Lizzie

8: New Bedford — 1893

“What is your full name?”

“Bridget Sullivan.”

“And were you in the Borden household sometimes called Maggie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“By whom were you called Maggie? By the whole family?”

“No, sir.”

“By whom?”

“By Lizzie and Emma.”

“By Miss Emma and Miss Lizzie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But that was not unpleasant to you?”

“No, sir, it was not.”

“Not at all offensive?”

“No, sir.”

“Did not cause any ill feeling or trouble?”

“No, sir.”

“Did Mr. and Mrs. Borden call you by some other name?”

“Yes, sir. Called me by my own, right name.”

“Won’t you be kind enough to tell us how old you are, Miss Sullivan?”

“Twenty-six years old.”

“I believe you’ve never been married.”

“No, sir.”

“How long have you been in this country?”

“Six years last May... seven years last May.”

“And where were you born?”

“In Ireland.”

“And came here seven years ago?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Came to what part of this country?”

“I came to Newport.”

“Newport, Rhode Island?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you have any folks here when you came here?”

“No, sir.”

“Father, mother, brother or sisters?”

“No, sir.”

“And have you any here now?”

“No, sir. I ain’t got no folks here, no more than relations.”

“When you went to Newport, did you stay there quite a while?”

“Twelve months.”

“And from Newport, where did you go?”

“I went out to South Bethlehem.”

“That was in Pennsylvania?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When did you come to Fall River?”

“I came there four years — I was two years out when I came to Fall River. Two years in America, when I came to Fall River.”

“Did you go to the Bordens the first place in Fall River?”

“No, sir, I went to Mrs. Reed.”

“When did you go to work for Mr. Borden?”

... I was there two years and nine months at the time of his death. There wasn’t any other domestic servant there while I was there. There was a man on the farm who used to come there and do chores, and go back again. His first name was Alfred. I don’t know his last name, I never asked him. My general duties in the household were washing, ironing and cooking, with sweeping. I had no care of any of the chambers except my own. I slept in the third story of the house, right over Mr. Borden’s room, which is right over the kitchen. I don’t know who did the chamber work in Mr. Borden’s room and Mrs. Borden’s room. Themselves did it. I don’t know which of them. I didn’t do it, and neither of the daughters did it.

I don’t know who took charge of the room in the front part of the house, either. When Miss Emma was home, she done it. When Mr. Morse was there, and when Mrs. Borden had any of her friends there, I guess she done it, or helped do it. That is, as far as I can remember. The rooms belonging to the daughters, themselves took care of them, as far as I know. I didn’t have anything to do with the rooms, nothing of any kind to do with any bedroom.

I never had any trouble there in the family. I liked the place. As far as I know, they liked me, too. I never saw anything out of the way. Never saw any conflict in the family. Never saw any quarreling or anything of that kind. Miss Lizzie always spoke to Mrs. Borden when Mrs. Borden talked to her. There was not, so far as I know, any trouble that morning of the fourth. I did not see any trouble with the family.

I felt kind of a dull headache as I got up that morning. I got up at a quarter past six. I have a timepiece in my room, a clock, one of them little round clocks. I didn’t look at the clock in my room, but I looked when I came down to the kitchen. There’s a clock there. It was a quarter past six when I came down. I went downcellar then, and brought up some wood to start my fire, went down and got some coal. Brought that up in the coal hod. Then I unlocked the door, and took in the milk can, and put a pan out for the iceman and a pitcher with some water in it. The locks were just the same way as I’d left them the night before. After I’d taken in my milk and put out my pan for the iceman, I hooked the screen door, left the panel door open.

Before anyone came downstairs, I started my work around the kitchen, getting ready for breakfast. I had clothes on the clotheshorse, I suppose I took them down, as I generally did. Mrs. Borden was the first one appeared on that Thursday morning. I was in the kitchen, and she came through the back entry, downstairs from her bedroom. After she came down, she gave me directions for breakfast. Might have been twenty minutes of seven, or half past six. I can’t tell the time, for I never noticed it. Mr. Borden came downstairs, down the back stairway from his bedroom, no more than five minutes later, I don’t think. He went into the sitting room and put a key on the shelf there. The key of his bedroom door. He ordinarily kept that in the sitting room, on the shelf. Then he came out into the kitchen, put a dressing coat on, as far as I think, and went outdoors. Took his slop pail outdoors. He emptied the slop pail and unlocked the barn, and went into the barn. Then he went to the yard where the pear tree was, and brought in a basket of pears that he picked off the ground. I can’t say whether he hooked the screen door or not. He washed up in the kitchen and got ready for breakfast. Up to that time, I hadn’t seen anyone but Mr. and Mrs. Borden. Not until I put the breakfast on the table and Mr. Morse sat down to breakfast.

There was some mutton for breakfast that morning. And some broth and johnnycakes, coffee and cookies. The broth was made of mutton. It might have been a quarter past seven when they sat down to breakfast, I can’t exactly tell the time. While breakfast was going on, I was around the kitchen cleaning up things. I don’t know exactly what I was doing. I’d finished my ironing the day before, and put away the clothes. I guess they must have gone in the sitting room after breakfast. The bell from the table rang, and when I went in there was nobody in the dining room. So I sat down and had my breakfast. Then I took the dishes off out of the dining room and brought them out in the kitchen and began washing them. The next I remember to see was Mr. Borden and Mr. Morse going out the back entry, the back door. Mr. Morse went out, but Mr. Borden returned. He came to the sink, and he cleaned his teeth in the sink, and after that he took a bowl, a big bowl, and filled it with water, and took it up to his room. He had the key in his hand as he went up with the pitcher, took it off the shelf in the sitting room.

I was washing the dishes at the sink when Miss Lizzie came through. It was no more than five minutes later, I think. I don’t remember how the time was. She came from the sitting room, and through the kitchen, and she left down the slop pail, and I asked her what did she want for breakfast. She said she didn’t know as she wanted any breakfast, but she guessed she would have something, she would have some coffee and cookies. She got some coffee, got her cup and saucer and got some coffee. And I went out in the backyard, and she was getting her own breakfast. Mr. Borden hadn’t come back down again. The screen door was hooked, and of course I unhooked it when I went out.

I went out because I had a sick headache and I was sick to my stomach. I went out to vomit. In the back yard. I can’t tell how long I was out there. Maybe ten minutes, maybe fifteen. I didn’t see Mr. Borden again after he went up to his room with the water. I don’t know where he’d gone in the meantime. When I got back in the kitchen, I completed washing my dishes. Some of them was washed, but all of them wasn’t, and I finished them and took them in the dining room, and I got them completed, and Mrs. Borden was there as I was fixing my dining-room table, and she asked me if I had anything to do this morning. I said no, not particular, if she had anything to do for me. She said she wanted the windows washed. I asked her how, and she said, “Inside and out both. They’re awful dirty.” She was dusting, had a feather duster in her hand, dusting between the sitting room and dining room, the door.

I didn’t see Miss Lizzie anywhere at that time. I don’t remember to see her. I can’t exactly tell the time, but I think it was about nine o’clock...

My full name is Adelaide B. Churchill. I’m unmarried at the present time, I’m a widow. I’ve been a resident of Fall River for forty-three years and some months. With the exception of about six months, I’ve lived at my present residence all my life, forty-three years and some months, the house I was born in. It’s called the Mayor Buffinton house, after my father, Edward P. Buffinton. It’s the house next north of the Borden house. I occupy the whole house, live there with my mother, sister, son, niece and the man that works for us.

I’ve known the Borden family for the past twenty years. Been on terms of social relations with them, calling backwards and forwards. I can perhaps best describe Mr. Borden as tall and straight... a tall, straight man. Mrs. Borden was very fleshy, I can’t think she was as tall as I am, not any taller, A short, heavy woman.

On the morning of August fourth, 1892, I first saw Mr. Borden at about nine o’clock or so, somewhere along there, I can’t tell just exactly. I saw him from my kitchen. He was standing by the steps. Not on the steps, but on the walk by the steps. He wasn’t in motion, he was just standing. On the side of the house toward the barn.

“Can you tell me, Miss Sullivan, what you did after you received this direction from Mrs. Borden? Where did you go and what did you begin to do?”

“I was out in the kitchen.”

“What were you doing in the kitchen?”

“Oh, I was cleaning off my stove and putting things in their places and so forth. And when I got ready, I went in the dining room and sitting room and...”

... left down the windows which I was going to wash and went downcellar and got a pail for to take some water. The windows was up, and left down the windows. There was no curtains there. The shutters was open at the bottom, I remember. I didn’t see anybody there when I went in the dining room and sitting room to close the windows. I got a wooden pail downcellar, came upstairs, and in the kitchen closet I found a brush which was to wash the windows with. I filled my pail with water in the sink and took it outdoors. As I was outside the back door, Lizzie Borden appeared in the back entry and said, “Maggie, are you going to wash the windows?”

I said, “Yes. You needn’t lock the door, I’ll be out around here. But you can lock it if you want to. I can get the water in the barn.” She made no reply to that, but she didn’t hook the door. I don’t know where she went then. I went to the barn to get the handle for the brush. It was in the barn, right in one of the stalls. On the first floor of the barn. Before I started to wash the windows, as I had the water and brush, Mrs. Kelly’s girl appeared, and I was talking to her at the fence...

My name is Abraham G. Hart. I am treasurer of the Union Savings Bank in Fall River. The bank is situated in what is sometimes called Market Square, North Main Street, a few rods from the City Hall. Upon the east side of North Main Street, just north of City Hall.

Mr. Borden was president of the bank for four or five years before he died. I was acquainted with him for forty years or more. On the morning of the homicides, Mr. Borden came into the bank as was his usual custom in the morning, about half-past nine. It wouldn’t vary but a few minutes from that time, I think, though I don’t think I looked at any timepiece. To my sight that morning, Mr. Borden did not seem in the usual health. I think he was under the weather, as we say. He did not look as well as usual. He remained there about five minutes, no more than seven. There’s another bank in the same building. The National Union Bank, a separate organization from the savings bank.

My name is John T. Burrill, my occupation is cashier of the National Union Bank, in the same building as the Union Savings Bank. Mr. Borden was a stockholder and depositor at my bank. On the morning of August fourth, I saw him in the bank, in front of the counter where I work. I saw him in conversation with Mr. Hart and a colored man who was there in regard to a loan. That is Mr. Abraham Hart, the last witness. I think it must have been between quarter-past nine and quarter-to ten.

My name is Everett Cook, I’m cashier of the First National Bank of Fall River. The bank is situated on North Main Street, between the Union Savings Bank and the Mellen House, on the other side of the street from the Union Savings Bank. The Trust Company is in the same building, behind the same counter. Mr. Borden was a director of the Trust Company, and Miss Lizzie A. Borden had an account there at the time. On August fourth, 1892, her balance was $172.75.

I transacted some business with Mr. Borden that morning. He came into the bank at about a quarter of ten. There was a clock, and I should say about that time I had the right of way on the counter, that morning, and I glanced at the clock, and I should fix the time about quarter of ten.

“It is agreed, if Your Honors please,” Knowlton said, “to save calling a number of witnesses...”

“I’ll state what we agreed to,” Robinson said. “For the purposes of this trial, Your Honors, the defendant having no knowledge in regard to a will or otherwise — so far as is now ascertained — it is agreed that the deceased was intestate. Also, without any further inquiries, that the amount of the property in the name of Andrew J. Borden at the time of his death may be taken to be from two hundred and fifty to three hundred thousand dollars.”

“That is agreeable to us,” Knowlton said. “That saves calling a number of witnesses.”

My name is Delia S. Manley, I live in Fall River. At 203 Second Street. Lived there for four years, and am familiar with the premises about the Borden House, though I did not know Mr. Borden while he was alive. But I do know where he lived. And I know the Kelly house, too. My sister-in-law occupies that house at this time. I happened to pass by the Borden house on the morning of the murders. This was either at a quarter of ten, or ten minutes of ten.

A man was standing in the north gateway, dressed in light clothes. I should say he was a young man. I didn’t look at him sufficient to describe his features at all. He was standing in the gateway, leaning his left arm on the gatepost. The man was not Andrew J. Borden. Nor was it John Morse, who I saw in the District Court below. It was not as old a man as that. I’d never seen this man before. He was standing there, seeming to be looking at us, and taking in what we were talking about, I should judge. By us, I mean, Mrs. Hart of Tiverton, she was with me. We were both going down the street together. We stopped there to see some pond lilies that a young fellow had in a carriage. The carriage had stopped between the two houses — between the Borden house and the Churchill house. A little nearer the Borden house than the Churchill house.

I first noticed the man when I was coming from the street back onto the sidewalk. The team stopped, and I went back of the team to see those pond lilies, and as I was coming back on the sidewalk, that was when I saw this man. Standing in this gateway, resting his arm upon this gatepost. And of course, as I stepped back from the carriage onto the sidewalk, I came nearly face to face with him, not exactly.

I couldn’t say how long the man stood there, for all I saw of him was just — I stepped onto the sidewalk and saw him, and I went right away. The first I saw of him, he was standing there. And the last I saw of him, he was standing there. Quietly. In full view of everybody. And looking right toward me. I didn’t know who he was. I should say he was a man about thirty, as near as I could judge. I noticed nothing out of the way about him. He had nothing in his hand that I noticed.

My name is Sarah R. Hart, I live in Tiverton, near Adamsville. Live on a farm there, but I used to live in Fall River, ten years ago. I lived there for fifteen or twenty years. On Second Street most of the time, so that I’m very familiar with Second Street. I knew Andrew J. Borden by sight when he was alive, but I wasn’t particularly acquainted with him.

I was on Second Street the day of the murders.

I passed by the Borden house near ten o’clock. I think somewhere near ten minutes to ten. I was with my sister, Mrs. Delia Manley. We had occasion to stop near the gate of the Borden house, the north gate. I stopped to speak to my nephew, who was in a carriage. I stepped from the sidewalk to the back of the carriage to get some pond lilies. The pond lilies were in a tub in the back of the carriage. I noticed someone in the gateway, I should judge he was somewhere near thirty years of age. He was not Mr. Borden. He was standing, resting his head on his left elbow, and his elbow on the south post of the gateway. He was looking at me, as I thought, and then turned and looked at the street as though he were uneasy trying to pry into my business. I was there five minutes, and he was there when I went away, down toward Borden Street. From there onto Main, in time to catch the ten o’clock car for the north. It comes down Main Street and stops there by the City Hall. It left City Hall as the clock was striking ten. I can fix the time as of ten minutes of ten when I saw him because I took the horsecar at ten o’clock.

My name is George A. Pettee. I’ve lived in Fall River for fifty-four years. I knew Andrew Borden since I was a young boy. I used to live in the Borden house. Twenty-two years ago last March. Lived in the upper part. I was the tenant, or one of the tenants, preceding Mr. Borden.

On the morning of the fourth of August last year, I was passing the house sometime, I should think, about ten o’clock. Bridget Sullivan stood in front of the house, nearly opposite the front door. She had a pail and dipper and brush with her. I thought she had been washing windows.

My full name is Jonathan Clegg. My business is hatter and gents’ furnishings. On August fourth, 1892, my place of business was at Number 6 North Main Street. With reference to the Union Savings Bank, it might have been fifty yards, the opposite side of the street. I saw Mr. Borden on the opposite side of the street that morning, and called him into the store. I wished to see him that morning. I was wanting to see him specially that morning.

I was having some dealings with him with reference to hiring another store. I had already hired it. I wanted to see him to make arrangements. I had gone to Mr. Borden’s house to visit him with reference to this store. Twice. On Tuesday, the second of August, and on the following day, Wednesday. I was there the two days preceding the homicide. Mr. Borden let me in the first time. Bridget let me in the second time. I remained in the house with him, well, about ten minutes. The subject of our conversation was hiring the store.

On the morning of August fourth, Mr. Borden left my shop at exactly twenty-nine minutes past ten. Just as he left me, I looked at the City Hall clock.

I never saw him alive again.

My name is Benjamin J. Handy. I’m a physician in Fall River, been practicing there nearly the whole of twenty years. I know where the Andrew J. Borden house is, and I remember the day of the murders. I went by that house on the morning of the murders. At about half-past ten, a little after probably.

At that time, I saw a person in the vicinity of the house. I didn’t know who he was. A medium-sized man of very pale complexion, with his eyes fixed upon the sidewalk, passing slowly toward the south. In reference to the Borden house, as near I can tell, he was opposite a space between the Kelly house and Mr. Wade’s store. What attracted my attention to him in the first place, he was a very pale individual, paler than common. And he was acting strangely.

I turned in my carriage to watch him as I drove by, to look at him. I had a faint idea that I’d seen him on Second Street some days before. It was not Thomas Bowles that works for Mrs. Churchill and used to work for me. Nor was it George L. Douglass that used to keep the stable on Second Street, just above Spring. I know him well, and it wasn’t he. This man was dressed in a light suit of clothes. He was well dressed, collar and necktie. He seemed to be agitated about something or other. Seemed to be moving, swaying — rolling possibly — a little. Not staggering, but I thought it more than ordinary movement.

I think I’d seen him before that day. I wouldn’t state it as a fact, but I think I may have seen him before, on some other day, on the same street. On that day, I hadn’t seen him before. That was the only time I saw him on that day. Somewhere between twenty minutes past ten and twenty minutes of eleven.

My name is Joseph Shortsleeves, I’m a carpenter by trade. On the fourth of August, 1892, I saw Mr. Borden coming from the direction of the shop Mr. Clegg then occupied, toward where we was working on the new store Mr. Clegg had hired. We were making changes in the front windows, lowering them down. He came into the front door, went to the back part of the store, picked up a lock that had been on the front store door. It was all broken to pieces. He looked at it, laid it down again, went upstairs, then went from the back part of the shop up to the front part of the shop upstairs over our head. He was there a few moments, and came down again and picked the lock up and walked out. In the course of all this, we exchanged no words.

He went toward the west across the road, partways across Main Street. Then he came back, then turned around and looked at us. Says I, “Good morning, Mr. Borden,” and says he, “Good morning to you.” As near as I can remember, this was between half-past ten and quarter to eleven. I had a watch in my pocket, and I had the City Hall to look at, but I had no occasion to look at a timepiece. My testimony as to the time is an estimate. Mr. Mather was at work with me that day. James Mather.

On the fourth day of August, 1892, I was working up in Jonathan Clegg’s store, fixing it for him, the store he was going to occupy. I was working with Mr. Shortsleeves, the last witness who came in here. We were going to drop the front windows down lower, near that sidewalk. Working on the outside, pretty near all the time. The City Hall clock was in my view while we were working.

Mr. Borden went inside the store and picked up a lock, and then went out again. He turned in the direction of Spring Street. I was on the outside, so I could see him. He went away at about twenty minutes of eleven. I looked at the City Hall clock.

My name is Caroline Kelly. I’m married, the wife of Dr. Kelly of Fall River. We live in the next house to the south of the Borden house, and were living there on August fourth of last year. It was a very warm day, a pleasant day. I was about the house that morning, attending to ordinary household duties, and had an engagement to go downtown, to the dentist’s. Before I started downtown, I consulted the kitchen clock, and then went right out. The kitchen clock showed about twenty-eight minutes of eleven.

When I got out on the street, I turned to the right and north, downhill. And in going down the hill, I had to pass by Mr. Borden’s house. I know Mr. Borden to speak to as well as by sight. He was on the inside of his yard, coming round the house. From the back of the house, east, I think. He went inside the fence to the front door, and stooped down as though putting a key in the door. He had a little white parcel in his hand, I think.

I didn’t speak to him, and he didn’t speak to me. I don’t think he saw me. This was when I was going out to the dentist. Immediately after I’d looked at my clock. It’s an old-fashioned clock, a square wooden clock with weights. It’s been in the family for years, I’ve only had it for two years in my house. In August of last year, it wasn’t a good timekeeper, nor could it be depended upon for accurate time. It doesn’t run at all now, it’s broken.

... When I completed the rinsing of the windows, I put the handle of the brush away in the barn, and brought the pail and dipper in, and put the dipper behind, and I got the handbasin and went into the sitting room to wash the sitting-room windows. Up to that time, I hadn’t seen Miss Lizzie since I saw her at the screen door.

I had the upper part of the window down, in the sitting room, when I heard something. Like a person at the door was trying to unlock the door and push it, but couldn’t. I’d heard no ringing of any bell. I went to open the door, caught it by the knob — the spring lock, as usual — and it was locked. I unbolted it, and it was locked with a key. As I unlocked it, I said, “Oh, pshaw,” and Miss Lizzie laughed, upstairs. Her father was out there on the doorstep, she was upstairs. Either in the entry or in the top of the stairs, I can’t tell which. Not a word passed between me and Mr. Borden as he came to the door. I let him in, and went back to washing my windows, into the sitting room again. And he came into the sitting room and went into the dining room. He had a little parcel in his hand, same as a paper or a book.

He sat down in the chair at the head of the lounge. I was washing my windows. I went out into the kitchen after something, I see the man sitting on the lounge, and the chair at the head of the lounge. Miss Lizzie came downstairs, probably five minutes later. She came down through the entry, the front entry, into the dining room, I suppose to her father. I heard her ask her father if he had any mail, and they had some talk between them which I didn’t understand or pay any attention to, but I heard her tell her father that Mrs. Borden had a note and had gone out.

The next thing I remember, Mr. Borden went out in the kitchen and come in the kitchen door, come from the kitchen into the sitting room and took a key off the mantelpiece and went upstairs to his room. Up the back stairs. When Mr. Borden come back downstairs again, I was completed in the sitting room, and taking my water and taking the handbasin and stepladder into the dining room. As I got in there, he pulled a rocking chair, and sat down in the rocking chair near the window, and let down the window as I’d left it up when I got through. I was washing the dining-room windows when Miss Lizzie appeared.

She came into the dining room, went out in the kitchen and took an ironing board, and placed it on the dining-room table and commenced to iron. Meantime, I was washing the last window in the dining room.

She said, “Maggie, are you going out this afternoon?”

I said, “I don’t know. I might and I might not. I don’t feel very well.”

She said, “If you go out, be sure and lock the door, for Mrs. Borden has gone out on a sick call, and I might go out, too.”

“Who’s sick?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Miss Lizzie said. “She had a note this morning. It must be in town.”

She was ironing handkerchiefs. Her flats she was ironing with were in the stove, in the kitchen. When I finished my windows, I went into the kitchen, washed out the cloths that I had washing the windows, and hung them behind the stove. As I got through, Miss Lizzie came out and said, “There’s a cheap sale of dress goods at Sargent’s this afternoon, at eight cents a yard.” I don’t know that she said “this afternoon”, but “today”. And I said, “I’m going to have one,” and went upstairs to my room...

My name is Mark P. Chase. I’m a hostler, formerly a patrolman on the police force. My place of business is right opposite Dr. Kelly’s, on Second Street. The New York and Boston Express barn. I have charge of it, right opposite the Kelly house. I was at the barn all morning on the day Andrew J. Borden was murdered.

At about eleven o’clock, I saw a carriage standing right by a tree, right front of Mr. Borden’s fence. An open buggy, a box buggy. It was a high top seat, high back. A man with a brown hat and black coat was in it. Sitting in the carriage, back to me. I should say this was about five to ten minutes of eleven. I’d never seen such a buggy as that around there before. Never saw that man around there before. I could see the man from his shoulders up to the top of his head. The side of his face. I didn’t recognize him as anybody I knew.

... When I got up in the bedroom, I laid down in the bed. I heard the bells outdoors ring, the City Hall bell, as I suppose it was, and I looked at my clock, and it was eleven o’clock.

My name Hymon Lubinsky.

I peddle ice cream. Ice-cream peddler. I work for Mr. Wilkinson. I peddle by team. I keep my team on Second Street. Charley Gardner’s stable. Near the corner of Second and Rodman Street. Near Morgan Street, too. Between Rodman and Morgan. Up a little from the Borden house. That morning, I get my team from the stable and drive toward Second Street, by the Borden house. It was after eleven, a few minutes after eleven.

I saw a lady come out the way from the barn right to the stairs back of the house — the northside stairs, from the back of the house. She had on a dark-color dress, I can’t tell what kind of color it was, nothing on her head. She was walking very slow, toward the steps. I don’t know if she went in the house, I couldn’t tell this, I was in the team. I didn’t stop the team, I just trotted a little, not fast.

The woman I saw was not the servant. I have delivered ice cream to the servant, oh, two or three weeks before the murder. The woman I saw the day of the murder was not the same woman as the servant.

I am sure about that.

... I was lying in the bed, I know I wasn’t drowsing or sleeping, and up to that time, I heard no noise, heard no sound of anybody, heard no opening or closing of the screen door. If anybody goes in or out and is careless and slams the door, I can hear it in my room.

The next thing that occurred, Miss Lizzie hollered, “Maggie, come down!”

I said, “What’s the matter?”

“Come down quick!” she said. “Father’s dead! Somebody came in and killed him!”

This was ten or fifteen minutes after the clock struck eleven, about as far as I can judge. I ran downstairs. I had not changed any of my clothing or taken off any clothing at all. When I came downstairs, the first person I saw was Miss Lizzie. She was standing at the back door, standing at the door that was leading in, a wooden door. The door was open. She was inside the threshhold, standing with her back to the screen door. I went around to go right in the sitting room, and she said, “Oh, Maggie, don’t go in! I’ve got to get a doctor quick! Go over! I’ve got to have the doctor!”

I went over to Dr. Bowen’s right away. I guess I ran, I don’t know whether I did or not. But I guess I went as fast as I could. His wife came to the door, and I told her that Mr. Borden was dead. I think that’s what I told her. And she said the doctor wasn’t in, but she expected him along any time, and she would send him over...

“Mrs. Churchill, you testified earlier that on the morning of August fourth, 1892, at about nine o’clock, you saw Mr. Borden standing on the walk by the steps. On the side of his house toward the barn, is that so?”

“That’s so, yes.”

“At any time on that morning, did you leave your house and go upon some errand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“About what time did you leave the house?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere near eleven o’clock, I should think.”

“Where did you go to?”

“I went to M. T. Hudner’s market.”

“On what street is that?”

“South Main Street.”

“How far from your house?”

“Just a little ways. Nearly opposite our house, only a little north.”

“Nearly opposite your house on a parallel street?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you do any business there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was the general nature of it?”

“I got three articles for dinner. Something for dinner.”

“Did you delay in the shop there after you bought the articles?”

“I asked my brother, who worked there, to send a telephone message for a woman who was at our house.”

“Had some brief conversation?”

“Yes.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I went right home.”

“When you reached the neighborhood of your house, did you notice anything?”

“Bridget Sullivan was going across the street from Dr. Bowen’s house to the Borden house. She looked very white, and I thought someone was sick. She was going fast.”

... When I came back to the house, I said, “Miss Lizzie, where were you? Didn’t I leave the screen door hooked?”

“I was out in the back yard,” she said. “And heard a groan. And came in, and the screen door was wide open.”

She wanted to know if I knew where Alice Russell lived, and I said I did.

“Go and get her,” she said. “I can’t be alone in the house.”

So I stepped inside the entry and got a hat and shawl that was hanging inside the entry and went down to Miss Russell.

At that time, no outcry or alarm had been given to any of the neighbors...

“You saw Bridget Sullivan going from Dr. Bowen’s house back to the Borden house...”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then what did you do, Mrs. Churchill?”

I went right in the north side of our house, in the back door, passed through the dining room into the kitchen, and laid my bundles on a long bench. And I looked out the window, and I saw Miss Lizzie at the inside of the screen door. She looked as if she was leaning up against the east casing of the door, and she seemed excited or agitated to me, as if something had happened, and I stepped to the other window — the other kitchen window, the east window — and I opened the window and said, “Lizzie, what’s the matter?”

She said, “Oh, Mrs. Churchill, do come over! Someone has killed father!”

I shut down the window, passed right through the kitchen and dining room into the front hall, and went right out the front door over to Mr. Borden’s. I didn’t see Bridget there when I arrived. I stepped inside the screen door and Miss Lizzie was sitting on the second stair, at the right of the door. I put my right hand on her arm and said, “Lizzie, where is your father?”

“In the sitting room,” she said.

And I said, “Where were you when it happened?”

“I went to the barn to get a piece of iron,” she said.

“Where’s your mother?” I asked.

“I don’t know. She’d got a note to go see someone who’s sick. I don’t know but she’s killed, too, for I thought I heard her come in. Father must have an enemy,” she said. “We’ve all been sick, and we think the milk’s been poisoned. Dr. Bowen’s not at home,” she said, “I must have a doctor!”

“Lizzie,” I said, “shall I go and try to get someone to get a doctor?”

“Yes,” she said, and I went out.

My full name is A. J. Cunningham. The J stands for John. I’m a newsdealer in Fall River. On the morning of August fourth, as I was going up Second Street, what attracted my attention was Mrs. Churchill running across the street. She started from the Borden residence and she run triangular across the street to an office there of Mr. Hall’s, the place that’s called Hall’s Stable. I was opposite Hall’s Stable. I went up as far as Varney Wale’s store where my business there was collecting money for newspapers. The weekly payment was twelve cents. I was there a few seconds, and then I went on the opposite side of the street to Mr. Gray’s paint shop — on the corner of Spring and Second. To collect the same amount there. I was there about the same time, and before I reached Hall’s Stable again, I see Mrs. Churchill standing on the sidewalk, talking to two or three gentlemen that was in front of Mr. Hall’s office. When I got there, I learned from another party that there was some trouble in the Borden house.

There’s a paint shop on the corner of Borden and Second Streets, that’s Mr. Gorman’s paint shop. I went in there and asked for the use of his telephone. To telephone to the Central Police Station.

I know the city marshal’s voice, it was the marshal himself who answered the phone.

My name is Rufus B. Hilliard. I’m the city marshal of Fall River, been connected with the police force there for a little over fourteen years, been city marshal a little over seven years. Prior to that time, I was assistant city marshal.

On the fourth of August last year, my attention was first called to the trouble at the Borden house by a telephone message. The person who telephoned was John Cunningham, the news dealer. The guardroom adjoins to the southward the room in which the telephone is. I left the telephone and went into the guardroom to talk to Officer George W. Allen.

At a quarter past eleven, the marshal came to me and said, “Officer Allen, there’s a row up on Second Street.” Came from his office in the Central Police Station and addressed me where I was sitting at the guardroom door. Right in front of his office, at the side. I looked at the clock to see if I had time to commit my prisoners at half-past eleven. I was a committing officer at that time, and my duty was conveying those who’d been committed by the District Court at Fall River to the place of confinement. Had a regular time for that duty each day. At half-past eleven and at a quarter past three. It was a quarter past eleven when Marshal Hilliard gave me this direction.

My name is Seabury W. Bowen. I’m a physician and surgeon practicing in Fall River, lived and practiced my profession there for twenty-six years. During a large part of that time — twenty-one years — I’ve lived at my present residence, diagonally opposite from the Borden house, to the northwest. I’ve been the family physician for, I should say, a dozen years, probably.

On the morning of August fourth, I returned to my house sometime after eleven and before half-past eleven. I had no occasion at the time to note the time of day. As I came up to the house, Mrs. Bowen came to the door looking for me. As a consequence of that, I went across the street into the house of Mr. Borden. Through the side door. Miss Lizzie Borden and Mrs. Churchill were there when I arrived. They were in either — at the end of the hall, side hall, or close to the kitchen door. That is, just at the end of the back hall. There was no other living person there at that time.

It is pretty hard work for me to recall how Lizzie was dressed that morning. Probably, if I could see a dress something like it, I could guess. But I could not describe it. It was a sort of drab, not much color to it to attract my attention. A sort of morning calico, I should judge. An ordinary, unattractive, common dress that I did not notice specially. There are many shades of drab to a woman’s dress, I should judge.

As soon as I entered the house, I said, “Lizzie, what’s the matter?”

Her reply was “Father’s been killed.” Or stabbed. Stabbed or killed, I couldn’t say which it was. I asked the question, “Where is your father?”

“In the sitting room,” she said.

I went directly into the dining room, and from there into the sitting room. As I came into the sitting room, I saw the form of Mr. Borden lying on the sofa, or lounge, at the left of the sitting-room door. Upon an inspection, I found that his face was very badly cut with apparently a sharp instrument, and there was blood over his face, his face was covered with blood. I felt of his pulse and satisfied myself at once that he was dead. And I took a glance about the room and saw there was nothing disturbed at all. He was lying with his face toward the south, on his right side, apparently at ease. As anyone would if they were lying asleep.

I should hardly say his face was to be recognized by anyone who knew him.

... When I first run to get Miss Russell, I went in the corner house, the corner of Second and Borden Street. I said I was Bridget Sullivan, and I learned that Miss Russell wasn’t there, and I went out and on the corner I met a man which Mrs. Churchill had sent looking for a doctor, and learned where Miss Russell lived. On Borden Street, in the little cottage house next the baker shop. I can’t tell how far I went, or how long it was, before I found her. She was at the screen door as I came to the door. She appeared at the door, and I told her. And after some conversation with her, I went back home. To the house where I left. Mrs. Churchill was in, and Dr. Bowen. And Miss Lizzie. I think Miss Lizzie was in the kitchen with Mrs. Churchill, and Mrs. Churchill and I went into the dining room, and Dr. Bowen came out from the sitting room and said, “He is murdered, he is murdered.”

Then I turned to Mrs. Churchill and said, “Addie, come in and see Mr. Borden.”

She said, “Oh, no, doctor, I don’t want to see him. I saw him this morning. I don’t want to see him.”

I asked Miss Lizzie some questions.

The first question I asked was if she had seen anyone.

The reply was, “I have not.”

The second question was, “Where have you been?”

The second reply was, “In the barn, looking for some irons.”

My name is Charles S. Sawyer. I’m a painter. Ornamental, fancy painter. The first I heard of the trouble, I heard there was a man stabbed by the name of Borden. I was in Mr. A. E. Rich’s shop, number 81 Second Street, near the Borden premises, on the same side of the street that the Dr. Bowen house is.

After I heard of the stabbing, I went out and went down over the steps, and I saw Mr. Hall, the man that keeps the stable connected with the building that I was in. I asked him what he’d heard. Then I saw Miss Russell going up on the other side of the street, and I crossed over to see if she knew any particulars. Had a talk with her and walked along with her toward the Borden house. When I got to the gate, I said I guessed I wouldn’t go in. I turned around and came away, started back.

I saw Officer Allen about that time. He was about... well, he was just north of Mrs. Churchill’s, the house that Mrs. Churchill lives in. The first that I saw him I was right there at Mrs. Churchill’s gate, I should say...

“Miss Russell, what were you doing when Bridget Sullivan came to you?”

“I was at my work.”

“In consequence of what Bridget told you, did you go somewhere?”

“Yes, sir. I went upstairs to change my dress.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went over to Mr. Borden’s.”

“Speak up, please.”

“I went over to the Borden house.”

“When you got to the Borden house, do you recall who was there?”

“I only remember Lizzie.”

“Where was she when you got there?”

“I’m not positive.”

“Was she upstairs or downstairs?”

“Downstairs.”

“Did you have any talk with her, or did she say anything to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, go on and tell us what it was.”

“I cannot tell it in order, for it’s very disconnected. I remember very little of it. I think she was standing in the door — leaning against the doorframe — as I went in, and I asked her to sit down in the rocking chair, which she did. There was somebody came around, I don’t know who they were. There were people there, came in; either they were there or came right in or something. I don’t know what followed...”

“Now Dr. Bowen, after she replied that she had been in the barn looking for some irons...”

“Or iron.”

“... was there any other conversation in that connection?”

“She then said that she was afraid her father had had trouble with the tenants, that she had overheard loud conversation several times recently. That was the extent of the conversation in the dining room.”

“Then what was done?”

“Then I asked for a sheet to cover up Mr. Borden.”

“To whom did you address that request?”

“I addressed that to Mrs. Churchill and to Miss Lizzie Borden at the same time. They were both in the same room. And to Miss Russell, who was there by then.”

“What was done in consequence of your request? Describe everything that was done.”

“Bridget Sullivan said, ‘I guess the sheets are up in Mrs. Borden’s room, Mrs. Borden’s desk where she keeps the bedclothes...’ ”

... and I asked Dr. Bowen if he would get the keys off the shelf in the sitting room. And he did so, and Mrs. Churchill said she would do anything to help me. She went in and unlocked the door and got two sheets, I guess...

... when the sheets were brought back, I covered the body, and Miss Lizzie Borden asked me if I would telegraph to her sister Emma. Directly after I took the address, I asked, “Where is Mrs. Borden?” The answer was that Mrs. Borden had received a note that morning to visit a sick friend. I wished to notify the officers, and as I was going out, Officer Allen — I didn’t know him at the time, a short, thickset man — came in, and I satisfied myself that the officers knew of the affair. I met him in the kitchen. As I was going out, he was in...

I went in the sitting room where Mr. Borden was. He was lying on the sofa side of the door that opens from the dining room to the kitchen. I went to the front door, the front halls, and looked at the door. The door was locked with a night lock and also with a bolt. I looked behind the door to see if anyone was standing there, and then I came out and I told the doctor I’d go down and get some officers to investigate the case. When I went out, I saw a closet there, and I thought I’d look into the closet. Then I looked in a clothes press there, nigh the stove, in the kitchen. I made no other investigation before I left the house.

I told Mr. Sawyer to stay there until I came back...

After Mr. Allen left me there, the other persons, I don’t know whether they were ministering to her some way, they seemed to be fanning her. Rubbing her hands or face, seemed to be. I couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing, but they appeared to be... I don’t know but that they were rubbing her hands. At one time I was within three feet of her, I should judge. Stood there quite a while. In fact, she wasn’t more than three or four feet from the door that led from the entry.

She was sitting in a rocking chair... well, not quite in the middle of the room but quite near the door to the back entry. She was sitting there and appeared to be somewhat distressed, I thought from her appearance. I didn’t see any signs of blood upon her hands, her hair, or her dress. I couldn’t tell you the color of the dress, or whether it was light or dark. I think the people there were Mrs. Churchill, Bridget and Miss Russell...

I started to unloosen her dress, thinking that she was faint, and she said, “I’m not faint, Alice.” Her dress was loose here, where I started to unloosen it. It was loose here, so it pulled out. I think I fanned her. I don’t remember whether I bathed her face. I don’t think I bathed her face in there. I did not see any blood on her clothing. Not a speck of it. Nor upon her hands. Or her face. I don’t think her hair was disturbed. I think I should have noticed it if it was disordered. I can’t give any description of the dress she had on that morning. None whatever...

My name is Phoebe B. M. Bowen. I live right across the street from Mr. Borden’s, lived there nearly all my life. I’m Dr. Bowen’s wife. When I got to the house on the morning of the murder, Mr. Sawyer was at the door, and Mrs. Churchill, Miss Russell and Miss Lizzie were in the kitchen. Miss Lizzie was sitting in a chair, and Miss Russell was sitting in a chair beside Miss Lizzie. Mrs. Churchill was standing in front of her, fanning her. She was reclining in a chair, with her head resting against Miss Russell.

I thought she had fainted, she was so white, until I saw her lip or chin quiver, and then I knew she hadn’t fainted. I stood directly in front of her. Miss Russell asked me to wet a towel to bathe her face and hands, and Lizzie shook her head no. Her hands were very white as they laid against her dark dress, in her lap. The dress had a blouse waist, with a white design on it. A dark dress. Her hair was arranged as it usually was. I did not see any blood on her hands, or face, or any part of her...

... after I brought the sheets to Dr. Bowen, after him and the officer left, I said, “Miss Lizzie, if I knew where Mrs. Whitehead’s was, I’d go and see if Mrs. Borden is there.” Mrs. Whitehead is Mrs. Borden’s sister that lives in Fall River.

And she said, “Maggie, I’m almost positive I heard her coming in. I’m sure she’s upstairs.”

And I said, “I’m not going up again.”

Mrs. Churchill said she would go with me.

I went from the dining room into the sitting room and upstairs.

The door to the spare room was open as I came up the stairway.

As I went upstairs, I saw the body under the bed.

Right between the bed and the wall... the bed was high enough to see. I went right into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. I don’t recall anything about the curtains or shutters in that room at that time, I couldn’t tell how they were. I couldn’t tell anything about how light it was in that room at that time. I didn’t stay long enough to notice anything, didn’t stop to make any examination of Mrs. Borden to see what was the matter with her.

Mrs. Churchill was behind me.

Bridget was leading the way, and as we went upstairs, I turned my head to the left. And as I got up so that my eyes were on the level with the front hall, I could see across the front hall and across the floor of the spare room. At the far side of the north side of the room, I saw something that looked like the form of a person. I turned and went back down, into the dining room, and made some noise. Miss Russell said, “Is there another?”

I said, “Yes, she’s up there.”

My name is John J. Manning, I’m a reporter. I was a reporter last August when I heard of the Borden murder. Mr. O’Neal, city editor of the Globe, told me to go up to Second Street, a stabbing affray had taken place there. I received the information between twenty-five minutes and half-past eleven. I ran the greater portion of the way. On the way to the house, near the entrance to Hall’s Stable, I saw Mr. Cunningham, Mr. Bowles and one or two other persons whom I don’t recall at this time. I crossed the road — they didn’t care to say much about what had happened — I crossed the road and went into the yard. I tried to open the door, and Mr. Sawyer was inside. It was a screen door. I was not allowed to go in. I sat back on the steps, waited for some person to come, with whom I could go in. I had been there some two or three minutes, and Dr. Bowen came in. I bade him good morning. He passed in, and I wasn’t allowed to go in with him.

On my return from the telegraph office, I met Mrs. Churchill at about the same place in the entry or hallway — the kitchen hallway — at the same point. She said, “They’ve found Mrs. Borden.”

“Where?” I said.

“Upstairs in the front room,” she said. “You’d better go up and see.”

I went directly through the dining room and the corner of the sitting room into the front hall, up the stairs, front stairs, and stopped a moment at the door of the front chamber... guest chamber... front bedroom. At that point, I looked over the bed and saw the prostrate form of Mrs. Borden. I was standing directly in the door of the room. My first thought, when I was standing in the doorway and saw the form... my first thought was that she had fainted. I went around the back of the bed — that is, the foot of the bed — and between the form and the bed, and placed my hand on her head. It was a little dark in the room, somewhat dark, not very light. The shutters on the north side were partly closed. The shutters toward Mrs. Churchill’s house. The inside shutters, the board shutters. I placed my hand on her head and found there were wounds in the head. Then I placed my... felt of her pulse... that is, felt of the wrist, and found she was dead.