Returning to the Scene of the Crime

Heading east out of Surry Courthouse on Route 10, I made a left turn onto Alliance Road and drove northeast toward Chippokes Plantation. The sky was gray & fretful; rain was imminent. Fields stretched for a ways on either side of the road, bordered by deep green woods. Up ahead on the left, a sagging old farmhouse marked the scene of a perfect crime. A crime I committed when I was seventeen.

Most readers are familiar with Surry County because of a much more recent crime. This quiet, rural county received the unwelcome attention of the national media when a multi-state criminal operation was discovered at a fifteen-acre estate owned by Michael Vick, NFL quarterback. Vick, a native of Newport News on the other side of the James River, picked an ideal locale for his illegal dog-fighting operations. Just across the river from bustling Williamsburg & Jamestown, Surry County is remote and generally unfrequented by travelers. Vick's Bad Newz Kennels was the scene of horrific cruelty to animals. The good news is that many of the dogs were rescued and have found safe haven with compassionate humans.

But let's get back to my own crime spree. From an early age, road trips were part of my life, so when I was licensed to drive, I'd pack my car with some friends and we would explore. Usually we would stick to Virginia Beach & Norfolk, but sometimes we would go farther afield. Eastern North Carolina was not out of the question, since going due north involved the expense of the lengthy Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. The countryside west of Portsmouth provided interesting day trips, as well. The rural counties of Smithfield and Surry had many hog farms, convenient to the meat packing plants that produce the famous Virginia hams.

One Saturday, during my senior year in high school. some friends and I spotted the old house you see in these photographs. It was obviously vacant, but not as decrepit as it is today; the yard was high with weeds and scrub, and the driveway was overgrown. We fought our way to the house and peered in the windows. The interior was dusty and neglected. No one had been inside this house for years.


Thinking nothing of it, we forced our way in (not my first B&E, I'm afraid, but more about that another time...maybe) through a back porch entrance and explored the house. The first room we encountered was the kitchen. Startled mice scurried for hiding places. There were mouse droppings everywhere, and old cans & boxes of food were still on the shelves. Flatware and dishes were on the kitchen table. It looked like the family had suddenly been called away from home decades past, and never returned.


Moving along through the house, we came to the conclusion that an old woman had lived here. After she died or went to a care facility, her family came in and removed anything of value, boarded up the home, and never returned. There were still odd pieces of furniture, bric-a-brac, and shelves filled with books. I took a copy of Ben Hur, which is still in a box in my attic. Abandoned mail and signatures in book covers identified her as Ruth Dearth. Nothing of real value had been left in the house.


Upstairs, we found the moulted skins of snakes. They would have grown fat from the mice that feasted on the food left behind in the kitchen. Vines grew through the walls. Curtains hung in tatters. The unwanted chairs that remained had all had their legs sawed off, leading us to the conclusion that Ruth was either a wee person, or the house had been filled with children at one time. Now, the only things that moved through these rooms were spiders, snakes, rodents, and - briefly - us. We gathered a few souvenirs (add theft to the B&E) and departed, speculating on the house and its long-ago occupants.

These photographs show what the house looks like today. It was strange finding the house again, and remembering a day in the past I had all but forgotten. Abandoned homes intrigue me, and I hope you enjoy these photographs of a lonely homeplace.