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There was a time when we welcomed change, when we bounded through piles of golden leaves and relished the chill in the air.
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On the morning of June 23rd, 1958, Edith Downe closed the door behind her as she left the home that she shared with her husband, Dennis. Their modest home was nestled in the woods off a sleepy two-lane country road. That summer morning, the sun fought against an unseasonal chill that had settled in overnight.
Edith had a busy day ahead of her at the grocery store that she and Dennis had recently purchased in downtown Portland, Maine. Though Dennis and Edith were both in their early 60s, they still possessed the energy necessary to run Emerson's Market, the enterprise they had purchased just five months prior. They were still settling into their new rhythm of life.
Since they both worked the floor, it wasn't unusual for one or the other to cover the morning shift while their spouse joined them later in the afternoon. Edith planned to see him later that day when he was scheduled to relieve her at Emerson's. She began the 10-mile trek, heading south to Portland from their home in Falmouth, Maine.
She may have heard his restful breathing as she quietly departed, or perhaps they rose together with the sun, which crested the horizon early that morning at 5 a.m. While we don't know all the details of Edith's final morning with her husband, we do know that when she left at 7.30 a.m., she wouldn't see her husband alive again. Around 9.30, Edith called home, but no one answered.
The phone rang and rang in a house that was, in a manner of speaking, already empty. Dennis Downe was born in England in 1894 to parents James Henry Charles Downe and Jane Hawker Downe.
As a boy, he celebrated the dawning of a new century that would be filled with modern wonders. Dennis' childhood coincided with the invention of the electric light switch, the first wireless transmission, and the rise of the automobile. These years also ushered in an era of unrest across the nation of Europe. Dennis would have been about 18 at the onset of the Great War, a war we now know as World War I.
We know that by 1917, around the age of 21, he had enlisted with the Winnipeg Grenadiers, an infantry battalion of the CEF, the Canadian Expeditionary Forces, which were based in England. They were part of the British Army, and as an Englishman, Dennis was free to join their ranks. Over the next two years, he served in England, France, Belgium, and Germany.
The battlefields of World War I were a nightmarish landscape of new weaponry, trench warfare, and disease. Dennis doubtlessly encountered many horrors during his time in the field.
Perhaps these memories inspired him to seek a fresh start after the war. In 1919, Dennis crossed the Atlantic and began a new life in Maine, and it was there that he met and married a fellow Englishwoman and expat named Edith Stiddle, who was just one month older. Maybe she was charmed by Dennis' accent, which reminded her of her parents' own Cambridgeshire inflections. Maybe she liked that he had already seen the world at its worst.
and was ready for a more peaceful existence. The couple soon married, both of them in their late 20s, and on January 28, 1920, they welcomed their only child, a son they named Gordon. By the 1930s, they were living in Portland, and Dennis was working as a sign painter at the John Nissen Baking Company, just three miles from their home on Edgewood Avenue.
Dennis had an artistic side and beautiful penmanship, as evidenced on the elegantly curling script on his U.S. alien registration card. You can see a photo of it at MurderSheTold.com. Nissen was a large bakery with a busy storefront and broad distribution across New England, making it a reliable employer during the Great Depression. As Dennis grew older, he joined a veteran support group called the Canadian Legion and a local chapter of the Masons.
He and Edith watched their son Gordon grow up, and with a mix of terror and pride, saw Gordon enlist with the United States Air Force in 1942. He returned to them safely at the conclusion of World War II in the fall of 1945.
With the two wars behind them and an empty house, Dennis and Edith felt that it was time for a new chapter. They moved to the neighboring town of Falmouth, where they found on Wyndham Road their forever home, a modest two-bedroom house in the woods a short drive from the city. Dennis quit his job at Nissan in 1956 after more than 20 years at the company. The following year, he and his wife were thrilled to welcome a new addition to the family, a grandson named Daniel.
In 1958, the couple purchased and became proprietors of Emerson's Market, a grocery store in Portland's Munjoy Hill neighborhood. Dennis was described as a very fine man and a pleasant storekeeper who interacted well with the children who frequented his market. This is where we find Dennis on that chilly June morning, a man who had just become a new grandfather and a shopkeeper, spending more time than ever with his English wife.
He was a healthy and vibrant 63-year-old man who was looking forward to the golden years of his life.
When Dennis didn't answer the phone around 9.30 a.m., Edith didn't think much of it. But as the hours of the day passed, the sun reached its pinnacle and then began to fall. Shadows grew long on the market floor. Three o'clock came and there was still no word from Dennis, who was due to take the next shift at the store. It was unlike her husband not to follow through with plans. Edith grew concerned and then frightened. He was not a young man anymore.
What if he had hurt himself and couldn't call for help? Late in the afternoon, Edith called her son, Gordon. Edith asked if he would go to the house and check in on his father. Around 5.30 p.m., Gordon arrived at his parents' home on Wyndham Road and found the front door locked. His father's car was in the driveway. An uneasy feeling crept over him. He checked the other entrances. There was no way in.
After calling repeatedly for his father, he decided to break in. He forced his way in through the rear cellar door. He ascended the basement stairs, passed through the kitchen, and headed to the nearby bedroom door, perhaps not even noticing the drop of blood eyeing him from the floor. When he entered the bedroom, the scene that greeted Gordon was one of blood and violence.
Though media reports disagreed about the details, they were consistent on one thing. Dennis Downe had been brutally murdered in his home.
Some stated that Gordon found his father sprawled across the bloodied bed. Others depicted him as propped up against the wall with his feet facing the bed. Details of Dennis' body, his clothing, the weapons used to take his life, these have all become muddied across time and retelling. What remains in the narrative with absolute clarity is the blood.
Dennis's body was clad in pajama bottoms and two layers of shirts, an undershirt and a dress shirt, as if he had been interrupted in the process of getting dressed that morning. Blood stained each of these garments. Gordon saw that his father's face and head had been savagely beaten. The sheets, stripped from the mattress, were also soaked in blood. Red streaks were drying in wild splashes across the white plaster walls and bedroom door.
Still, more blood pooled on the floor near a bureau. An oval-shaped hole dented one wall, as if someone had been thrown into it or a heavy instrument had struck it. In a state of shock, Gordon called the police. By a quarter past six, the house on Wyndham Road was no longer a home but a crime scene. Its rooms and yard were crawling with uniformed officers, crime scene technicians, and several local reporters.
detectives scoured the house for evidence. In the bed, officers discovered two knives, one of which was broken, and a monkey wrench, a heavy tool often used by plumbers made of solid steel and weighing more than 20 pounds. As a weapon, it would have been formidable. The home itself had not been ransacked, though Dennis' wallet, typically kept in his jacket pocket, was nowhere to be found.
Among the first on the scene was medical examiner G. Herman Derry. He estimated that Dennis had been dead for several hours before his discovery. There is a lot of controversy about how accurately a time of death can be determined. A medical examiner can only make an educated guess based on a number of factors. For example, the temperature of a body, its state of decomposition, and the influence of the environment.
Dr. Derry could not determine at the scene if Dennis had succumbed to the stab wounds in his chest and back or the blunt force trauma to his head. The police puzzled over the locked front door. From pictures of the house, it seems like there were multiple entrances into the home. We know that Gordon had to break into the basement, so it stands to reason that all the doors on the ground level were locked.
We don't know what kind of locks the Downs would have had. It might be the type that was a deadbolt that's keyed on the exterior and could be turned from the interior, or it could be the type that was keyed on both sides. In addition, there may have been a lock on the knob itself with a little button that can be turned to lock the door from the inside. It's unclear whether or not the killer would have needed a key to lock up when they left.
The savagery of the crime also left the investigators perplexed about motive. The beating, the multiple knife wounds, the evidence of a fight, it seemed personal. One officer on the scene, State Trooper Stephen Regina, noted of the killer, he was sure mad about something. I've never seen anything so brutal in my life. Surely one wallet didn't warrant this type of violence.
The police worked well into the night, searching the downed home from top to bottom. At the scene that evening were a reporter and a photographer from the Portland Press-Herald. They had heard about the killing by chance.
While they had been cautioned against taking pictures inside the downed home, they did capture a photograph of the exterior of the house with a uniformed officer conversing with a detective in a suit. They stood in the gravel driveway. Shrubs and flowers in bloom around them. The windows of the little white house were dark. Behind the home, the evening sky was blotted out by a line of dark foreboding trees.
It was only after dawn, upon the arrival of Philip Wheeler, a special homicide agent from the Attorney General's office, that Dennis' body, which had remained through the night as it was discovered, was finally moved onto a gurney and taken to Maine Medical Center in Portland.
The initial investigation team consisted of the Falmouth PD, the AG's office, the Cumberland County DA's office, Maine State Police, and the Medical Examiner's office. They worked together to secure and process the crime scene and to build a preliminary assessment of what happened on Wyndham Road.
At noon on Tuesday, June 24th, members of the local police departments and the district attorney's office held the first of several closed-door meetings in Cumberland County Courthouse in Portland. The clerks were given, quote, strict instructions not to interrupt the meeting under any circumstance.
The Portland Evening Express later reported that an attractive young woman was called into the meeting room at one point, but police refused to identify her or her relationship to the case.
That afternoon, an autopsy of Dennis' body took place at Maine Medical Center, conducted by Franklin Ferguson. He believed that Dennis had died between the hours of 7.30 and 10 a.m., after Edith had gone for the day but before her first call home. Dr. Ferguson found that Dennis had four stab wounds in his back and chest, including one in his upper torso that punctured his lung.
But the medical examiner believed that the blunt force impact to his skull was his ultimate cause of death. State police crime lab technicians in Augusta were already at work examining the two small kitchen knives and the monkey wrench found in the bedroom.
The three days following Dennis' murder were a flurry of activity as police in Falmouth and the surrounding towns began detaining anyone who appeared suspicious. Maine in the summer has always been a popular place for people passing through vacation land, whether they be tourists, travelers, or those who might have been dubbed as vagabonds or vagrants in the 1950s.
On Tuesday afternoon, police interviewed three individuals, including a married couple rumored to have been friendly with Dennis.
Later that evening, a young man was arrested for breaking into a home in Auburn, a town 20 miles from the down home. Another man, picked up in Auburn for vagrancy, was questioned after it was reported that he was seen in the North Falmouth area on Monday. Given the rapid-fire series of arrests and media reports, the residents of Cumberland County must have seen murder in the eyes of every stranger on the street.
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Dennis had now been gone for two days, and investigators had finally returned the little white house to the family. Carried on the momentum of arrests made the previous day, police decided to narrow their suspect pool by making use of a relatively new piece of technology, the polygraph. Often referred to as a lie detector test, various early prototypes of the polygraph were developed throughout the Victorian era and early 1900s.
However, the modern device, which records muscular activity and changes in a subject's respiration and blood pressure, was only created in 1945.
It had only been in use for a little over a decade by the time police were investigating Dennis' murder. While it is still used by many law enforcement agencies today, the polygraph is a controversial device. Medically speaking, there are no physical indicators that can prove a person is lying. While there are guidelines for the line of questioning used during a test, questionnaires
Questions may be asked in a way that elevates a subject's nervousness, creating false indications of deception. Furthermore, the interpretation of the person's physical responses is subjective, the opinion of the examiner. Today, polygraph tests are admissible in court in only 18 states. They haven't been admissible in Maine since 1954. But police would have been eager to use the new technology as an investigative tool.
The trio from Portland, including the couple who were acquaintances of Dennis, were taken to Concord, New Hampshire, the location of the nearest functional polygraph machine. State Trooper Regina told reporters that the results were inconclusive and might need to be repeated.
A source close to the case told the Portland Evening Express that the preliminary results indicated that the trio may be holding something back which might have a bearing on the case. The source added, We know something is troubling them. We just don't know what. It's unclear from news reports and the limited police records we have whether or not the couple was polygraphed again.
Meanwhile, the young man arrested for vagrancy in Auburn the day before was officially questioned as a suspect in Dennis' murder. Shortly after his arrival at the jail, his clothing was removed and sent away to be chemically tested for blood. When the results came back negative and his alibi checked out, Auburn police released him.
Later that day, a 15-year-old boy carrying a sheathed knife was brought in for questioning by Westbrook police. Someone had reported that they'd seen him in the Westbrook-Gorham area on the day of the murder. The boy's clothes were stained with blood, which he claimed came from a cut on his hand. He also said that he was home during the time of the attack. On Thursday, the investigation continued with a canvassing of the neighborhood surrounding Dennis and Edith's home, called Blackstrap.
This included stopping and talking with motorists passing through on their morning commute. One witness indicated that they had seen a strange vehicle parked on Wyndham Road on the morning of the killing. Stretched for resources, Falmouth and state police asked their colleagues in Portland to join the investigation.
Thursday was also the day of the funeral. In the early afternoon, Edith, Gordon, and Dennis' friends and loved ones gathered at St. Luke's Cathedral in Portland, a substantial Gothic building with tall, narrow windows built with large graystone blocks. It's set back from the road, a circle driveway separating it from a busy state street in downtown Portland.
The sea breeze swept the smell of salt and fish from the harbor, just blocks away. After the Catholic service, Dennis' body was taken to Pine Grove Cemetery in Falmouth, where it sat atop a hill on a small peninsula, jutting into Casco Bay.
On Friday morning, just four days after Dennis' death, Edith and Gordon arrived at the offices of Cumberland County District Attorney Arthur Chapman. Gordon was asked to wait in a separate office while his mother was questioned by Chapman, his assistant, and various members of the investigative team. No outside counsel or attendees were permitted into the room. Gordon's interview came later that afternoon when he was asked to return to the courthouse.
While the surviving Down family was being questioned, a team of nine wardens from the Department of Inland Fisheries and Game searched a two-mile square area of field and woods near the family's home for items that may have been discarded as the murderer fled. Their reasoning was that anyone fleeing by foot would almost certainly have been covered in Dennis' blood and would have needed to shed their clothing before encountering anyone in public.
Unfortunately, the search was mostly unsuccessful, though one warden told members of the press that it had turned up a couple of little things that might be of value. On Sunday, Gordon and Edith were asked to take polygraphs as well. Due to their emotional states, earlier in the week, police had not wanted to jeopardize the results of the test.
Chapman claimed that the authorities didn't believe that the widow or her son were serious suspects in the case, but added, "...we're taking advantage of all the scientific methods to eliminate the possibilities we find." The results of Edith and Gordon's polygraphs eradicated any lingering doubts the police may have had about their involvement in their loved one's death. Cleared of suspicion, Edith returned to the remnants of her life and the home that she had once shared with her husband.
The early momentum of the investigation diminished with the passage of time and the elimination of suspects. The parade of vagrants and housebreakers detained during the week after Dennis' death were ruled out one by one, as alibis were confirmed.
1958's cold June gave way to a mild July. Communication between police and local journalists was open during the first week of the investigation, but these exchanges began to dry up along with Leeds.
Falmouth, Portland, and state police continued to hold closed-door meetings with the county attorney's office, but refused to release any new developments in the case. They never disclosed the results of the forensic testing done on the weapons found at the crime scene.
A new lead stirred some excitement among the team on Tuesday, July 1st, about a week after the crime, when a deputy discovered a pair of trousers, shoes, and a jacket on the shore of Sebago Lake Canal in Wyndham. The pants and jacket had dark stains that the deputy thought might be blood.
Both items were sent to the forensic lab for analysis. But after interviewing the neighbors, the sheriff's office came to believe that the clothing may have been left by someone who had attended a party the night before. The police were running out of straws to grasp. They circled back to the employees at the bakery with whom Dennis had worked and the residents of the Munjoy Hill neighborhood where Emerson's Market was located. Every angle was explored.
One investigator reflected that the only other case as baffling as the down-killing was the kidnapping and murder of a young boy four years prior.
Twelve-year-old Danny Woods departed his home in Gray, Maine with his fishing rod over his shoulder. Just minutes later, the bespectacled boy used a payphone to tell his mother that a stranger had offered him a job selling magazines. He was going with him to Lewiston to make some house calls for a whopping 50 cents per hour. It was weeks before Danny's body was found in the Little Androscoggin River in Auburn, about 15 miles away from where he disappeared.
To this day, his case remains unsolved. Perhaps it was the sting of Danny's unresolved murder that police felt as they pressed forward seeking Dennis' killer. On Sunday, July 20th, nearly a month after the murder of Dennis Downe, a young woman's pajama-clad body was found in Highland Lake Cottage, just a mile and a half from where Dennis had been killed.
29-year-old Marguerite Stevens had apparently taken her own life by plunging a knife into her throat. Because of the highly unusual manner of suicide and because of the proximity to Dennis' murder, police ordered an autopsy.
Desperation drove police to explore any possible connection between Danny's abduction, Marguerite's suicide, and Dennis' murder. After just a month, they were no wiser as to who killed the grocer or why. His murder seemed simultaneously both a senseless act of violence and a targeted attack.
Maybe if records had been better preserved, we would know what theories investigators entertained. Most of that information is lost to memory and time. I'd like to consider a scenario of what may have happened.
Co-workers at Nissen Bakery claimed that it wasn't unusual for Dennis to carry as much as $1,900 with him as he worked, nearly $20,000 in current value. Perhaps he thought that the safest place for his savings was on his person. After all, he lived through the stock market crash of 1929 and the Great Depression throughout most of his 30s.
He was a kind man by all accounts, maybe even the type of generous person who would help out an acquaintance in need by peeling some bills from his wallet. And maybe that caught someone's attention, someone who didn't know he had dropped his habit of carrying cash since buying the market. I suspect that June 23rd, 1958, was not the first time that the killers watched Edith Downe leave her home on Wyndham Road.
I can imagine that the sun rose over the dense tree drops as they waited in their vehicle on the weedy edge of the two-lane country road. They saw Edith's vehicle emerge from the tall hedges that surrounded the property and turn toward Portland for her shift at the market. They turned their faces away, just in case she spared a glance in their direction. Just a pair of travelers consulting a map or adjusting the radio.
After a minute, the driver turned on the ignition and crept up the downed driveway. The intruders slipped in through the unlocked side door with kitchen knives in their hands. They hoped to catch Dennis unaware, perhaps even still sleeping. But as the door shut and their footsteps crept over the wooden floors, Dennis called out, asking what his wife had forgotten. The intruders shared a glance but made no reply. It was time to move quickly.
The house was small and locating the bedroom was easy. They pushed the door open on a half-dressed and utterly shocked Dennis down. Shouting ensued. They were demanding money. They knew he had carried a bloated wallet around town, but Dennis protested that he no longer kept that kind of cash on him. It happened quickly, in the tight space between the door and the bed.
After a short altercation, Dennis made a move to escape, and one of the intruders plunged a knife into his back. After that, the second man was upon him. That the older man fought back was written in blood across the door and the wall of the bedroom. He stumbled forward, falling onto the bed, and one of the knives broke at the hilt.
The killers recognized that things had gone badly. The old man was still alive, but he had seen their faces and heard their voices. One of them retreated to the kitchen where they picked up a monkey wrench from its perch on the counter. They returned to the bedroom, unaware that they had left a tiny splotch of blood on the floor behind them. Dennis may have been cognizant or he may have slipped into unconsciousness. Hopefully, he never saw the heavy tool raised high overhead.
Afterwards, the killer looked around the room and spotted Dennis' coat, thrown casually over a chair. They searched the pockets and found his wallet with $50. Also in the jacket was a key, presumably to the house. This could be useful. They knew that his wife wouldn't return home until later in the day. By locking the door, maybe they could delay an early discovery by a nosy neighbor or anyone dropping by to check in.
Back outside, one of the killers jogged to the end of the driveway, looking both ways down the road, while the other turned the key in the lock. They got in the car, still trembling with adrenaline, and backed down the driveway. In a cloud of summer dust, they drove off into whatever awaited them that day and into anonymity.
Maybe somewhere there is a key growing a green patina of age at the back of a crowded drawer or rusting at the bottom of a pond. If found, it would open a lock that has long since been replaced on a house that no longer belongs to the Downs.
Life went on for Edith and her son Gordon for many years. They lived to the ages of 98 and 95, respectively. While we don't know much about Edith's time without Dennis, Gordon's obituary reflects a rich community and family life. Like his father, he was active in the Masons and the church. In their later years, he and his wife relocated to his senior's RV park in Lake Wales, Florida.
The warm weather must have been a welcome respite from a lifetime of New England winters. Perhaps, though, on unseasonably cold summer days, his thoughts turned to Maine and the little white house on Wyndham Road. Dennis Down's case went cold, and that was how it stayed. Years passed, people passed, and memories faded with time.
At the end of the summer of 1987, Sergeant David Lyons of the Maine State Police received a call from an officer with the Cumberland County Sheriff's Office. The nature of the call was both business and personal. The man's name was Daniel Down, and he wanted to discuss the murder of his grandfather. Nearly 30 years before, Sergeant Lyons spoke with Daniel, or Dan, as he was called.
The case was technically open since it was unsolved. However, despite extensive efforts and collaboration among regional law enforcement, the person who had stabbed and bludgeoned Dennis down had never been caught. It was entirely likely that the culprit or culprits were themselves dead or of advanced age. Still, Dan was a fellow officer, and the case was in their jurisdiction.
Sergeant Lyons asked a young police officer with a Wyndham PD to follow up, Officer Jeffrey Smith, who was new to Wyndham, having just been hired that month. He was from Cumberland County and had worked with the Falmouth PD for the last six years, so he would probably be familiar with the area, if not the case itself.
Over the month of September, Officer Smith reviewed records of the case. He met with U.S. Marshal Jordan Emery, who had worked the case as a Maine State Trooper, and with a former county prosecutor, Arthur Chapman. He pored over the assessments of the polygraphs taken in 1958 and the newspaper articles covering the investigation. Smith even looked into the records of two individuals arrested on drug trafficking charges in the 80s at the request of Dan Downe.
Neither of these leads panned out. Dan also requested the opportunity to review the case records himself, which was denied. In April of 1988, Officer Smith recommended to the Attorney General's office that the case be officially closed as, quote, all investigative leads had been exhausted.
After a brief flicker of life, Dennis Downs' case went cold again. And this is where it remains today. Cold, unsolved, enclosed. Dennis, six decades in his grave in Pine Grove Cemetery, has never gotten justice for his brutal death.
His grandson, Dan, retired in 2017 after a 30-year law enforcement career with Cumberland County. He spends his retirement working on his house on Sebago Lake and driving his motorcycle down the same country roads his grandfather's killer probably drove. He has no answers. Though we tried, we were unable to reach Dan by the time of production. But Dan, if you're listening, we're still very interested to talk.
In 2015, the Maine State Legislature approved the creation of the Unsolved Homicide Unit, tasked with investigating any and all unresolved homicides in the state. Their motto, semper memento, is Latin for always remember. The list of the state's unsolved murders is 75 victims deep, beginning with the 1954 murder of Danny Wood. But nowhere on that list is Dennis down. ♪♪
Thank you so much for listening. I'm so grateful that you're here and I couldn't do this without you. If you want to support the show or buy me a coffee, there's a link in the show notes with options. Telling a friend and recommending on social media is also a great way to support. A detailed list of sources and photos from this episode can be found at MurderSheTold.com. Thank you to Morgan Hamilton for her writing and Byron Willis and Erica Pierce for their research. A special thanks to Michelle Soulier for her support.
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