The Murder of Anna Nosko
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Sources:
https://www.columbian.com/news/2022/apr/03/clark-county-history-anna-nosko-murder-of-1923/
https://ia902206.us.archive.org/20/items/TrueDetectiveNov1925/TrueDetectiveNov1925.pdf
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Zevon Odelberg is a true crime podcast host and disability advocate. Zevon has cerebral palsy and he wants Kinda Murdery to be welcoming community for people with disabilities and for people living with challenges of any kind. Life can be hard, but being together makes it better.
Warning. Kind of Murdery contains adult themes, explicit language, and descriptions of
violence. It is not suitable for anyone, and we recommend you stop listening
now. I'm Zevan Odelberg, and this is kind of murdery. Please join
me as we uncover what truths we can and solve what mysteries we may.
The murder of Anna and Nosco starts now. Anna Nosco collected the family mail
on her way home from school every day. Then, on March eighth,
nineteen twenty three, the eleven year old girl was late returning to her family's
farm. When Anna was late getting home, missus Nosco, Anna's mother,
revealed to her husband that she had had a terrifying dream about her daughter.
Just the night before. Missus Nosco had dreamt that Anna, just four days
short of twelve years old, had been coming up the railroad tracks to her
home when an evil looking man had stepped out to attack her. He had
struck Anna with a crushing fist, then taken out a blackjack or a sap
from his pocket and struck her a deadly blow on the head. At this
point in her dream, missus Nosco told her husband that she'd rose in affright
wide awake, Anna had still not returned home. In the town of Battleground,
Clark County, Washington, Paul Nosco told his story to his friends and
neighbors that his daughter Anna had not returned home, that her mother had had
a terrible dream just the night before. Men began to gather. Their faces
were grim, and they carried weapons. Some had shotgun and slung under their
arms. Others carried rifles. A few had armed themselves with stout clubs.
It was an eerie scene as men prepared for a man hunt. The snow
still fell, The wind howled here and there through the white waste. Lantern
lights flickered. The countryside was desperately searching for the beloved little girl who'd so
strangely dropped from sight. I know she's dead, Anna's mother wailed. When
she went to school this morning, she skipped down the walk, then she
paused, and she came back. She ran to me, and she kissed
me again and said, mother, dear, I may never see you again.
How did a little girl, a mere child? Since the disaster was
soon to befall her. As missus Nosco shared her story of Anna's premonition,
Bert Anna's younger brother, sensing that something was vitally wrong, said to his
mother, I saw a man dash out of the bushes along the railroad track
this afternoon. He picked up an umbrella, I think it was Anna's,
and then he ran for cover again. When asked what else he had seen,
the boy replied that there was nothing else except that nearby the railroad track
where he'd seen the man with the umbrella, there was a dog, Eddie
Whitfield's dog. Now, the testimony of a small boy under stress and excitement
may not be reliable, and Eddie Whitfield's dog being on the railroad track did
not actually signify a thing. It was natural for Eddie Whitfield's dog to be
around that spot, after all. The john took homestead, where Eddie Whitfield
lived, was adjacent to the track and the nearest house to the Noscos.
Through the gloom, every inch of the railroad track was covered with a fine
tooth comb. Still, the search was unrewarded. Then one man ahead of
the others cried out wildly and pointed Stuck to the barbed wire fence on the
side of the railroad was a piece of cloth. It looked like it might
have been torn from Anna's coat as she was dragged through the fence. The
searchers followed through tensions, mounted conversation. Dwindled men cradled their rifles and shot
guns and swore quietly. The temper of the crowd was beginning to turn ugly.
If murder had been committed, swift and arbitrary mob justice might be dealt.
An umbrella lay in the path. There was no doubt it was Anna's.
The posse steps quickened and they went on, undoubtedly the sort of general
who leads from the front. Sheriff Bill Thompson set the pace for the posse,
and as they searched, hoping to run down an arrest the perpetrator of
one of the foulest crimes that ever stained the record of southwestern Washington, the
sheriff was thinking back, pulling out all the odd bits of information that he'd
gathered through the years. Who, he wondered, fits this beastly crime?
Who could have done it? A man of abnormal instincts? Of course?
Was there anyone in the community. He racked his b who showed evidence of
sufficiently abnormal psychology. Suddenly the sheriff stopped in his tracks. Come on,
he commanded, I have a lead. The posse walked rapidly toward the Old
two homestead while Sheriff Thompson explained that he wanted to question George Edward Whitfield.
The sheriff graphically reconstructed a scene and acted. On July twenty fourth, nineteen
twenty two, a little less than a year before Anna had disappeared. At
that time, Sheriff Thompson, armed with a search warrant, had rated the
two house in quest of liquor, this being prohibition years. Of course,
he secured the liquor, although that is irrelevant to this story. In executing
his search warrant, he searched the trunk of Eddie Whitfield and pulled from that
trunk many things of questionable character. There were articles of intimate women's apparel,
garters, underwear there by the dozen silk stockings also numerous, and was more,
much more, but enough has been described. Along with the women's undergarments
were poems written by George Edward Whitfield. They were not poems which a man
would want to read aloud in the family circle. They were not poems for
children. They were, for the most part vile sexual and violent. Sheriff
Thompson also revealed that Eddie was a bit of an artist. In his room
were many pictures, all of one subject, a naked woman, Eddie Whitfields.
Our abnormality, Sheriff Thompson declared emphatically. Suddenly, the leaders of the
posse paused and drew back. In the presence of death. Anna Nosco's little
body lay beside a big rock upon a natural couch of fur needles. One
small, slim arm was thrown out from her side, the other arm was
drawn across her chest, the hand resting on her throat. Guards were left
with Anna's body and they built a bonfire against the chill of the night.
The rest of the posse arrived at the took place, along with battleground officer
James Holland, but Eddie Whitfield was not at home. Sheriff Thompson noted that
it was peculiar that Eddie Whitfield didn't join in the search for the missing girl.
He was, after all, the nearest neighbor to the Nosco's, yet
he made no effort to aid the Nosco family as they were facing dire tragedy.
What manner of man was he? Could he feel no concern, could
he manifest no grief? Of course, if Eddie Whitfield had done this awful
thing, he likely would not show up at all. He might in fact
be on his way out of the country. But no movement caught Sheriff Thompson's
eye. Eddie Whitfield was there. He was leaning over a bit one hand,
supporting himself on a big rock, straining to see the dead girl where
she lay. He was in his shirt sleeves. He wore no hat.
His hair was white with snow particles. The night was bitter cold, but
Eddie seemed not to feel the cruel bite of the wind. He did not
remain long looking at the little girl who lay so still and death. The
sight may have unnerved him. He could not stand still. He jiggled back
and forth where he stood. He moved from place to place. His mouth
was twisted into a leering grin. Quick as a flash, Sheriff Thompson closed
the distance between himself and Whitfield, drew his gun and stuck it in Whitfield's
gut. Put your hands up, Whitfield, You're under arrest for the murder
of Anna Nosco. The sheriff growled, Now a word on the state of
Anna's body when it was discovered Anne who did the discovering. The search party
that found Anna's body was made up of around thirty neighbors, including a man
named Frederick Vandermast. They were all volunteers. It was Vandermast who discovered Anna's
umbrella and the postal letters scattered on the ground, the first troubling indications of
a crime. Later, as I've mentioned, a searcher came across Anna's body
away from a road in the brush just over the border of the two farm.
Someone had ripped the clothes from her body, cut her throat, and
bashed in her face. When Sheriff Thompson arrested Whitfield as he leered over Little
Anna's corpse, Whitfield immediately protested his innocence, but there were scratches on the
back of his hand and traces of blood on his underwear. Whitfield claimed this
was because he'd butchered a chicken, but Thompson charged him with first degree murder,
assuming a rape. Sheriff Thompson collected bits of foreign matter from Whitfield's groin,
placing each in a cigarette paper. He followed an evidence technique. He'd
learned it a lecture by Luke May, an early Seattle forensic pioneer. The
brutality of Anna's murder shocked and angered the entire county. Just a few days
after Whitfield's arrest, the Tuke family farmhouse burned as flame shot skyward. A
large group watched, making no attempt to extinguish the blaze. Reportedly, two
men were seen skulking around the place with torch, but no arrests were made.
Hearing rumors of a plan to break Eddie Whitfield out of jail to lynch
him, Sheriff Thompson moved Whitfield to Pierce County and then returned him six days
later. Whitfield's brother, John, a material witness in the case, refused
to return to Battleground fearing his own quote necktie party. During the trial before
Judge George Simpson, the defense attorneys, Charles Lane and W. E.
Yates first used an insanity plea, then they dropped it. They petitioned to
change the venue but failed. Next, they tried to create doubt with the
jurors by implicating Vandermast in the murder. Remember, Vandermast was the community member
who found her umbrella and mail strewn about before they discovered Anna's body. Attorney
Lane claimed that Vandermast could not look at the body, while Whitfield walked up
to view the body and was not shaken, implying that Vandermast's anxiety showed guilt
while the defendant's nonchalance showed innocence. That's the opposite of the conclusion that I
would likely draw, which is that Vandermath's anxiety showed empathy while the defendant's nonchalance
showed sociopathy. But then, I'm not a defense attorney, am I?
Meanwhile, working behind the scenes, the forensic scientist Luke May was scientifically saw
in the case. He told the press he'd uncovered highly damaging evidence, but
would not reveal it except in court. At trial, May present that his
forensic evidence he confirmed the blood on Whitfield's clothing was human and not belonging to
a chicken, as Whitfield had claimed. May found half a fur needle near
Anna's pelvis when he examined the girl. Sheriff Thompson had also collected half a
fur needle, which he'd sealed in the cigarette papers. After the arrest of
Eddie Whitfield may microscopically match the needle's two broken ends, that the half a
needle the sheriff had taken from Whitfield's underwear was a perfect match for the half
a needle may found in Anna Nosco's pelvic area, thereby proving the prosecution's case.
The jury found the defendant guilty of first degree murder, and Judge Simpson
sentenced him to hang. Lawyers Yates and Lane filed an appeal and lost,
and on June thirteenth, nineteen twenty four, a calm and collected Eddie Whitfield
mounted the walla walla prison gallows stairs. After the trapdoor dropped, two prison
doctors declared him dead at four forty four am, and finally the rape and
murder of little Anna Nosca had been avenged. Although vengeance is nothing but the
coldest of comforts when the life of a child has been taken. Thank you
for joining me on this trek through the darkness. Please do return this Sunday
evening for a brand new episode. I'm Zevan Odelberg, and this has been
kind of murdering
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