The Roslyn Rise Village Voice often looks back at poignant moments from Roslyn's past, marking anniversaries of local events that shaped the suburb's history. One of the most tragic occurred around 100 years ago in November 1925 when a quiet street in Roslyn became the scene of unimaginable sorrow.
In the small family home at 28 Brighton Street, Kaikorai, known today as part of the broader Roslyn area, Ellen Hart lived with her husband Alexander, a carpenter, and their three young children: Lindsay (5), Andrew (4), and baby Nola (about 15 months old). The family had moved there from Mosgiel roughly 14 months earlier, seeking a fresh start in our beautiful hilly suburb overlooking Dunedin.
The night before November 9, 1925, tension filled the house. An argument erupted between Ellen and Alexander, fueled in part by recent involvement in gospel meetings and religious confessions. Alexander had spoken harshly, suggesting he could not forgive certain past "sins" and implying doubts about paternity that struck deep. He left for work the next morning after kissing his family goodbye, unaware of what would happen next.
As the morning light filtered into the modest home, Ellen prepared the boys for school, Lindsay in his blue pants and striped tie, Andrew clutching a stocking. Nola rested in her wicker pram. But in a sudden, overwhelming impulse, Ellen took a razor and inflicted fatal wounds to their throats. The boys were found huddled together on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood; little Nola lay strapped in her pram in the front room, her tiny form still. Ellen then turned the blade on herself, making superficial cuts to her throat.
Moments later, she called out to her neighbor, Mrs. Margaret Upton, who lived next door. A stone thrown against Upton's roof drew her attention. Ellen, bloodied and wearing a a coat over her shoulders, confessed immediately: "I've killed my kids; yes, the whole lot of them, and I did love the whole lot of them." Upton and her husband entered the house and discovered the horrific scene. Police arrived swiftly, and Ellen was taken into custody, calm at first but later tearful, murmuring, "I shouldn't have done it."
She spoke of religion driving her actions "nothing but religion".and the uncontrollable impulse after the previous night's quarrel. Doctors later examined her, noting impaired vision from a hereditary condition, low intelligence, and signs of confusion. She was held at Seacliff Mental Hospital for observation
The community was in shock. Neighbors described Ellen as a devoted mother who doted on her children. No note explained the act fully, though a scrap with an address ("Wilkie Road, Kensington") hinted at fleeting thoughts of separation or escape.
A century later, the story still haunts us because it speaks to vulnerabilities we all share, the need for understanding, for mental health support, and for communities that truly look after each other. In remembering Lindsay, Andrew, and little Nola, we honour not only their short lives but also the enduring call to compassion, to reach out before despair takes hold, to listen without judgment, and to hold one another through the darkest moments. For in looking after each other, we guard against the unthinkable and keep the light of humanity burning even in the face of unimaginable loss.