The Walsoken Murder and the Botched Execution of Robert Goodale
The Goodales of Walsoken Farm
In 1885, 45-year-old Robert Goodale was a farmer and market gardener in Walsoken, with a smallholding of around seven acres. He grew fruit and vegetables for sale at market and kept a few cattle, with the help of his wife, 49-year-old Bathsheba, and their two sons, 19-year-old Robert Junior, and 16-year-old Frank. Robert Senior came from a long line of farmers, while Bathsheba was the daughter of a metalworker.
Bathsheba was relatively well-off and had taught music to upper class families. She owned more than one property in the nearby town of Wisbech. In addition to the house where she lived with her husband and children, she owned another occupied by Sarah Ann Goodale, the widow of Robert’s late brother, as well as a small cottage beside their farmland. This cottage was too remote for comfortable living and was used to store fruit and vegetables. Each day, the family walked three miles from Wisbech to their plot of land in Walsoken, where they spent the day farming before returning home around 6 p.m.
Robert and Bathsheba argued frequently, with Bathsheba complaining about her husband’s drinking, and Robert about his wife’s poor cooking. Over the past six months, these disputes had become more common. After taking the cows to the grazing land every afternoon, Robert would drink beer and cider, then start another quarrel with his wife. Once, he was heard threatening her in a drunken rage, saying, ‘I’ll knock you down.’ Bathsheba would often retreat to Sarah Ann’s house in tears and was sometimes so frightened by her husband’s moods that she spent the night with a neighbour.
On one occasion, young farm boy George Gage saw Robert chasing Bathsheba with a sharp, curved hedge cutting tool, shouting, ‘I’ll chop you down if you don’t come back!’ Bathsheba took refuge in the nearest cottage, which belonged to the Kierman family, but Robert followed and hammered at the door. When Mrs Harriet Kierman answered, Robert claimed he did not want to hurt his wife but only wanted her to come home. Mrs Kierman told Bathsheba that her husband was waiting for her outside, but Bathsheba replied fearfully, ‘I will not go, he will kill me.’
Bathsheba Goes Missing
On Tuesday 15 September 1885, the family worked their land as usual, harvesting fruit and potatoes, but that evening, only Robert returned home. Bathsheba was nowhere to be seen. When their sons enquired as to their mother’s whereabouts, Robert said he had left her at the farm. When she did not return, the boys began asking neighbours if they had seen her, before going back to Walsoken to search their land. Their father did not join them, resting at home in his chair and showing no apparent concern.
A pub owner named Goulder Gray, who lived just a few yards from the Goodales’ home in Wisbech, heard that Bathsheba was missing and went to see Robert at around seven o’clock that evening. He asked, ‘There is something said about your wife being absent. Do you know anything about her? She has not returned from the field.’ Goodale replied quietly that he did not know where she was. When Robert Junior and Frank returned home without their mother, Gray challenged him, saying, ‘It’s very strange that you should sit here in this unconcerned way. Why don’t you go and search for her?’ Robert insisted, ‘She has often left me, she’ll turn up alright.’ Knowing about the couple’s explosive arguments, Gray asked directly whether he had had any harsh words with his wife that day, which Goodale denied. Gray finally left at around 10:30 p.m. but there was still no sign of Bathsheba.
At about six o’clock the next morning, Robert wandered into Goulder Gray’s pub, unshaven and still wearing the previous day’s clothes. When Gray again remarked on his lack of concern for his wife, Robert got up and left without a word. Some time later, Robert met a friend, labourer Joe Barnes. Barnes noticed that he looked pale. Goodale said wearily, ‘I’ve done the bloody job at last.’ When Joe asked what he meant, Goodale replied, ‘I’ve settled her. She won’t bark at me anymore.’ Barnes had not heard that Bathsheba was missing and assumed Goodale was referring to putting down a dog.
Discovery in the Well
By now, everyone except Bathsheba’s husband was frantic. Her sons resumed their search with the help of neighbour William Tooke. Soon, they heard a puzzling account from the farm boy, George Gage. Gage told them that the previous evening, he had gone to the well to draw water for the horses. The lid was on as usual, but he noticed that the chain was missing. When he peered inside, the normally clear water looked black and tainted. The well was about 20ft deep, with around 3ft of water at the bottom. Lifting the lid, Tooke noticed women’s clothing floating on the water. He fetched a pole and disturbed the surface, revealing the body of a woman.
The police were sent for and Sergeant James Roughton of the Wisbech Borough arrived at the scene with local men John Freeman and William Kierman. Nearby, they noticed a wet ladder with a bloodstained handprint at the top. Freeman, who was the smallest of the group, used the ladder to climb down into the well and lift the body out. It was Bathsheba Goodale. Her clothing was torn, she wore only one glove, and she had suffered severe wounds to her head. Police deduced the ladder had been used to push the body down until it was fully submerged at the bottom of the well. The well was drained and Bathsheba’s straw hat, missing glove, and scraps of torn clothing were retrieved.
Robert Goodale Arrested
The police soon heard from locals about Robert Goodale’s strange, emotionless reaction to his wife’s disappearance and the discovery of her body. Sergeant Roughton noticed spots of blood on Goodale’s hat, boots, waistcoat, and trousers. When asked how they had got there, Goodale claimed to have had a nosebleed. When he was placed under arrest on suspicion of murder, he asked where Bathsheba had been found and requested to be taken to see her. Roughton agreed, and took him to the well, which by then had attracted a curious crowd of onlookers.
Trial at the Norfolk Assizes
Two months later, on Friday 13 November 1885, Robert Goodale stood trial at the Norfolk County Assizes, with Sir James Fitzjames Stephen presiding. Horace Brown led for the defence, and Mr Blofield for the prosecution. Though Robert had been a sturdily built man, around 5’11 and weighing 15 stone, his muscles honed by years of farming and described by some as a true ‘son of the soil’, the two months he had spent in prison had left him pale and unwell. The court heard a collection of circumstantial but compelling evidence.
Medical evidence was given by surgeon William Groom, who explained that there were three wounds to the victim’s head, consistent with a billhook, a heavy-bladed agricultural tool. However, none of these wounds were fatal. After being rendered unconscious, Bathsheba had been thrown into the well, where she died by drowning.
On the day of the murder, witness Bob Peck had been walking along the riverbank between three and four in the afternoon when he heard a man and woman arguing. Passing the same spot about 20 minutes later, he saw Robert and Bathsheba standing close together. Robert then walked away and sat on the riverbank, while Bathsheba remained where she was. Peck called out, ‘Nice day!’ and Robert replied, with a trace of sarcasm, ‘Yes, it is.’
At 4 p.m., nine-year-old Frank Kierman, the son of the Goodales’ nearest neighbour, passed along the embankment and saw Robert lying down. Bathsheba was sitting beside him and offered the boy some pears. Frank replied that his father was expecting him home so he could not stop. He would be the last person, apart from her killer, to see Bathsheba Goodale alive.
Later, Robert was seen by another witness, Sam Hunt, about 100 yards from his home. Hunt noticed his trousers were soaked up to the knees and he had mud on his sleeves. He was wiping his boots on the grass. Hunt called out, ‘Hello Robert, have you been in the river?’ Goodale replied cryptically, neither confirming or denying, ‘I should like to go. Wouldn’t you?’ Hunt went on his way, thinking little of the conversation until after the body was found.
A carter named Tom Spraggins was driving towards Wisbech at around 5 p.m. when he was hailed by Goodale, who asked for a lift. Spraggins also noticed his wet clothing and politely enquired how the fruit harvesting was going. Goodale replied gloomily, ‘I think I have pulled all the fruit I shall ever pull,’ adding quickly, ‘except an odd basket or two for the house.’ Spraggins stopped on route to make a delivery to a man named James Walker, who also noticed the passenger’s wet trousers and asked if he had been fishing. Goodale replied, ‘I have only been washing myself in the river.’
Dr Thomas Stevenson gave evidence about the bloodstains seen on Goodale’s clothing, noting that there had been rust and paint stains on the trousers, which could have been mistaken for blood. However, he observed that the bottoms of the trousers had been stiffened by washing, suggesting that Goodale had tried to remove the evidence in the river.
Labourer Joe Barnes also gave testimony about the conversation he’d had with Goodale the morning after the murder, in which Goodale allegedly said, ‘I’ve done the bloody job at last.’ The defence tried to discredit Barnes, pointing out that he was an ex-convict and may have made the statement in order to gain favour with the police.
Robert Goodale appeared indifferent throughout the trial. The only moment he became animated was when Bathsheba’s straw hat was produced. A police officer demonstrated how the cuts in it corresponded with the injuries to the victim’s head, at which point Goodale leaned forward and examined the hat closely, before sinking back into his chair.
The Verdict
On Saturday 14 November, the jury took just 15 minutes to return a guilty verdict. When asked if he had anything to say, Goodale moved his lips as if attempting to speak, but no sound came out. As Justice Stephen pronounced the death sentence, Goodale gripped the rail of the dock but said nothing. The execution was set for just over two weeks later, on Monday 30 November.
While awaiting his fate, Goodale behaved well in prison and was visited by his sister and two sons for the final time on Friday 27 November. That evening, he asked to speak to the prison governor and confessed that he had struck his wife after she told him she preferred other men. He said he had hit her but maintained that she had fallen into the well and that he had not pushed her deliberately. He claimed that the ladder had not been used to push her down, but in an attempt to rescue her. Although the medical evidence and witness testimony didn’t support his account, the governor sent his statement to the Home Secretary, but no reprieve was granted.
Executioner James Berry
Hangman James Berry was appointed to carry out the sentence. Berry was from Yorkshire and had a varied career, having worked as a shoe salesman, a railway porter, and a police constable, before becoming an executioner. He charged £10 for each execution, equivalent to around £1,500 today.
If James Berry was a little anxious about the upcoming hanging, it was understandable. Earlier that year, on 23 February, Berry had been involved in the farcical attempted execution of John Lee for the murder of Emma Keyse in Babbacombe, Devon. A misaligned hinge or warped wood under the gallows platform had jammed the trap, after the scaffold had been moved and reassembled, causing it to fail to open three times. John Lee was reprieved due to the traumatic ordeal and became known as ‘The Man They Could Not Hang’. Just a few months later, Berry hanged Moses Shrimpton, a 65-year-old poacher who had killed a police officer. Although death appeared to have been instantaneous, the sight revealed when the hood was lifted was a disturbing one – Shrimpton’s throat had been torn apart, the windpipe exposed and blood flowing freely. Berry insisted he had calculated the drop correctly but later admitted he had misjudged how the man’s advancing age affected the condition of the flesh on his neck.
The Botched Hanging at Norwich Castle
Berry’s next few executions went smoothly. But the case of Robert Goodale would survive in the annals of crime as one of the most infamous botched hangings in the country.
Berry had originally supplied his own ropes, but by this time the government issued standardised ropes to ensure consistency, and to prevent the sale of used ropes as gruesome relics. According to historian Neil Storey, Goodale was the second largest man that Berry had executed, requiring a drop of 7 feet 8 inches. However, when Berry peered through the Judas Hole to discreetly observe Goodale in his cell, he judged that although he had a large frame, he had been physically weakened by his time in custody, and his neck was not muscular. As a result, according to his own later testimony, Berry departed from the standard calculation and reduced the drop to 5 feet 9 ½ inches. Following recent reports of botched hangings, the governor was uneasy and ordered repeat tests of the scaffold in the days before the execution, carried out under the supervision of the prison engineer.
At Norwich Castle on the morning of Monday 30 November, Berry conducted his final test of the gallows. The Under-Sheriff, J.B.T. Hales, the Gaol surgeon, Mr Haynes S. Robinson, Prison Governor Dent, and several members of the local press gathered in anticipation. Goodale had slept soundly overnight, ate an early breakfast, and received a visit from Reverend Wheeler in his final hours.
While many condemned men are reported to go to the gallows with quietude and resignation, Berry later recalled that Goodale screamed and cried as he was pinioned, struggling against the straps placed around his body. He refused to walk towards the gallows and had to be dragged along, a display which deeply unnerved the officials and the hangman himself. In his final seconds, Goodale repeatedly wept, ‘Oh God, receive my soul.’ His legs buckled as he stood on the trap, and two warders had to hold him upright while Berry completed the final preparations, placing the final pinion around his legs, the white hood over his head, and the noose around his neck. Goodale refused the offer of any final words, and at exactly 8 a.m., Berry pulled the lever. In the moments that followed, the executioner’s worst fears were realised. Another disaster had occurred, more ghastly than those that had gone before.
When the onlookers saw the rope jerk upwards, they thought at first that the noose had somehow slipped from the prisoner’s head or that the rope had broken. But when Berry, accompanied by the governor and the gaol surgeon, descended into the pit below, they saw that the prisoner’s head had been entirely severed from the body. Berry later wrote in his memoirs, ‘Death was instantaneous so the poor fellow had not suffered in any way, but it was terrible to think such a revolting thing should have occurred. We were all unnerved and shocked. The governor, whose efforts to prevent any accident had kept his nerves at full strain, fairly broke down and wept.’
An inquest was held on the body of Robert Goodale, as was required in all cases of judicial hanging. The witnesses all attested to Berry’s thoroughness, and the jury concluded that no one, including the hangman, was to blame for the decapitation.
Reporter and author Charles Mackie of the Norfolk Chronicle was present at the execution and later reflected that he’d had the dubious honour of attending what was effectively ‘the last judicial beheading in England’.
Aftermath
Despite being cleared of any blame, Berry was haunted by the incident for the remainder of his career. He retired in 1892 and turned to religion, becoming a preacher and eventually campaigning against the death penalty.
Today, Walsoken remains a semi-rural village though it is now considered an extension of Wisbech. More residential housing has been built, though the medieval All Saints Church remains a historical focal point. While one might assume that the murder of Bathsheba Goodale was the only such case in the small, bucolic community, there was in fact an incident that took place a century earlier in 1788. A 17-year-old apprentice farrier named Henry Sell was executed for the murder of his master’s wife, Elizabeth Clark, after poisoning her tea with arsenic. He had also attempted to poison his master William Clark, who survived. Perhaps, after all, Sherlock Holmes’ remarks about the frequency of violence in the countryside were not entirely misplaced, though such crimes still feel more striking when committed in an apparently peaceful landscape.
Researched and written by Prash Ganendran. Published on 3 June 2026.
© 2026 Prash Ganendran. All Rights Reserved.
Video Documentary Version of this Case
Related Cases
Another crime which took place in Tittleshall, Norfolk, is The Murder of German Watchmaker Lorenz Beha, a case dating from 1853.
If you’d like to read about another Victorian murder case involving executioner James Berry and a botched hanging, you may also enjoy my article, The Man They Could Not Hang: John Babbacombe Lee.
Sources
Ancestry.co.uk
Census Records (1851, 1861, 1871, 1881)
Lincolnshire Free Press, Tuesday 22 September 1885
Lynn News & County Press, Saturday 26 September 1885
Eastern Evening News – Saturday 14 November 1885
Eastern Evening News, Saturday 28 November 1885
Norfolk News, Saturday 5 December 1885
Norfolk Chronicle, Saturday 10 November 1888
The A-Z of Curious Norfolk, Sarah Doig
Norfolk Murders, Neil R. Storey
Trove, National Library of Australia, newspaper article: https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/111013766