This story was published in partnership with , a nonprofit newsroom reporting on gender, politics and policy.
Editor's note: This reporting involves sexual violence against children and may not be suitable for all audiences. You can click the red LISTEN button above to hear the audio version of this story, produced by Jackie Harris, with music from Blue Nocturnal, Cauldron, Lillehammer, The Cabinetmaker, Trailhead and Blue Dot Sessions.
Erin Moulton鈥檚 interest in genealogy was casual at first. It started when people began stopping by her desk at the Derry Public Library with questions about the 198-year-old New Hampshire town鈥檚 history or for help looking up their ancestors.
Moulton, 43, soon developed an obsession with solving these history puzzles, chasing a 鈥済eeky鈥� kind of rush.
鈥淚'll go flying through the archives. I'll be diving through the newspapers. I think it's exhilarating,鈥� Moulton said. "It's like overturning treasure 鈥� another clue brings you to another clue brings you to another clue. And the whole story starts to kind of flesh out in front of you.鈥�
Over the years, Moulton has spent many hours tracking down records on a carnival worker, tracing the lives of 19th century women whose recipes she , and digging through archives in search of people whose stories may have otherwise gone unrecognized.
But there was one puzzle Moulton had never tried to solve: a rumor involving her maternal great-grandfather, John Dainty.
鈥淭he rumor was that my great-grandfather had been imprisoned and he took the fall for his son,鈥� Moulton said. 鈥淏ut no one ever really said much more.鈥�
There was another even darker version of the story: that John Dainty may have killed his own daughter, Moulton鈥檚 great-aunt. Sometimes it would come up at family reunions, but none of the living Dainty family members knew what happened or anything about the girl 鈥� not even her name.
Moulton鈥檚 grandfather, Clifford Dainty, was one of the girl鈥檚 brothers. Moulton鈥檚 mother was 11 when he died in 1969, and said he would only say his sister had been in an 鈥渁ccident.鈥� His wife, Moulton鈥檚 grandmother, didn鈥檛 know much more about her.
鈥淚t really was this blank spot in the family tree,鈥� Moulton said.
In 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic temporarily shut down the library where Moulton worked. Instead of making sourdough bread, she decided to get to the bottom of this rumor.
When Moulton finally learned the truth, she unearthed a 100-year-old tragedy, one that echoed today鈥檚 ongoing fights over reproductive rights. Then, she set out to make sure her family鈥檚 story would never be buried again.
A shocking and terrible discovery
Moulton started with the basics, typing 鈥淛ohn Dainty鈥� into Ancestry.com. She found a 1930 census record listing him as an inmate in Wethersfield State Prison in 黑料吃瓜网.
Curious, Moulton dug into local newspaper archives and found John Dainty and his wife, Mary, had both grown up experiencing poverty and abuse in turn-of-the-century New England, a cycle that continued with their own five children; their youngest son was Moulton鈥檚 grandfather. Moulton found records showing the Daintys were hauled into court for not sending their children to school. In one newspaper account, a neighbor told police John Dainty had 鈥渁ssaulted his 9-year-old son.鈥�
Then, Moulton made a more shocking and terrible discovery: On Feb. 22, 1925, a doctor was called to John and Mary Dainty鈥檚 home in New Britain, 黑料吃瓜网, to care for the couple鈥檚 12-year-old daughter, also named Mary. The doctor later testified that John Dainty and Albert Louis Dainty, Mary鈥檚 older brother, were acting tense. Her brother, who was 18 or 19 at the time, 鈥渟creamed out for no apparent reason鈥� during the appointment, according to an account in the New Britain Herald of the doctor鈥檚 trial testimony.
The doctor called the police, saying Mary鈥檚 condition was serious and the circumstances seemed suspicious.
A detective ordered Mary be taken to New Britain General Hospital. She was in shock, going in and out of consciousness. Around midnight on the same day she was admitted, Mary died.
But before her death, Mary had spoken to a doctor and a prosecutor who came to her hospital bed, Moulton discovered in a newspaper鈥檚 account. She told them she had recently been sexually assaulted by her father, her brother Albert Louis, and a 22-year-old family acquaintance named Charles Orvis.
鈥淚t was infuriating and upsetting,鈥� Moulton said. 鈥淚 just really felt like I needed to keep digging to see if I could find Mary a little bit more 鈥� I wanted to see if they were brought to justice at all for their crimes.鈥�
Moulton got a copy of Mary鈥檚 death certificate. While the doctor listed septicemia as her secondary cause of death, he suspected the blood poisoning primarily stemmed from an abortion, illegal in 1920s 黑料吃瓜网.
When Moulton or her mother would send emails to family members sharing what she was learning, some were hesitant to read them.
鈥淚 love history, but when it gets that close sometimes you don't want to know,鈥� said Moulton鈥檚 uncle Jim Dainty, whose wife encouraged him to read what his niece had found. He says he鈥檚 glad he now knows his family history.
But Moulton鈥檚 grandmother, Clifford Dainty鈥檚 wife who died in 2024, decided not to.
鈥淚 don't think she wanted to think about any of it,鈥� Moulton said. 鈥淪he said she stayed up all night worrying about Mary one night and I said 鈥� 鈥榃e don't have to talk about it again.鈥欌��
Moulton was still researching what happened to her great-aunt in 2022 when the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, ending the constitutionally protected right to abortion nationwide. When she learned about the ruling, Moulton says she thought of Mary and other children who may become pregnant because of sexual abuse.
More than 7 million adolescent girls between the ages of 13 and 17 now live in states where abortion is banned, strict gestational limits or have parental involvement requirements before getting an abortion, according to an from the Rutgers School of Public Health; eight of the 18 states with bans or limits for rape and incest.
鈥淭he weight of the power against them is so unfair because of their lack of resources, because of their lack of knowledge, because of their lack of being able to communicate what's going on,鈥� said Moulton. 鈥淚 cannot believe that we would want to create a system in which they have even less power.鈥�
Moulton learned Mary鈥檚 alleged abusers were all arrested in 1925, but only Mary鈥檚 father pleaded guilty to a charge of indecent assault. John Dainty was sentenced to four to 10 years in prison, and the state dropped the charges against Mary鈥檚 older brother and the family acquaintance.
鈥淪o, he gets four years in prison. They get none,鈥� Moulton said. 鈥淎nd I was, at that point, just basically enraged because she, of course, was dead.鈥�
The circumstances of her great-aunt鈥檚 death kept Moulton awake at night. She imagined Mary in her last moments on the hospital bed, how frightened and alone she might have been.
鈥淚 know it鈥檒l happen again,鈥� Moulton said. 鈥淭he same type of scenario.鈥�
'Secrets that shouldn鈥檛 be kept鈥�
Children who die young have short paper trails, but Moulton did manage to learn some details about her great-aunt鈥檚 life.
The autopsy report offered a sketch of what Mary looked like: black bobbed hair, brown eyebrows, and bluish-gray eyes 鈥� similar features to Moulton鈥檚 cousin.
A 1924 New Britain newspaper noted Mary had been a Girl Scout, so Moulton looked up the uniforms she would have worn, the knots she would have known how to tie, the pledge she would have learned.
Still, she wishes she could find more.
鈥淚 wish I knew if she enjoyed certain games or hobbies or types of music. I want to know if she had any good friends or positive experiences in her life, or someone who was really reliable,鈥� she said. 鈥淚 wish I knew any of those things.鈥�
But Moulton did find a lot of information about her great-grandfather, John Dainty. She got a copy of his inmate file from a 黑料吃瓜网 archivist.
When it arrived in the mail, the first thing Moulton found in the file stunned and upset her 鈥� John Dainty鈥檚 inmate photo. It shows a middle-aged man staring, unsmiling, straight into the camera. The right side of his face droops down a little more than his left.
鈥淚 have the same structure on the right side of my face,鈥� Moulton said. 鈥淎nd I don't want to be like him in any way, shape, or form.鈥�
Records show John Dainty got out of prison in 1931, only to return on a parole violation about a year later. In a letter to the prison warden, the parole officer wrote John Dainty鈥檚 wife and children reported he had been "intolerably abusive,鈥� and there was evidence he had likely sexually abused his other daughter, 10-year-old Clara.
After John Dainty went back to prison, Clara wrote to his parole officer from the family鈥檚 new home in Waterbury, 黑料吃瓜网.
In wide, looping cursive, Clara wrote, 鈥淲atch out for him because when he gets out, he will come to Waterbury, find out where we live, and come here and kill us all.鈥�
This note was the last document in John Dainty鈥檚 inmate file. Moulton checked census records and found that John Dainty had gone back to Waterbury when his prison sentence was over in 1933. Clara lived with her parents until John Dainty died in 1948.
鈥淚t definitely was like they never escaped each other until death,鈥� Moulton said.
Moulton made one more important discovery: She found out where Mary was buried, under a patch of grass in a New Britain cemetery in an unmarked grave. In 2023, Moulton and her family raised money to put a headstone there.
鈥淚 hope she knows that someone cared,鈥� Moulton said, her eyes filling with tears, 鈥渆ven if it was 100 years too late.鈥�
In September, Moulton and her relatives returned to New Britain to tend to Mary鈥檚 grave. There, washing the headstone with a gentle brush, was her mother 鈥� Mary Dainty Moulton, the daughter of Mary Dainty鈥檚 youngest brother, Clifford.
As a Catholic, she was told she had been named after the Virgin Mary, but Mary Dainty Moulton was also moved to learn she and her aunt share a name.
鈥淚 was relieved in a way 鈥� in a strange, sick way 鈥� that there was information and history that we could know instead of guessing,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd these are, as we know now, secrets that shouldn't be kept.鈥�
Standing around the headstone with her mother and other relatives besides her, Moulton thanked her living Dainty family members for their endurance through cycles of poverty and abuse 鈥� 鈥渇or not turning out the same way,鈥� she said.
Then, her mother stepped forward, holding a black family Bible, with tabs poking out to mark each book.
鈥淸Mary] gave her life and was not a recognized person, and in recognizing her, I think we gained a lot,鈥� Mary Dainty Moulton said. 鈥淎nd hopefully in recognizing her, we set her free.鈥�
The family bowed their heads and said the Lord's Prayer together.
The headstone in front of them reads 鈥淢ary E. Dainty, August 5th 1912 - February 22nd, 1925.鈥� The Girl Scout鈥檚 emblem is at the top, and on the bottom the family had a message engraved: 鈥淲e love you, and love brings you home.鈥�
