the trunk and believed, from the healthy-looking flesh, that the body had been living no more than six or eight hours before it was found. It had been thrown in the water so recently that a portion of the clothing was still dry.  It was a young man dressed in a fashionable style. He wore a white muslin shirt with a small, narrow pleated bosom, a white flannel undershirt, a section of coat, and a gray vest. A soft gray hat had been in the package, along with a piece of iron to weigh it down. The coroner concluded that the man had been murdered.

One week later, on October 10, a package wrapped in the same manner was found at the foot of Corlears Street in New York City. Inside was the pelvis that went with the trunk. In one of the pockets of the pants connected to the pelvis was a ring of six keys, including one fancy bureau key with a brass top. The same day, the thighs were found, twelve miles away in Gravesend Bay. On the 13^th, the legs and feet, still wearing boots and clothing, were picked up off Yellow Hook. The Common Council of Brooklyn offered a reward of $1,000 for the discovery of the murderer or murderers.

Several people who had recently missed friends and relatives called on the 42^nd Precinct to view the remains.  No one was able to recognize the man, and the authorities feared that without the head, identification would be impossible.

Finally, on October 17, the head was found, floating in the water, near Fort Hamilton. It was packaged like the other pieces, wrapped in oilcloth. Coroner Norris sent a messenger to bring the head to Brooklyn. The head was that of a handsome young man, about thirty-five years of age, with chestnut brown hair, inclined to curl, whiskers thick and short, with mustaches of a sandy color. It was perfectly matched to the other body parts.

It was certain, now, that the man had been murdered. The head had a bullet wound in the right temple and another below the right eye.  The head was in such good condition that the coroner determined that it had to have been floating for less than 14 days. A cast was made of the face, the head, and the remains were photographed, and the head was put on public display in the rotunda of the Brooklyn City Hall.  The mayors of New York and Brooklyn each offered rewards of up to $1,000 each for information on the murder. Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, a national publication, printed an engraving of the photograph in the hope that one of its readers would recognize the man.

But, there were very few serious identifications. A young man named Meechum left Lovejoy’s Hotel on September 30 and had not been seen since. No one was able to identify the head as Meechum’s.  A woman positively identified the murdered man as her missing son, but this was proven untrue. Another claimed it was her missing husband. He was a discharged soldier, and they had recently married. The next day, he got his civilian clothes and disappeared. This claim was debunked when the coroner asked for her marriage certificate showing that she was married on October 7. The first body part appeared on October 3.

By November 11, the head and other remains were so decomposed as to be beyond recognition. Coroner Norris ordered a post-mortem examination. Dr. Spiers performed the post-mortem and gave a full report to the coroner’s jury, who concluded that the man had died of a gunshot wound to the brain, on or about the 2^nd or 3^rd of October 1864. They were unable to say at whose hands the deceased received his wounds. The jury recommended increasing the rewards offered for information and expressed hope that Coroner Norris would continue his work on the case until it was successfully solved. However, following the jury’s verdict, the case was essentially closed.

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Sources: 

“The Mysterious Murder,” Evening Post, October 11, 1864.
“The Mysterious Murder,” Evening Post, November 11, 1864.
“The Mysterious Murder-,” Evening Post, October 17, 1864.
“The Body of a Murdered Man Found in the River,” New York Herald, October 4, 1864.
“Brooklyn Intelligence,” Journal of Commerce, Jr., October 26, 1864.
“Information Wanted,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, November 5, 1864.
“The Late Mysterious Murder,” Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, November 5, 1864.
“The Murder Mystery,” Press., October 19, 1864.
“The Mutilated Remains Found in the River,” Journal of Commerce, jr., October 5, 1864.
“The Mysterious Murder,” New York Herald, October 19, 1864.
“The Mysterious Murder,” Daily Times., October 19, 1864.
“The Mysterious Murder,” New-York Daily Tribune, November 15, 1864.
“The Mysterious Murder Case,” Journal of Commerce, Jr., October 18, 1864.
“New York Matters,” Newark Daily Advertiser, October 25, 1864.

For Love of His Landlady.

Benjamin and Mary Merrill lived with their four-year-old son on Illinois Street in Chicago, where they ran a boarding house. During the day, Benjamin worked as a broker, and Mary took care of the house along with their chambermaid, Hattie Berk.

In May 1888, 22-year-old Andrew J. Martin took residence in the Merrills’ boarding house. He worked nights as a stationary engineer for the Union Steamboat Company. During the day, he lounged around the house, trying to ingratiate himself with Mrs. Merrill. 33-year-old Mary Merril, a tall, attractive brunette, was pleasant toward Martin, but was happily married and had no interest in his advances.

By December 1888, Martin was desperately in love and would not leave Mary alone. When other boarders began commenting on Martin’s behavior, Hattie Berk took their concerns to Mary.

Martin learned of this and on December 10, he approached Mary, who was sitting in the parlor, and tried to persuade her to discharge Hattie. He told her that Hattie was a loose character and would bring disgrace upon the house. Mary turned on him and said it was time for him to attend to his own business and leave the affairs of the house alone.  She did not care to have any more of his interference in her business and hoped he would leave the house as soon as he could find another place to live.

“Do you mean that?” Martin asked.

“I certainly do, Mr. Martin,” said Mary, “It will be best all around if you do.”

Martin said no more; he got up and left the house. Mary went upstairs to the room where Hattie was making the bed.

“Hattie, don’t you think I have a right to mind my own business?” said Mary, perhaps feeling guilty about being so harsh with Martin.

“Why certainly,” said Hattie, and they discussed Martin’s disruptive behavior.

Martin came back into the house and quietly climbed the stairs. He stood for a moment outside the room and overheard their conversation. Then he entered the room, and “affecting a devilish suavity,” he drew a pistol from his pocket.

“Who are you gabbing about now?” he said. Then he raised the pistol and fired at Hattie, who was sitting on the bed. The shot missed, and with a terrified shriek, she bounded off the bed and out the door. Martin pointed the pistol at Mary and fired twice, hitting her in the abdomen and in the jaw. Outside the room, Hattie turned and watched as Martin raised the pistol to his right temple and blew out his brains.

Hattie fled downstairs, picked up the Merrills’ son, and ran into the street screaming. She drew the attention of a policeman, who followed her back to the house. The upstairs room was a revolting sight. Martin lay dead, face up on the floor. Mary, lying in a pool of blood, was still alive. Conscious, but unable to speak, she lay that way for three hours before dying.

When Benjamin Merrill heard the news of his wife’s murder, he became hysterical and rushed home from work. Though he knew the killer was dead as well, he screamed, “Let me at him. He should be drawn and quartered.”

Later, he spoke more calmly:

No husband ever loved a wife more than I did mine. She was so sympathetic, and glorified in my success, and sympathized in my failures. She was all that a wife could be, true as steel and pure as a virgin.

Martin was a boy, a country lad. He was a good-hearted fellow, too, and often took our little boy to plays. Of course, he loved my wife. Who could blame him for loving her? But I was not jealous, for she told me everything and only looked on him as I did, as a good-natured country boy.

Benjamin was not well enough to testify at the coroner’s inquest the following day. Hattie Berk, the
eyewitness, told the whole story on the stand. The jury came to the only conclusion possible: that Andrew Martin committed suicide after shooting Mary Merrill twice.

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Sources: 

“Andrew J Martin,” National Police Gazette, December 29, 1888.
“Double Tragedy in Chicago,” The Philadelphia Inquirer, December 11, 1888.
“Faithful to the Last,” Evening Post, December 11, 1888.
“For Love of His Landlady,” News and Courier, December 11, 1888.
“The Martin Merrill Tragedy,” Chicago Daily News, December 11, 1888.
“Martin's Awful Crime,” Chicago Daily News, December 11, 1888.
“The Merrill Martin Murder,” Daily Inter Ocean, December 12, 1888.
“Sensational Double Tragedy,” Indianapolis Journal., December 11, 1888.
 

The Acquital of Joseph A. Blair.

Joseph Blair of Montclair, New Jersey, had a vicious argument with his coachman, John Armstrong, on June 26, 1879. Blair was angry that someone had seen his wagon in front of a beer saloon, and he went to the stable to confront Armstrong. Armstrong said it was none of Blair’s business where he went. As the argument grew belligerent, Armstrong told Blair that if he came into the stable again, he would blow his brains out. Blair was heard to respond, “When a man tells me he will shoot, I can be the first to shoot.”

Later that night, Blair returned to the stable with a pistol in his pocket. They argued again, and Blair followed Armstrong when he went up to his room above the stable. Two minutes later, a gunshot was heard, and Armstrong was dead.

A coroner’s jury charged Blair with manslaughter. However, after 2,000 workingmen held a rally protesting the light charge against Blair for killing one of their peers, the prosecution, led by the New Jersey Attorney General, raised the charge to first-degree murder.

Joseph Blair’s trial lasted seventeen days, with three days of impassioned closing arguments for and against his conviction of first-degree murder.  When the jury returned a verdict of not guilty, Blair appeared utterly dazed for a moment, then fell over the pile of law books on the table and sobbed loudly.

Read the full story here: The Murdered Coachman.

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Illustration from Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, November 8, 1879.

Life, Crimes, and Conviction of Lydia Sherman.

When the press learned that Lydia Sherman had poisoned three husbands and eight children, they called her “The Arch Murderess of Connecticut,” “The Modern Borgia,” and “The Poison Fiend.”

Read the full story here: The Poison Fiend.

The Harris-Burroughs Affair.

 

A young woman entered the Treasury Building in Washington, D.C. on the afternoon of January 30, 1865. She went to the office of the Comptroller of the Currency and opened the door just enough to peek in and see the clerks at work. After locating the man she sought, she closed the door and waited in the hall for his workday to end.

The man, A.J. Burroughs (Adoniram Judson, sometimes reported as Andrew Jackson), left the office at 4:00. He hadn’t gone more than three feet when he heard the crack of a pistol. Realizing that he had been shot, he turned around to see the female form standing in the hall. “Oh!” he exclaimed and hurried toward the stairway. A second shot rang out, and he fell to the floor. His comrades, thinking he had fainted, rushed to his aid. They conveyed him to a room nearby where he died fifteen minutes later.

Was Abbott Innocent?

Illustrated Police News, February 28, 1885.

Joseph Crue returned from work to his home in Groton, Massachusetts, on January 18, 1880, and found his wife, Maria, lying dead in the bedroom.  She had been shot three times in the face, and the Medical Examiner determined that she had been raped.

A tramp was seen in the neighborhood that day looking for work. A neighbor of the Crues, Jennie Carr, identified the tramp as Stearns K. Abbott from a police photograph. Abbott had recently been released from New Hampshire State Prison, where he had served time for larceny. He had also served prison time in Massachusetts and Connecticut. Abbott had already left town, so the police circulated his photograph among New England police departments. Ten days later, Abbott was arrested in East Weare, New Hampshire.

Abbott was convicted of murder and sentenced to hang, but there was lingering doubt as to his guilt. In February 1885, Chief Wade of the State District Police said:

I never thought Abbot Killed that woman. Why, there was a whole hour of her husband’s time that was unaccounted for, and that length of time was sufficient for him to commit the deed in. It was the old story, though, of giving a dog a bad name and everybody will kick it. Abbott had a bad reputation and no friends to look out for his interests. That Jennie Carr that swore so strongly in the case knew a good deal more than she swore to. She didn’t care to tell all she knew. I have no doubt that the truth will come out in this case and that it will be at last cleared up. Stearns Kendall Abbott is an innocent man, so far as the murder of Mrs. Crue is concerned. 

The truth never did come out, but public pressure led the state governor to commute Abbott's sentence to life in prison. Abbott served thirty years of his sentence before being pardoned in 1911. He never wavered in his assertion of innocence. 

Read the full story here: The Groton Tragedy.

The Prince Street Murder.

 

Bertha Levy entered the house at 111 Prince Street, Manhattan, just before 10:00 a.m. on January 18, 1880. She was a hairdresser, and she had an appointment with Annie Downey, who lived on the second floor. No one responded to her knocks, and the door was locked. The owner of the house did not have a key to the room. Fearing the worst, they summoned the police; the Eighth Precinct Station House was less than a block away.

Officer Sweeny and Sergeant McNally broke the door open and found Annie Downey’s lifeless body lying prostrate on the blood-soaked bed. A pillowcase was tightly bound around her throat. Her left arm was bent, and her fingers were clutching the pillowcase. Ugly gashes on her forehead and bruises marred her face.

Some Very Cold Cases.

In 2014, Murder by Gaslight posted Unsolved, a collection of 19^th-century murders that had never been fully explained. The list included some famous cases, including the murders of Andrew and Abby Borden, Carrie Brown, Benjamin Nathan, as well as several other homicides that were never prosecuted.

Since then, Murder by Gaslight has posted many more murder cases that were never solved. Either the evidence was too thin to charge the prime suspect, or the entire case was shrouded in mystery. Here are a few of Murder by Gaslight’s very cold cases:

	The Assassination of Corlis. On March 20, 1843, Charles G. Corlis was shot outside of the bowling saloon he owned in New York City. Witnesses saw someone running from the scene—maybe a man, maybe a woman, maybe a man dressed as a woman. Suspicion fell on Henry Colton because Corlis was having an affair with his wife, Hannah. The police arrested both Coltons, but Henry had an alibi, and no one could say conclusively that the woman in question was Hannah. The Coltons were released from custody, and no one was ever charged with the murder.
	A Shrewd Rascal. Samuel Smith and his wife Emma appeared to the world as a happy and affectionate young couple. She was pretty and vivacious with a dazzling wardrobe, and he was energetic with a winning personality. But beneath the surface was a hidden turmoil that did not come to light until 1885, when Emma was found dead in their Chicago apartment, her head blown apart by a shotgun blast. Samuel Smith was the prime suspect, but he left Chicago and was never seen again.
	The Snell Murder. In the wee hours of February 8, 1888, burglars broke into the mansion of Amos J. Snell, one of the wealthiest men in Chicago. They went straight to Snell’s office and opened his safe and a strong box, but when they did not find the fortune they expected, they went upstairs and began gathering silver items. Snell heard them in the parlor and fired his pistol through the closed door. The thieves fired back, killing Snell. Despite a large reward and a massive manhunt leading to more than 1,000 arrests, no one was charged with Snell’s murder.
	The Maggie Hourigan Mystery. The body of Maggie Hourigan was found floating in a pool of water on October 20, 1889. Dr. S. Walter Scott performed a hasty autopsy and concluded she had committed suicide. No one who knew her believed that Maggie had killed herself, and a second autopsy discovered a wound on the side of her head, indicating that she was dead or unconscious when she entered the water. With no other suspects, the New York Sun implied that Dr. Scott may have come to a false conclusion to hide his own involvement in the murder. He sued the Sun for libel and received a settlement. The true circumstances of Maggie Hourigan’s death remain a mystery.
	The Mysteries of Mary Tobin. On May 12, 1889, the janitor of the Clifton Boat Club on Staten Island found the body of Mary Tobin floating in the water. The police suspected suicide. Perhaps she had been seduced and betrayed and had drowned herself to hide her shame. But the coroner found no evidence of pregnancy or abortion. He found no marks of violence and no trace of poison. Mary Tobin’s life was filled with mystery; she was engaged to be married but also contemplating joining a convent. The final mystery of Mary Tobin’s life—did she die by murder, suicide, or accident—has never been solved.
	The Stillwell Murder. Fannie Stillwell told police that around 2:00 am on December 30, 1889, she heard a disturbance and got up to find her husband, Amos, lying in a pool of blood, with a terrible gash in his head. Amos Stillwell was one of the wealthiest men in Hannibal, Missouri, and his wife was 30 years younger than he was. The police investigation was futile, but a year later, when Fannie Stillwell married her physician, Dr. Hearne, the couple became the prime suspects. Dr. Hearn was tried and found not guilty; charges against Fannie were effectively dropped as well. The people of Hannibal would remain appalled that one of their most prominent residents could be murdered without retribution.
	15 Corning Street. The strangulation of Alice Brown in her room at 15 Corning Street in Boston’s South End dominated the front page of the city’s daily newspapers in the autumn of 1897. The Boston newspapers aggressively followed clues and gathered background, hoping to scoop each other and the police in their vivid reporting of the crime. In the end, they may have been too aggressive, adding more confusion than clarity. The case was muddled with rumor and innuendo, but not enough evidence to indict anyone. It remains one of the city’s unsolved mysteries.
	The Medford Mystery. Walter R. Debbins was shot twice in the back, in broad daylight, on Highland Street in Medford, Massachusetts, on the afternoon of Saturday, March 27, 1897. Though no one saw the murder or heard the gunshots, there was enough traffic on Highland Street that afternoon for the police to precisely pinpoint the time of the shooting to between 1:00 and 1:05. But that was all they could pinpoint; everything else about the crime was shrouded in mystery that grew more dense with each new revelation. The mystery was never resolved.

A Honeymoon Tragedy.

Around 3:00, on the afternoon of June 15, 1886, a bellboy heard gunshots while responding to a prolonged ring from room 25 on the second floor of the Sturtevant House in New York City. No one answered his knocks, and the door was locked. He heard groans coming from inside and, together with the hotel carpenter, they burst into the room.

The occupants, a man and a woman, both lay on the floor, their heads upon pillows. They had both been shot but were still alive. The man was holding a revolver. George Hutty, the carpenter, was the first to approach the pair. He raised the man’s head and said, “Why have you done this?”

Views of the Fisk Assassination.

James Fisk Jr. was a robber baron, stock manipulator, and financial fraudster. In spite of this, he was a popular, much-loved public figure. On January 6, 1872, he was assassinated on the staircase of the Grand Central Hotel in New York City by his friend and sometime business partner, Edward “Ned” Stokes. Fisk and Stokes were both in love with Josie Mansfield, considered by some to be the most beautiful woman in America. 

The murder became a national sensation and was graphically illustrated many times in magazines and books.

Read the full story here: Jubilee Jim.
 

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1. Life, Adventures, Strange Career and Assassination of Col. James Fisk Jr. (Philadelphia: Barclay and Co, 1872.)
2. Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, January 20, 1872.
3. The Life of James Fisk Jr. (Philadelphia: Union Publishing Company, 1872.)
4. “The Stokes-Fisk Assassination,” Illustrated Police News, January 11, 1872.

Liquor and Free Love.

As Police Officers Henry Johnson and Eli Veazie were leaving the Chelsea, Massachusetts City Marshal’s office on the evening of February 17, 1872, they were approached by a man, intoxicated and in a state of agitation.

“I have had my revenge. I want you to go with me,” he said, “I suppose I have killed him and shall have to suffer for it.”

Parting from Her Doomed Lover.

National Police Gazette, December 29, 1888.

Franklin Asbury Hawkins murdered his mother on October 29, 1887, and dumped her body, beaten and shot, by the side of the road in Islip, Long Island. 22-year-old Hawkins was angered that his mother objected to his desire to marry Hattie Schrecht, a servant girl. Hawkins was easily convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to be hanged in December 1888.

Hattie Schrecht visited Hawkins in his jail cell the night before his execution. She blamed herself for the murder, but the weeping girl assured her doomed lover that they would meet again in heaven.

Read the full story here: The Hawkins Matricide. 

Shot Down in Court.

Police Officers Farson and Conway were patrolling the neighborhood of Orleans and Washinton Streets in Memphis, Tennessee, on the night of April 28, 1890, when they heard a cry of,” Help! Murder!” They hurried to the source and opened the door to find a woman lying on the floor with a heavy-set man over her with a death grip on her throat. They arrested the man and took him to Central Station, where they learned that they had captured Jake Ackerman, one of the most successful and dangerous criminals in the country.

Miss Tobin's Mysterious Death.

National Police Gazette, June 1, 1889.

On May 12, 1889, the janitor of the Clifton Boat Club on Staten Island found the body of a young woman floating in the water. Though badly decomposed, Dr. S.A. Robinson identified her as Mary Tobin, who had recently resigned from her job in his office. 

Mary Tobin’s life was clouded with mysteries and contradictions. She had come to Staten Island from Franklin, Pennsylvania. However, when her family learned of her death, they thought she was in Clifton, South Carolina. 

The police suspected suicide. Perhaps she had been seduced and betrayed and drowned herself to hide her shame. But the coroner found no evidence of pregnancy or abortion. He found no marks of violence and no trace of poison. 

In the two years that she lived on Staten Island, she went from being an active Methodist to an avid and very vocal atheist to a High Church Episcopalian. Her pastor said that prior to her death, Mary had consulted him about joining the Episcopal Sisters and moving to a convent. 

It was well known that Mary was engaged to be married, but none of her friends or relations knew the identity of her fiancé. At the inquest, Dr. William Bryan revealed that he was engaged to Mary. Though the date had not been set, they planned to be married.

The final mystery of Mary Tobin’s life—did she die by murder, suicide, or accident—has never been solved.

Read the full story here: The Mysteries of Mary Tobin.

The Hill's Grove Mystery.

Two days after her disappearance, search parties formed to look for any trace of Emma between Hill’s Grove and Pontiac. They focused on the river and ponds in the area, fearing that she may have fallen in and drowned. On November 14, when the search was all but abandoned, a group of searchers discovered Emma’s body in the bushes on a knoll, near the road.

An Illustrated Encyclopedia: The 1891 Murder Of Carrie Brown.

 

An Illustrated Encyclopedia: The 1891 Murder Of Carrie Brown, a new book by Howard and Nina Brown of JTRForums.com, is a comprehensive summary of the people, places, and things associated with one of New York City’s most sensational murder cases. The brutal murder of Carrie Brown shocked the people of New York and challenged their police force. Many believed that it was the work of London’s Jack the Ripper, making the investigation even more urgent. The Browns’ new book profiles all of the characters involved and views the case from all angles.

Available at Amazon.

Mary and Oscar.

 

Mary Barrows and Oscar Blaney.
Illustrated Police News, May 9, 1885,

In 1883, Mary Barrows of Kittery, Maine, persuaded her son-in-law, Oscar Blaney, to murder her husband, Thomas Barrows. Mary had been married before and had a daughter by her first husband. Thomas never got along with his stepdaughter, and he despised Oscar. He went into a rage whenever they visited because he believed Mary planned to transfer the deed of their farm to her daughter.

Mary and Oscar agreed that there would be no peace in their lives until Thomas was dead and they decided to make it happen. On November 14, 1883, Oscar ambushed Thomas near the barn, shot him three times, and fled. The shots did not kill Thomas, and he managed to crawl back to the house. Mary went to get Oscar to finish the job. Oscar shot Thomas twice more, killing him.

Mary tried to claim that Thomas had committed suicide but had trouble explaining five bullet wounds. Mary Barrows and Oscar Blaney were both convicted of murder.

Read the full story here: The Kittery Crime.

Mother and Son Murderers.

 

A driverless horse and wagon wandered aimlessly in the prairie between Fort Gibson and Tahlequah in Indian Territory on December 3, 1883. Jim Merrill heard the wagon come up to his front gate and went out to investigate. In the bed of the wagon, he found the body of Arch Casey with a large bullet hole in his left breast.

The wagon tracks were clearly visible in the dirt. They followed a meandering route, sometimes on the road, sometimes off. Then, at one point, they stuck to the road as if someone had guided the wagon to that spot and then abandoned it. The tracks led back to the house of Mrs. Mary Matoy, about a hundred yards north of the road to Tahlequah.

Mrs. Matoy was a widow who had "...born the reputation of being loose in character—a hard case—shrewd, bold and dangerous." Her son Jimmie (age reported variously 12-15) also had a bad reputation. They claimed to have no knowledge of the murder, but the Indian Police searched the house and found blood stains under a bed and a splotch of blood where the wagon had stood. The day before, Jimmie had borrowed a large-bore gun and four cartridges from a neighbor. He returned it the next morning, having shot two of the cartridges.

Captain Sam Sixkiller of the Indian Police was convinced of their guilt. He arrested them both and conveyed them to Muskogee. From there, they were taken to Fort Smith, Arkansas to await trial in the U.S. District Court.

Arch Casey was an Irishman who came to Fort Gibson in 1866 with the 19^th Regiment of the U.S. Infantry. After discharge, he remained in the district. He married a native woman and had three children. Casey was described as industrious and peaceable but sometimes drank too much. His wife died several years earlier, and he began a relationship with Mary Matoy. He lived, off and on, at her house during the last three years.

While in jail in Fort Smith, Mary Matoy had her four-year-old daughter in the cell with her. They lived that way for the next six months until her trial the following June.

Both Mary and Jimmie persistently denied all knowledge of the killing until a few days before their trial, when they acknowledged the crime but claimed self-defense. On the witness stand, Mary explained what happened:

Casey came to my house shortly after dinner time, and alighting from his wagon came in and began to abuse me. I went out in the yard. He followed and pushed me down over a pile of rocks. Jimmie ran into the house and got a gun. When he came out, Casey chased him around behind the house with an ax-handle. I then heard the gunshot, and going around there saw Casey lying on the ground. He died almost instantly. We were scared, and concluded the best thing we could do was to conceal the crime; so we dragged the body into the house, and taking the bedding from the slats laid Casey on them, and then put the bedding back on top of him. We did this to prevent anyone from seeing him who might chance to pass during the evening. After dark, we dragged the body to the wagon in the yard, and placed it in such a way as to make it appear that he had been shot in the wagon, and fallen off the seat. We then got in the wagon, taking my little girl along, and drove in a round-about way to where the team was found next morning, sometimes driving out of the road to make it appear that the team had got there without any driver. After abandoning the team we walked back home through the woods, a distance of nine miles, arriving there about daylight, carrying my little girl all the way back.

The Matoys had been charged with murder, but Mary’s explanation was enough to convince the jury to find them guilty of the lesser charge of manslaughter. The judge gave them the maximum sentence—ten years in prison and a $1,000 fine.

Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal C.M. Barnes took Mary and Jimmie, along with nine other convicts, to the House of Correction in Detroit, Michigan. Mary was not allowed to take her little daughter to prison with her. They had an emotional farewell in Arkansas before leaving. The girl was adopted by a family in Fort Smith.

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Sources:

“[Capt John A,” Cherokee Advocate, December 14, 1883.
“[Casey; Fort Gibson; Mrs,” Cherokee Advocate, December 7, 1883.
“[Matoy; Casey],” Cherokee Advocate, December 14, 1883.
“Arrested for Murder,” Rockford Daily Register., December 19, 1883.
“Capt.Hyde,” Indian chieftain., December 28, 1883.
“Mother and Child Acting as Murderers,” National Police Gazette, July 26, 1884.
“Mother And Child Take a Sad Farewell, the Former Leaving for a Prison Cell,” Daily Arkansas Gazette, July 23, 1884.
“Mother and Son Sentenced,” Fort Worth daily gazette., June 20, 1884.
“Woman Convicted of Murder,” Rockford Daily Register., June 20, 1884.

Kitty Mulcahey's Fury.

National Police Gazette, January 14, 1882.

In January 1882, Kitty Mulcahey was jailed in St. Louis for the murder of Alfred Tonkin. Kitty was a prostitute who said Tonkin had offered her two dollars and a sealskin hat if she would go with him to his room. She did not like his looks and refused the offer. Later, while walking with a man whose looks she did like, Tonkin approached them looking for trouble. The other man handed Kitty a pistol, and she shot Tonkin. 

The police and reporters were not satisfied with her story. The newsmen wanted the name of the other man and the location of the pistol, and they pressed her to implicate her pimp, Billy Scharlow. Kitty was unhappy with the way she was portrayed in the press and became increasingly annoyed by their incessant questioning. In January, she had enough, and with a fierce outburst of temper, she doused the reporters from head to foot with water from a bucket in her cell.

Before her trial, Kitty recanted her confession, and without it, there was very little evidence against her. She was found not guilty and released from custody.

Read the full story here: Kitty Mulcahey.

Zora Burns.

Illustrated Police News, Nov. 10, 1883.

Zora Burns was a beautiful and captivating young woman with “…abundant hair of yellow-golden tint clustered about features as perfectly regular as those which Phidias chiseled from the marble of Greece. Her form was grace and symmetry personified, and despite her lack of educational advantages, her natural tact and quickness of intellect atoned in great measure for her deficiencies.”  She was 19 years old in 1881 when she left her home in St. Elmo, Illinois, and took a job as a domestic servant for the family of Orrin Carpenter in Lincoln, Illinois.

Zora was unhappy and left her employer in 1883. She returned to her father’s home in St. Elmo, but on Friday, October 12, she went back to Lincoln, telling her father she was going to get $20.00 that Orrin Carpenter owed her. The following Monday, her body was found on the road outside Lincoln. Her head was bruised, and her throat had been cut from ear to ear. There was no apparent motive for the murder and no suspects.

The mystery cleared somewhat when a post-mortem examination revealed that Zora had been several months pregnant. Orrin Carpenter became the prime suspect in Zora’s murder.

Carpenter was tried for murder, but the evidence was slim and circumstantial. The jury found Carpenter not guilty, but he was convicted by the court of public opinion. 4,000 citizens of Lincoln agreed to banish Carpenter from Logan County and drove him out of town at gunpoint.

Read the full story here: The Mystery of Zora Burns