Alice Mitchell

In Memphis, Tennessee in 1892, Alice Mitchell became engaged to Freda Ward, also known as Fred. When Fred broke off their engagement, Alice followed Fred, catching up with her just before Fred boarded a steamboat. Alice grabbed the back of Fred’s hair, pulled her head back and cut her several times with a razor, once across her throat from ear to ear, almost severing her head. Arrested that evening for Fred’s murder, Alice expressed no remorse or understanding that she had committed a criminal act. Alice had told Fred that if she didn’t marry her, Alice would kill her.

ALICE
Do you have a copy of today’s newspaper?
Don't wipe the blood off my face:
it's Fred's blood,
and I love her so.
I cut Fred.
Don't excite my Mother about it.
I cut Fred because I love her and Fred wouldn't speak to me.
I more than loved Fred,
there's no word to describe what I feel.
I had intended to follow Fred onto the boat and kill her.
I don't know why I couldn't wait,
why I had to cut her on the dock.
Do you have yesterday’s newspaper?
I’m fine with the blood on my face.
I took her life because I had told Fred I would.
It was my duty to do it.
The best thing to have happened was to have married Fred,
the next best thing to kill her.
That would make sure no one would get her instead of me,
where is today’s paper, I’m sure there’s a picture of Fred in it,
and it would keep my word.
I had to keep my word.
It's every moral person's duty to keep their word.
Fred swore several times that she would be my bride,
no matter what her family thought,
no matter what men they paraded before her to marry.
Fred wore the ring I gave her and swore to me.
She went back on her promise.
I never go back on my promises: that makes me a better person than Fred.
But there is no one who has loved anyone more than I love Fred.
I more than loved Fred.
I wish to see Fred now,
take me to the body and let me lie down beside her.
Or give me today’s newspaper.
Don't wipe the blood off my face:
it's Fred's blood,
and I love her so.
I love her so,
I have every picture of her ever printed,
even her name, I cut out her name when I see it in print,
I have handfuls of Fred,
see, when I squeeze my hands,
Fred oozes between them.
That’s what I fantasized about so often in life.
Having such copious amounts of Fred,
she squeezed between my fingers
drip all over me,
drip on my face.
We were to elope to St. Louis.
I would have dressed as a man and worked as a man,
even grown a mustache if it pleased her.
What would we have done there?
After all that,
what do women do?


Alice Mitchell was declared by a court insane, the cause attributed to traits inherited from her mother, who had a history of mental derangement.