The Villisca Murders: The Horrific Story of a House with Eight Dead Bodies and a Crazy Pastor

Villisca is a small town in Iowa that may be in its final decades. Its population has halved over the past century, and people continue to leave. Jobs are scarce, and tourists have little to do in Villisca. There's only one attraction, and it's a rather peculiar one. Those looking for a thrill are offered a night's stay at 508 East Second Street. It's famous for the murder of eight people there in 1912: six children and two adults. This "pleasure" costs $400, and, surprisingly, there are plenty of takers. But how did Villisca's singular, sinister landmark come to be?

On June 9, 1912, the Moore family—merchant Josiah, his wife Sarah, and their four children—attended an event at the Presbyterian Church. Villisca was celebrating Children's Day. The event held special significance for the Moores: Sarah, who was actively involved in charity work, organized a small celebration with refreshments, performances, and dancing.

Everything was very decorous: the children sang psalms and performed scenes from the Holy Scriptures. The highlight of the program was a speech by a distinguished guest, Anglican pastor George Kelly. The holy father had arrived in the American heartland from Great Britain, and such figures rarely visit Villisca.

Pastor Kelly delivered his fiery sermon, listened to many warm words, and with that, the celebration ended. Everyone went home. Two girls, friends of their 10-year-old daughter, Mary, accompanied the Moore family to their home at 508 East Second Street. The parents allowed them to spend the night, as had happened many times before. Around 10:00 PM, the group returned home and, apparently, soon went to bed.

The next day, at 7 a.m., their neighbor, Mary Packham, knocked on the Moores' door. She knew Josiah and Sarah were early risers, so she wasn't surprised when no one answered. She thought perhaps the family had already gone out on some errand. Just in case, Mary fed the neighbors' chickens and ducks and headed home.

On the way, she met Josiah's brother, Ross, and, incidentally, mentioned that the Moores had already departed somewhere that morning. The man was surprised, as he hadn't heard his brother mention any urgent plans for the morning. He also knocked on the door and, waiting for no answer, opened the lock with his key. Mary remained outside. A minute later, she heard Ross's inhuman scream from the house.

The man ran out onto the porch in terror, his eyes bulging and his face ashen. He told Mary to run home and call Sheriff Henry Horton immediately. He was the only official in Villisca, where there had never even been a drunken brawl. Horton arrived a few minutes later. He was an elderly, stern man who had seen a lot in his life. But he, too, stayed in the Moores' house for no more than a minute.

Rushing outside, he immediately headed to his office to call police from the neighboring town of Red Oak. Detectives arrived and counted eight bodies in the house. Two adult Moores, four of their children, and two strangers had been killed with axe blows. The murder weapon, completely covered in blood, was also found in the house. The killer had carefully placed it against the wall in the living room.

All the victims were lying in their beds—evidently, death had overtaken them in their sleep. Only Mary Moore's 12-year-old friend, Lina, was lying across the bed. In addition to the head wound, she had an axe wound on her hand. Apparently, she had woken up and attempted to defend herself. The killer had struck his victims on the head with the butt of an axe. Only the father, Josiah, had been struck with a blade.

Detectives determined that the killer struck each person in the house once. He then moved from room to room, striking the dead bodies again and again. He spared the two girls, who were not members of the Moore family. The father suffered the most—his head was hacked beyond recognition.

Detectives found no evidence at the crime scene. Only two suspicious cigarette butts lay in the attic. Most likely, the killer had snuck into the attic beforehand and whiled away the time smoking until everyone in the house fell asleep. The police were unable to determine how the perpetrator had left the house. The door was locked from the inside, and there were no footprints under the windows. Detectives theorized that the murders were committed between 1:00 AM and 5:00 AM.

The only suspect was named that same day. He turned out to be the only stranger in town at the time—Pastor George Kelly. When they decided to question him, it turned out that the clergyman had left town at 5 a.m. on June 10, a couple of hours before the bodies were discovered. A search for the fugitive began immediately, and police began interviewing local residents and inquiring about Kelly.

Almost all the townspeople admitted that the pastor seemed strange to them. He behaved unusually, and his sermon was unlike any they had ever heard. But no one believed he was capable of murder. Information about the pastor's past also came to light. It turned out to be quite unusual for his rank.

Firstly, George Kelly had mental health issues since childhood. He suffered a nervous breakdown, after which he spent a long time in various clinics and taking medication. As an adult, Kelly developed a morbid interest in nudity. The pastor was fond of peeping at women and once found himself at the center of a scandal. He was accused of soliciting "provocative" photos from female parishioners.

All of this prompted the Anglican pastor to leave Foggy Albion and become an itinerant preacher far across the ocean. This intriguing information further convinced investigators that Kelly was the killer. Furthermore, the pastor behaved erratically even while on the run.

He began sending letters from various locations across the United States to Sheriff Horton and several Villisca residents. In them, Kelly inquired about the progress of the investigation and shared his suspicions. It was only two years later, in 1914, that Kelly was arrested in Washington. Initially, he was arrested on an entirely different charge.

The pastor was accused of emailing... obscene photos of himself. In other words, Kelly was sending dick pics before they were even considered mainstream. While police were investigating the pornography case, a woman filed a rape complaint. The victim fell victim to the lecherous priest when she applied for a job as his secretary.

Unexpectedly, the pastor was lucky and escaped imprisonment. At the trial, the jury refused to believe that a cleric was capable of such heinous crimes. Nevertheless, the judges refused to release the pastor, and he was sent to a psychiatric hospital. He remained there for three years.

In the psych ward, Kelly, out of boredom, began writing letters to Villisca again. In them, he hinted that he knew some details of the murder and even that he might have witnessed it. Finally, the insane pastor was summoned for questioning in the Moore case. The priest unexpectedly confessed to the murder committed five years earlier. And the jury acquitted him again! The pastor didn't look like a murderer, especially since everyone knew he was insane and could incriminate himself.

The story ended with Pastor George Kelly not only acquitted but also discharged from the psychiatric hospital. He went on to wander the United States. No one ever heard from him again, and the fate of the priest who may have been a murderer remains unknown.

But if the pastor was indeed the killer, what were his motives? Was he driven solely by madness? The townspeople present at the sermon noted that the Moore children were misbehaving during the sermon. This displeased the preacher. Furthermore, the father, Josiah, was arrogant and clearly didn't appreciate Kelly's eloquence. This likely prompted the madman's fevered mind to devise a plan for retribution.

As for the Moore family home, it stood empty for almost the entire 20th century. It had a bad reputation among locals, and no one even approached it unless necessary. In 1994, the completely dilapidated structure was purchased by enthusiasts Darwin and Martha Lynn. The couple renovated the house and its furnishings, returning it to the appearance it had in 1912.

Thus, the house at 508 East Second Street became the only attraction in dull Villisca. During the day, it can be visited as a museum, and at night, those who wish can sleep there for just $400. It's not as if there's a glut of people willing to stay. Nevertheless, the Moores' house does have its share of guests. These are usually various mediums and paranormal investigators. Thrill-seekers also rent the house.

In 2016, the horror film "The Villisca Massacre" was released. In the film, Pastor Kelly is portrayed as the killer, though he is possessed by a demon. Following the film's release, the house-museum's popularity increased significantly. Along with psychics and thrill-seekers, curious people who learned about the place from the film also joined the crowd.

The history of the Moore House is still shrouded in mystery and dark conjecture. Some consider it a tourist attraction, others a place marked by tragedy. What do you think: should such tragic places be turned into tourist attractions, or is the past better left alone?