Veil of Doubt, page 35
“It’s for the best to let the matter go,” Powell said. “The election and Mrs. Lloyd.”
“Where did she move?” Matt asked. “Don’t tell me that she went to Chicago with that huckster.”
“Mrs. Greene said she left for Canada to live with her cousin. You know, the one we could never find.”
“Figures,” Matt said and headed back to his office. “As you said, it’s best to let the matter rest.”
Powell’s gaze drifted to the alley beyond the frost-etched window. He shook his head. Emily Lloyd. Following the law and finding truth hadn’t failed him before. Opening the drawer, he reached underneath his gun and removed a brown envelope. He unfastened the flap and pulled out the article he had torn from Ol’ Pat’s archived newspaper. For what must have been the hundredth time, Powell read the words:
House Fire in Clark
In the early hours of Sunday morning a fire broke out at the home of John Samson. Rescue attempts for the family were made more difficult by the inclement weather. Officials remain suspicious, as the exterior doors appeared locked from the outside. Samson and his wife, Matilda, lost their lives in the blaze. Still missing are two of three daughters, ages 12 and 8. The youngest girl, age 4, escaped the flames and was found by neighbors wandering in the snow.
After finding Emily alone at the neighboring house, Powell had traveled to Clark to confirm the fates of the older girls and his suspicions. He’d found answers to his questions in the Clark County death registry. The deaths of John and Matilda Samson were recorded on January 9, 1841. Three days later, the deaths of Lara, 12, and Lilith, 8, were added. Powell asked around the courthouse and learned that the only survivor was a little girl, who had just turned four. Neighbors had found her wandering barefoot in the snowy woods, ash on her face and soot on her nightdress and in her hair. Emily Samson. According to an older gentleman at the local pub, John Samson was intemperate and ill-tempered and “had no business raisin’ girls.” Powell understood his meaning, and it sickened him.
Powell considered Dr. Berkley’s words about the effects of trauma on a child’s mind.
Could that explain it?
He glanced out the window again, recalling his father-in-law’s words about amnesia: “. . . only when the person becomes lost to the dream.” Was it all an innocent fantasy, like his daughter talking and playing with her imaginary friends? Or by living in a make-believe world where her sisters were alive and residing next door, was Emily Lloyd lost to the dream? If, in her mind, she became one of them, then yes, she was lost and, by definition, insane. But that didn’t necessarily make her a killer. And there were other explanations for Maud’s death, Powell assured himself. There was the arsenic in Moore’s bismuth. Arsenic in the wallpaper. There was the bismuth itself.
Powell glanced toward Matt’s office. “You don’t want to know the truth,” Matt had said to him the night he’d learned that Dr. Moore had ended his life.
“Thanks for the words of wisdom, brother,” Powell said under his breath.
Maybe Matt was right. Powell didn’t want to know. Maybe Powell didn’t need to know either. Isaiah 55:9, he reminded himself. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways.” Powell had done his job. He’d upheld his oath and honored his duty. And he trusted that God would do the rest.
Author’s Note
Dissociative identity disorder (DID), or multiple personality disorder, was largely misunderstood, if acknowledged at all, as a mental disorder in the early 1870s. It was first described in the United States as “episodic amnesia,” and by the late nineteenth century, scholars had termed it “double consciousness” and frequently described it as a state of sleepwalking. And while there was a general acceptance in the medical community that emotionally traumatic experiences could cause long-term psychological disorders that might display a variety of symptoms, the concept of multiple personalities residing within the same person was not commonly understood until the 1898 study of Clara Norton Fowler and the 1906 publication of The Dissociation of a Personality. It wasn’t until the 1978 trial of an Ohio man that DID was used successfully in an insanity plea within the legal community.
Whether Emily Lloyd suffered from DID is unknown, but there is evidence from her behavior in the courtroom and testimony given at both the inquest and indictment hearings that would support the theory. During the trial, it was reported in newspapers covering the proceedings that Mrs. Lloyd would arrive in the courtroom wearing various outfits that raised eyebrows. While most days, she wore a heavy veil and the black of mourning, on one occasion it was noted that she arrived dressed “most inappropriately” for a grieving mother. On another day, she arrived wearing a traveling suit and told the reporter from the New York Herald that after the trial she was headed to Chicago to marry her beau. Some days, she was attentive during the proceedings. Other days, she sat on the dock reading a newspaper as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She claimed amnesia of certain events during the pretrial hearings and was described by witnesses as suffering from insomnia and forgetfulness. The deciding factor for me was when I read an article in the Alexandria Gazette that mentioned that her father and stepmother, not wishing to care any longer for the toddler, turned Emily out of their home into the snow. The two-year-old had wandered in the woods until she was found by neighbors and taken to an aunt and uncle, who raised her. It was reported that teenage Emily would leave her home on foot without telling her aunt where she was going, disappearing for several days with no recollection of where she had been. When found, Emily was described as sleepwalking and suffering from amnesia.
After careful study of the disorder, I put my theory to the test. I “presented” Emily Lloyd to a psychologist familiar with DID. She agreed with my conclusion, and together, we built a profile of Emily Lloyd that resulted in my creation of the alters Lilith and Lara. And while there would most certainly be more alters than just these, I decided to limit them to two for the purpose of simplifying the story.
In addition to accurately portraying the varying behaviors associated with DID, I was challenged by the limitations my 1872 characters would have understanding such a disorder, the primitiveness of forensic science of the time, the lack of settled case law used to support insanity defenses, and the inconsistency in the application of the law itself, which was much different than it is today. For example, there were no discovery rules in Virginia at that time. The prosecution had no requirement to share their analysis or expert reports. Witnesses were called, recalled, and called again, and were in the courtroom listening to the testimony of others before they themselves testified. In the Lloyd case, it is true that Delphi was threatened by the prosecution to change her testimony about the rats without consequence (or sanctions imposed) by the court. While on the witness stand, the deputy who first testified that he had carried Maud’s autopsy specimens from the Lloyd house in a rag was later coerced by the prosecution to change his recollection of his actions that day. John Orr did, in fact, consult with the defense before the Harrisons changed the plea, and was allowed to assume the role of assistant prosecutor during the trial. Most astonishing was the juror who claimed to be a former sweetheart of Emily Lloyd. He was permitted to remain on the jury after their relationship was disclosed to the judge.
Another difference between the nineteenth-century justice system and Virginia courts today is the reimbursement of trial costs. In 1872, if a defendant was acquitted, the state would pay the defense attorney fees. I can only assume that when the Harrison brothers discovered that the bismuth prescribed for Maud contained arsenic, they felt more confident they could win an acquittal and had a strong financial reason to change their strategy.
Like all my novels, this story of Emily Lloyd and Powell Harrison’s defense of her are based on true events. That said, I have added narrative to fill gaps and changed details to fit my character’s arcs and the storyline, improve pacing, and intensify drama. For example, Dr. Randy Moore is a fictional character based on the doctor who attended Emily and her family, Dr. Armistead Randolph Mott. I changed his name because I veered significantly from Mott’s actions in real life. There is no direct evidence of an affair between him and Lilith/Emily, although at one point in the trial, court testimony teased that Dr. Mott was called to the Lloyd residence frequently, implying that there might be something more between the two. In real life, Mott did not commit suicide (and neither did Powell’s sister Alice, although she did die unexpectedly in 1870). Dr. Mott (Moore in my novel) did prescribe more bismuth than recommended by the defense’s experts, and his bismuth was, in fact, tainted by a small amount of arsenic. Whether it was enough to kill Maud remains disputed, but it did create enough doubt in the jurors’ minds to acquit Emily Lloyd.
Another composite character was Maggie Greene, who was created from the testimony of several witnesses at the trial, as well as from research about Powell Harrison’s life before the war and from his time in Staunton. Characters such as Pendleton Slack, Colonel Nixon, Freddie Roberts, Mollie Ryan, Georgia Jones, Paddy Gill, Julian Hutchinson, and Sam Orrison, all of whom had some involvement in the Emily Lloyd case, were created completely from my imagination.
My purpose as an author is to write page-turning stories that keep my readers on the edge of their seats. My task in doing so is to find a blend of fact and fiction that entertains while at the same time stays true to the essence of the story. There is more truth in Veil of Doubt than fiction. Yet it is a work of fiction. I believe that my portrayal of both Powell Harrison and Emily Lloyd reflects the actuality of their lives in 1872 and the essence of the emotions during the trial that October. My hope is that their story touched you as it did me. And that you, too, find peace in leaving it to God to do what’s right when truth is veiled and justice eludes.
Acknowledgments
Authoring a novel may be a one-player sport, but it takes an entire team to bring a book to market. Publishing the story of Powell Harrison and the trial of Emily Lloyd would have been impossible without the support of so many talented people. I owe a debt of gratitude to each and every one of you on my team.
To my literary coach, and now agent, Jennifer Schober, for her encouragement to write this manuscript and for her hard work in getting it published. To my publicist, Sandi Mendelson, for her unwavering belief in both the story and my writing. You have stood by me through thick and thin, and I am forever grateful. To Debra Gitterman, my development editor, who worked with me throughout the writing process. Her input (and wordsmithing!) has proven invaluable. To Peter Behrens, the best “book doctor” on the planet, for his critique of the structure and the critical plot points of the story. To Lindsay Starck, whose honest feedback was instrumental in improving the book’s pacing. To Kendra Harpster, whose reading helped me finalize the manuscript before sending it out to the world. To Carol Fitzgerald, on advising me in all things digital. And to Kristin Mehus-Roe, Sara Addicott, Georgie Hockett, Bethany Fred, and the awesome group of women at Girl Friday Books, thank you for all the enthusiasm and creativity you brought to this project and your love of this story. I couldn’t have a better publisher!
In addition to the folks in the publishing world, I’d like to thank my friends and colleagues who provided valuable input into the development of the story. To Julie Fender, my literary psychologist (is there such a thing?!), for her analysis of Emily’s “real life” background and behavior at the trial, and for the dissociative identity disorder diagnosis that led to the creation of Lilith and Lara. I also want to thank Julie for the many “sessions” where together we explored the personalities of Emily, her alters, and their behaviors. To Dr. Ed Puccio of Inova Loudoun Hospital for his assistance in describing the symptoms of poison victims. To my attorney friends John Whitbeck, Brandon Elledge, and Sonny Cameron, for their input into my legal arguments and objections, and their assistance in interpreting the Virginia Code in the nineteenth century and courtroom procedure in 1872 (and please forgive me if I got some of it wrong!). To Gary Clemons, the Loudoun County Clerk of the Court, and his staff, for first introducing me to the story of Emily Lloyd. To Dr. Joe Rizzo, former director of the Loudoun Museum, for his patience in answering my many questions about Lee’s retreat from Gettysburg, the impact of the Civil War on Virginia communities, and the political climate in Leesburg in the early 1870s. To Pastor Gary Hamrick of Cornerstone Chapel, for his many lessons on scripture that I incorporated into the story and for his sermons that helped me find Powell’s faith. To my early readers Jason Richards, Avery Miller, James Mason, Rita Seymour, Therese Bitanga, Jeanne Dagna, Donald Decker, and Michelle Freeman, a huge thank you for taking the time to read the manuscript when it was still very rough, and for being so open in providing your feedback. And to members of the Harrison family, specifically Robert Patton and Nicholas White, for sharing their memories of, and memorabilia from, Powell Harrison’s children Burr Powell Harrison, Nannie Harrison Lynn, and Lalla Harrison White, and step-granddaughter “Miss Elizabeth” White that enabled me to bring Powell, Janet, and the rest of the Harrison clan to life.
I would also like to acknowledge the many sources of my research. In addition to Google and online subscription services including Ancestry.com and Newspapers.com, I consulted the Loudoun County Courthouse archives, the Library of Virginia, and the Thomas Balch Library in my search for records, articles, and information about the events and people depicted in the novel. Additionally, I relied on information from a number of nonfiction sources. For insight into the Harrison family dynamic, I found chapter two of Life in Black and White: Family and Community in the Slave South by Brenda E. Stevenson most helpful. To gain a sense of Powell’s war experience, I consulted 18th Virginia Cavalry by Roger U. Delauter, and Brigadier General John D. Imboden, Confederate Commander in the Shenandoah by Spencer C. Tucker. Numerous memoirs allowed me to acquire a better understanding of the economic and political climate of Loudoun following the Civil War. Autobiography of Eppa Hunton by Eppa Hunton, The Comanches, A History of White’s Battalion, Virginia Cavalry by Frank M. Myers, and History of the Independent Loudoun Virginia Rangers, U.S. Vol. Cav. (Scouts) 1862–65 by Briscoe Goodhart were terrific sources. I also found Between Reb and Yank: A Civil War History of Northern Loudoun County, Virginia by Taylor M. Chamberlin and John M. Souders to be a great trove of information. For understanding the Confederate retreat from Gettysburg, I consulted One Continuous Fight: The Retreat from Gettysburg and the Pursuit of Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia, July 4–14, 1863 by Michael F. Nugent.
To develop a full picture of the Emily Lloyd trial, I found chapter three, “Chaff before a Whirlwind—Arsenic and Old Lace in Leesburg,” in Michael Lee Pope’s book, Wicked Northern Virginia, combined with published reports during the trial by the Alexandria Gazette and the Loudoun newspaper The Mirror most helpful. To understand the progress of forensic science, medicine, and psychology in the 1870s, I relied on sources including Dr. Francis T. Stribling and Moral Medicine: Curing the Insane at Virginia’s Western State Hospital 1836–1874 by Alice Davis Wood, Toxicology: The Basic Science of Poisons by Lois J. Casarett and John Doull, and The Trial of Mrs. Elizabeth G. Wharton on the Charge of Poisoning General W. S. Ketchum: Tried at Annapolis, MD., December 1871–January 1872 as well as articles published by the Baltimore Gazette.
Finally, I want to thank the people who matter most in the success of my books. My fans and followers on social media who bought and read my first book and continue to clamor for more. My friends and family for their constant encouragement and support. My sons James, Luke, Zach, and Nick, and stepdaughter Avery, who are forever curious and excited about my writing. My ten-year-old grandson, Charlie, who authors and illustrates his own books while Nana is working on hers. And my husband, Scott, who has walked with me on every step of this journey. Without his patience and reassurance, I’m not certain I would have had the fortitude to keep writing. For that, I am most grateful.
About the Author
Sharon Virts is a successful entrepreneur and visionary who, after more than twenty-five years in business, followed her passion for storytelling into the world of historical fiction. She has received numerous awards for her work in historic preservation and has been recognized nationally for her business achievements and philanthropic contributions. She was recently included in Washington Life Magazine’s Philanthropic 50 for her work with education, health, and cultural preservation.
Sharon’s passion truly lies in the creative. She is an accomplished visual artist and uses her gift for artistic expression along with her extraordinary storytelling to build complex characters and craft vivid images and sets that capture the heart and imagination. She is mother to four sons—James, Lucas, Zachary, and Nicholas—stepmom to Ben and Avery, and “Nana” to ten-year-old Charlie and toddler Bodhi. She lives in Virginia with her husband, Scott Miller, at the historic Selma Mansion with their three Labrador retrievers Polly, Cassie, and Leda.
Sharon Virts, Veil of Doubt
