Elfreda Pike’s Last Walk Home
Content warning:
This is the story of a brutal murder.
On the mild, moonlit evening of January 5, 1870, 16-year-old Elfreda Pike set out from her home in Mosquito (now Bristol’s Hope, Newfoundland) for a brief walk to Harbour Grace. The route over Mosquito Hill was one she knew well, and it was well-travelled, even in the depths of winter.
It promised to be an uneventful outing: a chance to chat, complete a few errands, and return home before the night grew too late. But as shadows lengthened across the frosty road, Elfreda could not have known the terrible fate that lay ahead, waiting to turn her simple walk into a grisly mystery that would still be recalled more than a century and a half later.
Witnesses later recalled seeing Elfreda around 5:30 p.m., walking briskly toward Harbour Grace. She stopped at Mr. Parson’s shop to purchase matches before heading back home along Mosquito Road around 6:30 p.m. This time, she wasn’t alone. A young man walked beside her, though no one could identify him. Those who saw the pair were confident it was Elfreda—but the identity of her companion remained a mystery.
This unnamed man may have been the last person to see Elfreda alive.
The Murder
The exact details of what happened next remain a mystery, but the brutality of the crime is chilling. Somewhere along the road between Mosquito and Harbour Grace, Elfreda was savagely attacked.
Her hat was torn from her head. The killer struck her with a rock, shattering her jaw and knocking her teeth out.
The assault alone may have been enough to end her life, but the killer wasn’t finished.
With a blade, he slashed her throat repeatedly, so ferociously that it seemed he intended to sever her head. Under the silver light of the moon, he dragged her lifeless body from the road and concealed it behind a rock.
A gentle snow began to fall; soft flakes settled over the road and concealed the gruesome scene. The quiet of the night remained undisturbed as the killer slipped away, vanishing into the darkness without a trace. The sleeping community had no inkling of the horror that had unfolded in their midst.
The Next Morning
Early the next morning, a couple returning from an early morning mass at the cathedral in Harbour Grace were the first to notice something amiss. The gentleman hurried past the spot, seeing nothing out of the ordinary but his wife spotted some dark stains.
They were blood, she was sure.
She called her husband back. They stared at the stains in the melting snow — what could have caused so much blood loss, they wondered. Their curiosity turned to dread as they followed the trail and made a shocking discovery: the lifeless body of young Elfreda Pike, hidden behind a rock.
The authorities were alerted immediately, and the local magistrate arrived to assess the scene. The investigation was officially underway, but it would soon prove as cold as the winter morning on which it began.
The Investigation
The people of Mosquito and Harbour Grace were left reeling. Elfreda Pike was well-regarded; as a friendly, kind young woman. The sheer savagery of the murder left the community shaken, desperate for answers.
A coroner’s inquest was held, drawing a crowd so large to the police office that proceedings had to be moved to the courthouse to make room for all interested participants. Despite the public’s concern, the investigation stalled. As the superintendent of police stated, “Suspicion has not assumed definite shape.”
Thomas Pike’s open letter, Harbor Grace Standard, Nov. 22, 1884
Attention turned to identifying the young man seen walking with Elfreda.
People started seeing potential murderers everywhere. Rumours of arrests spread fast. Some suspected that the killer may have escaped to Queenstown, Ireland on a vessel that left port the morning after the killing.
For others, suspicion fell on Elfreda’s cousin, Thomas Pike. He was brought before the inquest but was ultimately acquitted.
Members of the community were not convinced. Facing mounting whispers of guilt, Thomas left Newfoundland for the mainland and then England, though rumours continued to haunt him.
Years later, in an open letter to the local papers, he proclaimed his innocence, warning detractors to be prepared to prove their accusations.
On July 29, 1899 The Evening Telegram summarized the case, supplying some additional information and accusations:
“We now come to one of the most horrible murders of them all, that of Elfrida Pike ... A man was arrested, the knife was found, he made use of certain excuses which were proved incorrect. He was released by Judge Peters and shipped on board the brig Marion Ridley. The crew grumbled at the idea of sailing with him, and be had to be forced on board by police. On arrival at Cork be left the ship in a hurry. On the return of the ship, the captain and crew said he was the man. When the Lady Glover ... was leaving England for Newfoundland, he asked for a passage, and the captain refused to take him. He disappeared, and wrote to the Newfoundland Press that he was coming out to clear his reputation. This was about 14 years ago. The knife is still in the possession of a Justice of the Peace, who would, on his appearance in Newfoundland, arrest him immediately; but he died two or three years ago in a foreign land. ”
So while the judicial system may not have identified a killer, The Evening Telegram had certainly made up its mind. And, though the dates don’t quite work out, did anyone other that Thomas Pike write to the Newfoundland press to assert his innocence?
A Cold Case
From very early in the investigation, the police issued urgent pleas to the public, imploring anyone with information to come forward. To incentivize cooperation, they offered a substantial cash reward of up to $1,600—a staggering sum in the late 1800s, enough to change a family’s fortune. Yet, despite their efforts, no one came forward with evidence or testimony that would lead to a conviction.
In March of 1870, a person of interest was identified but, upon questioning, the lead proved false or as one paper reported, “we are glad to know that there is not the slightest charge, or foundation of a charge, against the man, and that his perfect innocence is clearly established.”
The identity of Elfreda’s killer remained a mystery. The trail grew colder with each passing day, and the brutal murder slipped into the annals of Newfoundland history as one of its most infamous unsolved cases.
A Confession, Decades Later?
More than a century after Elfreda’s murder, an unexpected claim emerged.
In 1982, Newfoundland and Labrador writer Jack Fitzgerald uncovered a letter sent to Joey Smallwood during his time as host of The Barrelman radio program. The letter was written in 1940 by a postal worked from Harbour Grace who claimed that around 1925, while in the line of duty, he intercepted a message concerning the case. It was notice of a deathbed confession from an ex-Harbour Grace police officer, identified as Forsey (1982) or Furey (1999), who had worked on the Pike case.
Smallwood discussed Pike’s murder several times but didn’t publish the contents of the letter. As late as 1942, he said Elfreda Pike’s murderer was “never detected.”
While the supposed confession offers a tantalizing lead, it remains an allegation rather than proof. If true, it reveals an unsettling possibility: one of the men charged with solving Elfreda’s murder may have been her killer all along.
For the full story of the confession, see Jack Fitzgerald’s Too Many Parties, Too Many Pals (1982) and The Hangman is Never Late: Three Centuries of Newfoundland Justice (1999).
Terrible Truths
Deathbed confession or not, the truth is Elfreda Pike’s murderer never had to answer for his crime, and her family never learned the truth surrounding her death.
Elfreda Pike’s murder is heartbreaking, but sadly, it’s not an isolated case in Newfoundland and Labrador’s history. Even today, stories of missing and murdered women still make headlines. And as we move into 2025, it’s hard to say if we’re doing any better at addressing these crimes—or the deeper issues that allow them to happen—than we were back in 1870. It’s a stark reminder that we need to do more than just reflect on these tragedies; we need to push for real change.
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Notes
Elfreda’s name is spelled differently (Elfrida, Elfirda, Alfreda, and more) in various accounts. That made it harder to find her story; I’m sure there’s more info out there hiding under more alternate spellings.
Some accounts describe Thomas Pike as Elfreda’s fiance/boyfriend and make plain there was no family relation. Thomas’ letter states they were cousins. I haven’t uncovered what was going on there:
There may have been more than one Thomas? They may have been both cousins and in a relationship? It might have served Thomas’ purpose to cast her as family (no matter how distant) in his letter? They may just have been cousins, as Thomas writes.
With respect to the confession allegedly intercepted in 1925, I don’t know what happened to the initial information — who received it and what they did with it? How was such an explosive piece of information kept quiet? Obviously numerous people besides the postal worker would have known. Why did it come down to his hearsay, years later?
People may have the answers to these questions — if you’re one of them, feel free to let me know!
Sources & Further Reading
Murder, Daily News, January 8, 1870
The Mosquito Road Murder, Telegraph, January 12, 1970.
History of Bristol’s Hope, R.J. Connolly, 1980
Thomas Pike’s Letter, Harbor Grace Standard, Nov 22, 1884
Rumours, St. John’s Daily News, 1870
Police News, St. John’s Daily News, March 24, 1870
We Notice That…, Time and Commercial Gazette, April 2, 1870
It’s Your Business, Ron Pumphrey, Daily News, June 22, 1982
Reward Offered, Harbor Grace Standard, March 15, 1871
Most Horrible Murders, The Evening Telegram, July 29, 1899
Too Many Parties, Too Many Pals, Jack Fitzgerald, Jesperson Press, 1982
The Hangman is Never Late: Three Centuries of Newfoundland Justice, Jack Fitzgerald, Jesperson Press, 1999.
Barrelman Scripts, January 2-31, 1942
Murder at Mosquito Cove, Patrick Collins, 2013
