I his case is so unusual that it would most likely not have been allowed to be called a ‘crime of passion’ even in France, and it contains such a stroke of luck for the offender that it offers a rare glimpse into the workings of the law in the nineteenth century.
Fleetgate in Barton is a long, narrow road leading from the centre of town down to the waterside. Now it still has plenty of older buildings along its edge and a few small homes. In the mid-Victorian period, one of the dwellers in Fleetgate was a carpenter called Sanderson. As with so many killers, there was a certain variety of local reputation that drew on a side to his character that has no bearing at all on this murderous tale: he was known as Happy Jack.
There was nothing happy about him when it came to his wife. There is nothing on record to suggest that he had any good reason to be jealous of her, but he was insanely so, and his behaviour led to some obsessive and erratic actions. People at the time must have seen that his too-vigilant and aggressive attitudes to her would lead to something serious, and it did.
This was on a dark evening in 1851. Sanderson was startled by the sound of gravel being thrown against the window. Little could be so stereotypical of a lovers’ tryst, and he sprang into action, assuming that his wife and lover were trying to communicate. He dashed outside to look around and he saw a man called Thompson, who worked on the New Holland line as an engine driver. No questions were asked, just immediate and very extreme action against the man, yet it may not even have been Thompson who threw the gravel.
Sanderson had a poker in his hand and he caught the man close to Credland’s wall. Thompson was beaten mercilessly, in a frenzied attack. It took him several days to die, and this was from a fractured skull. He was carried home after being found lying in his own blood on the pathway. If anyone saw all this, they said nothing or did nothing at the time.
Now the amazing twist of fate occurred. The case was being undertaken by the Magistrates’ Clerk, Mr Graburn, and the Reverend Charles Barton, the Rector of Saxby. Incredibly, they paid a call to the bedside of the dying man, and from that point there emerged a disgraceful scene. They began to argue and this became most heated. It must be recalled that they had gone to the home in order to note down a statement that would be vital evidence for the court. Instead of proper official business, a war of vanity began. The Rector was having legal procedure explained to him by the clerk, and his pride was affronted.