But as more evidence emerged, this picture grew murkier, more complex. If she had been murdered, was someone other than the minister responsible? Could Sarah Cornell have planted evidence against Avery before taking her own life? Who was Sarah Cornell, really? Was she truly a victim, as many would paint her—or did she have secrets and an agenda of her own?

Sarah's story resonated with Catharine Read Arnold Williams, who went on to write America's first widely read true crime book, Fall River: An Authentic Narrative, in 1833. Most true crime aficionados (me included) have long believed that Edmund Pearson's 1924 Studies in Murder was the first true crime narrative in the United States, but that's not the case. True crime narrative had its origins within the pages of Catharine Williams's book. Fall River was "written to convict a murderer in the court of public opinion and published as an Authentic Narrative in 1833 as perhaps the first extensive true crime narrative in the United States," wrote Shirley Samuels in Reading the American Novel, 1780-1865. Catharine Williams, a poet who never intended to be a reporter, had made true crime history.

With her pious character and adherence to the strict social norms of Puritan New England, Catharine seemed an unlikely colleague for me. But her book was an outstanding, deeply investigated narrative of a death that outraged a country.

Catharine penned about two hundred pages in Fall River with the aim of dismantling Reverend Ephraim Avery's defense. Catharine was, I believe, also the first author-advocate for the crime victim, which is an unusual perspective for a true crime author, even today. Her point of view was unflappable: she labeled Avery as the sinner and Cornell, while certainly not a saint, as the imperfect woman who had been victimized by her spiritual guide. He had exploited her recent indoctrination to the church to gain control of her. In contrast to the crass, big-city newspaper articles in which female victims often were said to get what they deserved, Catharine offered Sarah Cornell some crucial sympathy—and in doing so shifted public opinion.

But did Catharine get the facts of the case right all those years ago? Fall River is remarkable in its ability to synthesize a compelling story with accurate details of the crime, social context, and impeccable reporting, like any true crime story should. But in The Sinners All Bow. I'll reexamine Sarah Cornell's death using the tools of a twenty-first-century journalist; I'll evaluate Catharine's evidence and weigh whether her clear biases against Reverend Avery and the Methodists affected her judgment in this case.

The story of Sarah Cornell's death inspired another author in his quest to craft a scathing social commentary. Several scholars believe that Sarah was Nathaniel Hawthorne's inspiration for Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter, among literature's most tragic fallen women. Six years after Sarah's death, Hawthorne referred to the case in his journals after he visited a touring wax display with a scene that depicted the murder in Salem, which was a popular tourist destination in the 1800s. "July 13th—A show of wax-figures, consisting almost wholly of murderers and their victims," Hawthorne wrote in 1838. "E. K. Avery and Cornell—the former a figure in black, leaning on the back of a chair, in the attitude of a clergyman about to pray; an ugly devil, said to be a good likeness." Being featured in a wax exhibit indicated that the person had achieved a certain level of fame or notoriety or infamy. And indeed, the story of the minister and the mill girl gripped the nation. Hawthorne would have certainly known the details of the case—he was an avid reader of popular newspapers. His son, Julian, even called it a "pathetic craving," how he was so consumed by news. Hawthorne even used newspaper copy in some of his own writing.

The Scarlet Letter was published eighteen years after Sarah Cornell's death. Within its pages, Hawthorne unravels the tragedy of a needleworker, Hester Prynne, in Puritan New England. When her adulterous affair is revealed, Hester is forced to wear a scarlet letter "A" as public punishment while raising her daughter, Pearl, and being pursued by her wrathful husband. Hawthorne's work has endured for almost two centuries as an illustration of both penance and perseverance with shades of disdain for the Puritan beliefs of intolerance and public punishment. Once you learn the contours of Sarah's story, the parallels are hard to ignore.

Both Hester and Sarah were seamstresses embracing sexual independence, and these autonomous women frightened provincial New England society, where the patriarchy leveled punitive shame on those who unmoored themselves from a husband. And yet, both Sarah and Hester selflessly shared their gifts, despite the public ridicule that sometimes followed.

"Hester's needlework also enables her to practice charity, for which she, like Cornell, eventually becomes known," wrote Kristin Boudreau, professor of English and the head of the Department of Humanities and Arts at Worcester Polytechnic Institute in England. She wrote a paper called "The 'Scarlet Letter' and the 1833 Murder Trial of the Reverend Ephraim Avery," detailing how Hawthorne drew inspiration for his fabled character by examining the life of Sarah Maria Cornell. "Indeed, whatever their sexual transgressions, both women significantly rehabilitate their characters by performing benevolent acts with apparent humility." We'll see the parallels between Hester Prynne and Sarah Cornell drawn throughout this book.

"Nathaniel Hawthorne's greatest novel owes its inspiration in part to this public discussion of seduction and murder," wrote Boudreau. "Hawthorne's novel is less concerned with Hester's actual crime...than with the people's response to that crime."

The people's response to Cornell's death is the issue in our case: Was the minister guilty of murder? Or the recipient of unwarranted public judgment?

But as more evidence emerged, this picture grew murkier, more complex. If she had been murdered, was someone other than the minister responsible? Could Sarah Cornell have planted evidence against Avery before taking her own life? Who was Sarah Cornell, really? Was she truly a victim, as many would paint her—or did she have secrets and an agenda of her own?

Sarah's story resonated with Catharine Read Arnold Williams, who went on to write America's first widely read true crime book, Fall River: An Authentic Narrative, in 1833. Most true crime aficionados (me included) have long believed that Edmund Pearson's 1924 Studies in Murder was the first true crime narrative in the United States, but that's not the case. True crime narrative had its origins within the pages of Catharine Williams's book. Fall River was "written to convict a murderer in the court of public opinion and published as an Authentic Narrative in 1833 as perhaps the first extensive true crime narrative in the United States," wrote Shirley Samuels in Reading the American Novel, 1780-1865. Catharine Williams, a poet who never intended to be a reporter, had made true crime history.

With her pious character and adherence to the strict social norms of Puritan New England, Catharine seemed an unlikely colleague for me. But her book was an outstanding, deeply investigated narrative of a death that outraged a country.

Catharine penned about two hundred pages in Fall River with the aim of dismantling Reverend Ephraim Avery's defense. Catharine was, I believe, also the first author-advocate for the crime victim, which is an unusual perspective for a true crime author, even today. Her point of view was unflappable: she labeled Avery as the sinner and Cornell, while certainly not a saint, as the imperfect woman who had been victimized by her spiritual guide. He had exploited her recent indoctrination to the church to gain control of her. In contrast to the crass, big-city newspaper articles in which female victims often were said to get what they deserved, Catharine offered Sarah Cornell some crucial sympathy—and in doing so shifted public opinion.

But did Catharine get the facts of the case right all those years ago? Fall River is remarkable in its ability to synthesize a compelling story with accurate details of the crime, social context, and impeccable reporting, like any true crime story should. But in The Sinners All Bow. I'll reexamine Sarah Cornell's death using the tools of a twenty-first-century journalist; I'll evaluate Catharine's evidence and weigh whether her clear biases against Reverend Avery and the Methodists affected her judgment in this case.

The story of Sarah Cornell's death inspired another author in his quest to craft a scathing social commentary. Several scholars believe that Sarah was Nathaniel Hawthorne's inspiration for Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter, among literature's most tragic fallen women. Six years after Sarah's death, Hawthorne referred to the case in his journals after he visited a touring wax display with a scene that depicted the murder in Salem, which was a popular tourist destination in the 1800s. "July 13th—A show of wax-figures, consisting almost wholly of murderers and their victims," Hawthorne wrote in 1838. "E. K. Avery and Cornell—the former a figure in black, leaning on the back of a chair, in the attitude of a clergyman about to pray; an ugly devil, said to be a good likeness." Being featured in a wax exhibit indicated that the person had achieved a certain level of fame or notoriety or infamy. And indeed, the story of the minister and the mill girl gripped the nation. Hawthorne would have certainly known the details of the case—he was an avid reader of popular newspapers. His son, Julian, even called it a "pathetic craving," how he was so consumed by news. Hawthorne even used newspaper copy in some of his own writing.

The Scarlet Letter was published eighteen years after Sarah Cornell's death. Within its pages, Hawthorne unravels the tragedy of a needleworker, Hester Prynne, in Puritan New England. When her adulterous affair is revealed, Hester is forced to wear a scarlet letter "A" as public punishment while raising her daughter, Pearl, and being pursued by her wrathful husband. Hawthorne's work has endured for almost two centuries as an illustration of both penance and perseverance with shades of disdain for the Puritan beliefs of intolerance and public punishment. Once you learn the contours of Sarah's story, the parallels are hard to ignore.

Both Hester and Sarah were seamstresses embracing sexual independence, and these autonomous women frightened provincial New England society, where the patriarchy leveled punitive shame on those who unmoored themselves from a husband. And yet, both Sarah and Hester selflessly shared their gifts, despite the public ridicule that sometimes followed.

"Hester's needlework also enables her to practice charity, for which she, like Cornell, eventually becomes known," wrote Kristin Boudreau, professor of English and the head of the Department of Humanities and Arts at Worcester Polytechnic Institute in England. She wrote a paper called "The 'Scarlet Letter' and the 1833 Murder Trial of the Reverend Ephraim Avery," detailing how Hawthorne drew inspiration for his fabled character by examining the life of Sarah Maria Cornell. "Indeed, whatever their sexual transgressions, both women significantly rehabilitate their characters by performing benevolent acts with apparent humility." We'll see the parallels between Hester Prynne and Sarah Cornell drawn throughout this book.

"Nathaniel Hawthorne's greatest novel owes its inspiration in part to this public discussion of seduction and murder," wrote Boudreau. "Hawthorne's novel is less concerned with Hester's actual crime...than with the people's response to that crime."

The people's response to Cornell's death is the issue in our case: Was the minister guilty of murder? Or the recipient of unwarranted public judgment?