The Plantation Owner Gave His Daughter to the Slaves… What Happened to Her in the Barn

In the summer of 1846, a sealed ledger was placed in the Adams County Courthouse basement in Natchez, Mississippi. The ledger remained there untouched for 112 years. When county workers finally opened it during a renovation project in 1958, they found 73 pages of daily records documenting what happened to Margaret Halloway between June 14th and November 9th of 1846. Each entry was written in the same meticulous handwriting, recording weights, behaviors, punishments, and observations. The final entry, dated November 9th, consisted of only four words: The treatment is concluded. Margaret Halloway was the 23-year-old daughter of Edmund Halloway, one of the wealthiest plantation owners in Adams County.

On June 13th, 1846, Edmund announced to his household staff and several enslaved workers that Margaret required specialized treatment for her condition. He had constructed a treatment facility in the large barn behind the main house. Three enslaved men would be placed in charge of Margaret’s daily regimen under Edmund’s direct supervision. The treatment would continue until Margaret showed sufficient improvement. Margaret entered that barn weighing 247 lbs. According to the ledger, she was described as disobedient, gluttonous, and morally compromised. She had refused four marriage proposals, spoken disrespectfully to her father on multiple occasions, and was rumored to have romantic feelings for an inappropriate man. Edmund told his neighbors that he had consulted with physicians in New Orleans who recommended rigorous labor therapy as a cure for female hysteria and moral weakness.

What actually happened in that barn over the next five months was far worse than labor therapy. It was systematic psychological destruction designed to break Margaret’s will completely. And the three men Edmund placed in charge of his daughter were caught in an impossible situation. They were ordered to treat the plantation owner’s daughter like field workers, to push her beyond exhaustion, to show no mercy or kindness. But they were also human beings. Watching a woman being destroyed day by day, they eventually had to make a choice. The story would have remained buried in that courthouse basement except for three things. First, the ledger contained details that contradicted the official story Edmund told his neighbors. Second, archaeologists discovered the barn’s foundation in 2003 during a historical survey, and what they found in the burned remains raised disturbing questions. And third, descendants of one of the three enslaved men kept family records that included testimony about what really happened during those five months. Testimony that was finally made public in 2007. This is the story they tried to bury. This is what happened to Margaret Halloway in that barn.

And this is why everyone who witnessed it either disappeared or took the secret to their graves.

Let us go back to Riverbend Plantation in the spring of 1846 when Edmund Halloway was known as the most moral man in Adams County. Edmund Halloway was 51 years old. In 1846, he had inherited Riverbend Plantation from his father in 1823 when he was 28 years old. The plantation covered 2,000 acres of rich Mississippi soil along the Mississippi River about 12 miles north of Natchez. Edmund grew cotton primarily, but also maintained tobacco fields and extensive vegetable gardens. He owned 137 enslaved people, making him one of the larger slaveholders in the county, though not quite among the absolute elite who owned 300 or more. What distinguished Edmund was not the size of his holdings, but his reputation. He was known throughout Adams County as a model Christian gentleman. He attended First Presbyterian Church every Sunday without fail. He taught Bible study classes on Wednesday evenings. He donated generously to the church’s missionary fund and to the local orphanage. He had sponsored the construction of a new school building in Natchez, paying for most of the costs himself. When neighbors faced financial difficulties, Edmund was often the one who extended loans on generous terms or helped arrange credit.

Edmund had married Sarah Chandler in 1824. Sarah came from a prominent Charleston family and brought a substantial dowry. She was a quiet, religious woman who devoted herself to managing the household and raising their two children. Margaret was born in 1823, shortly before Edmund and Sarah married, though this timing was never discussed publicly. A son, Edmund Jr., was born in 1826, but died of fever before his second birthday. Sarah never fully recovered from that loss. She became withdrawn, spending most of her time in her room reading scripture and writing letters to missionaries abroad. Sarah died in 1839 when Margaret was 16. The official cause was fever, but people whispered that Sarah had simply given up, that she had lost her will to live after her son’s death and had gradually faded away.

Edmund grieved publicly and appropriately. He wore black for a year. He commissioned a marble monument for Sarah’s grave. He spoke movingly at her funeral about her devotion to God and family. No one questioned that Edmund had been a faithful, loving husband. After Sarah’s death, Edmund focused his attention on Margaret. She was his only surviving child, his heir, and his greatest disappointment. Margaret had been a difficult child, according to Edmund. She asked too many questions. She read books that were not appropriate for young ladies. She expressed opinions when silence would have been more becoming. As she grew older, these tendencies worsened. By the time she was 20, Margaret was openly challenging Edmund’s authority, questioning his decisions, and behaving in ways that scandalized polite society. The weight was part of the problem. Margaret had always been a large girl, but after her mother’s death, she gained substantial weight. By 1845, she weighed well over 200 lb, making her grotesque by the standards of the time. Edmund was horrified and ashamed. How could he find a suitable husband for a daughter who looked like that? What kind of man would accept such a wife? But the weight was not the real issue. The real issue was that Margaret had a mind of her own and refused to pretend otherwise.

She had received an excellent education, better than most women of her era, because Edmund had initially wanted her to be accomplished and refined. He had hired tutors in literature, history, French, and music. He had allowed her access to his extensive library. He had encouraged intellectual development because he assumed it would make Margaret a more interesting wife for whatever wealthy man eventually married her. Instead, education had made Margaret dangerous. She had read Mary Wollstonecraft and other writers who argued for women’s rights and education. She had studied the abolitionist newspapers that somehow made their way to Mississippi despite being banned. She had formed her own opinions about slavery, about women’s roles, about society’s structure, and she was not good at hiding those opinions. The first serious incident occurred in 1843 when Margaret was 20.

Edmund was hosting a dinner party for several prominent planters and their wives. The conversation turned to the question of slavery’s expansion into new territories. One guest argued that slavery was a positive good, that enslaved people were better off than they would be in Africa, that the institution was sanctioned by scripture and natural law. Margaret, who had been expected to remain silent and decorative, spoke up. She said she found it difficult to believe that people torn from their families and forced to work without compensation were better off than free people in their homeland. She suggested that perhaps the real question was not whether slavery benefited enslaved people, but whether it corrupted the souls of those who practiced it. The silence that followed was absolute. No one contradicted Margaret directly. No one argued with her. They simply stared, shocked that a woman would express such views, especially in mixed company, especially in her father’s house. Edmund ended the dinner party shortly after, making excuses about Margaret’s health, suggesting she was overtired and not herself.

After the guests left, Edmund took Margaret to his study and explained that she had embarrassed him, had potentially damaged his standing in the community, and would never speak about such topics again in his house. Margaret apologized, but Edmund knew it was not sincere. She was sorry she had caused a scene, but she was not sorry for her opinions. Over the following months, there were other incidents. Margaret was overheard asking enslaved house servants about their families, where they had come from, whether they had children who had been sold away. She was seen giving food to children in the quarters. She was caught teaching a young enslaved girl basic letters, a clear violation of Mississippi law. Edmund tried various approaches. He restricted Margaret’s access to books, allowing her only approved religious texts. He forbade her from interacting with enslaved workers except to give direct orders. He arranged introductions to suitable men, hoping marriage would solve the problem by making Margaret someone else’s responsibility. Four men courted Margaret between 1843 and 1845. All four eventually proposed. Margaret refused every one of them. Her reasons varied. One man was boring. Another was cruel to his servants. A third had terrible table manners. But the real reason Edmund suspected was that Margaret did not want to marry at all. She wanted independence, wanted control of her own life, wanted things that women simply could not have. Edmund tried explaining this to her. He told her that unmarried women had no place in society, that she would become an object of pity and mockery if she remained single, that she needed a husband to provide for her and give her life meaning and purpose. Margaret listened to these lectures with barely concealed contempt. She told Edmund that she would rather be an old maid than marry a man she did not love or respect. She said she was perfectly capable of managing her own affairs and did not need a husband to provide meaning to her existence. She suggested that perhaps if society’s expectations were unreasonable, the problem was with society, not with her. By early 1846, Edmund was at his wit’s end.

Margaret was 23, unmarried, overweight, and increasingly defiant. She was becoming an embarrassment that threatened Edmund’s reputation. People were starting to talk. They wondered why Edmund could not control his own daughter. They questioned his authority and judgment. Some suggested that perhaps Margaret’s behavior reflected Edmund’s own failings as a father and as a Christian. Edmund could not tolerate that. His reputation was everything. He had spent decades building an image of himself as a moral authority, a pillar of the community, a man whose household reflected godly order and proper hierarchy. Margaret was destroying that image. She had to be fixed. She had to be brought under control. She had to be made into the kind of woman who would reflect well on her father rather than embarrassing him.

In May of 1846, Edmund traveled to New Orleans for two weeks. He told his household staff that he was conducting business, meeting with cotton factors and bankers. That was partially true. But Edmund also met with men who understood how to break difficult women, how to make them compliant, how to strip away willfulness and replace it with obedience. These were not physicians or psychiatrists. They were overseers and slave breakers, men who specialized in crushing the spirit of enslaved people who showed too much independence or resistance. Edmund explained his situation. He needed his daughter broken without visible marks, without public scandal, without anything that would raise questions or draw attention. The treatment needed to appear legitimate, needed to be something he could describe to neighbors as medical therapy recommended by experts. He needed Margaret transformed into an obedient, marriageable woman who would accept whatever husband Edmund eventually found for her.

The men Edmund consulted gave him detailed advice. Physical labor, they said, was effective for breaking both body and spirit. Exhaustion prevented clear thinking and resistance. Isolation cut people off from support and made them dependent on their captors. Unpredictable treatment, sometimes harsh and sometimes less so, kept people off balance and unable to develop effective coping strategies. Humiliation destroyed pride and sense of self. And most importantly, the breaking needed to be systematic, documented, and relentless. Every day had to chip away at the person’s resistance until nothing remained but compliance.

Edmund returned to Riverbend Plantation on May 26th with a plan. He spent the next two weeks preparing. He selected the large barn behind the main house, a structure used primarily for storing equipment and occasionally for processing crops. The barn was solid, 60 feet long and 40 feet wide, with thick walls and a loft for hay storage. Edmund had enslaved workers clear out most of the equipment, leaving only what would be needed for Margaret’s treatment. He installed heavy locks on all the doors. He had hooks embedded in the main support beams. He brought in a grain mill, the kind used to grind corn, requiring someone to push a heavy wooden arm in endless circles. He set up a sleeping area in one corner, nothing but a thin mattress on the floor. He brought in a desk and chair for himself along with the leatherbound ledger where he would document everything.

Edmund also selected the three enslaved men who would be responsible for implementing Margaret’s daily routine. His choice of men was calculated carefully. He needed people who would follow orders without question, who would not show Margaret sympathy or kindness that might undermine the treatment, but who also would not harm her in ways that would create visible evidence of abuse. He chose Benjamin, aged 38, a fieldhand who had been on the plantation for 15 years. Benjamin was steady, reliable, and had never given the overseers any trouble. He had a wife named Ruth and three children. Edmund knew that Benjamin would do whatever was necessary to protect his family, which meant he would follow orders no matter how distasteful. He chose Samuel, aged 27, who worked primarily in the stables. Samuel had been born on Riverbend Plantation and had never known any other life. He was quiet, kept to himself, and did his work without complaint. Edmund had no reason to expect any resistance from Samuel, and he chose Daniel, aged 33, a skilled carpenter who handled repairs around the plantation. Edmund knew that Daniel’s literacy made him potentially dangerous, but it also made him useful. Daniel could help maintain the treatment records if needed.

On June 13th, Edmund called the three men to his study. He explained what would happen starting the next day. His daughter required treatment for her condition. The treatment would involve rigorous physical labor and strict discipline. The three men would be responsible for supervising Margaret’s daily routine. They would ensure she completed all assigned tasks. They would record her behavior, her weight, her compliance, or resistance. They would show her no special consideration due to her status as the master’s daughter. In fact, they would treat her exactly as they would treat any new field worker, with the expectation of hard work and absolute obedience.

Benjamin asked what would happen if they refused. Edmund’s response was immediate and clear. Refusal would result in Benjamin’s family being sold separately to different plantations in the Deep South. Ruth would go to one plantation, the children to others. They would never see each other again. Did Benjamin understand? Benjamin understood. Samuel and Daniel received similar explanations about what would happen to people they cared about if they failed to follow Edmund’s instructions. The three men were trapped. They had no good options. They could refuse and watch their families destroyed, or they could comply and become complicit in whatever Edmund was planning to do to his daughter. It was not really a choice. It was just a different kind of torture, forcing them to inflict suffering on someone else to protect people they loved.

That night, Benjamin told his wife Ruth what was going to happen. Ruth was horrified. She begged Benjamin to refuse, to run, to do something other than participate in torturing Edmund’s daughter. Benjamin explained that running would accomplish nothing. They would be caught within days. Their children would be sold as punishment, and Margaret would still be subjected to whatever Edmund had planned, only with different men supervising her treatment. At least, if Benjamin was there, he could perhaps find small ways to make things less terrible, could ensure Margaret was not hurt worse than necessary. Ruth understood, but she hated it. She hated that this was the calculation enslaved people constantly had to make, participate in cruelty to protect family, enable evil to prevent worse evil. There were no good choices, only different types of terrible choices. Samuel and Daniel had similar conversations with people they cared about. None of them wanted to do this. All of them felt they had no alternative.

On the morning of June 14th, 1846, Edmund brought Margaret to the barn. He had not told her beforehand what was planned. He had simply instructed her to dress in her oldest, plainest clothing, and to come with him after breakfast. Margaret followed, confused, but not yet alarmed. When they reached the barn, and Edmund opened the door, Margaret saw Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel waiting inside. She saw the grain mill, the sparse sleeping area, the desk where Edmund would sit to document her treatment. Margaret turned to her father.

“What is this?”

“This is your treatment,” Edmund said calmly. “You have proven yourself incapable of governing your own behavior. You have embarrassed me and yourself repeatedly. You have refused every reasonable attempt to help you become the kind of woman you should be. So I am taking direct action for the next several months. You will live in this barn. You will work every day under the supervision of these three men. You will learn discipline, humility, and obedience. When you have demonstrated sufficient improvement, the treatment will end, and we will discuss your future.”

Margaret stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am entirely serious. You will do exactly as these men instruct. You will complete whatever tasks they assign. You will sleep here, eat here, and work here until I determine that you have changed.”

Margaret’s shock was giving way to anger. “This is insane. You cannot imprison your own daughter and force her to work like a slave.”

Edmund’s expression did not change. “I am your father. I have both the legal right and the moral obligation to correct your behavior by whatever means necessary. The law supports me completely. You are an unmarried woman living in my household dependent on my support. You will do as I say or you will suffer the consequences.” He gestured to Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel. “These men are now your supervisors. You will address them respectfully and follow their instructions. If you refuse, if you resist, if you attempt to leave this barn without my permission, I will make things considerably worse for you. Do you understand?”

Margaret looked at the three men. They would not meet her eyes. They stood there, silent and miserable, waiting to see what would happen next. Margaret looked back at her father. “I understand that you have gone mad.”

Edmund nodded as if she had said something reasonable. “You may believe that now. In time you will see that I am doing this for your own good.” He turned to Benjamin. “Begin the treatment.”

Then he left the barn, locking the door from the outside. For a long moment, no one moved. Margaret stood near the door, breathing hard, trying to process what had just happened. Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel remained where they were, none of them wanting to be the first to speak or act. Finally, Benjamin cleared his throat.

“Miss Margaret,” he said quietly, “your father has instructed us to put you to work. We do not want to do this. But if we do not follow his orders, bad things will happen to people we care about. I am asking you to please cooperate so this can be as easy as possible for everyone.”

Margaret turned to look at him. Her initial anger was fading, replaced by dawning horror as she realized this was actually happening, that her father genuinely intended to keep her locked in this barn and force her to work like an enslaved person. She felt dizzy. She felt like the world had tilted sideways and nothing made sense anymore.

“What am I supposed to do?” Margaret asked.

Daniel gestured to the grain mill. “We need to grind corn. You will work the mill for four hours. Then you will have a short rest period. Then you will help Samuel haul water from the well to fill the troughs in the stables. Then you will work the mill again for another four hours. Then you will be given food and allowed to sleep.”

Margaret stared at the grain mill. “Four hours? I have never worked a grain mill in my life.”

“You will learn,” Benjamin said. “It is not complicated. You just push the arm and keep pushing until the time is completed.”

Margaret wanted to refuse, wanted to scream and fight and demand to be released, but she was trapped. The door was locked. Her father had made it clear he would not relent. And these three men were following orders that threatened their families if they failed. There was no one to appeal to, no authority to call on, no escape. So Margaret walked to the grain mill and began to push. The wooden arm was heavier than she expected. It required real force to keep it moving in its circular path. Within minutes, Margaret’s arms were ached. Within half an hour, she was exhausted. But she kept pushing because stopping would mean confronting what was actually happening, and she was not ready to face that yet.

Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel watched in silence. They were supposed to supervise, to make sure she kept working, to document her behavior in the ledger Edmund had provided. But none of them felt good about any of this. They were watching a white woman, the daughter of their owner, being subjected to treatment that mimicked their own daily experience of forced labor and powerlessness. It was disturbing in ways they struggled to articulate.

Edmund returned at noon. He brought food for Margaret, a simple meal of cornbread and beans, the same rations enslaved workers received. He watched Margaret for several minutes, noting her exhaustion, her red face, her trembling arms. He opened the ledger and wrote his first entry: “June 14th, noon. Subject shows initial resistance and shock. Physical exhaustion evident after four hours labor. Compliance achieved through lack of alternatives. Continue current routine.” He left the food and departed without speaking to Margaret directly.

That first day set the pattern for what would follow. Margaret worked the grain mill, hauled water, completed whatever tasks Benjamin assigned. She was given simple food twice per day. She slept on the thin mattress in the corner. Edmund visited regularly to document her progress, weighing her weekly, recording behavioral observations, adjusting the treatment routine based on what he saw. The days blurred together: wake before dawn, work until exhaustion, eat minimal food, work more, sleep, repeat.

Margaret’s body began changing quickly. The constant labor and reduced food intake caused rapid weight loss. Within three weeks, she had lost over 20 lb. Her hands developed calluses. Her muscles ached constantly. She was too exhausted to think clearly, too focused on surviving each day to plan any kind of resistance or escape.

Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel struggled with their role in this nightmare. They had been forced into positions where they had to actively participate in breaking someone, in destroying a woman’s spirit through systematic cruelty. They tried to find small ways to make things easier for Margaret. Benjamin sometimes allowed her longer rest breaks when Edmund was not present. Samuel brought her extra water on particularly hot days. Daniel occasionally spoke to her gently, offering small encouragements that she was doing well, that she was stronger than she thought. But these small kindnesses could not change the fundamental reality. Margaret was being broken day by day, hour by hour. The treatment was working exactly as Edmund intended.

By late July, Margaret had stopped expressing anger or defiance. She simply worked when told to work, ate when given food, slept when allowed. She spoke rarely. She cried sometimes at night when she thought no one could hear her. But during the day, she was becoming the obedient, broken thing Edmund wanted her to be. Edmund was pleased with the progress. His ledger entries documented Margaret’s transformation: “July 28th. Subject weight down to 202 lb. Compliance now automatic. No verbal resistance in past week. Physical condition improved despite weight loss. Subject appears stronger, more capable of sustained labor. Emotional affect flattened. Continue current routine with slight increase in work requirements to maintain progress.”

By August of 1846, Margaret had been in the barn for seven weeks. She had lost 43 lb, according to Edmund’s meticulous records. Her body had changed dramatically, becoming leaner and harder from constant physical labor. But the more significant changes were psychological. The Margaret who had entered the barn in June, defiant and opinionated, was disappearing. In her place was someone quieter, more withdrawn, someone who had learned that resistance accomplished nothing, and that survival required absolute compliance. Edmund was satisfied with these changes, but he wanted more. He wanted Margaret completely broken, wanted every trace of her former self erased.

So he began introducing new elements to the treatment. Unpredictability was key. Some days Margaret would be worked to exhaustion. Other days she would be given less work but no explanation for why. Some meals would be adequate. Others would be half portions. Edmund wanted Margaret to never know what to expect. Wanted her constantly off balance and unable to develop any sense of control. He also introduced punishments for invented infractions. Margaret would be accused of working too slowly, even when she was not. She would be told she had shown disrespect when she had said nothing at all. These accusations would result in additional work hours, reduced food, or other penalties. The goal was to make Margaret understand that her actions did not matter, that punishment or reward came at Edmund’s whim, that she had no agency whatsoever.

Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel were forced to implement these changes. They hated it. The work had been terrible enough when it at least made some kind of sense. When Margaret could understand that completing tasks well would result in rest, that cooperation would lead to better treatment. But this new phase was pure psychological torture. They were required to gaslight Margaret, to accuse her of things she had not done, to punish her for imaginary failures.

It was during this phase that something shifted between Margaret and her three supervisors. They began to see each other differently. Margaret had initially viewed Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel as extensions of her father’s will, as enforcers of the torture she was experiencing. But as she watched them implement Edmund’s increasingly cruel instructions, as she saw the discomfort and shame in their faces when they had to invent reasons to punish her, she began to understand that they were trapped, too. They were forced to hurt her, to protect people they loved. They were victims of the same system that was destroying her, just in different ways. And Benjamin, Samuel, and Daniel began seeing Margaret not as the master’s daughter who existed in a completely separate world, but as a fellow human being suffering under cruelty that none of them deserved. Her pain was different from theirs in some ways. She was experiencing temporary imprisonment while they lived in permanent bondage, but pain was still pain. Suffering was still suffering. And watching someone be systematically broken, regardless of who that person was, created a kind of shared experience that crossed the lines society had drawn.

The first real conversation happened in mid-August. Edmund had left for the day after weighing Margaret and recording her progress. Margaret was sitting on the floor in the corner where she slept, exhausted after eight hours at the grain mill. Benjamin was supposed to be watching her, making sure she did not try to escape or do anything Edmund would consider inappropriate. Samuel and Daniel had been sent to complete other tasks. Benjamin sat down on a stool about 10 feet from Margaret. For several minutes, neither spoke. Then Benjamin said quietly, “I am sorry.”

Margaret looked up at him, surprised. He had never apologized before. None of them had. “Sorry for what? For all of this, for what we have to do to you every day, for not finding a way to stop it.”

Margaret studied his face. “Why are you doing it then? Why are you helping him?”

Benjamin explained about his family, about Edmund’s threats, about the impossible choice he had been given. Margaret listened. When he finished, she said, “I understand. I am not angry at you. You are as trapped as