Morning journal and courier., 1882-01-19
A Boy Sentenced for Life.

A Boy Sentenced for Life.
 He Describes the Cold-BIooded Way in
 Which he Killed an Uncle who had Ill.,
 Treated Him.
 From the Buffalo Express.
 John McEntee's plea of guilty of murder
 in the second degree has already been report.
 ed in the Express. Yesterday, at Bath, he
 was sentenced to imprisonment for life by
 Judge Rumsey Young McEntee will not be
 IT till the latter part of this month. He liv-
 ed with his parents about two miles north of
 Bath, in the edge of Harrisburg Hollow
 Peter McEntee, his uncle, whom he killed was bachelor and an inmate of the family. The murderer is slight and small for his age He said he weighed 1O5 pounds when arrest ed, but we doubt if he would now weigh 80 pounds. He is pale and hollow-chested, and has a cough, and evidently is not long for | this world He has made confession which is one of the most extraordinary in the an- nals of crime. His choice of language and mode of expression were remarkably good for a boy of his age and circumstances, and | he told his story with but few questions. He ] said: "Uncle Peter had always treated me ! badly, and he made such hubbub in the 1 family that I knew we could never have any peace as long as he was around. He would l very often strike me with the first thing he could lay his hands upon, and he would lie \ to father about me and get me whipped. One ! time he knocked me down and choked me ! till father had to come from field near by | and take him off Then he would abuse me l in other ways and put me to shame before | company, and finally it all got so bad that l | couldn't stand it any longer, and became so l desperate that made up my mind I would l put him out of the way no matter what hap pened to me- tried to borrow pistol, but
 it WAS three or four weeks before I could get l one. I finally borrowed a single barreled cartridge pistol from a neighbours boy. The | night ncle Peter went down to McNally's l l saw my chance. I took the pistol and waited I around while, and then went down to Me 1 Nallys door and heard Uncle Peters voice. ! Then went back up the road and sat down l on stump fence to wait for him. I trem- 1 bled so that was afraid I would not have the nerve to kill him, but then remember 1 ed that must return the pistol on Saturday, 1 and this would be my best chance In about an hour he came up the road, and pretend 1 ed to cry and be lame, and imped out in l front of him, holding out stick under which
 I hid the pistol, already cocked-you will think I am old-blooded when I tell you this l but might as we'll tell you the whole thing
 I said, Uncle Peter, father has beaten me
 and turned me out doors see, here is the ! stick he did it with all covered with blood.' | At first he jumped back, but then he step- l ped forward, and when he was about five feet off I pulled the trigger, aiming at the l centre of his chest. Be did not fall but l clapped his hands to his chest and cried: ! You little rascal, you have shot me- I ran l 8 ways down the road and watched. He walk ed few steps and then staggered and sat l down by the side of the road and groaned After waiting some minutes saw that he wasn't going to die, and I felt that I must ! finish him, as I was afraid that he might get l up to the house or that some one would come l along, and he would tell how had done it. l so I started to load again The cartridge ! shell stuck in the barrel and so I broke off 8 l twig from tree to push it out with. I then 1 put in another cartridge, but l was nervous | that the pistol went off and came near shoot l ing me in the leg had lost the stick used l for ramrod, so broke off another. When 1 I had loaded I went up behind uncle Peter, | so that he did not hear me, and jumping l around in front of him shot him in the chest
 again, and he fell back dying. It was fully 8 l quarter of an hour from the time fired the l first shot till fired the third. l was scared l and did not know what to do. I didn't dare go home and I knew it was TO use to run away, as they would be sure to catch me. 1 Then I thought would play insane. l went l down behind the barn of the Halfway House and stood there good while till I saw our horse going down toward town Then l l went down and sat on the bridge between the I | the train saw man there with spectacles, l who started toward town, and I knew he was l going to tell the officers I was there. By l that time had got so desperate that I didn't 1 care what became of me, and so followed
 him down town, and Sheriff Higgins arrested me on Liberty street." This closed the main
 part of his narrative. When asked if he had
 been in the habit of reading dime novels and
 sensational story papers, he acknowledged that he had, and supplemented this confes- sion with the remark that he had borrowed books about Italian bandits. Asked if he did not think that this had something to do
 with his killing his uncle, he replied: "I
 think that it did some. It gave me the idea of being notorious, his exact word, and fill l ed my head with such notions and got my l courage up." His mother, who was in poor l health at the time of the murder, was hur-
 ried into her grave by grief, and he attended l her funeral accompanied by the sheriff ] When the writer referred to her the tears trickled down Johns cheeks, and he said: l ''She was good to me she always took my part and Uncle Peter didn't treat her we'll"
 He asked what people thought about him, l and how long we supposed he would have to l stay in prison. He said year or more of prison life would kill him.