| TRAVELS OF DURSMIRG VOLUME IV THE ROGUES OF ST. AUGUSTINE AND OTHER SOCIAL MISFITS Chapter 11 |
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CHAPTER 11 HER BEAUTY WAS ONLY SKIN DEEP
ATHALIA PONSELL LINDSLEY’S SLAYING
Jane and I had become regulars in downtown St. Augustine and so was this attractive striking standoffish woman we
saw often at McCartney’s Drug Store and Lunch Counter.
McCartney’s was located at the corner of King and St. George Streets just one block west of the bay front and
across the street from the city’s central park.
This was where the local hoi polloi congregated on a daily basis.
McCartney’s Drug Store had its regular breakfast clientele who could be counted on to appear and materialize at the
appointed time every day. They would then take their regular seat and have their regular breakfast delivered by
their regular welcoming waitress always greeting by first names.
This was the inner sanctum of the who’s who in little Old St. Augustine.
The mayor was there along with his political cronies and the social elite gathered with the town’s business buddies
building their entrepreneurial bridges. Mixed collectively with the group was a hodgepodge of the old city’s regular
street people who all commingled daily at McCartney’s Drug Store.
McCartney’s was an old and long established neighborhood relic from days gone by of the traditional Deep South
where the soda fountain, tobacco counter and news stand sold the particular products their patrons regularly
depended upon.
After a leisurely breakfast that invariably features the local special which consistently included grits, the customer on
the way out the door would stop to pay his tab.
The daily standard without fail included the price of the newspaper he had picked up on the way in and read at
breakfast plus the clerk would automatically have the brand of cigar or cigarettes and candy that that patron always
purchased ready and waiting.
One and all greeted each other respectfully by first names with a salutation and some trivial chit-chat addressing
each other in the down south tradition like this; Miss Jane or Mr. John.
As the years passed by, being rich, beautiful and talented weren’t enough to offset the advancing ravages of time
that this slick shrewd cunning lady Athalia needed to stay on top in New York City’s highly competitive limelight.
So Athalia, out of a desperate necessity to be noticed, came to the conclusion that she was becoming a little fish in
a very big pond. Her self-centered ultra ego personality just couldn’t cope with the crushing reality of her youth
slipping away.
Seeking the spot light and wanting to be the big fish again Athalia headed south to the little pond.
Athalia spread her aging wings and moved back to the little pond, Jacksonville. Still energized by New York City’s
fast paced dynamics she wrote a book on gardening and even patented an electrical devise for scouring pots. Her
interest in politics led her to run for a state House seat but she was unsuccessful.
She next became a licensed real estate agent and sold her prestigious family home on Riverside Avenue in
Jacksonville.
In 1972 the older but still strikingly beautiful Athalia moved to St. Augustine where she bought a lovely white two
story home with a bay view on Marine Street between the National Cemetery and the State National Guard
headquarters.
Above is Athalia’s formerly white Marine Street home.
Athalia and her husband Mayor James Lindsley resided in separate residences because Athalia maintained that she
just couldn’t bear to leave her valuable paintings and antiques in her St. Augustine home unguarded.
This beautifully polished fashionably dressed woman was aroused with strong physically powerful emotions and
forthright outspoken opinions because she always had something interesting and provocative to say.
Besides being extravagantly beautiful this super woman possessed intellectual powers and was quite a linguist as
well as being versed in literature plus she loved to indulge herself in Chinese history.
Athalia always made a dynamic fashion statement bedecked in the most prestigious elegantly designed and
meticulously tailored attire that smacked of ultra-luxurious exclusivity. She immediately stood out in any crowd
because from the tips of her high fashion Sacks Fifth Avenue shoes to the top of her puffed and primped coiffeur
Athalia was outwardly practiced perfection and bewitchingly beautiful.
Beauty is only skin deep but ugly is to the bone.
If you ever had the opportunity to look into Athalia’s penetrating eyes past her clinched teeth smile and her
meticulous makeup with her surgical alterations there you would see where all of that beauty and high-fashion
ceased to exist. There was absolutely no mistaking the power that Athalia conveyed with her commanding and
domineering cold calculating intimidating icy stare of daggers.
This was not a happy well adjusted person looking back at you.
Athalia was not a publicly spirited do-gooder but a vicious spoiled self-centered egotist brat that never grew up. She
had strong political opinions and the unrestrained irresistible temptation to be in the forefront lime-light at all times.
This made her a regular fixture at town commission meetings where she made sure that she stirred up unpopular
controversy on topics that made her numerous bitter enemies.
My classic recollection of Athalia making a complete ass of herself at a commission meeting was when a group of
disgruntled citizens that resided over on Anastasia Island voiced a complaint about the commercial fishing vessels
incessantly beeping their horns for the Bridge of Lions to open early in the pre-dawn mornings.
This former national TV hostess Athalia Ponsell Lindsley indignantly took the floor and condescendingly explained to
the entire group that there was a very simple solution to this problem.
Just dig the channel deeper…dah!
It was just about at this point in time that Jane and I got to have our first confrontational conversation with the
stunning Athalia Ponsell Lindsey.
One delightfully lovely afternoon as Jane and I were out for a ride on our bicycles enjoying the quaint and quiet little
side streets of the Old City together we rolled south on Marine Street, which was a regular route for us.
We passed the prim and proper home of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley.
We waved a greeting to Athalia whom we had encountered countless times around town. Always impeccably
fashionably dressed and with a faultless coiffure as she spoke to some people in her side yard, she waved back.
Without an instants hesitation Athalia’s dog resembling a toilet brush with legs and wearing a muzzle struck off
across the yard on a direct assault run as it bolted as fast as its legs could carry it directly to Jane on her bicycle.
Jane screamed as the muzzled dog actually drew blood in its persistent killer instinct attack on Jane’s leg.
We stopped, voiced our complaint and found Athalia less than apologetic for our inconvenience and intrusion into
her valuable time.
As a matter of fact we got the distinct impression that our presence was somehow destroying her otherwise perfect
day.
Athalia’s attack dog was an all white Alaskan malamute or Eskimo dog that had the exact same aggressive barred
tooth attitude and behavior as its owner. As a matter of fact I could even see a striking family resemblance in their
badgering personality and even in their similarity of coiffure appearance.
Disgruntled and peeved Athalia got into many a shouting match with her neighbors over her dogs that not only
attacked but also incessantly and relentlessly barked.
One of those neighbors happened to be a man named Alan Stanford.
Alan was about to find himself in a pissing contest with a real skunk.
This is a quote from Sheriff Garrett; “This whole thing started as a silly little neighborhood argument over dogs and
generated a lot of hate between the two parties.”
The animosity escalated, Athalia was clearly irritated and angry and let this petty little annoyance that to her had
grown into a gigantic beast that had to be slain lead her to take her discontent to the town commission meetings that
she so dearly loved and attended religiously.
Alan Stanford had gotten her goat and that just wasn’t acceptable to Athalia who maintained an imperious self-
righteous do-no-wrong attitude.
Athalia just wouldn’t let this sleeping dog lie. Her spiteful mind had her beyond irked to the point that she was super
peeved!
Athalia waged a relentless neurotic all-out ruthless campaign and went straight for the jugular to get her neighbor
and avowed enemy Alan Stanford fired from his employment as St. Johns County engineer attacking his credentials
and also his salary at commission meetings.
Make no mistake about it, this was war!
Athalia with blood in her eye was going to slay this demon.
Athalia signed a formal complaint to make Alan Stanford quit using his title as “County Engineer”. It turned out that
Stanford was a certified marine engineer but had failed the state civil engineering exam.
Athalia clearly wanted to drive home her point that she was disgruntled, discontented, dissatisfied and a displeased
woman that nobody in this stagnant little suck hole of St. Augustine was ever going to tell to hush her hounds.
A quote from one of the other neighbors was; “So many people just hated her in St. Augustine, though I don’t think
she was disliked when she lived in Jacksonville.”
Well, here you have the grounds for murder.
What happened next will not come as any surprise.
January 23, 1974, 56 year old Athalia Ponsell Lindsley began her day much like every other day at her prestigious
bay front home on Marine Street in Old St. Augustine. After breakfast at McCartney’s Drug Store and Lunch Counter
Athalia and her husband Mayor James Lindsley drove to Jacksonville to do some unusual shopping, purchasing
unusual ingredients for an extraordinary Chinese meal Athalia had planned to cook that evening.
After returning to St. Augustine Athalia went home to feed her dogs before joining her husband for lunch over at
Jimmie Ponce’s Conch House Restaurant on Anastasia Island. At this time the Conch House Restaurant was
unquestionably the ultimate in St. Augustine dining. The owner jovial friendly and accommodating Jimmie Ponce was
a direct descendant of the first European to discover Florida, Don Juan Ponce de Leon.
As a matter of fact Jimmie had previously toured the country and made numerous national TV appearances dressed
as his ancestor, Don Juan Ponce de Leon, while promoting St. Augustine.
Jimmie Ponce, perhaps the most well known person in St. Augustine at the time made it a point to cordially address
each and every one of his patrons with a welcoming greeting like long lost friends always accompanied with his
winning smile and using first names.
The restaurant had a unique touch of authenticity being decorated with Jimmie Ponce’s own hand and his extensive
collection of area antiques collected over a lifetime. The setting couldn’t have been better for this unique
establishment. It was built out over the water in the prime location of Salt Run, a bay that was part of the original
channel leading in from the sea where Jimmie Ponce’s prestigious ancestor had sailed in as conquistador centuries
earlier. This channel was the only entrance from the sea until 1950 when the new inlet was dredged.
Jimmie Ponce took a special pride in impressing every one of his restaurant patrons. Everything was prepared and
served with the most outrageously extravagant and lavish presentation to be found anywhere. As Jimmie Ponce
always used to say; “my customers do my advertising for me.”
All this wasn’t cheap but then Athalia wasn’t exactly your average citizen and could easily afford anything her
pampered little heart desired.
Later that afternoon when Athalia returned home she first put her groceries on the kitchen floor of her Marine Street
house and then went to retrieve her mail.
Surprise! Somebody came to visit Athalia wielding a machete.
A 19 year old neighbor said he heard moans and chopping sounds and rushed outside to see the back of a middle
aged man dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers leaving the premises.
Athalia wouldn’t aggravate anybody anymore.
A trail of blood was traced from the mutilated body to the concrete wall separating Athalia Ponsell Lindsey’s home
from her nemesis next door neighbor Alan Stanford. The last drop of blood was found outside Alan Stanford’s
garage.
Athalia was almost decapitated during the attack, a finger sliced off and her forearm and wrist nearly severed.
It was said that she was a person that aroused strong emotions.
The scene was so very gruesome and bloody that a helpful neighbor came in and hosed off the area of the steps
and walkway before police arrived…sound familiar?
Sheriff Garrett said; “the crime scene was handled so poorly, which happens quite frequently”.
Well, this was just the thing to send a small town like little old St. Augustine into a panicked frenzy and January 23,
1974 people began bolting their doors.
Sheriff Garret offered a $500.00 reward for a weapon and bloodstained clothing that could be traced to the killer.
Three weeks later, a county mechanic, Dewey Lee, turned in a machete and blood stained bundle containing a
watch, towel, shoes, shirt, belt and dark trousers with red stripes. Lee said he found the items in the marsh.
A week later the number one suspect in the case Alan Stanford was arrested. Stanford went on trial a year to the
day after the slaying, with the celebrated illustrious and eminent Jacksonville attorneys Walter Arnold and Edward
Booth represented Sanford as his criminal defense team.
The trial was the biggest event in town and long lines of eager citizens queued up to get into observe this
sensational and thrilling local real life drama unfold.
Our friend Beverly Baker made it a point to attend every session of the thirteen day trial. Every evening we would
get together and listen to Beverly’s account of that day’s proceeding.
This was truly intriguingly high suspense, especially for little St. Augustine.
The bloody shirt was traced to Sanford through a laundry mark and the watch through a repair ticket.
The salt marsh and tides had cleaned the machete of fingerprints.
Prosecutors then charged Alan Stanford with killing Athalia Ponsell in a fit of rage over her public attacks on him.
The defense team of Booth and Arnold was cunning and clever and maintained that Alan Stanford had been framed
and that others had more motives to kill Athalia Lindsley. The defense contended that anyone could have tampered
with the evidence before it went to the lab for testing.
Stanford contended the shirt and watch had been stolen from his home and denied owning the other items.
The defense team must have been the best because Alan Stanford was acquitted and the jury who found
reasonable doubt only took two hours to deliver the verdict.
As one of the defense lawyers Arnold said; “We showed the jury that the evidence the state presented was
unreliable and that they could not convict beyond a reasonable doubt”.
One of the witnesses that had been called to testify as a prosecution witness said that she is often asked who she
thinks committed the slaying. “I have no right to point a finger at anybody because I wasn’t an eye witness. I do
believe there were eye witnesses who would not come forward. The only reason I can think of is they were too
terrified or they knew and liked the killer better than her”.
The book Bloody Sunset by Nancy Powell and Jim Mast tells the story and a TV show on the Arts and Entertainment
Network, “City Confidential” did a special feature about this high drama story in a quiet little town with its surprise
verdict. The producer of City Confidential, David Wallach had this to say about the case; “It’s 25 years later, and the
crime is still affecting the community. People still have strong feelings about it.”
next chapter
ATHALIA PONSELL LINDSLEY’S SLAYING
Jane and I had become regulars in downtown St. Augustine and so was this attractive striking standoffish woman we
saw often at McCartney’s Drug Store and Lunch Counter.
McCartney’s was located at the corner of King and St. George Streets just one block west of the bay front and
across the street from the city’s central park.
This was where the local hoi polloi congregated on a daily basis.
McCartney’s Drug Store had its regular breakfast clientele who could be counted on to appear and materialize at the
appointed time every day. They would then take their regular seat and have their regular breakfast delivered by
their regular welcoming waitress always greeting by first names.
This was the inner sanctum of the who’s who in little Old St. Augustine.
The mayor was there along with his political cronies and the social elite gathered with the town’s business buddies
building their entrepreneurial bridges. Mixed collectively with the group was a hodgepodge of the old city’s regular
street people who all commingled daily at McCartney’s Drug Store.
McCartney’s was an old and long established neighborhood relic from days gone by of the traditional Deep South
where the soda fountain, tobacco counter and news stand sold the particular products their patrons regularly
depended upon.
After a leisurely breakfast that invariably features the local special which consistently included grits, the customer on
the way out the door would stop to pay his tab.
The daily standard without fail included the price of the newspaper he had picked up on the way in and read at
breakfast plus the clerk would automatically have the brand of cigar or cigarettes and candy that that patron always
purchased ready and waiting.
One and all greeted each other respectfully by first names with a salutation and some trivial chit-chat addressing
each other in the down south tradition like this; Miss Jane or Mr. John.
As the years passed by, being rich, beautiful and talented weren’t enough to offset the advancing ravages of time
that this slick shrewd cunning lady Athalia needed to stay on top in New York City’s highly competitive limelight.
So Athalia, out of a desperate necessity to be noticed, came to the conclusion that she was becoming a little fish in
a very big pond. Her self-centered ultra ego personality just couldn’t cope with the crushing reality of her youth
slipping away.
Seeking the spot light and wanting to be the big fish again Athalia headed south to the little pond.
Athalia spread her aging wings and moved back to the little pond, Jacksonville. Still energized by New York City’s
fast paced dynamics she wrote a book on gardening and even patented an electrical devise for scouring pots. Her
interest in politics led her to run for a state House seat but she was unsuccessful.
She next became a licensed real estate agent and sold her prestigious family home on Riverside Avenue in
Jacksonville.
In 1972 the older but still strikingly beautiful Athalia moved to St. Augustine where she bought a lovely white two
story home with a bay view on Marine Street between the National Cemetery and the State National Guard
headquarters.
Above is Athalia’s formerly white Marine Street home.
Athalia and her husband Mayor James Lindsley resided in separate residences because Athalia maintained that she
just couldn’t bear to leave her valuable paintings and antiques in her St. Augustine home unguarded.
This beautifully polished fashionably dressed woman was aroused with strong physically powerful emotions and
forthright outspoken opinions because she always had something interesting and provocative to say.
Besides being extravagantly beautiful this super woman possessed intellectual powers and was quite a linguist as
well as being versed in literature plus she loved to indulge herself in Chinese history.
Athalia always made a dynamic fashion statement bedecked in the most prestigious elegantly designed and
meticulously tailored attire that smacked of ultra-luxurious exclusivity. She immediately stood out in any crowd
because from the tips of her high fashion Sacks Fifth Avenue shoes to the top of her puffed and primped coiffeur
Athalia was outwardly practiced perfection and bewitchingly beautiful.
Beauty is only skin deep but ugly is to the bone.
If you ever had the opportunity to look into Athalia’s penetrating eyes past her clinched teeth smile and her
meticulous makeup with her surgical alterations there you would see where all of that beauty and high-fashion
ceased to exist. There was absolutely no mistaking the power that Athalia conveyed with her commanding and
domineering cold calculating intimidating icy stare of daggers.
This was not a happy well adjusted person looking back at you.
Athalia was not a publicly spirited do-gooder but a vicious spoiled self-centered egotist brat that never grew up. She
had strong political opinions and the unrestrained irresistible temptation to be in the forefront lime-light at all times.
This made her a regular fixture at town commission meetings where she made sure that she stirred up unpopular
controversy on topics that made her numerous bitter enemies.
My classic recollection of Athalia making a complete ass of herself at a commission meeting was when a group of
disgruntled citizens that resided over on Anastasia Island voiced a complaint about the commercial fishing vessels
incessantly beeping their horns for the Bridge of Lions to open early in the pre-dawn mornings.
This former national TV hostess Athalia Ponsell Lindsley indignantly took the floor and condescendingly explained to
the entire group that there was a very simple solution to this problem.
Just dig the channel deeper…dah!
It was just about at this point in time that Jane and I got to have our first confrontational conversation with the
stunning Athalia Ponsell Lindsey.
One delightfully lovely afternoon as Jane and I were out for a ride on our bicycles enjoying the quaint and quiet little
side streets of the Old City together we rolled south on Marine Street, which was a regular route for us.
We passed the prim and proper home of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley.
We waved a greeting to Athalia whom we had encountered countless times around town. Always impeccably
fashionably dressed and with a faultless coiffure as she spoke to some people in her side yard, she waved back.
Without an instants hesitation Athalia’s dog resembling a toilet brush with legs and wearing a muzzle struck off
across the yard on a direct assault run as it bolted as fast as its legs could carry it directly to Jane on her bicycle.
Jane screamed as the muzzled dog actually drew blood in its persistent killer instinct attack on Jane’s leg.
We stopped, voiced our complaint and found Athalia less than apologetic for our inconvenience and intrusion into
her valuable time.
As a matter of fact we got the distinct impression that our presence was somehow destroying her otherwise perfect
day.
Athalia’s attack dog was an all white Alaskan malamute or Eskimo dog that had the exact same aggressive barred
tooth attitude and behavior as its owner. As a matter of fact I could even see a striking family resemblance in their
badgering personality and even in their similarity of coiffure appearance.
Disgruntled and peeved Athalia got into many a shouting match with her neighbors over her dogs that not only
attacked but also incessantly and relentlessly barked.
One of those neighbors happened to be a man named Alan Stanford.
Alan was about to find himself in a pissing contest with a real skunk.
This is a quote from Sheriff Garrett; “This whole thing started as a silly little neighborhood argument over dogs and
generated a lot of hate between the two parties.”
The animosity escalated, Athalia was clearly irritated and angry and let this petty little annoyance that to her had
grown into a gigantic beast that had to be slain lead her to take her discontent to the town commission meetings that
she so dearly loved and attended religiously.
Alan Stanford had gotten her goat and that just wasn’t acceptable to Athalia who maintained an imperious self-
righteous do-no-wrong attitude.
Athalia just wouldn’t let this sleeping dog lie. Her spiteful mind had her beyond irked to the point that she was super
peeved!
Athalia waged a relentless neurotic all-out ruthless campaign and went straight for the jugular to get her neighbor
and avowed enemy Alan Stanford fired from his employment as St. Johns County engineer attacking his credentials
and also his salary at commission meetings.
Make no mistake about it, this was war!
Athalia with blood in her eye was going to slay this demon.
Athalia signed a formal complaint to make Alan Stanford quit using his title as “County Engineer”. It turned out that
Stanford was a certified marine engineer but had failed the state civil engineering exam.
Athalia clearly wanted to drive home her point that she was disgruntled, discontented, dissatisfied and a displeased
woman that nobody in this stagnant little suck hole of St. Augustine was ever going to tell to hush her hounds.
A quote from one of the other neighbors was; “So many people just hated her in St. Augustine, though I don’t think
she was disliked when she lived in Jacksonville.”
Well, here you have the grounds for murder.
What happened next will not come as any surprise.
January 23, 1974, 56 year old Athalia Ponsell Lindsley began her day much like every other day at her prestigious
bay front home on Marine Street in Old St. Augustine. After breakfast at McCartney’s Drug Store and Lunch Counter
Athalia and her husband Mayor James Lindsley drove to Jacksonville to do some unusual shopping, purchasing
unusual ingredients for an extraordinary Chinese meal Athalia had planned to cook that evening.
After returning to St. Augustine Athalia went home to feed her dogs before joining her husband for lunch over at
Jimmie Ponce’s Conch House Restaurant on Anastasia Island. At this time the Conch House Restaurant was
unquestionably the ultimate in St. Augustine dining. The owner jovial friendly and accommodating Jimmie Ponce was
a direct descendant of the first European to discover Florida, Don Juan Ponce de Leon.
As a matter of fact Jimmie had previously toured the country and made numerous national TV appearances dressed
as his ancestor, Don Juan Ponce de Leon, while promoting St. Augustine.
Jimmie Ponce, perhaps the most well known person in St. Augustine at the time made it a point to cordially address
each and every one of his patrons with a welcoming greeting like long lost friends always accompanied with his
winning smile and using first names.
The restaurant had a unique touch of authenticity being decorated with Jimmie Ponce’s own hand and his extensive
collection of area antiques collected over a lifetime. The setting couldn’t have been better for this unique
establishment. It was built out over the water in the prime location of Salt Run, a bay that was part of the original
channel leading in from the sea where Jimmie Ponce’s prestigious ancestor had sailed in as conquistador centuries
earlier. This channel was the only entrance from the sea until 1950 when the new inlet was dredged.
Jimmie Ponce took a special pride in impressing every one of his restaurant patrons. Everything was prepared and
served with the most outrageously extravagant and lavish presentation to be found anywhere. As Jimmie Ponce
always used to say; “my customers do my advertising for me.”
All this wasn’t cheap but then Athalia wasn’t exactly your average citizen and could easily afford anything her
pampered little heart desired.
Later that afternoon when Athalia returned home she first put her groceries on the kitchen floor of her Marine Street
house and then went to retrieve her mail.
Surprise! Somebody came to visit Athalia wielding a machete.
A 19 year old neighbor said he heard moans and chopping sounds and rushed outside to see the back of a middle
aged man dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers leaving the premises.
Athalia wouldn’t aggravate anybody anymore.
A trail of blood was traced from the mutilated body to the concrete wall separating Athalia Ponsell Lindsey’s home
from her nemesis next door neighbor Alan Stanford. The last drop of blood was found outside Alan Stanford’s
garage.
Athalia was almost decapitated during the attack, a finger sliced off and her forearm and wrist nearly severed.
It was said that she was a person that aroused strong emotions.
The scene was so very gruesome and bloody that a helpful neighbor came in and hosed off the area of the steps
and walkway before police arrived…sound familiar?
Sheriff Garrett said; “the crime scene was handled so poorly, which happens quite frequently”.
Well, this was just the thing to send a small town like little old St. Augustine into a panicked frenzy and January 23,
1974 people began bolting their doors.
Sheriff Garret offered a $500.00 reward for a weapon and bloodstained clothing that could be traced to the killer.
Three weeks later, a county mechanic, Dewey Lee, turned in a machete and blood stained bundle containing a
watch, towel, shoes, shirt, belt and dark trousers with red stripes. Lee said he found the items in the marsh.
A week later the number one suspect in the case Alan Stanford was arrested. Stanford went on trial a year to the
day after the slaying, with the celebrated illustrious and eminent Jacksonville attorneys Walter Arnold and Edward
Booth represented Sanford as his criminal defense team.
The trial was the biggest event in town and long lines of eager citizens queued up to get into observe this
sensational and thrilling local real life drama unfold.
Our friend Beverly Baker made it a point to attend every session of the thirteen day trial. Every evening we would
get together and listen to Beverly’s account of that day’s proceeding.
This was truly intriguingly high suspense, especially for little St. Augustine.
The bloody shirt was traced to Sanford through a laundry mark and the watch through a repair ticket.
The salt marsh and tides had cleaned the machete of fingerprints.
Prosecutors then charged Alan Stanford with killing Athalia Ponsell in a fit of rage over her public attacks on him.
The defense team of Booth and Arnold was cunning and clever and maintained that Alan Stanford had been framed
and that others had more motives to kill Athalia Lindsley. The defense contended that anyone could have tampered
with the evidence before it went to the lab for testing.
Stanford contended the shirt and watch had been stolen from his home and denied owning the other items.
The defense team must have been the best because Alan Stanford was acquitted and the jury who found
reasonable doubt only took two hours to deliver the verdict.
As one of the defense lawyers Arnold said; “We showed the jury that the evidence the state presented was
unreliable and that they could not convict beyond a reasonable doubt”.
One of the witnesses that had been called to testify as a prosecution witness said that she is often asked who she
thinks committed the slaying. “I have no right to point a finger at anybody because I wasn’t an eye witness. I do
believe there were eye witnesses who would not come forward. The only reason I can think of is they were too
terrified or they knew and liked the killer better than her”.
The book Bloody Sunset by Nancy Powell and Jim Mast tells the story and a TV show on the Arts and Entertainment
Network, “City Confidential” did a special feature about this high drama story in a quiet little town with its surprise
verdict. The producer of City Confidential, David Wallach had this to say about the case; “It’s 25 years later, and the
crime is still affecting the community. People still have strong feelings about it.”
next chapter
This is where we met the mayor and former commissioner
James Lindsley along with his fabulously maintained and
very vain wife Athalia Ponsell Lindsley.
The mayor was Athalia’s fourth husband.
Athalia Ponsell was the pampered daughter of a very rich and
famous utilities magnet. She grew up in the privileged lap of luxury in
a magnificent marble mansion on the Isle of Pines south of Cuba in
the Caribbean Sea.
(The Isle of Pines was an American possession back then and was
later traded to Cuba in exchange for the property now known as
Guantánamo Bay on the Cuban mainland. Currently the Isle of Pines
is part of Cuba and is called Isle of Youth.)
When pretty little Athalia Ponsell was just 12 years old her wealthy
parents moved to another mansion this time in Jacksonville, Florida
on Riverside Avenue. This was in its day the very best and most
prestigious and prominent address in town.
Being rich, beautiful and talented the gorgeous Athalia took her
promising attributes and went off to New York City where she spent
the next 20 years as a model, chorus line dancer and hostess on
Bud Collier’s television game show “Winner Take All”.
James Lindsley along with his fabulously maintained and
very vain wife Athalia Ponsell Lindsley.
The mayor was Athalia’s fourth husband.
Athalia Ponsell was the pampered daughter of a very rich and
famous utilities magnet. She grew up in the privileged lap of luxury in
a magnificent marble mansion on the Isle of Pines south of Cuba in
the Caribbean Sea.
(The Isle of Pines was an American possession back then and was
later traded to Cuba in exchange for the property now known as
Guantánamo Bay on the Cuban mainland. Currently the Isle of Pines
is part of Cuba and is called Isle of Youth.)
When pretty little Athalia Ponsell was just 12 years old her wealthy
parents moved to another mansion this time in Jacksonville, Florida
on Riverside Avenue. This was in its day the very best and most
prestigious and prominent address in town.
Being rich, beautiful and talented the gorgeous Athalia took her
promising attributes and went off to New York City where she spent
the next 20 years as a model, chorus line dancer and hostess on
Bud Collier’s television game show “Winner Take All”.