Nick Vulich

Gruesome Iowa Nick Vulich

When most people think of Iowa, their minds conjure up pigs, cornfields, and crotchety old farmers. But ax murders, mass killings, and ghostly sightings - those atrocities are reserved for big cities like Chicago or LA, not a little burg like Villisca, Iowa - population 2,000.

People refuse to believe that a hundred years ago, every eye in the nation turned to Villisca, Iowa where eight people were butchered in their sleep by a madman using only an ax. Attention quickly turned to the Reverend Lyn Kelley, "a queer, strange, little preacher man," often accused of window peeping.

The police forced a confession from him.

Kelley said he was walking by the Moore house when a voice commanded him to, "Go in. Slay utterly." What could he do? He climbed the stairs and slaughtered the children. "Slay utterly. Suffer the little children."

Back downstairs, he went into the parent's bedroom. "More work yet. There must be sacrifices of blood." Again, the ax did its work.

In another downstairs bedroom, he discovered the Stillinger girls, asleep in their beds. "More work still." The ax resumed its work.

Eight people were dead. The ax was satisfied.

When Kelley recanted his confession, investigators turned their attention to Senator Frank Jones. Old-timers hinted there had been bad blood between Jones and Joe Moore (the deceased) ever since Moore left his position at Jones' farm implement store and opened the local John Deere dealership. Another rumor had it; Joe Moore was sleeping with Albert Jones' wife. But that theory didn't hold water, either. Reports linked Dona Jones to half the men in Villisca.

Detectives developed dozens of others suspects over the years, but none of them panned out. The Villisca Ax Murders remain Iowa's most famous cold-case file.

Gruesome Iowa is a collection of true-life stories - most of them rescued from old newspaper accounts published over 100 years ago. Only a few of the events in this book - such as the Villisca Ax Murders have ever made it into print. Except maybe in musky-old county histories. Even then, they are lucky to rate a paragraph.

Read them now, if you dare!