Transcript of Lizzie Borden Took an Axe...Or Did She?

Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother 40 whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father 41. That's right. While you were jumping rope to that rhyme, you were learning about one of the most grisly killings in American history, and it's probably stuck with you ever since. Because let's face it, it's a bop. And a musical this fall on Broadway, directed by Sam Pinkleton. But as in the case with most true crime stories, sometimes the legend grows bigger than the reality.

Sometimes the catchiest songs drown out the truth. Because even though Lizzie Borden was acquitted of the murders of her father and stepmother, that's not what we remember. But we're not here to sing along with the rhyme. We're here to ask the question the song doesn't even consider: if Lizzie Borden didn't kill her parents, then who did? I'm Harvey Guillen, and this is Killer Stories.

There's a reason I wanted to mention cases like O.J. Simpson at the top of this episode: another so-called crime of the century that captivated a nation and spawned its own cottage industry. I did so in part because the Lizzie Borden story was kind of like the O.J. of its day: a grotesque double murder among the wealthy and elite, a loved one charged with the crime, a murder weapon never found, all breathlessly covered by a press who couldn't resist retelling the juiciest details, no matter how truthful they actually were.

Both cases have actually inspired Ryan Murphy shows, but we'll get to all that later when Ryan Murphy joins us in—what's that? We'll get to that part later, period. I'm being told by my lawyers. First, we have to go back to the end of the 19th century, to inside the walls of the Borden home. By the late 1800s, Andrew Borden has become one of the most influential men in Fall River, Massachusetts, a working-class coastal town closer to Rhode Island than it is to Boston.

Andrew grew up as the son of a fish peddler, but as an adult he makes a small fortune making furniture and caskets. Not caskets for fish. I checked. He turns that fortune into real estate investments, and he also lands big-time jobs at a few local banks and textile mills. By 1892, he's worth close to $500,000, more than $10 million in today's money. But Andrew's got a reputation for being, let's say, prickly.

He's also considered a tightwad. He wears old ratty ties and shockingly bad hats. Seriously, that's a quote about his hats. There's also a rumor that as a casket maker, he'd cut the feet off bodies just to save a few bucks on wood. Jeez. The biggest sign of his penny-pinching, however, is the home he lives in with his family: a small, narrow house at 92 2nd Street in a busy neighborhood, not exactly befitting someone of Andrew's stature.

Seriously, this thing is short on amenities. There's only one flush toilet, and it's located all the way in the basement. It also has no upstairs hallways. I guess they just waste space. Instead, the bedrooms all open into each other. Safe to say it's a little cramped in there for the Borden clan. The family includes Andrew's daughter, Lizzie—yes, she was born Lizzie, not Elizabeth—and her sister, Emma.

Emma's about 10 years older than Lizzie and typically referred to as reserved and private, especially when compared to her sister. Lizzie's outgoing. She's a Sunday school teacher for local Chinese immigrants. She's also treasurer of the Young Women's Christian Temperance Union. Maybe not exactly a party person, but generally a well-liked, well-regarded young Protestant woman. As for Emma and Lizzie's mother, well, Sarah Morse Borden sadly dies before Lizzie is even 3 years old.

And on her deathbed, Sarah makes Emma promise to always look after baby Lizzie. A few years after Sarah dies, Andrew gets married again to a woman named Abby Gray. I would tell you more about Abby, but truthfully, not much has been written about her background. Some people speculate that Andrew marries Abby mostly because he needs a housekeeper. But also, it's worth noting that the Bordens actually do have a live-in maid, an Irish immigrant named Bridget Sullivan that they call Maggie, which was the name of a previous servant they had.

Really cool, guys. Really cool. Try learning people's names, okay? And by 1892, Andrew and the three Borden ladies and Bridget are living together in that small space. Now, the family is not exactly a picture of harmony, mainly because neither Lizzie nor Emma have ever liked Abby. You know how it can be between stepparents and stepkids. Jeez. Plus, in this case, there's an added layer. Emma took on a maternal role with Lizzie, partially because of her mother's dying wish.

So Emma's resistant to any of Abby's attempts to step into those motherly shoes. And as the girls get older, the situation gets worse. Emma and Lizzie take their meals separate from Andrew and Abby, and at one point, Lizzie stops referring to Abby as mother. Instead, she goes with the more formal Mrs. Borden. The riff gets even worse when Andrew, the tightwad, buys a house for Abby's relatives in 1887.

And even if Andrew isn't exactly throwing his money around, he's still taking care of his family. That's the lay of the land in August 1892, when the events of today's story begin. Well, they actually start a few days before the infamous killings. They start possibly with a batch of bad swordfish. It's Wednesday, August 3rd, and Abby Borden is at her doctor's house telling him that she thinks her family has been poisoned.

Emma's out of town, so she's fine, but Abby and Andrew have been taking turns vomiting violently. Lizzie's been a little sick too, though. She's escaped the worst of it. The doctor isn't convinced they've been poisoned, however. He says it's probably the summer complaint, which is a common ailment back then at that time of year. And if it's not the summer sickness, then maybe it's the leftover swordfish the family ate on Tuesday night. But Lizzie is also worried.

She thinks that someone's out to get her family. That same evening, she visits her friend, Alice Russell, and spends 2 hours talking about it. There'd been a break-in at the Borden house the previous year, and more recently, she'd heard her father in the house arguing with a man that had come over to discuss rental property. Lizzie never sees the man, but she does say she has seen someone lurking outside her home recently. And now her family is violently ill.

Lizzie also suspects poisoning. She thinks someone's targeting her dad. Lizzie tells Alice, and I quote, "I'm afraid sometimes that somebody will do something to him. He is so discourteous to people." But despite Lizzie's worries about a shadowy figure lurking outside her home, there's only been one confirmed unexpected visitor at the Borden residence: Lizzie and Emma's uncle, John Morse, their birth mother's brother. John Morse rolls into town unannounced that Wednesday, the same day everyone gets sick.

Which, okay, it's not like he could have texted in advance back then. I get that. I get it. But it does seem like a rather hastily planned visit. He doesn't even bring a toothbrush. Between the Bordens' vomiting and John's dental hygiene, someone gets this family some breathman's stat. The Borden family also spends that Wednesday evening sick. They'd eaten some mutton stew that had been left on the stove for days. Ugh. After the swordfish day before. And I simply can't—I can't with this family.

I'm sorry. Learn your lesson. Fool me once with swordfish, shame on me. Fool me twice with mutton, shame on you, Bordens. That's on you. Can someone teach them how to use a damn ice box? Sorry, I had to say that. But on the morning of Thursday, August 4th, they're somehow feeling well enough to eat again. Uh-oh. Watch out. At about 7:00 a.m., Abby, Andrew, and John share breakfast. Then John leaves the house at about 8:45 to visit another niece across town and buy a pair of oxen.

Lizzie comes down to the kitchen a few minutes later, right before her father leaves at around 9:00 a.m. Bridget, the maid, is throwing up, but Abby tells her to get up and go clean the windows outside because that's her job after all, in that god-awful August heat. Then Abby heads upstairs to make Uncle John's bed in the guest room. What's that smell? Who cares? I don't mind. Make the bed. That leaves Lizzie alone downstairs. She says that she spends the next 90 minutes doing the most mundane things imaginable.

We're talking reading, ironing, eating pears. And then she heads to the barn to look for fishing lures. Just, you know, normal stuff for a bored woman in the Gilded Age, I guess. At about 10:45 a.m., Andrew returns home. We know that's the time because the door's locked and bolted from the inside. Bridget, the maid, is still washing windows with a bad stomach outside when she hears Andrew struggling to get in. So she comes over to help him unlock it, and as she's fumbling with the bolts, she shouts a curse word: "Pesah!"

Great curse word. Basically, back then, it's the equivalent of "damn it." But when she shouts it, Bridget says someone upstairs is laughing at her. She can't tell who it is, but she could swear it sounds like Lizzie. Where Lizzie actually is when Andrew arrives home will come into play later. But when he greets his daughter, he asks where Abby went. And Lizzie says, "Um, well, her stepmom had received a note that morning.

Someone had fallen ill and Abby needed to come visit." The story's short on specifics, on who or where this sick person is, who had delivered the note, or even what time Abby had left the house. But Andrew's either satisfied with Lizzie's answer or still feeling ill from the swordfish and mutton. He'd rather lie down than ask more questions. So he goes into the sitting room, folds his coat into a pillow, rests his head, and closes his eyes.

Within minutes, Lizzie would call out that Andrew is dead, hacked beyond recognition with a hatchet. 40 minutes later, Abby's body would also be discovered upstairs. She had fallen victim to the same fate. And within days, if not hours, the police are going to make a decision that will define this case for the next 130 years. They're going to stop asking who killed Andrew and Abby Borden and start asking how it could have been anybody but Lizzie.

Andrew had been struck 10 or 11 times with a sharp blade. One of his eyes has been split into two. Now, as for Abby, her body is found at 11:40 in the upstairs guest room. It took a while to find her, which may seem odd, but remember, this is a narrow house with odd angles, interlocking rooms, and no hallways upstairs. It's hard to find something unless you're specifically looking for it. That goes not just for Abby, but also for anyone hiding out in the home, including unwelcome visitors.

But as for suspects, the police start by looking for an intruder. Anyone who may have snuck in, maybe when Lizzie went to go look for fishing lures. And if the killer is wandering around the neighborhood, they should be easy to spot, right? Because it's broad daylight in a busy part of town, and this lunatic would be drenched in blood. But no one turns up. So what do the police do? They do the next best thing they can think of: rally up some Portuguese immigrants.

And guess what? Portuguese immigrants are all over southeastern Massachusetts and usually are used as scapegoats for the Anglo-Saxon elite. So they bring them in and they question them. And wouldn't you know it? They're innocent. Totally innocent. So the attention turns to the people staying in the Borden residence. One can be ruled out immediately: Lizzie's sister, Emma, who's visiting friends in Fairhaven, Massachusetts, about 20 miles away. So what about John Morse? Lizzie and Emma's uncle.

If this were a fictional story, John would be a perfect suspect, a family member who rolls into town unexpectedly the day before the killings, who sleeps in the very room where one of the bodies is discovered. John's background even fits what police could be looking for. In a past life, he was a butcher. His looks are also described as pretty severe. He's got a dark beard that goes down to his collar, and they say his eyes are ready to bulge from their sockets.

I mean, that doesn't sound not scary. One problem with the John theory, however, he has an airtight alibi. On the morning of the murders, he leaves the Borden house early to buy some oxen and visit his niece across town. John says he doesn't leave the other niece's house until 11:20, and his relatives back him up. It's enough to rule John out as a suspect. So that leaves the only two living people confirmed to be in the Borden home at the time of the killings: Bridget Sullivan, the maid, and Lizzie herself.

Let's start with Bridget. Police initially suspect her. She's not only an outsider and a lowly servant, she's also an Irish immigrant, and that alone made her suspicious back then. But throughout the investigation, Bridget's story remained steady, and even Lizzie's story gives her an alibi. She says that Bridget was cleaning windows outside with a bad tummy ache when Abby would have been killed. So that leaves just Lizzie Borden, the Sunday school teacher, the doting daughter who loved her father, even as her relationship with her stepmom remained cold.

A 5'3", 32-year-old woman who you'd have to believe is strong enough to wield a hatchet and swing it hard enough to pulverize a loved one's face. What we're going to do now is walk through the case against Lizzie Borden, why the police focused on her, and what the prosecutors in public said about her, how her name became synonymous with these brutal hatchet killings, even though, as you'll see, there's no real evidence against her.

The first thing we have to know is there's not even a single visible drop of blood on Lizzie when the bodies are discovered. To think Lizzie killed her dad, you'd have to think that she butchered him around 10:55 a.m. and then cleaned herself up from all the blood and guts and composed herself before she calls out that she's found his body at 11:00 a.m. So instead of logic and hard evidence, the police are going off something else.

Let's say vibes. And that starts with Lizzie's demeanor, particularly with investigators. Anyone who interacts with Lizzie shortly after the bodies are discovered notices she's distraught. A neighbor tells police that Lizzie was pale and frightened when she found her. Lizzie's friend Alice describes her as dazed. At one point, Lizzie becomes frantically worried about something more personal. See, there's a bucket of bloody towels in the basement, but it's not what you think.

You see, Lizzie's currently menstruating. And this being the 19th century, the idea of menstrual hysteria could be enough to damn her. Some things never change. Periods. Eww. Grow up, boys. But shockingly, the police don't seem to care too much about the towels. I guess it's just a little too uncomfortable for all these men. Eww. Menstrual. But the police are interested in her behavior.

Lizzie's a little more matter-of-fact with them. Investigators describe Lizzie as possessing an eerie calmness. She corrects them when they call Abby her mother instead of her stepmother, which they find suspicious. They also say she hasn't shed any tears or expressed any sorrow. Whether that's true or not, we all know that even today, a woman who doesn't perform grief properly is considered suspicious. It's to the point that after one officer speaks with Lizzie, he says, and these are his exact words, "I don't like that girl."

Soon the press would be feeding into that narrative themselves. After Abby and Andrew's funeral, the newspapers can't stop writing about Lizzie's attire. She doesn't wear a veil, and her black dress isn't made of wool. That goes against the conventions of the day, with the suggestion being that Lizzie's not properly mourning. Then there's a New York Herald interview with another uncle of Lizzie's, this one named Hiram Harrington. Uncle Hiram says that Lizzie has, and I quote, "a repellent disposition."

He also offers up a motive. He says, "Money. Unquestionably money. If Mr. Borden died, he would have left something over $500,000. And all I will say is that, in my opinion, that furnishes the only motive and a sufficient one for double murder." With uncles like that, who needs a police department conspiring against you? The newspapers also report on another troubling detail. A clerk at a drugstore says that Lizzie came into his store the day before the murders, attempting to buy prossec acid.

He says she wanted it to clean a sealskin cape, which may actually be the most horrifying set of words in this entire story. Prossec acid doubles as a poison. The clerk turns her away. You can probably see how this connects. This would have been the same day that Abby says her family had been poisoned. Now someone is claiming that Lizzie Borden attempted to buy poison around the same time. But there are a lot of problems with the clerk's story.

Lizzie denies ever stepping foot in that store. Second, the man had never actually met Lizzie before, so how could he recognize her? Third, the autopsy of Abby and Andrew actually showed no trace of poison. So it probably was the swordfish after all. And finally, and this is what really gets me, how rich do you have to be to own a sealskin cape? Seriously, that sounds like some Batman villain stuff.

Anyways, I digress. It doesn't matter that the clerk's story is full of holes. The papers run with it, with one even saying the story, quote, "has been verified by the highest authorities." By the time Lizzie's called in for an inquest the week after the killings, the coverage has reached a fever pitch. If you don't know exactly what an inquest is, that's fine. For our story, just know it's basically a hearing where Lizzie and a few other witnesses get asked a lot of questions.

It's supposed to happen before charges are filed, but it's clear that the prosecutor district attorney, Hosea Nolton, is gunning for Lizzie. And to put it mildly, the inquest doesn't go well for Lizzie. She trips up constantly. There's a back and forth about the blue dress she wore the day of the tragedy, which Lizzie says she turned over to the police. At one point, Lizzie says she's in the kitchen when Andrew comes home. At another, she says she's upstairs.

But there are some explanations for what went wrong at the hearing. Lizzie isn't allowed to have her lawyer present during the hearing, effectively denying her the right to representation. Even more troubling, she'd been prescribed a heavy dosage of morphine to calm her nerves. Now, I don't suggest this or anyone try this, but I can imagine if you were on morphine, it would be tough for you to remember if you were upstairs, downstairs, around the corner at the soda shop.

It's tough when you're on morphine. Not that I would know. Again, no one is on morphine. In the months that follow the inquest, the public gets a lot to chew on. There's a report that Emma and Lizzie are overheard arguing in the Fall River Police Station in a way that would seem to imply Lizzie's guilt. But Emma eventually denies that. Then that fall, the 40 wax rhyme makes its way to every schoolyard, hitting the billboards at number one.

And most salaciously, there's a Boston Globe article in October 1892 that quotes witnesses who say they saw Lizzie committing the crime through her window. It also contains a bombshell revelation that Lizzie's pregnant. It's implied it could be a family member's child. The only problem? Not a word of it is true. Side note, the reporter's name for the story, and I swear I didn't make this up, this is actually his name, Henry Tricky.

He got his info from a shady private detective. The Globe retracts Tricky's report almost immediately. So Tricky flees to Canada. And while he's there, he falls under a train and gets crushed to death. This has nothing to do with who killed the Borden's. It's just good editing. But back to Lizzie. As all this is happening, she's in jail waiting for official charges. In December, a report emerges about a new witness who provides damning evidence to a grand jury.

It comes out that the witness is Lizzie's friend, Alice Russell. And the new info sounds pretty suspicious. She says that she saw Lizzie burn a blue dress three days after the killings. There's nothing confirming that this is the dress Lizzie wore that fateful morning. Still, she's officially indicted following the grand jury hearing. Her trial will eventually begin in June 1893. And I don't want to make a forced comparison, but there's another similarity between Lizzie Borden's trial and O.J.

Simpson's beyond the details I mentioned earlier. Since Lizzie is rich, she's able to put together something of a legal dream team, just like O.J. did. Lizzie's team is headlined by a man named George D. Robinson. A few years earlier, Robinson had been the governor of Massachusetts, like the entire state. Talk about a power attorney. And Lizzie's going to need a good lawyer. The Court of Public Opinion has already been trying her for ten months.

At this point, it's not unreasonable to think thousands of articles have been written about her. Everything from her demeanor to her appearance to what type of juice she drank in grade school. But Robinson proves to be worth his $25,000 fee and then some. He's able to persuade the judge that neither the prossec acid story nor Lizzie's inquest testimony should be allowed as evidence. Robinson says the acid story doesn't show intent, even if it were true, which he's not conceding.

And as for the inquest interview, it took place under duress, with the sole intent of trying to get Lizzie to confess. These two things have been the most damning pieces of evidence against Lizzie, and now the jury will never hear them. The rest of the two-week trial also goes pretty terrible for the prosecution, which is again led by district attorney Hosea Nolton, which is the same guy who conducted the inquest interview. And the closest thing this story has to an antagonist and the case basically falls apart thanks to the murder weapon, or rather the lack of a murder weapon.

Because to this point, no one has ever produced the hatchet that killed Andrew and Abby, and there aren't many obvious candidates. A hatchet is found on a neighbor's roof months after the killings, but authorities rule it out pretty quickly, and it's never introduced at trial. And the blades that police took from the Borden residence are old and dull. Not exactly what you'd expect in this case. While one of those blades does contain traces of hair and blood, it turns out those likely came from a cow.

At one point, the prosecution brings out the actual skulls of Andrew and Abby. And when they have a witness try to fit the blades inside the gashes, the results are inconclusive. Ultimately, the prosecution settles on the handleless hatchet theory. Police had found a blade in the basement with most of its wood missing. The idea is that Lizzie broke the handle off and burned it to destroy blood evidence.

But a police officer testifies at trial that the handle was actually sitting right there in the box where they found the hatchet. So either Lizzie broke off a handle and then left it next to the blade, which makes no sense, or the prosecution's theory is completely wrong. The police officer's revelation elicits an audible gasp from Lizzie's lawyer. Even the district attorney is dumbstruck by what his witness has just done.

But there's still the matter of the burnt blue dress, the one her good friend testifies about before the grand jury, the one that's never been proven to be the one Lizzie wore that day. It comes up again at the trial. And her sister, Emma, says, "It's not what you think it is." She says that the dress was actually cheap, old, and ratty. And Emma says she's the one who encourages Lizzie to burn the dress. If that's not enough to clear her sister's name, Emma also provides Lizzie's bank balances and stock holdings to show she had no reason to kill her dad for money.

And then she tells the story of the ring Lizzie gifted Andrew, his prized piece of jewelry that he wore every day. So much for the prosecution's greed and hatred argument. When their mother lay dying 30 years earlier, she made Emma promise to always protect her younger sister. And now, when Lizzie needs protection most, Emma's just blown up the prosecution's last piece of evidence and their suggested motive.

But in his closing arguments, district attorney Nolton has one more card to play: gender. To this point, the prosecution has avoided that angle as an explanation for the killings, at least explicitly, even when the subject of Lizzie's menstruation and the pale of blood towels comes up. The conversation can't end quick enough. But now, as Nolton makes his final plea to the all-male jury, he has to explain how Lizzie could have committed the crimes and destroyed the murder weapon.

And he comes right out and says it. "Only a woman could have done this. It was pure, unbridled feminine rage." To quote him, "I cannot answer it. You cannot answer it. You are neither murderers nor women. You have neither the craft of the assassin nor the cunning and deafness of the sex." Jeez, brother. The jury doesn't buy it.

They deliberate for 90 minutes before they decide Lizzie's not guilty. And Lizzie Borden lives out the rest of her life as a free woman, contrary to what the famous rhyme would have you believe. But there's a reason the song has stuck around for more than a century. Because despite Lizzie's acquittal, no other suspect has ever been tried, arrested, or even seriously investigated. And the only thing we know for sure, it isn't for a lack of options.

Jose Correa de Melo will eventually plead guilty to a second-degree murder charge and serve 20 years in prison before being pardoned for reasons that aren't totally clear. Police insist that Jose had nothing to do with the Borden murders. There's a chance he may not even have immigrated to the U.S. by the time they happened. But a second hatchet killing case opens a wide world of possibilities into the eternal question, "If not Lizzie, then who?"

Over the years, some out-there ideas have been proposed. There's the man Lizzie heard Andrew arguing with about rental property shortly before the killings. Another theory involves a man named Philip Gordon Reed, who claims to be Andrew's illegitimate son. Some people have even suggested Jack the Ripper made a stateside cameo, or a wild man in the woods broke into the Borden house. We may as well throw in the Zodiac Killer and the Boogeyman while we're at it. But if we're really looking for an alternative suspect in the killings of Andrew and Abby Borden, we need to focus on the people around them at the time of their death.

First, we can quickly rule out Emma, the sister. She was 20 miles away. It's not happening in that timeframe. Okay. I think we also have to shoot down the Bridget Sullivan theory too, even though I'd love to be able to say, "The maid, the maid did it." Like in Clue, Lizzie's testimony puts Bridget outside cleaning windows while she had a terrible stomach ache at the time of Abby's death. Plus, Bridget's own testimony remains consistent throughout the ordeal and never raises suspicion.

If you think Bridget did it, you'd have to believe she acted on pretty thin motives, like that she's so upset that she had to clean windows or that the family called her Maggie instead of Bridget, that she slaughtered Abby and Andrew. But you also have to remember Bridget actually gets the worst of the food poisoning around the time of the killings. In that shape, could she have possibly swung a hatchet that many times over with enough force to shatter a skull?

It's doubtful. Over the years, there has been speculations about Bridget. Books and TV shows have suggested that she and Lizzie were lovers and that Lizzie killed her parents to keep the secret from getting out. There's also been talk of a deathbed confession and hush money, but there's no evidence to support any of that. In reality, Bridget runs as far away from Fall River as she can the moment the trial ends.

She marries and lives a quiet life, refusing to talk about the Borden family or anything about the case, even in private company. So that leaves the most interesting remaining figure in our story, at least in my view, John Morse, the uncle who shows up the day before the murders. Morse was actually considered a suspect in the hours after the murders. But remember, John does have an alibi that police consider airtight. He was visiting family across town when the killings happened, and the family can vouch for him.

But rumors persist about him to this day. His previous career as a butcher, the timing of the visit, the fact that he stayed in the room where Abby's killed, and knows all the hiding places in that strange house with no hallways upstairs. Theoretically, he doesn't need to have been in the house. All he would have needed to do is make a call. And that's an interesting idea that John even once brought up himself, that maybe the real killer didn't act alone.

Shortly after Lizzie's trial, he gives an interview where he brings up a rumor he had heard that he and Lizzie planned the murders together. Now, John says that they didn't do this, but the comment must have been interesting to District Attorney Nolton. A few months before Lizzie's trial, Nolton writes a letter to the Attorney General. In it, he openly admits that there probably isn't enough evidence to convict Lizzie by herself, but he says that it is impossible to believe that she had no knowledge of the crime.

In other words, maybe Lizzie didn't swing the hatchet herself, but she knew damn well who did. And if you accept that version of events, maybe this case starts to make a little bit of sense. In the years after her acquittal, Lizzie Borden lives a strange, mostly reclusive life. She has her share of her father's fortune now, so she moves away from Second Street and into a bigger house, still in Fall River, the Maplecroft Mansion.

And I think we can assume that this place has more than one flush toilet. Oh, yeah. She begins going by Lisbeth of Maplecroft. She adopts a few Boston Bull Terriers, which people see her taking on chauffeur drives. She makes it into the paper a few times for allegedly shoplifting, but she's never convicted. She also has a close friendship with an actress named Nancy O'Neill, which causes a lot of speculation. And for years, on the anniversaries of the killings, the newspapers will run fresh stories trying to keep the legend alive and sell a few extra copies.

For a while, her sister Emma lives at Maplecroft Mansion too, but in 1905, they have a falling out. A reason for it never becomes public, but people think it's because of Nancy O'Neill. Lizzie and Emma never speak again. Yet strangely, they died days apart from each other. First, Lizzie of pneumonia on June 1st, 1927, at age 66. Then Emma on June 10th, at age 76, as though Emma fulfilled her promise to their mother to watch over her sister, no matter what had become of their relationship.

Today, both of the remains lie next to their father, Andrew, and their birth mother, Sarah. Now, I'll admit, I still have some questions about this case. Beyond the obvious one, of course, I still wonder about the note that Lizzie says Abby receives the morning of, but that never turns up. I also think about the strange layout of the house and if a killer could have hidden undetected. There's also the hatchet that's found on a nearby roof months after the killing.

Investigators dismiss it as a coincidence, but what are the odds? These things will likely forever go unanswered. Anyone who knows who killed Andrew and Abby Borden is long gone. All we can do is speculate, which we still love to do. Look no further than the new Ryan Murphy Netflix series for proof of just that. But the idea of Lizzie Borden has become almost folklore. If you visit Fall River today, you can take a Lizzie Borden walking tour.

Or if you're brave enough, you can even stay in the Borden house, which is now a bed and breakfast. But what endures most from the Borden saga is that rhyme. Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother 40 wax. And when she saw what she had done, she gave her father 41. We know it gets the basic details wrong. So then why do we still tell ourselves that Lizzie Borden was the killer?

Well, because it makes for a damn good story. And if the Lizzie Borden case is proof of anything, it's that even in so-called true crime, people never want to let the facts get in the way of a good story. So on that note, let me leave you with a new rhyme I just came up with. Lizzie Borden took the blame. It's the only reason we know her name. But the jury said, "You're free to go."

So who's the killer? We'll never know. May not be as catchy, but it's certainly a little closer to the truth. Thanks for tuning in to Killer Stories, a Spotify podcast. New episodes release on Mondays. If you like today's story and want to learn more, we drop some of our favorite sources in the episode description. Until next time, I'm Harvey Keoghan. Stay safe out there.