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Based on the true story of the Bloody Benders will be FREE 10 05 16 to 10 09 16 .pdf

Nombre del archivo original: Based on the true story of the Bloody Benders will be FREE 10-05-16 to 10-09-16.pdf
Título: Last Meal: Based on the true story of the Bloody Benders
Autor: Paul Ibbetson

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Last Meal
Based on the true story
of the Bloody Benders

Dr. Paul A.


America’s first serial killer

No Compromise Media 2016

1 Present Day: The
Investigation Begins
The smell of human decay hung
in the air. No matter which way the wind
blew the stench of death seemed to cling
to every scent brought forth by the
Kansas prairie. It was the first thing
Detective Robert Johnson noticed as his
horse began to climb what was rapidly

being called “Bender’s Mound.” Death
was ahead of him, and if the reports
were accurate, it would be something
worse than he had ever seen in his hard
fought life.
Johnson was a detective for the
Clint Parker Security Agency. The man
was thirty-five years old and had a
muscled frame. His blond hair was
complemented by a rugged face,

complete with two, thin knife scars,
which ran down his left cheek. His eyes
were piercingly blue and penetrating.
His physical attributes highlighted his
tenacious ability to finish the most
daunting of tasks. Johnson was a
“finisher.” He was what the esteemed
Clint Parker called, “The best man to put
on the trail of cold-blooded killers.” The
ex-civil war soldier was fast with a gun

and deadly with a blade. More
importantly, he encompassed both the
deadly grit of a frontiersman with the
cognitive abilities of what was being
termed, “the modern day criminal
investigator.” Most importantly, Johnson
didn’t work for love of money. This set
him apart from a great many men who
carried a badge. He was not a slave to
drink or any other vice, which

differentiated him from most of the rest.
Johnson, a highly effective
deputy, had left a sheriff’s position in
Dodge City, Kansas to join Clint Parker
five years previous, when the man had
broken business relations with Alan
Pinkerton. It was their combined, driven
nature to succeed where others fail,
which drew Parker and Johnson
together. Clint Parker and Alan

Pinkerton together had founded the
highly successful Pinkerton Detective
Agency following their service together
in the Union Army during the war. Both
men had served as military intelligence
and together they had created a special
branch of spies, which collected critical
intelligence on Confederate troop
movements. When not in conflict with
one another, they were a masterful team.

Together, they created information
gathering techniques such as shadowing
suspects, advanced surveillance, and
working undercover using various alias
names. The two had successfully
thwarted an assassination attempt on
President Abraham Lincoln in
Baltimore, Maryland.
They had agreed that a formal
organization should be created to protect

the President but it had not yet come to
fruition when Lincoln was assassinated
in the Ford Theatre. The President’s
death had strained their relationship, but
it was Pinkerton’s fruitless quest to kill
or capture the train and bank robber
Jesse James that had split their
Jesse James was an elusive
rogue along with his gang of outlaws,

which required being dealt with. The
Railroad was quick to hire the Pinkerton
Detective agency, which was filled with
former military men and had the slogan
“we never sleep.” However, their usual
efficiency was fruitless against a
gentleman thief who had extensive ties to
the local communities. James was akin
to a modern day Robin Hood, and finally
the Railroad stopped funding Pinkerton’s

attempts to catch the gang. Pinkerton,
who was too prideful to relent, started
spending company money in continued
attempts to capture the robber. That was
the end for Parker who took his company
shares and went his own. There was no
surprise that the Clink Parker Security
Agency was created, or that both men
would be become harsh competitors. It
was in their blood. Since the split, the

battle between the two agencies had
remained constant. Pinkerton had the
money, the name, and the press. Parker
had a handful of highly capable people,
and they made a living but not much
more. What the Clint Parker Security
Agency needed was a golden moment, a
media worthy event. Something to place
them in the public consciousness. The
Bender murders in Kansas could very

well be that moment. Sure, the Pinkerton
Agency and every other bounty hunter
for five states around would be
attempting to collect the two-thousand
dollar reward offered by Kansas
Governor, Thomas Osborn. Notice of the
reward was in the copy of the
newspaper Johnson now carried, but the
money wasn’t all of it. If Clint Parker’s
men could make the capture, their

credibility would be near equal with
their rival. In fact, the Pinkerton agency
had made it that much easier for them.
Despite having three times as many men
and extensive funds, the agency had over
extended itself putting large amounts of
assets into assisting the Spanish
government quell a revolution in Cuba.
There was a real opportunity here, but it
wouldn’t last forever.

The teams of horses alongside
the trail were an obvious precursor to
the number of onlookers, which would
be present at the top of the mound. To
reach the mound itself required riding a
two mile incline of dirt track commonly
known as the Osage Trail. The trail,
which went near the Bender Inn, was
part of a much longer route. It had been
used to forcibly move local Indians

south from the state to newly created
Indian reservations in Oklahoma and
Now the trail was a fairly high
traffic transit route for travelers moving
across the state and beyond. Bender’s
Mound was unique for several reasons.
Of course, in this area of southeast
Kansas, any noticeable elevation from
the common flat terrain was unique. But

this trail, which lead to Bender’s Inn,
was flanked on both sides by a tree row
with a mix of medium sized hedge,
hackberries and oaks. For the traveler
moving across the state, the trees brought
a welcomed bit of shade on what was
mostly a tree-less Kansas plain. For
Johnson, the trees had a bothersome
connection to the dead bodies he was
about to observe as his horse made the

At the top of the mound the road
evened out, and after only a quarter mile,
to the south, about one-hundred yards off
the road was the Bender Inn, or at least
what was left of it. Had it not been for
the reports of mass murder, the farm
would have looked very normal. Rest
stops like these were common place.
The small house was close enough for

the crudely written and misspelled sign
that stated, “grocry” to be seen, clearly
signifying that supplies could be
acquired therein. The flip-side of the
sign had the proper spelling “groceries”
written in a fine hand.
Unfortunately, hundreds, no make
that thousands of people now surrounded
the property, including the house, which
had been uprooted and moved twenty

five yards from its foundation. Pieces of
the homestead had been destroyed during
the move, and it was obvious to Johnson
that onlookers were also starting to take
pieces of the dwelling as souvenirs.
A makeshift hitching post had
been set up by the local justice of the
peace, George Majors. He served the
nearby town of Cherryvale, which was
about to be incorporated, and had a

Bender history of its own. Majors had
designated the hitching post for law
enforcement horses only, and a young
boy was being paid to make sure nothing
was stolen. The boy told Johnson that
Constable Majors was in the orchard
south of the home with the diggers. The
“diggers” was a term that had new
meaning on top of Bender’s Mound. The
Thayer Headlight newspaper, which

was in Johnson’s saddlebag, was over
four days old. It stated that four bodies
had been discovered in the orchard south
of the main house and more digging was
underway. The newspaper staff also
questioned the missing status of their
own editor as possibly tied to criminal
events at the Bender Inn. It was in the
orchard the first of the bodies had been

The newspaper had already
identified several of the initially
discovered dead. Bill McCrotty’s body
had been identified. The man had lived
near Osage Mission and was known to a
few locals, plus he had a very
distinguishable tattoo on his left arm that
read, “W.F. McCrotty” with a picture of
the American Flag below the inscription.
Ben Brown who had been in route from

Cedarvale to Chautaqua County had also
been identified by family. Two
additional unidentified male bodies had
also been unearthed from shallow graves
in the orchard and were awaiting
George Majors knew Johnson
was coming and met him near the
“It’s a damn mess out here.

Every day we unearth more misery.” He
said as he spit a mouthful of tobacco,
which shot out in a long, brown arc.
Majors was fifty-five years old and had
the red nose of an enthusiastic drinker.
The summer heat was not agreeing with
him and large beads of sweat poured
from his beat-red face. He swabbed
aggressively at his brow with a worn

The Constable had twenty-five
men working shovels, and they were
slowly expanding their perimeter in the
orchard. As a crime scene, there was
almost zero containment. Many of the
locals were helping to keep most of the
public from being directly under foot in
the orchard but the Bender’s farm had
received national attention, and evidence
was being trampled almost as soon as it

was discovered. Majors brought with
him several documents, which had been
wired through the Clint Parker Security
Agency. Johnson would read everything
his agency had amassed on the Benders
from the newspaper in the town of
Thayer and other sources. That was his
next destination. The Bender trail was
getting colder by the moment, but he had
to see the crime scene, take it in, with all

his senses.
Majors advised him diggers
had discovered the body of local doctor,
William York. This discovery had
inflamed the locals who held the doctor
in high regard. Since the discovery,
several lynch mobs had been formed and
were already running wild in hopes of
finding the killers. As bad as trigger
happy farmers was the doctor’s youngest

brother, Colonel Edwin York, from Ft.
Scott who was on the war path for blood
and had no intention of bringing the
Benders to trial. Majors advised
Johnson that the doctor’s second brother,
Alexander York, a sitting Kansas
Senator had petitioned Governor
Osborne to put up a bounty for the
Benders. Despite giving anyone who
could collect the reward a stake in

seeing the Benders brought to justice,
Majors warned that the doctor’s brother,
Colonel Edwin York, would have no
reluctance of running over anyone he felt
got in the way of catching these
criminals. Colonel York had also
relinquished a sizable amount of his own
personal fortune to hire men beyond the
soldiers under his command. Johnson
would soon be heading in their same

direction and he planned to arrest the
Benders before Colonel York and his
men could put them to a rope or worse.
After he had been briefed by the
constable, and collected all the teletype
communications, Johnson did what made
him better than most detectives of the
age; he stood back and fully observed
the scene. He walked by the open graves
and scrutinized the corpses despite some

hard looks from the crowd. He walked
the Bender house, he checked the shed
and barn, and did a cursory observation
of a tunnel system below the house’s
foundation. Then, from different vantage
points, he observed the farm from atop
Bender’s Mound. Everything he
observed would be written down and he
would refer to his notes again and again
over the course of the investigation. One

thing became readily apparent. The
Bender farm had been created to be a
highly effective kill zone. As he had
noticed from his approach to Bender’s
Mound, one could not see any activity
from a distance. Even the hordes of
people and the grave diggers were
obscured by the apple orchard. Was this
simply fortuitous for the Benders, or had
they planted the orchard themselves?

Next, was this section of the Osage
Trail. Because of the tree row, anyone
coming through the trail from either
direction north or south toward the
Bender Inn would be blocked from
seeing activity on the property until less
than a quarter mile away. However, from
the high ground of Bender mound, and
Johnson had confirmed this on both sides
of the property, one could see anyone

approaching from over five miles away.
His military instincts began to kick in,
and the value of this high ground had to
have played a part in what happened
here. He hoped the documents he carried
would confirm the theories that were
building in his mind.
Back toward the orchard
screams arose, which tore Johnson from
his thoughts. The screams came from

women and were followed by the
shouting of men. The crowd, which had
migrated to the trail side of the property
started moving back towards the
orchard. Something was going on.
Johnson followed behind the
main surge of people and observed what
was happening without being knocked
about by the crowd. There were several
rounds of wailing from the crowd, which

seemed to carry on the wind like a dark
cloud. Whatever it was that had been
discovered, it appeared to be the worst
yet. Soon Johnson quietly made his way
to the point of interest.
The disturbance was brought
about by a newly discovered grave that
held two bodies. The Loncher family,
who had come in from out of state, were
present, as were almost anyone who had

missing family members or friends from
the last three years. The Loncher family
identified the bodies immediately as
George Loncher and his seven year-old
daughter Mary Ann. George Loncher’s
body had been stripped, and he had been
stabbed several times. Whatever had
happened to him, it had been violent and
more so than any of the discovered
bodies so far. Until now, all the victims

had been adult males. All had skulls
which had been crushed, and in the case
where the bodies were well enough
intact to properly view, all had had their
throats slashed. Until the discovery of
George Loncher, none of the victims had
been stabbed.
Now the depths of the Bender
atrocities would reach new heights−the
killing of a child. By God’s grace the

young girl had not been stripped, and she
still wore a light blue dress and white
stockings. A single black slipper was on
her left foot, the other presumably still
somewhere in the shallow grave. Her
skin was porcelain white, and combined
with her blonde hair, which still shined,
seemed to take on the quality of a doll.
Johnson wondered if this was simply his
mind trying to reject the reality of what

had been done to such an innocent. He
quickly cleared his thoughts and
observed the scene as an investigator.
The back of the girl’s head had not been
smashed and her throat had not been cut.
In fact, there were no visible marks upon
her body from a cursory inspection.
Whatever had happened to this child
was brought about by a process different
from the others. However, the end result

had been the same, death and burial in a
shallow grave. The Harmony Grove
church attendees, who had been singing
hymns all afternoon, had been on break
but the new discovery brought them back
with a new round of “Safe in the arms of
Jesus.” Johnson had heard loose talk in
the crowd earlier that day that Kate and
her brother John Bender had been
regular attendees to the church and that

Kate may have even taught Sunday
school. The grand parents of the dead
child soon made their way to the grave,
and a new round of wailing began.
Johnson had seen enough.
The detective mounted his horse
and prepared to go north to Thayer,
when again another ruckus arose from
behind him. Now, a body was being
pulled from the property’s well. He had

walked by the well several times
without thinking about anything out of the
ordinary. The boy who had been
watching his horse had seen an object
shining deep in the water and had gotten
the attention of two nearby citizens who
had hooked the body of a full grown
male. From the greyish color of the
man’s skin and the bloated nature of his
body, he had been partially submerged in

the water for most likely near on a
month. The man’s clothes were fancy
and he was obviously someone of
means, but in his state identification
could take some time. A wave a
vomiting swept through the crowd as the
thick, putrid smell of rotting flesh hit the
wind. More than a small number of
onlookers had drunk from the water of
the well throughout the day, which

brought more vomiting and renewed
My God, what really happened
here? Johnson thought to himself as he
left the newest revelation of carnage
behind him for the trail.

2 The Train Robbery

The sun was starting to set and

normally he would have stopped for the
night, had a meal, and waited until
morning to continue. Travelling at night
was a dangerous and often fool hardy
action on the Kansas plains. While the
threat was no longer Indian attacks, any
injury could mean death, and the open
prairie left most travelers on their own
to fend for themselves. Johnson shook
his head. This was exactly what made so

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