by Bill Wallace
She said that she had taken a taxi to Tara Road on the night of the murder, but the police never followed up on this. However, shortly before her execution she made a statement that did implicate Cussen in the murder, but Cussen had disappeared and could not be questioned. The delay of the execution her lawyers had asked for was not granted.
Meanwhile, around the world, news of the execution was greeted with horror. One French newspaper, criticising the failure to recognise a crime of passion, said, ‘Passion in England, except for cricket and betting, is always regarded as a shameful disease.’
The tragedy did not end with her death. Her youngest sister, Elizabeth died a few months after her, of a broken heart, according to Ruth’s daughter, Georgina. Leo Simmons, one of her lawyers was so disgusted with her treatment the he gave up a promising law career. Ruth’s former husband George Ellis hanged himself in 1958.
Her son, Andy, who had shared all those flats above clubs with her grew increasingly mentally unbalanced and ended it all around twenty-five years after his mother’s death, with a cocktail of drugs and alcohol.
In 1977, Desmond Cussen was tracked down in Australia. He denied supplying Ruth Ellis with the gun or driving her to the Magdala pub on that fateful night in 1955.
Velma Barfield
People had a habit of dying around shy, rosy-cheeked, Velma Barfield. So much, in fact, that she was like a walking virus. Marry her, start a relationship with her, or just be a family member – before long you were suffering from stomach pains, feeling dizzy and throwing up. A little while later, you were dead and Velma, thoughtful, caring Velma, who looks more like a granny than a serial killer, was collecting a nice fat insurance cheque from that policy she told you she recently happened to have taken out on you.
Times were hard in rural South Carolina in the early 1930s. The economy had gone to hell and farms and businesses were falling foul of the banks who were engaged in an orgy of repossession. Velma Margie Bullard screamed her way into such a world on 23 October 1932. Her father, Murphy, owned a small farm on which he cultivated tobacco and cotton. Unfortunately, what he failed to cultivate were profits and not long after Velma was born, he was forced to hand the farm back to the bank and the family moved in with his parents in Fayetteville. Soon, however, the house was his and his wife Lillie’s when his parents died. It should be pointed out that even murderous Velma could not have been responsible for their deaths. She was a little too young.
From an early age, however, she was in conflict with her father, a strict disciplinarian who did not shrink from the use of a leather strap to beat his daughter. Her only respite from the casual violence of her home life was school, even if there she was looked down upon by her school friends because of her poverty, which was plain to see from the ragged clothes she had to wear and the plain food in her lunchbox every day.
To try to improve her social standing at school, she began to steal money, from both her father and an elderly neighbour. The beatings merely intensified and her workload at home increased. She would later accuse her father of sexually molesting her when she was a child, a charge that was resolutely denied by her family.
Around high school age, the Barfields moved to Red Springs in Southern California where Murphy had found work in a textile factory. As she had shown at her previous school, Velma was poor academically, but excelled at sport. She had played in a baseball team her father had organised and at high school she became a good basketball player. She also found a boyfriend, Thomas Burke, a year ahead of her in school, whom she dated according to strict rules imposed by Murphy.
At the age of seventeen, however, Velma and Burke decided to quit school and get married. What Murphy thought of this decision can only be imagined, but Velma was too big for beatings now. She was strong, single-minded young woman.
Their first son, Ronald Thomas was born in December 1951 and in September 1953, a daughter, Kim, followed. Velma stopped work to stay home and look after the house and the kids, while her husband moved from job to job. They were poor but happy and well-respected by friends and neighbours.
When the children were old enough to go to school, Velma became bored. She went back to work to occupy her time and they saved enough to move into a bigger house in Parkton, South Carolina.
Everything seemed to change in 1963 when Velma underwent a hysterectomy. She began to suffer from severe mood swings and was easily angered. She felt less attractive as a woman because she was no longer able to have children and this feeling was exacerbated when Thomas started going out more and drinking late into the night with friends.
In 1965, the family suffered another trauma when Thomas was involved in a car crash, suffering serious head injuries. In the same way that Velma’s hysterectomy had radically changed her, he too, began to change. He suffered from blinding headaches and began to use alcohol as a painkiller, drinking heavily and getting involved in endless arguments with Velma. The Barfield house became a powder keg that could explode at any moment and Velma, ill with stress, was sent to hospital where they treated her with sedatives and vitamins. Back home again, she became addicted to Valium, and devised strategies to ensure she maintained her supply, using numerous different doctors and pharmacies.
Thomas had to go. His drinking was driving Velma mad and the house was a dysfunctional disaster. One day, after she had sent the kids off to school, she went to the laundromat for a short while to wash some clothes. On her return she found her house on fire. Inside they found her husband Thomas, dead from smoke inhalation.
That was one problem dealt with.
Another fire a few months later drove the newly widowed Velma to go and live with her children at her parents’ house for a while. The pain of leaving the family home was mitigated somewhat by the arrival of a cheque from the insurance company.
Jennings Barfield was a widower. He was also a sick man, suffering from diabetes, emphysema and heart disease. Not long after being widowed, Velma started seeing Barfield and shortly after they were married. It was doomed from the start, however, mostly by Velma’s escalating drug habit. Barfield, unable to stand it any longer walked out and the two filed for divorce. But if Velma was going to walk away from the marriage with something to show for it, she was going to have to do something. Sure enough, before the case got to the courts Jennings’ weak heart finally gave out – with a little help from a liberal sprinkling of arsenic. A widow – and a killer – for a second time, Velma seemed to be devastated. She sank into a pill-enhanced oblivion and took to her bed. She pulled herself together again and found a job in a department store, but her depression returned with a vengeance when her beloved son, Ronald enlisted in the US Army to go and fight in Vietnam. Things just got worse. Her father was diagnosed with lung cancer and, unbelievably, her home burned down for a third time. The insurance company was becoming familiar with her name.
She moved back in with her parents just in time for her father to die. She also had trouble with the law around this time, receiving a fine and a suspended sentence for forging a prescription. It was an unhappy time, or rather a slightly unhappier time than previous ones. Ronnie announced he was getting married and Velma became unnaturally jealous of her son’s future bride. She was also arguing furiously with her mother. Lillie was demanding and railed against Velma because of her pill habit. Suddenly, in the summer of 1974, Lillie was felled by what appeared to be a bad stomach virus. In hospital, the doctors could not get to the bottom of it. Just as quickly as she became ill, however, she got better and was sent home.
Velma’s mood was improved a little by the arrival of an insurance cheque for $5,000. She had taken out a policy on a man she had been dating who had been killed in a car accident. This one had been nothing to do with her, however.
The following Christmas, Lillie asked one question too many for Velma’s liking, enquiring of one of her sons why she would have received a final demand for an overdue payment on a car when she had already paid for it. A few days later, Lillie was vomiting
and suffering from stomach pains again. She died in hospital shortly after. Another problem dealt with, thought Velma.
In 1975, she went to prison for six months for passing dud cheques. On her release she found a much easier scam, however. Caring for the elderly could be extremely lucrative and by 1976, she was a live-in carer for ninety-four-year-old Montgomery Edwards and his eighty-four-year-old wife Dollie at their well-appointed brick ranch house. Dollie was a difficult employer, however, constantly telling Velma off about her work. Nevertheless, when Montgomery died in January 1977, Velma carried on working for Dollie. It was not for long, of course. Next month, Dollie died suffering the same stomach pains that seemed to have done in her husband.
Velma Barfield had now murdered five people and no one suspected a thing. Not only were the authorities not looking for a serial killer, they were not even aware that there was one out there.
Victim number six was eighty-year-old John Henry Lee, another victim of the stomach virus for which Velma seemed to be the carrier.
Fifty-six-year-old Stuart Taylor was a widower and a tobacco farmer and he and Velma were soon living together, although to the shame of Velma’s family, he was not interested in marrying her. He was fully aware of her criminal past of drug use and prescription forgery but he believed she was, like him, a devout Christian. One night, after dinner, the two jumped in his pickup to go and see the famous preacher Rex Hubbard who was holding a revival meeting in Fayetteville. At the interval, however, Stuart began to feel ill with painful stomach cramps. He was unable to return to watch the second half, instead lying down in the truck and moaning in pain. A few days later, he was dead and even Rex Hubbard would have been unable to revive him.
This time, it was not quite so simple, however. A worried Velma was informed by Stuart’s baffled doctors that they had no idea what had killed him and they were going to perform an autopsy. They were certain, they added, that she would also want to know. She already did – a sprinkling of arsenic on his dinner.
Before reports were received back on the results of the autopsy, Detective Benson Phillips at Lumberton police headquarters received what began as a mysterious anonymous telephone call, but was soon discovered to be from Velma’s sister. She was distraught and claimed that her sister had murdered Stuart Taylor and that he was not the only one.
One of Taylor’s doctors called the chief medical examiner of North Carolina, Page Hudson, and explained the details of how the dead man had expired. Hudson had no hesitation whatsoever in telling him that it sounded like arsenic poisoning to him. He also suggested Velma Barfield as the person most likely to have administered it. Police began to check back through the death certificates of everyone who had died around Velma. They found that they had all died of gastro-enteritis and at no time had anyone tested them for poison. It had happened too often to be a coincidence. At last they realised that the tragedy-laden, God-fearing woman that everyone had been feeling sorry for was actually a psychopathic, cold-blooded serial killer.
They brought her in for questioning, ostensibly about dud cheques but surprised her by telling her they knew that Stuart had died of arsenic poisoning. She denied any involvement, reminding them that she and Stuart were going to be married, that she loved him. Why would she kill him?
The next day, however, she began to realise that it was only a matter of time before they charged her with Stuart’s murder. She confessed to her son Ronnie, but told him that she had only intended to make him sick, not to kill him.
At her trial, her attorney tried to persuade the court that Velma had merely wanted to incapacitate Stuart Taylor so that she could return money she had stolen from him without him knowing. Her judgement had not been good, however, due to her long-term drug habit. Soon, the judge gave permission for information about her other victims – John Henry Lee, Dottie and Montgomery Edwards, her own mother, Lillie, Jennings Barfield and Ronnie’s father Thomas Burke – to be introduced in court.
The verdict was never in doubt and sure enough Velma Barfield was pronounced guilty of murder in the first-degree. She was sentenced to die by lethal injection and would be the first women in the United States to be executed using this method.
In prison Velma became a born-again Christian and had high profile opponents to her death sentence, including the famous evangelist, Billy Graham. She even wrote an autobiography during the six years in which her appeals were heard.
Approaching the date of her execution, she confessed to each of the murders, apart from those of Stuart Taylor and Jennings Barfield.
On 2 November 1984, Velma Barfield was led to the execution chamber dressed in pink pyjamas and wearing an adult nappy. She lay down on the gurney without struggling and the two intravenous drips were inserted in her arms. None of the three volunteers selected to administer the drugs would ever know which of them administered the single lethal one.
When asked if she had any last words, Velma said in a voice that did not waver, ‘I want to say that I am sorry for all the hurt that I have caused. I know that everybody has gone through a lot of pain – all the families connected – and I am sorry, and I want to thank everybody who has been supporting me all these six years. I want to thank my family for standing with me through all this and my attorneys and all the support to me, everybody, the people with the prison department. I appreciate everything – their kindness and everything that they have shown me during these six years.’
Shortly after, she died.
Blanche Taylor Moore
The residents of North Carolina were horrified to find they had another ‘black widow’ in their midst so soon after the execution of Velma Barfield. It was hard to believe that Blanche Moore, a pillar of the local society, would stoop so low as to murder for money. It was even harder to believe, due to the fact that she came from a highly religious background, the daughter of a Baptist minister.
Blanche Kiser was born on 17 February 1933. On the outside her father was an upstanding citizen, but beneath the façade was an alcoholic who was addicted to gambling. Blanche was frequently abused by her father and was often made to prostitute herself to pay off some of his debts. She was desperate to escape the life she had always known, and resorted to marrying James N. Taylor when she was just eighteen years old. James was five years older than Blanche and her ticket to freedom. Little did Blanche know that her husband was cut from the same cloth as her father, another hardened drinker and gambler who disappeared for days on end spending whatever money they had. Their daughter, Vanessa, was born in 1953, the same year that Blanche started a job as a cashier at a local supermarket. She was a popular member of staff and within a few years received a promotion to head cashier. Another daughter, Cindi, was born in 1959, but all was not well in the Taylor household. Blanche was fed up with her husband gambling away all their money and she got her own back by having affairs with several of her work associates. When her husband got wind of her behaviour, it sparked off violent rows and she received several severe beatings.
In 1962, Blanche turned her attentions to the new manager at the supermarket, twenty-seven-year-old Raymond Reid. Like Blanche, Reid was married with two young children, and it took all her womanly ways to persuade him into having an affair with her. It was a passionate affair which lasted many years.
In September 1966, Blanche decided to try and reconcile the relationship with her father. Shortly after her arrival he became ill and Blanche, the loving daughter that she had become, nursed him until the bitter end. On the death certificate the cause of death was put down as a ‘heart attack triggered by chronic emphysema’ – somehow the violent stomach cramps, diarrhoea, vomiting and blue face were dismissed by the attending doctor! These symptoms would normally indicate acute poisoning.
In 1968, following a heart attack, Blanche’s husband turned over a new leaf. He stopped drinking and gambling and became a model husband and father – perhaps a little too late for Blanche. She continued her affair with Reid, a romance she was not prepared to walk away
from. When her mother-in-law, Isla Taylor, became bedridden in 1970, Blanche was the devoted daughter-in-law and nursed her constantly. She died of ‘natural causes’ on 25 November that same year, despite the fact that there were large quantities of undigested arsenic in her stomach.
Reid eventually left his wife in 1971 and rented a small apartment so that Blanche could join him and make their relationship permanent. He filed for divorce, expecting Blanche to do the same. As news of their affair became more public, Blanche’s husband went down with a mysterious illness. Shortly after Blanche fed him some ice cream, James was hospitalised and died a few hours later.
James had left a modest estate, but Blanche bought a new house and kept delaying the offers of marriage from her lover, Reid. In fact Reid was starting to get in her way. She had set her sights on a new handsome divorcee by the name of Rev Dwight Moore.
Still anticipating marriage, Reid was diagnosed with a skin condition called shingles in 1986. By April of that year he was submitted to hospital suffering from violent stomach cramps, vomiting, diarrhoea and a loss of feeling in his hands. The attending doctor ordered special tests for ‘heavy metals intoxication’, which proved that he had six times the normal amount of arsenic in his system. Somehow these results got mislaid and never reached the doctor.
When Reid died a couple of months later, Blanche managed to dodge any requests for an autopsy. She had convinced Reid to change his will on his deathbed, leaving his entire estate to her.
