Maritime Murder by Steve Vernon Page A

at Georgetown. However, consideration of the prisoner’s sex, and her current mental state, and the jury’s recommendation for mercy, might materially modify her ultimate fate.”
    It was at this point that Minnie lashed out. “Hanged?” she shouted. “Hanged! Hanged, hanged, hang me here and now and be done with it!”
    Her wishes were never granted. A petition was brought forward by a group of concerned Prince Edward Island residents, asking that Minnie’s sentence, given her mental capacity, be commuted to life imprisonment.
    Minnie was briefly jailed in Kingston Penitentiary in Ontario. She was transferred to Dorchester Penitentiary in New Brunswick. Sixteen years later, following a gradual mental deterioration, she was transferred to the Falconwood Insane Asylum in Charlottetown, pei .
    In 193 4 , when Minnie’s father fell ill with a mental health condition, she was briefly discharged to see to his needs. Following his death a few years, later Minnie returned to the Falconwood Asylum.
    In 1953 , over forty years since she had willfully poisoned her children, Minnie McGee finally died, peacefully in her sleep.
    â€œShe’s in heaven now,” said the priest who was brought to her deathbed.
    â€œI wouldn’t bet on that,” the ward orderly was heard to reply.

a right rough bunch
    The Boutilier Brothers
Lunenburg, Nova Scotia
1791

    G eorge Frederick Eminaud grinned happily. It was good to have his godson and namesake, George Frederick Boutilier, as well as Boutilier’s elder brother, John Boutilier, over for an unexpected visit. After all, they had come all the way from their home in Tatamagouche to visit with Eminaud at his home in First Peninsula, just north of the town of Lunenburg.
    â€œWe left on March 7 ,” George Boutilier explained to Eminaud. “And then we travelled by snowshoe for a week to Margaret’s Bay.We were going to sail across in our brother David’s schooner, but the wind would not help us.”
    â€œSo,” John Boutilier continued, “after waiting two days, we would wait no longer. We borrowed a tuna flatboat and we rowed across. We would not wait another minute to see our good friend Eminaud.”
    Their visit was a good thing, in Eminaud’s opinion. He liked these boys and he also liked the fact that they seemed to like him just as much. It was March 18 , 1791 , and George Eminaud was a happy man. Their company had definitely raised his spirits.
    Eminaud lived with his wife and his daughter, Catherine, who was engaged to be married to George Boutilier. “There is a limit,” old Eminaud said, “to the amount of hen cackling my seventy-year-old ears can stand.”
    Unbeknownst to Eminaud, the two Boutilier brothers had travelled to Lunenburg for a completely different and darker purpose than to simply keep the old man company. They had overheard the rumour that Eminaud had recently received a sum of £ 200 —almost $ 40 , 000 in modern day equivalence—and they wanted that money for their very own.
    â€œYou must stay the night,” Eminaud said. “I will hear no argument from you. Come, let me fetch some fresh straw from the barn to soften your bed with.”
    Old Eminaud was still grinning happily as he gathered the straw. His grin turned to panic as he turned and received the first of many brutal blows.
    The two brothers had followed him quietly out to the barn. They each carried a good-sized chunk of discarded firewood. They clubbed the old man soundly. Then, as Eminaud fell to his knees, George Boutilier snatched a tomahawk from his belt and split the old man’s skull open.
    Alerted by the sounds of the fight, Mrs. Eminaud came running into the barn as her husband’s freshly spilled blood was still soaking into the strewn straw. She only had a chance to scream the once before the Boutilier brothers were upon her. John caught her and George used the tomahawk on her. By now,