A Murder in Siberia

If you’re one of those people with a hankering to escape big city hell for the quiet bliss of rural small-town life, I present to you the following case, which would not be out-of-place in an episode of “Midsomer Murders.”  It’s a handy reminder that evil is everywhere.

Elizabeth Miller was a 38-year-old spinster who lived in Siberia, Indiana.  The township’s name suited it:  Siberia was a tiny, isolated farming community of less than 100 people.  After the death of her mother, which took place about a year before our story opens, Miller lived virtually as a recluse.  She spent most of her days shut up in her little house, with the doors firmly closed and the windows always covered by curtains.  It seemed that all she asked of the world was to be left completely alone.  Unfortunately, that seems to be all we know about her.

On the morning of May 10, 1929, a group of children walked past the Miller house on their usual route to school.  They were bemused to note that Elizabeth’s front door was wide open.  When the youngsters approached the house, they were stunned to see Miller’s body lying in a small hallway a few feet inside, surrounded by blood.  The children ran to the nearest neighbor, who summoned police. 

Detectives noted that the modest home was undisturbed, except for a large rock near the front door, and a broken window.  It was surmised that during the night, someone had thrown the rock through the window to get Miller’s attention.  When she opened the door, this someone fired four rounds of birdshot into her from a 12-gauge shotgun.  Neighbors told police that at around 10:30 the previous night, they heard the sound of gunshots.  However, none of them had bothered to investigate the noise.  They added that during the past week, a man they didn’t recognize had visited Miller’s home, always at night.  This was highly unusual, as normally her only visitor was her brother Frank, who came by once a month.  This man was never identified.  (Note: I suspect that this "mystery man" was a red herring, invented by Miller's neighbors to draw suspicion away from themselves.)

Although police had little luck coming up with any suspects, the probable motive for the murder became clearer.  Elizabeth Miller was not popular among her fellow Siberians.  To be brief, the townsfolk regarded her as highly strange, even sinister.  Her neighbors admitted that they had all been afraid of her.  A few were forthright enough to say they were glad she was dead.  Although the adults refused to say much about Miller, or to provide any hints about who might have killed her, their children were more forthcoming.  Siberia, like many rural communities, had a strong belief in superstitions and the paranormal.  Omens, hexes, curses, ghosts, and the like were very real to them.  The children of Siberia unhesitatingly told authorities (and eager journalists) that their parents had warned them to stay well away from Miller, because she was a witch.  Miller, they said, could cause anyone to have rheumatism.  Her “evil powers” caused a great deal of misfortune among her neighbors.  The adults told of bewitched farm animals and a local abandoned cabin that was haunted by malevolent spirits.  A farmer told reporters about a man “who can milk a cow although the cow is several miles away from him.”  “I know,” he added angrily, “for he cast a spell of that kind on my cow when he was mad at me.”  The seemingly sleepy, pastoral town turned out to be something straight out of “The Wicker Man.”

"Racine Journal Times," June 12, 1929, via Newspapers.com

Thanks to the uncooperative attitude of the townsfolk, the police had no choice but to give up their investigation, and Miller’s murder was soon forgotten by the outside world.  Although it was, to the authorities, an unsolved crime, it was probably not a mystery to the victim’s neighbors.  In such a small, close-knit community where everyone knew everything about everybody, I suspect that all of Siberia knew who had killed Miller, and their only regret was not being able to give the murderer a ticker-tape parade.  My one big question about this strange case is this:  When Siberians continued to have their share of hardships:  the cattle dying, the crops failing, little Johnny coming down with whooping cough--Whom did they blame then?