Her name was not even mentioned in the many newspaper articles. Instead, the news was the horrific description of the gaping hole that the shotgun blast left when it ripped her face apart.
The biggest mistake in her short life would be the one that would end her life:. She married the evil monster who took aim at her face before pulling the trigger.
Her name was Armettie Fowler. She was born May 12, 1874, the daughter of John Tipton Fowler (1842–1922) and Nancy Reeves (1849–1939).
She was called Mittie by her family, and she was one of eleven children born to John and Nancy Fowler.
The John Tipton Fowler family had grieved the loss of a child before the brutal murder of their beloved Mittie. They lost their youngest son, Jesse, in 1892. The little boy was barely two years old when they laid him to rest at Gilead Cemetery in Jonesville.
Less than a month after Mittie’s tragic death, the John Tipton Fowler family would again be standing before a mound of red clay in the graveyard at Gilead. Their five-year old daughter, Syntha Kate, died on August 23.
Benjamin Tucker “B.T.” West was born April 2, 1871, the son of Benjamin W. West (1837-1914) and Emeline P. Sumner (1838–1905).
The 1880 census confirms that both families lived in Union County. The John Tipton Fowler family resided in Jonesville; the Benjamin W. West family, in Bogansville. As the crow flies, the two townships are less than ten miles apart.
It was the unluckiest of days when the paths of Mittie Fowler and B.T. West crossed. Her life would be forever changed by that meeting. Her world would be shattered like the breaking of glass into tiny, sharp shards of pain.
For whatever reason, Mittie fell in love and, about 1894, married the man who would make her existence miserable. Perhaps the only joy in her life was the March 9, 1895 birth of her son Jesse B. West, named after her brother Jesse who died three years before.
There is no way to truly know the sheer hell that Mittie suffered at the hands of the man she loved enough to marry and bear his son. Women had little recourse when they were trapped in an abusive marriage.
In 1898, few women worked outside the home, divorce was discouraged, and a woman’s family would have been hesitant to interfere between a man and his wife. There was a deeply entrenched patriarchal belief that a man’s household was his private domain.
Women were expected to endure the conditions under which they were living. Their lot in life was to have babies, cook and clean, wash the clothes, work in the fields, and most of all, be obedient to their husbands.
It probably did not take long for Mittie to realize B.T. West was a jealous man. He threatened her, beat her, mistreated her.
And he killed her.
The Fairfield News and Herald, Winnsboro SC, Aug 3, 1898, page 1
The first trial began quickly. Looking back one hundred and twenty-seven years later, it appears to be an open-and-shut case. Mittie’s hands were in her lap. Her three-year-old son Jesse was by her side. There was no evidence that she had shot herself.
She was murdered by her husband.
Nevertheless, the jury did not agree on a verdit, and a mistrial was declared.
The Lancaster News. Wed, Sep 28, 1898 ·Page 1
B.T. West was tried a second time in January 1899, and again, the jury did not agree on a verdict. Another mistrial resulted, and justice for Mittie Fowler seemed far, far away.
The State, Columbia SC January 24, 1899, page 3
A third trial finally ended with a guilty verdict for the murderer B.T. West. He was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to only seven years in the state penitentiary.
The State, Columbia SC, Sept 27, 1899, page 2
The Union Times, Sept 29, 1899, page 5
One consolation for Mittie’s family may have been that pardons for his crime were refused by the Governor at least twice, in 1901 and 1904. B.T. West was to serve his seven-year sentence in its entirely.
The State, Columbia SC, Aug 19, 1904, page 8
The 1900 census recorded B.T. West as an inmate in the SC State Penitentiary in Columbia. By 1910, he had been released and was back in Bogansville, albeit living alone.
Who would want to marry a man who had brutally murdered his wife?
Ida Wooten.
She and B.T. West — now called “Bee” West — married in 1918. They are found in 1920, 1930, 1940, and 1950 Bogansville census records.
Benjamin Tucker West died June 22, 1953. He lived fifty-five years after he pointed a double-barreled shotgun at Mittie’s face and ended her life.
Jesse B. West was raised by his grandparents, John Tipton Fowler and Nancy Reeves Fowler. He married twice, had children, and lived a long life.
Jessie B. West Obituary
Union — JESSE WEST, 74, husband of MAGGIE BOBO WEST of Union Route 1, died at Wallace Thompson [Hospital] at 11 a.m. Wednesday after a brief illness.
Native of Union County; son of the late Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin WEST; member of Fairview Baptist Church; retired from Milliken Corp., Monarch plant.
Surviving: daughter Estelle HELMS of Chester; son, Walter C. WEST of Union; seven grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren.
Services 5 Friday at Fairview Baptist Church; burial at Rosemont Cemetery.
Pallbearers: Willie Young, Ned Greer, Jesse Blitchington, John Pye (Ward), Melvin Sinclair and Alfred Noore. Men’s Sunday School class of Fairview Baptist Church to serve as honorary escorts.
Family will receive friends 7–9 tonight at the Brown-Bolton-Jolly Mortuary; body in church at 3:30 Friday.
The Spartanburg Herald, June 1979, Page C10
Armettie
Her name was a soft song,
a whisper on the breeze.
Then came a sudden, violent sound,
and she fell among the trees
The world kept turning, just the same,
The sun began to rise.
But something precious was now gone,
And mirrored in our eyes.
No final words, no last goodbye,
just a cruel, empty space.
A memory of a hopeful smile,
that time cannot erase.
A house of quiet, where shadows played,
Now holds a stillness, deeply made.
A broken peace, a world undone,
A story whispered, never won.
A child’s eyes, reflecting fear,
A silent witness, holding dear
A fragile hope, a world apart,
A heavy secret in his heart.
The walls remember, the air still holds
The echoes of a tale untold.
A life transformed, a path unknown,
Seeds of trauma, deeply sown.
The world remembers headlines, the fleeting, angry sound,
But her small, lost story lives in hallowed, holy ground.
THE FOWLER FAMILIES OF UNION COUNTY, SC 