Several of you know my new project which is to write several fictionalized stories (PRE 1900) about REAL murders in Montgomery County. I'm going to put one example on here -- let me know what you think. HOwever, MY REAL PROBLEM is ... I only have FOUR -- I'd like 4-6 more. Anyone know of any ???? PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I met a friend at the library today and he steered me toward one but I'd like MORE :) BTW -- this is the shortest and my fav :) Meet Me In Heaven by Karen Bazzani Zach My name is Delia. Tomorrow, my brother, John Coffee will hang for a double murder. He didn't do it. In my heart, I know John didn't do it. The adage, tall, dark and handsome portrays my brother, John. We were both born in Kentucky but after his father was killed toward the end of the Civil War, our dear mother decided to marry my father, George Matthis. I was their only child and they came on to Montgomery County, in Central Indiana. Our two brothers, Christian and Zeke and my father, all died of fever shortly after our arrival in Indiana. It just about killed mother too but knowing she was all John and I had left she fought for survival. Life was good for awhile, except we never had enough money. We were always the recipients of the poor baskets at the M.E. Church. I always wondered if that was why John joined church in 1876. It's not that John didn't believe, because he is a believer in the Lord, Heaven and Hell. In fact, he's firmly convinced that he will soon see our Mother in the great beyond, as she passed there three years ago. I think that's all that's kept John going these last few days. Reasons pile high pointing to my brother being not guilty of murder. I'll name a few and you see if you agree. For one, James and Mary (Hutchinson) McMullen were shot. My brother would never used a gun. He's too soft-hearted. John loved to go hunting for the camaraderie of being with Christian and Zeke but Christian would shake his head and say, "What good are ya' brother John, you wouldn't shoot a bear if he was attacking you. You're too tender-hearted for hunting." John never owned a gun in his life. We had a lever-action rifle his father had left at home that we used to hunt for food but when the fever took the boys and my father, Mother sold it knowing that John would never hurt anything or anyone. He told me that the Rankins insisted that he shoot Mrs. McMullen, "She ain't dun nuthin' to me. I won't do it," he told them. I have no doubt that happened. Another top reason is that the sheriff, doctors, lawyers and everyone involved says that this was a well-planned infraction of the law. I love John very much, but he's shy in brains and could never be a master plotter. Definitely, he's not the instigator! John in school could barely read and write and ciphering was out. Each night, I had to reteach him everything the teacher had taught us, even though I'm five years his junior. Nope, John could never have planned such a horrendous tragedy. Here's another. John's nye on lazy. The misdeed described at John's trial took much energy. Bashing in Jim McMullen's head, chasing down and shooting Mrs. McMullen, executing Jim, stealing their goods and firing their beautiful oak wood home is way too much work for my laid-back brother. Another thing is that John had no money and it was a proven fact that Jim McMullen always had a great deal of money in the bag that his wife had made special for keeping his cash. McMullen had even more than usual as he'd sold stock at Wingate the day before. If John had done the deed, why did they never find coins or cash on him or in his belongings? Simple. There was none given to him, nor did he steal any. Well, okay, he admits to taking a quarter from a table. Probably the most damaging evidence against John is that he had a pair of boots of Jim McMullen's. Jim was a tiny man with feet to match. My brother is thin and tall but his feet reflect his brain not his length. The boots fit to perfection. I'd not be in my right mind to try to convince you that John wasn't there the night of the McMullen tragedy, but no one could ever induce me that John pulled the trigger to end those poor soul's lives, so why should he hang? John helped put the noose around his own neck really by telling three different stories. There's reason for that too - a four-letter word - spelled F E A R and the fear-factor is James Dennis. The McMullen's neighbor, Peter Manson, said that there were two sets of tracks going by his home. That's proof that my brother could not have done the whole of the outlandish deeds alone, yet he's the only one to hang tomorrow, the only one to pay, and I'm more than sure that John's, the . what's the word . scapegoat for the Rankin gang, including their son-in-law James Dennis. Dennis, according to John, (and I believe him) after shooting the McMullens, pointed the gun at John, threatening, "If you tell, I'll kill you, too!" John had just witnessed proof that Dennis would indeed take a life. That's why John's first confession was that he'd worked alone. Later he added Dennis and still later indicated others. John was petrified with the thought that Dennis might be put in the same rotating jail cell with him. If the rotation was in the back corner, where the deputies could not see, there would be plenty of time to kill John, but Sheriff Harper has gotten to know John in the last few weeks and I think he truly believes him and didn't want another murder on his hands. Dr. Coulter of Wabash College had some fancy microscope that proved the spots on Dennis' trousers were human blood. Too bad the impressive scope couldn't prove whose blood. Dennis said that he cut himself shaving and wiped it on his pant leg. Odd, he has a beard - looked to me to be at least a year old - but no one questioned that, either. There was much speculation about Dennis' suspenders but his brother-in-law lied and said that he was with him when he purchased 'em back in '83; yet, McMullen's brother-in-law, Ben Hutchinson, one fine man, pointed the suspenders out saying that Jim McMullen had a pair just like them and that he wore them under his Sunday suit. The suspenders had white pearls. They were very different than any man's in the court room that day, purchased by someone with some money, and that's not Dennis. Again, no one questioned it. An inmate with Dennis stated that Dennis said that he did the work while John Coffee looked on. Dennis told James Morgan that they went to the house to talk, then he told McMullen to give him money. Only when Dennis told Jim McMullen that he'd kill him did McMullen hand over $43. Dennis beat him to where McMullen passed out, then went after Mary McMullen. The inmate, Morgan, verified that Dennis said that my brother was "too chicken to kill her," so why is it that Dennis' family verified his being away from home yet they lied where he was to let him go free while tomorrow my brother will die for a crime committed by others? I don't feel John's lawyers tried very hard. Dennis' worked day and night, calling in all types of witnesses sprouting about how nice Dennis was and how he was on his way to Indianapolis to see his poor wife who is in the insane asylum there. I suppose this was to purport his family ties. Well, I wish they'd ask why she's in there! Maybe she too is afeared of him! He's even more handsome than John, but about 10 years older. Taller, too, ranging to maybe 6'. Slightly graying with a bit of his temples shining his otherwise midnight black hair is cut to perfection. His pin striped red and white shirt with his little bowed tie and black suit and charming smile put him one up on my poor brother who even with his good looks could never afford such a marvelous get-up. John's lawyers called no one even after me and my husband and some neighbors and the ME Minister all begged for the stand. I was quite proud of John, though. The defense lawyers were merciless in their badgering. John looked them in the eye and never varied his stare. He answered their questions in truth. The verdict I'm sure did not surprise John. He's not afraid of being punished as his body was at the McMullen's home that night without a doubt, but he did not kill them, he did not steal but a pair of boots, and his one quarter of the more than $300 said to be taken. Is hanging justice for that? John's taking a nap, so I've been able to set my feelings to paper, but he's awakening, giving me a faint smile. I'll write more tomorrow after I've seen my brother one last time. There's another adage, "The third time's the charm." Not that seeing them try to hang my brother three times was a charming thing. In fact, it was the most horrible thing imaginable. John walked right up on the scaffolding to face his maker. A little of his bravery could be because of the soporific that Dr. Montague mixed up for him. He was happy that he got to play one last song on his harmonica, and play he did! I think all of Crawfordsville heard Abide with Me! John resisted quite a bit after his cell was rotated, he was lead out, but once in the open, he knew Mother would be watching and he listened to Elder Phillip's prayer. In the prayer, Phillips asked the Lord to listen mercifully because John professed himself not guilty! The Lord did listen but the Sheriff and his posse weren't hearing or choosing to see what was happening. The first indication was that very few refused to sign a petition of respite. This enlightened John. This was the time when he stated that he'd be happy to go to the gallows if the other four who were guilty went too. It did no good to have four-fifths of Montgomery County's signature on that document asking for a reprieve for John, because Governor Albert G. Porter refused it. Yet, how anyone could doubt John's innocence after the fool-proof one inch thick rope broke the first time is beyond my belief. Sherriff Alexander Harper had told the Crawfordsville Star that there was no danger of breaking as the noose had been made by Bontes in Cincinnati. Griffith's made the scaffold and it too was guaranteed. Several times the Sherriff's men tested the drop with large bags of sand while my brother John eyed them with interest. Over 200 invitations were sent by Sheriff Harper. Can you imagine spending our money to send out invitations for a hanging? They say it was simple, "Execution of John W. C. Coffee, at Crawfordsville, Indiana Friday 16 day of October 1885 Admit . Alexander Harper, Sheriff MC Ind." I didn't get one of those little pieces of paper, but John requested me to be there, so they could not bar me from the scene. Of course, now, I wish I'd not have gone. John was a shadow of his usual emaciated frame, looking like a skeleton marching to doom. When they placed his neck in the noose and dropped the bottom, John fell to the ground. The rope had broken. Blood oozed from his ears and I tried to go to him but was held back. When John came into consciousness and realized he was still alive, he asked to say some words, but the Sheriff would not allow it. This time, they had to drag John to the rope and again, it broke. Lord, have Mercy! Governor Porter, can't you see? Sheriff isn't it obvious? The crowd of not only the 200 invited guests but of the hundreds lining the streets began to jeer and ask for John to be taken down, but Harper knew it had to be done. Again, his assistants lifted John up by the arms, fixed the rope the third time and dropped John. Usually it takes just a few seconds to kill a man, whereas John dangled for almost ¼ of an hour before he finally stopped jerking and was peacefully asleep. The last words my brother spoke to me reflected the same thought of our mother's last words, "Live right so I can meet you in Heaven." I truly believe I will indeed see them both there as Mother was the best of souls and John's soul has more than paid for him being in the wrong place, with the wrong people at the wrong time. John Wesley Christopher Coffee, I will meet you in Heaven with our Mother and Fathers!