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My mother's father died during her freshman year at college, before she married and before I was born.

We are a family of storytellers, so I only know him by what I've been told.

He was handsome, affectionate, hardworking, fun loving, full of ingenuity, a businessman, a farmer and dedicated to his family. My mother loved him dearly and has missed him all of her life. I wish that I had known him.

I have so many questions for him, one of the main ones being, "What was it like to serve on a jury that ensured that Sidna Allen would spend 35 years in the state penitentiary?"

It is history now, the events that took place in Hillsville in 1912. Don't assume, however, that much has been forgotten.

Feelings still run high on both sides of this tangled progression of events that led to the worst tragedy experienced in this region in the 20th century.

In the "shootout" at the Carroll County Courthouse, five were killed, seven wounded, and an estimated 100 shots fired in a period of about three minutes.

Among the dead were the judge, the sheriff and the commonwealth's attorney. The wounded included the clerk of the court, a witness and a juror.

In later trials, testimony indicated that the clerk of the court and the sheriff may have been the first to draw their guns and to fire. Allen family members were also implicated.

Later, on his deathbed, another man confessed to having fired first. It was discovered, later, that Sidna Allen, the clerk of the court and a deputy had shot the judge.

Claude Allen and the clerk of the court had shot the sheriff. A deputy had killed an innocent bystander.

Chaos reigned that day. All testified that they had fired in self-defense, and none of the attendants had been searched for weapons.

In the six trials that followed, jurors decided that some Allen family members would be imprisoned and some would be executed. Such was the carnage that resulted from the that day's trial that found Floyd Allen guilty of "interfering with the law," an infraction that would have carried a sentence of no more than a year in jail, and which many believed would have been commuted.

Before the sentence could be handed down, however, gunfire erupted.

My grandfather was among 70 men called from outside the region when, after the fifth trial, no eligible jurors could be found. If he had been anything like my mother, he would have been fair-minded and not quick to judge.

But how did this shocking event affect him, and might it have changed him in any way?

It is ironic that, during their deliberation, 10 of the 12 men voted to acquit Sidna Allen of the charge of involuntary manslaughter.

They later delivered a verdict of guilty of voluntary manslaughter, adding five years to his accumulated sentence of 30 from his two previous trials.

I have to wonder what his experience was like. There were no paved roads in the region. His train trip from his farm in Orange County must have been a long one. The Christmas season was approaching.

Had he sent his wife and baby daughter to stay with relatives in Richmond? What had he taken with him? Where had he stayed?

Wytheville, where the trials were taking place, must have been hectic with journalists arriving from all over the country.

The headlines dominated the national news for weeks until the sinking of the Titanic replaced them. There was high drama: murder, conspiracies, grudges, political intrigue, a faithless lover, private detectives, manhunts. It is small wonder that a rock opera has been written about it in recent years.

I continue to research this story, looking for my grandfather. I have read old newspapers, read memoirs, talked with descendants of those involved.

The only place I have found him is in a photograph taken of the jury on which he served. He stands on the steps of the courthouse in Wytheville among his peers. He wears a warm overcoat. He is looking at me with warmth and calm. That may be all I will ever find.