She did, however, give an account of his violence to the courts, and enjoyed a few nights’ respite while Henry slept in their custody.
It was, perhaps, this action that sealed her fate.
Henry’s rage roared from the moment the cell door opened to release him. He stormed into the street screaming Sallie’s name with strings of unflattering epithets. He found her at home and took to beating her with such severity, neighbors finally came to her rescue. Henry fought the grasp of four men, screaming all the while, “Set my hands free! I’m go’n kill the slut for who she is!”
Sallie took nothing with her, only seized the opportunity to run straight to the police station to beg for refuge.
“He has sworn he will kill me,” she said to the officer on duty. “He has sworn so, and I believe him. Please, arrest him and protect my life.”
The officer had no reason to inquire her name, or request his, as the turbulence of Henry Wheeler and Sallie White was well-known and documented. Still, he insisted, he could not arrest Henry for such threats. After all, if every man who threatened such murder upon his wife were arrested, there’d be no room in the jails for those who actually followed through. As a compromise, the officials agreed to take Sallie herself into their custody, to let her sleep the night in the courthouse, safely locked away while Henry’s temper burned itself out.
In the early morning hours, Sallie asked to be released and made her way home. Did she hope to bring Henry to his senses? Or, one might wish, she meant to leave him once and for all, preferring a life on the street in peace over the weight of his constant fury. Whatever her thoughts, they galvanized into one of heart-stopping fear when she saw Henry on the sidewalk.
“Sallie,” he said, and only this as he approached. Whatever hold he had on her all those years kept her feet planted to the sidewalk. His hand reached for her, and she stepped into the familiar embrace, raising her lips to his for a reuniting kiss.
“I promised to kill you,” he said, breath sour with whiskey, “and so I will.”
She felt the gun pressed into her as he held her tight against it. The shot was muffled by the closeness of their bodies. Sallie stepped away and looked down to see her uniform—that which she wore with such pride and care—blossoming red with blood. She instinctively doubled over in pain and, calling on a strength supernatural to her own, turned and ran. There were men and women aplenty in the streets, but none gave aid. It was only Sallie and Henry, after all. Rather, they took to sheltering themselves once Henry gave chase.
Where could she run? Sallie felt her body growing weaker with each step and heard Henry’s shouts closing in. To the police? But they’d shown her such disregard. She paused long enough to take into account her location. Steps away from the Menger, her first home. If she could only get inside—Henry wouldn’t be allowed, a black man not in their employ. If she could only—
Two more shots, and a third that brought her down right outside the brewery’s entrance.
Not close enough.
Trusting the strength of her Creator, Sallie grasped what she could and brought herself to her feet, calling out for help, shocked at the weakness of her voice. How could she be calling and calling and hear no sound?
That’s when she realized she hadn’t brought herself to her feet at all. He had—Henry—and he held her now, his hand to her throat, her back against the wall, her feet kicking free in midair. She wanted to free herself, but one shattered arm dangled helplessly, the other was pinned behind her. Sallie felt life streaming out of her, like a towel wrung out in the wash, Henry speaking words of hate into her face until everything went dark.
It would take three days for her to die. Three days during which her spirit hovered between her life in this world and whatever lies beyond it. Thus, she remained. A spirit. It is, perhaps, this restlessness of waiting that so unsettled her. There are those who have told me that she haunts this place because she fears to leave, lest Henry be waiting to kill her again. Others say her spirit stays because she fears she will fall under his spell and forgive his murderous cruelty. One minister told me she is simply