The Strange Case of the Felonious Fumigator

Leah Minerva Dilley

 

On June 3, 1934, the four-year-old daughter of George and Edna Dilley vanished from her home in Mercer County. Leah Minerva Dilley was last seen by her siblings leaving her home on Andrew Street in Sharon after eating Sunday dinner, when she dashed outside to play with neighborhood children. Being a mother of eleven children, it wasn't easy for Edna to keep tabs on everyone, so it was no great surprise that the precocious youngster managed to escape from the house without her noticing, but when she learned that Leah and her friends had gone to a nearby park, she felt a sense of relief. However, when Leah failed to return home, her mother grew frantic and notified the police.

Chief of Police Charles Steger interviewed nearly thirty local residents after Leah was reported missing, including the child's companions on that fateful day, but none were able to throw any light on the perplexing mystery. Steger followed up on a report that Leah had been seen playing near a pond at Buhl Park, but police were unable to find any clues or proof that she had entered the water. Chief of Police Steger ordered his men to keep an eye on the Shenango River, just east of the Dilley home, though he doubted that Leah had been able to climb over the rocky embankment. The timing couldn't have been worse for Edna Dilley, whose husband was away, serving a three-month sentence in the workhouse on charges of cruelty towards his wife.

Within hours, the search for the missing child was joined by neighbors and local Boy Scout troops, while fire departments dragged the river, but after a second day of fruitless searching, Chief Steger was left with nothing but theories, none of which were likely to have a happy outcome: Had Leah been kidnapped? Adbucted by a degenerate? Or had she been taken by friends of her incarcerated father?
There was no evidence to support any of these theories, however. No ransom note had been received by Mrs. Dilley. No screams were heard and no suspicious characters had been seen in the area to substantiate the abduction theory. And, as for linking Leah's disappearance to her father, George Dilley wasn't even aware that his daughter was missing, and it was learned that he was permitted only one visitor per month.

By Thursday, the volunteer searchers had turned their sights to the surrounding countryside, combing the woods and hills for clues, while the police focused on Buhl Park, where Leah, wearing a blue plaid dress, was last seen by one of her friends. Meanwhile, fifty members of local Boy Scout troops and members of the American Legion searched inside vacant houses, garages and commercial buildings. Chief of Police Steger procured the release of George Dilley from the Allegheny Workhouse, in the hope that he would prove useful in the search.

Whitla Case Recalled

For most of its history, the city of Sharon, located fifteen miles northeast of Youngstown, was known for coal mining, ironworking, steel mills and breweries. Once a peaceful, rural village on the banks of the Shenango River, industrialization allowed the city to prosper and boom. In the fifty year span between 1880 and 1930, Sharon's population more than tripled, and by 1930 the city was home to more than 25,000 residents.

 

But, while rapid industrialization brought prosperity to the city, it also brought crime. The disappearance of Leah Minerva Dilley reminded the older residents of a famous case that had taken place in the city a quarter of a century earlier. In March of 1909, Willie Whitla, the 8-year-old son of wealthy Sharon attorney James P. Whitla, and nephew of multi-millionaire Frank H. Buhl, was kidnapped from school by a man posing as a colleague of Mr. Whitla. No expense was spared by the Whitla and Buhl families in hiring an army of private detectives, and Willie was returned to his family less than a week later after a $10,000 ransom was paid. The perpetrators, James H. Boyle and his wife, Helen McDermott Boyle, were arrested and convicted. James received a life sentence, while his wife was sentenced to 25 years in prison. Helen Boyle was eventually paroled, while her husband died behind bars from pneumonia. 

While the Whitla case had a happy ending for the victim and his family, it was doubtful the Dilleys would share the same good fortune if the kidnapping theory proved to be correct. They were neither rich enough to pay a ransom nor well-connected enough to obtain expensive private detectives, and as the week drew to an end without a ransom demand, the prevailing opinion was that Leah Dilley had fallen victim to a sex fiend.

Chief Perplexed

Because of the scarcity of clues, the police were at a loss to explain Leah's disappearance. Days of searching had yielded not so much as a lock of hair or a scrap of clothing. George Dilley, who had broken down and wept when informed about his daughter's disappearance, was unable to provide any useful information to Chief of Police Steger. In an act of desperation, Edna Dilley, too poor to afford the services of a detective agency, turned to psychics and fortune-tellers. Not surprisingly, their crystal balls and tarot cards failed to shed any light on the mystery.

When pressed for an update on the investigation on June 10, Chief of Police Steger could only hang his head. "The searchers are still out but we haven't found a single trace," he lamented. "We don't know what to think now."

State Police Join Search and a Father's Tireless Efforts

It wasn't until June 11-- eight days after Leah's disappearance-- that the State Police joined in the investigation. Assisted by County Detective Samuel Leyshock, state troopers from the Mercer barracks decided to drag the Shenango River for a second time, much to Chief Steger's bewilderment. "I'm certain she didn't drown," he declared, pointing out that the water level was now so low due to lack of rain that dragging the river wasn't even necessary-- the river bottom was clearly visible. "We have dragged the Shenango for miles, and we have covered every inch of territory about the park where the girl was last seen, to no avail."

George Dilley was among the volunteers who assisted the state police in dragging the river-- or, at least he tried to. When he reached the water's edge, grappling hook in hand, he found that he lost his nerve. "I shuddered when I thought of what might happen if the hook should encounter her little body," he admitted. "I just couldn't go through with it."

Though the Dilleys were so impoverished that the family had to depend on welfare and charity to make ends meet, and George had been reviled as a down-on-his-luck abuser of his spouse, the 42-year-old father leaped into action, showing more fire, grit and determination than either the local or state authorities. He appealed to volunteers to form another search party, this time focusing on rural areas beyond the city limits, and he called for doctors in Mercer and surrounding counties to be on the lookout for anyone fitting Leah's description, as he believed that his daughter may have been accidentally struck by a hit-and-run driver who had taken her for medical treatment outside the city.

 
A Bizarre Twist

On Friday, June 15, came a report that the body of Leah Minerva Dilley had been found at last in Hickory Township, more than three miles from Sharon-- under extremely bizarre circumstances.
On that day, City Detective William Thomas of Sharon questioned a 43-year-old former teacher and electrical engineer named Homer Sanders who had been seen by a resident of Andrew Street leaving a house with a bundle wrapped in a blanket. While being questioned about the blanket incident, Sanders blurted out a strange and macabre confession. 

According to Sanders, a Bucknell University graduate, member of the Sharon Post of the American Legion, and employee of the American Steel & Wire Company in Sharon, he had gone to the home of George Gregg at 317 Andrew Street, across the street from the Dilley home, on the morning of Sunday, June 3, to fumigate the property. After ordering the Gregg family out of the house, Sanders hooked up his equipment, sealed the property, and departed, not returning until later that night. Upon re-entering the Gregg home, he found the lifeless body of Leah Dilley in the basement. 

Homer Sanders

 

But what Homer Sanders did next seemed to defy rational explanation. Sanders claimed that he was so terrified upon finding the body that he took the body home and stored it in his garage overnight. The following morning, he drove Leah's body to a field in Hickory Township, near Sharpsville, covered it with a pile of brush, and set it on fire. Led to the spot by Sanders, authorities located Leah's partially cremated remains beneath a pile or burned brush. Sanders was immediately taken into custody, while the district attorney considered charging the middle-aged fumigator with involuntary manslaughter.

Cyanide and Toasted Marshmallows

An inquest into the death of Leah Minerva Dilley was held the following day at the Sharon City Hall. Homer Sanders explained his actions, claiming that he was afraid that he would be accused of killing the child, and feared that the ensuing publicity would ruin his fumigation business.

"This child that I found was about five years old and I did not know whether it was a boy or a girl," said City Detective William Thomas, who read from Sanders' written confession as the middle-aged fumigator sat mute and expressionless. "I heard about the missing child. I thought it was the child which I had burned. Through fear I did not report it to the police." In his written confession, Sanders  admitted that he had neglected to lock the door after tenting the Gregg home and setting off the cyanide pots.

The inquest, however, did little to improve Sanders' public image, especially after his confession revealed that he had not only brought along his own three young children to the bonfire, but that his children had even toasted marshmallows over the flames. 

The coroner's jury rendered a verdict that Leah Dilley's death had been caused by exposure to potassium cyanide through Homer Sander's negligence.

A scene from the inquest, showing Mr. and Mrs. Dilley (1 and 3) and Homer Sanders (2)

 

"I don't know why I did it," he said to reporters after the verdict was rendered. "I guess I just lost my head." He then began pleading for sympathy. "You're talking to a man who has had a lot of tough luck," he said, pointing out that his wife had died from emphysema two years earlier. His 13-year-old daughter, Lorraine, had been keeping the house in order ever since. Sanders, it seemed, despite his degree from a prestigious university, also had a hard time holding down a steady a job; he had once been a schoolteacher in Turtle Creek, as well as a mechanical engineer for Westinghouse, before moving to Sharon and accepting a position at the American Steel & Wire Company as a draftsman. After moving to Sharon, he began fumigating houses to supplement his income. 

After the inquest, Sanders was taken to the Mercer County Jail. His bail was set at $1,500. He would then await the decision of a grand jury, which would determine whether or not to indict him on one or both of the serious charges that had been brought against him-- involuntary manslaughter and destroying a body in order to prevent identification.

The house in which Leah's body was found

Denied a Funeral

Due to the peculiar circumstances of the case, the Mercer County court issued a ruling on June 19 prohibiting the burial of Leah Dilley's remains until after the disposition of charges against Homer Sanders, as the remains might be needed as evidence. As a result, memorial services were held at the Dilley home without the body present.

The following week, more horrific details were made public, after Sanders' pastor, Reverend William Diefenderfer, told authorities about a rubbish heap containing additional human remains. Sanders had confessed to his pastor that the bonfire hadn't destroyed all of Leah Dilley. After the flames had been extinguished and his children had fallen asleep, Sanders strapped the girl's badly-charred torso to the rear bumper of his car and drove to an abandoned stone quarry near the rear of his home, where he disposed of them. 

On June 24, upon hearing the reverend's story, authorities forced Sanders to lead them to spot where he had discarded the additional remains. The investigating party, consisting of District Attorney George Mashank, Chief of Police Steger and state troopers Jack Eben and George Rittleman, were able to retrieve Leah's badly-decomposed torso, spine, and ribs from the trash pile.

When authorities demanded to know why Sanders had withheld this information from them, the fiendish fumigator could only shrug. "I don't know why I didn't tell it before," he replied.

The Sanders children, who toasted marshmallows over Leah's burning body.

 
The Trial of Homer Sanders

In August, the Commonwealth declared that it would not accept any plea deal that did not include a guilty plea on the charge of manslaughter. Sanders agreed to plead guilty to the charge in a deal that would spare him the public embarrassment of a trial. Assistant District Attorney Joseph Nelson agreed to this "no defense" plea. 

His reputation ruined, Sanders moved to Ohio after his release from prison.

 

The Mercer County grand jury convened on September 4, 1934, and Sanders, after a failed attempt by his attorney to petition the court for a lunacy commission to determine his sanity, was convicted without a trial on September 19 by Judge J.A. McLaughry. Despite the emotional pain and humiliation Sanders had caused the Dilley family, not only through his negligence but through his callous indifference toward a deceased four-year-old child, he was sentenced to just 2 to 4 years at the Allegheny County Workhouse, minus three months for the time he had already served in the county jail.

Surprisingly, Homer Sanders was granted his freedom by the State Pardon Board after serving just one year of his sentence. After his release, Sanders moved to Cuyahoga County, Ohio, where he remarried and worked an electrical engineer until his death in 1958 at the age of 67. As for Leah's parents, her mother, Edna, passed away after a short illness in 1941 at the age of 49. Her husband, George, died in 1955 at the age of 64.

 

Sources:

Greenville Record-Argus, June 4, 1934.
Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph, June 5, 1934.
Indiana Gazette, June 6, 1934.
Punxsutawney Spirit, June 7, 1934.
Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph, June 7, 1934.
Scranton Tribune, June 11, 1934.
Pittsburgh Press, June 12, 1934.
Greenville Record-Argus, June 12, 1934.
Franklin News-Herald, June 15, 1934.
Pittsburgh Press, June 16, 1934.
Scranton Times-Tribune, June 16, 1934.
Pittsburgh Press, June 17, 1934.
Altoona Tribune, June 20, 1934.
Indiana Gazette, June 25, 1934.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, June 25, 1934.
Greenville record-Argus, Aug. 22, 1934.
New Castle News, Sept. 19, 1934.
Pittsburgh Press, Oct. 17, 1935.