Money Crimes with Nicole Lapin - The Villisca Axe Murders: Eight Victims, No Answers

Episode Date: July 31, 2026

In June 1912, eight people were bludgeoned with an axe in a Villisca, Iowa home while they slept. The killer left behind a staged scene filled with bizarre clues but no clear identity, plunging a tight-knit community into fear and suspicion. Follow Serial Killers & Murderous Minds for part 2 of this episode: https://pod.link/1769285458If you’re new here, don’t forget to follow Scams, Money, & Murder to never miss a case! To hear episodes ad-free, subscribe to Crime House+. Join at crimehouseplus.com or if you’re listening on Apple Podcasts, tap “Try Free” at the top of this show’s page. Scams, Money, & Murder is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios.🎧 Need More to Binge? Listen to other Crime House Originals Clues, Crimes Of…, Crime House 24/7, Serial Killers & Murderous Minds, Murder True Crime Stories, and more wherever you get your podcasts!Follow me on SocialInstagram: @CrimehouseTikTok: @CrimehouseFacebook: @crimehousestudiosX: @crimehousemediaYouTube: @crimehousestudios

Hi listeners, it's Vanessa. Before today's episode, I want to tell you about another show I think you'll love. Crime House and A&E are teaming up on the podcast version of the famous true crime series, The First 48. Each week, Carter Roy takes you inside a landmark homicide case, the interrogations, the dead ends, and the breakthroughs in the critical first 48 hours. Listen to and follow the First 48 every Thursday on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen to podcasts. This is Crime House.

For most people, home represents safety. It's where we can rest our heads and go to sleep at night knowing we're safe from the outside world. Unfortunately, that illusion is sometimes shattered, especially in the face of sudden and gruesome crimes. That's exactly what happened in the town of Valiska, Iowa, in the summer of 1912. On a seemingly ordinary night, a killer entered a home and murdered an entire family.

Despite a set of bizarre clues the killer left behind, investigators were left with little concrete evidence until they set their sights on a strange and elusive suspect. Now, more than a century later, were left haunted by not just the crime itself, but the possibility that the person behind it left behind a trail of terror, bigger than anyone had imagined. The human mind is powerful. It shapes how we think, feel, love, and hate. But sometimes it drives people to commit the unthinkable.

This is serial killers and murderous minds, a crime house original. I'm Vanessa Richardson. And I'm forensic psychologist Dr. Tristan Engels. Every Monday and Thursday, we uncover the darkest minds in history, analyzing what makes a killer. Crime House exists because of listeners like you. Want even more? Join Crime House Plus and get both parts of every story dropped on the same Monday,

completely ad-free. No waiting three days for part two, plus Crime House bonus episodes every month. To join, go to CrimehousePlus.com. Or if you listen on Apple Podcasts, tap Try Free at the top of the serial killers and murderous minds page. Before we get started, be advised. This episode contains descriptions of violence, sexual assault and murder of adults and children. So please listen with care.

Today, we begin our deep dive on the Velisca Axe murders, one of the most infamous unsolved crimes in American history. In the summer of 1912, the murder of eight people inside a family home shattered the small town of Velisca, Iowa, and triggered a wave of terror throughout the Midwest. One we're still coming to terms with today. And as Vanessa goes through the story,

I'll be talking about things like why some offenders engage in extreme or excessive violence, how gossip and rumors can lead to false conclusions, and the psychological impact of extreme fear and uncertainty on communities. And as always, we'll be asking the question, What makes a killer? No one ever expected terror to strike in the town of Valiska, Iowa. In 1912, Valiska was a railroad town, surrounded by farmland. The trains that passed through carried livestock, produce, laborers,

and traveling salesmen. This daily commerce bolstered the town's population and prosperity. But Valiska maintained its neighborly spirit. People there knew each other and looked out for one another. They felt safe leaving their doors unlocked at night. That sense of safety allowed people like Josiah Moore, who went by Joe, to plant firm roots. For years, Joe had made a living, living selling farm equipment. He started out working under a mentor, a wealthy businessman named Frank Jones, before he opened his own John Deer dealership. Joe's business was an overnight success, but his financial freedom came at a cost. He'd become a direct competitor to his former boss and mentor. Before long, a rift formed between the two men. Frank accused Joe of poaching customers.

Soon, the gossip surrounding the rivalry spread like wildfire. It seemed like the bitterly. It seemed like the bitterness between them had become personal. Rivalries like this can feel a lot bigger in small, close-knit communities than they do in larger cities because your customers are your neighbors and your friends. And your livelihood largely depends on your reputation. This situation with Joe and Frank, mentor turns competitor, can feel like a personal betrayal because of that. And disputes in these environments can affect the entire community because there's a higher

than average likelihood that everyone knows each other in some capacity. They may feel pressured to choose sides. Rumors also tend to spread and trust can become affected. I also think we have to remember that people don't always respond rationally to feelings of betrayal. Research consistently shows that people often react more strongly to losing something that they already had, like for example, in this case, customers or status or influence. If someone perceives that another person is threatening their lively, or their existing social standing, those feelings can become incredibly emotionally charged really fast. But most of the time, that results in things like resentment or civil disputes or just impaired personal and business relationships. How do personal feelings and community gossip

shape the stories people tell themselves about a conflict? So let's say Frank is your friend. You may not see then Joe as an ambitious businessman opening his own dealership. You may see him then as someone who betrayed your friend Joe, the person who helped him become successful. But if Joe is your friend, then suddenly Frank can become the jealous former boss trying to punish someone for leaving and then succeeding. And that's when confirmation bias often comes in. People start gathering evidence that supports the version they already believe while dismissing information that contradicts it. Every new customer that Joe gains becomes proof he was poaching business from Frank, or every complaint Frank makes becomes proof he's bitter

in seeking revenge against Joe. That's also what gossip can become so harmful because information gets repeated, assumptions get added, and then after a while, it begins to feel like facts, even when they're not. So in small communities, conflicts,

they rarely stay between just two people. Despite the two men's heated divide, Joe maintained a good reputation around town. By the summer of 1912, when Joe was 43 years old, people viewed him as a warm, friendly, and upstanding citizen. He was also a dedicated family man, and his business success allowed him to purchase a modest farmhouse for his wife, 40-year-old Sarah, and their four children. The Moors were extremely tight-knit. Joe and Sarah's oldest son, Herman, wanted to be just like his

dad. At just 11 years old, he accompanied his father to work and even parted his hair the same way Joe did. while the two of them were at the dealership during the day, Sarah stayed home with the other three kids. Nine-year-old Catherine helped tend to the chickens and care for the horses whom she adored. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Boyd and five-year-old Paul kept Sarah busy. Overall, the Moors led a quaint, happy life, but they were beginning to feel a bit cramped in their house. There were only three bedrooms between all six of them, two upstairs and one downstairs. On busy days, the family flitted between bedrooms and a small. parlor room while squeezing past each other on the narrow staircase. The Moors may have envisioned

themselves moving into a bigger home one day, but for now they were happy. After all, just like many families in Valiska, the Moors lived closely, not just with one another, but the broader community. Everyone in town was connected by their values, as well as their faith. Church events brought people together several times a week, including the annual Children's Day program at the Presbyterian Church. Each year, people gathered to watch the local children perform songs and readings. It was the kind of evening that reinforced everything people in Veliska believed about their town, that the people there were trustworthy and their traditions kept them safe and grounded. And that familiarity may have helped create that feeling of safety. Having the same routines and

surrounding yourself with the same people and attending the same church and community events can help our brain associate predictability with security or safety. There's collective trust being built in that community, and traditions play an important role in that because they provide consistency, and they reinforce shared identity. The Children's Day event is an example of that. It's a reminder that they were a community with collective values. The irony, though, is that familiarity can sometimes create blind spots. The safer and more predictable in environment feels, the less situationally aware we are, or aware of those blind spots. Our brains learn to create predictability and safety

as the same thing if we're not careful. I'm curious, what psychological benefits can people get from routines and traditions? Do these things contribute to more than just a sense of well-being, but a sense of true safety? Well, I'll say that this. Routines are incredibly important for psychological health. They provide structure, stability,

and they can reduce anxiety because our brains generally function better when it knows what to expect. For example, our sleep improves when we have a regular sleep routine. That alone helps improve emotional regulation, physical health, and overall functioning. Routines in general, from small to large, help us strengthen healthy habits like personal and social ones. They also help us establish purpose, stability, and consistency, especially during periods

of stress or transition. So in terms of having a sense of true safety, it's safety in the sense of, emotional and physical well-being. This is actually why I often encourage routines in my own private practice with therapy clients. In Valiska, church events weren't just about faith. They served as a reminder that people cared about each other, that they could depend on their neighbors. No one understood this better than Sarah Moore, who helped organize the Children's Day program on June 9, 1912. Sarah and Joe's kids participated in the event alongside their classmates and friends, including two sisters named Lena and Ina Stalinger. Lina was 11 years old and Ina was nine.

Their family lived outside the town on a nearby farm, and when the event was over, Catherine Moore invited them to stay the night. The service ran later than usual. Once it was done, the six members of the Moore family and their two guests left the church and stepped into the warm night. Outside, children played together while parents lingered along the sidewalks and church steps. A lot of the streetlights were broken at the time, so when people eventually headed home, they walked in near-complete darkness. The Moors and the Stillinger girls walked several blocks past closed storefronts. Joe and Sarah strolled with the younger kids, while the older ones followed closely behind. Once inside the Moor House, the children got ready for bed. Upstairs, the four more children,

Herman, Catherine, Boyd, and Paul shared one bedroom, while Joe and Sarah slept in the other. Downstairs in the small bedroom off the parlor, Lena and Aina settled in together. By around midnight, the household was completely silent. It wasn't until the next morning that anyone in Veliska realized the true horror that had unfolded overnight. Around 7 a.m., the Moore's next-door neighbor, Mary Peckham, noticed that Joe wasn't out doing his usual morning chores. He typically tended to the horses and chickens, but none of the animals had been fed. Mary thought that maybe the family was out running errands or someone had fallen ill. But after a while, she still didn't see anyone, and she grew more concerned.

This can be an example of how routines can create a sense of safety because your neighbors pick up on what is considered your baseline and what is not. And because of that, Mary noticed that something was off. Definitely, and because of that, Mary knocked on the Moor's front door, but no one answered. She knocked again and still nothing. She started to panic and contacted Joe's brother Ross, who rushed over with a spare key. Ross didn't notice any signs of forced entry, but when he let himself in, he was immediately struck with an eerie feeling. The house was unusually still. Even though none of the furniture or other

belongings seemed out of place, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. And when he pushed open the door of the small downstairs bedroom, Ross was met with the horrific truth. The shades were drawn, but even in the dim light he could make out the bed sheets pulled tight to the top of the bed and the forms of two people beneath them. The room smelled of death. Ross backed away, hurried outside, and told Mary to call the authorities. He could only say that something terrible had happened. Then he sat down on the edge of the porch, trying to take in what he'd seen. This is actually a really important reminder that people don't have to be. be direct victims of violence to experience trauma or even develop post-traumatic stress or acute

stress disorders. Unexpectedly discovering a scene like this can cause someone to go into survival mode. Their brains become focused on immediate action. And that's likely why Ross backed away, told Mary to call the authorities and then simply sat down. We often see people become momentarily detached like that or even appear calmer than expected because their brain is prioritizing functioning over-feeling, and the psychological impact of what they just experienced often comes later. At that point, people will then experience things like intrusive memories, guilt, difficulty sleeping, hypervigilance, or they repeatedly replay the event in their minds, wondering if they missed warning signs or could have done something differently, even when there was nothing they realistically

could have done. I also think it's important to remember the context here. This wasn't a stranger. This was Joe's brother. Both Ross and Mary are having to process a horrific discovery while also maybe even confronting any assumptions they had about their neighbors, their town, and their own sense of security, because this was undoubtedly the very last thing that they ever imagined to find when they walked in there. Ross couldn't understand how something so horrifying could happen to his own family. And more than a century later, we still don't know exactly what occurred inside the Moor House during the early morning hours of June 10th, 1912. But as investigators arrived and processed the scene, they realized just how difficult it would be to serve justice and restore the community's

sense of safety. And the town of Valiska was about to be torn apart. On the morning of April 19th, 1775, a ragged band of colonial militiamen took up arms against the powerful British army in an astonishing act of defiance. The shots fired that day in Lexington and Concord would echo around the world, marking the beginning of an extraordinary struggle for liberty, the American Revolution. Hi, I'm Lindsay Graham, the host of the podcast American History Tellers. We take you to the events, times and people that shaped America and Americans. Our values are struggles in our dreams. In our latest series, as we approach the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, we'll go beyond the familiar tale of powdered wigs and patriotic glory

into the messy, complicated story of what it actually took to build a new nation. As Patriot leaders endured brutal defeats and forged unlikely alliances, ordinary citizens would be left to ask themselves what freedom was really worth. Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of American History Tellers AdFrey right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. On the morning of June 10th, 1912, the Moore family and their two young guests were found murdered in their home in Velisca, Iowa.

When investigators arrived, they discovered the most brutal and violent crime the town had ever seen. Joe Moore's brother, Ross, had found the first two victims, Catherine's overnight guests, Lena and Ines Dillinger, in the small downstairs bedroom.

It was only when, investigators searched the rest of the house that they found Joe and Sarah upstairs in their bed beneath blood-stained sheets. When they entered that upstairs room, they were stunned by the level of blood spatter on the walls and ceiling. When they pulled back the sheets, they understood why. The couple had suffered devastating blows to the head. The attack was so violent, blood had soaked through the mattress, and pieces of skull were found in the bedding. Based on the pattern of the blood splatter, They theorized that Joe had been attacked first, then Sarah. And based on the positions of their bodies, it seemed like neither of them had woken up during

the attack. At first, detectives weren't sure what kind of weapon the murderer had used, but they knew it must have been some sort of heavy, sharp tool like a hammer or axe. Especially because as they looked closer at the ceiling, they noticed a gouge in the wood. Officers believed it had been caused by the killer's upward swing. And as they continued to analyze the scene, they realized the full scope of the horror. Because they knew the Moors had four children, and there was no sign of them, no voices or footsteps from anywhere else in the house.

They knew they needed to find them, and dreaded the worst. In the second upstairs bedroom beside their parents' room, detectives found the four more children, Herman, Catherine, Boyd and Paul murdered in their beds. The two Stillinger girls, Lena and Ina, where the bodies Ross had already found in the downstairs bedroom, eight victims in all. Just like Joe and Sarah, the murderer had covered each of the children with bed sheets or pieces of clothing. And when officers pulled back the sheets, they saw that each child was so badly wounded, they were barely recognizable. Based on the severity and shape of the wounds, it seemed like the killer had continued striking each victim long after they were dead. In addition, the investigators noticed that all of the injuries were contained to the victim's heads,

and that, like Joe and Sarah, it seemed like they'd all remained asleep when they were attacked, except for Lena, the older Stalinger sister. As officers examined the girls more closely, they found a single defensive wound on Lena's arm and a bloodstain just above her knee. It looked as though she'd woken up and tried to fight back. Her nightgown had been pushed up, and the position of her. Her body led some investigators to suspect a sexual motive, though the doctors who examined her found no evidence that she had been assaulted.

Finally, as officers continued processing the girl's bedroom downstairs, they made a crucial discovery. There, propped up against the wall, was a blood-soaked axe. People often assume that the more violent a crime is, the angrier the offender must have been. But that's not always true. Sometimes extreme violence reflects determination, ensuring that there are no survivors or an offender's desensitization to violence. Sometimes that's not even one offender responsible for a scene like this.

And the axe being the weapon of choice is interesting because that is a really physically demanding weapon. This entire scene is labor intensive. This offender had to move through a two-story house quietly, stand over each victim, and repeatedly strike them at very close range without alerting anyone else in the house. They had to have the physical capability to do this and be able to do it consecutively without hesitation or restraint, which says a lot about them psychologically.

And with regard to Aina, if there was no sign by the doctors that she was sexually assaulted, then we cannot say that he was sexually motivated. Her nightgown being pulled up could have been due to being shifted while she was fighting back. If he was sexually motivated,

there were other victims as well in that home that were not assaulted. I also think leaving the axe behind was likely practical more than anything. And it was likely the Moores axe to begin with because I can't imagine he carried it there, but also it would be very risky to leave their home carrying a bloody axe with him.

Remember, this is 1912. And in a tight-knit community, that would be noticed really quickly, someone carrying a bloody axe by anyone who spotted him. It's also evidence. So keeping it with him increases the chances of being caught. So all of these are practical explanations for this too. What can we glean from the fact that the killer focused mainly on each victim's head and face instead of their whole bodies that just was focused on that area and that most of the victims were children? And what about the fact that most of them seemed to have been asleep when they were killed. I think this supports the theory that whoever did this was determined

and highly focused on efficiency. Aiming for the heads eliminated resistance or interference because it's the most disabling part of the body, especially with a weapon like an axe. Attacking them while they slept meant they wanted them at their most vulnerable so they wouldn't be able to try and overpower him. And given that there were children, this may have been easier for him to carry out while they slept because if they were asleep, if it was dark, he could disconnect from what he was doing easier. They were able to psychologically compartmentalize what they were doing and suppress empathy if they had any. But this again is speculation. I don't know for sure. This is all just a theory. Well, one thing was clear. Violence of this level required enormous physical labor.

Investigators believed this indicated the killer had acted out of rage. However, it also seemed like mixed emotions came into play, because as officers continued gathering evidence, they found clues to suggest the killer stayed inside the house long after everyone was dead. Investigators found several mirrors that had been covered with pieces of clothing and fabric. They also noticed a few wall-mounted oil lamps had been dimmed, which they believed the killer had done to avoid detection. But the killer didn't just make an effort to conceal himself. He engaged in some bizarre behaviors as well. investigators found a slab of uncooked bacon on the floor of the downstairs bedroom next to the axe.

They also found a bowl of bloody water, which made them think he'd washed up after the murders. Despite these details, it was unclear how the killer had entered the house in the first place. Investigators wondered if he'd been hiding inside the house before the moors got home from church. There was a small attic-like storage area near the upstairs bedroom where he could have waited, perhaps for hours. I think the theory that the killer entered the home before the family returned from church is a very plausible one. If that's true, it tells us something about his approach. He had eight victims, and his biggest challenge was completing this without alerting anyone else in the house. Waiting until everyone was asleep would have significantly reduced that risk.

The slab of uncooked bacon is one of the strangest pieces of evidence, but there's likely a practical explanation for that. Did the family have a dog? I mean, if so, leaving food out would have been an effective way to distract the dog and keep it from barking, sniffing around his hiding place, or otherwise drawing attention to him. If there wasn't a dog, then the bacon becomes a little bit harder to explain. It's possible he intended to cook it for himself if he planned to remain in the house longer, but abandon the idea because something caused him to leave sooner than expected. Could it have been ritualistic or symbolic, possibly? some have suggested it could represent a form of dehumanization by equating his victims with livestock, but based on the evidence we have, I think that conclusion goes a little bit beyond what the scene of

the crime can actually support. The dimmed oil lamps also seem like a practical decision rather than a symbolic one. Lower light makes it more difficult for someone who unexpectedly wakes up to identify an intruder. They're more likely to mistake him for another family member. And at the same time, it gives him an advantage by allowing him to move through the home with less chance of being recognized or making it easier to approach someone else if they happen to wake up. And the covered mirrors are particularly interesting because to me, they suggest that he actually thought ahead. The first thing that came to mind when you mentioned that was that he wanted to eliminate any chance of someone catching his reflection from another angle or room. It's also possible that he didn't want to risk seeing himself during the murders.

Some offenders deliberately avoid looking at themselves because they want to maintain psychological distance between themselves and what they're about to do. And there are children in this home. But also, who's to say that the Moors hadn't done that too? Whatever the reason, this appears to be a highly organized offender who was thinking several steps ahead, anticipating problems before they occurred, and actively trying to minimize any chance imaginable of getting caught. This is the behavior of someone who had carefully rehearsed this crime in his mind at the very least or had possibly even done this before. And to me, that also suggests

he was probably familiar with the family, their home, and their routine. He either knew or had learned that they would be away that evening, giving him the opportunity to enter the house before they got home if that's what he did, of course. And again, this is purely speculation because we don't know for sure. So fascinating. And also, this was back in 1912. This was so, life was so different back then. And nowadays, how common do you think it is for killers to remain at the scene after a murder? And what are some of the common reasons why they would do that?

It's actually statistically rare in most cases, but it is well documented in certain subtypes of crimes, like robbery or sudden acts of passion. But it's rare in homicide because most offenders are focused on risk management and evading capture. The closest example to this that I can think of off the top of my head is the Golden State Killer, Joseph James DeAngelo. In fact, I immediately thought of him as you were taking us through the story. He would actually enter the home before he would do his attack, and he would unlock windows and doors, he would look for guns and unload them, he would hide any knives or other possible weapons, and he would disconnect telephones. Then, after the attacks, he would linger, often helping himself to food and beer in the home.

And the reason offenders do this differs. Some are lingering because they want to stage or pose the crime scene, sometimes to make it look like a suicide or an accident. Some linger to clean it up. But others linger for psychological gratification. They want to continue living in the moment. They often experience an intense rush during the act itself, and then staying there allows them to prolong it.

It can be about territorial possession and dominance. It depends really on the offender. It's unclear exactly how long the killer remained inside the house, but investigators believed the crimes took place between midnight and 5 a.m., which meant the killer left quickly enough to avoid anyone seeing him. Even though none of the Moor's neighbors had seen anything, people soon learned about the tragedy that had unfolded. Officers had notified the press,

and when the people of Valiska heard what happened, they were overtaken with fear and curiosity. By midday, a crowd had formed around, the house, which caused problems for the investigative team because onlookers didn't just stand outside. They forced their way in and moved freely about the house. Some were trying to make sense of what had happened. Others were just driven by morbid curiosity. Regardless, officers were unable to properly secure the scene. So as dozens of people tracked dirt across the floors and touched the furniture walls and bedding, they obscured what could have become crucial forensic evidence. Not

that, but some members of the public reportedly stole things from the home as souvenirs, only further compromising the scene. From there, horrifying details from inside the house quickly spread to the rest of Iowa and beyond. As reporters descended on Velisca, newspaper headlines focused on the murdered children and on the brutality of the scene. By that night, families in Velisca were living in fear. They double-bolted their doors and looked at each other with newfound suspicion. Everyone knew the killer was still out there, and he might be one of their own neighbors. The community's assumptions about safety have been shattered. Before the murders, like we talked about, they likely believe they knew their neighbors, that their children

were safe, and that something like this simply didn't happen there. And overnight, that's all changed in the most shocking and tragic way. The community is grieving this loss, but they're also now facing a lot of uncertainty, and that creates suspicion and fear, and this can cause isolation, lack of trust, and changes in their sense of safety. We also have to remember that many people in Veliska knew the Moore family. Some saw the crime scene. They helped recover the bodies or participated in the search for whoever did this. That's a different level of exposure. It's not uncommon to see acute stress reactions immediately afterward, or for some people, those symptoms can evolve into long-term conditions like PTSD, anxiety, or depression.

It seemed like Veliska had such a neighborly and trusting way of life. In the beginning, we were talking about how everyone kept their doors unlocked and knew each other. Why do you think people were so adamant about seeing that crime scene and getting in there? And do you know of any other cases where public interest or involvement took over in such a strong way? I think there were probably a few different things that were driving people's behavior here. For a lot of people, they simply wanted to see for them, that it was real. When something this horrific happens, especially in a small town where everyone knows each other, and especially what it involves children, it's almost impossible to wrap your

head around it. And seeing the scene with your own eyes can make it feel more real, but it also helps people make sense of something that feels completely senseless. Then there are the people, like you mentioned, who are driven by morbid curiosity. And we tend to think that's something abnormal, but it's actually a pretty normal human response. From an evolutionary standpoint, we're wired to pay attention to danger. We gather information. We mentally rehearse what happened, and we want to know, could this happen to us? And if so, how could we survive it?

That's one reason people are so drawn to tragedies even today. And also, this was a very different time, and many people knew them were family personally, like we talked about. Walking into their home may not have felt nearly as unusual then as it would today. For some, it may have been instinctive to check on the family or to see what had happened. The bigger issue, in my opinion, is that there wasn't adequate scene security to prevent contamination in the first place or to stop people from taking things from the home. But we also have to remember, we're looking at this for modern day.

Crime scene preservation in 1912 just wasn't what it is today. And to your second question, yeah, we've seen plenty of other cases like this. The Lizzie Borden House is probably one of the best known examples. Today it's a bed and breakfast because people still want to experience the location for themselves. After Ed Gein was arrested, so many people flocked to his property

and his house eventually burned down under suspicious circumstances and even his grave became targeted. There are even museums dedicated to notorious crimes and artifacts connected to many cases. This fascination with crime scenes isn't unique to Velisca.

It's a recurring part of human psychology. Suspicion starts started spreading throughout the town and eventually pointed to a man who had sat quietly inside the church the night before. But was he capable of murders this brutal? In the early morning hours of June 10th, six people were killed inside a family home in Velisca, Iowa. The victims included Joe and Sarah Moore, their four children, Herman, Catherine, Boyd, and Paul,

and Catherine's two friends, sisters Ina and Lena Stillinger. Each victim had been bludgeoned with an axe while they slept, and it seemed like the killer had stayed behind for hours, staging aspects of the scene. Still, there wasn't any evidence pointing to the killer's identity. Meanwhile, outside the house, fear was spreading rapidly, and so were rumors. Drifters often passed through Velisca by way of train, so some people believed the killer was a transient who'd quickly escaped. However, others believed the sheer level of violence seemed too intimate and excessive to be random.

They thought the family had been killed by someone who knew them personally. And because investigators lacked clear physical evidence, people quickly turned their suspicions on their own neighbors. One name surfaced repeatedly, Frank Jones. Frank, who was 57 years old at the time, was not only Joe's former business mentor, he was one of the wealthiest and most influential men in Valiska. For years, he'd served at different times on the Valiska City Council, the state board of education, and the state legislature.

Ever since Joe left Frank's business to start his own, rumors had swirled about the two men's heated rivalry. But their problems may have run deeper than that. According to town gossip, Joe had been having an affair with Frank's daughter-in-law, Dona. Dona was the subject of similar rumors involving other men, too, though none of it was ever substantiated. So it's possible the rumor about her and Joe was low-hanging fruit. But it didn't change people's suspicion toward Frank. They believed he may have wanted Joe out of the picture, not just to save his own business, but to save his family.

One of the hardest things for people to tolerate is uncertainty. And after a crime like this, there are far more questions than answers, and we just don't like that. And we naturally start looking for information that helps us fill in the gaps, even if that information hasn't been verified. That's where gossip comes in, in a small town especially, because, again, oftentimes they all know each other. Someone says they saw an argument a week before the murders. Someone else remembers hearing that a neighbor acted strangely.

And when that gets repeated enough, people believe it as facts. It sounds like eyewitness statements at that point. That doesn't mean that they have bad intentions necessarily, because in most cases they aren't trying to spread information. They're just trying to make sense of this tragedy. In your professional opinion, what does it take for someone's behavior to be considered a true pattern? This is an excellent question because I think people misinterpret what that means. Someone doing something more than once does not automatically qualify as a pattern.

A true pattern is something that is consistent. It's a behavior that shows up over and over again in different situations to the point where you can start predicting how that person is, likely to respond in the future. So for example, if someone loses their temper once, that doesn't tell me much by itself. But if they lose their temper every time they're criticized, every time they don't get their way, every time they feel embarrassed, now I'm seeing a pattern. It's no longer just an isolated event. I can start predicting that behavior. It's how they tend to handle those situations. It's consistency. That's a true pattern. Well, there was no hard evidence of Frank's guilt or even his alleged motive, which is why people easily formed other theories as well.

Another name kept popping up in the local gossip network, Reverend George Kelly. Kelly was in his mid-30s. He was born in England and had moved to the U.S. to pursue his dream of becoming a minister. He'd been traveling the region and had recently arrived in Velisca. And he'd attended the Children's Day program the night before the murders. While Sarah Moore directed the children, Kelly sat quietly among the congregation, watching. The people of Veliska had initially welcomed Kelly with open arms. However, people had always viewed him as a little eccentric due to his sudden and intense mood swings. Sometimes he got so excited about things, he became hyper and erratic. People often struggled to understand what he was saying when he was in this state.

For a while, they just thought he was odd. But now, they realized they didn't try. truly know him, and they started eyeing him with suspicion. Especially because within days of the crime, Kelly wouldn't stop talking about the murders. He inserted himself into conversations about the investigation, and it made people extremely uncomfortable. So now we're starting to see some in-group and out-group bias forming, and that's our tendency to trust and favor people we see as part of our own group while being more suspicious of people we see as outsiders. And in Valiska, the townspeople are the in-group, and Reverend Kelly is very

clearly part of the out-group. What's interesting, though, is that Reverend Kelly's behavior wasn't new. People already knew he was eccentric before the murders. They accepted him. They welcomed him into the community, and his odd behavior didn't seem to bother anyone at all that much. It was only after the murders that those same behavior suddenly became suspicious, and that's something we see all the time. Once people think they have found their suspect, they start looking backward and reinterpreting everything that person did with suspicion. It's also easier to point the finger at the outsider, the person who just got there and may be passing through, than accepting that it might be someone from Velisca, their in-group. From an evolutionary standpoint, it's theorized that in-group out-group bias

developed because being cautious of unfamiliar people likely helped our ancestors survive. It was an adaptive strategy for competitive survival back then. The problem is that our brains still use that same shortcut today, even though being different or socially awkward, doesn't make someone guilty of a crime alone. It's possible Reverend Kelly picked up on people's suspicion and tried to divert attention away from himself. Kelly started inserting himself into the case,

telling people he'd heard strange sounds in the night, later claiming he may have even witnessed the murders, and writing rambling letters to investigators laying out his own theories. Still, the minister continued to insert himself into the investigation. By contacting law enforcement directly, he sent letters to the authorities outlining his own theories about the murders and offering suggestions about how the case should be solved. Kelly couldn't stop talking about the murders. Townspeople later recalled him recounting the killings in unsettling detail. The local druggist's wife testified she heard him describe how the victims had been struck.

His fixation on the crime deeply unnerved the people around him. However, much like with Frank Jones, it didn't matter how convinced people were of Kelly's guilt because there was no hard evidence tying him to the murders. Investigators seemed to realize that lack of evidence was a huge problem, so they returned to the crime scene to see what else they could learn. They realized that the killer hadn't stolen any money or valuables from the home. In fact, there were no signs he'd even looked for those things. In addition, when they re-examined the murders themselves,

they concluded that the killer had worked completely uninterrupted. He murdered each victim in quick succession, as though he'd planned each step. However, these discoveries seemed to raise even more questions, like why the scene had been staged, and it seemed impossible to find answers based on how, badly the scene had been compromised. Not to mention, in 1912, forensic science remained extremely limited compared to modern investigations. DNA testing was a long way off from being developed, and although fingerprinting existed, no usable prints were ever recovered from the trampled scene.

Suffice it to say, investigators were at a standstill. They'd made zero progress. All the while, the people of Velisco were becoming more terrified they'd be next. With no new leads to follow, authorities focused on the two names already on their radar, Frank Jones and Reverend George Kelly. And eventually, they discovered that one of the men had been hiding shocking secrets from his past. Thanks so much for listening. Come back next time for the conclusion of our deep dive on the Valiska Axe murders. Serial killers and murderous minds is a crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support.

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