had to have seen. Stutzman was frightened. “Look, he saw me unload hay . . . they are close enough to see me!” he said.
The letters were postmarked Canton, but that didn’tmean much. Even mail from Marshallville was sent to Canton to be processed.
“Eli said he had been talking to the sheriff’s department and they had just put him under protective custody. He was a witness in a drug case and the accused pushers were trying to force him to back down,” Ed Stoll recalled.
A few times Stutzman took Stoll into the barn and showed him things that had been moved or disturbed—proof that something was up. “The pushers did this,” Stutzman said. “I’m telling you, they’re out to get me.”
“You’re just spooked,” Stoll offered, trying to calm Stutzman. Deep down, the dairy farmer was also a bit worried.
November 19, 1974
Ed Stoll spent all day hauling corn from a barn to a storage building on the other side of the dairy. Stoll left Stutzman in the barn doing chores just after 5:00 P.M ., when he took the last load.
The final load took about an hour, instead of the usual half hour. Stoll returned at dusk and found that the barn had been ransacked—bags scattered, hay bales knocked askew, feed bags spilled, and, more horrifying, blood splashed everywhere. It looked as though a dozen chickens had been slaughtered by a blind man. Gruesome arcs of blood stained the walls.
Stoll found Stutzman at the end of the barn, lying in a puddle of blood and surrounded by bloodied rocks.
“What took you so long?” Stutzman muttered weakly, blood dripping from his arms. His blue eyes were glassy.
“What happened?” Stoll asked as he hurried to Stutzman’s side.
“Two guys jumped me and stabbed me. . . . I tried to fight them off. . . .”
In shock, Stoll ran to the house, cursing the Wayne County sheriff. Eli had as much as told them that this would happen.
“They are out to get me,”
he had said.
Abe was babysitting the Chupps’ little girl, Marie, when Stoll ran into the house to call the emergency squad andthe sheriff. By the time he made it back to the barn, Stutzman was on a stretcher. The color was drained from his face. Abe was sure that Stutzman was going to die.
For the second time in nine months, Sheriff Frost was on the scene, looking for evidence around Stoll Farms. Liz Chupp noted in her diary that Sheriff Frost had been out on January 29, investigating the theft of some hay bales from one of the neighboring farms.
Eli Stutzman was admitted to Dunlap Memorial Hospital, where he remained for five days.
By nightfall, a strange and frightening thing came to light. Before his attack, Stutzman said he had seen a strange car with out-of-state plates—West Virginia, he thought—driving up and down the road near the farm. Later, when he was in the barn, someone hiding in the hayloft threw a rock, hitting him in the head but not knocking him down. A second later, another man jumped from behind and cut him with a knife. Stutzman said that in the struggle he had stabbed one of his attackers with a pitchfork, but they had overpowered him.
Stutzman lost so much blood that he nearly died. Many said it was a miracle that Ed Stoll happened to be there to find him before it was too late.
The focus of the incident was immediately on the sheriff’s department and not on Stutzman, the poor victim of their botched investigation. Ed Stoll, for one, was incensed and let the sheriff know about it.
“This man was coming to you for help. He told you someone was after him. You were supposed to protect him. You let this happen.”
Rumors were confused and rampant. The story that emerged was that the sheriff’s department had told Stutzman to buy the marijuana and had assured him that they would not go after the Millers for at least a week. Instead, within a few hours of the drug deal, the sheriff’s department was at the Millers’ farm with a warrant.
“That’s how the Millers knew it was me,” Stutzman
The letters were postmarked Canton, but that didn’tmean much. Even mail from Marshallville was sent to Canton to be processed.
“Eli said he had been talking to the sheriff’s department and they had just put him under protective custody. He was a witness in a drug case and the accused pushers were trying to force him to back down,” Ed Stoll recalled.
A few times Stutzman took Stoll into the barn and showed him things that had been moved or disturbed—proof that something was up. “The pushers did this,” Stutzman said. “I’m telling you, they’re out to get me.”
“You’re just spooked,” Stoll offered, trying to calm Stutzman. Deep down, the dairy farmer was also a bit worried.
November 19, 1974
Ed Stoll spent all day hauling corn from a barn to a storage building on the other side of the dairy. Stoll left Stutzman in the barn doing chores just after 5:00 P.M ., when he took the last load.
The final load took about an hour, instead of the usual half hour. Stoll returned at dusk and found that the barn had been ransacked—bags scattered, hay bales knocked askew, feed bags spilled, and, more horrifying, blood splashed everywhere. It looked as though a dozen chickens had been slaughtered by a blind man. Gruesome arcs of blood stained the walls.
Stoll found Stutzman at the end of the barn, lying in a puddle of blood and surrounded by bloodied rocks.
“What took you so long?” Stutzman muttered weakly, blood dripping from his arms. His blue eyes were glassy.
“What happened?” Stoll asked as he hurried to Stutzman’s side.
“Two guys jumped me and stabbed me. . . . I tried to fight them off. . . .”
In shock, Stoll ran to the house, cursing the Wayne County sheriff. Eli had as much as told them that this would happen.
“They are out to get me,”
he had said.
Abe was babysitting the Chupps’ little girl, Marie, when Stoll ran into the house to call the emergency squad andthe sheriff. By the time he made it back to the barn, Stutzman was on a stretcher. The color was drained from his face. Abe was sure that Stutzman was going to die.
For the second time in nine months, Sheriff Frost was on the scene, looking for evidence around Stoll Farms. Liz Chupp noted in her diary that Sheriff Frost had been out on January 29, investigating the theft of some hay bales from one of the neighboring farms.
Eli Stutzman was admitted to Dunlap Memorial Hospital, where he remained for five days.
By nightfall, a strange and frightening thing came to light. Before his attack, Stutzman said he had seen a strange car with out-of-state plates—West Virginia, he thought—driving up and down the road near the farm. Later, when he was in the barn, someone hiding in the hayloft threw a rock, hitting him in the head but not knocking him down. A second later, another man jumped from behind and cut him with a knife. Stutzman said that in the struggle he had stabbed one of his attackers with a pitchfork, but they had overpowered him.
Stutzman lost so much blood that he nearly died. Many said it was a miracle that Ed Stoll happened to be there to find him before it was too late.
The focus of the incident was immediately on the sheriff’s department and not on Stutzman, the poor victim of their botched investigation. Ed Stoll, for one, was incensed and let the sheriff know about it.
“This man was coming to you for help. He told you someone was after him. You were supposed to protect him. You let this happen.”
Rumors were confused and rampant. The story that emerged was that the sheriff’s department had told Stutzman to buy the marijuana and had assured him that they would not go after the Millers for at least a week. Instead, within a few hours of the drug deal, the sheriff’s department was at the Millers’ farm with a warrant.
“That’s how the Millers knew it was me,” Stutzman
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