On a cold December day in 1863, in the bustling boomtown of Virginia City, Nevada Territory, a dramatic and ultimately perplexing event unfolded that saw a woman named Deborah Anne Phillips shoot and kill Charles Stier. This sensational case of homicide would become a landmark example of how public sentiment and prevailing societal norms could allow an individual to, quite literally, get away with murder.
The story of Deborah Anne Phillips and the death of Charles Stier is a fascinating glimpse into the rough-and-tumble justice of the American West, where honor, reputation, and public perception often weighed as heavily as legal statutes.
The Fateful Encounter on South C Street
Deborah Anne Phillips, described as being in her late twenties and a recent widow, had arrived in Virginia City from California, earning her living through laundry work. She resided in the west apartment of a two-unit cottage on South C Street with her eight-year-old daughter, Susie. Charles Stier, a butcher approximately 30 years old and originally from Hamburg, occupied the east apartment with his lodger, Joseph Peterson. Each apartment had its own separate entrance, about ten feet apart, at the head of a short flight of steps.
The events leading up to the shooting began to unfold between 3 and 4 o’clock in the afternoon on December 11, 1863. A friend of Deborah’s, a man named McMillan, had called upon her. During their conversation, Deborah expressed a degree of apprehension regarding Stier’s recent behaviors. Stier had initially shown kindness, providing wood for her fire and helping with household chores. However, his expectations for the relationship clearly shifted, leading to him making insulting remarks, presumably fueled by a realization that his overtures were not being reciprocated.
As if on cue, Stier appeared at Deborah’s door, letting himself in uninvited. Seemingly enraged, he declared, “I don’t want anything more to do with you; you can’t play me.” He then repeatedly stated, “I know all of your kind.” Turning to McMillan, Stier issued a challenge: “I insult a lone woman, and if anyone wants to discuss it, I’m ready for him.” Stier then retreated to his apartment, continuing his verbal assault through the building partition. McMillan, wisely, chose not to escalate the situation and departed. Shortly after, Deborah, with an ominous intent, borrowed a six-shooter pistol from a friend named Schofield.
A Bizarre Confrontation and Fatal Shots
The situation escalated around six o’clock that same evening when Stier returned to Mrs. Phillips’ apartment. A heated argument ensued, during which Stier verbally abused her, calling her a “damned whore.” In a fit of rage and to defend her honor, Deborah pursued him into his apartment with the pistol, branding him a coward. She fired through the closed door, though evidently missing, before briefly returning to her own residence. Subsequently, both Stier and Mrs. Phillips, with Mrs. Phillips still armed, emerged from their apartments and continued their dispute from the tops of their respective staircases. Deborah adamantly demanded that Stier retract his insult, but he steadfastly refused. She then re-entered her apartment, retrieving the pistol once more.
Responding to the escalating commotion, Joseph Peterson, Stier’s fellow lodger, exited the east apartment, ascended the west steps, and attempted to restrain Mrs. Phillips to prevent further violence. In an utterly incomprehensible turn, Stier interjected, saying to Peterson, “Let her fire.” Despite Peterson’s efforts to hold her, Deborah fired, missing her target. Stier astonishingly repeated, “Don’t hold her—let her shoot.” Again, she fired, and again, she missed.
Ignoring Stier’s reckless taunts, Peterson managed to disarm Mrs. Phillips. Yet, Stier’s bizarre insistence continued: “Give her back the pistol and let her shoot.” Belatedly, Peterson acquiesced to Stier’s demand, returning the firearm to Deborah. On her fourth attempt, Mrs. Phillips fired, striking Stier in the head. He collapsed to the bottom of the stairs, succumbing to his wound around 8 o’clock that night, as later confirmed by Dr. McNally at the coroner’s inquest. Witnesses, drawn by the gunshots, had gathered, and Mrs. Phillips defiantly addressed them, proclaiming, “Boys, you may all see that I have done this with a clean conscience.”
Virginia City: A Boomtown Backdrop
The context of Virginia City in the 1860s is crucial to understanding the outcome of this extraordinary case. The discovery of the Comstock Lode in June 1859 ignited a silver rush that led to the creation of Nevada Territory in 1861 and the explosive growth of Virginia City. Failed California gold miners and new migrants flocked to the area, transforming a desolate landscape into a burgeoning settlement on the eastern side of Mount Davidson.
Initially a collection of tents and flimsy wooden structures, Virginia City rapidly evolved into a more permanent town as the immense riches of the Comstock Lode became apparent. With this growth came the gradual establishment of law-and-order institutions, though they remained somewhat fluid in this frontier environment. The population was overwhelmingly male, and among the few resident women, a significant number were prostitutes. Nineteenth-century attitudes regarding the role of women made it exceedingly difficult for a single woman like Deborah Anne Phillips to earn an honest living. Paradoxically, an unattached “respectable woman” in such a male-dominated society garnered considerable attention and, as Deborah would discover, could also command a remarkable degree of public sympathy.
The Unprecedented Acquittal and Pardon
Indeed, Deborah Anne Phillips’ violent defense of her honor profoundly captivated the public imagination of Virginia City. Just three days after the shooting, the Gold Hill Daily News (December 14, 1863) reported, “We need scarcely say that public sympathy is generally on her side because Steir [sic] ‘called her out of her name.'”
Mrs. Phillips was arrested and briefly incarcerated before being freed on a $1,000 bond. Her bail hearing drew a crowded courtroom, a testament to the intense public interest in her fate. Despite being found guilty of manslaughter, she received remarkably lenient treatment at her sentencing the following March. The Gold Hill Daily News (March 29, 1864) noted, “…Judge North remarked that as the prisoner was a woman, he would not, as is customary in such cases, request her to rise…“
On March 28, 1864, she was sentenced to a mere one year in the Territorial Prison—an exceptionally light sentence for a capital crime. The following month, this extraordinary clemency was further compounded when Governor James Warren Nye granted her a full pardon. This decision came in response to a formidable public outcry, as detailed by the Gold Hill Daily News (April 9, 1864): “The petition presented to the Governor, praying for her pardon, was signed by the jury that convicted her, by Judge North and the Prosecuting Attorney, by the Sheriff and his Deputies, also by all the city officials, a majority of the members of the Board, a great number of prominent citizens.“
It is almost impossible to imagine a man fatally avenging an insult with a six-shooter and escaping with such a favorable outcome. Likewise, a prostitute defending herself under similar circumstances would likely not have fared well. But Deborah Anne Phillips, championed by the press as “an honest, hard-working woman, who earns her living by washing,” was allowed to escape the full measure of justice, truly getting away with murder.
Unraveling Stier’s Fatal Intent
A persistent question remains concerning Charles Stier’s motivation in repeatedly urging Peterson to allow Mrs. Phillips to shoot at him. One might speculate that he underestimated her shooting skills, especially given her initial misses. However, this interpretation fails to address why he would take such a grave risk at all. The Gold Hill Daily News (December 14, 1863) offered a more plausible explanation, suggesting Stier was acting irrationally and potentially under the influence of alcohol: “Steir [sic] was a butcher, and formerly worked in this city, and was regarded as a harmless fellow. Of late he indulged so excessively in strong drink that he was looked upon as a little ‘daft.’” This account paints Stier as a man whose judgment was severely impaired, leading him to a fatal miscalculation of the situation and his own invincibility.
Deborah Phillips’ Later Life
Following her release, Deborah Anne Phillips’ subsequent life appears to have been relatively uneventful, a stark contrast to the dramatic incident in Virginia City. The 1880 census records show her, still listed as widowed, working as a housekeeper for Stephen Milligan, a single, 51-year-old farmer in Branch Township, Stanislaus County, California. Her daughter, Susie S. Phillips, who had married in 1870 to Wright S. Curless and divorced in 1877, also lived with them, listed as a servant. The household included her four-year-old grandson, Joseph R. Curless (presumably Susie’s son), and a Chinese farm laborer named Chung.
By the 1900 census, Deborah Phillips was living in San Francisco, head of her household, still identified as widowed, and working as a seamstress and day laborer alongside her now 24-year-old grandson, Joseph Curless. She passed away on January 13, 1911, at the age of 77 in San Francisco, having outlived her daughter Susie. Her obituary in the San Francisco Call (January 15, 1911) mentioned her surviving sister, Mrs. Ryan of St. Joseph, Missouri, her grandson Joseph Curless, a granddaughter listed only as Mrs. Oscar Jacobson, and a great-granddaughter, Althea Jacobson. Notably, there was no mention whatsoever of the half-century-old manslaughter incident in Virginia City, suggesting a deliberate omission or perhaps that the scandalous affair had long faded from public memory.
Conclusion: A Unique Chapter in Frontier Justice
The case of Deborah Anne Phillips stands as a compelling and unique chapter in the annals of American frontier justice. It underscores how the social fabric of the mid-nineteenth century, particularly in a male-dominated mining boomtown like Virginia City, could significantly influence legal outcomes. The confluence of factors—including prevailing moral codes that valued respectable, chaste women, the intense and perhaps obsessive interest of lonely men, profound public sympathy for a woman striving to earn an honest living, and a perverse fascination with her violent defense of honor—all contributed to an extraordinary miscarriage of justice, or perhaps, a unique form of frontier equity.
Ultimately, Deborah Anne Phillips undeniably got away with murder, a testament to the powerful, often irrational, forces of public opinion and the shifting sands of justice in the American West.
