Case 266: Circleville Letter Writer
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These episodes are designed to be slightly shorter, allowing us to cover a broader range of cases. To receive these episodes early and ad-free, you can support Casefile on your preferred platform. On the afternoon of Monday, March 21, 1977, 33-year-old Mary Gillespie walked out of her house and down the long, dirt path to the mailbox.

The Gillespie farmhouse was the only residence visible on this area of road on the outskirts of Circleville, Ohio. Across the street, acres of flat cropland extended as far as the eye could see. The cool air was quiet and still. After retrieving the mail, Mary absentmindedly flicked through it while walking back to the front door. Then an envelope caught her eye.

Her name and address were written on it in thick black ink with stocky square lettering. Mary turned it over. There was no return address. Mary opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of lined paper. Written in the same blocky handwriting, one line of the letter immediately caught Mary's eye. It read: "I know where you live. I've been observing your house and know you have children. This is no joke.

"Please take it serious, and everything will be over soon." Once Mary Gillespie was back indoors, she studied the letter more closely. Its very first line read: "Stay away from Massey. Don't lie when questioned about knowing him." Mary knew who the writer was referring to. 44-year-old Gordon Massey was the district's school superintendent, and Mary did know him.

She and Gordon worked in close quarters because Mary was a school bus driver. Recently, rumors had circulated throughout the tight-knit community of Circleville that Gordon and Mary were having an affair. Whoever had sent the letter was imploring Mary to break off her alleged relationship with the married superintendent and report him to the school board. The letter had no identifying features.

It had been postmarked from the state capital of Columbus, which was approximately 30 miles away. Mary was concerned by the letter but decided not to do anything about it. She stashed it away in a safe place where her husband and two children wouldn't find it. A week later, Mary found another envelope in the mailbox with the same distinctive blocky writing in thick black ink. Once again, it was postmarked from Columbus with no return address.

Inside was another sheet of lined paper. This time the message was more aggressive: "Lady, this is your last chance to report him. I know you are a pig and will prove it and shame you out of Ohio." A pig sneaks around and meets other women's husbands behind their backs and causes families and homes and marriages to suffer. On this occasion, the mysterious author referenced Mary's eight-year-old daughter, Tracy.

Quote, How is your little girl? Will she grow up to be like you? Mary tucked the disturbing letter away with the previous one and tried to put it out of her mind. Almost one week later, Mary Gillespie's husband, Ron, was at the glass plate factory where he worked when he received a letter that was addressed to him in thick, blocky writing.

Postmarked from Columbus with no return address, the letter informed Ron that his wife was having an affair with Superintendent Gordon Massey. Its author urged Ron to expose them, concluding with the suggestion: "You should catch them together and kill them both." When Ron got home from work he confronted his wife with the letter. Mary told him the accusation wasn't true and revealed that she had also received two letters.

She took them out from where she'd stashed them and the couple compared them. There were definite similarities between the three letters. Aside from the handwriting, they were all riddled with spelling and grammatical errors. The writer also had the unique habit of using colons in place of full stops. Ron was concerned but agreed with Mary to keep the letters under wraps. Circleville was already rife with gossip and speculation as it was.

A fortnight later, on Thursday April 14, Ron received another note from his wife's unidentified harasser. It read: "Gillespie, you have had two weeks and done nothing. You are a pig defender. You are also a pig. Make her admit the truth and inform the school board. If not, I will broadcast it on posters, signs, billboards until the truth comes out. Good hunting in your red and white truck on your way to work.

This letter featured one notable difference to its predecessors. There was a return address printed on the back of the envelope listing a house in Circleville.

Ron and Mary looked it up, only to find it was the home of Superintendent Gordon Massey. It appeared the rider was mocking them. Ron was unnerved by the rider's threats. The mention of his red and white pickup truck indicated that he was being watched. This led to Ron and Mary reporting the letters to the County Sheriff's Office. Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe looked over the letters. They featured absolutely no clues as to the rider's identity.

Sheriff Radcliffe reached out to the district's school officials and the U.S. Postal Service in the hopes they could help establish a lead. While the school officials cooperated, the Postal Service did not. Meanwhile, Mary Gillespie continued to receive letters. Worryingly, the author began directing their anger at Mary's eight-year-old daughter, Tracy, writing, "'I shall come out there and put a bullet in that little girl's head.'"

Unbeknown to Ron and Mary Gillespie, they weren't the only people in town to receive mail from the Circleville letter writer. Although the writer seemed to have Mary Gillespie firmly in their sights, other residents began reporting similar letters to the sheriff. Most were regarded as a nuisance and nothing more. But then, Superintendent Gordon Massey came forward.

Two weeks before Mary Gillespie received her first letter, Gordon Massey had found a note in his mail. It featured the same block handwriting as the others, with errors in spelling and grammar, no return address, and a Columbus postmark. As detailed in the podcast Whatever Remains, the letter accused Gordon Massey of harassing numerous female bus drivers. An excerpt read,

Gordon had initially decided to keep the note to himself, but eventually brought it to the attention of authorities.

They soon found that shortly after this letter was sent, the writer had also sent letters to the local board of education and the superintendent of another school district. All of these letters demanded that Gordon Massey step down from his superintendent position and leave the bus drivers alone. The content of the letters implied that the author was close to the bus drivers, but there were no other clues as to their identity.

Law enforcement had no evidence that Gordon Massey was acting inappropriately towards the female bus drivers and he retained his job. Signs then started cropping up along the sides of roads on Mary Gillespie's bus route. They featured crude messages accusing Mary and Gordon Massey of having an affair. They also claimed that Mary's underage daughter, Tracy, was having sexual relations with the superintendent.

Ron Gillespie woke up early each morning so he could drive around town looking for new signs. Whenever he found one, he promptly tore it down and destroyed it. The constant harassment was taking a toll on him and Mary. They became tired, fearful, and were constantly on the lookout for the next accusation. Despite Ron Gillespie's vigilance, the letters and signs increased in frequency.

It seemed as though the sheriff's office had little interest in identifying the culprit. Desperate for help, Ron and Mary reached out to Ron's sister, Karen Freshour, and her husband, Paul. Although they couldn't be certain, the Gillespie's had a hunch as to who was behind the letters. They believed it was another bus driver named David Longberry. Before the letters arrived, David had made advances towards Mary despite knowing she was married.

After Mary rejected David, he began to act coolly towards her. It appeared as though he held a grudge. One day in mid-1977, Ron and Mary hatched a plan with help from Karen and Paul Freshour. Paul was a former prison guard and so was used to dealing with threatening behavior. Nine years earlier, he'd been working at the Ohio State Penitentiary when a riot broke out.

Paul was held hostage for 30 hours alongside eight other guards. Although he escaped the ordeal physically unharmed, Paul subsequently quit his job. Almost a decade later, he still remembered the tactics he'd used trying to de-escalate the situation and suggested they employ them against the letter writer. Paul Freshour drafted a letter to David Longberry with assistance from Ron, Mary, and his wife Karen.

Paul later said that the letter wasn't violent in nature, but it ordered David to stop writing the letters and posting signs around town. Paul mailed the letter to David. He later followed it up with three or four more. The letters stopped immediately after this. But the Gillespie's relief was short-lived.

On Friday August 19 1977, five months after the first letter arrived in her mailbox, Mary Gillespie and her sister-in-law Karen Freshour boarded a plane for a much-needed vacation in Florida. Mary's husband Ron remained in Circleville to look after the couple's children. That evening, Ron and his kids spent a quiet night at home. Then, just after 10 o'clock, the phone rang. Ron answered it.

He spent a few moments on the line before slamming the phone down angrily. Ron retrieved his .22 caliber revolver. He told his daughter, Tracy, that he had just received a call from the letter writer. Now, it seemed that the writer had escalated to phone calls. Ron planned to go and confront him. He kissed Tracy on the top of her head and said he'd be back soon.

Then, Ron hopped into his red and white pickup truck and sped off down the rural Circleville Road.

At 10:30pm, about half an hour after Ron Gillespie received a call from the Circleville letter writer, the phone rang at the County Sheriff's office. A frantic sounding caller on the other end explained that he had just driven past a terrible accident on a road called Five Points Pike. Police rushed to the scene, which was seven miles from the Gillespie home. There, they found Ron Gillespie's truck,

It had collided front first into a tree at high speed. Ron hadn't been wearing a seatbelt and was ejected from the driver's seat into the windshield. He was rushed to hospital but was pronounced dead on arrival from massive head trauma and internal injuries. Ron's death appeared to be an accident. He returned a blood alcohol level of 0.16%, which at the time was one and a half times the legal limit in Ohio.

The area had no street lights and it appeared as though Ron had missed the curve of the road, instead driving straight ahead and veering off course. The coroner concluded no autopsy was necessary. Ron's devastated family was left with unanswered questions. The revolver Ron had taken with him was discovered under his body. One of its bullets had been fired, but it was never located.

Ron's family wondered if he had been in some sort of altercation, then gotten into a high-speed chase. Although he'd been driving in the dark, Ron knew the area like the back of his hand. He drove along Five Points Pike almost daily. His loved ones couldn't accept that he would crash on a road he knew so well. Those who knew Ron were also confused by the blood alcohol report. Ron was not a heavy drinker.

His children said he did not seem intoxicated when he left the house. Some members of his family also believed that one side of his pickup truck was peppered with bullet holes, though this was not mentioned in official police reports. Former prison guard Paul Freshour was especially close to his brother-in-law. He told Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe that he believed foul play was involved. Sheriff Radcliffe initially took Paul's concerns seriously.

He tracked down one potential suspect and questioned him extensively, but he was ruled out of the investigation. Following that lead, the sheriff reiterated the assumption that Ron's death was nothing more than a tragic accident. Paul Freshour believed Sheriff Radcliffe knew more than he was letting on and accused him of covering up Ron's murder. Paul explained that the sheriff planned to run for the National Sheriffs Association presidency

Because of this, he couldn't afford to have a potential crime of such magnitude go unsolved in his county. What exactly happened to Ron Gillespie in the final moments of his life would remain unknown. But the crash appeared to unnerve the Circleville letter writer. After news of Ron's death spread through Circleville, the letters abruptly stopped.

Ron Gillespie's death also affected the personal relationships of those closest to him. In October 1982, Ron's sister Karen divorced her husband Paul Fraschauer after 20 years of marriage. Superintendent Gordon Massey and his wife also divorced after she filed papers citing extreme cruelty and gross negligence of duty. Following his divorce, Gordon Massey began officially seeing Ron's widow Mary Gillespie.

Despite the long-rumoured affair between the two, Mary was adamant their relationship did not start until this time. In the years that followed, Mary continued to work as a bus driver for the local school district. Yet, life didn't return to any semblance of normality. In time, the Circleville letter writer began intermittently displaying signs around town again.

Other residents also continued receiving nuisance mail, but the matter was not investigated further. By December 1982, five years had passed since the death of Ron Gillespie and Mary had received more than 30 letters and postcards from her unidentified harasser. Days before Christmas, she received yet another. This card contained an unusual threat. The writer wanted Mary to marry Gordon Massey within three months.

They added that if the couple wasn't married by March 1 1983, Mary would have to visit all of the stops along her route to remove messages that would involve her now 13-year-old daughter, Tracy. Two months later on Monday February 7, Mary was driving her bus near Five Point Pike, close to where her late husband Ron had crashed.

Mary was running late to collect her first busload of students that afternoon when she noticed a sign on a fence post. Written on a plank of 2x4 plywood, the sign featured a derogatory remark about her daughter Tracy and Gordon Massey. Mary stopped the bus and lifted the sign off the post. She put it on the seat beside her and continued on her way. After Mary arrived home that day, she studied the sign more closely.

Behind it was a black box made from corrugated cardboard. Mary tore open the top of the box. Inside, she saw a replica handgun held upright by styrofoam. Mary deliberated whether to bother the sheriff's office with her discovery. They were already well aware of the letters and signs she had been dealing with for years. However, given the implied threat that the replica gun represented, Mary decided to hand it over to authorities.

They established that the handgun wasn't a replica. It was a live 25 caliber pistol in a crudely designed booby trap. There was one bullet in the gun's chamber and another in the clip. A trip wire had been tied around the handle and trigger of the gun. It was designed to go off when the sign was torn from the box. When attached to the post, the gun was positioned just over five feet from the ground.

Had Mary ripped the sign down instead of lifting the entire contraption off the fence post, she could have been killed. Whoever set up the trap had attempted to cover their tracks by filing the serial number off the gun. The pistol was sent to the Bureau of Criminal Analysis and through microscopic examination, investigators were able to piece together the serial number. It was traced back to a man from Columbus named Wesley Wells.

The next morning, Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe went to Wesley's residential address where he was met by his wife. She advised that Wesley had left for his job at a local brewery. The sheriff contacted Wesley's workplace and spoke to him over the phone. Wesley told the sheriff he had sold the gun to his work supervisor three months earlier. The supervisor had wanted a gun for protection as his family was constantly being harassed.

While Wesley chatted with the sheriff, his supervisor stood nearby, listening in on the call. When the sheriff asked to speak with him, Wesley held out the phone, but his supervisor hastily walked away. Sheriff Radcliffe then asked for the supervisor's name. The man who owned the pistol that almost killed Mary Gillespie was her brother-in-law, Paul Freshour. Wesley was confused by Paul's strange behavior.

After his phone call with the sheriff, he confronted Paul and asked what had happened to the gun he had sold him. Paul appeared nervous as he told Wesley it had gone missing. In the days that followed, Paul repeatedly approached Wesley to ask if he'd had any further contact with the sheriff about the gun. Meanwhile, investigators checked Paul Freshour's employment records. They showed that Paul had requested a day off on the day that Mary Gillespie found the booby trap.

A search of the brewery where Paul worked uncovered materials that matched those used to make the booby trap, including a chalk box made of corrugated cardboard, twine, wire, and styrofoam. When Paul was questioned, he admitted to owning the gun, but said it had been stolen from his garage sometime before the trap was set. He had never reported it missing.

Because the lettering on the booby trap sign was so similar to that of the Circleville letter writer, the sheriff hoped that identifying whoever set the trap would weed out the writer once and for all. On Friday February 25 1983, Paul Freshour was taken to the county sheriff's office for a series of handwriting tests. He willingly complied and also submitted to a polygraph test in an attempt to clear his name.

Although polygraphs are not a reliable indicator of guilt, the examiner concluded that Paul failed the test, indicating that he had set the booby trap. His handwriting also bore incredible similarities to that of the Circleville letter writer. Paul was re-interviewed after this, and according to Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe, he admitted to writing about 50 of the Circleville letters. The sheriff could not ascertain Paul's motive.

On Thursday March 3 1983, Paul Freshour was arrested for the attempted murder of Mary Gillespie. He pleaded not guilty and was released on bond to await trial. Paul was ordered not to send any more letters. Soon, Sheriff Radcliffe and others reported receiving empty envelopes with writing scrawled over them. These were not investigated.

In early May 1983, Paul Freshour voluntarily admitted himself to a mental health facility and entered a plea of innocent by reason of insanity. He claimed he was only insane when the booby trap was set. At all other times, he was of sound mind. A court-ordered evaluation found that Paul was fit to stand trial, and one month before the trial began, he withdrew his earlier insanity plea.

Paul publicly denied the sheriff's claim that he had admitted to writing 50 of the letters, saying it was completely untrue. He also said that if he were to set a booby trap to harm someone, he was smart enough to use a gun that couldn't be traced back to him. Paul Freshour's trial began in October 1983. Because he had not been charged with being the Circleville letter writer, he was on trial solely for the attempted murder of Mary Gillespie.

However, 39 letters were ruled as admissible to give context and background to the crime. Because no fingerprints or other physical evidence were ever found on the booby trap, the trial was purely based on circumstantial evidence. It was revealed that rather than take a sample of Paul Freshour's natural handwriting, Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe had given him a letter from the Circleville letter writer and asked him to copy it as closely as possible.

But the sheriff said he'd also dictated excerpts for Paul to write down, and these were the samples that were analysed. A handwriting expert compared paperwork from Paul's workplace to the Circleville letters and believed they were a match. Even a handwriting expert hired by the defence agreed that Paul Freshour was the Circleville letter writer and the author of the sign on the booby trap.

Mary Gillespie testified that she'd never suspected Paul Freshour could be the Circleville letter writer. After all, Paul had tried to help Mary from receiving letters. He was also close to Ron Gillespie and pushed police to view his brother-in-law's death as a murder. But Mary recalled a conversation she had with Paul's ex-wife, Karen, in August 1982.

Karen had seen letters floating in their toilet with handwriting that bore a strong resemblance to the Circleville writer. Paul Freshour's defense team painted him as a rational and innocent man. With a master's degree in industrial management, Paul's writing style was nothing like the misspelled and grammatically incorrect Circleville letters.

He had no prior criminal record and had a well-paying job which he wouldn't risk by trying to kill his former sister-in-law. While the materials used to make the booby trap were found at Paul's workplace, his lawyers argued that these were common and found in every home. Paul said he had taken time off work on the day the trap was found because he was getting work done on his home and needed to be present. Multiple people testified to seeing Paul at his house.

The trial lasted four days. After two and a half hours of deliberation, the jury returned with a verdict. For the attempted murder of Mary Gillespie, Paul Freshour was found guilty. As he listened to the judge sentence him to between seven and 25 years in prison, the look on Paul's face was one of utter shock. After Paul Freshour was sent to prison, everyone assumed that the Circleville letters would stop.

However, soon after he was incarcerated, the town's residents began reporting that they were receiving letters in the all-too-familiar blocky writing. Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe was certain Paul was somehow smuggling the letters out of prison. He ordered Paul to be sent to solitary confinement. His mail was censored and he was strip searched before and after visits.

Sheriff Radcliffe was certain this would stop the letters as there was absolutely no way Paul could send them in these conditions. However, letters continued to trickle in to Circleville residents. They were postmarked from Columbus. Paul was incarcerated in Lima, a city 200 miles away. An internal investigation was held but couldn't explain how Paul was smuggling the letters out.

Sheriff Radcliffe thought a copycat could be responsible, but the similarities between the latest letters and the original ones were startling. In 1990, Paul Freshour became eligible for parole after serving seven years. Prior to his hearing, the writer upped their game, sending more letters than ever before. Despite Paul being a model prisoner, his parole was denied due to the board believing he was behind the letters.

A few days after his hearing, Paul Freshour received his own letter. Postmarked from Columbus, it contained all the hallmarks of the Circleville letter writer. It read: "Freshour, now when are you going to believe you aren't getting out of there? I told you two years ago. When we set 'em up, they stay set up. Don't you listen at all. No one wants you out. No one. The joke is on you.

Haha. Casefile will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. In December 1986, Paul Freshour spoke to a reporter from the Columbus Dispatch from jail. He said...

"I'm not a criminal and I'm not crazy, but I'm a convict now and I don't have much credibility. People tend not to believe convicts." Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe was quoted in the same article as saying: "I think we got the right man. I know what Freshour wants. He's trying to say, 'Look, I'm in prison but the letters have never stopped.' All he wants is publicity."

In 1993, producers of the popular television program Unsolved Mysteries announced their intention to cover the Circleville letter writer. As production was about to begin, a postcard made from manila cardboard arrived at the show's offices. In familiar blocky black lettering were the words: "Forget Circleville, Ohio. Forget Sheriff Radcliffe. If you come to Ohio, you sickos will pay."

The Circleville Writer. The producers ignored the postcard and continued filming as planned. Paul Freshour was eventually paroled from prison after 10 years and appeared on the segment. He staunchly maintained his innocence and urged investigators to look further into the case. Mary Gillespie and Karen Freshour declined to appear on the program. If Paul Freshour was innocent as he had claimed, then the question remained –

Who else could have been the Circleville letter writer? The situation had unfolded from allegations of infidelity between Mary Gillespie and Gordon Massey. Gordon's son William was 19 years old when the letters began, and some were even signed with his name. If William was aware of the alleged affair between his father and Mary, this might have given him a motive.

However, investigators concluded he was most likely being framed by the real culprit. Some have speculated that it was Paul Freshour who was framed. Four months before Mary Gillespie discovered the booby trap, Karen and Paul Freshour divorced. Paul was granted custody of their daughter as well as the family home. Karen moved into a trailer on Mary's property.

had Karen sought revenge against her ex-husband for losing out in their divorce settlement. When Paul was incarcerated, Karen received parental custody and moved back into the home. Journalist and author Martin Yant covered the case extensively and appeared on the Unsolved Mysteries segment. He said that when he reviewed the case files, he found some unreleased information.

Twenty minutes before Mary Gillespie noticed the sign with the trap, another bus driver had driven by the same area. She noticed a yellow El Camino parked in the spot where the sign would be placed. Standing next to the car was a man who turned away as the bus driver passed. He was tall with a heavy build and sandy-coloured hair, in stark contrast to Paul Freshour, who was short with black hair.

It was later revealed that Karen Freshour had a boyfriend who matched this description and drove an El Camino. Whoever the Circleville rider was, they wanted attention brought to Karen Freshour. A letter the elusive rider addressed to Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe in 1983 said: "I set Paul up. I can't hardly live with it." It was signed with the name Karen Freshour.

Following his release from prison, Paul Freshour wrote to the FBI attaching more than 150 pages of evidence that he believed pointed to his innocence. Whoever they were, it was clear that the Circleville writer had inside knowledge about the town's residents. In one letter, the writer accused the county coroner, Dr. Ray Carroll, of molesting children.

Later, in December 1983, Dr. Carroll was charged with a range of offenses, including corruption of a minor and indecent exposure. In August 1980, three years after the Circleville letters started, a 25-year-old Circleville Elementary school teacher named Vicki Koch was reported missing by her family.

There were no signs of forced entry or assault in Vicky's apartment and her car was found a half a mile away, unlocked. A month later, a township worker was mowing an area among cornfields 35 miles north from Vicky's home. They soon stumbled across Vicky's body, wearing the same clothing she was last seen alive in.

Although investigators concluded her death was the result of homicide, they failed to identify a suspect and the case went cold. Soon after Vicky's body was discovered, the Circleville letter writer began sending letters about the case. They claimed that Vicky Koch had been having an affair with a local prosecutor and was pregnant with his baby. The writer accused the prosecutor of killing Vicky to keep the matter quiet.

The writer threatened to dig up a deceased baby's bones and mail them to random people if a thorough investigation into Vicky's murder wasn't completed. The theft of an infant's remains from a local graveyard was reported soon after. Afterwards, letters were delivered to Sheriff Dwight Radcliffe with fine white powder inside. The Circleville writer claimed the powder was the baby's ground-up bones.

but testing revealed it was actually arsenic. Online, rumors abound that the Circleville letter writer was correct in his assertion that Vicky Koch was carrying the prosecutor's child, despite there being no evidence that she was pregnant at all. Others have considered the possibility that Vicky crossed paths with the serial killer that was active in the area at the time. The murder of Vicky Koch remains Circleville's only unsolved homicide.

Paul Freshour died in June 2012 at the age of 70, maintaining his innocence to the very end. Many who knew Paul could not believe he was the Circleville letter writer, describing him as a kind, softly spoken man. More than a thousand letters were received by Circleville residents during the writer's 16-year campaign. The final one ever sent was the one directed at the Unsolved Mysteries producers.

103 postcards and 391 letters were found to match to Paul Freshour's writing. Handwriting experts also linked Paul to the sign on the booby trap. Yet, while some experts believe in the strength of handwriting analysis, others dismiss it as junk science. According to the television series 48 Hours, a dozen letters written while Paul was incarcerated were revealed to have his fingerprints on them.

Investigators never solved how he could have smuggled these letters out of prison.