Somerset Murders E-Book

Nicola Sly

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Somerset Murders brings together numerous murderous tales that shocked not only the county but also made headlines throughout the country. They include the cases of Elizabeth and Betty Branch, a mother and daughter who beat a young servant girl to death in Hemington in 1740; 13-year-old Betty Trump, whose throat was cut while walking home at Buckland St Mary in 1823; factory worker Joan Turner, battered to death in Chard in 1829; George Watkins, killed in a bare knuckle fight outside the Running Horse pub in Yeovil in 1843; Constance Kent, who confessed in 1865 to killing her half-brother at Rode in 1860, nearly five years earlier; and elderly landlay, Mrs Emily Bowers, strangled in her bed in Middlezoy in 1947. Nicola Sly and John van der Kiste, co-authors of Cornish Murders in this series, have an encyclopedic knowledge of their subject. Their carefully researched, well-illustrated and enthralling text will appeal to anyone interested in the shady side of Somerset's history.

Leseprobe

Somerset

MURDERS

Nicola Sly & John Van der Kiste

First published in 2008 by Sutton Publishing Limited

Reprinted in 2010 by

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

Reprinted 2012

This ebook edition first published in 2013

All rights reserved

© Nicola Sly & John Van der Kiste, 2010, 2013

The right of Nicola Sly & John Van der Kiste to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

epub isbn 978 0 7524 8431 0

Original typesetting by The History Press

CONTENTS

Authors’ Note & Acknowledgements

1.

‘Good people, pray for me!’

Hemington, 1740

2.

‘I hope God and the world have forgiven me’

Over Stowey, 1789

3.

‘I am entirely innocent’

Buckland St Mary, 1823

4.

‘There are thieves in the house!’

Bath, 1828

5.

‘Not a fortnight longer! Mark my words’

Withypool, 1829

6.

‘Here’s a pretty bitch coming down the lane’

Chard, 1829

7.

‘Neither a murder nor a mystery’

Over Stratton, 1830

8.

‘I can’t bear to see it!’

Sandpit Hill, near Langport, 1835

9.

Bare-Knuckle Fight at the Running Horse

Yeovil, 1843

10.

‘What Martha’s already said goes for nothing’

Crewkerne, 1843

11.

‘It’s no use, I’ve done it’

Weston-super-Mare, 1844

12.

‘Ask her first if she believes in God?’

Bath, 1851

13.

‘I did it for love’

Frome, 1851

14.

‘We’ll find the body yet’

Simonsbath, 1858

15.

‘Nothing has ever been administered to her in her food’

Yeovil, 1860

16.

‘No one knew of my intention’

Rode, 1860

17.

‘Spare my wife’

Dundry, 1861

18.

A Policeman’s Lot

Yeovil, 1862

19.

‘Goodnight’

Ridgehill, 1883

20.

‘Yes, I done it!’

Henstridge, 1883

21.

‘You ought to be hanged’

Yeobridge, 1889

22.

‘You will have me here for something more serious than this’

North Petherton, 1913

23.

‘What’s the use of bamboozling about it?’

Porlock, 1914

24.

‘Go on, put down what you like’

West Hatch, 1933

25.

‘I shall be glad when the old bastard is out of the way’

Bath, 1933

26.

‘Stop worrying. It is all right’

Milborne Port, 1943

27.

‘Thank you’

Middlezoy, 1947

28.

‘One of the most terrible cases of murder I have known’

Wembdon, Bridgwater, 1950

29.

‘That is a frame-up, that is’

Bath, 1951/2

30.

‘The strife is o’er, the battle won’

Loxton, 1954

Bibliography & References

AUTHORS’ NOTE & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In researching accounts of true crime from earlier centuries, there are often minor discrepancies between different accounts, especially with regard to proper names. Jane Buttesworth, killed in 1740, is sometimes given as Jane Buttersworth, while her contemporary is alternatively recorded as Ann James and Ann Somers. Jane Walford, murdered in 1789, is sometimes named Jenny, and her husband John’s mother is also referred to on occasion as his stepmother. The factory where Joan Turner, murdered in 1829, used to work, was variously reported as Rist’s, Risk’s or Riste’s. Perhaps the greatest variation of all concerns the man hanged for the murder of Emma Davies in 1889. We have preferred the name Samuel Reyland, though it has also appeared as Reynald, Rylands and even Reynolds.

While writing this book, we have relied heavily on the work of previous authors in the field, all of whose relevant works are listed in the bibliography, as well as local and national newspapers, via microfilm and the internet. We would also like to acknowledge the assistance of the staff of the Somerset Local Studies Library; the Hope Inn, Bridgwater; and the White Hart Inn, Somerton.

Particular thanks are due to Richard Sly and John Higginson, Nicola’s husband and father, Kim and Kate Van der Kiste, John’s wife and mother, for their encouragement, advice, reading through the manuscript in draft form and assistance with the photography, and Mike Clapperton, for the provision of the photograph on page 107. Finally, particular thanks go to our editors at Sutton Publishing; Simon Fletcher, Matilda Pearce and Michelle Tilling.

1

‘GOOD PEOPLE, PRAY FOR ME!’

Hemington, 1740

Murders committed by women are comparatively rare, and those perpetrated by a mother and daughter pairing are almost unheard of, yet in 1740, a young servant girl was cruelly beaten to death by her mistress and her mistress’s daughter. The mother and daughter killers were Elizabeth and Betty Branch, who lived at Hemington, near Frome in East Somerset. Elizabeth originally came from a well-to-do Bristol family, her father an ex-surgeon, who had become a ship’s captain. She had been a singularly bad-tempered, violent child and, throughout her childhood, had been constantly warned by her mother that she would never find a husband if she continued to behave so terribly. However, despite her evil disposition, Elizabeth somehow managed to attract the attentions of a prosperous lawyer, Benjamin Branch.

They married and, in due course, Elizabeth gave birth to two children, a daughter, Betty, and a son, Parry. Elizabeth ruled the household with a rod of iron and, so brutal and sadistic was her treatment of the servants that it became almost impossible to find anyone willing to work in the Branch home. The gentle Benjamin was appalled and sickened by his wife’s cruelty – he died at an early age, sparking rumours among local gossips that his wife had poisoned him.

While Parry seemed to take after his father in his demeanour, Betty was truly her mother’s daughter. Mother and daughter bullied, tormented and physically abused the unfortunate servants who worked for them in their home. Once they beat a servant so severely that he lost control of his bowels, after which he was forced to eat his own excrement. Sadly, their extreme ill-treatment of their staff ultimately resulted in the tragic death of one of them, a homeless orphan named Jane Buttesworth.

Jane, who was then about 12-years-old, went to work for the Branch family in September 1739, her services having been arranged for the family by John Lawrence of Bristol. She started her new employment at the same time as another girl, Ann Somers and, while Ann was spirited and down-to-earth, more than capable of standing her corner, Jane was an altogether different type of girl. Having been told by Lawrence that she had been irrevocably apprenticed to the family, the meek and mild Jane resigned herself to her fate and tried her hardest to please her difficult employers, but her life was made a misery as, over the next few months, she was repeatedly verbally and physically chastised for making the slightest error. Ann often tried to protect her fellow servant, but was sharply told to mind her own business and threatened with similar punishments.

Matters came to a head on Tuesday 12 February 1740, when young Jane was sent to the village of Faulkland, half a mile away, on an errand to buy barm (a raising agent containing yeast cells and used for bread making and brewing) from Anthony Budd. She returned without the barm, telling her mistress that there was none for sale, but she had not bargained on William Budd, the son of the merchant, arriving at Highchurch Farm the very next day to help Parry chop wood. Mrs Branch asked William why his father had had no barm on the previous day, to which William replied that there had been plenty of barm but no customers. Jane was summoned to explain herself and swore that she was telling the truth, but Mrs Branch’s anger was not to be placated. Ann Somers was promptly dispatched to see Mr Budd in order to determine the truth of the matter.

Arriving at Budd’s house, Ann was met by Mrs Budd who assured her that Jane Buttesworth had not called to buy barm on the previous day. When this information was relayed to Betty Branch, she flew into a rage and began to beat the unfortunate Jane around the head with her fists and pinch her ears. She then ordered the girl into the kitchen, where she met with Elizabeth, who picked up a stout stick from a windowsill. Betty flung Jane to the floor, kneeling on her neck while her mother beat the poor girl until the blood poured through her clothes, deaf to her screams of pain and the frantic protests of Ann Somers. Next, Betty removed one of Jane’s shoes and beat the poor girl with the heel until she was ‘quite mazed and unable to stand’.

Finally, Jane managed to free herself as Betty stood up with the intention of delivering a few kicks to the servant girl’s prone body. Jane staggered out of the kitchen and into the hall but was soon recaptured and dragged back to the kitchen. There she was ordered to wash away the copious blood with which she was now covered, but almost as soon as she tried to obey, she collapsed in a swoon. An exasperated Mrs Branch ordered her to dust and sweep the parlour and Jane struggled to comply. However, when Ann felt safe enough to go to the parlour to check on her, she found the sobbing girl leaning dazedly on her broom, weak from loss of blood and too dizzy to move.

Ann ran to tell Mrs Branch that Jane was seriously hurt and needed help, but Elizabeth merely laughed, calling Ann a ‘Welsh bitch’ and saying that if Jane did not pull herself together and get on with her work she would get another beating. Ann half-carried Jane out into the yard so that she could get a breath of fresh air, but there she met Betty who threw a bucket of icy water over the two servants. Despite Ann’s protests that Jane was unable to work, Mrs Branch insisted that work she must, otherwise she would break her neck. By then it was time for Ann to milk the cows, which left Jane alone at the mercy of her malevolent mistresses.

When Ann returned from milking, she found Jane lying on the floor of the brew house, drifting in and out of consciousness. Ann helped her into a chair, but she was immediately reproached by Betty, who told Jane that if she did not get on with her work, then she would have salt rubbed into her wounds. Jane mumbled, ‘I will, Miss,’ but, despite her apparent willingness she was physically unable to comply with Betty’s demands. At her inaction, Betty promptly carried out her threat, pushing Jane to the floor and rubbing salt into the numerous cuts on the maid’s body. Jane continued to mutter, ‘I will, Miss,’ until eventually she was dragged into the kitchen and dressed in a clean cap, to hide the wounds on her head.

She was left to lie on the kitchen floor until early evening, when Ann tried to rouse her. Unable to wake her, Ann soon realised that Jane would never wake again and rushed to tell Mrs Branch that she was dead, but Elizabeth denied it, telling Ann to put her to bed so that she could recover. Ann and Jane usually shared a bed in the servants’ quarters and, when the day’s work was done, Ann was forced to spend an uncomfortable night with a rapidly stiffening corpse as a bedfellow.

After an (understandably) sleepless night, Ann again went to Mrs Branch. By now, Jane lay cold in her bed, and Elizabeth reluctantly acknowledged that the young girl was dead. Her body lay ignored all day, and on the following morning, William Budd was sent to Frome to procure a shroud and coffin. Ann was forced to attend to the corpse, instructed by Mrs Branch to wash away the dried blood from Jane’s body. Mrs Branch took away her blood-soaked clothes and concealed them in the apple store, wrapping the dead girl in the shroud to conceal her terrible injuries.

Jane’s body was buried in the churchyard of Hemington Church on the following Sunday, four days after the fatal beating. However, Mrs Branch aroused suspicion at the burial when she refused to let anyone see the body and repeatedly questioned the sexton, Francis Coombes, about the depth of the grave. As rumours spread throughout the village, two local men decided to dig up the corpse to determine the truth behind Jane’s sudden death.

Under the pretext of wanting to do some bell ringing, Robert Carver and John Marchant obtained a key to the church. On Wednesday 20 February, they exhumed the coffin of Jane Buttesworth and, with several other willing helpers, carried it into the church. Removing the long nails that secured the lid, they asked several of the village women to look at the body. Peeling back the shroud, all were appalled at the extent of Jane’s injuries and, locking the church door behind them, the men sought out churchwarden John Craddock and told him what they had found.

The police were summoned and Jane’s body was examined by a surgeon, who determined that she had died from blood loss as a result of her injuries, which included a fractured skull. Barely an inch of her body was not covered with bruises and, in the opinion of the surgeon, she had been ‘so barbarously and inhumanely used that it was enough to kill the stoutest man’. The Branch family, Ann Somers and John Lawrence, were immediately arrested on suspicion of her murder and detained at the nearby Faulkland Inn. A search of the Branch’s home revealed the bloody sticks used to beat Jane to death.

At the coroner’s inquest, held on 22 and 23 February, Ann Somers made a statement giving her account of the events leading up to Jane’s death. Her statement was supported by that of William Budd and as a result, Elizabeth and Betty Branch were committed to trial for the murder of their young employee. Proceedings opened at the Somerset Assizes on 31 March 1740. Elizabeth Branch, a woman of considerable means following the death of her husband, employed no less than eight lawyers to defend her, but her only real defence was her claim that all the prosecution witnesses were liars who had falsely accused her of murder in order to obtain money from her. When that argument failed to impress the judge, it was then alleged that Jane suffered from fits and had sustained her injuries falling down with a pail of water. It was next suggested that Ann Somers was responsible for causing Jane’s wounds or that the injuries had been made when the body was exhumed.

After six hours of listening to the evidence, the trial jurors came to their decision within minutes, without finding it necessary to withdraw from the court to deliberate. A verdict of guilty was passed on both Elizabeth and Betty Branch, at which Betty collapsed, remaining unconscious for some forty-five minutes. When warders tried to revive her with a drink, they were chided by her mother who cried out that it would be better to let her die there than live to be hanged.

The women received the obligatory death sentence and were promptly dispatched to Ilchester Gaol to await their execution, set for 3 May. Although Elizabeth petitioned for a reprieve as a matter of course, she showed little interest in the proceedings, seeming more concerned with discovering the facts about hanging and the positioning of the noose. Betty at least appeared to show some remorse and, on occasions, was permitted to leave the gaol in the company of a warder who took her to his house in nearby Limington. She expressed a desire to be buried in the pretty little churchyard at Limington after her execution, but her wish was eventually denied.

Once all hope of a reprieve was lost, Elizabeth Branch requested that the execution should take place in the early morning, in the hope that the early hour would deter the arrival of many spectators. However, when the execution party arrived at the site, it was to discover that part of the gallows had been destroyed. Anxious to get the hanging over as soon as possible, Elizabeth suggested that a nearby tree could be used, but the gibbet was quickly repaired and, having learned the mechanics of hanging while incarcerated, Elizabeth herself fitted the noose around her daughter’s neck.

Elizabeth Branch’s address to the few spectators who had braved the early morning was a mixture of remorse and excuses for her crime. She admitted to striking her maid, but argued that since this was not done with the intention of killing her, then the sentence passed upon her was unjust. Her biggest regret seemed to be that her behaviour had rubbed off on Betty, bringing her to the gallows to face the same punishment. Betty also made a speech in which she rued being trained while young to follow the paths of cruelty and barbarity. She asked that her unhappy end act as a warning to others to avoid like crimes and entreated the small crowd; ‘Good people, pray for me!’

The bodies of Elizabeth and Betty Branch were interred in Ilchester churchyard. Tragically, it came to light only after her murder that the unfortunate Jane Buttesworth had indeed fulfilled her final errand and had called at the Budd’s premises to buy barm, as requested. Although Margaret Budd had initially insisted that Jane had not called, it emerged that the girl had been sent on her errand without any money and had been refused credit by Mrs Budd. It speaks volumes of Elizabeth Branch’s legendary temper that Jane felt unable to mention this fact as she was being viciously beaten to death for her failings, and that Margaret Budd had been so afraid of the consequences of denying the girl credit that she had told a lie which ultimately led to the horrific death of an innocent child.

2

‘I HOPE GOD AND THE WORLD HAVE FORGIVEN ME’

Over Stowey, 1789

In the Quantock hills, high above the village of Over Stowey, threre is a well-known and popular beauty spot. However, its sinister name suggests anything but beauty. Since a shocking event that occurred there over two centuries ago, it has always been known as ‘Dead Woman’s Ditch’.

In 1765, John Walford was born at Over Stowey, the son of a collier (as the makers of charcoal from wood were then known). He grew up to be a good-looking, popular, even-tempered young man, and followed his father into the charcoal business, sometimes supplementing his income by working as a casual farm labourer in the summer. When he fell in love, the object of his affections could be said to have been a cut above the illiterate but hardworking manual worker. Ann Rice, who came from the neighbouring village of Nether Stowey, was the youngest of four daughters of a prosperous miller and his wife. She and John were very much in love and there was an understanding between them that one day they would be married.

The trade of charcoal maker was a lonely one, with little free time for courting. John spent most of the week living in the woods, in a makeshift shelter that he had constructed from poles and turf, rarely coming into contact with other people. He cut and collected timber, then closely supervised it as it burned in a turf-covered pit. The pit remained alight for four or five days, during which time it needed tending every couple of hours, and when he could snatch a little sleep, John simply curled up fully clothed on a bed of straw in his hut. His only food during the week was bread and cheese, his only drink, water from the streams. Every Monday he would carry a half-peck loaf weighing almost 9lbs and 2lbs of cheese into the forest for sustenance. He returned home every Saturday night to eat a hot meal, drink with his friends and catch up with some much needed sleep, before attending church on Sundays.

Into John’s isolated life came Jane Shorney, the daughter of another charcoal burner. She was described as ‘a poor stupid creature, almost an idiot; yet possessing a little kind of craftiness…an ordinary squat person, disgustingly dirty, and slovenly in her dress.’ Jane set her cap at John and took to deliberately seeking him out in the woods while she was supposed to be gathering wood for the fire. For a lonely and virile young man, totally devoid of female company, the outcome of her visits was almost inevitable. She gave birth to a son in 1785 and named John as the baby’s father. John was soon taken into custody by the parish officers and given an ultimatum; he must either marry Jane or pay for the child’s support. His mother, Ann, stepped in and offered to help, thus effectively letting John off the hook. In the following year Jane gave birth to a daughter, allegedly fathered by John’s brother, William.

Dead Woman’s Ditch. (© Nicola Sly)

Ann Rice was obviously prepared to forgive and forget, as the banns were read for her marriage to John in 1787. However, John’s mother, who until then had approved of the match between her son and his socially superior girlfriend, now seemed jealous that Ann was replacing her in John’s affections. Having previously welcomed the girl into her home, she suddenly took a violent dislike to her; a situation not helped by the fact that Ann’s father, George, had relinquished his mill, and as a result lost some of his income and social standing. Perhaps she threatened to withdraw her support of John’s illegitimate child, or maybe he simply did not want to go against his mother’s wishes, but the engagement between John and Ann Rice was broken off and Ann went into service. However, she continued to meet John secretly and eventually she too became pregnant.

Meanwhile, no doubt heartened by the news of his broken engagement, Jane Shorney resumed her prolonged seduction of John. When she was expecting his second child, John had no choice but to marry her.

The wedding took place on 18 June 1789 and, once married, 24-year-old John took a new job as a husbandman, which left him free to return home to his wife every night at the cottage they shared in the nearby village of Biscombe. Although their union seemed peaceful on the surface, John felt so trapped by his marriage that he was soon contemplating either moving to London or emigrating to a foreign country. It was only a lack of ready money that kept him tied to Somerset and to a wife he resented, but he planned to sell his horse and his bed in order to raise funds to leave. According to William Bishop, a friend of John’s who had given Jane away at their wedding, John told him that he would sooner see the Devil in his house than his new wife, saying, ‘I must either murder her or go from her.’ Jane, it is said, constantly taunted her husband about his true love, Ann, and her spiteful remarks and constant criticism of him made his life a misery.

Jane got into the habit of visiting either her mother or her nearby neighbours for long periods of time, leaving John alone in the house to brood. On 5 July, only three weeks after his wedding, he came home and once again found his wife absent. He went next door to see if she was with their neighbours and to pick up his door key, and was invited in for supper, passing a couple of hours with the Rich family before going home to wait for his wife. On her return, she suggested a visit to the Castle of Comfort public house in the nearby village of Doddington to buy cider. John gave her a shilling from his weekly wage of 6s to do so, but as she was afraid of walking in the dark and reluctant to go alone, Jane persuaded him to accompany her. He returned home alone at 12.30 a.m. the following morning, and he was observed creeping barefoot through the darkness by two of the Rich sisters who were waiting up for another sister.

The Castle of Comfort Inn, Doddington. (© Nicola Sly)

Early the following morning, two children noticed blood running from beneath a gate. They reported their find to two men who lived nearby, and soon the body of Jane Walford was found at the place now known as Dead Woman’s Ditch.

When told of the gruesome discovery, John expressed shock and surprise. He was asked to view the body but declared that he could not bear to see it, so he set off in the opposite direction towards his mother-in-law’s house, where he persuaded her to accompany him to the gruesome site. Arriving at the scene of the murder, he glanced briefly at the corpse before staggering back in distress. Questioned by a local businessman, Thomas Poole, Walford maintained that his wife had left their cottage the previous evening to buy cider. He was asked to search the body to see if the coin he had given her was still there and, having first been reluctant to approach his dead wife, eventually made a great show of searching her pockets for the shilling. When it could not be found, he suggested that his wife had been attacked and robbed. However, his actions that morning aroused considerable suspicion.

On leaving his house to view the body, he met his brother William, whom he told that his wife had ‘cut her throat’. This detail had not yet been mentioned to the widower, and was something he would not have known if he had played no part in Jane’s demise. A search of Walford’s cottage produced a small bloodstained pocket knife. The breeches that he had been wearing on the previous night were also heavily stained with blood and there, forgotten in the pocket, was a shilling. A pair of mud-stained stockings was found concealed between the ceiling and thatch of the cottage.

Walford was questioned about his clasp knife, which he claimed to have lent to his brother, William. The latter vehemently denied this and immediately Walford changed his story, saying that he had given the knife to a little boy whose name he could not remember. The knife was found on the following day, bearing traces of dried blood, concealed beneath a window seat in the cottage.

Although he initially denied killing Jane, the evidence against Walford was overwhelming and he soon confessed to her murder. During their trip to the Castle of Comfort Inn, Jane had provoked yet another argument and pushed him too far. Ever mindful of having forsaken his beloved Ann for this nagging harridan, something inside him finally snapped. He grabbed her by the throat and shook her, then grabbed a post from a hedge and beat her until she fell unconscious, fracturing her skull in the process. Finally he pulled out a knife and slit her throat. Realising that he had killed her, he tried to drag her body to a disused mineshaft but, finding the pregnant corpse too heavy to move, he eventually left it in the ditch. Having first retrieved the shilling that he had given her earlier, he then proceeded to conceal Jane’s body, covering it with stones, branches and leaves.

In the light of his confession to the murder, John’s subsequent trial at Bridgwater, which opened on 18 August 1789, lasted only three hours before he was officially pronounced guilty and sentenced to death. The presiding judge, Lord Chief Justice Kenyon, was clearly sympathetic towards the prisoner, whom he appeared to view as a quiet and decent man pushed beyond his limits. While Walford showed no emotion, Kenyon wept as he pronounced the death sentence but, despite his obvious reticence, he was under pressure from local residents to punish Walford and deliver the ultimate penalty. Jane’s murder came at a time when there had been several violent crimes in the area in the preceding few years. The community demanded that John Walford should be made an example of, asking that he should be hung from a gibbet at the place where his wife’s body was found, his body subsequently caged and left for all to see. This, they felt, would act as a deterrent to anyone else contemplating violence in the future.

Memorial to Jane Walford at Doddington. (© Nicola Sly)

Accordingly, next day John was shackled around his neck, wrists and ankles and taken by cart to the execution site. A crowd of almost 3,000 villagers gathered to watch the hanging, but on John’s arrival at Dead Woman’s Ditch, it became apparent that the construction of the gibbet was not yet finished. He was taken to a nearby inn, The Globe at Nether Stowey, for a drink of ale and a meal of bread while the preparations for his death were completed.

As he waited, the crowd parted and a lone young woman approached the prisoner. It was John’s first love, Ann Rice. Out of respect, the majority of the crowd turned their backs as a member of the execution party assisted her onto the cart. The couple were allowed to talk for a few minutes before Ann leaned forward, intending to give John a farewell kiss. The executioner would not allow this and placed his arm between them, and then lifted Ann gently from the cart.

John joined in a recital of the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostles’ Creed before finally confessing his guilt to the assembled crowd. He admitted murdering his wife but swore that the murder was done ‘without foreintending it.’ He then said, ‘I hope God and the world have forgiven me’, before a brisk slap to the horse’s rump set the cart in motion, leaving his body dangling by the neck at the rope’s end.

John’s body was subsequently caged and hoisted to the top of the 30ft-high gibbet, where it remained as an example to others until exactly a year to the day after the murder, when the cage finally fell to the ground. Cruelly, this spectacle was within clear view of John’s childhood home where his parents still lived. Every time they opened their front door, they were greeted by the sight of their son’s body, slowly decaying as the days passed by. Ravaged by crows and blowflies, his remains were eventually buried, still in their metal cage, at the foot of the gibbet. The execution site is still marked on maps of the area as ‘Walford’s Gibbet’.

Leigh Woods, near Bristol.

Ann Rice gave birth to Walford’s daughter in November 1789, and named her Sarah. Within three months the young mother was dead.

Almost two centuries later, the site was associated with another murder. In 1988 the remains of a young Bristol woman, Shirley Banks, were located at Dead Woman’s Ditch. They had been placed there by John David Guise Cannan, the man later found guilty of killing her in Leigh Woods near Bristol. In 2001 the same area was extensively searched in the hope of finding the body of Suzy Lamplugh, an estate agent missing since 1986 and now presumed dead. That search was not successful and Suzy remains officially missing.

3

‘I AM ENTIRELY INNOCENT’

Buckland St Mary, 1823

On Thursday 20 February 1823, 13-year-old Betty Trump set out on a journey from which she never returned. She had been living with her grandparents at Buckland St Mary for a year, and within the last fortnight, her mother, Elizabeth, and father, Samuel, had moved to the village to join her. Betty had been asked to go and visit her older sister, Sarah, who had remained in Winsham when the rest of the family moved, to see if she could live with her.

It was a fine morning when Betty began to walk the eight miles to Winsham. She took the turnpike road from Taunton to Chard to the crossroads with the Ilminster to Honiton road, continued through Street Ash to Combe St Nicholas, then Chard and finally Winsham. On her return through Chard she bought some plates, needles and thread, and a pap spoon, before continuing her homeward journey. When she had not reached Buckland St Mary by nightfall, her parents were not unduly worried. A 16 mile walk was a long one for a 13-year-old to make in one day. However, as she had not returned by Saturday morning, they sent her sister, Ann to Winsham, and were horrified to learn on her return that Betty had left Sarah’s house by mid-afternoon on Thursday.

Samuel and Elizabeth immediately retraced Betty’s footsteps. Before darkness forced them to abandon the search for their daughter, they discovered that she had done her shopping in Chard and had later been seen walking through Combe St Nicholas on her way home. A search party was organised, and as dawn broke, Samuel and a number of friends and relatives began to comb the area for any sign of Betty. At about 7 a.m., her body was found in a wooded area known as Coppice Burrows, about 50yds from the Taunton to Chard road. Her throat had been viciously cut, yet her body seemed unusually peaceful. There were no signs of a struggle, her clothing was undisturbed and her shopping basket was neatly placed beside her, its contents untouched.

Her body was taken to her father’s house and examined by John Wheadon, a surgeon from Chard. Although unsure whether Betty had been sexually molested or not, Wheadon said that her throat had been cut with a sharp instrument, such as a knife or a billhook, and that more than one person could have carried out the attack.