Bill Tom Hatfield was, however, later in the year, again taken and finally convicted for his participation in the murder of the three McCoy brothers.
After the return of the prisoners from Louisville to Pike County a number of the parties were put on trial. Ellison Mounts was sentenced to hang for participation in the murder of Allifair McCoy during that infamous night attack, while Johns Hatfield, Valentine (Val) Hatfield, the “Justice of the Peace of West Virginia,” Plyant Mayhorn, and others, were convicted to the State penitentiary at Frankfort, Kentucky, for life.
Val Hatfield set up the remarkable defense that the brothers were killed on the Kentucky side, and that at the time of the shooting he was on the West Virginia side. This was the gist of his appeal to the Court of Appeals of Kentucky. This Court, however, in a very pithy opinion, among other things said, confirming the judgment of the lower court:—
It is not pretended here that the State could enforce its laws beyond the State boundary, but it is well settled that if either of the appellants had stood on the West Virginia side and shot the deceased in Kentucky, the offense would have been against the laws of Kentucky. (I Bishop on Criminal Law, III.) Regarding the appellants Mayhorn the Court expressed itself in emphatic language, when it said:
“The law has been enforced in this case, and in its administration the appellants (defendants in the lower court) can truly say to the jury that in inflicting punishment by imprisonment for life ‘it has tempered justice with mercy.’”
The Kentucky Appellate Court affirmed each and every one of the cases appealed.
Ellison Mounts, sentenced to die on the gallows for shooting and killing Allifair McCoy, appealed on the ground that he pleaded guilty to the charge, and having done so he was entitled to a sentence of confinement in the State prison instead of hanging. It was claimed for him that the State, in introducing the wife of Randolph McCoy, so brutally beaten that night of January 1st, 1888, had taken unfair (?) advantage of his condition and that, therefore, the case should be reversed. As in the other cases, the Court of Appeals refused to disturb the judgment of the lower court, maintaining that all the authorities agreed that unless a tacit agreement between the State and defendant had been entered into to reduce the punishment, the State had a right even under the plea of guilty to introduce testimony illustrating the atrocity of the crime.
On February 19th, 1890, Ellison Mounts was hanged. For some time previous to the day of execution the sheriff had on duty a guard of from fifty to seventy-five men, armed to the teeth, and in addition had appointed and sworn an additional force of some twenty deputy sheriffs for the special occasion. Repeated reports had come to Sheriff Mayward that the Hatfields of West Virginia would attempt a rescue. In view of what had transpired in the past, the precaution of the Kentucky sheriff was entirely warranted.
On the day of the execution the largest crowd ever brought together in Kentucky on a similar occasion assembled at the little country town of Pikeville, careful and conservative estimates judging the number to have been nearly eight thousand. They came from all directions, on horseback, on foot, in wagons drawn by oxen. They came long before daybreak and from that time on until the time of the execution, after noon, the stream of visitors poured into the town. Little children even were brought along by mothers who had come to see the hanging with an eagerness with which they would have attended a circus. Is it not strange how morbidly curious most of us are? How we jostle each other so as not to lose a glimpse of misery or death? Not strange, after all—the savage of the stone age is not yet eradicated from our natures.
While the crowd collected, an incident marred the generally peaceable behavior of the mass of people. Frank Phillips was “in his cups.” With a revolver in each hand he walked the streets of the town, announcing that he had run the Hatfields down and that now he proposed to run the town of Pikeville. Sheriff Mayward remonstrated with Phillips, who showed fight. A number of deputy sheriffs soon disarmed him and the trouble passed without serious casualty. In the scuffle the sheriff had been severely injured. As soon as he recovered from the shock he called the guards and from that time on matters progressed without any other interruption.
At that time executions were public, not behind walls or enclosures as now. A mile and a half from the town, in a natural amphitheatre, the old-fashioned gallows had been erected. The hills overlooking the scene were black with people. A few minutes past twelve the sheriff repaired to the jail and read the death warrant. Keen-eyed guards scanned the people around to detect any possible attempt at rescue. None was made. The condemned criminal listened to the reading of the warrant with the same stoicism that had marked the commission of his crimes. He claimed conversion, and hoped that “all men and women would lead good lives and to meet him in heaven, where he was going.”