Three Dead Before Dawn: The Hardy Family Murders

The Hardy family

Raymond Hardy was days away from getting married when he walked into his family’s farmhouse and found his life blown apart.

His mother lay dead on the couch. His brother was sprawled on the kitchen floor. Before the night was over, his father would be found beaten to death in the barn. Three people were gone. The house was quiet. Whoever had done it was already gone—or so it seemed.

Raymond called for help, grabbed a shotgun, and searched the house in case the killer was still there. Then he waited.

Within hours, Raymond Hardy became the prime suspect.

The case against him was thin, centered on where he hung his hat, and why there was blood on it. Where a revolver turned up, and how much money he had in his pockets. For Raymond, those details became a matter of life and death. If the county attorney convinced a jury, he would hang.

The Hardys lived on a rented farm. Money was tight, but not desperate. Still, investigators believed greed might be the motive. With his parents and brother out of the picture, Raymond would inherit the livestock, chickens, and equipment. It wasn’t land, but it was something. He was nineteen years old and due to be married in three days.

One of the first things authorities seized on was Raymond’s gray hat. It was spattered with blood. When asked how it got there, Raymond gave different explanations.

Raymond Hardy

He told Deputy Sheriff Nason he hung it on the south wall above the sofa. It must have fallen onto the bloody couch. That explanation didn’t hold up. When Nason examined the wall, there was no hook and no sign there’d ever been one.

Later, Raymond told the county attorney that he hung the hat on the east wall of the dining room, above the head of the couch. It somehow fell onto a blood-soaked pillow next to his mother’s head. That made little sense either. The sofa sat two feet from the wall. The hat would have had to travel.

Then there was the revolver.

Raymond told Deputy Nason his brother Earl kept a gun in a holster in the downstairs closet. When the deputy checked, he found the holster—but no gun. Later that same day, the revolver appeared in Raymond’s suitcase upstairs, under his bed.

Raymond said the gun wasn’t Earl’s. They owned matching revolvers. He kept his in his suitcase. The killer must have taken Earl’s.

The newspapers were blunt. Either Raymond Hardy was innocent, or he was far more calculating than anyone believed possible.

The day before his wedding, County Attorney Egermayer questioned him for nearly three hours. Raymond stayed calm. He answered every question, and never lost his temper. Hardy denied having any knowledge of who killed his family.

Raymond said the trouble began the day before the murders.

On Sunday, he and his father noticed a horse in the barn that was already saddled and bridled. It seemed out of place. Investigators found the saddle in the harness room, covered in dust, with no fingerprints. That raised eyebrows.

Other than that, Sunday passed quietly. He read, napped, and ate lunch around one o’clock. That evening, he helped his father and brother with chores—feeding livestock and milking cows. When they stayed behind to finish up, Raymond went back to the house.

Around eight or eight-thirty, he cleaned up and left to visit his fiancée, Mabel Starnes. His mother was sitting in the kitchen by the window. His father and brother were still in the barn.

Raymond left the Starnes home after midnight.

When he returned, he put the horse and buggy away and entered the house through the dining room. He struck a match to light the lamp. That’s when he saw his mother lying on the couch.

Raymond’s emotions were vague. No shock or fear. Just an attempt to get help. He called the neighbors on the party line, then grabbed a shotgun and searched the house.

His brother Earl was dead on the kitchen floor. He reached down and touched Earl’s hand. It was cold. Dead cold. He checked his mother’s hand. It was cold too.

Raymond called the sheriff.

He took off his hat and hung it on the wall. Then he went out on the porch and walked around the yard, shotgun in hand. At that point, two members of his family were dead. His father was missing. Raymond didn’t go looking for him. Instead, he paced the yard.

Mabel Starnes

Neighbors Ernest Toedt and Ginder Pischel arrived and began searching the property. They found James Hardy dead on the barn floor near the milk pails.

Sheriff A. A. Nicholson arrived just after 3:30 a.m. The scene was ugly. All three victims had been beaten with a blunt instrument. Each skull had been struck at least six times. There was blood everywhere.

The house showed signs of disturbance. Coats and caps lay on the floor. Drawers in the front bedroom were pulled out. It looked like a robbery—or someone trying to make it look like one.

More troubling details emerged.

Investigators found a pair of bloody overalls hidden in a suitcase in Raymond’s room. He said the stains were chicken blood. He hid them because he was afraid they would be used against him.

They also found a promissory note for $1,000, payable to Raymond and signed by his father and brother. When questioned, Raymond admitted the note was a forgery. A joke or prank.

A coroner’s inquest was held in Melbourne, Iowa. The jury concluded the three Hardys were killed by an unknown person using a blunt instrument. They made no recommendation to hold Raymond. The jurors said he told a “well-connected, truthful story.”

The sheriff wasn’t convinced.

Raymond Hardy remained locked in the Marshalltown jail from June 6 to June 22.

Fourteen witnesses testified at the inquest, including Raymond and his fiancée. Raymond’s testimony raised additional concerns. Despite earlier detailed statements, he could not recall what he did after finding his mother’s body, saying everything was “all mixed up,” like in a dream.

He remembered touching her hand, and contacting the doctor and sheriff, but couldn’t say what came first. The house appeared roughed up, but he didn’t give specifics.

Neighbors disagreed about his behavior. A woman said he sounded frantic on the phone. Her husband said Raymond didn’t seem excited.

The men who searched the barn said Raymond went first, holding his rifle. When he found his father’s body, he simply remarked, “Oh! Here you are.” He didn’t appear shaken.

Everyone commented on his calmness.

During questioning, Raymond leaned back in his chair and smoked his pipe.

The doctors could not fix the time of death. Rigor mortis was advanced. The victims had likely been dead at least five hours, possibly longer.

During a second search of Raymond’s room, investigators found a watch and the bloody overalls again—then discovered they were missing. Raymond denied moving them, then later said he hid them behind a bicycle and suitcase in his brother’s room.

Early on June 7, Raymond was found face down in his cell, bleeding slightly from the nose and unconscious. Newspapers hinted at suicide. The sheriff and the doctor disagreed. They believed it was stress or a fainting spell. When Raymond regained consciousness, he complained of a severe headache.

On June 22, a short newspaper notice announced Raymond Hardy had been released from jail.

He married Mabel Starnes that August.

Life went on. By World War I, they had three children. Raymond sought a draft exemption to care for his family. Decades later, they died quietly, long after the case faded.

No one was ever convicted for the murders of the Hardy family.

The farm went silent. The questions stayed.

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