Linda Dunn: R.I.P. William Keemer

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Linda Dunn

Stories grow with the telling, and history is written by the victors, which may explain much about why one of the coldest cases in Hancock County has never been adequately addressed: The lynching of William Keemer.

One hundred and sixty men from Hancock, Shelby and Rush counties met at night and voted on whether Keemer should die by hanging or cutting his body into pieces.

There was no trial. There wasn’t even a hearing or an indictment. There was just a fast, rapid response to a story that had spread seemingly faster than most fake news could travel on social media today.

There were no iPhones to record what happened, so the story has to be pieced together from the narrative of the day: Newspapers. Books. Histories that often disagreed with accounts. In many ways, just like reading online news sites and blogs today only without the video and commentary.

From William Vaughn’s viewpoint, he was outside with neighbors, working in the field while his 6-month pregnant wife was inside with their young child. His child ran outside screaming about a black man murdering his mother, and Vaughn and his neighbor did what just about any farmer would have done back then: They all grabbed their rifles and went after him.

They saw a tall, muscular, black monster who’d raped Vaughn’s wife and tried to kill her. Vaughn got off a few shots but only managed to nick the villain’s ear. While he was returned to other things like ensuring his family was OK and going to Greenfield to buy a better rifle, his neighbors tracked down the man, captured him, and delivered him to the Rushville jail.

Then the men of the community got together to talk about what they were going to do and how they were going to do it as word spread and more people grew outraged by this horrible long-time toublemaker’s actions.

From James Keemer’s viewpoint: His brother was out by himself and stopped at a home to see about a drink of water. A woman was sleeping on the floor, and he never even stepped inside. He heard a commotion and ran off, knowing that Black people didn’t need to do anything to get killed.

The vote was for hanging, and the 160 men left for Greenfield with crowbars and weapons. They took the keys from the sheriff against his will and dragged William Keemer out of the cell to a wagon hitched to a gray horse, and then to the Flora Hall of the Fairgrounds, where they gave him an opportunity to say his last words.

“Men, you are doing wrong.”

They left him hanging overnight with a note pinned to his chest that read: “It is the verdict of 160 men of Hancock, Rush and Shelby that his life is inadequate to meet the demands of justice.”

It was June 26, 1875. The location was the old fairgrounds — not the one where the hospital stands now but the one that was on the south side of the railroad near Brandywine Creek.

We don’t even have a marker there because it’s a part of our history we’d rather forget or pretend was justified. Soon, we’ll have a new jail built by Keemer’s final resting place and again, there’s no marker or any recognition of the crime committed against him.

Given all the recent talk about racial injustices, shouldn’t we take a moment to at least acknowledge our past and recognize that everyone — regardless of their background — deserves the presumption of innocence as well as protection from violence? Shouldn’t verdicts be decided after the facts are known and a jury of peers — not 160 masked men meeting at night or a few thousand tweeters commenting online — do their best to render a fair and impartial verdict?

Isn’t it also time that we at least put a marker in place to recognize the injustice done to William Keemer? Wouldn’t the building a the new jail be a good time to dedicate a spot of remembrance for what justice is all about and what we hope to achieve going forward as police and citizens all over the country are re-examing our relationships and looking at how we can do better?

Isn’t it time for us to acknowledge past mistakes and vow to do better in the future?

A lifelong resident of Hancock County, Linda Dunn is an author and retired Department of Defense employee. Send comments to [email protected].