Mr. and Mrs. Keller were natives of Switzerland, the former being born in Zurich. They came to the US about five years ago. Keller secured employment as gardener in Philadelphia. He afterwards went to Washington, D.C. then to Auburn, New York two years back.
Mary Keller, 29 years old, shot and killed her husband, Emil, 30 years old, and shot their 9 months old babe, Anna, Thursday night January 25, 1894 about 8:30 at their residence, No. 10 Burt avenue.
The baby was the second victim of the insane woman’s pistol. The little one’s crib was within easy reach of the bed. It is thought that Mrs. Keller raised herself to a sitting posture and aimed the pistol at the little one’s heart. If she did it was the only one of the three shots in which her aim was not unerring. Then she turned the pistol against her own head and made the wound as described, which resulted in her death.
Shortly after 6 o’clock Friday night death came to the relief of little Anna Keller at the City hospital. It was found that the bullet from the mother’s revolver had penetrated the infant’s right lung and come out on the left side.
Father, mother and daughter were buried in the same casket, which was a special order, about 4 inches deeper and 9 inches wider than the ordinary, and covered with gray embossed plush. The head of Mrs. Keller rested on the left shoulder of her husband, thus hiding from view the wound in her temple and partly covering a discoloration of the right eye. There were traces of suffering in the woman’s face but her husband looks as if he were in slumber. His left arm encircled the body of his wife while his right rested on his hip. Between the mother and father was the infant, a handsome, plump child. Its right hand was clasped by the left of its mother while its left rested on the mother’s left arm. The mother and the infant were laid out in plain white shrouds while the husband and father had a coat and vest of plain black and trousers of a dark pattern.
The reasons behind Mary’s actions remain a tragic mystery, lost to time and silence. Newspapers of the day speculated about domestic strain, illness, or undiagnosed mental health issues, though no definitive explanation was ever determined. What is certain is the deep sadness that gripped the Auburn community in the aftermath.
The photo, preserved by the Thanatos Archive, offers a rare, haunting glimpse into 19th-century mourning practices and the way communities coped with such grim events. The image evokes not only grief but also a quiet contemplation of how fragile the line is between ordinary life and tragedy. The Keller family’s story, captured in one chilling moment, serves as a reminder of the hidden struggles people carry-and the profound human need to find peace, even in death.