by Sly, Nicola;
Had Jim been anywhere near Buckshorn House that afternoon, asked Lavender. Jim swore that he had been to Honeycomb and Bowood to pick up some sticks, but he had no sticks with him at the time. Lavender warned him that, if he could not come up with a better explanation for the bloodstains on his clothing, then he would be arrested on a charge of murder. No better explanation was forthcoming and Jim Seal was duly taken into custody.
At the inquest into Sarah’s death, the jury came to the conclusion that she ‘was by Jim Seal feloniously, wilfully and with malice aforethought killed and murdered’. Seal was quickly brought before magistrates, who committed him for trial at the next Dorset Assizes.
At his trial Jim Seal changed his story. Now he maintained that he had been working at Broadwindsor on the day of the murder and had been paid for his labour with two quarts of cider. After drinking these, he claimed that he recalled very little. However, witnesses were called who remembered him working at Stoke Abbott on that day, less than a quarter of a mile from Sarah’s home, and stated that when he left work there were no bloodstains on his clothes and no cut on his finger.
Noah Hussey, who lived next door to Jim Seal, testified to seeing Jim eating bread and cheese with a very pointed knife, similar in appearance to one of three found in the cottage, near to where Sarah’s body had lain. Another witness, Mr Paul, told the court that he had watched Jim Seal rubbing yellowish dirt on his trousers at about 4.30 p.m. in a field on the afternoon of the murder.
The courtroom at Dorchester, 2008. (© R. Sly)
Jane Cornick gave evidence about what she had seen while visiting her garden on the day of the murder, telling the jury of hearing Sarah scream just once, in apparent terror, and telling the court, ‘I fancied it was a sort of deathly scream’. When she left the cottage with Jim Seal there had been no signs of a fire, suggesting that Seal had returned and started the blaze in an effort to conceal the murder.
A key to the Hutchins’s side of the cottage was found just outside the door to Sarah’s home and it was widely known that Mrs Hutchins had given Sarah a key for safekeeping. Jim Seal had been a frequent visitor to the Hutchins’s home, usually trying to scrounge money. However, shortly before the murder there had been an ‘incident’ and Mrs Hutchins had told Jim Seal never to come again. According to Rebecca Guppy, Seal had been hanging round making a nuisance of himself for some time and Sarah herself was of the opinion that he was up to no good.
In summing up the case for the jury, the judge told them that it was difficult to suggest a motive for the crime, but reminded them that many a crime had been committed in the past without an apparent motive. It was not their duty to speculate on a possible motive, rather they should look at the facts of the case and, if they believed that the proven facts tied the accused to the case, then they should find him guilty. If they had any doubts then they should acquit him, but if they were completely satisfied that Jim Seal had committed the crime then it was their duty to God and man to find him guilty.
The jury duly discharged their duty, finding Jim Seal guilty of the wilful murder of Sarah Ann Guppy. Seal did not look like a man capable of so diabolical an act, looking much younger than his twenty years and standing only a fraction over 5ft tall. However, appearances can be deceptive and, in this case, they obviously were since Seal made a full confession just before his execution. He was hanged at Dorchester on 10 August 1858.
4
‘IF YOU BIDE THERE CHAFING ME, I’LL GET UP AND BEAT THEE BRAINS OUT’
Preston, 1862
On 8 July 1862, former butcher John Cox of Preston near Dorchester received an important visitor. Cox, who lived in a small cottage with his elderly parents and two brothers, had for some time been suffering from a strange illness that manifested itself in fits and seizures that left him unable to work.
During the previous November, Cox had served a short prison sentence for poaching. In a routine check of the cells one morning, a prison officer had found him lying motionless on his bunk, as if dead. His eyes were open and staring, his whole body was extremely cold and he would not, or could not, respond to any outside stimuli. The warder immediately sent for the prison surgeon, who professed himself baffled at Cox’s condition. He could do nothing more than order that the prisoner should be closely observed and any sign of change reported to him immediately.
Cox lay in a catatonic state for two more days before awakening, at which point he became so violent that he had to be forcibly restrained by strapping him to his bed. By now the surgeon was of the opinion that Cox was suffering from catalepsy, which was causing mania; a state that he felt could recur at any time if Cox were stressed or annoyed.
Released from prison into the care of his parents, Cox’s condition worsened steadily as the months passed. His speech was rambling and by the following summer, according to the parish rector, Revd Baker, he was in such a state of confusion that it was impossible even to pray with him. Cox apparently believed that he was hearing the voice of God and that God was telling him that He had come to take him.
Preston village at the turn of the nineteenth century.
One can only imagine the distress of Cox’s elderly parents, confined for twenty-four hours a day in a tiny two-roomed cottage with someone who was no longer the son they had once loved, but a violent, unstable and highly dangerous man. Richard and Mary Cox were terrified of their son, to the extent that Richard had buried razors and other sharp implements from his home under the cabbages in his garden to prevent John from finding and using them against him. In an effort to help John, his parents called in Dr Adam Stapleton Puckett, the surgeon at the nearest Union Workhouse. Puckett, who was then sixty-five, lived in nearby Broadwey with his disabled wife and three grownup children. Having diagnosed John Cox as suffering from ‘brain fever’, Puckett made several visits to see him over a period of three weeks, frequently in the company of the Revd Baker. Cox grew to hate the doctor, whom he was convinced was feeding him ‘poison stuff’.
By 8 July, Puckett had exhausted every avenue of treatment and felt that, in the interests of everyone’s safety, it would be best to remove John Cox to the Union. It must be remembered that in those days the prospect of entering the Union Workhouse was universally viewed with great trepidation, the ultimate in shame and degradation and the lowest point to which a person’s circumstances could fall. Thus it was not expected that John Cox would agree willingly with the surgeon’s decision and, indeed, he had stated that he would sooner go to gaol than the workhouse. Nevertheless, Puckett was confident that he would be able to handle the violent and unpredictable man.
He arrived at Cox’s cottage at about five o’clock in the afternoon, accompanied by Mr Zachariah White, the relieving officer of the Union. They were met outside by Richard Cox, who advised them not to go indoors as he believed it was far too dangerous. That very morning, Mr Cox explained, his son had stripped off all his clothes and rubbed his naked body with half a pound of butter, remaining unclothed until the afternoon. Puckett paid no heed to the old man’s advice and, telling Mr Cox that he believed that he could pacify his son, he sent Mr White off to procure a horse and cart in which to transport Cox back to the Union. The expected confrontation drew a cluster of curious onlookers from the village, who collected outside John Cox’s bedroom window in order to obtain the best possible view of the proceedings.
On entering the cottage, Puckett found the illiterate Cox lying in bed pretending to read a book, dressed only in a flannel nightshirt. He politely asked Cox to get up so that he could help him to get dressed then take him outside for some air.
Cox responded angrily, ‘If you bide there chafing me, I’ll get up and beat thee brains out.’
Puckett responded in kind, telling Cox that if he struck him, then he would strike him back.
‘Yes, I should like to have a turn with you’, replied Cox, suddenly leaping out of bed and rushing at the doctor. His behaviour at this point was so terrifying that the crowd of onlookers hurriedly retreated
from outside the bedroom window, shutting themselves in a nearby cottage and watching the rest of the proceedings through a window in relative safety. Sensing trouble, Richard Cox went to the village blacksmith to summon assistance
Neighbours saw Puckett rush out of the cottage and slam the door behind him, holding it tightly closed with one hand while brandishing a pair of fire tongs in the other. Next, they saw Cox break his bedroom window with part of a bedpost. This seemed to alarm Puckett, as he let go of the door and ran off up the garden as fast as his legs could carry him. Seconds later, Cox burst through the cottage door and set off in pursuit, a large piece of broken bedpost clutched in each hand.
He soon caught up with Puckett and began to belabour him with the bedposts until Puckett fell to the ground, bloody and bruised. Apparently satisfied with his work, Cox went to the window of one of the nearby cottages and asked for some brandy, threatening to kill the occupants if he didn’t get it. He had three people to kill, he told them and he had already killed one of them.
He was given a tot of brandy, after which he returned to his cottage and put on a white shirt, neglecting to put on any clothes from the waist down. When he emerged, he was carrying a large saw. By now his father was back from the blacksmith’s and asked John what he had been doing. Picking up a large stone as if to throw it at his father, John threatened the old man that he would kill him too if he didn’t leave. Wisely, Richard Cox retreated to the lane outside his cottage, where he waited to try and forestall Mr White on his return.
As the villagers watched in horror, John Cox then approached the body of Mr Puckett and began to dismember it. He slowly and deliberately sawed off the head, throwing it into the road. He then removed one of the hands and similarly discarded that, followed by one of Puckett’s feet. Seeming to tire, he then walked back into his cottage before appearing a little while later, still trouser-less, carrying a bag. He set off across the fields towards the village of Osmington.
Adam Puckett’s grave at Broadwey, 2008. (© N. Sly)
There he met Mr Joseph Townsend working in his garden. Cox called out to Townsend, whom he knew, asking him to come with him and not let anyone hurt him. In view of Cox’s state of undress, Townsend first decided to get him decently attired and took him into the stable of the Plough Inn. The alarm had been raised in Preston as soon as Cox had left the village and the police had immediately alerted Richard Bartlett, the Osmington constable, who caught up with Cox in the stable just as he was recounting in gruesome detail to Townsend exactly what he had done and why he had left Preston so hurriedly, without having taken the necessary time to dress himself properly.
Cox was indicted for the wilful murder of the Union surgeon and stood trial just two weeks later before Mr Justice Keating at the Assizes in Dorchester. He was appointed a defence counsel, Mr Turner, who predictably argued that Cox was in such a state of mind at the time of the killing that he was not responsible for his conduct, being mentally incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong.
The jury acquitted John Cox of the murder of Adam Stapleton Puckett, finding him not guilty on the grounds of insanity. He was ordered to be detained in safe custody during Her Majesty’s pleasure. His destination after the trial – presumably Dorchester Prison – is not recorded, although the whereabouts of Mr Puckett are easier to trace. He is buried in the churchyard at Broadwey, with a headstone that reads:
Sacred to the memory of
ADAM STAPLETON PUCKETT
who was murdered by a patient while
in the execution of his duty at
Sutton Pointz on the 8th day of July 1862,
in the 65th year of his age.
He was highly respected and deeply lamented
by all who knew him and was upwards
of twenty years Parochial medical officer
of the Upwey and Chickerell district.
Also of ELIZABETH ESTHER, relict of the
above who died January 6th 1865,
aged 66 years.
The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away.
5
‘SEE WHAT COMES OF ANNOYING A NERVOUS MAN’
Walditch, 1862
Daniel Joseph Stone and Charles Fooks were neighbours, living about thirty yards apart in the village of Walditch near Bridport. They were also first cousins and for many years had nurtured a disagreement between them, the origins of which were long forgotten. Family members and neighbours had made countless attempts to patch up the simmering quarrel between the two men and persuade them to shake hands but had never succeeded, mainly because Fooks seemed to be completely paranoid about his cousin and was convinced that Stone was spying on him, laughing at him and spreading rumours behind his back in order to blacken his character and drive him from the village.
Matters came to a head at about eight o’clock on the morning of 29 August 1862. Fooks was standing by the open door of his farmhouse with his gun in his hand. The door of his house opened directly onto the street and, as Fooks watched, he saw Stone walking along the road towards him.
It seemed as if the opportunity to finally rid himself of his long-time enemy was too good a one to miss and, as Stone passed the house, Fooks raised the gun to his shoulder, took careful aim at the back of Stone’s head and fired. Stone instantly fell to the ground while Fooks calmly turned and went back inside, closing the door behind him. Moments later a second gunshot was heard from within the house.
Neighbours rushed to Stone’s assistance but the gunshot wounds to the back of his head were so severe that, even as they reached him, he was already drawing his last gasping breaths. With Stone beyond all help, the neighbours turned their attention to Fooks.
The door to his house was firmly locked and no amount of knocking or shouting elicited any response from within. Eventually, a villager climbed to the first-floor window and saw Fooks lying on the floor, apparently dead. The front door was then broken open and, on closer examination, it was found that Fooks was merely wounded. He was still conscious and able to speak. A shotgun lay close by, and one barrel had recently been discharged. The other barrel appeared to be still loaded, but with gunpowder only.
The police and a doctor were sent for. Mr Hay, a local surgeon, examined Fooks and found him to have large but superficial wounds to his lips, left eyebrow and scalp. All were blackened, as if caused by a gun fired at very close range. Given that one barrel of the gun was still loaded with powder only, the doctor was unable to determine whether Fooks had genuinely attempted to kill himself or whether he had just loaded the recently-fired barrel with powder only and pretended to commit suicide. The doctor described Fooks as being ‘excited’ although he calmed down within a few minutes and his pulse, which had hitherto been quick but weak, returned to its normal steady beat.
Fooks was interviewed by the police and given the usual cautions. However, in spite of this he was unable to contain himself and expressed some pleasure on learning of Stone’s death, saying that Stone had been teasing him and slandering him for months and that he had long wished him dead. ‘See what comes of annoying a nervous man’, he told the inspector.
Although Fooks was a respectable man, holding the positions of parish overseer and way-warden in the village of Walditch, he seemed to have a long history of mental and physical illness. He had frequently complained about pains in his head, which he believed were caused by some disease in his chest. He constantly experienced a burning sensation there, which his doctor had diagnosed as indigestion. A year or so before the murder, Fooks had told his doctor that he felt that the devil was within him and had asked for some strong medicine to drive it out. He had complained of feeling low and fit for nothing and of experiencing all sorts of ‘queer feelings’ and had been thinking of drowning himself. He was ‘all confusion’ and ‘couldn’t settle to anything’. When his doctor reminded him that he had much to be thankful for, he had agreed and told the doctor that he believed that some strong medicine would soon set him right.
Fooks was com
mitted for trial at the Spring Assizes at Dorchester before Mr Serjeant Shee. Mr Collier and Mr Prideaux prosecuted, while Mr Coleridge and Mr Stock handled Fooks’s defence.
The crux of the defence was that Fooks was insane and at the time of the murder had been completely delusional, believing that Stone was constantly laughing and jeering at him and was also slandering him to other people in an attempt to discredit him.
Several Walditch villagers testified at the trial to the effect that Fooks was often heard threatening to shoot people, Stone in particular. He had apparently stated several times that shooting people meant no more to him than shooting a rook or a stray cat and, when asked if he knew what the consequences of shooting someone would be, had replied that perhaps he should shoot himself.
Martha Hallett, Fook’s niece, had lived with her bachelor uncle for fifteen years, leaving his home the day before the murder because, she claimed, she had come to fear him. She told the court that for the past eight years Fooks had suffered from nervousness and unbearable pains in the head, which he had treated himself with repeated applications of vinegar. His bedroom was kept almost sealed, with blankets and carpets hung at the windows to prevent air entering, contrary to the advice of his doctor who believed that fresh air would be beneficial to him.
In the years that she had lived with her uncle, Martha had heard him threaten to kill himself numerous times. He was very fond of shooting and had been known to shoot out of his front door in the past. She had even heard him threaten to shoot Stone if he ever walked past the farmhouse.
Fooks had banned Martha from speaking to Daniel Stone and, although she had respected his request, he had still frequently accused her of secretly conversing with Stone. Another niece, Jane Fooks, stated that while her uncle was always kind to her, she had noticed him becoming more and more nervous over the last few months.
