Diamond in the Rough: The Murder of Bessie Moore

INTRO

Hey everyone. Welcome back.

Late one evening in February 1877, in the bustling city of Cincinnati, Ohio, a man was found lying in a pool of his own blood - barely clinging to life, with a discarded pistol by his side. He was rushed into surgery, where doctors removed a bullet from his right eye socket. The slug had flattened on impact with his skull, but somehow, he survived.

When investigators asked what happened, his story shifted. First, he claimed he’d been attacked. Then he admitted it might’ve been an accident. But the mystery only deepened from there.

While looking into the shooting, authorities discovered this wasn’t just a random gunshot victim—he was a wanted man, tied to a gruesome murder over a thousand miles away in Texas.

The murder trial of Bessie Moore—better known as Diamond Bessie—was filled with intrigue, innuendo, and scandal. It raised questions about power, privilege, and justice, and became one of the first major murder trials in Texas history.

So this week, I’m diving into the murder of Diamond Bessie. What really happened? Why did this case capture so much attention? And how is her memory still honored today?

Grab your cup of coffee, peeps. Let’s do this.

A word of warning as we begin:  this story has plenty of drama, there are a lot of discrepancies within the research material; I have tried to piece together the story the best I could with what I had access to. Now, let’s dive in.  

Before she was known as Diamond Bessie she was Anne Stone, born in 1854 in Syracuse, New York. Her father was a successful shoe dealer, and by all accounts, she came from a respectable middle-class family. But somewhere along the way, her life took a dramatic turn. At just fifteen, she became involved with an older man. She followed her heart and left home, only for the relationship to fizzle. Whether embarrassed about the relationship’s failure or a result of a broken relationship with her father, Anne did not return home. Instead, Anne assumed her former suitor’s last name, Moore, and started going by her childhood nickname Bessie as she began moving from city to city, often working in brothels, sometimes using her beauty and charm to survive. She was known to collect jewelry as a form of payment for her services, amassing quite the collection that she was unafraid of showing off. It was in this world where Bessie would meet the man who would ultimately be charged with her murder - twice. 

Abraham Rothschild came from a very different world. Born in 1855, just a year after Bessie, Abe was the eldest son of Maier and Rosa Rothschild—an influential family in Cincinnati. His father owned both a jewelry store and a bank, and the Rothschild name carried real weight in the city’s social and business circles. Abe worked as a traveling salesman for the family jewelry business, and on the surface, he seemed like a young man set up for success. But behind closed doors, the picture wasn’t so shiny. Abe had a reputation for gambling, drinking, and chasing women. Eventually, those habits put enough strain on his family ties that he was cut off financially. There is some debate as to the exact cause of the break in Abe’s relationship with his father. Some theorize it was the result of Abe’s excessive drinking and gambling habits, while others suggest it might have been a direct result of Abe’s relationship with Bessie. 

As for where that relationship began? That part’s also a little murky. Some accounts say they met in Cincinnati. Others place the first meeting in Hot Springs, Arkansas—or even Detroit. But what most sources agree on is that they met in a brothel, and that their connection was immediate. Abe was flashy, charming, and quick with promises. Bessie, for her part, had a sharp mind and knew how to read a room and was likely enchanted by Abe’s family jewelry business. It didn’t take long before they were traveling together, presenting themselves as husband and wife. Whether they were ever legally married is still up for debate—some records suggest a possible union in Illinois—but what is clear is that their relationship was intense… and increasingly toxic.

In January of 1877, Abraham Rothschild and Bessie Moore arrived in East Texas. They checked into the Old Capitol Hotel in Marshall on the 17th and stayed for two nights before continuing on to Jefferson. There, on January 19th, Abe registered at the Brooks House under the name “A. Moore,” and noted he was traveling with his wife. The couple didn’t exactly blend in. Bessie was striking: elegantly dressed and proudly wearing her expensive jewelry including one diamond ring said to be worth more than 10,000 in dollars —and they quickly caught the attention of locals. On Sunday, January 21st, they were seen purchasing two lunches at Henrique’s Restaurant. Later that day, several witnesses reported seeing the pair walking together through town, crossing a bridge, and heading toward a wooded area on the outskirts. It looked like a picnic—quiet, ordinary, and no cause for alarm. But only Abe came back.

When people asked where his wife had gone, Abe’s answers didn’t quite add up. First, he said she was having dinner with friends. Then he said she was visiting them and staying overnight. No one in town could confirm either story. And within a few days, Abe left Jefferson alone, taking Bessie’s trunk with him. For a while, that was it. The couple had come and gone. But when a snowstorm rolled through the region, a chilling discovery was made: the body of a woman, found near a twisted oak tree just outside of town. She was dressed in fashionable clothing, and was surrounded by the remaining scraps of a picnic lunch. As people got closer they realized the woman had been shot in the head and one of her fingers appeared to be broken—where her famous diamond ring once sat.

Without any family in town to claim her and make arrangements, townspeople raised money to bury her in Oakwood Cemetery. No headstone, just a simple grave. 

As word of the murder spread, suspicions began to grow. The man calling himself “A. Moore” had left town suddenly. He’d been traveling with a woman who matched the victim’s description. And he had taken her trunk with him when he vanished. The Sheriff’s office quickly issued a warrant for Mr. Moore on the suspicion of murder. As local authorities began digging deeper and retracing Mr. Moore’s movements, they eventually discovered that “A. Moore” was an alias. The man’s real name was Abraham Rothschild—a traveling jewelry salesman from a wealthy Cincinnati family. A new warrant was issued for Abraham Rothschild and search for his whereabouts began. 

Abe was back in Ohio. But he wasn’t doing well. Witnesses in Cincinnati said he’d returned a different man. He was drinking heavily and acting paranoid, apparently telling those around him that someone was following him. By mid-February, Rothschild’s paranoia had boiled over. On the evening of the 17th, he was found barely alive—bleeding from a gunshot wound to the head. The Cincinnati Enquirer described the injury in vivid detail writing quote: “The ball had entered back of the right temple, and passing diagonally forward, behind and through the orbit of the right eye, had lodged under the eye at the bridge of the nose” end quote. The bullet had flattened against his skull. Considering the severity of his injuries and where he was shot, no one expected him to survive—but he did. The official story shifted almost as quickly as he regained consciousness. First, Abe claimed he’d been attacked. Then, he said the gun had gone off by accident. 

Abe was located while recovering and authorities arrested him to take him back to Texas to stand trial for murder. His family, well-connected and powerful in Cincinnati, fought hard to block his extradition. But it didn’t work. Eventually, Abe Rothschild was escorted south to stand trial for the murder of Bessie Moore. It took nearly two years for the case to reach trial as Rothschild, with renewed support of his well-connected family, had the benefit of a powerhouse legal team who used a variety of legal tactics to delay the trial as long as possible. But when it finally did—December of 1878—the town of Jefferson was ready. The murder of Bessie Moore had already captured public attention, but the involvement of Abraham Rothschild, a wealthy heir from a respected Northern family, turned it into something more: a spectacle.

Lawyers from across East Texas scrambled to get involved, knowing the case would be high-profile. The case even grabbed the Governor’s attention who tried to recruit two assistant attorneys general to help with the prosecution. Rothschild’s defense, meanwhile, was stacked with some of the best legal minds money could buy—including Charles A. Culberson, a future Governor of Texas, and U.S. Senator David B. Culberson.

The trial stretched across three long weeks of testimony, followed by three full days of closing arguments. Rothschild, trying to present himself as a respectable society man incapable of committing such heinous violence, dressed in the best suits money could buy and donned a glass eye. Yet, his efforts at swaying the jury were in vain and Rothschild was convicted of murder and sentenced to death by noose. But Rothschild’s attorneys were not done yet. The defense team immediately filed an appeal, and the case was sent to the Seventh Texas Court of Appeals. There, Judge J. Clarke declared a mistrial, ruling that the proceedings had been mishandled. The guilty verdict was thrown out, but Rothschild’s time in the courtroom weren’t over just yet. 

The second trial began two years later, in December of 1880, back in Jefferson. On December 2nd, the state filed a new indictment against Rothschild. Jury selection began shortly after. Narrowed from a pool of 156 citizens, both sides finally found their twelve man jury —including two Black men, a notable detail in post-Reconstruction Texas. Once again facing a murder charge, but benefitting from knowing the prosecution’s strategy from the first trial, Rothschild’s defense team adjusted. One of their key witnesses was Isabella Gouldy, a local woman who had helped prepare Bessie’s body for burial. Gouldy claimed she had seen Bessie alive after the day the prosecution said she was killed—once on Saturday, January 20th, and again on Thursday the 25th. If true, her testimony meant that Abe wasn’t with Bessie at the time of her death.

The prosecution, for its part, tried to undermine Gouldy’s credibility and pointed to the physical evidence: Bessie’s body had been found near the remnants of a picnic, in the same wooded area where the couple was last seen. Her jewelry was gone, and her finger was broken where a diamond ring had once sat. The defense also argued that the condition of the body didn’t match the timeline. They claimed it was too well-preserved to have been exposed to the elements for as long as the prosecution alleged—casting doubt on when, exactly, Bessie had died. The case closed on December 30th, 1880, with a verdict that stunned many: not guilty. Abraham Rothschild was acquitted and walked free.

Even after the trial ended, the story of Bessie Moore—Diamond Bessie—refused to fade. In the years that followed, rumors claimed the jury had been bribed. Others said each juror met a violent end within a year of the verdict—a chilling coincidence that gave the case an almost supernatural air. There were also rumors that Bessie had been pregnant when she died. And though Rothschild was acquitted of her murder, some say he eventually spent twenty years in prison for grand theft—suggesting he couldn’t outrun trouble forever. From the research I gathered, it looks like at least one of those rumors is false, as there is at least some evidence that Abe lived a life of crime yet spent very little time in prison. Using a series of aliases such as Henry Smythe, Joseph Baum, and Joseph Jaeger, Rothschild was involved in everything from mail fraud to jewelry theft. He was known to associate with quote unquote gangster types and even spent time overseas in Europe before returning to the states to avoid mounting legal problems. 

Rothschild remarried to a woman 27 years his junior and the couple had two kids, eventually settling in New York. Abe and his new bride, Mabel, continued to run schemes before he died in 1923. 

For decades, Bessie’s grave remained unmarked. It wasn’t until the 1930s that one finally appeared—placed there by a man named E. B. McDonald, who later said he didn’t think it was right for her to be forgotten. In the 1960s, members of the community raised funds to build a wrought-iron fence around the site, offering her some measure of dignity in death. Today, Bessie Moore is buried in Jefferson’s Oakwood Cemetery, but her name lives on beyond the headstone. Each year, the town hosts a historical play reenacting the trial of Diamond Bessie. Visitors gather to watch the drama unfold—complete with period costumes, courthouse theatrics, and the same unanswered questions that have hovered over the case for nearly 150 years.

The truth of what happened that winter afternoon in 1877 may never be fully known. But Bessie’s story—her tragedy, her mystery, her name—has never really left Jefferson.

The story of Diamond Bessie is one of those moments in history where mystery, power, and tragedy collide. It reminds us that behind every headline, every courtroom drama, is a person and a life that mattered. And it serves as yet another example of the power of wealth in the criminal justice system and its sometimes heartbreaking consequences. 

Thanks peeps. I will see you next week.

OUTRO