Badgering Bridget

by Sherry Chapman

First published in February/March, 2004, Volume 1, Issue 1, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.

Now We See It

I know, I know. It’s easy to go back after an event has happened and give advice on how things should have been done to achieve more success. But when we look back on the Borden case, there really are things we can now see that could have helped – maybe even solved the murders. One such thing could have been  . . .

The Badgering of Bridget

Was Bridget Sullivan ever a suspect? If she was, it wasn’t for long. Yet she and Lizzie were both at the Second Street house alone on the morning of the murders. Bridget seems to be given only a cursory glance, while Lizzie is hauled off to Taunton.  

One day when a policeman called for Bridget, she didn’t know she was only being taken in for questioning, and she broke down into an emotional wreck. She may have been very close to caving in with some pertinent information. But did the police use this opportunity to question a weakened Bridget? NO! They reassured her that she was not a suspect, and that this was merely routine. If only they had questioned her further that day… leaned on her a bit . . . what might have happened? . . .

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BRIDGET is put in a small, gray, windowless room with a one-way mirror, if they had them back then. A policeman, Officer MEDLEY, holds a kerosene lamp close and blinding.

MEDLEY: And where were YOU on the morning of August 4^th?

BRIDGET: I wuz upstairrs.

MEDLEY: Doing –?

BRIDGET: Cleaning. I wuz cleanin’ my room.

MEDLEY: Then why is it Miss Lizzie Borden says you were up there takin’ a nap before the noon meal? You wouldn’t be tellin’ a falsehood now, would ya?

BRIDGET: I just forgot is all. If you must know, I was upstairs takin’ my mornin’ snooze, cause I stayed out too late drinkin’ booze.

MEDLEY: Don’t get smart with me, Servant Girl. I can lock you up just for bein’ Irish!

BRIDGET: Oh, please, sir! No! No, sir! Please, sir! Please, sir!

MEDLEY: Ah, quit yer whimperin’, ya lousy housemaid.

(Guy in the hall): He got Sullivan in there? She really is a lousy housemaid. Just threw a dipper of water on the window and called it rinsed.

(Enter Cop #2, Officer FEENEY): Now, now, Medley. Don’t go too hard on the young lady. He don’t mean it none, Miss Sullivan. Heh, heh. He’s Irish himself!  There, now. And would you be likin’ some coffee or maybe it’s sarsparilla you be partial to?

BRIDGET: Thank you, kind sirr. I don’t care for enny just at the moment.

MEDLEY: Or maybe some POISONED MILK!

BRIDGET: Oh, no sir! No, sir!

FEENEY: Oh, now look what you went and done. You got her all rattled. (He winks at MEDLEY.) Now, Miss Sullivan –

BRIDGET: YOU (glares at MEDLEY) can call me 

Bridget.

FEENEY: All right. ‘Bridget’ then. Isn’t that a pretty name now? Me own muther was named Bridget. And her mother before her. An’ me wife and daughterr too. Now, Bridget. You know who killed the Bordens. And we do know you know. Someone talked. I’m not at liberty to say who. An’ I’m sure ye’ll feel a good might better if you tell us about it.

BRIDGET: Ummm , I might . . . 

MEDLEY: Or it’s the slammer for you!

BRIDGET: Oh, no sir! No, sir! Please! I got kids in the south end!

BOTH COPS: KIDS?

BRIDGET: Cousins. Cousin kids. Kids that are cousins. Tis all I meant. But they depend on part of my wages. I can’t be locked up!

FEENEY: And why would it be that you’d be locked up, Bridget?

BRIDGET:  I dunno. Just . . . because.

FEENEY: Now, Bridget. We don’t go around lockin’ people up just ‘because’. Why would we lock you up?

BRIDGET: Well . . . 

MEDLEY: She’s got a reason. An’ if she knows what’s good for her she’ll tell us!

BRIDGET: Please, Officer Feeney. Officer Medley, he makes me so nervous. Could I just talk to you?

FEENEY: Well, of course, little lady. I’m sure Officer Medley has many other things to do this morning. (Slightly shakes his head ‘no’ to MEDLEY.)

MEDLEY: I ain’t goin’ nowhere. She talks to both of us, or there’ll be trouble for her to pay!

FEENEY:  I-I’m sorry, Miss Bridget. Twill be all right, tho. I am here. Now, what is it you know, lass?

BRIDGET: I dunno. My head, it’s swimmin’. I’ve got a terrible headache. An’ things have been so hectic lately. People all the time tryin’ to talk to me. I don’t know where to start.

FEENEY: All right, then, Bridget. We’ll take it slow. Would that be all right with you, if we took it slow?

BRIDGET: Yes, sirr. It would be.

FEENEY: Let’s start with getting up in the morning on August 4^th. 

MEDLEY: You did get up that morning, didn’t you?

BRIDGET: Yes, sirr, I did. An’ I was up early, too. I had a sort of a dull headache.  

MEDLEY: You was hung over, you mean.

BRIDGET: I think it was the heat. Twas a scorcher that day was.

MEDLEY: It only got up to 83 that day. Whattya tryin’ to do, start heat wave rumors?

BRIDGET: Oh . . . My attic room was very warrm. And I come downstairs, started up the fire in the stove and took care of some laundry while that was sparkin’. Then I started on breakfast.

FEENEY: And I’ll bet it was a lip-smackin’ meal you prepared, too.

BRIDGET: That mornin’ we had johnny cakes, cookies, mutton broth five days old and cold mutton from the same shank.

(Both officers have repulsive looks on their faces.)

BRIDGET: In about a half an hour, I went out in the yard and retched.

(Both cops nod in understanding.)

MEDLEY: What time did Morse and the Mister and Missus Borden come down?

BRIDGET: They was all up early. Mrs. Borden, she told me she wanted me to wash the windows that day, inside and out.

MEDLEY: And you resented her for it, didn’t you, Miss Sullivan? Resented her enough so that as soon as the others were gone, you came at her in the guest room and hacked her to death with an axe!

BRIDGET: N-no sir. I did no such thing! Mrs. Borrden – I liked her!

FEENEY: Sure and you did, Bridget. Did you notice what they did before settin’ down to the 

mornin’ meal?

BRIDGET: Mr. Borrden, he went out the screen door and let fly his slops out into the yarrd. Says it’s good for the grass and saves money on fertilizer. Well, it ain’t good for the carpetin’ when one of us is out there and drags it back in on our shoes. But try to tell him anything where money’s the subject. 

FEENEY: And that bothered you, his tight-fistedness?

BRIDGET: Yes, sirr, it did. I’ve seen Mrs. Borrden break down and cry because he would not give her money for store-bought water closet paper. An’ he wondered why his backside wuz all the time chafin’ him. Mrs. Borrden, she would buy it out of her own allowance. Never did tell him. We had many a good laugh watchin’ him walk on a particularly bad day. (BRIDGET giggles. FEENEY smiles.)

MEDLEY: And you thought it was funny, didn’t you, Miss Sullivan, that an old man such as Mr. 

Borden was in pain?

BRIDGET: No, sir.

MEDLEY: Maybe you were glad he was in discomfort. Maybe discomfort wasn’t good enough for you. Maybe you would only be satisfied if he were dead!

BRIDGET: Oh, no, sirr. No, sir! I never hated him!

FEENEY: Who was it that you hated then, Bridget?  

BRIDGET: Well, if you ask me that ice cream man coulda stood a knock or two in the head.

FEENEY to MEDLEY: She means Lubinsky. The Russian guy. (To BRIDGET:) And why was that?

BRIDGET: Well, here he is a married man and – I just didn’t care for him is all.  

FEENEY: Why was that?

BRIDGET: He’d hardly ever say anything. Stared an awful lot. One day he asked me if I wanted to try somethin’ called a Tin Roof. Well, I said I didn’t know he was in the buildin’ business.  An’ he just looked at me. (BRIDGET stares ahead with mouth agape.) Like that.

FEENEY: Uh huh. Well, that’s certainly weird if you’re askin’ me.

MEDLEY: Come on, let’s get back on the trolley here. You’re tellin’ us what the household was about the mornin’ of the murders.

BRIDGET: Yes, sirr. Mr. Morse, he came downstairs. 

FEENEY: You saw him come down the stairs?

BRIDGET: With Mr. Morse, you don’t need to see him. You can smell him firrst. And then I served the breakfast, which they all ate heartily of. Then Mr. Morse left. And as he was goin’ Mr. Borrden hollered, “Come back to dinner, John”. I didn’t hear Mr. Morse’s answer, on account of thinkin’ of that mutton makin’ another encore performance at dinnertime made me gag. (gags) Where was I?

FEENEY: You were gagging.

BRIDGET: I know. I’m sorry, sir.

FEENEY: I mean, you said you were gagging at the Borden house when –

BRIDGET: Oh. Then Mr. Borden starts to go out to go downstreet to tend to business. And before he goes he says, “Have a pear, Bridget. They’re good for you.” I looks to the bowl of pears rottin’ on the table and I said, “No thank you, sir. I’d rather have the mutton.” And he says, “Fine. Just make sure there’s enough left for dinner.” (shakes her head)

FEENEY: So he goes downstreet.

BRIDGET: Yes. And by that time I’m dryin’ the dishes up. Mrs. Borrden comes to the kitchen. She’d been dustin’ the downstairs. She says, ‘Bridget. I’m goin’ up to the spare bedroom. I forgot to put the pillow shams on, and I want that room to be all nice and ready before my company comes on Monday. And besides, if Uncle Morse sees fresh linens on the bed, he won’t be spendin’ another night here.’  And Miss Lizzie come down about nine and I barely saw her before I went and cleaned the windows outdoorrs.

MEDLEY: We’re too old for fairy tales, Miss Sullivan. You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?  

BRIDGET: I don’t see what you mean, sirr. 

MEDLEY: You’re lying Get her out of here, Feeney. Take her to the lock-up.  

BRIDGET: I – I’m not lyin’, sirr. (starts to cry) I’m not lyin’. I swear to you by all the saints above.

MEDLEY: This is makin’ me sick. Stay if you can stomach her, Feeney. I can feel my Dinty Moore comin’ up.  (MEDLEY leaves and slams the door, which makes BRIDGET jump.)

FEENEY: There now. No need to be rattled by old Deadly Medley.  

BRIDGET: Is that what you officers call him behind his back?

FEENEY: Of course not. We call him worse things. (BRIDGET laughs.) Now, Bridget. Tell me true. Have you been leavin’ parts out? Important parts?

BRIDGET: Yes. I don’t like that Medley. He didn’t deserve to hear the real story. But you, you’re so nice. I don’t mind tellin’ you what happened.

FEENEY: (swallows and tries not to show excitement) All right. That would be good, Bridget.

BRIDGET: Won’t nothin’ happen to me now, will it?

FEENEY: Well, Bridget. I’m in no position to say much. But I can tell you that if you are completely honest with me, things will go a lot easier for you.

BRIDGET: Good enough. (pauses) All those things did happen, that I just said. Only I left out some parts. 

FEENEY: Such as?

BRIDGET: I only went up to my room to get some hairpins. After all that window washin’ my hair was startin’ to come undone. Miss Lizzie, I think she thought I was gonna be gone for a good while to take my usual nap before the noon meal. But it was too hot up there in my room.

FEENEY: All right.

BRIDGET: I came down the stairs, and I saw Miss Lizzie takin’ an axe to her father as he lay probably already dead on the horsehair sofa.

FEENEY: You’re sure it was Miss Lizzie?  (BRIDGET looks at him like he’s dumb) Okay. Scratch that. You’re sure it was Miss Lizzie. What did she do?

BRIDGET: Well, she didn’t notice me until she was finished. She was goin’ at it with such a frenzy. Twas the first time I’ve seen the girl sweat. Then our eyes met. “Oh, Maggie,” she says to me. “Oh, Maggie.” I says back, “Miss Lizzie. What have you done?” She says, “Don’t come in. I have just killed Father.” 

FEENEY: Weren’t you scared? Did she threaten to kill you?

BRIDGET: I was more shocked than ennything. She thought I was scared, and she says, “Don’t worry, Maggie. I have no reason to harm you.” She told me to help her clean up – that’s why it was so short a time between his killin’ and the call for help. There was the two of us gettin’ rid of the evidence.

FEENEY: Why did you help her clean up?

BRIDGET: (pauses in thought) Because she told me. I was used to takin’ orders from her.

FEENEY: Oh.

BRIDGET: And she said if I didn’t tell anybody she would give me $50,000.

FEENEY: So you didn’t tell anybody.

BRIDGET: Would you?

FEENEY: Are you making me an offer, Miss Bridget? 

BRIDGET: I’m askin’ if you’d tell, is all.

FEENEY: (as if musing aloud) Well . . . if someone offered me half of that amount, I might not.

BRIDGET: $25,000?

FEENEY: Yes.

BRIDGET: All right. We’ll split.

FEENEY: (extends hand) Tis a deal.

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Well, maybe we wouldn’t have known after all.