Judge Richard Reid was a respected man in the late 1800s — known for his intelligence, fairness, Christian beliefs, being a Sunday school teacher and having a calm demeanor both in and out of the courtroom. In a world where arguments were often settled with fists or firearms, Reid believed in the power of reason & law. But in 1884, that belief would cost him everything.
During a heated dispute with attorney John Jay Cornelison on Main Street in downtown Mt. Sterling, words turned to violence. Cornelison brutally beat the judge in broad daylight on Mount Sterling’s courthouse square. Witnesses recalled that Reid never fought back — he simply turned his back, refusing to raise a hand in anger. Some say he muttered, “I am no fighter.”
Not long after Judge Reid took his own life. Many say it was due to the public shame, & some say it was due to the pressure by the townsfolks to exact revenge as was customary back then. The news of Reids beating and subsequent suicide became NATIONAL news, the story appeared on front pages in newspapers all across the country. The community was shaken. Many called his death a tragedy of principle — a man who valued peace over pride, even at the cost of his life.
Judge Reid was buried in Machpelah Cemetery, where a beautiful marble monument was raised in his memory. It (allegedly) stood facing the town — a final gesture toward the community he served. But soon, stories began to spread. Visitors whispered that the statue had turned. Now there is no evidence of this that I've found however the story was told to me many years ago as it was told long before me. Ive spoken with many locals & Some said it now faces away from Mount Sterling by way of supernatural means, . Others swore they heard it turned its back toward the courthouse originally.— as if mirroring the judge’s final act of refusal. Some have heard that story, some heard different versions. Nobody seems to know with certainty but in my experience, folklore details gets added to the story over the generations but at its roots, there is typically some truth in there somewhere.
Caretakers denied knowledge of anyone ever moving it. No evidence proved the monument had ever shifted.
Yet, in the years that followed, the legend took hold:
“Judge Reid turned his back on violence in life — and on the world in death.”
Whether caused by time, erosion, lies or something otherworldly, no one can say for certain.
Today, visitors still wander through Machpelah Cemetery, drawn by the story of the turning statue. Some claim they feel a chill when standing before the monument. Others hear the faint sound of footsteps, or the echo of a gavel carried on the Kentucky wind. Historians may call it coincidence or active imaginations. — the earth shifting beneath the old marble base — but local folklore suggests otherwise. Because legends, as we know, always begin with a shred of truth.
Judge Richard Reid’s story is more than a ghost tale — it’s a reflection of character, principle, and the strange way memory refuses to fade. Perhaps the statue did turn.
Perhaps it didn’t, But somewhere in the misty rows of Machpelah Cemetery, a man who refused to strike back may still be turning away — not out of fear, but out of eternal conviction.
The Mount Sterling Advocate, 1884 archives (public domain excerpts)
Kentucky Historical Society local oral traditions
Machpelah Cemetery Records, Montgomery County
Regional folklore accounts collected from local historians and residents