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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 5

A/N Now the long chapters are really starting

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

Avalon’s purse was left on the kitchen island right by the door. It was on its side as if it had been thrown there in some sort of haste when she came inside. I picked it up and ruffled through the small bag; pushing aside the tube of lipstick, small medicine bottle, few feminine hygiene products, and her wallet before accessing her phone.

Her lockscreen was a photo of me, taken on our honeymoon some time by the resort pool. If I didn’t feel the breath of shame and guilt on my neck, that certainly sealed it in. I typed in her passcode but was met with ‘incorrect pin’. I tried again, only to receive the same message. Since when did she change her passcode and not tell me?

We must ignore the fact that I changed mine a few weeks back without telling her as well.

The last thing I wanted to have to do was facial recognition, but it seemed that was my only option.

So I found myself back in the studio, patting softly over the blood soaked rug to the body of my wife to stick her iPhone in her face. Jonah watched from the doorway as I crouched down carefully on the balls of my feet and held the screen towards Avalon’s blank expression. The phone unlocked and the home screen appeared. I didn’t look at her for too long – honestly I couldn’t without risking being sent to empty my stomach again – and I simply took her phone over to the studio couch and sat down on the arm. Jonah stood beside me to watch over my shoulder as I opened up her contacts app and scrolled down to J.

You can imagine my surprise when the very first contact under that letter was simply the letter itself. It was too easy. I brought up any messages she had with that person and scrolled to the top of the reasonably short text thread. They had messaged her first,

Hey. Thanks for reaching out. I’ll have the stuff together for the end of the week as promised.

Great! Looking forward to it.

When’s your fiancé out next? I can drop by your place if you want.

He usually works late every day so whenever is good. Lunch tomorrow maybe?

Yeah, sounds good. See you then :)

There was only one other date that they had messaged – at least by text – and it was also a short yet cryptic conversation.

If you’re ready today I can come by. Daniel’s held up in meetings so I’m alone.

Yeah that’s fine. I’m at the Lincoln Motel in Pasadena. Room 19. Come by whenever.

1559 Lincoln Ave

Okay! I’ll head over now. I’m excited! :)

The green monster was never a kind friend, dear reader, and I couldn’t help but feel near sick again with the question as to if my wife had been cheating on me. Sure, I was no perfect man and I seemed to put a lot of my efforts into my work – maybe more than I should have – but never would I have dreamt about being unfaithful to her. Seemed as though she had thought differently. I locked Avalon’s phone and slid it in my pocket as I stood up, trying to act like it was something that just rolled off my back.

“What the fuck.” Jonah breathed.

I pushed a hand through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck tensely, ignoring his rhetorical question.

“You okay?” Jonah asked, setting his hand on my shoulder.

“Fine.” I nodded stiffly.

“Do you want to stop by the motel?”

I contemplated his offer for a moment. It was on the way out of state anyway and it would have been nice to get some answers. Maybe it would even help me figure out what happened to Avalon. This mysterious J person wasn’t necessarily in my good books at the moment.

“Yeah. We should.” I finally answered.

The first step before we could leave was to clean up the brutal scene that I had found myself amidst just in case anyone was to come past while we were gone. Our safest bet was to keep Avalon with us until we figured out what had happened; this was imperative especially if it came to the possible outcome where I had killed her. I grabbed an extra towel from under the sink in the studio and Jonah and I stood beside the body.

“Jesus Christ.” Jonah breathed as we stared at her.

I held the towel out to him, “You tuck this under her. I’ll lift her up.”

He nodded silently and watched as I stepped over my wife who was still laying out over the ruined rug. With one foot on either side of her, I bent down and slid my hands under her armpits and just around her back. She was terribly cold and I could feel it through the shirt she was still wearing. Ironic choice of words, but it was chilling.

Jonah slid the towel underneath her and the strain of me holding her limp body up caused more blood to trickle out of the gash across her neck and I looked away to keep from seeing any more. Waking up in it was enough. We moved down her body and I held up her hips so Jonah could tug the towel completely underneath her.

“Let’s move her to the hardwood.” I instructed flatly and we each took two corners of the towel to hoist her up off the blood-soaked rug.

Jonah and I shuffled across the studio and gently set her down on the hardwood in front of the front door to keep her off the rug. The knife still rested on the carpet, glinting teasingly in the late morning sun and I finally worked up the nerve to bend down and pick it up.

“I’ll leave you alone when you get it through your head what a psychotic bitch you’re being!”

“I’m psychotic?” she shrieked, whipping around to face me once we both entered the studio and I flicked on the light. The large collection of wedding gifts was piled neatly along the kitchenette counter and on the couch, the rest of the small single room building taken up by all of my music equipment. Avalon got right up in my face, pointing her finger at me behind furious brown eyes, and screaming until the minimal soundproofing almost muffled the edges of her voice, “Look at yourself! Screaming at me for simply missing my husband on our honeymoon! You’re so fucking psychotic it’s nearly goddamn comedic!”

“I’m not going to keep having this same argument with you, Avalon! I’m getting so sick of needing to defend myself against you time and time again! You just don’t respect me or my job!”

“Who even are you?” she scoffed humourlessly, “It’s nothing about respect, it’s about you being a decent human being – a decent husband – and actually showing me that you care about me!”

“Avalon, I swear to God if you don’t-”

“If I don’t what? Shut up? Be a good little wife and shut up and look pretty for you? Big important business tycoon Daniel Seavey is going to…do what exactly?”

With the knife in my hand, my eyes drifted to the stack of wedding gifts on the studio couch, the thin polished wooden box on the top capturing my attention. The lid was left open, revealing the velvet trimmed interior and the rest of the silver knives resting in a row inside. It was a wedding gift from my brother, the high-end knife set purchased and engraved with our surname on each dark wooden handle until they looked no less than ridiculously expensive and classy. The one empty slot in the velvet box had its assigned subject resting in my hand, the largest knife from the box weighing down in my fingers.

How strange and ironic it is; Avalon killed by a knife wielding her own surname. The surname only given to her a mere three weeks earlier. I had no time to stew on that, however, as I was sure that the fact she wasn’t at work that morning (and that neither was I) would start to raise suspicions. We had to get out of there before someone came looking for us.

I took the knife to the sink in the kitchenette along the far wall of the studio and turned on the hot water to rinse the blood off the blade. I found myself trembling slightly as I scrubbed, my hands struggling to keep still even under the warmth of the water. The red stained the water and flooded around the base of the stainless-steel sink as the drain pulled it down and soon my hands and the knife were left clean and spotless.

Jonah had the rug rolled up from the floor by the time I finished cleaning the knife and I thanked him quietly as I set the chef’s knife back in its slot in the wooden box. The handles stared back at me, twelve identical silver engravings of my surname staring back at me as if they knew what I had possibly done. I closed the lid and snapped the silver clasps shut.

“What do we do with the rug?” I asked my best friend.

Jonah exhaled deeply and brushed the back of his hand over his forehead. He thought for a minute before replying, “Bring it with us?”

I nodded in agreement, “Okay. I’ll grab my keys.”

I headed back into the main house quickly to grab my keys and anything else I might want to bring with me. My laptop case was an obvious and I tucked Avalon’s letter in my bag too just in case I might need it again while figuring everything out.

I was ready for a quick getaway but of course that would have been too easy. Another thing that drove my wife insane? The fact that I constantly was losing everything. My keys were usually the victim of my carelessness and this moment was obviously no exception. I couldn’t find them anywhere, along the front console table or in my laptop bag or on the kitchen counter.

Jonah stepped inside the back door again, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” I rushed back down the hallway to the master bedroom, scanning the side tables and the front pocket of our packed suitcase hurriedly.

Time wasn’t on our side and my tendency to misplace everything I own certainly wasn’t helping. On my way back down the hallway, I caught myself on the doorway to the walk-in-closet when I saw a glint out of the corner of my eye and stepped back to see my keys peeking out of my jean’s pocket. You would think I would have checked their first. Well, sorry to break it to you, but nothing was going as expected that morning.

I grabbed my keys from my blood-stained jeans and stuffed the hoodie and pants into my laptop bag too. I stopped to grab a baseball hat and set it on my head followed by my darkest sunglasses I had in my closet to try and keep some sort of physical neutrality for going into public before meeting Jonah back on the porch. I held my keys up to him as I walked right past him and around the side of the house to the gate. He followed right behind me with the expensive box of knives in hand.

The driveway backed right onto the side gate and I unlatched it and pulled the white pickets open to let ourselves through. Ah yes, my pretty expensive Los Angeles house and my white picket fence and my dead wife. Really living the perfect American dream, huh?

I unlocked my Tesla and yanked open the back door to toss in my overflowing laptop bag and Jonah’s heavy work bag while Jonah opened the trunk and tucked the knife set in the corner. We hurried back down the driveway towards the studio door and slipped back inside, stepping over Avalon to grab the rug first. We each took an end of the heavy rolled up vintage Persian and took it down to my car. I was lucky my car had been parked in reverse in the driveway which prevented any neighbours from possibly seeing us loading the trunk with questionable items.

The last thing we needed to take care of was Avalon but we couldn’t necessarily carry her outside in a blood streaked towel. We stood over her in thought of what to do next. We needed something to keep it discreet while still being able to keep her in one piece. There was no way I would be able to stomach cutting any limbs. I had gone through enough that morning as it was.

My eyes scanned my studio for any possible solution to our situation and quickly landed on one of the large travel cases I used for my production keyboard. I looked back down at Avalon’s body and then back to the long trunk.

This was insane.

I stepped over her and walked over to the corner of the studio where the travel trunks were stacked up. I moved a few smaller ones from the top and Jonah came over to help me once he caught on to what I was doing. I flipped open the top of the trunk and made sure it was empty except for the thin plush padding that lined the interior.

I refrained from making a joke about it at least being a comfortable place for her to lay.

Jonah and I each took an end of the towel again and hoisted her stiff body up and over to the trunk and lowered her in slowly. I made sure the towel was tucked inside and that her arms and legs were resting flatly before closing the lid and buckled up the case. Jonah and I met each other’s eyes over top of the trunk but didn’t speak a word before picking up either end and made our way out of the studio.

The walk down the side of the house to the driveway felt like forever. There we were, in broad daylight, on a regular Tuesday morning, carrying a dead body into the trunk of my car. The production case fit nicely into the trunk – I knew it would from the amount of times I had to bring it into work or over to Jonah’s house – and I shut the trunk over top of it. I let out a shaky exhale and Jonah and I glanced blankly at each other.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15

#🔪#daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 5 years ago

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Fake Fic Title: Lost in Your Eyes

First of all I am so so so so so so so so sorry I thought I answered this days ago and then I realized no, I had not. This is the third part to [ thoughts of yesterday & august rush ] and while I originally planned to write smutty times here, I didn’t. I just wanted to focus on the emotions, idk. That being said, I really, really hope you enjoy this. I enjoyed writing it, even if I wanna punch my own throat for leaving it on a cliffhanger for now.

Warnings: injury to a character, hinted at sexual encounter, someone who knows not fuck all about law enforcement or organized crime cautiously attempting to write about it.

Tag Squad:

@kyleoreillysknee @rampagewriting @writertoo18 @thatnerdwriter @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure @chasingeverybreakingwave @unabashedwrestlefics @cabotcoves @heelsamizayn @missjenniferb @adampage @cowboyshit @dietwrestling

[ tag list ] | [ masterlist ] [ about ]

“What do you mean one of my men isn’t loyal to us?”

“Well, someone had to know where that deal was going down tonight. The cops were all over it, man. All I’m saying is somethin is off with that Andrew kid you just hired. And the fact that your daughter hasn’t run him off yet, well.. You know how much she hates the business.”

Lucca rubbed his chin in thought and sighed, giving a sad headshake. “We’ll get our guy on it. If anybody can turn up skeletons in the closet, it’s him. In the meantime, I want your eyes on him. Got it?”

“Got it, sir.” Dante nodded as he rose from his seat. He’d gotten to the door when Lucca called his name.

“On second thought… I just have a hunch. My daughter’s up to something. A father knows. And I don’t like it. I think maybe she needs to be shown what fear feels like. She needs to be reminded what happens when you turn your back on family.”

“Sir..” Dante tried to object, but one look at his boss’ face told the tale. The man was not going to hear a counter argument. Either he did as asked, or he risked himself.

“Nothing serious. Just a close call. That ought to bring her back to her senses. Can you handle that?” Lucca asked the question dismissively, his mind already made up. Perhaps he’d been too soft on his daughter. She was obviously spoiled. Something had to be done to remind her where her loyalties should always lie.

Dante eyed the man, but at the look in his eyes, he gulped and quickly agreed. Nobody liked pissing off Lucca DeLaurentis and several who had over the years had conveniently disappeared, never to be seen again.

Dante had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what happened to those dumb enough to cross his boss, and he knew that his life wasn’t something he was willing to play around with. So, he’d have to come up with something.

I rolled over, lazily throwing my leg over Drew’s hips and his hand raised, giving my bare thigh a squeeze. He folded his arms behind his head and I moved myself so that I was draped over him as I tried to catch my breath, giggling into his chest as I rose up slightly, walking my fingers over bare skin.

He bit his lip and sucked in a deep breath, chuckling quietly while pouting and trying to wrangle me back to lay down on top of him. His lips brushed my forehead when he’d succeeded and as we lie there, tangled up in sheets and each other’s bodies, I asked quietly, “So.. did your handler get the flash drive?”

“He did. And thanks to it, they made a really big bust on the docks tonight.”

I cozied up to Drew even more. I can’t help but worry that any second, one of those assholes working with my father will put two and two together and realize that one, Drew isn’t who he says he is and two, I may or may not have been planning to bring my father down for a while now.

Only an insider could’ve known what was going down tonight. If they got curious, and I knew they would, it was only a matter of time. Drew and I were literally on borrowed time right now and the realization was starting to hit me like a brick wall…

I didn’t want anything to happen to us. I liked us just like we were. I especially didn’t want my father doing something to make Drew disappear.

I shivered at the thought and Drew lowered an arm from behind his head, wrapping it around me as he kissed my forehead again. “Don’t start panicking on me now, Cat. I’ve told you already… Everything will be fine. And then we’ll get out of here.”

“I know, but..” I trailed off as the side of his index finger pressed into my lips, cutting off the flow of my words. He shook his head firmly. “No buts.”

But it’s hard for me not to lie here and worry. I know that eventually, especially if what Drew just told me about the bust at the docks tonight is true, someone will figure out what’s going on… at least some of it.

I don’t want something to happen to Drew that’s my fault indirectly.

Dante stood in the alley, waiting. He knew Catalina’s schedule well enough that he felt confident he could grab her without Drew even realizing. As she walked past, too busy with her cell phone to notice his presence, Dante stepped out, slipping up behind her.

When they got up the block a bit further, when he was out of eyesight, he made his move. His hand covered her mouth and he pressed the blade against her throat carefully, sure that it wouldn’t actually cut her or draw blood. The boss would kill him if he did that. He only wanted Catalina scared, not dead.

“You’ve been a real bad girl, Catalina. The boss isn’t pleased with you at all.”

Catalina fought and tried to wrench herself free, but the grip Dante had on her prevented that and he knew it. What Dante wasn’t counting on was Drew coming up behind him and hitting him in the back, giving Catalina a chance to break free and run.

“Go! Get out of here now, Cat!” Drew called out in his best calm and firm tone when Catalina didn’t automatically do that. She stood there, frozen as the two men fought over the knife, rolling around on the ground.

“STOP!”

Her screams were meant to draw attention to the scuffle, but it failed because nobody on this part of town really gave a damn about two men fighting over a weapon. It happened so much that people had grown blind to it.

Frustrated, she let her eyes dart around desperately until they settled on a scrap of lumber nearby.

Before she could get to it, however, sirens came blaring down the street, stopping all around them, an attempt to block the exit of her father’s masked henchman. She let out a ragged breath, only to feel her stomach sink when she saw the street light above bounce off the silver of the blade.

“DREW LOOK OUT!”

He turned and grabbed for the man’s wrist, managing to hold off a surprise attack and the entire time, Catalina wanted to throw up. The second the other agents got her father’s henchman under control, she didn’t think, she just ran.

Straight to his arms.

“Do you see what I mean? I almost fucking lost you.” I took his face in my hands, making him look at me, desperate for him to understand what I was saying. Instead, he shook his head, only barely managing to hide the rage he was feeling.

“Your father...really sent someone to scare you. Christ.”

“That’s dear old dad.” I shrugged, going silent. “Every single time I almost get away, he pulls something out of his ass. God I hope what I gave you is enough to finally make something stick. I’ll go to court and dance in victory when they sentence him.”

“If I hadn’t come out after you… Cat, you have to stay close.”

I nodded, too afraid to argue. The situation was only just now becoming painfully clear to me, the lengths my dad was apparently willing to go to to keep me from running, spilling everything I knew. He’d done some crazy things before but he’d never once resorted to sending a goon to try and grab me at knifepoint. Just the rehash in my head had me shivering all over and Drew hugged me against him.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to talk to Daniel about protection for you. Because I can’t suddenly stop showing up or your father will really suspect something.”

“Apparently, he already does.”

“And thank God you let me handle the flash drive and it’s contents, sweetheart, if you…” he trailed off, hauling me completely against him.

“Can we just go back to my apartment? Please? I’m.. too shaken up to do anything else. And you’re bleeding, what the hell?”

I gaped at the blood soaking through the sleeve of his shirt and grabbed hold of his hand, trying to drag him back towards my building.

He caught up to me, bringing us to a stop, staring down at me with his hands on my hips. “That was too close.”

“It was.” I agreed quietly, migrating even closer to him, our bodies rubbing against each other lightly, only adding a layer of urgency to the tension built between us at the moment. I nodded to his wound and then to my building. “We have to get that cleaned.”

“Okay, alright. Fine.” Drew caved in, following me up to my apartment.

The second we stood in front of my door, he pushed me back against it, his hands all over me, kissing me anywhere he had access to. I bit my lip and shivered at how good it felt and pleaded again, “Drew.. Not that I..” the words tore from my mouth in a breathy gasp as my back arched because he managed to find that one spot on the side of my neck that he knows full well drives me insane, “Not that I’m complaining… But have you forgotten about your little injury? I need to patch you up, baby and I can’t…” I gasped out, rubbing against him as his hand settled between my thighs, cupping and squeezing at my throbbing heat, “with you doing all of this.”

He pressed into me heavily, taking several deep breaths; attempting to calm himself down. Both of us were still on edge, our adrenaline only really just starting to ebb. His hands moved up and down my sides before finally coming to a stop on my face, fingertips brushing at my bangs to smooth them back as he stared up at me intently. “I could’ve lost you out there. Kind of having a moment here, okay?” he muttered against my mouth as he leaned in, a hand leaving my cheek, those fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer and his other hand drifted back down, starting to rub me through my clothes all over again as he bucked against me a little.

I nipped at his lip, my teeth tugging, a hand carding his scalp as I muttered simply, “You didn’t, okay? You didn’t and you said you had this under control and I… I believe you. I trust you, Drew. Now please… Let me patch you up.”

We locked eyes and I found myself sinking, drowning in the smouldering gaze he gave. Lost in it. I took a few shaky breaths and leaned myself against him to further try calming down. “Everything is going to be okay. We just have to make it through all of this.” I did my best to reassure him, even though deep down, I was a little more than afraid.

If my father sent Dante to scare me, what would he do if he even thought Drew wasn’t on the level?

#adampage

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cornishbirdblog · 5 years ago

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“A man will go to the devil pretty fast in Tombstone . . . Faro, whiskey, and bad women will beat anyone.” George Parsons diary, September 1880

Tombstone is known as ‘the town too tough to die’. This is the town of Wyatt Earp and the gunfight at the OK Corral. A town of saloons and gambling dens, cowboys and wild women. A boomtown where the mines produced millions of dollars of silver in just a few short years. It is a true legend of the wild west of America.

Allen Street, in old Tombstone

And it was in Tombstone on 23rd February 1883 that May Woodman shot and killed William Kinsman. Even in a town used to gun fights and violent deaths the murder of Kinsman was shocking to say the least. And the story of his death and the trial that followed continues to intrigue.

A Cornish Childhood

William ‘Billy’ Kinsman was born in Gwennap in 1854. The eldest son of John Kinsman and Catherine Bray, who had married around 1850. John was a miner, a trade his son followed him in to as soon as he was able.

William ‘Billy’ Kinsman

In 1879, or thereabouts, Billy emigrated to the USA. At some point his parents took the huge step of joining him. The other children, Billy’s three sisters – Catherine, Mary Ann and Elizabeth – came too.

Initially Billy found work in a mine in Virginia City, Nevada. Then in 1880 he moved south to Tombstone, Arizona with John and Catherine. The family moved to a house on the corner of Toughnut Street and Seventh Street.

Tombstone from the air in 2019, showing Allen Street and Toughnut Street below

Presumably Billy and his father began work at one of the Tombstone mines in the hills surrounding the town. All appears to have been quiet with the family until 1883. It ws then that Billy was shot dead in the street outside the Oriental Saloon.

A Sporting Man

Billy Kinsman is described by one newspaper as ‘a sporting man’ and he was reportedly a frequenter of saloons and gambling dens. And in Tombstone there were plenty of such establishments to choose from.

A local favourite was the Oriental Saloon, built by the Earp brothers in 1880 on the corner of Allen and Fifth Streets. It was said to be the most elegant place ‘between Chicago and San Francisco’ and it offered the punter a lavishly decorated interior as well as the usual stage entertainment and gaming tables.

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Virgil Earp was shot leaving the Oriental a short time after the gunfight at the OK Corral. And it was near this spot that Billy too met his end.

May Woodman

Born Mary McIntyre to Henry and Ellen McIntyre in 1855, May Woodman was already estranged from her husband Lewis (or Louis) by the time of the 1880 census. In 1881 Lewis placed an advertisement in the Tombstone Epitaph, the town’s aptly named newspaper.

“To whom it may concern. I hereby warn all persons against giving my wife Mary Woodman any credit on my account as I will not be responsible for any debts contracted by her. She having left my bed and board without just cause or provocation, signed Louis C Woodman.”

It seems clear that Lewis suspected his wife (who seems to alternate between calling herself Mary or May) of some impropriety. Some reports published after the shooting suggest that Billy and May already knew each other well at this time and were perhaps even living together. But the real catalyst for the disaster that followed came later that same year in December 1881.

An Unmitigated Falsehood

A notice was placed in the Tombstone Epitaph on 22nd December. It announced the engagement of May and Billy Kinsman. The story however was a practical joke, a prank executed by friends of Kinsman. They changed May’s name but the joke was probably very obvious to everyone in such a small town.

To make matters worse three days later the Epitaph printed the following at Billy’s request:

“Some unprincipled person came into this office a few days ago and requested us to publish the announcement of a marriage between William Kinsman and May Holzerman, which we did. It has since been discovered that no such occurrence ever took place, the alleged bridegroom denounces the statement as an unmitigated falsehood.”

Billy’s very public rejection of May must have been hurtful and not a little embarrassing. He and his friends had made a fool of her. How long she had been planning what happened a few weeks later isn’t clear, but there is no doubt this cruel prank is what set all in motion.

Murder in Tombstone

Allen Street was the main thoroughfare through Tombstone then as it is today. Lined with shady wooden boardwalks and bustling with shops, saloons and stagecoaches.

At about 10 o’clock on 23rd February 1883 a labourer, Alphanzo Ayala was standing on the street opposite the Oriental Saloon. He told the coroner he saw Mrs. Woodman and Billy Kinsman talking, though he couldn’t hear what about. May, he said, had one hand beneath her cloak while she spoke. Then, according to Ayala, quite suddenly she pulled out a pistol and shot Kinsman in his chest.

The Oriental Saloon on the corner of Allen & Fifth street where Billy was shot.

Thomas Keefe, a carpenter and another witness standing close by, gave testimony that he heard the shot and then saw Kinsman fold his arms across his body. As Keefe got nearer he saw that Mrs. Woodman was holding a nickel-plated ‘Bulldog’ pistol in her right hand. Keefe grabbed hold of May and asked her what she was doing.

She replied: “None of your damned business.”

May again pointed the gun at Kinsman, who was backing away from her. This time Keefe knocked her arm down and the second shot went into the wooden sidewalk. At this point the police officer James Coyle arrived and also took hold of May. Both men reported that she was calm and quiet.

H. M. Matthews, the local doctor, told the court that he heard two shots and he went towards the noise. He said he found Kinsman lying on the ground. The shot had entered the left side of his chest below the nipple and exited below his right shoulder blade. Kinsman dies of his injuries about two hours later. According to the doctor the cause of death was most likely an internal haemorrhage.

The Trial

The jury consisted of nine men. They, along with the coroner Pat Holland, and then later Judge Pinney, heard all the evidence from the various witnesses.

Besides what actually happened that day, more details, details that paint Billy in a rather unkind light were revealed during the course of the trial.

Dr. George Goodfellow, who spoke for the defence, claimed that May was pregnant at the time of her arrest. Goodfellow also claimed that she had attempted suicide while in jail and had apparently had a miscarriage because of ill treatment.

Another doctor, Daniel McSwegan testified that before the tragic events he had been summoned to the Woodman house by May and Billy. The couple questioned him as to the probable paternity of May’s unborn child. Apparently May was unsure that Billy was the father, he only had one testicle and she thought him infertile. Of course the inference there is that there were also other candidates for father of the baby.

And May was described by one newspaper as a ‘friend of the cowboys’, whatever we are to take that to mean. McSwegan also told the court that the couple had asked for a potion for May to take to end the pregnancy. He claims he refused to provide it.

Tombstone Courthouse

The Verdict

All the evidence was heard by the beginning of May, 1883. During his summing up for the jury the judge Daniel Pinney added:

“Although the jury may believe from the evidence that the deceased and the defendant lived together in open adultery and although the jury may further believe from the evidence that the deceased got the defendant in the family way and that deceased tried to have the defendant take medicine for the purpose of procuring an abortion still all this would not justify the defendant in taking the life of the deceased.”

The jury returned their verdict in just half an hour. Although May had been charged with murder the jury found her guilty of the lesser crime of manslaughter and sentenced her to five years in Yuma Prison. After her sentence was read out May yelled, “May God curse you forever.”

There are a number of questions left unanswered by the newspaper reports and the transcripts of the trial. Was May indeed pregnant and was the child Billy’s? Did Billy feel he was being trapped into marriage? Did he ask her to get rid of the baby or was that her idea? How could May have expected to marry Billy when she was still married to Louis? And we must remember that Billy wasn’t able to tell his side of the story.

Boothill Graveyard

Billy Kinsman was buried in the infamous Boothill graveyard on the edge of Tombstone.

Opened in 1878 the burial plot became the resting place of the growing town’s more unfortunate pioneers. Buried there are Tombstone’s outlaws and their victims, the town’s hangings, linchings and suicides. Two hundred and fifty souls.

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Billy Kinsman was one of the last to be buried there. The cemetery closed in 1884.

The End?

May was only the second woman to be imprisoned in Yuma and there is some indication that she may have been sexually abused by the staff.

Her mother swiftly began a campaign to have her pardoned which gathered around 200 signatures from the residents of Tombstone, including most of the jurors. In August 1883, barely 3 months into her sentence, H. M. Van Arman, acting governor of Arizona, granted May a conditional pardon.

May had testified during the trial that she suffered from insanity. She had suggested the judge “contact San Francisco for proof”, whatever that means . . . and so Van Arman decided he must protect his citizens. He decided that May could go free as long as she never returned to Arizona.

May Woodman only served a few months of her sentence for shooting Billy Kinsman. She was finally released on 15th May 1884 and was never seen again. Reports say she was heading for California.