After Dark: Myths, Misdeeds & the Paranormal - Christmas Day Strangler: the murder of Gwen Ellen Jones

Episode Date: December 25, 2023

On Christmas Day 1909, Gwen Ellen Jones was murdered by William Murphy in the Welsh town of Holyhead. Anthony and Maddy tell the story with an appearance from Dr Hazel Pierce at the end. The episode was based on Hazel's wonderful work.Hazel is part of the pan-Wales History Points project (https://historypoints.org/). Her first book was about Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury 1473-1541. Her new book is coming next year on the life of Katherine Courtenay, daughter of King Edward IV, and her son and daughter in law, Henry and Gertrude Courtenay, both of whom fell foul of King Henry VIII.Written by Anthony Delaney. Editing and Sound Design by Anisha Deva. Produced by Freddy Chick. Senior Producer is Charlotte Long.Discover the past with exclusive history documentaries and ad-free podcasts presented by world-renowned historians from History Hit. Watch them on your smart TV or on the go with your mobile device. Get 50% off your first 3 months with code AFTERDARK sign up now for your 14-day free trial http://access.historyhit.com/checkout/subscribe/purchase?code=afterdark&plan=monthly

Wendy's Small Frosty is the ultimate summer refreshment. And not because it's cool and creamy and made with fresh Canadian dairy. It's also refreshingly cheap. Just 99 cents until July 14th. It's a treat for you and your wallet. Hello listeners. A word of warning before we begin. This festive episode of After Dark contains detailed references

to historic domestic violence and murder. Hello and welcome to After Dark Myths, Misdeeds and the Paranormal. Today at After Dark Towers, in the Victorian tradition of haunting Christmas stories, Maddy and I urge you to leave aside your mince pies and the chaos of wrapping paper and settle in for a short history that is without doubt desperately haunting. The history you're about to hear takes place on Christmas Day, 1909. King Edward VII, the eldest son of Queen Victoria, is on the throne. That year, the National Old Age Pension Scheme came into effect,

and Selfridge's department store first opened its doors in London. But this Christmas Day history unfolds some 300 miles northwest of the capital, in a wintry Welsh town called Holyhead. At the time, Holyhead was a packet station, and a ferry port for passengers, mainly those travelling to and from Ireland. And so to the Welsh coast. It is a wintry Christmas day, 1909. The driving snow has passed and now the rain batters the Welsh coastline. This morning, at daybreak, men had gathered in rural churches,

singing carols together in three- or four-part harmony to mark this holy occasion. After the service, a day of celebration would ensue across Wales, not just within the private confines of family homes, but across towns and villages. This was a time for coming together, a time for everyone to come together. In Holyhead, the busy streets, mainly carved out in the previous rain, hum with festive activity. From above, this town on the coast would have glowed splendidly at its heart. Then, as we zoom out from the centre, the bright lights from the shops and lodging houses fade into the dimming glow of randomly dispersed cottages, before the light disappears altogether into the unknown darkness of the surrounding fields and countryside.

At or about 8.30pm, Gwen Ellen Jones had reluctantly agreed to go for a walk with her ex-lover, William Murphy, who had recently returned from Yorkshire. He had followed Gwen Ellen and her friend Elizabeth Glynn Jones, known locally as Lizzie, as they celebrated the day with festive drinks in various pubs around the town. as they celebrated the day with festive drinks in various pubs around the town. According to eyewitnesses, the last stop on their Christmas pub crawl was the Bardsea Island Inn, and it was outside this inn that William Murphy had met Gwen Ellen Jones once more. Lizzie, the good friend that she was, followed close behind as Gwen Ellen and William began their walk. She was aware of the recent tensions between the pair and probably thought it best to supervise this seasonal sojourn. Murphy, however, irked by Lizzie's presence, bade her be gone. Lizzie disappeared, however willingly, into the rapturous warmth of the joy and mirth around her. As Lizzie left Gwen, Ellen and William behind,

she was sure she heard them singing carols together as they went. Perhaps tonight would pass without incident. It was Christmas night after all. That was not to be, however. And it was the last time Lizzie would see her friend alive. Gwen Ellen had led William away from the port and the hubbub of the town towards the open fields. She hopped over a stile by Waltham Avenue where they could be alone. As William would later tell it, she stumbled, drunkenly, towards him, confessing that she still liked him. William then asked Gwen Ellen to remove what he described as the boa wrapped about her

neck, an attempt to keep out the wintry Welsh chill. Gwen Ellen explained that it was fastened tight and it would be too fiddly to remove, but William was insistent. He reached for the boa himself, but rather than taking hold of it, he grabbed Gwen Ellen's throat and shoved her to the ground. She did not go quietly, however, and William later gruesomely recounted that, We had a good hard fight. She was nearly as strong as me. Gwen Ellen screamed and kicked and scratched and spat, leaving the fierce, bloody marks of her struggle behind, etched across his sodden face. Inevitably though, with Murphy's

terrible brute strength pressing down on her, the last drops of her life left her body and mingled with the Christmas rain. Gwen Ellen Jones' life had been mercilessly stolen from her, at the hands of the man that she had once loved. In life, Gwen Ellen Jones was the daughter of Jane and John Parry. She had been born in Blanau, Festiniog in 1874 into a slate mining community. As an adult, she had a kindly, round face. Her smile was thin but natural, her eyes relaxed and kind. In 1898, following the death of her mother and a related relocation, Gwen Ellen married Morris Jones, a stone quarry labourer 20 years her senior. Gwen's house was a busy one.

Besides herself and Morris, she also made room for her father and her 12-year-old sister, Jane. In somewhat mysterious circumstances, Gwen then adopted a baby girl, Gladys, from Clannrist Workhouse, who had, so the story went, been abandoned by her birth mother. What the precise details surrounding this adoption were remains shrouded in mystery, particularly as Gladys' addition to the Jones household placed a significant financial burden on this growing Welsh family. The baby was, however, deeply loved, and was devoted to her mother in return. To cover her growing costs, Gwen Ellen also took two lodgers into their small three-roomed cottage and took up laundry duties locally. At the end of the Victorian era then, 28-year-old Mrs Gwen

Ellen Jones was a daughter, a wife, a mother, a sister and a businesswoman. When, in 1902, she fatefully crossed paths with one Mr William Murphy, however, all that would be taken from her. Corporal William Murphy was a giant of a man. His face is, especially now, difficult to take in, even through a photograph. He's affronting. He challenges one. Murphy looked like he had been roughly hewn from the very Welsh slate mines that surrounded him. jagged, rough, dark. Despite this, he seemed to care for his appearance, always carrying a mirror and some soap with him in his pockets. After he was arrested for the murder of Gwen Ellen Jones, people were quick to add that for every man or woman that liked William, there was another that feared him. Murphy was an army man, having served in South

Africa and India in the East Lancashire Regiment, and then as a corporal in the Royal Anglesey Royal Engineers. During his time in the Engineers, he was described as a most fearless man. William had an exacting nature, a result of this military career perhaps, so he employed the services of the local laundry maid named Gwen Ellen Jones to see to it that his effects were spotlessly maintained. We don't know when the relationship progressed from being a professional arrangement to an amorous one, but we know that it did. On the 19th of January 1903, Gwen Ellen gave birth to a baby boy, whom she called William John, after his father. Not her husband, but the soldier, William Murphy. Morris Jones, Gwen Ellen's husband, refused to safeguard his wife's reputation at first,

and dithered about adding his name to little William's birth certificate, though he eventually relented. His kindness was in vain, however. Soon, either through desire or coercion, Gwen Ellen left her marital home to be with her soldier, the father of her new son instead. We often view the past as a hard and fast collection of black and white rules. A woman is perceived to have transgressed, and so society judges and shuns her. Of course, history is not always so

rigid a thing, but in Gwen Allen's case it proved remarkably so. Her wider family effectively disowned her, her friends abandoned her, and her reputation was left in tatters. Her laundry services were no longer required by the people of the town, and the lodging house was no longer hers to run. Because of her actions, her ageing father had also left the Jones family home by now, too disgraced to remain owing to the actions of his daughter. Dutifully, he took his youngest daughter Jane and Gladys, his granddaughter, with him. With a new son to provide for, no income of her own, and having lost the protection of the male members of her family, Gwen Ellen Jones now found herself subject to the precarious protection of William Murphy.

Gwen Ellen, William and William Jr. took a room in a common lodging house at 51 Baker Street, Holyhead, an infamously poor and run-down part of the poor town. It was here that she came to meet her new friend Lizzie, who also lodged there. Murphy worked as a labourer on the railways and as a Royal Engineer's Special Reserve, though this work was intermittent and did not meet their financial needs. Gwen Ellen, however, needed to feed her child. In her desperate attempt to retain some quality of life, it is said that she took to the streets to beg for food and money. With his partner reduced to begging for food and unable to feed his son, William Murphy decided to assert his manhood through violent means,

aimed primarily towards Gwen Ellen. On one terrifying occasion, potentially to control her comings and goings, Murphy attacked her with a knife, cutting the very shoes from her feet, and proceeded to kick her black and blue. Kick her black and blue. But Murphy, despite his best efforts, had not crushed Gwen Ellen Jones's spirit entirely. And when, in 1909, the opportunity presented itself for her to get away from her abuser,

she grabbed it with both hands. Murphy's work took him to Yorkshire, and as Gwen Ellen found herself alone with her son, she vowed never to admit him to her rooms again. With her son now solely reliant on her, Gwen found occupation in necessity and turned to sex work to make her ends meet. It's now believed that it was her friend Lizzie who introduced Gwen Ellen to the possibilities and complexities of the trade. Afterwards, when her lifeless body was discovered following the maniacal misdeeds of William Murphy, the British press would have a field day commenting on Gwen Ellen's new occupation.

They called her a prostitute, a beggar, and referred to her as a lowly member of the hawker class. In October 1909, as Christmas and her death lurked over the horizon, Gwen Ellen sought protection in the company of another man, a Mr Robert Jones. But by mid-December, Murphy had returned, and sought out his partner and child. Gwen Ellen was his, and she would return with him. William visited Gwen's father, demanding to know where she was. Mr Parry lied, stating that he believed his daughter had returned to her lawful husband, but William promised that if he found Gwen with any other man, he would kill her. Amidst the darkened streets of Hollyhead, Murphy easily smoked Gwen Ellen out. For a

while, in a bizarre turn of events, he would join Robert Jones and Gwen Ellen in their rooms for meals now and then. Very quickly, however, Gwen Ellen soon found herself aligned with Murphy once more, walking the streets with him, begging for food and money with him, constantly by his side. Murphy, of course, returned to his old ways. On Wednesday the 22nd of December, Murphy beat Gwen Ellen badly. A local man, John Griffiths, saw Murphy strike her on the nose with his fist. Though he would later testify to the abuse following her death, he did not intervene at the time. Amidst all this tumult, Gwen Ellen confided to her friends that

she only took up with Murphy this time because she feared his temper and could not get away from him while he was in town. She was right to fear him. Three nights later, on Christmas Day itself, Gwen Ellen's body lay still and cold in the field out of town. The shadow of William Murphy loomed over her. Having smothered her, William now took a knife from his belt and sliced through her throat, placing her head across his leg as he cut. Murphy was no anatomist, and as the blood flowed from Gwen Ellen's body it produced a guttural, gurgling sound. Murphy assumed he had not yet robbed her of her life as he had intended, and so, as the North Star shone down, a beacon to the lost and lonely,

Murphy shoved Gwen Ellen's body into the water-filled ditch to drown her, while continuing to cut at her throat, severing all but her spinal cord. Then, like an animal, he placed his claws inside the wound and prized her flesh apart, before turning her over and submerging her in the ditch water once again. Murphy then made his way to Gwen Ellen's lodgings, his face covered in his own blood, a reminder of the very last actions of Gwen Ellen Jones. There he encountered Lizzie and his son William, who asked desperately for his mother. In another act of stone-cold cruelty, Murphy looked at the boy, told him he no longer had a mother, and handed him a penny. Murphy asked Lizzie to feed the boy, and took another

of their neighbours, Johnny Flamio, to see Gwen Ellen's body. It was later reported that Murphy claimed, I am not sorry for it. I am glad I have done it. I shall get a bit of rest now. Then, accompanied by a shaken Johnny Flamio, he went calmly to Hollyhead Police Station that Christmas night and gave himself up. I have done it right enough, he confessed to a shocked constable. You can take my word for it. When the policeman asked him what he had done,

he calmly replied, Killed a woman. Wendy's Small Frosty is the ultimate summer refreshment. And not because it's cool and creamy and made with fresh Canadian dairy. It's also refreshingly cheap. Just 99 cents until July 14th. It's a treat for you and your wallet. Catherine of Aragon. Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, Catherine Howard, Catherine Parr. Six wives, six lives. I'm Professor Susanna Lipscomb and this month on Not Just the Tudors, I'm joined by a host of experts

to tell the stories of the six queens of Henry VIII who shaped and changed England forever. Subscribe to and follow Not Just the Tudors from History Hit, wherever you get your podcasts. Days later, at Beaumaris Courthouse, on the other side of the Anglesey Peninsula, William Murphy was tried for the murder of Gwen Ellen Jones. The dark brown wood of the small courthouse creaked and groaned as those gathered packed themselves in to witness the trial of the Christmas Day Strangler. Despite tall windows, natural light seemed to evade the small room. Instead, orange orbs of light cast shadows over the grief-stricken face of John Parry, Gwen Ellen's father. Beside him, eleven-year-old Gladys Jones, Gwen Ellen's adopted daughter, listened as the judge laid out the case to the jury. Nearby, Gladys will have

heard the furious scribblings of pencils on paper, journalists desperately piecing together the most gruesome details that would go on to inform their articles, and there, quietly grinning amongst them, was William Murphy. He aggressively challenged each witness that was called against him, calling out indiscriminately as questions occurred to him. The pressure proved too much for young Gladys Jones, who, at 11, had been called to give her testimony. Overwhelmed by Murphy's verbal attacks, the child broke down in tears on the stand. Murphy's verbal attacks, the child broke down in tears on the stand. Lizzie Glynn-Jones, however, proved much more of a match for the man on trial. Angered by the loss of her friend, Lizzie and Murphy exchanged screams and insults as

she delivered her testimony. Murphy pointed at Lizzie and roared, That's the woman that caused her death. When I seed her with Gwen Ellen Jones, I knowed it was all up with her. I knowed she was a bad un before, but when I saw her with this un, I knowed she was worse. But Lizzie stared down the murderer. You're a liar, she parried, and hanging is too good for you. But hang he would. On Wednesday the 26th of January 1910, William Murphy was found guilty of the murder of Gwen Ellen Jones, the slate miner's daughter. He was sentenced to hang. William Murphy was executed at Carnarfon at 8am on the 15th of February 1910 by none other than

Henry Pierpoint, father of the most famous British hangman of all time, Albert Pierpoint, who listeners of After Dark will already be familiar with. His execution was opposed by many notable British politicians and celebrities at the time, but he became the last ever inmate to be executed at Carnarfon Jail. Maintaining his mountainous bulk, Murphy is said to have walked steadily towards the scaffold. Pierpoint had calculated that at 146 kilograms, a drop of seven foot was required to end his life. He was correct, it seems, for after Murphy dropped, his death is recorded as instantaneous. Murphy's last words were reportedly, I hope the Lord will have a little mercy left for me. The remains of Gwen Ellen Jones had been quietly laid to rest in an unmarked pauper's grave on the 29th of December 1909.

Her father John leaves no archival trace after the trial. Gladys was placed in a union home, and her half-brother William was taken into the care of Dr. Barnardo's. They would never meet again. But history does not end, it just passes from one age to the next. And so in 2019, on the 110th anniversary of the tragic murder, the descendants of Gwen Ellen Jones' separated family reunited once more, a result of the incredible research carried out by a genealogist called Dr Hazel Pierce. Between them, they pieced together what had become of Gwen Ellen's children, and even uncovered the possibility that Gwen Ellen had given birth to a third child sometime shortly before she died. A child named Hannah is recorded as having been

born in Hollyhead in 1909, the very year Gwen Ellen died. Archivally, Hannah is described as Gwen Ellen's sister, Jane's adopted daughter, but the speculation goes that Hannah was Gwen Ellen's third child, by either William Murphy or Robert Jones. If this was the case, Hannah had been cared for by her Aunt Jane because of her mother's precarious personal situation at the time. Jane because of her mother's precarious personal situation at the time. While William Murphy's life has been immortalised in a ballad from 1910 entitled The Execution of William Murphy, little was known about the life of Gwen Ellen Jones before the incredible research carried out by Dr Hazel Pierce. When Ellen Jones was born on 10 October 1874 to John and Jane Parry,

the family lived in Bliner for Stignock, North Wales, where John worked in one of the local slate mines. The couple's only child, their nine-year-old daughter, had recently died of pneumonia. So when their second daughter was born six months later, she was named after her deceased sister, Gwen. The family moved around North Wales as John searched for work, and during this period two younger siblings were born, Thomas John and Jane. By 1898, the family had settled in the coastal community of Llanfairfechan, where John obtained work in the granite quarry. At some point after 1891, Gwen's mother died, and responsibility for looking after her father and younger sister fell on Gwen's shoulders.

It might have been for this reason that she married local quarry worker, Morris Jones, at Bangor Registry Office on the 12th of March, 1898. Gwen and Morris never had children of their own, and so Gwen adopted a little girl called Gladys, who had been born in Llanrhist Workhouse. The 1901 census finds a family, including Gwen's father and 14-year-old sister, living at 4 Tannabunk, a property comprising a kitchen and two bedrooms. Also present were two lodges, meaning seven individuals were crammed into this tiny cottage. Although money was tight, and Gwen's daily routine was one of relentless hard work, life in Llanfairwechon was pleasant. Her younger brother had married and lived nearby, and Llanfairnvechan was a vibrant place. It had a sweeping, elegant seafront called the Parade, a concert hall, held regular regattas, and an annual May Day procession, complete with band.

Even after Gwen had met William Murphy, and her marriage had collapsed, she still remained the centre of a family who depended on her, and it was her death that led to its breakup. Her son was taken into care, Gladys was adopted by a family in Lancashire, and the two siblings never saw each other again. Although the lurid newspaper accounts are the means by which most people hear about Gwen, there is more to the life of this woman that is never acknowledged. She was a daughter, a mother and a sister. Her most important legacy is the reaction of those she left behind. Her sister Jane never forgot her and this ensured her own children and grandchildren remembered Gwen. Her adopted daughter Gladys was much closer to her than to her stepfather Morris.

She always considered Gwen to be her mother and stayed with her when she left the marital home. Gwen ensured she had a decent education and by 1910 Gladys could write in a clear and neat hand. As an adult, so affected was she by her mother's murder that she could never talk about Gwen, but she overcame this traumatic event and went on to make a success of her life, becoming a St John's nurse. It was due to the family's enduring memory of Gwen that Jane's grandson and Gladys's niece were eventually reunited over a century later in 2020. There could be no greater tribute to Gwen than this.

So this Christmas, we here at the After Dark team raise a glass to Gwen Ellen Jones. We remember her tenacity, her resourcefulness, and the intelligence it took for her to survive in a society that had shunned her. We return with Gwen Ellen and Lizzie to Bardsey Island Inn, where they shared a festive drink together on Christmas night, where they laughed and joked about the trials of the year behind them and galvanised themselves for the year to come. Gwen Ellen would not see 1910, but her history acts as a reminder, amidst the tinsel and the turkey, of the perils many women face at Christmas. In this way she has not died at all, but lives on in the yellowing pages of her archive and as a warning from the past.

Nadolig Cláin, Gwen Ellen Jones. Far more than dust has she left behind. If you've been affected by any of the material contained in this episode please do contact helpline at womensaid.org.uk or access their instant chat function at womensaid.org.uk links will be provided in the description of this episode, and you can also contact the National Domestic Abuse Helpline, which is open 24-7, 365 days a year, on 0808 2000 247. And if you would like to make a Christmas donation to Women's Aid, who will experience a significant uptick in the need for their services over the festive period, please visit www.womensaid.org.uk forward slash give forward slash donate. From all of us at After Dark, Merry Christmas. Join us in 2024 for more myths and misdeeds from the darker side of history. Wendy's Small Frosty is the ultimate summer refreshment. And not because it's cool and creamy and made with fresh Canadian dairy.

It's also refreshingly cheap. Just 99 cents until July 14th. It's a treat for you and your wallet. Well, thank you for listening to this episode of After Dark. Please follow this show wherever you get your podcasts. It really helps us and you'll be doing us a big favour. Don't forget, you can listen to all these podcasts ad-free and watch hundreds of documentaries when you subscribe at historyhit.com forward slash subscribe.

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