Killing Henrietta (eBook)

The unsolved murder of a young widow in a small Southern Maryland town

Leslie LeDonne (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
232 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-2320-7 (ISBN)

Infos

December 5, 1959, the beginning of the Christmas season. Residents of Leonardtown, Maryland, awoke that morning to shocking news. Henrietta Ragan, one of their own and a recent widow had been brutally beaten, raped, and murdered overnight. The crime scene had been cleaned up and staged to look like a suicide. The local population knew her as a sensual paramour who was 'very attractive' and intimately known to most men in this sleepy little Southern Maryland village, much to the dismay of their wives. This homicide remains unsolved sixty-five years later. New evidence has been uncovered that will provide information about the heinous taking of her life. This savage murder had been veiled within deep and deadly secrets, lies, lust, and dishonesty by the most powerful men in the community. Who were the architects and the masterminds behind this successful and massive cover-up? A fresh new look might answer some of the questions that people still ask today about... 'Killing Henrietta'

Leslie LeDonne is a first-time author of the new non-fiction book 'KILLING HENRIETTA'. Leslie was born in Pottsville, Pennsylvania in 1957, and raised in southern Maryland, where she still resides today with her husband, Jeff, their two sons and their families. She considers her faith and family to be the most important to her. First hearing of this local, true and still unsolved horrific murder and rape of Henrietta Ragan fifty years ago while Leslie was in beauty school piqued her interest. This homicide happened in Leonardtown, Maryland in 1959, just two blocks away from her beauty school. She wondered how something this horrendous could have been executed in such a tiny closet community and never have been solved. She spent many years doing her own research, interviews, and boots-on-the ground inquiries. While searching on her own, she has uncovered some new evidence that would change the way this case is examined, maybe not by the police any longer, but certainly by the readers themselves. It was Henrietta's inability to enjoy life's treasures that Leslie has been blessed with that propelled her search forward. Henrietta's faith, family, close friendships and her life itself had been robbed from her. This injustice fueled Leslie's search for facts, truth, and evidence. Being a very head strong and determined woman gave her the fortitude necessary in trying to figure out who the man was that was responsible for killing Henrietta.

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December 5, 1959, the beginning of the Christmas season. Residents of Leonardtown, Maryland, awoke that morning to shocking news. Henrietta Ragan, one of their own and a recent widow had been brutally beaten, raped, and murdered overnight. The crime scene had been cleaned up and staged to look like a suicide. The local population knew her as a sensual paramour who was "e;very attractive"e; and intimately known to most men in this sleepy little Southern Maryland village, much to the dismay of their wives. This homicide remains unsolved sixty-five years later. New evidence has been uncovered that will provide information about the heinous taking of her life. This savage murder had been veiled within deep and deadly secrets, lies, lust, and dishonesty by the most powerful men in the community. Who were the architects and the masterminds behind this successful and massive cover-up?A fresh new look might answer some of the questionsthat people still ask today about "e;Killing Henrietta"e;

Textauszug

1 The Murder

Friday Night: December 4, 1959

Midnight: Home of Henrietta Wilmer Ragan

Tudor Hall Estates

Washington Street

Leonardtown, Maryland

It’s done. She is dead now. She wasn’t expecting him tonight.

Although the temperature had reached a pleasant 50 degrees that day, the evening brought a chilly 35 degrees. A waxing crescent moon illuminated just the right quarter and provided a dark ride home from the bank after Henrietta had ordered her checks. There was no garage for her to pull her car into. Henrietta parked her car in front of the house that evening, which was unusual because she generally parked at the back of the driveway near the kitchen door. She couldn’t that night, as it had just been paved that day.

Her new small white house was built on Washington Street, less than one block behind the courthouse and the jail. When constructed, it was a tiny two-bedroom bungalow-style built on a basement. It remains there to this day. There was also a living room, kitchen/dining area, and one bathroom. Hardwood floors ran throughout, except in the kitchen and bathroom. The kitchen floor was very speckled, light-colored linoleum, and the bathroom was fitted with ceramic tile. There were no shutters outside; dark green canvas awnings hung over each window for shade, as there was not a single tree in the yard. There were two tall wooden poles on her side of Washington Street: one for electricity and the other for a telephone. There were no streetlights. She parked her light-colored DeSoto with a dark roof in front of the house that night. Henrietta parked up far enough to allow space for her brother-in-law to park his 1960 gold-mist-colored Oldsmobile Coupe when he arrived.

She had to leave her car in the dark and walk up the five concrete steps onto her front stoop flanked by a black wrought iron railing. The only light she had out front was a tiny one-bulb black fixture to the right of the door. After exiting the car in the dark and climbing those steps, she had to pull and hold open the screened door before she could access the front door and slide her key into the lock. She was alone and in almost total blackness. She entered her home and likely flipped on the switch for that single outside light, expecting company soon. She locked the door behind herself. Now, she was safely inside. Even the door to the basement from the kitchen had a lock on the handle and a bar and chain slide lock near the top.

Henrietta’s brother-in-law, John Gardiner, arrived at 9:00 p.m. He parked in the lower driveway, around the front of the house, and went up the five steps onto the front stoop. Did he knock? Did Henrietta let him in, or did he have a key and let himself in? He watched television as she addressed Christmas cards. After Pepsi and chocolate marshmallow cookies, he left at 10:30 through the front door, which Henrietta locked behind him. He drove directly to his home. She left the two glasses that had contained Pepsi on the kitchen counter and got ready for bed. She was expected to be at work the following morning at 9:00 a.m.

Henrietta told several family members and friends that she had been afraid to stay by herself since becoming a new widow on Valentine’s Day, February 14, of this same year. She religiously locked all her doors during the ten months of her new widowhood. That ritual caused tremendous disputes and outright arguments between her and her family. The perpetual discord that this touchy subject evoked caused Henrietta great anguish. Her family members had repeatedly told her not to lock her doors, as doing so implied that she did not trust people or her neighbors.

Locking those doors did not help Henrietta that night of December 4, 1959. This was the beginning of the Christmas season, the night that would witness Henrietta’s worst nightmare come to life. That night was to be the last night of her life. It was a night just four months after her neighbor, Sally Ann Katona, found her crying almost inconsolably out in her yard about being constantly afraid and wanting to lock all her doors.

No audible screams were heard that Friday night around midnight on her street while many residents of Leonardtown were asleep. While tucked in amid the safety of their own homes, one of their own---“Henrietta Ragan” --- was being beaten, strangled, suffocated, murdered, and finally raped “down the hill.” Unfortunately, her home, which was supposed to provide her with the ultimate sense of security and solace, turned out to be anything but a sanctuary or haven for her that night.

He got in somehow. Perhaps she opened the back kitchen door after he knocked because she recognized him. Maybe he used the missing key to her house that she had been unable to find, using it to slither into the shadows inside her home. He was with her now. She was within his filthy reach. He had somehow breached the sacred confines of her sanctuary. There was no turning back, as her most dreaded fear was now present and staring her in the face. Was she frozen in place? Did she experience a surge of adrenaline that provided her with some clarity about the severity of her situation? She most assuredly understood that her fear of being alone, which tortured her for months, was now made credible. There had to have come a point when Henrietta realized that her situation was quickly becoming hopeless. Could she have left those doors unlocked, as her family demanded? However he gained access, he brought an evil and deadly force that had just permeated every square inch of her home.

He came there for one thing, and Henrietta was not a willing sexual partner that night. This neat 44-year-old polished, demure, attractive, prissy, well-dressed southern lady and hard-partying woman was always “put together.” That night, she was in curlers, a thick black hairnet, and pajamas with her St. Christopher medal pinned to her top. She had a wad of chewing gum in her mouth and was not prepared to entertain a man. She said, “No.” She had to say “No.” She was ready for bed if not already in bed. It was later discovered that a profound religious epiphany had recently occurred in this Catholic woman’s life, which she was very excited about. This new understanding had recently changed her core, a change that she had longed for for almost twenty-five years. A change that ultimately led to her death.

Most likely, after hearing “No” and multiple demands that he was to leave, he overpowered her. Was she screaming, and he muffled her? Was she trying to diffuse his intent, with no success, and been reduced to the depth of begging for her life itself? What was the dialogue at this point- if there was time for any? The rejection from her sent this predator into a blinding rage that was not to be thwarted, derailed, or extinguished. In all his lewdness, he came for her. This was not negotiable. If the confrontation started in the kitchen, it ended in the bedroom, where she had likely been in bed because her nightstand lamp was already on. The lamp remained on until she was found the following morning, although all the other lights had been turned off.

He would make sure that this violent act of hedonism was completed to fruition. This homicidal maniac was not leaving on any terms but his own. His satisfaction was paramount at any cost. His licentious choice drove him to a depth that blinded all reason and allowed him to commit the ultimate crimes against mankind: sexual violence and murder.

He wrapped his hands around her small throat and started to squeeze. Hard. Harder. Hard enough to cause a massive hemorrhage in her larynx. Henrietta, even in her last several minutes, reached up with her hands and tried desperately to pull his from around her throat. She pulled to no avail until she bruised her own hands, somehow wounding him in the process. And that wound resulted in his drops of blood on her bed sheet. She needed to breathe. Her body did not want to surrender to this unnatural episode. She…needed…a…breath…just...one… little…one....tiny….one….little…bit…of….air…please. She was fighting to survive. He began to beat her neck area and both shoulders using some unknown blunt instrument. She suffered several blows to her head, most likely causing her unconsciousness at that point. If his hands around her throat were the only weapon of his choosing to kill her, Henrietta would have passed out in seven to fourteen seconds. Her death would have been imminent within one to three minutes. Three minutes. Three long minutes. The longest three minutes of Henrietta’s life. Try holding your breath for three minutes. It becomes an eternity.

Henrietta was not dying fast enough by his attempt at beating and strangling her. Her suffering was without interruption. He could not leave her in a half-dead condition. He had plenty of time to stop, but she could identify and report him to law enforcement if she regained consciousness. At that point, his decision was solid. As she lay dying, he got up and walked over to a chair across the room from her bed. That chair held the clothes she wore to work that day. He grabbed her knitted gray sweater vest and returned to the bed. He covered her nose and mouth with it and applied enough force to leave a cable stitch bruising pattern on her throat. He held the pressure for as long as he needed to suffocate her. With that last action, he made sure that she was dead. What could his thoughts have been at this point? Only self-preservation. With his monstrous acts, he ensured that no witness would remain.

After his beating, strangling,...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 28.11.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Sozialwissenschaften ► Politik / Verwaltung
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-2320-7 / 9798317823207