Evan Hunter - Lizzie

“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...