Wednesday, February 5, 2025

Holdin' Things Together: The Dunbar Faris Story

 Over the past couple of years, I have been collecting thoughts and information on this individual. My intentions were to write a book about him. It is a project that I’ve wanted to do for quite some time. And to be honest, it’s long overdue. I reached out to the family a few times to schedule an interview so that I could get some information, but they were never available. So reading between the lines, they apparently were not interested.


So instead of a book, I'll do the best I can with what information I have here in this blog.

When it comes to music artists, Kentucky has given birth to as many or maybe more than any other state.  Renowned artists such as Ricky Skaggs, Dwight Yocum, Noah Thompson, Tyler Childers, Chris Stapleton, Loretta Lynn, Crystal Gayle, Bill Monroe, Billy Ray Cyrus, The Everly Brothers, Keith Whitley, Tom T. Hall, The Judds, Montgomery Gentry, Tyler Booth, Patty Lovelace, and many others are the products of Kentucky.

I’ve often said that there is more talent up in the hills and “hollers” of Kentucky than people realize, and sadly, most of it goes undiscovered.

Fleming County, Kentucky is a small county located in the Northeastern section of Kentucky.  The population in the latest U.S. Census was just over 15,000 people. The county seat is Flemingsburg.  The county was formed in 1798 from part of Mason County. The county was named for Col. John Fleming, an Indian fighter and early settler.

Fleming County is known as the Covered Bridge Capital of Kentucky, having more covered bridges than any county in the state.

The county has also produced such notable citizens as Jazz pianist Herman Chittizen, U.S. Navy Medal of Honor Recipient Edward Alvin Clary, Willis A. Gorman who was a Union Army General during the  Civil War and would later serve in the United States House of Representatives for Indiana and a territorial Governor for Minnesota.  Fleming County also produced other notable citizens such as Claiborne Fox Jackson, pro-Confederate Governor of Missouri during the early stages of the Civil War, Alvin Saunders, United States Senator for Nebraska, and Franklin Sousley, one of the Iwo Jima flag raisers.

But Fleming County was also the home of another notable figure- Colonel Dunbar D. Faris.

Now, you may be asking "just who was Dunbar Faris?"  Well, before we can tell you who he was, we must start the story from the beginning.

According to FamilySearch.org, Dunbar’s Great—Great Grandparents, William and Arenia Bravard Faris, came to Kentucky from Maryland.  The exact date of their arrival to Fleming County is unknown, but we know it was after 1791.

William and Arenia had two sons, John Faris, and Ephraim Faris.

 


Ephraim Faris, shown here, was Dunbar’s Great-Grandfather. He was born in Maryland in 1791. He came to Kentucky with his parents sometime in the late 1700’s or early 1800’s.  He married Kentucky native Rachel Elizabeth Kelley.  They settled in the Hillsboro community of Fleming County. Ephraim and Rachel had at least eight children, including James F. Faris.


James F. Faris, shown here, was Dunbar’s Grandfather. He was born in 1832 in Fleming County, Kentucky. He married Catharine Ann Knox, also of Fleming County. Together they had at least eight children, including James Monroe Faris.

James Monroe Faris (picture unavailable), a blacksmith, was born in Fleming County, Kentucky in 1860.  He married Sarah Alice Story, also of Fleming County. They had at least 8 children, including Dunbar D. Faris.

 Dunbar D. Faris was born in Fleming County, Kentucky on April 17, 1909, the son of James Monroe Faris and Sarah Alice Story.


Little is known about Dunbar's childhood, upbringing, or his family life. But that's okay.

So are you still wondering just who Dunbar Faris was? Dunbar Faris was a country and western entertainer and musician from Fleming County, Kentucky. He owned the Fox Valley Country Music Show & Barn Dance, a venue that showcased country music performances.

It was here that, at age 13, Debbie Wilson, another fairly successful music entertainer, began singing regularly on weekends, which helped launch her career in country music.

An enhanced newspaper ad for the Fox Valley Country Music Show featuring Col. Dunbar Faris


Growing up as a boy in Morehead, Kentucky, some of my childhood memories include our family going over to neighboring Fleming County to the Fox Valley Country Music Show and Barn Dance.  We didn’t go every weekend.  And, we didn’t go that often. But when we did go, I enjoyed it.

Fox Valley Country Music Show & Barn Dance barn as it looked a few years ago. It closed in the late 1980's.



In addition to his Barn Dance & Country Music Show, Dunbar became a fixture at regional events such as fairs and festivals.

 In 1957, Faris released the single "I Love You Till The End Of The World" backed with "You Have Forgotten Me."





His contributions to country music have been recognized in compilations such as "Country Music on the Excellent Label - Volume 2," which features tracks like "I Love You Till The End Of The World" and "You Have Forgotten Me."

He is also widely known for his cover of Merle Haggard's  "Holdin' Things Together", which was my Mom's favorite by Dunbar.

For those interested in his musical style, several of his songs are available on YouTube, including "You Have Forgotten Me," "Decisions," "I Love You Till The End Of The World," and "My Record & A Friend."

Dunbar was tragically killed in an automobile accident in  June 1993.  

Clipped from the Lexington Herald-Leader, June 22, 1993


While not widely known on the national stage, Dunbar Faris made significant contributions to the country music scene in Kentucky, both as a performer and as a promoter of local talent.










Saturday, February 1, 2025

Donald Harvey: The Angel of Death


Donald Harvey, infamously known as the "Angel of Death," was an American serial killer who claimed to have murdered dozens of hospital patients during his career as a nurse's aide. His heinous crimes, which took place over a span of nearly two decades, have made him one of the most notorious medical murderers in history. His case shocked the nation and raised serious concerns about the oversight of medical professionals and the vulnerabilities of hospital patients.

 Harvey was born on April 15, 1952, in Butler County, Ohio. He grew up in a seemingly normal household but later exhibited disturbing behavioral patterns. Despite this, he was able to secure a job in the medical field, where he found himself in a position of power over vulnerable individuals. He started his killing spree in the early 1970s, using his role as a nurse’s aide to access and ultimately end the lives of his victims.

 His first known murder occurred in 1970 at the Marymount Hospital in London, Kentucky. He later confessed to suffocating a patient, an act he justified as a form of "mercy killing." This justification became a recurring theme throughout his killing spree. He convinced himself that he was alleviating suffering, though his methods were anything but humane.

Harvey’s methods of murder were varied and cruel. He poisoned patients with arsenic and cyanide, smothered them with pillows, tampered with their oxygen supplies, and administered lethal doses of medications. Despite the growing number of deaths under his watch, hospital officials failed to notice any clear patterns or raise suspicions about his activities for years.

 After leaving Marymount Hospital, Harvey moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, where he continued his killings at the Veterans Administration Medical Center and Drake Memorial Hospital. He took advantage of lapses in hospital regulations, targeting the elderly and terminally ill. His access to a variety of drugs and medical equipment enabled him to kill discreetly, avoiding detection for years.

 Harvey's crimes were not confined solely to hospitals. He also killed people in private homes, including his partner’s father. He was meticulous in covering his tracks, often selecting victims who were already seriously ill or near death, making it difficult to distinguish his murders from natural causes.

 In addition to his medical knowledge, Harvey was also fascinated with the occult and dark rituals. He kept meticulous records of his killings, maintaining a macabre list of victims. His intelligence and methodical nature allowed him to evade capture for a disturbingly long time.

 Authorities finally uncovered Harvey’s crimes in 1987 when a suspicious autopsy revealed cyanide poisoning in one of his victims. Further investigation led to his arrest, and during interrogation, he shockingly admitted to killing dozens of people. His confession included detailed accounts of his methods and motivations, leading to widespread horror and disbelief.

 At his trial, Harvey pleaded guilty to multiple counts of murder to avoid the death penalty. He was sentenced to multiple life terms, ensuring he would never be free again. His sentencing brought some closure to the families of his victims, but many were left with the haunting realization that hospital patients had been at the mercy of a cold-blooded killer for years.

Lexington Herald-Leader, Lexington, KY, August 19, 1987


While Harvey initially claimed to have killed over 70 people, the exact number of his victims remains unknown. Some experts believe the true toll could be even higher, given the difficulty of linking deaths in hospital settings to foul play, especially when the victims were already in poor health. Eight of those killings were in Kentucky, according to newspaper accounts.

The Paducah Sun, Paducah, KY, August 21, 1987



 Harvey’s case raised serious concerns about hospital security and oversight in medical institutions. Many questioned how a single individual could have committed so many murders without drawing suspicion. As a result, hospitals began implementing stricter protocols to monitor patient deaths and the actions of medical staff.

 The concept of the "Angel of Death" killer—medical professionals who murder their patients—has since become a significant area of study for criminal profilers and forensic investigators. Harvey's case serves as a chilling example of how individuals in positions of trust can exploit their authority for sinister purposes.

 Even in prison, Harvey remained a disturbing figure. He showed little remorse for his crimes, often justifying his actions as acts of mercy. However, his methods and selection of victims suggested that he took pleasure in having control over life and death rather than acting out of compassion.

 On March 30, 2017, Harvey was attacked by another inmate in his prison cell at the Toledo Correctional Institution in Ohio. He was severely beaten and succumbed to his injuries two days later. His death was met with little sympathy from the public, with many viewing it as a form of poetic justice for the pain he had inflicted on so many.
The Courier-Journal, Louisville, KY, March 31, 2017


 The legacy of Donald Harvey remains one of horror and caution. His case highlighted the vulnerabilities in the medical system and the importance of vigilance in patient care. His story is a grim reminder that even those entrusted with the well-being of others can sometimes harbor the darkest intentions.

 Harvey's crimes also led to increased scrutiny of medical professionals who have access to lethal substances. Hospitals and healthcare facilities have since adopted more stringent checks and balances to prevent similar cases from occurring in the future. 

The psychological profile of Harvey has been widely studied, with experts attempting to understand what drove him to commit such atrocities. While he claimed to have started as a mercy killer, his continued killings suggested a deeper, more sinister compulsion.

 Ultimately, Donald Harvey's story is a terrifying example of how a single individual, when left unchecked, can wreak havoc on society. His case serves as both a warning and a call to action for medical institutions to remain ever-vigilant against those who seek to abuse their power. The scars left by his reign of terror remain a chilling testament to the dangers of misplaced trust in positions of authority.


UPDATE: Here is another list of just some of his victims:
Donald Harvey - Wikipedia









Friday, January 24, 2025

The Life and Legacy of Roy Conway: Pike County’s Reformist Sheriff

 Introduction

Roy Conway’s life and career represent a powerful story of dedication to justice, integrity, and the pursuit of a better future for Pike County, Kentucky. From his humble beginnings in rural Appalachia to his tragic assassination as sheriff, Conway’s legacy is one of courage and reform. This ebook explores his upbringing, political career, and the impact he left on his community.


Chapter 1: Early Life and Upbringing

Sheriff Roy Conway

Roy Conway was born on March 26, 1906, in Pike County, Kentucky, to William and Louisa Kendrick Conway. His family was a very close-knit family. Growing up in rural Kentucky, Conway was immersed in Appalachian culture, characterized by its strong sense of community, reliance on the coal industry, and a deep-rooted commitment to family values.

Details about his early education are scarce, but Conway’s formative years instilled in him a strong work ethic and a desire to contribute to his community. As a young man, he ventured into business, gaining insights into the economic challenges of Pike County. This experience would later shape his vision for public service.

Conway married Esta Craft, a native of nearby Letcher County. Esta was well-educated, having attended Morehead State Teacher’s College. Together, they raised four daughters, including Judi Patton, who would go on to become the First Lady of Kentucky. Conway’s family life reflected his commitment to education, integrity, and public service.


Chapter 2: Entering Public Service

Before becoming sheriff, Conway served as a state legislator in Kentucky. During his tenure, he worked to promote economic development and improve infrastructure in Pike County. His efforts focused on addressing the needs of a region heavily reliant on coal mining, where poverty and lack of opportunity were persistent issues.

Conway played a significant role in advocating for policies that supported the working-class population of Pike County. He pushed for improved labor conditions, particularly for coal miners, and sought to bring more educational resources to the region. Understanding the importance of infrastructure in economic growth, Conway supported road construction projects and other initiatives to improve connectivity in the rural county.

Additionally, Conway was a vocal advocate for government accountability. He worked to expose and address corruption at both the local and state levels, emphasizing transparency and fairness in governance. These efforts earned him a reputation as a reformist, setting the stage for his later campaign for sheriff.

Conway’s reputation for honesty and approachability made him a respected figure in local politics. He was known for his ability to connect with his constituents and his determination to tackle corruption—a quality that would define his later career as sheriff.


Chapter 3: The Campaign for Sheriff

In 1950, Roy Conway launched his campaign for sheriff of Pike County. At the time, the county was plagued by bootlegging, organized crime, and corruption. Public trust in law enforcement was at an all-time low, and citizens were eager for change.

Conway ran on a platform of reform and justice, emphasizing:

  • Eradicating Bootlegging: Pledging to dismantle the illegal alcohol trade that fueled crime and corruption.

  • Restoring Integrity: Promising a transparent and fair sheriff’s office.

  • Promoting Public Safety: Committing to reducing crime and creating a safer environment for families.

  • Accountability: Vowing to serve the people, not special interests or criminal enterprises.

Conway’s grassroots campaign relied on personal connections with voters. He traveled throughout Pike County, holding town hall meetings and listening to the concerns of residents. His message of hope and change resonated with the electorate, leading to a decisive victory in January 1950.


Chapter 4: Tenure as Sheriff

Roy Conway took office in January 1950 and immediately began fulfilling his campaign promises. His administration focused on cracking down on bootlegging and organized crime, targeting operations that had long operated with impunity. He also worked to eliminate corruption within the sheriff’s office, ensuring law enforcement served the people fairly.

Conway’s actions earned him praise from law-abiding citizens but also made him powerful enemies. Criminal enterprises and corrupt officials saw his reforms as a threat to their influence. Despite mounting opposition, Conway’s resolve never wavered.

Conway’s fight against bootlegging and corruption bears significant similarities to that of Sheriff Buford Pusser of McNairy County, Tennessee. Like Conway, Pusser became known for his fearless efforts to eradicate organized crime and illegal activities in his jurisdiction during the 1960s. Both sheriffs targeted moonshiners, bootleggers, and criminal syndicates that wielded considerable power in their respective regions. Additionally, both men faced significant personal risk, earning the admiration of their communities while simultaneously becoming targets of violent retaliation. Tragically, both Conway and Pusser paid a heavy price for their commitment to justice: Conway through his assassination and Pusser through multiple violent attacks, including the car crash that ultimately took his life. These parallels highlight the dangers faced by law enforcement officials who dare to confront entrenched corruption.


Chapter 5: The Tragic Assassination

On July 28, 1950, just six months into his term, Roy Conway was assassinated outside his home in Pikeville. A false call for help lured him from his house, and as he stepped outside, he was ambushed and shot by two brothers whose family’s illegal bootlegging operations had been disrupted by Conway’s enforcement efforts. The sheriff was struck by multiple gunshots and collapsed in his front yard, where his family witnessed the horrific scene.

The investigation into Conway’s murder was swift, with local law enforcement and state authorities working together to apprehend the culprits. The two brothers, identified as members of a prominent bootlegging family in Pike County, were arrested and charged with first-degree murder. The trial became a landmark case in Pike County, drawing widespread attention due to Conway’s high-profile status and the public’s demand for justice.

During the trial, prosecutors presented compelling evidence linking the brothers to the crime, including testimony from witnesses and forensic evidence from the scene. The defense attempted to argue that the brothers acted out of fear of retaliation from Conway, but the jury was unconvinced. After a lengthy deliberation, the brothers were found guilty of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

The trial and conviction sent a strong message to the criminal underworld in Pike County, underscoring the consequences of targeting law enforcement officials. However, Conway’s assassination also highlighted the deep-rooted challenges of combating organized crime and corruption in the region.


Chapter 6: Legacy and Impact

Although his tenure was tragically brief, Roy Conway’s impact on Pike County was profound. His assassination highlighted the dangers of confronting corruption but also inspired a renewed commitment to justice and reform in the community.

After his death, Conway’s wife, Esta Craft Conway, was appointed to serve out the remainder of his term as sheriff. She became the first female sheriff in Pike County and continued her husband’s mission to uphold the law and combat corruption.

Conway’s legacy also lives on through his daughter, Judi Patton, who has often spoken about the influence of her father’s courage and integrity on her own dedication to public service.


Conclusion

Roy Conway’s life is a testament to the power of integrity, courage, and a commitment to justice. From his humble beginnings in Pike County to his transformative but tragically short tenure as sheriff, Conway’s story is one of resilience and hope. His legacy serves as a reminder of the sacrifices made by those who dare to stand up for what is right and the enduring impact of true public service.



Editor's Note:  There is not much information available online about Sheriff Conway. I used what information was available , along with A.I. to create this blog. If anyone sees any incorrect information here, please send me an email to djc351@yahoo.com and I will research it , and if need be, correct it.

Saturday, January 11, 2025

A Red-Hot Time in Lewis County, Kentucky: Blood and Fun Just Ahead!

 

Thanks to my cousin Raymond Hobbs for his help with this blog!



PREFACE: In presenting this blog, we present it based on the information provided by the newspapers of the day. We certainly do not mean any disrespect to the family involved.

In 1856, James M. English and Sarah Jane McGowan English of Robertson County, KY, gave birth to a daughter named Elizabeth A. "May" English.

Little is known about the English Family other than they had "become notorious all over this portion of the state."

Her brother, John English was once shot by his brother George English. An older brother Bill English was killed by a Vaughn man.  And George also lodged in the Carlisle, KY jail on burglary charges.

Elizabeth married John J. Crow on March 2, 1873 in Fleming County, Kentucky and had at least two sons and two daughters.

The family moved to Lewis County July 1897 after they were allegedly forced to leave Robertson County.

On February 11, 1898, Lewis County Constable Charles Cooper along with a posse made up of William Thacker, John Pollitt, and two Brewer young men went to the Crow residence located between Foxport and Petersville, to serve warrants on the family for trespassing and chicken stealing.




The entire Crow Family were "armed to the teeth", and a pitched battle broke out between the Crow family and the officers. Sources vary as to the details of the battle, but allegedly   Elizabeth shot William Thacker in the temple and one of the daughters allegedly began stabbing him and trying to cut his throat. Once source stated that John Crow, the patriarch of the family, was using an axe as a weapon and cut Mr. Thacker during the fight.

The officers returned fire, killing Elizabeth almost instantly and shot one of the daughters in the side.

After the battle, the family had a fight over the body of Mrs. Crow and the possession of her money, totaling $160, that she had in her jacket.

John Crow would not permit any postmortem examination and declared that he would kill the Coroner should he attempt it.

The next day, Saturday, February 12, 1898, Mrs. Elizabeth Crow was taken by a rickety wagon to Mt. Tabor in Fleming County for burial, with John, his daughters, and a child all sitting on top of the coffin, all armed to the teeth.




As for the charges for the rest of the family - they were arrested and were fined $7.00 each for the chicken thievery and trespassing.

The death of Mrs. Crow brought the passing of "one of the most desperate women that ever inhabited the mountains in this section of Kentucky."

By the end of February, the family left Lewis County and relocated to Nicholas County near the Robertson County line.

Oddly enough, William Thacker, who was shot, stabbed, and cut in the battle would be hanged by a mob in Flemingsburg just five years later for the killing of young John Gordon. Sources state that he had also killed Jeff Fields of Fleming County prior to the killing of Mrs. Crow.

Thursday, November 21, 2024

King Of The Covers

 I've often said, perhaps even on one of these blogs, that the amount of hidden talent that lives in the hills and "hollers" of Appalachia is mind boggling. There are people in the hills and "hollers" that are as good or even better than anyone you will find on the world's grandest stages.


A couple of nights ago I was helping the Menifee County, Kentucky Tourism department locate a song from decades ago. In my search I discovered an artist of whom I'd never heard, but he had moderate success in the music industry. And he was from Menifee County (Frenchburg), Kentucky.   His name: Delbert Barker.  

Delbert Barker in the 1950's.


Delbert was born December 3, 1932, in Frenchburg, a son of the late Alvin & Sarah (Langworthy) Barker.  In 1943 he moved with his parents to Middletown, Ohio, where at the age of 14, he took part in a talent competition hosted by a local dance school. 


With a regional win in this competition, Delbert received a show on a local television station.


In 1951, WCPO-TV accepted Delbert as a member of its midday Barn Dance Show, Mid-Day Merry-Go Round.  Record label owner and producer Carl Burckhardt saw Barker during one of these shows and signed him to his Gateway record label. Burckhardt and his labels specialized in releasing cheaper cover versions of current hits. Over the next five years, Barker recorded numerous versions of country hits.  He was considered the "man with the five voices," as he was primarily responsible for the repertoire of Hank Williams, Carl Smith, Hank Thompson, Faron Young, and Lefty Frizzell.  He also covered hits by Jim Reeves, Tennessee Ernie Ford, and Bill Carlisle.


Delbert's band consisted of his cousin Ralph Barker on guitar, Bill Thomas on fiddle, Bill Apple on bass, Bob McCoy on steel guitar and sometimes a drummer and pianist.


Burkhardts' pressing plant often used poor material, so the quality of the records was often poor, in contrast to the good musical quality of the recordings by Barker and his band.


Burkhardt's marketing strategy was to focus on the song and not the artist, so many of his artists, including Delbert, did not receive the recognition they deserved, despite the excellent recordings.


In 1954 Barker released a single "Building Castles / Yearning In My Heart" after being noticed by Ben Garnett. However the song only received an average rating from Billboard.


In 1955 and 1956, Barker recorded numerous rockabilly songs including Johnny Cash's hit "So Doggone Lonesome", Carl Perkins' "Blue Suede Shoes" and Elvis Presley's "Heartbreak Hotel."

"King Of The Covers" album cover


In June of 1956, Delbert moved from Gateway Records to King Records. Louis Innis, manager for King Records, heard Delbert's version of "Blue Suede Shoes" and was so impressed that he offered Delbert a contract.  Barker accepted and held his first session for King on June 19, 1956. Four rockabilly songs were recorded. "No Good-Robinhood / That's A Sin" were released as singles. The record received very little marketing and therefore received very little success.


In November 1956, Delbert recorded his second session with King Records. That session produced two country singles. But they too received very little success. thus, allowing King to expire the contract and not renew it.


After the King Records failure, Delbert moved to New Jersey where he worked for some time as a backing musician for country stars such as Justin Tubb, Jimmy Dean, George Morgan, the Warren Brothers, Jimmie Skinner, and others. He had enough work, but the money was not enough for he and his family to survive.


Delbert moved back to Middletown, Ohio in 1959 where he went to work as a police officer.  In his 26-year law enforcement career, he rose through the ranks to become Lieutenant.


In 1966 he tried the music industry again -- again with King Records. He recorded the single "It Can't Last Long / Color Me Gone" which received little public attention. In 1981 Delbert was finally able to achieve success as a songwriter when Charley Pride took the song "You Almost Slipped My Mind" all the way to number one on the charts.


Delbert continued to be involved in the music industry until old age. He owned a small recording studio and label (Center Records). He performed as a guitarist and a singer. He was a member of the Delbert Barker Gospel Trio. And he was inducted to the Rock-A-Billy Hall of Fame.


In his lengthy musical career, he recorded over 100 songs.  And he had his beginnings in rural Frenchburg, Kentucky.

Sunday, October 6, 2024

The Ghost Upstairs

As we are in the early days of Halloween season, I thought I'd share a ghost story for everyone.

This story involves my own family.

Between 10:00 A.M. and 11:00 A.M. on February 22, 1974, Ivan Verner Via was murdered in his Rowan County, KY home by his wife Vesta Wilson Via.

Now the story that was reported by the local newspaper varies just a bit from those who were actually present.  Knowing the people that were actually present, I'm going to go with what they said.

The Via's house was owned by Mr. & Mrs. Cooper. I'm omitting their first names because I don't want people flocking to the house in hopes of getting a scare.

Anyway, according to the Coopers', Vesta came to their house for a visit that morning. As they were sitting there talking Vesta jumps up and says "I just heard a gunshot! I bet Ivan has shot himself!"  In reality, what she was trying to do was create an alibi. 

The Coopers, who apparently never heard the shot, responded, "maybe we should go see!" or something close to that.  So they, accompanied by Mrs. Via, arrive at the Via home. Sure enough, they find Ivan dead of a gunshot wound.

Ivan Via, taken years before his death.



Kentucky State Police officers Jack Evans, Alonzo Hensley, and Marvin Jennings responded to the scene, where it was determined that Ivan was killed with a single shot to the head from a .22 caliber pistol. The incident apparently stemmed from a family dispute.

Mrs. Via was taken into custody and charged with murder and lodged in the Bath County Jail. The following Monday she appeared before Rowan County Judge Ott Caldwell, where she was advised of her rights and an attorney was appointed for her. 

After appearing before Judge Caldwell, Mrs. Via was taken to Eastern State Hospital in Lexington where she underwent treatment.

At the trial, Mrs. Via was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to five years in prison. But in March 1975, that conviction was reversed on the fact that the lower court failed to conduct a hearing on whether she was mentally competent to stand trial.  

The high court noted testimony by a psychiatrist that three days after the killing, Mrs. Via was behaving in a "bizarre and aggressive manner" and thought the psychiatrist was trying to kill her.

Little is known about Mrs. Via between 1975 and 1977. But on October 16, 1977, she jumped to her death from a seventh-floor window of the YWCA in Louisville, Kentucky. She died instantly of multiple injuries and the death was ruled a suicide.

Sometime after the Via murder, a Stacy woman moved into the old house where the murder happened. And she discovered that an upstairs bedroom had been completely sealed off . When she got into the room, she found all of Mr. Via's belongings still there, just as he had left them.   I don't know much more than that about her time in the house.

In 1977, my Great-Aunt and Great-Uncle moved into the house.  The first couple of years, nothing out of the ordinary happened.  But in 1979, that would all change.

My Aunt & Uncle came home from work one evening. And as they opened the door of the house, they said that a noise came from upstairs that sounded like someone had lifted the iron bed they had and dropped it onto the floor.  Thinking they had a burglar, they ran upstairs and all through the house but found no one. They were the only ones there.

A few days later my Grandmother and her fiancé were found dead.

The "iron bed dropping" occurred numerous times after that. And each time it did, there would be a death in our family within the next few days. It was as if it was a warning of some type.

But that was not the only strange activity that occurred in that house. Numerous guests who spent the night upstairs in Mr. Via's old room reported having an old man come to their bed and try to pull the covers off them.  This was reported by members of My Aunt's side of the family as well as by members of my Uncle's side of the family - and these were folks that did not even know one another, so there was no way of it being made up.

My Uncle was terrified of the house right up until he died several years ago. If my Aunt had to be gone overnight for any reason, he made sure I came and spent the night with him.  Just for the record, I have spent several nights in that house and in Mr.Via's old bedroom and I never once experienced anything other than the feeling of being watched in that bedroom. When you were in that bedroom, you knew that you were not alone.  But I never once felt threatened by whatever was there.

My aunt passed away seven years ago.  Just a few months before she passed, she was home alone, lying on the sofa watching TV. And a picture that she had hanging on the stairway came off the wall and flew out into the middle of her living room floor. It didn't just fall. It was lifted and thrown probably 7 or 8 feet out into the floor. I'm not sure if anything else ever happened in the house after that or not.

The old house is vacant now and is tied up in probate court, or at least was the last I heard. It may be vacated by humans, but I'd almost bet that whatever was haunting it, whether it be one of the Vias or someone else, is still hanging around. 

The House



As a side note, the Vias' only son committed suicide in 1983; so tragedy seemed to plague that family.





Tuesday, August 27, 2024

"Kentucky's Great 'Resurrection' Mystery"

 

On August 4, 2023 I featured on this blog another in depth article on this case. You can read that one here. 

It has taken me just over one year to find this account of the story, however. This one comes from the November 1930 edition of True Detective Mysteries Magazine.

"Kentucky's Great 'Resurrection' Mystery"

‘Here beyond doubt is one of the strangest murder cases of the twentieth century - a screaming miscarriage of justice…and a powerful argument against ‘an eye for an eye’.

Written by: Frederic Herndon
Published in the November 1930 edition of True Detective Mysteries magazine


Many are the tales that history and fiction have set in that little world known as Kentucky mountain region.  Many are the romances that have been woven around the sturdy, quick shooting men of the hills. Many are the crimes whose hidden facts never reach the outside and are whispered among the simple folk like the rustle of the winds that the giant oaks and mountain laurel.  Seldom is the world allowed to listen in.

These are stories of a civilization untamed.  In this domain, loves are deep and hatreds deadly.  Behind the glamour of every Kentucky mountain feud and killing, is stark reality based in nearly every case upon the principles of the law -- 'an eye for an eye...'

Harlan, Kentucky, the county seat of Harlan County, is a typical mountain town.  It lies at the headwaters of the Cumberland River where the crystal currents of Martin's Fork and Clover Fork join and become a twisting stream to the outside world.  The town is the heart of the great Kentucky coal fields and pokes its rows of houses back up0 the side of a towering mountain.  Despite the roads made by the outside world, the folk still retain, to some measure, the doctrine of individual right and personal redress of wrong that has been handed down for more than a century.

It is said that truth is stranger than fiction, and this is borne out in the story of the "Ghost Girl' of Harlan County.

Back up in the hills from Harlan is a little mining settlement called Coxton.  It was there in August 1925, lived E.C. Vickery, a painter by trade, who had recently moved to the county with his family from Knoxville, Tennessee.  In his household were his wife, two daughters, Mary and Christine, and three sons, Everett, John, and Harry.  Their home was a typical mountain home.  IT sat upon a bluff which rolled down to the edge of Martin's Fork.  Vickery was a mountaineer by birth, having come originally from West Virginia, and had relatives in several towns in southeastern Kentucky.








Mary Vickery was a pretty sixteen-year-old brunette of medium build.  She had dark bobbed hair and brown eyes.  Well known both in Harlan and Coxton, she was popular with the younger people of the section.   She was still in school, where she took part in many of the activities outside the regular line of study.

 

Principal!
Mary Vickery, whose sudden disappearance  
marked the inception of the 'resurrection' riddle.


On August the 18th, 1925, Mary told her father she was going over to Harlan to see girlfriends and promised to return sometime during the afternoon.  When she left home she was wearing a simple print dress, brown shoes and stockings, a brown hat and a light coat.  Whether Mary walked over the five-mile mountain road as was sometimes her custom; whether she went by automobile with friends, or whether she rode in a taxi that ran between the two towns has never been known.

 When members of the family sat down to supper that night Mary had not returned.  Inquiry among neighbors disclosed that she had not been seen during the afternoon in Coxton.  Her mother and father agreed she was spending the night with some of the girls in Harlan and did not worry about her failure to return later on in the evening.

The next morning, however, when no word was received from Mary, Mr. Vickery went to Harlan and inquired among acquaintances with whom she could have spent the night.  To his surprise and worry, he was unable to find a single person who had seen her during the past twenty-four hours.  Mr. Vickery notified Sheriff James Greene and hurried home.  All the way there he lived in hope that upon his arrival he would find his daughter had returned.

He was doomed to disappointment. For, when he reached there, an anxious family informed him she had not returned.  He found further that persons who had traveled the road between Harlan and Coxton the day before had not seen her.

Fearing that something might have happened to the girl, the father and neighbors organized a searching party to scour the ridges between Coxton and Harlan; relatives were notified as far away as Knoxville, and all her friends were questioned.  None of the latter could throw any light upon the sudden disappearance, nor could they advance any theory as to the reason for it.  The possibility of her having run away to get married was scouted, because none of her friendships was considered more than trivial.  She had no reason, apparently, to leave home, since conditions there were harmonious.   Besides, she took no extra clothing, and it was thought that she had no money with her other than enough to make a few small purchases.

Within the next three days, all relatives had been heard from, and a thorough search of the mountain had been completed --to no avail.  Had the earth suddenly opened and swallowed her, Mary Vickery could not have vanished more quickly.

It was not until a week later that B.B. Golden, Commonwealth's Attorney for that district, received information that a girl named Marie Jackson, of Harlan, had made a statement to the effect that she had seen Mary Vickery, on the day she left home, with a man in an automobile between Harlan and Coxton.  Mr. Golden decided to take the matter up with the Harlan County Grand Jury and summoned the Jackson girl and several others to appear.

Miss Jackson told the jurors she had seen the Vickery girl in an automobile that day and thought she was with a coal miner living at Cedar Point about twelve miles away.  She thought his name was Charlie Williams.  Williams, about twenty-five years old and of excellent reputation, was summoned and questioned thoroughly.  He denied even knowing the Vickery girl and was dismissed after Miss Jackson failed to pick him out of a group of men when asked to identify him.  Her description of the companion of the Vickery girl did not tally with that of Williams.






It might be well to note here that Williams was exonerated of any suspicion in the case.

After hearing several witnesses, the jury was unable to throw any light on the mystery, and in a few weeks authorities were ready to mark the case 'unsolved.'

On the afternoon of October 21st, 1925, Deputy United States Marshal Adrian Metcalf and Deputy Sheriff Art Hensley were searching the mountains between Harlan and Coxton in quest of a moonshine still.  Following an old trail up the side of the mountain about a mile out of Harlan, the officers noted a peculiar odor.  To these men of long experience, it was unmistakenly the smell of decaying human flesh.

They pushed high up the rugged mountain and shortly came to the mouth of an abandoned coal mine shaft.  The tunnel was sunk straight back into the side of the hill, and about the entrance were piled rotting timbers. Brushes had grown up in tangled profusion and almost hid the black maw in the rock ledge.   The remains of a narrow gauge railroad that once stretched back far into the heart of the mountain protruded from the shaft.  It was needless for the officers to climb higher, for both Hensley and Metcalf knew they had traced the odor to its source.

They entered the shaft, and by striking matches obtained enough light to make their way back in the passage. They had gone only about seventy-five feet when they saw, in the flickering glow of a match, the outline of a human figure, covered with rocks.  They approached gingerly and, with the aid of more match light, found it was the body of a woman, unrecognizable and badly decomposed.

The men knew instinctively that they were in the presence of some terrible crime.  The inky passage; black walls dripping with dank moisture and a ghostly silence contributed to the gruesomeness of the setting.

The shocked officers gathered dead limbs and pieces of decaying wood and built a fire inside the shaft in order to make closer examination of the body.  Apparently, a hasty attempt had been made to bury it with small stones. They removed these and by means of a crude litter constructed of mine timbers removed the body to the outside.

Leaving Metcalf to stand guard, Sheriff Hensley hurried to Harlan.  Within the next hour other officials, including the coroner, had arrived.  An examination of the body disclosed the woman had been beaten to death.  The skull had been badly crushed, evidently by some blunt instrument. She appeared to have been of medium stature, but, due to the decomposed condition of the body, it was impossible to determine her age or just how long she had been dead.  A physician expressed the opinion she had been in the shaft for several months.  The clothing was torn and faded.  Water had removed the last vestige of color from all of her clothing except a small felt hat found lying beside the body.

By that time a crowd had gathered.  Remembering the disappearance of the Vickery girl officials sent for E.C. Vickery who arrived while arrangements were being made to remove the body to an undertaking establishment in Harlan.

The mountaineer examined the body and immediately identified it as his daughter.  He recognized the hat, mildewed and bloodstained, as the one worn by her the day she left home.  He was visibly shaken by the gruesome spectacle, but with characteristic grimness, took charge of the body.

The next day a sorrowing mountain family buried the body in a little church cemetery near Coxton.

A little more than two months before, the county had been immersed in an investigation of the disappearance of Mary Vickery.  Now authorities were faced with the problem of finding her murderer.  Although facilities in the mountains are not as adequate as in the metropolitan districts, G.J. Jarvis, acting county judge, determined to find the slayer at any cost and bring him or her to justice, launched a methodical investigation of the case.

Every line of procedure was followed.  The girl's acquaintances were questioned closely in an effort to unearth a motive for the slaying.  Several young men with whom she had dates at various times came to Jarvis and volunteered their aid.  None were considered as suspects, and what little information they gave proved of no value.  The investigation carried authorities to the most remote mining camps in sections of Harlan and adjoining counties.  The movements of several men whose reputations were questionable were traced, but each of these men was able to prove by means of alibis and other testimony that he was above suspicion.

For three weeks the investigation was carried forward relentlessly, and for three weeks it uncovered no clue as to the motive or identity of the slayer.  Authorities had about reached the conclusion that Mary Vickery had been attacked and slain by some degenerate.  In the meantime, a reward of $500 had been offered by the State for information leading to the capture of the girl's killer.

On November 15, 1925, officials in charge of the case had little hope of bringing the person who killed the girl to justice.  In the midst of their disappointment at the trend the case had taken so far, they received a tip that led them to uncovering of one of the most diabolical plots in the annals of American crime.

This clue came in the form of an anonymous telephone call to Mr. Jarvis - a reward for his untiring  efforts.

He was about to leave his office that afternoon when a man, whose name was never learned, gave him the names of two other men who claimed they saw Marie Jackson walking down the mountain side near the spot where the Vickery girl's body was found.  This was supposed to be on the day the girl disappeared.

Due to Marie Jackson's statement during the grand jury investigation of the case, she had been questioned time and again after the body had been found. She told nothing other than that she had seen Mary Vickery in an automobile with a man.

At the time Marie Jackson, vivacious and attractive, blue-eyed and red-haired, about eighteen years old, worked in a restaurant in Harlan.  She was the daughter of Dee Jackson, a farmer living near Pineville, Kentucky. She had been working in Harlan for about a year and bore a very good reputation among the townspeople.  Neither Mr. Jarvis nor other officials had any idea she really knew important facts about the case up until this time.  They had placed little faith in her story about the man in the automobile.   They had found she knew the Vickery girl only by sight.  In fact, the latter had no intimate girlfriends.

That night, Mr. Jarvis sent for the two men whose names had been given him.  As they had nothing to do with the disappearance of the girl, for obvious reasons their names are omitted from this story.

They were two coal miners who had been walking into Harlan from a nearby mine where they were employed.  They told Mr. Jarvis that they had seen the Jackson girl coming down the side of the mountain on which the body was found, late in the afternoon of August 18th.  Both had eaten frequently from the restaurant where she worked and knew her by sight.  They were sure the woman they saw was Marie Jackson, and remembered they had commented on the fact that she was smoking a cigarette.  They had been transferred to another mine in West Virginia shortly after the incident and had just returned to the vicinity.  They had heard of the case only two days before and had not formed any connection between their seeing the Jackson girl that afternoon and the murder of the other girl, Mary Vickery.  They merely had remarked about it in a street corner conversation.


The story rang true, and Jarvis, after checking it with officials of the mine company, sent out to get Marie Jackson.  In thirty minutes, she was ushered into his office.

Without mincing words Attorney Jarvis opened with the question:  'Marie, there were two men in my office a moment ago who said they saw you coming down off the mountain where we found Mary Vickery's body. It was on the afternoon she disappeared.  They are positive they saw you. What about it? '

'Well I guess they must have been seeing things,' the girl replied, rather flippantly, considering the occasion.

'Now Marie, you've told me two or three different stories about this thing, and I know you know something about this case,' Jarvis told her coolly. 'You said you saw her with Charlie Williams. You could not pick him out. You didn't even know him. What I want to know is, what were you doing on the mountain that day and with whom did you see Mary Vickery?'

The girl lit a cigarette and faced Mr. Jarvis without any trace of embarrassment or excitement at the implication.  His pugnacious attitude and determined manner of questioning did not in the last vanquish her indifference.

Then an experienced prosecutor set about the task of making the grim-lipped, red-haired mountain girl talk.  Her answers to his questions consisted mainly of nods of her head. She refused to go into any detail about anything.  She denied time and again that she had been on the mountain and offered to prove that she was in town that afternoon.

Jarvis stuck to his task like a bulldog.  At 1 o'clock in the morning he still insisted she was withholding important information from him.

At 1:45 o'clock Marie Jackson broke.  It was when Mr. Jarvis told her he was going to put her in jail and let her think it over.

'Alright, Mr. Jarvis, you win,' she said. 'Give me a cigarette and I'll tell you all I know about it.'

Jarvis complied with this request and waited.

'I wasn't on the mountain that day,' she said.  'I did see Mary Vickery that afternoon though.  I saw her riding with Condy Dabney in his taxicab. They left town and went towards the Coxton Road.  I never told this before, because I was in love with Condy Dabney.  He's gone and I don't know where he is. He has not written me, and I have not heard a word from him.  I am not going to get in trouble over him. That's all I know about it. When I said it was Charlie Williams I was trying to protect Dabney.  I wanted to keep him out of it.  I didn't have the nerve to go through with it. I knew all the time it wasn't Williams.'




The name of Condy Dabney had not here-to-fore been mentioned to Jarvis in this case.  The man, a former coal miner about thirty-one years old, had run a taxicab and jitney around Harlan for several months prior to the Vickery girl's disappearance.  He was not listed even among her acquaintances and his leaving shortly after she disappeared had not caused comment.  It was known his home was not in Harlan and that frequently he left town, returning later.  These facts had been overlooked in the investigation.

Tired, but with a certain feeling of relief, Jarvis went home after releasing the Jackson girl with the understanding that she remain in town until her story could be checked.

Early the next morning, November 16th, Jarvis learned that Dabney's home was in Coal Creek, Tennessee, just across the state boundary. He verified the fact that Dabney had left Harlan shortly after the Vickery girl's disappearance. That day he wired authorities at Coal Creek, Clinton, and Caryville, Tennessee, to arrest Dabney and hold him for questioning.  The next day he received a wire from Coal Creek stating that Dabney was under arrest.

Before officials from Harlan County could get to Coal Creek, being delayed two days because of impassable roads in the Coal Creek sect ion, Dabney was released.  When the Kentucky officials finally arrived there Dabney had disappeared and could not be found.  They learned that he was a married man and had two children.  They returned to Harlan, after Tennessee authorities promised to be on the lookout for him.  As the statement made by Marie Jackson was not made public, Tennessee authorities did not know when they released Dabney for what reason he was sought by Kentucky officers.

Jarvis swallowed his disappointment and continued his investigation.  He was faced with a complex situation in that he felt certain Marie Jackson was the key to the Vickery mystery and that if Dabney could be found and brought face to face with her, the case might be brought nearer solution.

In the midst of all this trouble with the case, the Jackson girl disappeared from Harlan.  Contrary to Jarvis' instructions she left for 'parts unknown.' This complicated the situation all the more and Jarvis had to search for two persons instead of one and had no idea where either of them had gone.  Days passed and no word was heard from either.  The case again died down in the public mind, but Jarvis was tireless in his secret work.

It was a few days after New Years Day, 1926, that Marie Jackson returned to Harlan. She just 'blew in' and acted as if nothing had happened Jarvis had her brought before him and questioned her thoroughly.  She offered no explanation for her absence nor any excuse for disobeying his instructions.  Her attitude toward the case was such that authorities decided to place her in jail.

Time after time during the next several weeks, Jarvis, Sheriff Greene, and County Attorney George R. Pope questioned the girl. They spent hours trying to drag more information from her but had little success.

On February 28th the bombshell exploded.  Marie Jackson sent for Mr. Jarvis, Sheriff Greene and Mr. Pope. Her carefree manner had vanished.  Weeks in jail had left their mark.

'I can't stand this any longer,' she informed them when they brought her from the jail to the sheriff's office. 'I'm going to tell you the truth.  Condy Dabney killed Mary VIckery and hid her body in that mine shaft!'

Three hours later a grim group of officials led Marie Jackson back to jail. When she re- entered her cell, she had been formally charged with accessory to murder! Officials refused absolutely to explain why the charge had been brought, saying only, 'The Commonwealth is in possession of information concerning the slaying of the Vickery girl, of the most revolting nature. We are not in a position now to reveal these facts, but they will be made known at the proper time.'

Th next morning a quiet but thorough search for Condy Dabney was renewed in earnest.  Police officials throughout the state were sent his description and authorities in Knoxville, Cincinnati, and other border state towns were asked to assist in his apprehension.  Whatever Marie Jackson had revealed to them was sufficient to cause a warrant to be issued charging Dabney with murder.

On Tuesday, March 4th, while the search was progressing, Sheriff Greene learned that Dabney was right under their noses, visiting at the home of a relative in Coxton. Deputies were dispatched immediately, and that afternoon Dabney was brought to Harlan.  He was placed in jail on a charge of murder and criminal assault.

Dabney vehemently denied any connection with the case, stating he had no idea who Mary Vickery was and swore he never had heard of her.

He was arraigned Wednesday morning before the news of his arrest had spread.  His examining trial was set for March 11th by County Judge W.J.R. Howard.

Bear in mind that the whole investigation had been conducted secretly and that the Commonwealth had guarded its evidence closely.  They expressed the belief they had the right man and were confident of a conviction.

Rumors of every nature spread like wildfire back up into the hills, and there was the usual small talk of mob violence.  Dabney had been unable to employ his counsel, and Judge Howard had appointed G.A. Rawlings, an attorney of Harlan, to defend him. 

Long before 10 o'clock on the morning of the trial, the courtroom in the Harlan County Courthouse was packed.  Approximately 1,000 persons were jammed into the room when the defendant, nervous and obviously anxious, was brought in.  From his demeanor it was evident that the rumbling of trouble had penetrated the walls of the jail.  He sat huddled in a chair, twirling his thumbs, his eyes shifting alternately from E.C. Vickery, the father, to the crowd.

County Attorney Pope was assisted by Mr. Jarvis in the prosecution. On motion of the defense counsel the case was waived to the grand jury without trial. Judge Howard ordered that everyone remain seated until Dabney had left the courthouse.  Back in jail he appeared relieved.  The curiosity of the crowd was not satisfied by any means.

A few days later Dabney was indicted, and the Commonwealth elected to try him first on the murder charge.  The trial was set for March 29th before Circuit Judge J.B. Forrester.  Just before this date B.B. Golden, Commonwealth's Attorney, made public for the first time that the prosecution was based upon the testimony of an eyewitness to the killing of Mary Vickery and that Marie Jackson was the witness.  He refused to divulge any details.

Although short, the trial was dramatic.  Once again, the courtroom was filled with hillspeople. Close inspection was made of those who attended in order to prevent the smuggling of arms inside.

Following the testimony of the coroner, the officers who found the body were called.  They described their part in the story in a few brief words.

Mr. Vickery took the stand and in a monotonous drawl, again identified the body found in the mine shaft as that of his daughter. He told of her leaving home and of his efforts to find her.

'Call Marie Jackson,' Golden boomed with a significant ring to his voice.

An expectant hush fell over the crowd as the red-haired mountain girl held up her hand to be sworn in.   Everybody present felt that the secret of the abandoned mine shaft was about to be made known.

After the usual preliminary questions Prosecutor Golden asked Marie Jackson if she on August 18th, 1925, was in the vicinity of the mine shaft and who she saw there.

'Yes, Sir,' she answered, 'I was. I saw Mary Vickery and Condy Dabney there.'

'Now Marie, I want you to tell in your own way just what happened and what you saw.'

In a cold, bitter, voice the witness related a story, whose sordidness transfixed all who heard with awe.  During her recital she glared at the defendant, who sat like a sphinx before her. Not once did his eyes waver from the face of his accuser.

'On the afternoon of August 18th,' she began in answer to Mr. Golden's instructions, 'Condy Dabney and I were riding around in his car.  We had been going together for some time.  We saw Mary Vickery in town, and he stopped his car and asked her if she wanted to go for a ride with us.  She got in and we drove out the Coxton Road and stopped.  We all three got out and walked up the side of the ridge and sat down.  We had been talking there a few minutes when Condy asked me to go back down to the car, saying he had something to tell Mary in private.  I sat around for a minute, then got up and started down the ridge.  I pretended like I was going back to the car, but after getting out of their sight I sneaked back where I could see them and hid behind a tree.

'Condy was trying to make love to the Vickery girl. He made her sit down and tried to pull her over to him and kiss her. She started fighting and tried to get away.  He kept on pulling her to him and when she kept on fighting him off, he got mad.  They were struggling when she broke loose and started to run towards where I was hiding.

'Dabney picked up a big limb off a tree that was laying there and started after her ---'

Here the girl paused and after a brief tense silence continued:

' He caught up with her and hit her on the head with the club.  She screamed, and he hit her another wallop on the head.  She fell, and as she landed on the ground, he hit her again.  I thought he had gone crazy and figured I'd better be getting away from there.  But somehow, I couldn't move.  He stood over her body and kept beating her with the club. She didn't move. Then he assaulted her.

After that he picked her up and carried her to the mouth of the mine shaft and went in.  I stood there a moment and watched him when he came out and got some rocks and went back in.  I then went back to the car.  Soon he came down the hill and got in. That's all. We came back to town."

These revelations made by the girl so affected the spectators that you could have heard a pin drop in the room as she concluded her story.

The prosecutor then asked the girl why she had not volunteered this information when the search f or Mary Vickery was in progress.

'Why? I'll tell you why. There were reasons I didn't want to tell. The first reason was I loved Condy Dabney. I was only trying to protect him.  But he left me and all the while he was gone, I never heard from him and I began to see what a fool I was.

The second reason I didn't tell you was because I was scared.  He knew I saw him.  That afternoon on our way back to town he told me that if I ever said anything about it he would take me to the highest peak in Harlan County and burn me at the stake.  I knew he meant it and I would have told for anything, except you all kept worrying me there in jail until I had to tell.’

Rawlings could not shake the story in his cross-examination.  Other witnesses introduced told of having seen Dabney with the Vickery girl in his automobile on the day she disappeared.  Shortly after the afternoon session convened, the Commonwealth closed.

In his own defense Dabney made a sweeping denial of the charges.  He reiterated his statement he did not know Mary Vickery and admitted frankly it was perfectly possible she rod in his car that day, reminding the jury he operated a taxi and could not remember all his passengers.

The Commonwealth demanded death, while Rawlings asked the jury not to consider too strongly the testimony of Marie Jackson, pointing out she had admitted under cross-examination she was jealous of Mary Vickery and Dabne.  The jury received the case late that afternoon.  After several hours' deliberation its members reported they had not reached a verdict and were taken to a hotel for the night.

The following morning the courtroom was jammed long before the opening hour. Speculation was rife as to the verdict. There was no denying the crowd was in an ugly mood, and many expressions were heard indicating that if the jury returned a verdict of 'not guilty' there were some who would take 'justice' in their own hands.

At ten thirty o'clock on Wednesday morning the jury reported it had reached a verdict and filed slowly into the courtroom.

'We, the jury, find the defendant, Condy Dabney, guilty of murder as charged in the indictment and his punishment at life imprisonment in the penitentiary.'

Dabney received the verdict without emotion.  It was discovered later the reason the jury had been out so long was because they could not agree on the penalty.  There were six of the jurors who voted for the death penalty, five for conviction, and one for acquittal. A compromise was effected between the man for acquittal and the six voting for death.  Rawlings announced that he would appeal the case.

After the trial, Marie Jackson was released from custody, and the charge of accessory to murder against her was filed away.  Dabney was sent to the State Reformatory at Frankfort.

When the iron doors slammed behind Condy Dabney that day finis had not been written in the Vickery case by any means.

The reader is probably wondering just why the author of this story has gone into such detail in presenting facts in the case thus far.  It was necessary in order to provide the entire background for incredible disclosures that follow.

In the year that followed, Harlan and vicinity had almost forgotten the affair with the exception of the family of Mary Vickery who still mourned her death.  Except for a few rumors from the reformatory now and then to the effect that Dabney maintained his innocence and was striving for a new trial, it was a closed record.

Authorities of Harlan County had been congratulated for the successful prosecution in the Vickery case. Particular praise had been bestowed upon them for their work in unraveling the threads of mystery that twined like a Gordian knot about it all.

But it remained for George S. Davis, a policeman of Williamsburg, a small town forty miles from Harlan, to rend asunder this Gordian knot and bring to light the fact that all previous work in the case had served only to add to its weird complication.

On March 18th, 1927, Patrolman Davis found Mary Vickery, long mourned dead, alive and well in Williamsburg!

The officer chanced to see the name 'Mary Vickery' written on the register of the Williamsburg Hotel.  More out of curiosity than anything else he asked the clerk about the guest and was told a girl with that name had registered that morning and was in a room on the second floor.

The girl he found there readily admitted that she was Mary Vickery – the Mary Vickery whose ‘dead body’ had been identified a year before and was buried at Coxton.

Davis lost no time in get ting in touch with George S. Ward, newly elected Sheriff of Harlan County and advising him of the strange discovery.

That night Deputy Charles K. Cadell of Whitley County took Mary Vickery home.  The excitement caused in Harlan by the disappearance of the girl and the finding of a body supposed to have been hers was nothing to compare with the hysteria of the people when word flashed a round that she had been ‘resurrected.’

There were 2500 persons at the station when the train arrived.  About the only one in town not present was Marie Jackson.  Hundreds in the crowd frankly said they did not believe it could be she, but all doubts were dispelled when Mary Vickery stepped from the train and flung her arms around her father’s neck.




There was a mad rush forward and Sheriff Ward had difficulty in getting her away from the crowd.  She was conducted to a small room in the courthouse.  Her story was heard by Jarvis, Sheriff Ward, County Judge Howard, Deputy Sheriff Metcalf, and her parents.

Two points were of particular interest to the officers. She denied that she knew anyone by the name of Marie Jackson and asserted she did not know Condy Dabney.  However, she described a man in whose taxi she rode on the day she left home and who, apparently, was Dabney.  It was evident that those who had testified probably had seen the girl in Dabney’s car.

It was the story of a girl who was back home from ‘just wandering around.’  She told them she left Harlan with only five dollars, saved from spending money, in her pocket, and had gone to Livingston, Kentucky, a town a bout fifty miles away, where she worked as a waitress in a restaurant.   Leaving there she went to Berea where she worked as a maid in a private home.  Her next stop was Mount Vernon, where she heard for the first time Dabney had been convicted for her murder.

Her only explanation as to why she had not notified her family that she was alive and well was: ‘I just never thought of it.’

She told them she went under the name of Rose Farmer while she was away. She continued to wander from town to town, working in restaurants and private homes until finally on March 17th she got homesick and decided to come home.  She went to Williamsburg where she had relatives.  She declared she intended to stay there only a day and then planned to return to Harlan.
It seemed almost unbelievable to officials that anyone could keep silent while someone was spending time in prison for their ‘murder.’  Miss Vickery’s statement, that she ‘never thought of it’, however, was the only explanation she made.

Marie Jackson was picked up the following morning by Deputy Sheriff Metcalf.  Before sending Mary Vickery home she and several other girls were taken to the county jail where, to complicate matters all the more, Marie Jackson was unable to pick her out of the group.  The same day a petition to Governor William J. Fields, asking for the pardon of Condy Dabney, was drawn. It was signed by Mr. and Mrs. Vickery, Judge Forrester, Mr. Jarvis, Mr. Pope, Judge Howard, Sheriff Ward, Jailer Charles Smith and Lloyd Turner, a member of the jury which convicted Dabney.

Mr. Rawlings, Dabney’s attorney, said before leaving for Frankfort with the petition, he would probably bring Dabney back to Harlan in order that he might testify before the Grand Jury and talk to authorities before he returned to his family at Coal Creek.

In the midst of this extraordinary turn the case had taken with the reappearance of the Vickery girl, officials once more found themselves as far removed from the solution of the murder of the girl found in the mine as they were before the secret investigation had started. They had again come to a blank wall and had only to turn to Marie Jackson, that enigmatic personality whose statements had placed an innocent man behind bars.

Jarvis once more started a determined effort to pierce the gloom which surrounded the conviction of Condy Dabney and the identity of the body found in the mine shaft.  The Jackson girl, despite the return of Mary Vickery, insisted stubbornly she had told the truth.

Events during the four days following Mary Vickery’s ‘resurrection’ had changed the case from one of interest only to Harlan County residents to a mysterious maze of circumstances that focused the attention of the entire country.  Newspaper men from Louisville, Cincinnati, Chicago, and other cities rushed to the little town, and soon front pages were filled with the weird story, accompanied by photographs.  Before the petition for Dabney’s pardon had reached Frankfort, Governor Fields had beard the t rue facts and set machinery in motion for his release.

On March 22nd, Condy Dabney, his face wreathed in smiles, left the Reformatory for Harlan, a free man.  To the surprise of newspaper men who were present at the signing of his pardon, Dabney evinced no bitterness against this red-haired persecutor.  His sole thought seemed to be of reuniting with his family.  The only explanation he offered as to why the Jackson girl had attempted to lie his life away was: ‘The warped mind of a woman with whom I had just two or three dates caused all this trouble.’

Now that he was free, Dabney seemed satisfied to say nothing.

On the same day Harlan County officials re-opened the investigation.  They now worked on the theory that the decomposed body found in the mine shaft was that of Mrs. Leila Cole, about twenty-five years old, who disappeared from her home in Harlan in late 1924.  Mrs. Cole, who at the time of her disappearance, was separated from her husband, James H. Cole, came to Harlan from Cumberland, Kentucky.  Her name before her marriage was Hicks.  According to her husband, who had been questioned by authorities, she was last seen in a house in Coxton where her clothing and jewelry were found in a suitcase sometime later.

Officials asked Marie Jackson if she knew the Cole woman.  To their consternation she immediately dropped her attitude of sullen indifference and said that the body found that October day was that of Mrs. Cole and that Charlie Williams, the miner who she first involved in the case, killed Mrs. Cole at the boarding house where she was living.

To give the reader some idea of the workings of the mind of this unusual mountain girl the author sets forth the second confession made to Mr. Jarvis on March 22nd, 1927.

‘I was standing on the corner by the Harlan Bank when Charlie Williams came by in his car and asked me to go for a ride.  Lying on the back seat was a bundle wrapped in a coat, and I asked him what it was. He then told me about the killing, and I tried to get out of the car, but he would not let me.  He drove out Coxton Road and stopped near the mine shaft.  He got out of the car and said he was going to take the body up on the mountain and hide it.  While he was gone, I got out and ran away and walked back to town.

The next day I saw him and promised I’d never tell anyone about it.  He gave me fifty dollars to keep still. I spent some of it for clothes.’

Without taking time to check the veracity of this statement, Judge Howard issued a warrant that night for the arrest of Williams and deputies were sent to Cedar Point to look for the miner. While this second manhunt was in progress, Marie Jackson, as changeable as the mountain breeze in her deadly accusations, repudiated her second attempt to implicate an innocent man.  Hardly three hours after she had accused Williams of murder, she told officers she had lied, and that the truth of the matter was that as far as she knew Charlie Williams did not even know the Cole woman.

When questioned as to why she told these different stories she admitted she made the first confession because of a violent hatred for Condy Dabney.  She denied it was caused from jealousy and refused time and again to explain why she sought such heinous revenge.  Her second attempt to implicate Williams was attributed merely to the knowledge she had failed in the first and to an effort to drag herself out of the mess.

After this development, officials saw at once the danger in placing any confidence in statements or ‘confessions’ made by Marie Jackson, and immediately quashed the warrant for Williams and abandoned their search for him.

On March 24th, Condy Dabney came back to Harlan.  A grand jury was impaneled and before they went into deliberation of the case Judge Forrester instructed the jurors as follows:

‘A frightful travesty has recently been committed in Harlan County.  It is of such a nature as to horrify even the most callous.  A man was indicted in this court on a charge of the brutal murder and criminal assault of a sixteen-year-old girl.   This man spent practically a year in the penitentiary under a life sentence for the murder of a girl who is alive and at the present moment is here in Harlan.

The jury decided the case on evidence of witnesses.  One of these witnesses detailed the murder of that girl as an eyewitness. A more dastardly deed is inconceivable - to swear away the life of an innocent man is a crime for which the law, unfortunately, does not provide sufficient punishment.

This is a case that deserves immediate and thorough investigation.  Enter into all angles of it.  If there are others behind this perjury, sift them out and indict them, closing your eyes absolutely to the stations in life of the persons guilty of such a vile subornation of perjury, if there has been any committed. Indict them, be it who they may.  It is bad enough to swear falsely in order to shield a guilty person, but in my humble judgement there can be nothing lower or more degraded than to make an innocent human being suffer the tortures of a trial, to hear perjurers swear his life away, to hear the verdict of a jury confining him to prison and misery for life.  I want this matter sifted to the bottom.  It is as much the duty of the court to see that justice is done to the innocent as it is to see that justice is meted out to the guilty.’


Following the judge’s instructions the jury went into the case thoroughly.  They reviewed the various statements, ‘confessions’ and declarations of the Jackson woman.  They heard other witnesses including Dabney and Marie Jackson.

On March 25th, while the grand jury was still in session, Charley Williams walked into t he office of Mr. Jarvis and said he had heard the officers were looking for him in connection with the case and he wanted to find out just what it was all about.  Although he was not ‘wanted,’ he volunteered to go before the grand jury when told what the Jackson girl had said in her confession.

All doubt was erased from the minds of the grand jury when just as a matter of record Marie Jackson was called into the room where they w ere sitting and asked to pick Williams out of a group standing with him. For the second time Marie Jackson showed clearly she had no idea who Charlie Williams was.

On March 26th the jury completed its investigation and returned an indictment against Marie Jackson on a charge of perjury.  Her case was set for April 4th.

Four hours after the indictment was returned, much to the interest of all concerned, Mary Vickery was married.  The ceremony was performed in the office of Mr. Jarvis by the Reverend Mr. H.C. Davis, pastor of the Baptist Church of God. The husband was C.E. Dempsey, twelve years her senior, whom she had known for some time.  The couple returned to the home of the bride’s parents following the ceremony. When the happy pair walked out of the office of the astonished attorney, Mary Vickery Dempsey re tired from this fantastic tale of the hills.

Another principal in the case passed out of the picture that same day. Condy Dabney returned to his family at Coal Creek.  It was a happy reunion between the man and his wife, his twelve-year-old son, Oscar, and nine-year-old daughter, Helen.  Words are inadequate to describe the gladness in the hearts of members of the family.

On April 4th the Circuit Court room at Harlan again was crowded to capacity.  There was a brief trial. A sullen, grim-faced mountain girl stood before Judge Forrester. In answer to the reading of the indictment she pleaded guilty.

Following the instructions from the judge the jury retired and in four minutes returned with its formal verdict of guilty and sentenced her to five years in the penitentiary, the maximum penalty under law.

 

Thus the tangled skeins in a web of grotesque circumstances were in a sense unraveled.  The innocent had been vindicated and the guilty punished.

But there are many things about the case today that officials of that mountain section still puzzle over.  The main question is: Whose body was found in the abandoned mine shaft and who was the perpetrator of the crime? Many believe it was the body of Mrs. Leila Cole, but this supposition has never been proven.

After all, the mystery reverts to the day that Deputy Marshal Metcalf and Deputy Sheriff Hensley made their gruesome discovery in the mine shaft!

With the thought that three years imprisonment in the penitentiary might have softened Marie Jackson to the point she would lift the veil of mystery that cloaked her inadequate explanation of her perjury against Condy Dabney, the writer on April 27th, 1930, went to the Reformatory at Frankfort.

In the presence of Acting Warden W.R. Roach and several newspapermen he talked to her for more than two hours.  Instead of finding a woman broken and meek the writer found one who had nursed a hatred for the man she had condemned through all the long days of her solitude and who declared in words couched in bitterness, ‘I will kill Condy Dabney if I ever meet him face to face!’

When asked if she knew how near Condy Dabney came to death at the hands of the jury because of her lies and whether she would have allowed him to go to his death had the death penalty been inflicted, she very deliberately said: ‘That’s what I wanted them to give him – the chair.  What do you think I told that story for? I would have been glad of it.’

She freely admitted she had manufactured the s tory deliberately in order to send him to his death in the electric hair and added that if she had had opportunity before telling the story she would have killed him herself.

No doubt the readers of True Detective Mysteries wonder at the woman’s boldness and callous attitude in making such a statement.  The writer was no less surprised in view of the fact she was told before the interview for what purpose anything she might say would be used. To show she was impressed that her statements would be written in a story for True Detective Mysteries, she chose her answers carefully and with due deliberation.

The only question she absolutely refused to answer was the one that was put to her repeatedly and that was: ‘What had Dabney done that caused you to desire to seek his death?’

‘I have never told that,’ she answered. ‘And I’m not going to tell it now. There’s no reason to tell you anything but the truth about this to you now.  I have only about two years more to stay in here and then I’ll be out. I’ll always feel the same way about Condy Dabney, and I suppose the only way I’ll ever come back to this place will be for me to meet up with him. If I ever do, I’ll get me a gun and kill him.  He hasn’t paid yet for what he did to me.’

She said that when the body was found that day in the mine, she knew it was not Mary Vickery. She said it was Leila Cole. She would not explain how she knew it was Mrs. Cole.

She evaded answering any questions as to whom she suspected of the woman’s murder.

That was about all. She said she had not decided whether she would go back to the mountain country or not.   Throughout the interview the girl spoke in a calm voice.  Her listeners were amazed at the venom and spite in the words of this twenty-four-year-old mountain girl who showed no sign of remorse for her deeds.

As the group left the cell house Warden Roach was heard to remark: ‘Well, they say that ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!’



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