A Family Celebrated Together — Then They Noticed the Slave Woman’s Glove

Hinzugefügt: 2026-05-11

[00:00:00]Welcome to this journey through one of the most disturbing cases recorded in the history of Augusta, Georgia. Before we begin, I invite you to leave in the comments where you're watching from and the exact time you're listening to this narration. We're interested in knowing what places and what times of day or night these documented stories reach.

[00:00:22]The case of the Dupri family celebration in 1849 remains one of the most perplexing chapters in Augusta's history. The events took place at the Dupri estate situated approximately 3 miles from the Savannah River in what was then considered the prosperous outskirts of Augusta. In the summer of that year, something occurred that would remain buried in family journals, newspaper clippings, and courthouse records for over a century. What began as a gathering to celebrate a marriage engagement ended with a series of disappearances that authorities at the time chose to overlook, attributing them to what they called typical slave flight. But the discovery of a woman's glove preserved in the attic of the old Dupri home during renovations in 1962 would challenge this convenient explanation.

[00:01:17]If you're enjoying the story and feel like helping the channel with any amount, please support us by clicking the thanks button and donating whatever you wish. This really helps the channel keep posting new stories. The Dupri family was among Augusta's elite. Thomas Dupri had amassed considerable wealth through cotton trade and was known throughout Georgia as a businessman of impeccable reputation. his wife Elizabeth maintained a household that was the envy of Augusta society. They had three children, James the eldest at 26 years, Catherine 22 years, and young William who had just turned 19. The family owned approximately 40 slaves who worked the plantation and maintained the household. According to parish records, the Dupri were regular attendees at St. Paul's Episcopal Church and contributed generously to local charities. To all outward appearances, they represented the quintessential southern aristocratic family. The summer of 1849 was particularly hot in Augusta. According to meteorological records preserved in the city archives, temperatures remained consistently above 90° from June through September, creating what one newspaper column described as an atmosphere of perpetual langanger that seemed to slow even the passage of time itself. It was against this backdrop of oppressive heat that the Dupri family prepared for what would be their last great celebration.

[00:02:53]According to surviving correspondence between Elizabeth Dri and her sister in Charleston, the occasion was the engagement of Katherine Dri to Harold Montgomery, the son of another prominent Augusta family. The engagement had been unofficially arranged for years, but the formal announcement was to take place at a garden party on July 15th, 1849.

[00:03:19]Elizabeth's letters, now preserved in the Georgia Historical Society collection, detail extensive preparations for the event, including the ordering of special fabrics from France and the hiring of additional household help. What makes this otherwise ordinary social occasion noteworthy, is a curious notation in Elizabeth's household ledger, discovered during the 1962 renovation. A simple entry dated July 14th reads, "Sarah transferred to kitchen duties." New arrangements made for household quarters. This seemingly innocuous administrative note would later prove to be a crucial piece of the puzzle. Sarah, according to plantation records, was a house slave approximately 24 years of age, who had been with the Dupri since she was 16. She was primarily assigned to Catherine's personal service and by all accounts was considered valuable property due to her literacy and domestic skills. Multiple entries in Catherine's personal diary also recovered during the renovation mentioned Sarah, though always in relation to household matters or Catherine's wardrobe. The celebration took place as planned on July 15th.

[00:04:38]According to a brief mention in the Augusta Chronicle dated July 17th, 1849, the garden engagement party at the Dupri estate was attended by the Flower of Augusta society with some guests traveling from as far as Savannah and Charleston to share in the joyous occasion. The article mentioned nothing unusual, suggesting the event proceeded without incident. It is in the week following the celebration that discrepancies begin to appear in the historical record. A letter from Thomas Dupri to his business associate in Savannah dated July 22nd mentions domestic disturbances requiring immediate attention and cancels a planned business trip. The exact nature of these disturbances is not specified, but the tone of the letter suggests urgency. More telling is an entry in the ledger of Dr. William Harrington, the Dupri family physician, dated July 19th.

[00:05:42]The entry states simply called to Dupri Plantation. Treatment administered to Miss Katherine for nervous exhaustion recommended bed rest and lord. No further details are provided, but subsequent entries show that Dr. Harrington returned to the plantation three more times in the following week.

[00:06:03]Parish records from Saint Pauls indicate that the Dupri family was absent from Sunday services for three consecutive weeks beginning July 22nd, an unprecedented occurrence according to the notations made by Reverend Thompson in his weekly attendance journal. When they did return to church in mid August, Reverend Thompson noted that Miss Catherine appears greatly altered in countenance and spirit. The most significant document from this period is a report filed with the Augusta Constabularary on July 23rd, 1849.

[00:06:41]In this report, Thomas Dupri claimed that three slaves, one housewoman and two field hands, have absconded from the property. The constable's notes indicate that no particular search was ordered.

[00:06:54]As such, flight was considered common enough, particularly in the summer months when work was most demanding.

[00:07:01]What is curious about this report is that it contradicts the DRI plantation records. According to the quarterly inventory taken on October 1st, 1849 and submitted to the county tax assessor, the plantation was missing not three but five slaves from its previous accounting. This discrepancy was never officially addressed. The engagement between Katherine Dri and Harold Montgomery was quietly dissolved in September of that same year. No public announcement was made, but correspondence between Elizabeth Dupri and her sister references Catherine's continued indisposition and the mutual decision to postpone any matrimonial plans indefinitely. Harold Montgomery married the daughter of a Savannah shipping merchant the following year.

[00:07:53]Katherine Dri never married. She remained in her parents' household until their deaths in 1861 and 1863, respectively. Upon inheriting the estate, she sold the plantation and moved to a smaller residence in Augusta proper, where she lived in relative seclusion until her death in 1892.

[00:08:16]The story might have ended there, another footnote in Augusta's antibbellum history, had it not been for the renovations undertaken by the Petersonen family, who purchased the old Dupri home in 1962.

[00:08:29]During the removal of an attic wall, workers discovered a small space between the exterior wall and the chimney stack.

[00:08:38]Inside this space was a woman's glove, discolored with age, but remarkably preserved in the dry attic air. The glove, made of fine white cotton with delicate embroidery at the wrist, was of a style consistent with those worn by wealthy women of the antibbellum south.

[00:08:57]What made this particular glove notable was what was found inside it. A folded piece of paper containing what appeared to be a partial letter written in a careful educated hand and a small brass key. The letter fragment now housed in the Augusta Historical Society collection contains just three complete sentences. I know what happened in the east cellar. I saw you through the door crack. The blood will never wash away.

[00:09:25]The letter bears no signature, date, or address. Doctor Martin Collins, a historian who examined the artifacts in 1964, noted in his analysis that the handwriting appeared to be that of someone who learned to write as an adult rather than a child. The letters were formed precisely, but with a certain stiffness characteristic of later life literacy acquisition. This observation led to speculation that the letter might have been written by someone who was not part of the educated gentry. The small brass key was identified as being consistent with the type used for household furniture of the period, possibly a desk or jewelry box. Despite extensive examination of the remaining Dupri family possessions that had been donated to various historical collections, no matching lock was ever found. The discovery prompted amateur historian Elellanena Watson to delve deeper into the Dupri family history. In her self-published monograph, Unheard Voices: Slave Narratives of Augusta, 1967, she presents the theory that the glove and its contents were hidden by Sarah, the house slave mentioned in the Dupri family records. Watson suggests that Sarah, having witnessed something during or after the engagement party, may have attempted to use this knowledge as leverage, possibly in an attempt to secure her freedom. Watson's research uncovered a curious detail in the records of a plantation some 40 mi from Augusta. In a slave inventory dated September 1849, there appears a new acquisition described as one female approx 25 Vosar's field hand purchased from TD of Augusta. The price paid was significantly below market value for a healthy female slave of that age. Watson speculates that TD refers to Thomas Dupri and that this transaction may represent an attempt to remove Sarah from the area. What actually transpired at the Dupri plantation in July 1849 remains largely conjecture. The official record shows nothing more than a family celebration followed by the routine disappearance of several slaves, a common enough occurrence in the antibbellum south that it warranted little official attention. Yet certain facts cannot be dismissed. Katherine Dupri's sudden nervous exhaustion immediately following the party, the discrepancy between the number of slaves reported missing and the actual reduction in the plantation's human inventory, the dissolution of Catherine's engagement, and perhaps most tellingly, the hidden glove containing what appears to be a witness's accusation.

[00:12:27]The east cellar referenced in the letter fragment was identified during the 1962 renovation as a small storage room adjacent to the main cellar accessed through a narrow door that had been sealed with bricks and plaster at some point before the Civil War. When opened, the room contained nothing but empty shelving and an unusual stain on the dirt floor that according to the renovation foreman's report appeared to have been repeatedly covered with lime.

[00:12:58]No forensic testing was performed on the stained earth, as such procedures were not standard in historical renovations of that period. The space was simply cleaned and incorporated into the new owner's wine celler. In 1850, less than a year after the engagement party, Thomas Dupri commissioned a substantial renovation of the plantation house.

[00:13:22]According to the builder's records, this included the complete reconstruction of the kitchen and adjacent service areas, as well as the sealing off of certain unused storage spaces in the cellar level. The cost of these renovations represented a significant expenditure, particularly notable as it coincided with a downturn in cotton prices that affected many plantation owners finances. James Dupri, the eldest son, left Augusta in 1851 to establish a trading company in New Orleans. In the few surviving letters to his sister Catherine, he makes no mention of the events of the previous summer, focusing instead on business matters and local society news. His correspondence becomes increasingly infrequent after 1853 and ceases entirely by 1855.

[00:14:19]According to New Orleans parish records, he died of yellow fever during the epidemic of 1858, unmarried and without children. The youngest son, William, joined the Confederate army in 1861 and was killed at the Battle of Antitum in 1862.

[00:14:37]His personal effects, returned to Catherine after his death, included a small leatherbound journal. Most entries concern military life, but a passage dated December 25th, 1861 reads, "Christmas brings memories I would rather forget. I dream still of the sounds from below the floorboards.

[00:15:00]God forgive us all for what was done and what was not done. Perhaps the most intriguing piece of evidence comes not from the Dupri family at all, but from a statement recorded by Reverend Thompson in his private journal. The entry dated August 26th, 1849 recounts a conversation with Elizabeth Dupri after Sunday services. According to the Reverend, Mrs. Dupri appeared greatly troubled in spirit and inquired about the Lord's capacity for forgiveness when one has not committed a sin directly but has allowed it to occur through silence or absence. Reverend Thompson noted that he assured her of God's infinite mercy but was struck by a hollow quality to her relief as though she sought absolution for something beyond the reach of mere words. He further observed that Thomas Dupri, who would normally have accompanied his wife to the recctor's office, instead waited by the carriage with a countenance suggesting impatience rather than penitence.

[00:16:07]Montgomery family records offer little additional insight. A letter from Harold Montgomery to his cousin in Virginia, dated October 1849, makes only passing reference to the broken engagement. The matter with the Dupri girl has been concluded to the satisfaction of all concerned. Father assures me that my prospects remain unddeinished and indeed may be improved by this change in circumstances.

[00:16:36]Katherine Dupri lived the remainder of her life in increasing seclusion.

[00:16:41]Neighbors accounts describe her as becoming peculiar in her later years, reportedly refusing to employ household help and maintaining an unusual preoccupation with the security of her home. The Augusta Chronicles brief abituary in 1892 mentioned her charitable contributions to the Episcopal Church and the local orphanage, but noted that she had long since withdrawn from society's embrace.

[00:17:10]After Catherine's death, her personal papers and possessions were divided among distant relatives, many of whom had never met her. A significant portion ended up in various historical collections through donation or sale. It was among these dispersed items that Elellanena Watson conducted much of her research in the 1960s.

[00:17:34]One item of particular interest was Catherine's personal Bible donated to the Augusta Historical Society by a grand niece in 1948.

[00:17:46]The Bible contains typical family notations of births, deaths, and marriages, but also includes a pressed flower identified as a blackeyed Susan between the pages where the book of Psalms opens to the 51st Psalm, which begins, "Have mercy upon me, oh God, according to thy loving kindness, according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.

[00:18:14]Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. The renovation of 1962 was not the first time the old DRI home had yielded unexpected discoveries. According to county records, a previous renovation in 1934 was halted when workers uncovered what appeared to be human remains while excavating for a new septic system. The remains were found in an area that would have been near the old slave quarters, approximately 100 yards from the main house. The coroner's report filed on June 12th, 1934, indicates that the bones were determined to be of considerable age, likely predating the current century, and were assumed to be from an unmarked slave burial. No further investigation was deemed necessary and the remains were reinterred in an unmarked section of the city cemetery. Dr. Collins in his 1964 analysis notes the curious fact that the location where these remains were found does not correspond to any known slave burial ground on the original plantation maps. The Dupri plantation, like most large estates of its time, had a designated area for slave burials, but it was located on the opposite side of the property. In the winter of 1965, the Petersonen family, who had purchased and renovated the old Dupri home, reported experiencing unsettling occurrences in the house, including unexplained sounds and a persistent cold spot in the east wing. They sold the property the following year. The next three families who owned the house each stayed less than 5 years with two specifically citing an uncomfortable atmosphere as their reason for selling.

[00:20:08]Local folklore eventually attached itself to the property with stories of hauntings becoming part of Augusta's unofficial history. Ghost tours established in the 1990s included the house on their route, though the narratives focus more on generic supernatural elements than on the specific historical events that may have occurred there. In 1968, Elellanena Watson attempted to locate descendants of the slaves who had been listed as missing from the Dupree plantation, but her efforts yielded little concrete information. The fragmentaryary nature of slave records combined with the chaos of the Civil War era and its aftermath made tracing such connections nearly impossible. She did however uncover one tantalizing lead in the form of an interview conducted in 1937 as part of the Federal Writer Project collection of former slave narratives. The interviewe identified only as old Martha, age approximately 100, recounted a story told to her by her mother about a big house near the river where the devil came to a party wearing fine clothes, and afterward five people were never seen again. The location details are vague, but the time frame would align with the events of the Dupri plantation.

[00:21:33]The most recent chapter in this historical mystery occurred in 1969 when a construction project on the outskirts of Augusta uncovered a small unmarked cemetery. Archaeological assessment determined it dated to the mid 19th century and contained the remains of five individuals. No headstones or markers were present. But the burial method, simple pine coffins without decorative elements, was consistent with indigent or slave burials of the period. What made this discovery unusual was the location. The site was on what had once been part of the Montgomery estate, the family of Katherine DRI's former fiance. No record existed of a burial ground in this location, which had been a wooded area well away from both the main house and the established slave quarters. Forensic analysis limited by the technology available in the late 1960s, determined only that the remains included those of three men and two women, all adult. One female skeleton showed evidence of a healed fracture to the right forearm consistent with the defensive injury. No cause of death could be determined for any of the remains. The connection between these burials and the events at the DRI plantation remains speculative.

[00:22:58]The remains were eventually reinterred in Augusta's historical cemetery with a simple marker noting only the estimated time period and the date of discovery.

[00:23:09]As with many historical mysteries, the full truth of what transpired at the Dupri plantation in the summer of 1849 may never be known. The physical evidence is fragmentaryary, the documentary record incomplete, and those who witnessed the events firsthand have long since passed away, taking their secrets with them. What remains are the tantalizing clues. A hidden glove containing an accusatory note, discrepancies in official records, a family's sudden withdrawal from society, architectural modifications that concealed rather than revealed, and five unmarked graves on neighboring property.

[00:23:51]The glove itself, that small piece of evidence that launched this historical inquiry, remains in the collection of the Augusta Historical Society.

[00:24:01]The white cotton has yellowed with age.

[00:24:03]The once delicate embroidery now faded and fragile, but the object retains a certain power, a tactile connection to events long past, to words written in fear or defiance, to secrets hidden within walls. In 1890, 2 years before her death, Katherine Dupri made her final public appearance at a church fundraising event. A local newspaper reported that when asked about her long absence from society, she replied with a quote from Shakespeare. What's done cannot be undone. The reporter noted that though her voice was steady, her fingers worked continuously at the edge of her glove, as though seeking to remove it despite the cool temperature of the evening. The old Dupri plantation house still stands on the outskirts of Augusta, though the land around it has been parcled and developed over the decades. The current owners who purchased the property in 1981 have reported no unusual occurrences and have maintained the historic structure with appropriate care. The east cellar now serves as a media room, its walls and floor completely renovated. any secrets they might have held long since buried beneath layers of modern construction.

[00:25:26]Yet for those who know the story, who have examined the fragments of evidence and the gaps in the historical record, the house represents something more than just another antibbellum landmark. It stands as a monument to the unspoken, to the crimes that history records only in whispers and absences, in the spaces between official accounts. The glove discovered in 1962, a lady's glove, though perhaps not originally belonging to a lady, reminds us that history is often written not just by the victors, but by those with the power to create and preserve official records. For every document that survives in archives and historical collections, countless others have been destroyed or hidden, taking with them perspectives that might have challenged the accepted narrative. In the case of the Dupri plantation, we are left with questions that echo across the centuries. What was seen through that door crack? Whose blood stained the cellar floor? Why were five people, not three, missing from the plantation's inventory? What connection existed between Sarah, the literate house slave, and the hidden accusatory note? And perhaps most disturbingly, how many other such stories remain untold, buried in attic walls or beneath unassuming patches of ground, waiting for chance or determination to bring them into the light. For the five people who disappeared from the Dri plantation in the summer of 1849, whether through flight, as the official record claims, or through some darker fate, as the evidence suggests, justice may never be fully served. But in reconstructing their story, in acknowledging the possibility of their suffering, we perhaps offer a small measure of the recognition that was denied them in life. The sound that still echoes from that long ago July night is one of silence. The enforced silence of those whose voices were deemed unworthy of recording. The complicit silence of those who may have witnessed but failed to speak. The institutional silence that allowed such events to be neatly categorized as routine and unremarkable. It is that silence more than any supernatural whisper that haunts the old Dupri estate. And it is that silence that we as students of history must continue to challenge, listening for the voices that speak from gloves hidden in walls, from stains covered with lime, from graves without names, from the spaces between the lines of official records. For in those spaces, in those silences, lies a truth that no amount of renovation can completely erase. In 1958, 6 years before Dr. Collins conducted his analysis of the glove and its contents, another piece of the puzzle emerged through an unlikely source. Mabel Jenkins, a retired school teacher who had grown up in Augusta, contributed an oral history to the Georgia Folk Heritage Project. Her recording, preserved on magnetic tape and later digitized by the University of Georgia, includes a story passed down through her family about the Dupri household.

[00:28:54]According to Jenkins, whose grandmother had worked as a laundress for several prominent Augusta families, there had been whispered talk among the colored help about the events following the Dupri engagement party. Jenkins recounted, "My grandmother would never speak directly about what happened, but she told me once that after that celebration, the Dupre had their kitchen floor replaced entirely, though it had been installed new just 2 years prior."

[00:29:24]She said the wood had been stained with something that wouldn't come clean no matter how hard they scrubbed. Jenkins also mentioned a rumor that Katherine Dri had been taken with someone considered inappropriate, though the nature of this attachment was never specified in the family stories.

[00:29:43]Whatever happened, Jenkins concluded in her recording, "It changed that family forever." "My grandmother said, "Mrs." Elizabeth Dupri, who had once been known for her laughter, never smiled again after that summer. The kitchen renovation mentioned by Jenkins is confirmed in Thomas Dupri's business records which show a payment to a carpenter in August 1849 for complete removal and replacement of kitchen flooring, walls to be whitewashed, new shelving constructed. The cost was substantial, and as Jenkins noted, seems unusual given that household accounts show a previous kitchen. Renovation had been completed in 1847.

[00:30:29]In 1959, during the cataloging of materials donated to the Augusta Public Library by the estate of Judge William Carrington, an intriguing document was discovered tucked inside a legal reference book. The document, a single sheet of paper folded several times contained what appeared to be private notes regarding a conversation between Judge Carrington and Thomas Dupri in late July 1849.

[00:30:57]The notes presumably made by the judge himself are cryptic but suggestive. TD inquires about legal standing re property destruction advised that owner's rights are absolute discussion of moral taint on goods used in commission of acts against natural law.

[00:31:16]TD inquired about legal requirement to report certain discoveries to authorities. advised that in the absence of a white complainant, the matter remains within the purview of the property owner. Judge Carrington, who served on the Augusta Circuit Court from 1836 to 1852, was known for his strict interpretation of property laws and his generally pro-slavery judicial decisions. His relationship with Thomas DRI appears to have been both professional and social, as DRI's name appears on guest lists for several of the judges dinner parties in the years before 1849.

[00:31:57]The discovery of the judge's notes raised new questions about what Thomas Dri might have been seeking legal advice for in the aftermath of the engagement celebration. The reference to property destruction and moral taint suggests something beyond routine plantation management issues, while the mention of certain discoveries implies that something unexpected had been found.

[00:32:22]Perhaps most telling is the judge's apparent assurance that without a white complainant, no legal proceedings would be necessary. This reinforces the theory that whatever occurred at the Dupri plantation involved the enslaved members of the household whose testimony would have carried no legal weight in Antibbellum, Georgia. In the fall of 1962, shortly after the discovery of the glove in the DRI house wall, Augusta experienced unusually heavy rains that caused localized flooding, particularly along the former route of the Augusta Canal. During efforts to clear a block drainage ditch near what had once been the southeastern boundary of the DRI property, workers uncovered a small metal box that had apparently been washed out of the embankment. The box, approximately 6 in long and 4 in wide, was made of tin and had been soldered shut. When opened by county officials, it was found to contain several items. A small book of common prayers printed in 1835.

[00:33:31]A braided lock of dark hair tied with thread. A handcarved wooden figure about 3 in tall representing a woman in a long dress. And most significantly, a folded piece of paper containing what appeared to be a partial map. The map drawn in ink on what seems to be a page torn from a ledger book shows what is clearly the Dupri house and surrounding outuildings.

[00:33:58]Several areas are marked with small X's and there is writing along the bottom edge that has become illeible due to water damage. The only decipherable words are beneath thee and what might be stones or storage. Dr. Collins examined this map as part of his broader investigation and noted that one of the marked locations corresponds approximately to where the human remains were discovered during the 1934 renovation.

[00:34:28]Another marked spot appears to be in or near the east cellar mentioned in the letter found inside the glove. The significance of the other items in the tin box is less clear. The prayer book contains no inscriptions or markings that might identify its owner. The wooden figure, according to an anthropologist consulted by Dr. Collins, bears some resemblance to folk art traditions brought from West Africa, but modified by generations of cultural adaptation in the American South. The braided lock of hair was subjected to limited forensic analysis in 1964, which determined only that it came from a human with dark hair, possibly female, based on the length and finness of the strands. More detailed DNA analysis was not available at that time. The provenence of the tin box remains unknown. Its location near the boundary of the former Dupri property suggests it may have been deliberately buried or hidden there rather than being part of household refues. The fact that it was soldered shut indicates an intention to preserve its contents against the elements, suggesting the items held significant value, practical, sentimental, or evidentiary to whoever concealed them. in his unpublished manuscript, Shadows of Augusta, Untold Histories of the Antibbellum Elite, completed in 1966, but never published due to his sudden death that same year, Dr. Collins proposed a theory about the events of July 1849.

[00:36:11]Based on his analysis of all available evidence, he suggested the following scenario. The engagement celebration between Katherine Dupri and Harold Montgomery served as a catalyst for the revelation of some longsuppressed truth involving Sarah, the literate house slave assigned to Catherine's personal service. The nature of this truth, whether it concerned an inappropriate relationship, a witnessed crime, or some other damaging information, remains speculative. But it was sufficiently serious to warrant both immediate violent action and subsequent extensive coverup efforts. The physical evidence suggests that whatever occurred likely took place in the east cellar and possibly also in the kitchen areas which later underwent significant and unusually rapid renovation.

[00:37:05]The discrepancy between reported and actual missing slaves indicates an attempt to obscure the true count of those who disappeared, whether through death or forced relocation. The involvement of Judge Carrington suggests legal concerns that extended beyond routine plantation management while the subsequent social isolation of the Dupri family particularly Catherine points to a scandal or tragedy significant enough to alter the course of multiple lives.

[00:37:40]Doctor Collins concluded his manuscript with a poignant observation. In the archaeology of silence, we sometimes find the loudest testimony to historical truth. The Dupri case represents not a single isolated incident, but rather a window into the uncounted, unrecorded atrocities that formed the foundation of antibbellum southern society. atrocities preserved not in official histories but in hidden gloves, buried boxes, and the whispered stories passed down by those who had no other means of bearing witness. Following Dr. Collins death, his research materials were donated to the University of Georgia archives. In this letter dated March 18, 1966, Elizabeth Montgomery Childers shared a family story that had been passed down through generations.

[00:38:35]My greatgrandfather seldom spoke of his broken engagement to Katherine Dupri.

[00:38:41]But once in his later years, he told my grandmother that he had narrowly escaped becoming part of a family whose fortune was built on particular cruelties that went beyond the usual sins of our time.

[00:38:54]When pressed for details, he would say only that some matters are best left buried with the dead, and that his decision to end the engagement had been the wisest choice of a fortunate life.

[00:39:07]This cryptic statement suggests that Harold Montgomery may have learned something about the Dupri family that caused him to withdraw from the engagement rather than the dissolution being solely Catherine's decision, as the official narrative implied. Among these materials was correspondence with a descendant of Harold Montgomery, Katherine Dupri's former fiance, who had initially refused to be interviewed for the manuscript, but had later written to Collins privately. The timing of the broken engagement coming shortly after the mysterious events following the celebration adds weight to this interpretation.

[00:39:47]In 1968, when the unmarked graves were discovered on former Montgomery property, Elizabeth Montgomery Childers was again contacted by researchers. Her response, preserved in the University of Georgia archives, was brief but telling.

[00:40:04]I am not surprised by this discovery, though I can offer no specific information about these unfortunate souls.

[00:40:13]I would suggest, however, that you consider the possibility that their burial on Montgomery land may have been an act of mercy rather than complicity, perhaps the only form of justice or dignity that could be offered under the circumstances that prevailed.

[00:40:30]The implication that the Montgomery family may have provided burial for victims of some act committed at the Dupri plantation adds yet another layer to this historical puzzle. If true, it suggests a complex moral calculation on the part of Harold Montgomery and his family, distancing themselves socially from the Dupre while providing some measure of respect for those who had suffered, yet never publicly exposing whatever they knew. Katherine DRI's later years spent in isolation in her Augusta home are documented primarily through tax records, occasional mentions in church donation lists, and the brief interactions recorded by neighbors and trades people. These fragmentaryary glimpses suggest a woman haunted by her past, though the exact nature of her burden remained unspoken.

[00:41:25]According to the diary of Augusta physician Dr. James Whittier, he was called to Catherine's home in 1878 to treat an episode of what he termed acute melancholia with agitation. His notes indicate that she was found by her sole household servant, a free black woman named Mary Turner, pacing in her garden at dawn, clutching a small object to her chest and repeating the phrase, "They were innocent. All innocent. Doctor Whittier prescribed a tonic containing lordinum and suggested regular companionship, noting with evident frustration that Miss Dupri resists all efforts towards social reintegration, preferring her solitude despite its evident detrimental effects on her mental constitution. In a follow-up entry 3 months later, he observed that she had returned to her customary state of remote composure, that peculiar calm that suggests not peace, but the exhaustion that follows prolonged internal struggle. Mary Turner, the free black woman who served as Catherine's housekeeper and cook from approximately 1870 through 1888, left no written record of her experiences in the household. However, her granddaughter was interviewed by Elellanena Watson in 1967 and recalled stories that her grandmother had shared. According to this oral history, Katherine Dupri maintained strict routines, including a peculiar ritual performed on the 15th of each July, the anniversary of the engagement party. On this day, she would lock herself in her bedroom from dawn until dusk, permitting no interruptions.

[00:43:14]Mary Turner reported hearing weeping from behind the door and once the sound of glass breaking. When she entered to clean the following day, she would find the room in perfect order, save for a single item, a white glove placed on the dressing table, which would then disappear before the next morning. The granddaughter also recounted that Catherine had stipulated in her employment agreement with Mary Turner that certain topics were never to be mentioned. the Old House, The Summer Celebration, Sarah, and the Cellar. Any reference to these subjects would result in immediate dismissal without reference. Perhaps the most curious detail from this oral history concerns Catherine's death in 1892. According to Mary Turner's account, as related by her granddaughter, Catherine summoned her to her bedside in her final hours and pressed into her hand a small brass key, saying only, "It's finished now. Let them rest." Mary Turner apparently never discovered what the key might open, and eventually passed it to her daughter as a curiosity. Its current whereabouts are unknown. The Augusta Chronicles coverage of Catherine's funeral noted the sparse attendance consisting primarily of church officials and distant relatives.

[00:44:40]However, the paper also mentioned an elderly colored woman standing apart from the main assembly who placed a single blackeyed Susan on the grave after all others had departed. The identity of this woman was not recorded, but the choice of flower matching the pressed bloom found in Catherine's Bible suggests some connection to the deceased or knowledge of her personal symbolism.

[00:45:06]In the decades following these events, the story of the DRI family faded from public memory, preserved only in scattered documents and oral histories.

[00:45:16]Augusta grew and changed. The Civil War and Reconstruction reshaped southern society, and new generations arose with little knowledge of or interest in the mysteries of the previous century. Yet the physical evidence remained. The renovated house with its hidden spaces and replaced floors, the unmarked graves on Montgomery land, the glove with its accusatory note, the tin box with its curious contents, the cellar stained with something that required lime to mask it. In 1969, the Augusta Historical Society commissioned a commemorative volume celebrating the city's bicesentennial.

[00:46:00]The initial draft included a brief section on unsolved mysteries of old Augusta which contained a paragraph about the Dupri case. Before publication, however, this section was removed at the request of several prominent local families, including descendants of the Montgomery's and of Judge Carrington. The official reason given for this editorial decision was that such speculative matters based largely on folklore rather than documented fact have no place in a serious historical work. An internal memo preserved in the historical society's archives suggests another motivation. While these tales may hold some academic interest, their inclusion risks casting a shadow over names still honored in our community, the bicesentennial volume should celebrate Augusta's proud heritage rather than excavating its more troubling chapters.

[00:47:00]This attempt at historical erasia is itself telling, a continuation of the same impulse towards silence and concealment that characterize the original events and their immediate aftermath. Yet, as Dr. Collins observed in his unpublished manuscript, the archaeology of silence sometimes reveals more than the official record ever could. The final piece of this historical puzzle emerged in 1968 when the Augusta Public Library received a donation of books from the estate of an elderly resident named Grace Williams who had passed away at the age of 96.

[00:47:39]Among these volumes was a copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare published in 1842.

[00:47:46]Inside this book pressed between the pages of McBth was a newspaper clipping from the Charleston Mercury dated September 3rd, 1849.

[00:47:57]The small article, only three paragraphs long, reported that a female slave of unusual literacy had been apprehended in the city attempting to board a vessel bound for Philadelphia. According to the report, she had been carrying papers suggesting she was free, but these were determined to be forgeries. The article concluded by noting that the woman who gave her name as Lucy, but was identified by her owner as Sarah, property of Tupri of Augusta, was returned to her master's agent for transport back to Georgia. No further record of this Sarah appears in any known historical document. The Shakespeare volume also contained a handwritten note on the end paper in what handwriting experts would later identify as being consistent with the note found in the glove. I have seen what makes angels weep. If these words find sympathetic eyes, know that five souls cry out from beneath stone and soil. I go now to what fate brings, but these words remain. Look to the east room where darkness gathers, and to the kitchen where fire could not cleanse.

[00:49:14]Judge not by what records claim, but by what silence hides. The note is signed simply s with the date or 20, 1849.

[00:49:24]The presence of this book in Grace Williams possession raises questions about her connection to the events.

[00:49:31]Research into her background revealed that she had been born in Philadelphia in 1872 to parents who had moved north from South Carolina after the Civil War.

[00:49:42]Census records list her father's occupation as seaman, suggesting a possible link to maritime networks that were often involved in the Underground Railroad. Could Grace Williams have been related to someone connected to the Dupri case? Did the Shakespeare volume with its hidden newspaper clipping and cryptic note pass through the hands of those involved in attempted escapes from southern slavery? These questions remain unanswered. Another set of tantalizing possibilities in a story defined by its gaps and silences. What we know with certainty is limited. An engagement celebration took place at the Dupri plantation in July 1849.

[00:50:27]In the aftermath, several slaves were reported missing. Renovations were hurriedly made to specific areas of the house. Katherine Dupra's engagement was broken and her life took a dramatic turn toward isolation, and physical evidence discovered more than a century later suggests that violence occurred and was deliberately concealed. The rest remains in the realm of informed speculation, an exercise not in sensationalism, but in recovering voices and experiences that the official record sought to erase. In this effort, we honor not just the specific individuals who may have suffered at the Dupri plantation, but the countless others whose stories have been similarly silenced by history's selective memory. As for the Dupri House itself, it was eventually converted into a bed and breakfast in the 1990s, capitalizing on Augusta's growing heritage tourism industry. The promotional materials make no mention of the events of 1849, focusing instead on the architectural features and the property's connection to traditional southern plantation life.

[00:51:42]Guests occasionally report unusual experiences, cold spots in certain rooms, the sound of footsteps when no one is present, objects that seem to move without explanation. They do not mention the glove in the wall, the stain beneath the cellar floor, or the note signed simply s. But for those who know where to look, who can read the spaces between official narratives, who understand that history is as much about what is not said as what is recorded, the true story remains accessible. A whisper beneath the floorboards, a shadow behind the freshly plastered wall, a secret passed down through generations of those who had reason to remember when others chose to forget.

[00:52:29]The current owners attribute these stories to the power of suggestion and the natural creeks and settling of an old house. In the summer of 2005, during renovations to expand the bed and breakfast's dining room, workers discovered a small cavity beneath the kitchen floor. Inside was a bundle wrapped in oil cloth, remarkably preserved. The bundle contained a simple wooden doll similar to the one found in the tin box years earlier and a scrap of fabric that appeared to be cut from a white cotton glove. No official investigation was conducted. No newspaper articles were published. The items were quietly removed and at the owner's instruction rearied elsewhere on the property. A final act in a long history of concealment. But the truth, as Katherine Duprey perhaps finally recognized on her deathbed, cannot be forever hidden. It emerges in fragments and whispers, in objects preserved and stories passed down, in the very silences that were meant to erase it.

[00:53:35]And in that emergence, however partial and belated, lies a kind of justice.