1863: The Hangman Was His Old Mate From Tasmania: James Murphy Hanged at Geelong for Killing a Warrnambool Constable

James Murphy was awaiting trial for horse theft in the Warrnambool jail when Constable Daniel O'Boyle walked him across to the courthouse on 4 August 1863 to light the morning fires. As O'Boyle knelt at the grate, Murphy came up from behind and beat him down with a mason's hammer, then calmly shut the door on his dying victim and walked off as if nothing had happened.

He was run down two days later at a dairy station on the Hopkins River, where he told his captors he had not meant to kill the constable, insisting he had "only struck him once"; he blamed the attack on how "brutally treated" he said he had been in the watchhouse.

At trial his defence argued that, taken from the jail without a fresh warrant, Murphy had been held unlawfully and any killing committed while escaping could be no more than manslaughter; the jury rejected it and convicted him of murder. He was hanged at Geelong on this day in 1863, with the hangman specially sent from Melbourne turning out to be an old friend of Murphy's from their years together in Tasmania; recognising him, the executioner wept before composing himself and carrying out the sentence.

Murphy made no address on the scaffold and offered no formal confession, though at trial he had all but admitted killing O'Boyle, claiming only that it followed a struggle rather than a cold attack.

James Murphy: Public Record Office Victoria, Central Register of Male Prisoners, VPRS 515/P0000, Prisoner Nos. 34624–35049
James Murphy: Public Record Office Victoria, Central Register of Male Prisoners, VPRS 515/P0000, Prisoner Nos. 34624–35049

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1865: The Peacemaker Was the One Who Died: Patrick Sheehan Hanged at Beechworth for the Murder of Publican James Kennedy

In the bar of the National Hotel at Rowdy Flat, near Yackandandah, a drunken brawl broke out between Patrick Sheehan and another miner, Neville. James Kennedy, the publican, stepped out from behind his bar only to keep the peace; he was not part of the fight and had given Sheehan no provocation beyond refusing him more drink on credit. When the scuffle briefly quietened, Sheehan slipped away, and a bystander, seeing him go, called out a warning that chilled the room: "Sheehan is gone for something." Kennedy locked the door, but when Sheehan came back demanding to be let in, he opened it rather than provoke him further, and was met with a knife driven into his side.

Kennedy died the next day. Sheehan was tried and convicted of wilful murder, then hanged within Beechworth Gaol on this day in 1865, one of the first executions carried out there rather than the usual practice of hauling the condemned nearly 200 miles in an open wagon to a distant gaol.

He went to the gallows calm and resigned, asking only that his cap be lifted for a moment so he could say, "God bless you all, and God forgive me; that will do." He always maintained he remembered nothing of the killing, writing from his cell beforehand: "I do not remember anything of the dreadful occurrence of which I am found guilty."

The iron gates of Beechworth Gaol
The iron gates of Beechworth Gaol

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1867: The Gold Commissioner Who Drugged His Own Escort, Then Shot Them in Their Sleep

Thomas Griffin, Assistant Gold Commissioner on the Queensland goldfields, was entrusted with accompanying a shipment of money from Rockhampton alongside police troopers John Power and Patrick Cahill. The two troopers, childhood friends from Ireland who had joined the Queensland police together, had no reason to suspect that the official travelling with them intended to steal the money and kill them. Before departure, Power had noticed something suspicious about the escort bags and insisted Griffin reseal them, a precaution that would later help establish his guilt. Griffin had already interfered with the shipment, and the two policemen stood between him and the money. When the party camped beside the Mackenzie River, Griffin drugged the troopers' tea with a narcotic. Once they were asleep, he shot each man in the head in the early hours of 6 November 1867, then burned the parcel wrappings in the campfire to conceal evidence of the theft. When the bodies were discovered days later, Griffin told a startled bank manager, "they are shot, you will see if they are not." His suspicious behaviour eventually drew police attention. Investigators secretly dampened his revolver to prevent him from using it and placed him under arrest. Griffin denied the murders at trial but was convicted and sentenced to death. In the weeks before his execution, he attempted to bargain for his life by revealing where he had buried the stolen banknotes, admitting his involvement in the killings in the process.

The Clermont Gold Escort, 1867. Murder victims Cahill and Power (second and third from left), with their killer Griffin (right). Queensland Police Museum, PM0680a.
The Clermont Gold Escort, 1867. Murder victims Cahill and Power (second and third from left), with their killer Griffin (right). Queensland Police Museum, PM0680a.

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1895: "Poor Don, We Will Meet in Heaven": George Lynch Hanged in Adelaide for a Jealous Pursuit Murder

George Lynch and his young travelling companion Donald Ross had walked overland from Queensland to South Australia together, but by the winter of 1895 the mateship had curdled into obsession. Lynch chased Ross with a knife, wrote him letters promising there would be no mercy next time, and warned a bystander, "For two pins, I'd drill a hole through you."

On 24 August 1895, in rural South Australia north of Adelaide, Lynch ran Ross down beside a creek as the youth fled and shot him. Children watching from a nearby farmhouse saw Lynch fire a second shot as Ross fell, then kneel over the body, kiss his forehead and murmur, "Poor Don; we will meet in heaven."

His barrister argued provocation had reduced the killing to manslaughter, but a jury found Lynch guilty of wilful murder. He was hanged in Adelaide on this day in 1895, joking with the hangman over his skill with the rope and remarking, "What a lovely morning it is," as he mounted the scaffold.

Lynch left a written confession describing the killing as the result of a sudden fit of temper, adding, "If I had only thought for a moment, it would never have happened."

Sunset at Murder Creek
Sunset at Murder Creek

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