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The Story of Isham HobbsThe name Isham Hobbs was a familiar one to the people living in the mountains surrounding southeast Huntsville. Some people said he was antisocial and didn’t like people. Others said he was just a natural woodsman who felt more at home in the rugged wilderness than he did in civilized society. Isham David Hobbs was born near the banks of the Tennessee River below Farley in 1917. His family was known as being God-fearing, hard-working farmers whose ancestors had helped settle the area almost a hundred years earlier. As a youth Hobbs developed a fascination with the mountains surrounding his home. With no supplies except for his .22 rifle, he would disappear into the forest for weeks at a time. While still a teenager, he earned the reputation as one of the most skilled woodsmen in this part of the country. A friend later recalled going hunting with Hobbs, “One minute he would be right next to you but when you turned your head he would disappear. It was eerie.” As Hobbs grew older he began spending longer periods of time in the mountains. Often he would disappear for months at a time, sleeping in caves and surviving off of squirrels and rabbits he hunted. The few supplies he needed; ammunition, a pair of pants or maybe some salt, were easily obtained by pilfering nearby homes at the foot of the mountains. Though the pilfering was petty, it still raised the ire of people in the community. A warrant was sworn out and Hobbs was quickly convicted and sentenced to probation. The judge, however, believing a stretch in the military might help Hobbs, released him from probation and allowed him to enlist in the army. Information about his time in the army is sketchy. He was reported to have been an expert rifle shot, extremely shy and a loner who was never at ease around other people. He was also described as a “highly intelligent individual with an overpowering vocabulary, "who hardly ever read a book but when he did, could quote entire pages from memory months later." "All in all," a friend later said, “he just didn't fit in.” In October of 1943, Isham Hobbs deserted from the army and returned to the mountains of Madison County. Although he had family living in the area, he spurned all contact with them and took up residence in a cave at the base of Green Mountain. Salvaging items from trash piles at night, Hobbs soon furnished the cave with bedsprings, dishes and cooking utensils. A fishing rod and a .22 rifle provided much of his food. Many of the mountain families living in the area identified with Hobbs and were only too happy to supply him with extra food and information about the M.P’s who were searching the mountains for him. For them the woods were a way of life and they too were suspicious of “government people poking around.” Hobbs later described this period as “the happiest in my life.” All this was due to change however, during the early morning hours of May 5, 1944 when Sheriff Henry C. Blakemore received a phone call about a homicide that had just taken place. Huntsville, like most small Southern communities in 1944, had its share of homicides. Most of them were caused by family feuds, drinking and an occasional robbery attempt. Normally there was nothing about them to merit headlines for more than a day or two. Blakemore knew this case was going to be different. The murder victim was Mrs. Margaret Thornton Fleming, a member of one of the most prominent families in North Alabama. The Fleming family was reputed to be one of the largest and wealthiest landowners in Madison County. They were heavily involved in Huntsville cultural and social activities and were rumored to have political connections reaching all the way to Washington, D.C. As investigators gathered at the murder scene in south Huntsville they began to patiently reconstruct the events of the night before. Mrs. Fleming had gone to bed shortly before 10 p.m., and the two ladies staying with her retired about thirty minutes later. Around 4 o’clock in the morning one of the women was awakened by the presence of a man in her bedroom who began beating her furiously about the head with a rifle he carried. She began screaming hysterically and within seconds the other women attempted to come to her rescue. During the wild melee that followed, the women attempted to beat the assailant off by hitting him with an iron poker. At one point in the furious struggle, the attacker’s rifle was discharged into the ceiling. Overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the women's defense, the assailant pulled a hunting knife and began slashing about, trying to free himself. By the time the stranger managed to escape, Mrs. Fleming was lying on the floor, dead of multiple stab wounds. The other ladies had suffered cuts, bruises and broken bones. Evidence of the ferocious struggle was easily apparent to the investigators. Overturned furniture, broken lamps, a broken end table and the pool of blood on the floor all bore witness to the violence of the brutal crime. At first the clues seemed meager. There was no sign of forced entry, but further investigation revealed a small hole in one of the screens where an intruder may have used an instrument like an ice pick to unlatch it. The only other clues were the murder weapon, a small fragment of cloth from a jacket, the magazine from a .22 rifle and a cap. It was reported the assailant was about 17 or 18 years old, dark haired and with a very prominent nose. Investigators seemed confident of the ladies’ abilities to identify the murderer. The first break in the case came several days later when a person known only as Mr. X, and who has never been identified, told investigators the cap found at the scene had once belonged to him. Weeks earlier, he told the authorities, he had gone swimming with a friend named Isham Hobbs and had given the cap to him. The identification of Hobbs as a suspect came as a total shock to the community. Though everyone agreed he was eccentric and a loner, no one could imagine him committing a murder. One friend later described him as “being gentle as a lamb - the last person in the world to do harm to someone.” Bloodhounds from Chattanooga, Tennessee were sent for and dispatched to the murder scene. At first the hounds seemed to pick up the trail but as they entered the nearby woods they soon lost it. Sightings of him were reported from all across the county. Skilled woodsmen from all parts of Alabama joined the search, hoping to collect the reward. It was an exercise in futility. The area being combed was larger than Huntsville and the Arsenal combined. A person who grew up in the mountains was quoted as saying, “You ain't gonna catch him until he gets ready. There ain't no one knows these mountains better than Hobbs.” Truer words were never spoken. For the next 17 years legend, folklore and tall tales would all combine to make Hobbs seem invincible. Stories would be told of people meeting him on a mountain trail, carrying a rusty rifle and wearing a long straggly beard. Every time something was misplaced on the nearby farms its disappearance would be blamed on Hobbs. Hobbs was well aware of the manhunt in progress. At the least, if he gave himself up, he would have to face charges of desertion. And as a friend later recalled, “In the charged climate of Huntsville at that time many people thought if he was a deserter he was probably a murderer, too.” For weeks following the murder, he easily evaded law enforcement authorities, often sitting on a bluff while watching the law men search the woods below. At one point he was discovered by bloodhounds, but rather than being the ferocious man-hunters he had imagined, they jumped all over him in their excitement to be petted. Before sending the dogs back down the mountain, Hobbs removed their collars. Hobbs would have been content to stay in the mountains but friends convinced him he had to get away. Three weeks after the murder he was smuggled out of the mountains and carried to Chattanooga where he boarded a bus to Ashville, North Carolina. Using the assumed name of Jack Perry, Hobbs rented a room across from the bus station. For the first few weeks he rarely ventured out of his room but as time passed he began to feel more comfortable in his new surroundings. He worked as a house painter for a short period of time and then got a job on a surveying team. When that job ran out he went to work as an apprentice optical technician. For all outward appearances he seemed to be just another ordinary working man. Night time however, was a time of demons for him. For the past several months he had been having trouble remembering things. It had gotten to the point where sometimes he was not even sure what his real name was or where he was from. Even more terrifying were the mountains surrounding Ashville. Though he had once felt at home in the rugged wilderness, the mountains now represented something dark and evil. It was, as he later said, as if “the mountains were holding a dark secret" he could not remember. The effort of trying to remember caused on constant excruciating headaches accompanied by sickening nausea. The only relief he ever felt was at nighttime when he went to sleep. Hobbs later said that he would often write his name on a piece of paper before going to sleep so he would know who he was when he woke up. In 1947, after almost two years on the run, Hobbs tried to commit suicide. He later spoke of being terrified of demonic memories hidden somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind. “I wanted to know,” he explained, “but I was scared to know at the same time.” Though Hobbs recovered from the suicide attempt, he knew he had to get away from the mountains. They were a constant reminder of something he could not remember, and could not forget. With the few clothes he owned tied on the back of his motorcycle, Hobbs left Ashville, spending the next four months wandering through Tennessee and Georgia before finally settling in Florida. Strangely enough, though the Sheriff’s department and the F.B.I. knew of Hobbs’ possible presence in Ashville, the local authorities were never contacted to look for him. Hobbs undoubtedly harbored a desire to be caught. In Atlanta, he mailed letters in his own name. In Macon, Georgia, when stopped by M.P’s who were suspicious of the military-type shoes he was wearing, Hobbs again gave his own name. Through a bureaucratic blunder, his name did not show up in any records and he was soon released. The farther south Hobbs traveled, away from the mountains, the calmer he became. The demons were still with him and haunted his dreams but in his mind he had forgotten where they had come from. In Bartow, Florida he answered an ad for an optical technician and was immediately hired. After getting a room at a nearby boarding house, his life soon developed into a pattern. Up at 4:30 every morning, two pieces of toast for breakfast and then sit and look out the window until time to go to work. The very qualities that made him a recluse also made him a valued worker. He never complained about pay or working extra hours. One coworker said Hobbs actually enjoyed working late and never seemed to care if he got paid or not. Years later Hobbs was asked how he spent his pay. Pausing for a long moment as if searching his memory, Hobbs finally replied, “I don't know.” After getting off from work at 5:00 p.m., Hobbs would go to a diner two blocks from where he lived and have the blue plate special, at 69 cents, for supper. He always sat in the same place, never talked to anyone, ate his dinner and after leaving a nickel tip, would go back to his room at a near-by boarding house. There he would sit and look out the window waiting for darkness to fall, or as he said later, “waiting to die.” A psychiatrist later described Hobbs as “an atheist with no sense of smell or taste; a person who did not smoke or drink and had never been intimate with a woman; a person who never had any fun and had nothing to live for." Adding to his emotional turmoil was not knowing who he was. By this time he was suffering from complete amnesia. His memory had been sporadic for years, but now he no longer could remember where he was from, his real name or even his relatives. The only thing that stayed with him were the demons that returned to haunt him night after night. In November 1960, Hobbs, no longer able to cope with the nightmares or the loneliness, tried to commit suicide once again by smothering himself with a plastic bag. The landlord of the rooming house discovered him a few minutes later and called the police and an ambulance. Though he quickly recovered at the hospital, the police’s curiosity was aroused when they ran a background check and discovered no one by the name that Hobbs was using existed. The police asked Hobbs to consent to fingerprinting - a request he eagerly agreed to. Within hours the police had an answer: Isham D. Hobbs, deserter from the United States Army and wanted for murder in Madison County, Alabama. The news that Isham Hobbs had been captured in Florida hit Huntsville like a bombshell. Almost 17 years had passed since the murder and most people only had vague memories of it. Many people who remembered Hobbs believed he was still living in the mountains and had supposedly been sighted many times by hunters and hikers. As recently as 1960, a helicopter had been shot at near Green Mountain and people had automatically blamed it on Hobbs. Before Hobbs could be returned to Huntsville to stand trial for murder he had to face charges of desertion from the military. He was sent to Eglin Air Force Base and confined to the psychiatric ward where a team of 11 psychiatrists examined him. The doctors’reports were unanimous. Hobbs was suffering from complete amnesia and had no desire to live in his present state. This posed a dilemma for the military authorities. Hobbs could not be tried for desertion if he was not competent, and if he was released without being charged he would be eligible for seventeen years back pay, a sum amounting to almost $70,000. In a move that would be debated in psychiatric journals for years, the doctors sedated Hobbs with heavy doses of drugs and used the murder charges to jog his memory. After extensive prodding he finally confessed to the murder and signed a written confession. Many doctors would later question whether Hobbs actually remembered the crime or whether it was implanted in his mind. Later, when questioned about details of the confession, Hobbs would have trouble remembering what he had said. In his confession, Hobbs said he had gone to the Fleming house to steal a shotgun but when he saw the woman lying in bed, decided to knock her in the head and carry her back to the cave. No one ever questioned him as to how he expected to carry an unconscious woman five miles across the mountains at night time in the midst of a pouring rain. Three months later, by a split decision, the doctors ruled that Hobbs’ memory had been mostly restored and that he was competent to be tried. He was presented with a “less than honorable” discharge and turned over to the Alabama authorities to stand trial for murder. Sheriff L. D. Walls and Deputy Earl Frazier traveled to Florida to bring Hobbs back. Frazier later described Hobbs as “a loner, though eager to please and extremely intelligent.” On the way back from Florida, as they were crossing Monte Sano Mountain, Hobbs told how years earlier he had ridden his motorcycle from Florida to that very spot on Monte Sano and had stood for hours staring at the city of Huntsville in the valley below. He had no idea why, he said. After being returned to Huntsville, Hobbs agreed to show the authorities where he had hidden out on Green Mountain, seventeen years earlier. Handcuffed and accompanied by Deputy Sheriff Joe Cobb, he led the way to an isolated and overgrown spot near the base of the mountain where, after a few minutes searching an opening to a small cave was revealed. Inside the cave were the few remnants of his life in the mountains; a rusted .22 rifle and telescopic sight, bedsprings, an ax blade and a fishing rod. Stacked against a wall of the cave, as if waiting for someone to return and prepare a meal, were numerous jars and rusty tin cans. Hobbs sat on a nearby rock and watched silently as his belongings were recovered from the cave. At one point he remarked, almost as if he was talking to himself, “I could have stayed up here for 17 years and you fellows would have never caught me.” Regardless of the military’s decision, there were many people in Huntsville who questioned Hobbs’ competence to stand trial. On May 23, 1961 the Circuit Court ruled that Hobbs should be transported to Birmingham and be examined by another psychiatrist. Two weeks later Dr. Frank Keys, a noted Birmingham psychiatrist, ruled that Hobbs was sane, though “borderline and possessing a schizophrenic personality.” The doctor further stated that, “Hobbs would probably commit suicide if released and the question remaining is whether he should be placed in an institution.” With the question of Hobbs’ sanity established the case should have been a foregone conclusion. It wasn't. The mysterious “Mr. X” who had stated 17 years earlier that he had given Hobbs the cap found at the murder scene now changed his story and denied ever owning the hat. He still swore that he had been swimming with Hobbs and his sister two weeks prior to the murder but when the sister was interrogated in North Carolina she offered convincing proof that she had not seen her brother since 1943. Exhaustive lie detector tests given to Mr. X proved inconclusive. Mr. X’s testimony was crucial to the prosecution as he was the only person who saw Hobbs in Madison County at the time of the murder. Though everyone assumed Hobbs was hiding in the mountains, no one had actually admitted seeing him. When the case went to trial on June 20, 1961, James Baker, Hobbs’ defense attorney, entered a plea of not guilty by insanity. Reminding the jurors there was no evidence to connect Hobbs with the murder except that of a confession obtained during a “drugged state,” he pleaded with them to examine the facts. He also reminded them that although the women who had been attacked the night of the murder had known Hobbs, they were still unable to identify him. Macon Weaver, the prosecutor, asked the jury to sentence Hobbs to life imprisonment. Pointing to Hobbs sitting at the table he declared, “This boy would be happy to be institutionalized. The most cruel and inhumane thing you can do is to tell him to walk out that door. Where is he going to go to? What is he going to do?” “Life imprisonment,” Weaver continued, “would be as much compassion as punishment.” After deliberating for over six hours the jury reported back to Judge Parsons that they were hopelessly deadlocked. Hobbs expressed disappointment at the verdict, stating that if he was not sentenced to the electric chair he would kill himself. A retrial was held September 13 in Judge Parsons courtroom with Thomas Younger replacing Macon Weaver as prosecutor. The trial was much like the previous one, with the same witnesses being called and the same evidence presented. The only surprise came when Younger called one of the female victims to the stand and asked her to identify a 1943 photograph of Hobbs. In a low voice that carried all across the courtroom, the woman identified the photo as a picture of the person who had attacked her. In seventeen years this was the only time identification of Hobbs had ever been made. Later when asked why the photo had not been showned during the first trial, Younger pointed out that he was not the prosecutor in that trial. After deliberating for a little over two hours, the jury found Isham Hobbs guilty of first degree murder and sentenced him to life imprisonment. Isham Hobbs, though disappointed at not receiving the death penalty, expressed happiness at the prospect of being locked up for the rest of his life. As Hobbs was being led away following the verdict, he paused briefly in front of Thomas Younger, the prosecutor. After eyeing Younger carefully, Hobbs told him, “Thanks.” Startled by Hobbs’ comment and not used to people he prosecuted offering thanks, Younger asked what he meant. “Now I don't have to worry,” Hobbs replied. “I don't have to worry about getting out, looking for work or trying to make a living.” Isham David Hobbs died in 1969 of stomach cancer while serving a life sentence at Kilby Penitentiary. Although it has been over a half century since thThe Story of Isham Hobbs The name Isham Hobbs was a familiar one to the people living in the mountains surrounding southeast Huntsville. Some people said he was antisocial and didn’t like people. Others said he was just a natural woodsman who felt more at home in the rugged wilderness than he did in civilized society. Isham David Hobbs was born near the banks of the Tennessee River below Farley in 1917. His family was known as being God-fearing, hard-working farmers whose ancestors had helped settle the area almost a hundred years earlier. As a youth Hobbs developed a fascination with the mountains surrounding his home. With no supplies except for his .22 rifle, he would disappear into the forest for weeks at a time. While still a teenager, he earned the reputation as one of the most skilled woodsmen in this part of the country. A friend later recalled going hunting with Hobbs, “One minute he would be right next to you but when you turned your head he would disappear. It was eerie.” As Hobbs grew older he began spending longer periods of time in the mountains. Often he would disappear for months at a time, sleeping in caves and surviving off of squirrels and rabbits he hunted. The few supplies he needed; ammunition, a pair of pants or maybe some salt, were easily obtained by pilfering nearby homes at the foot of the mountains. Though the pilfering was petty, it still raised the ire of people in the community. A warrant was sworn out and Hobbs was quickly convicted and sentenced to probation. The judge, however, believing a stretch in the military might help Hobbs, released him from probation and allowed him to enlist in the army. Information about his time in the army is sketchy. He was reported to have been an expert rifle shot, extremely shy and a loner who was never at ease around other people. He was also described as a “highly intelligent individual with an overpowering vocabulary, "who hardly ever read a book but when he did, could quote entire pages from memory months later." "All in all," a friend later said, “he just didn't fit in.” In October of 1943, Isham Hobbs deserted from the army and returned to the mountains of Madison County. Although he had family living in the area, he spurned all contact with them and took up residence in a cave at the base of Green Mountain. Salvaging items from trash piles at night, Hobbs soon furnished the cave with bedsprings, dishes and cooking utensils. A fishing rod and a .22 rifle provided much of his food. Many of the mountain families living in the area identified with Hobbs and were only too happy to supply him with extra food and information about the M.P’s who were searching the mountains for him. For them the woods were a way of life and they too were suspicious of “government people poking around.” Hobbs later described this period as “the happiest in my life.” All this was due to change however, during the early morning hours of May 5, 1944 when Sheriff Henry C. Blakemore received a phone call about a homicide that had just taken place. Huntsville, like most small Southern communities in 1944, had its share of homicides. Most of them were caused by family feuds, drinking and an occasional robbery attempt. Normally there was nothing about them to merit headlines for more than a day or two. Blakemore knew this case was going to be different. The murder victim was Mrs. Margaret Thornton Fleming, a member of one of the most prominent families in North Alabama. The Fleming family was reputed to be one of the largest and wealthiest landowners in Madison County. They were heavily involved in Huntsville cultural and social activities and were rumored to have political connections reaching all the way to Washington, D.C. As investigators gathered at the murder scene in south Huntsville they began to patiently reconstruct the events of the night before. Mrs. Fleming had gone to bed shortly before 10 p.m., and the two ladies staying with her retired about thirty minutes later. Around 4 o’clock in the morning one of the women was awakened by the presence of a man in her bedroom who began beating her furiously about the head with a rifle he carried. She began screaming hysterically and within seconds the other women attempted to come to her rescue. During the wild melee that followed, the women attempted to beat the assailant off by hitting him with an iron poker. At one point in the furious struggle, the attacker’s rifle was discharged into the ceiling. Overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the women's defense, the assailant pulled a hunting knife and began slashing about, trying to free himself. By the time the stranger managed to escape, Mrs. Fleming was lying on the floor, dead of multiple stab wounds. The other ladies had suffered cuts, bruises and broken bones. Evidence of the ferocious struggle was easily apparent to the investigators. Overturned furniture, broken lamps, a broken end table and the pool of blood on the floor all bore witness to the violence of the brutal crime. At first the clues seemed meager. There was no sign of forced entry, but further investigation revealed a small hole in one of the screens where an intruder may have used an instrument like an ice pick to unlatch it. The only other clues were the murder weapon, a small fragment of cloth from a jacket, the magazine from a .22 rifle and a cap. It was reported the assailant was about 17 or 18 years old, dark haired and with a very prominent nose. Investigators seemed confident of the ladies’ abilities to identify the murderer. The first break in the case came several days later when a person known only as Mr. X, and who has never been identified, told investigators the cap found at the scene had once belonged to him. Weeks earlier, he told the authorities, he had gone swimming with a friend named Isham Hobbs and had given the cap to him. The identification of Hobbs as a suspect came as a total shock to the community. Though everyone agreed he was eccentric and a loner, no one could imagine him committing a murder. One friend later described him as “being gentle as a lamb - the last person in the world to do harm to someone.” Bloodhounds from Chattanooga, Tennessee were sent for and dispatched to the murder scene. At first the hounds seemed to pick up the trail but as they entered the nearby woods they soon lost it. Sightings of him were reported from all across the county. Skilled woodsmen from all parts of Alabama joined the search, hoping to collect the reward. It was an exercise in futility. The area being combed was larger than Huntsville and the Arsenal combined. A person who grew up in the mountains was quoted as saying, “You ain't gonna catch him until he gets ready. There ain't no one knows these mountains better than Hobbs.” Truer words were never spoken. For the next 17 years legend, folklore and tall tales would all combine to make Hobbs seem invincible. Stories would be told of people meeting him on a mountain trail, carrying a rusty rifle and wearing a long straggly beard. Every time something was misplaced on the nearby farms its disappearance would be blamed on Hobbs. Hobbs was well aware of the manhunt in progress. At the least, if he gave himself up, he would have to face charges of desertion. And as a friend later recalled, “In the charged climate of Huntsville at that time many people thought if he was a deserter he was probably a murderer, too.” For weeks following the murder, he easily evaded law enforcement authorities, often sitting on a bluff while watching the law men search the woods below. At one point he was discovered by bloodhounds, but rather than being the ferocious man-hunters he had imagined, they jumped all over him in their excitement to be petted. Before sending the dogs back down the mountain, Hobbs removed their collars. Hobbs would have been content to stay in the mountains but friends convinced him he had to get away. Three weeks after the murder he was smuggled out of the mountains and carried to Chattanooga where he boarded a bus to Ashville, North Carolina. Using the assumed name of Jack Perry, Hobbs rented a room across from the bus station. For the first few weeks he rarely ventured out of his room but as time passed he began to feel more comfortable in his new surroundings. He worked as a house painter for a short period of time and then got a job on a surveying team. When that job ran out he went to work as an apprentice optical technician. For all outward appearances he seemed to be just another ordinary working man. Night time however, was a time of demons for him. For the past several months he had been having trouble remembering things. It had gotten to the point where sometimes he was not even sure what his real name was or where he was from. Even more terrifying were the mountains surrounding Ashville. Though he had once felt at home in the rugged wilderness, the mountains now represented something dark and evil. It was, as he later said, as if “the mountains were holding a dark secret" he could not remember. The effort of trying to remember caused on constant excruciating headaches accompanied by sickening nausea. The only relief he ever felt was at nighttime when he went to sleep. Hobbs later said that he would often write his name on a piece of paper before going to sleep so he would know who he was when he woke up. In 1947, after almost two years on the run, Hobbs tried to commit suicide. He later spoke of being terrified of demonic memories hidden somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind. “I wanted to know,” he explained, “but I was scared to know at the same time.” Though Hobbs recovered from the suicide attempt, he knew he had to get away from the mountains. They were a constant reminder of something he could not remember, and could not forget. With the few clothes he owned tied on the back of his motorcycle, Hobbs left Ashville, spending the next four months wandering through Tennessee and Georgia before finally settling in Florida. Strangely enough, though the Sheriff’s department and the F.B.I. knew of Hobbs’ possible presence in Ashville, the local authorities were never contacted to look for him. Hobbs undoubtedly harbored a desire to be caught. In Atlanta, he mailed letters in his own name. In Macon, Georgia, when stopped by M.P’s who were suspicious of the military-type shoes he was wearing, Hobbs again gave his own name. Through a bureaucratic blunder, his name did not show up in any records and he was soon released. The farther south Hobbs traveled, away from the mountains, the calmer he became. The demons were still with him and haunted his dreams but in his mind he had forgotten where they had come from. In Bartow, Florida he answered an ad for an optical technician and was immediately hired. After getting a room at a nearby boarding house, his life soon developed into a pattern. Up at 4:30 every morning, two pieces of toast for breakfast and then sit and look out the window until time to go to work. The very qualities that made him a recluse also made him a valued worker. He never complained about pay or working extra hours. One coworker said Hobbs actually enjoyed working late and never seemed to care if he got paid or not. Years later Hobbs was asked how he spent his pay. Pausing for a long moment as if searching his memory, Hobbs finally replied, “I don't know.” After getting off from work at 5:00 p.m., Hobbs would go to a diner two blocks from where he lived and have the blue plate special, at 69 cents, for supper. He always sat in the same place, never talked to anyone, ate his dinner and after leaving a nickel tip, would go back to his room at a near-by boarding house. There he would sit and look out the window waiting for darkness to fall, or as he said later, “waiting to die.” A psychiatrist later described Hobbs as “an atheist with no sense of smell or taste; a person who did not smoke or drink and had never been intimate with a woman; a person who never had any fun and had nothing to live for." Adding to his emotional turmoil was not knowing who he was. By this time he was suffering from complete amnesia. His memory had been sporadic for years, but now he no longer could remember where he was from, his real name or even his relatives. The only thing that stayed with him were the demons that returned to haunt him night after night. In November 1960, Hobbs, no longer able to cope with the nightmares or the loneliness, tried to commit suicide once again by smothering himself with a plastic bag. The landlord of the rooming house discovered him a few minutes later and called the police and an ambulance. Though he quickly recovered at the hospital, the police’s curiosity was aroused when they ran a background check and discovered no one by the name that Hobbs was using existed. The police asked Hobbs to consent to fingerprinting - a request he eagerly agreed to. Within hours the police had an answer: Isham D. Hobbs, deserter from the United States Army and wanted for murder in Madison County, Alabama. The news that Isham Hobbs had been captured in Florida hit Huntsville like a bombshell. Almost 17 years had passed since the murder and most people only had vague memories of it. Many people who remembered Hobbs believed he was still living in the mountains and had supposedly been sighted many times by hunters and hikers. As recently as 1960, a helicopter had been shot at near Green Mountain and people had automatically blamed it on Hobbs. Before Hobbs could be returned to Huntsville to stand trial for murder he had to face charges of desertion from the military. He was sent to Eglin Air Force Base and confined to the psychiatric ward where a team of 11 psychiatrists examined him. The doctors’reports were unanimous. Hobbs was suffering from complete amnesia and had no desire to live in his present state. This posed a dilemma for the military authorities. Hobbs could not be tried for desertion if he was not competent, and if he was released without being charged he would be eligible for seventeen years back pay, a sum amounting to almost $70,000. In a move that would be debated in psychiatric journals for years, the doctors sedated Hobbs with heavy doses of drugs and used the murder charges to jog his memory. After extensive prodding he finally confessed to the murder and signed a written confession. Many doctors would later question whether Hobbs actually remembered the crime or whether it was implanted in his mind. Later, when questioned about details of the confession, Hobbs would have trouble remembering what he had said. In his confession, Hobbs said he had gone to the Fleming house to steal a shotgun but when he saw the woman lying in bed, decided to knock her in the head and carry her back to the cave. No one ever questioned him as to how he expected to carry an unconscious woman five miles across the mountains at night time in the midst of a pouring rain. Three months later, by a split decision, the doctors ruled that Hobbs’ memory had been mostly restored and that he was competent to be tried. He was presented with a “less than honorable” discharge and turned over to the Alabama authorities to stand trial for murder. Sheriff L. D. Walls and Deputy Earl Frazier traveled to Florida to bring Hobbs back. Frazier later described Hobbs as “a loner, though eager to please and extremely intelligent.” On the way back from Florida, as they were crossing Monte Sano Mountain, Hobbs told how years earlier he had ridden his motorcycle from Florida to that very spot on Monte Sano and had stood for hours staring at the city of Huntsville in the valley below. He had no idea why, he said. After being returned to Huntsville, Hobbs agreed to show the authorities where he had hidden out on Green Mountain, seventeen years earlier. Handcuffed and accompanied by Deputy Sheriff Joe Cobb, he led the way to an isolated and overgrown spot near the base of the mountain where, after a few minutes searching an opening to a small cave was revealed. Inside the cave were the few remnants of his life in the mountains; a rusted .22 rifle and telescopic sight, bedsprings, an ax blade and a fishing rod. Stacked against a wall of the cave, as if waiting for someone to return and prepare a meal, were numerous jars and rusty tin cans. Hobbs sat on a nearby rock and watched silently as his belongings were recovered from the cave. At one point he remarked, almost as if he was talking to himself, “I could have stayed up here for 17 years and you fellows would have never caught me.” Regardless of the military’s decision, there were many people in Huntsville who questioned Hobbs’ competence to stand trial. On May 23, 1961 the Circuit Court ruled that Hobbs should be transported to Birmingham and be examined by another psychiatrist. Two weeks later Dr. Frank Keys, a noted Birmingham psychiatrist, ruled that Hobbs was sane, though “borderline and possessing a schizophrenic personality.” The doctor further stated that, “Hobbs would probably commit suicide if released and the question remaining is whether he should be placed in an institution.” With the question of Hobbs’ sanity established the case should have been a foregone conclusion. It wasn't. The mysterious “Mr. X” who had stated 17 years earlier that he had given Hobbs the cap found at the murder scene now changed his story and denied ever owning the hat. He still swore that he had been swimming with Hobbs and his sister two weeks prior to the murder but when the sister was interrogated in North Carolina she offered convincing proof that she had not seen her brother since 1943. Exhaustive lie detector tests given to Mr. X proved inconclusive. Mr. X’s testimony was crucial to the prosecution as he was the only person who saw Hobbs in Madison County at the time of the murder. Though everyone assumed Hobbs was hiding in the mountains, no one had actually admitted seeing him. When the case went to trial on June 20, 1961, James Baker, Hobbs’ defense attorney, entered a plea of not guilty by insanity. Reminding the jurors there was no evidence to connect Hobbs with the murder except that of a confession obtained during a “drugged state,” he pleaded with them to examine the facts. He also reminded them that although the women who had been attacked the night of the murder had known Hobbs, they were still unable to identify him. Macon Weaver, the prosecutor, asked the jury to sentence Hobbs to life imprisonment. Pointing to Hobbs sitting at the table he declared, “This boy would be happy to be institutionalized. The most cruel and inhumane thing you can do is to tell him to walk out that door. Where is he going to go to? What is he going to do?” “Life imprisonment,” Weaver continued, “would be as much compassion as punishment.” After deliberating for over six hours the jury reported back to Judge Parsons that they were hopelessly deadlocked. Hobbs expressed disappointment at the verdict, stating that if he was not sentenced to the electric chair he would kill himself. A retrial was held September 13 in Judge Parsons courtroom with Thomas Younger replacing Macon Weaver as prosecutor. The trial was much like the previous one, with the same witnesses being called and the same evidence presented. The only surprise came when Younger called one of the female victims to the stand and asked her to identify a 1943 photograph of Hobbs. In a low voice that carried all across the courtroom, the woman identified the photo as a picture of the person who had attacked her. In seventeen years this was the only time identification of Hobbs had ever been made. Later when asked why the photo had not been showned during the first trial, Younger pointed out that he was not the prosecutor in that trial. After deliberating for a little over two hours, the jury found Isham Hobbs guilty of first degree murder and sentenced him to life imprisonment. Isham Hobbs, though disappointed at not receiving the death penalty, expressed happiness at the prospect of being locked up for the rest of his life. As Hobbs was being led away following the verdict, he paused briefly in front of Thomas Younger, the prosecutor. After eyeing Younger carefully, Hobbs told him, “Thanks.” Startled by Hobbs’ comment and not used to people he prosecuted offering thanks, Younger asked what he meant. “Now I don't have to worry,” Hobbs replied. “I don't have to worry about getting out, looking for work or trying to make a living.” Isham David Hobbs died in 1969 of stomach cancer while serving a life sentence at Kilby Penitentiary. Although it has been over a half century since the murder, questions are still being debated. Was the man whom people described as “gentle” really a cruel murderer? Who was the mysterious “Mr. X” who fingered Hobbs as a suspect? Why did Mr. X change his story years later? Was Hobbs really insane? Why did it take seventeen years before his photograph could be identified? No one will probably ever know. e murder, questions are still being debated. Was the man whom people described as “gentle” really a cruel murderer? Who was the mysterious “Mr. X” who fingered Hobbs as a suspect? Why did Mr. X change his story years later? Was Hobbs really insane? Why did it take seventeen years before his photograph could be identified? No one will probably ever know. |
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