The God of Murderers

1900

In a certain mountain village on the northwest frontier of Burma, is a sacred pool, in which is said to live a nat — i.e., a demon — called Shearpanial, who is the guardian spirit of murderers.

When a murder is committed anywhere in these hills, the water of this pool is reported to turn blood red.

Now, when this happens it is a warning sign to the villagers, who are the wardens of the pool, to be on their guard lest the murderer, whoever he may be and from whatever village he may come, unobserved, succeed in reaching the pool, for the Chin law or custom is that if a murderer manages to elude the "avengers of blood" (who are usually some near blood relations of the victim) and the vigilance of the guardians of the pool and succeeds in gaining it and washes his hands in its blood red water, which, as soon as this occurs, resumes its usual appearance, testifying that the god of murder is appeased, he is absolved from his blood guiltiness and is thereafter a free man, and no one may henceforth molest him.

On the other hand, if he were overtaken by his pursuers or were he prevented by the village guardians from reaching the well be would speedily pay the penalty of his crime with his life. — London Answers.

Threw Wife Over Cliff; Hurled Dog After Her

1915

Husband Did This, Says Man Who Helped Him

Confesses They Took Mrs. Frederick T. Price to Lonely Spot, Gave Her Fling Over Embankment

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CONSIDERED SIGNIFICANT

Mrs. Frederick T. Price met her death in a mysterious manner Nov. 28, 1914, one day after she had been given $60,000 by her father.
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MINNEAPOLIS, Minn., Dec. 16. — Confessing, according to George Armstrong, county prosecutor of Hennepin County, Minnesota, that he aided Fredrick T. Price of Minneapolis in hurling Price's wife to death over a cliff, Charles D. Etchison, a traveling salesman of Washington, D. C., is in Minneapolis where he must face legal action.

Etchison was arrested in Washington by operatives of a private detective agency and was brought here. Accompanying him was Armstrong, who announced that the prisoner had confessed.

"Mrs. Price was the daughter of David B. Fridley, member of one of the oldest Minneapolis families," Etchison is reported to have said in his confession, "and the day after she got the money, she and Price and I went to a matinee. Later Price suggested an auto ride.

"She sat in the rear with her dog — Price and I in front. Price stopped the ear near a steep embankment. He muttered something about tire trouble, and asked his wife if she didn't want to get out and give the dog some exercise.

Threw Wife Over Cliff.

"As Mrs. Price stepped out, Price put one arm in front of her, and I put an arm in front and we gave a fling. Down she went. Price picked up the dog and threw it after his wife."

When they climbed down the embankment, Etchison is reported to have said, they found the woman still alive and Price struck her head with a stone.

"We told everybody that she stepped over the cliff to save her dog," the officials said Etchison confessed. "Price canceled my notes for $1,200 he held and gave me $3,500 to boot."

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"I deny it all. I swear it is not true," declared Fredrick T. Price, when told in his cell at the county jail of the confession of Charles D. Etchison, that he aided Price in the murder of the latter's wife Nov. 28, 1914. "I do not care to say anything further except to reiterate that the confession is not true."

Price was indicted by the county grand jury for bigamy and murder.

After his wife's death Price sued the city of Minneapolis for $7,500 for leaving the river bank unprotected where he said his wife had fallen over. A detective revealed that Price had been married twice before and he dismissed his suit.

Last Christmas Price married Miss Carrie Olson, a Minneapolis bookkeeper. While his wife was living, it is said, he promised Miss Olson to get a divorce. It is charged he did not get a divorce from one of his three wives.

—Saturday Blade, Chicago, Dec. 18, 1915, p. 11.

Note: Price was convicted of the murder by a jury in district court, Minneapolis, in Jan. 1916. Etchison repeated the substance of his confession from December.

The Hand Upon the Jail Wall

1896

Upon the wall of cell No. 7, in the County Jail at Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania, is the imprint of a man's hand, which would not attract attention were it not for the strange story connected with it — a story which can be vouched for by many of the town's citizens.

Alexander Campbell, of Lansford, was an occupant of the cell in June, 1877. The Mollie Maguires were holding their reign of terror throughout the coal regions at that time and he was arrested and sentenced to be hanged in connection with the murder of John P. Jones. He stoutly asserted his innocence, and it was only through the confessions of his comrades in crime that he was convicted. The night before he was hanged he stood on his cot, and, it is said, placing his hand upon the wall, he declared that in proof of his innocence the imprint would remain upon the wall forever. The impression of the hand can be as plainly seen now as if placed there yesterday, though the walls have been whitewashed often.

The phenomenon has been viewed by many, but none of them has been able to suggest a plausible solution of the mystery.

The cell is regarded with awe by the prisoners in the jail, and if any of them become unruly the warden has only to threaten them with a night in cell No. 7. — New York Herald.

By God's Judgment — Will Purvis Slipped Through the Noose

1899

And Accordingly the Man Convicted of Murder Most Cowardly is Let Free by the Executive of the Bayou State — Cannot Be Retried

A case of modern "judgment" has just been brought to the attention of many who had forgotten the strange case of Will Purvis of Mississippi, through the pardon that was granted to him a few days ago by Gov. McLaurin. Purvis figured conspicuously in the great whitecap sensation of several years ago, and his release from the penitentiary terminates a case which for sensational developments and dramatic details stands remarkable in the history of criminal jurisprudence.

In 1895 Purvis was accused of the murder of Will Buckley, a fellow whitecapper of Marion county. Buckley had fallen out with the band with which Purvis was said to have been one of the most aggressive members, and he had made open threats that he would divulge their secrets and bring them all to punishment. One of the oaths of the band prescribed to each member upon initiation was that the first man who turned traitor was to suffer death. Accordingly, a meeting was held to try Buckley, and he was condemned to die. Purvis participated at this meeting.

Shortly afterwards a second meeting was held to select the men who should execute the sentence of the band. This meeting Purvis failed to attend, whether from excess of caution, from accident or from qualms of conscience is not clear. Naturally his absence aroused the suspicions of his comrades. Nobody but the men present will ever know what took place at this second meeting, and there is nothing positive but that shortly afterwards Buckley was assassinated one evening after sundown on his way home from work. It was rumored around the neighborhood that Purvis was the guilty man. The rumors gained credence, and Purvis was arrested. At the trial Buckley's brother, was with him on the night he was murdered, testified that he recognized Purvis as the murderer.

Whether innocent or guilty, Purvis was sentenced to be hanged, and the day of execution was fixed and the gallows erected. The hanging was to be a public one, and as there had not been one in many a year in the neighborhood, crowds from all over the country gathered to witness the gruesome event. There were the usual preliminaries which attend such occasion. The prisoner was led upon the scaffold and allowed to say a last word. A minister of the gospel walked with him in the shadow of death and offered up prayers for the salvation of his soul.

At last the fatal moment came. The black cap was pulled down over the horrified eyes of the prisoner, and the noose was made fast around his neck. There was a hush in the great multitude of spectators, a pause, and then the trap was sprang and the body shot downward through the trap. Many sickened at the sight and turned away. For a moment the body writhed and quivered in midair, and then the knot slipped and the prisoner fell heavily to the ground. A wild shout greeted this denouement, the first of its kind the people of Marion county and the adjacent counties had ever witnessed. Eagerly the crowd pressed forward and assisted Purvis to his feet. As soon as he began to revive he called God to witness that he was innocent of the crime of which he was accused, and for which he had almost paid with his life.

But law is law, and the sheriff soon ordered the people to stand back and began preparations for a second attempt at execution. The people now asserted themselves. They cried down this act and threatened violence. To them it was an inscrutable sign on the part of Providence that Purvis was really innocent, and that a judicial murder had been prevented by divine interference. Purvis was taken back to jail, and soon afterwards was rescued by a mob. Gov. Stone, who was then in office, was besieged by pleading and threatening letters in behalf of the culprit, but he remained firm. When Gov. McLaurin came into office Purvis was recaptured, or, rather, he was brought back to jail by his friends, and his sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life.

"God's judgment" seems to have deeply impressed the people of Marion county. A brother and an uncle the murdered man signed the petition to the governor clamoring for Purvis' pardon, and all the Marion county folks attached their names to the document. The entire state of Mississippi seems to be on the side of Purvis, and very likely on the side of justice, so far as any one knows.

—The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Feb. 11, 1899, p. 3.