The Hammersmith Ghost | England This episode was researched and written by our podcasting friend, Branden Morgen – Creator of the hit podcast, The Devil Within. If you’re looking for a podcast similar to Evidence Locker – go check them out on your favourite platform. Also see our feed to listen to our chat with Branden about a case we both covered – The Osset Exorcism Murder. The street was quiet that night. Cold. Still. Francis Smith crept along the dark alleyway, his hands trembling around the wooden grip of his blunderbuss. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned the corner, eyes scanning the shadows. There — not twenty feet ahead — the figure stood. Dressed all in white. Pale and silent. It didn’t move. Just stared. Smith shouted, “Damn you! Who are you and what are you?” No answer. The figure took one slow step forward. “Stay where you are!” Smith yelled. Then, in the same breath, he pulled the trigger. The blast shattered the silence — and a man fell. What Francis Smith didn’t know in that moment… was that the ghost he believed he had confronted was no ghost at all. It was Thomas Millwood, a local plasterer, walking home from work. And within seconds, he was dead. What followed was a tragedy born not from hatred or revenge, but from fear — and from belief in something that was never there at all. This is the story of the Hammersmith Ghost. You are listening to: The Evidence Locker. Thanks for listening to our podcast. This episode is made possible by our sponsors—be sure to check them out for exclusive deals. For an ad-free experience, join us on Patreon, starting at just $2 a month, with 25% of proceeds supporting The Doe Network, helping to bring closure to international cold cases. Links are in the show notes. Our episodes cover true crimes involving real people, and some content may be graphic in nature. Listener discretion is advised. We produce each episode with the utmost respect for the victims, their families, and loved ones. On the northern bank of the River Thames, just west of Kensington, is the district of Hammersmith. Today, it’s a commercial and residential hub, bustling with activity and crisscrossed by underground lines, flyovers, and busy foot traffic. But in the early 1800s, it was a small, semi-rural village, largely isolated from the rapidly expanding city of London. At the time, the area was made up of modest cottages, narrow lanes, and working-class residents. Like most communities in early 19th-century Britain, Hammersmith was deeply religious, and superstition was part of everyday life. In January 1804, Hammersmith found itself at the centre of a bizarre and tragic incident — one that would come to have lasting implications in British criminal law. It began not with a crime, but with a rumour. Eighteen months earlier, in the spring of 1802, a local blacksmith died by suicide. Mental illness was not a concept well understood at the time, and those who took their own lives were denied Christian burials. Instead, they were buried at crossroads, far from consecrated ground, with the belief that such individuals could not rest in peace and were more likely to become restless spirits. The blacksmith’s widow, fearing both public disgrace and spiritual consequences, claimed that her husband’s death had been accidental — the result of an unfortunate incident at the forge. Her story was accepted, and he was buried in the churchyard according to Christian tradition. But as months passed, the widow reportedly became consumed with guilt. At the same time, local rumours began to circulate: a ghost had been seen in the Hammersmith churchyard, a pale, shrouded figure that glided silently through the streets and frightened passersby. Many believed it could only be one thing — the spirit of a suicide victim buried on holy ground. Soon, sightings increased. Residents described a figure dressed in white that appeared suddenly in the darkness. The community, already prone to superstition, began to panic. The first formal report came from a man named Thomas Groom. One evening, as he cut through the churchyard on his way home from work, he claimed to have been grabbed from behind. Groom said he struggled free and turned to see what had seized him. He found himself face to face with a figure, shrouded in white, which then vanished into the mist. He later told neighbours that when he swung at it, it felt like hitting a coat suspended in mid-air. Word of the ghost spread quickly, and hysteria began to take hold. Later that year, in November 1803, two women were walking along the cobbled paths toward the river near the churchyard. They said they were attacked by a faceless apparition dressed in flowing white robes. The figure reached for them, prompting them to scream and flee. The incident left them so shaken that, according to reports, both women died of shock within days. In a separate incident, a wagoner passing by the churchyard was said to have encountered the ghost and fled in terror, abandoning his cart and horses. Others reported being chased or harassed by the spirit. Stories grew more exaggerated with each telling. Then, on the night of December 29th, 1803, a local night watchman named William Girdler claimed to have seen the ghost with his own eyes. He was patrolling near a rye warehouse on Beaver Lane when he noticed a strange figure moving near the churchyard. Girdler pursued the figure through the street. According to his account, the ghost threw off its shroud and vanished. No garments were found at the scene, and this, rather than discrediting the story, was taken as evidence of the figure’s supernatural nature — the ghost’s clothing, people reasoned, could not remain behind because it wasn’t of this world. With no organised police force in Hammersmith at the time, residents took it upon themselves to keep watch. Armed patrols were formed, composed of townspeople who walked the streets by night, hoping to protect their community from the ghostly threat. One of these volunteers was Francis Smith, an excise officer — a government-appointed tax collector. On the evening of January 3rd, 1804, Smith took to the streets carrying a blunderbuss, a short-barrelled firearm similar to a shotgun. The weapon, typical of the time, used a flintlock mechanism and fired large-calibre pellets or small shot. It was deadly at close range. Smith encountered William Girdler that night, who was again on duty. The two agreed to meet after 11pm to search for the ghost together. But shortly after 11, Smith saw something. Less than fifty yards ahead of him, he noticed a white figure turning a corner into a narrow alley. The figure moved slowly, seemingly unconcerned that it had been spotted. Smith watched it disappear down the lane. He took cover behind a nearby building, heart pounding, and then followed. When he reached the alley, he saw the figure again, now only twenty feet in front of him. It was completely white — exactly like the ghost described in countless stories. Smith shouted, “Damn you! Who are you and what are you?” The figure took a step forward. Smith raised his blunderbuss and called out, “Stay where you are!” Then, without waiting for a response, he fired. The shot struck the man in the lower face, killing him instantly. Smith approached the body. As he got closer, it became clear that the figure he had shot was not a ghost. It was Thomas Millwood, a local plasterer and mason. Millwood had been walking home from work wearing his usual uniform: white trousers, a white shirt, and a white apron, all of which were covered in fine white plaster dust. William Girdler, hearing the gunshot, rushed to the scene along with several other townspeople. They arrived to find Millwood’s body lying in the street. Smith, realising what he had done, remained at the scene. The vigilantes had succeeded not in catching a ghost, but in killing an innocent man. Millwood was carried to a nearby pub, The Black Lion, where his body was laid out to await examination. Three days later, Dr. Flower, a surgeon from London, conducted the autopsy. He found a gunshot wound on the left side of Millwood’s jaw. One pellet had pierced the spine. Death had been instantaneous. Francis Smith was advised to return home and wait for the constable. He did so and was later charged with willful murder. At his trial, held at the Old Bailey, Millwood’s wife and sister both testified. They had heard the shot and Smith’s voice outside their house. Millwood had been only steps from his front door when he was killed. Millwood’s wife told the court that she had repeatedly asked her husband to wear a dark coat over his white work clothes. On multiple occasions, people had mistaken him for the ghost. In one instance, he had frightened two women and a man in a passing carriage. When confronted, Millwood had insisted he was not the ghost and nearly got into a fight over it. Character witnesses spoke on Smith’s behalf. He was described as respectable and law-abiding. The jury listened carefully. They understood the climate of fear that had taken hold of the village and believed that Smith genuinely thought he was confronting a ghost. After deliberating, they returned a verdict of manslaughter. But the presiding judge, Lord Chief Baron Sir Archibald Macdonald, rejected the verdict. He told the jury that the facts constituted murder. Smith had not acted in self-defence. He had not been provoked. He had not attempted to detain the figure peacefully. And, critically, believing someone to be a ghost did not justify killing them. The judge stated: “All killing whatever amounts to murder, unless justified by law, or in self-defence. In cases of some involuntary acts, or some sufficiently violent provocation, it becomes manslaughter. Not one of these circumstances occur here.” He directed the jury to reconsider their verdict and to return either a conviction or acquittal on the charge of willful murder. Less than 24 hours later, the jury returned with a guilty verdict. Under the law of the time, a conviction for willful murder carried a mandatory sentence: death by hanging, followed by public dissection. However, Judge Macdonald himself intervened. He reported the case to King George III and petitioned for clemency. The King agreed. The sentence was commuted to one year of hard labour. Shortly afterward, a local man named John Graham came forward. Graham, a shoemaker, admitted to having posed as the ghost. He said he had done so to scare an apprentice in his household who had been telling ghost stories to local children. Graham’s intent had been to frighten the apprentice into silence. He had worn a white sheet and prowled the churchyard at night, never intending to spark a panic. But the consequences were irreversible. One man was dead. Another was convicted of murder. And the village had been thrown into turmoil. The case of the Hammersmith Ghost had long-lasting repercussions. In legal terms, it raised a profound question: is acting on a mistaken belief a valid defence in criminal law? That question remained unresolved for nearly 180 years, until 1983, when a case came before the Court of Appeal in London. In that case, a man witnessed an older man dragging a younger man along the pavement while the younger man cried for help. Believing he was witnessing an assault, the bystander intervened and injured the older man. It later emerged that the younger man was a thief, and the older man was preventing his escape. The bystander was charged with assault. During the appeal, the court referenced the Hammersmith case — specifically the conviction of Francis Smith. But in this modern case, the judge reached a different conclusion. The conviction was overturned. The court ruled that if someone is genuinely acting under a mistaken belief — even if that belief is incorrect — they may still be protected under the law, provided their actions were reasonable under the circumstances. The case of the Hammersmith Ghost had finally found its legal legacy. A misunderstanding, born of fear and superstition, had taken an innocent life. But it also forced the courts to grapple with the complexities of human belief, fear, and intent — and what justice looks like when those collide. If you'd like to dive deeper into this case, check out the resources we used for this episode in the show notes. Don’t forget to follow us on social media for more updates on today's case – you can find us on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and X. We also have a channel on YouTube where you can watch more content. If you enjoy what we do here at Evidence Locker, please subscribe on Apple Podcasts or wherever you're listening right now and consider leaving us a 5-star review. This was The Evidence Locker. Thank you for listening!