The Murder of Helen Jewett: A Sensational Crime That Shaped American Journalism

Born Dorcas Doyen on October 18th, 1813, in Temple, Maine, Helen Jewett’s early life was marked by hardship and reinvention. Orphaned young after her mother’s death between 1820 and 1823, she was placed as a servant in the household of Chief Justice Nathan Weston in Augusta at around age thirteen. There, she received an education uncommon for girls of her station, fostering her love for literature and philosophy. However, scandal struck when, at sixteen, she was discovered in a sexual relationship with a local banker, leading to her dismissal from the Weston home. Sources suggest she may have begun engaging in sex work as a child, though whether by choice or coercion remains unclear in the historical record.

By 1832, at age nineteen, Dorcas had reinvented herself as Helen Jewett—drawing inspiration from Helen of Troy—and relocated to New York City, the epicenter of America’s burgeoning urban vice. She resided at 41 Thomas Street, a brothel operated by Madam Rosina Townsend, where she catered to an elite clientele of merchants, clerks, and professionals. Described as strikingly beautiful with a refined demeanor, Helen was no ordinary sex worker; she was well-read, articulate, and maintained correspondences that revealed her intellectual depth. Her room was adorned with antique furniture, mirrors, valuable paintings, and rare books, reflecting a life of cultivated tastes amid societal stigma. In an era when prostitution was criminalized and taboo, Helen’s boldness made her a figure of both fascination and notoriety.

The events leading to Helen’s death unfolded on the evening of April 9th, 1836. Around nine p.m., a man cloaked against the chill arrived at the brothel, requesting Helen, who was then twenty-three years old. Townsend initially hesitated but recognized him as “Frank Rivers,” a regular visitor, and admitted him. Helen greeted him warmly, calling him “my dear Frank,” and the pair retired to her second-floor room. Later, around eleven p.m., Townsend delivered champagne and saw the man lounging in bed, reading by lamplight.

At approximately three a.m., Townsend was roused by another knock and let in a different client. Noticing an out-of-place lamp in the parlor and the back door ajar—unusual on a stormy night—she grew uneasy. Smoke soon billowed from Helen’s unlocked room. Bursting in with help from residents and a watchman, they found Helen lifeless on her bed, her nightclothes singed, one side of her body charred, and blood pooling from three hatchet wounds to her brow. The bed had been deliberately set afire, but the flames hadn’t spread far. A bloodstained hatchet from a nearby store and a distinctive cloak were discovered in the backyard, along with signs that someone had scaled the whitewashed fence to escape. Helen’s overnight companion was nowhere to be found.

The man known as Frank Rivers was soon identified as Richard P. Robinson, a nineteen-year-old clerk from a respectable Connecticut family. Born in 1818 to wealthy parents, Robinson had moved to New York to work at Joseph Hoxie’s dry goods store on Maiden Lane. He frequented the brothel, initially attached to another woman named Maria Stevens before forming a volatile relationship with Helen, marked by quarrels and reconciliations.

Evidence quickly pointed to Robinson: Townsend confirmed his presence, whitewash stains matched his trousers, and he had recently attempted to buy arsenic under a false name. A witness saw a tall figure in a cloak leaving Helen’s room around the time of the murder. Police arrested him at his Dey Street boardinghouse early on April 10th, where he appeared calm and denied involvement, claiming he had returned home by eleven p.m. When shown Helen’s body, he reportedly remained composed, muttering about his “brilliant prospects.”

The coroner’s jury, convened that day, ruled that Helen died from hatchet blows inflicted by Robinson, based on testimonies and physical evidence.

Robinson’s trial commenced on June 2nd, 1836, at City Hall, drawing massive crowds and intense scrutiny. Prosecutors argued that Robinson killed Helen to silence her, fearing she would expose his past indiscretions, including an alleged role in another woman’s death, which threatened his engagement to a wealthy heiress. Key evidence included the hatchet (linked to Hoxie’s store), the cloak, and eyewitness accounts from brothel residents.

The defense countered with an alibi from Robert Furlong, claiming Robinson was at the store until ten fifteen p.m. The judge, Ogden Edwards, showed bias against the prosecution’s witnesses—prostitutes whose testimonies were dismissed as unreliable due to societal prejudices. After deliberations, the jury acquitted Robinson, sparking public outrage and accusations of jury tampering.

The murder thrust New York into a media storm, with penny presses like the New York Herald, Sun, and Courier and Enquirer vying for scoops. James Gordon Bennett of the Herald personally inspected the crime scene, describing Helen’s “beautiful corpse” in lurid detail and boosting circulation from 2,000 to 15,000 daily. Papers fabricated letters, speculated wildly, and editorialized, often portraying Helen as a tragic victim or fallen woman while vilifying Robinson. This coverage, prioritizing sensation over facts, is credited with birthing tabloid journalism. Out-of-town outlets criticized the hype, calling much of it fabricated.

Post-acquittal, Robinson became reclusive, relocating to Texas where he died young, reportedly morose and haunted. Helen’s murder, with fewer than twenty homicides in New York that year, underscored the city’s growing pains and the perils faced by sex workers.

The case’s enduring impact lies in its role in media history, inaugurating sex-and-death sensationalism and putting a human face on prostitution. It inspired books, like Patricia Cline Cohen’s The Murder of Helen Jewett, and remains a lens into 19th-century morality, urban life, and the power of the press. Despite its infamy at the time, however, it is largely forgotten today, and after Richard Robinson’s acquittal, the murder of Helen Jewett became a cold case, and is still officially unsolved as of 2025.