The Hiller Hammer
November 3, 2021
“The Dun Maylock Debate: A Legacy of Fear or Misunderstanding?”

By Jamie Thorn, Retired Journalist

When I penned my article in 1975 about the Dun Maylock, I did so with the belief that history deserves a critical lens—not just the chilling tales passed down through generations. But here we are, nearly fifty years later, with an internet-age conspiracy theorist, C.W.H., dredging up my words to fit his own narrative of terror and control. Well, let me set the record straight: my perspective hasn’t changed.

The Dun Maylock, as I argued decades ago, were never the shadowy masterminds of terror that people like C.W.H. want them to be. They were pranksters, yes, but also symbols of rebellion in a time of rigid societal order. Let me tell you why I still believe that.

Pranks, Not Perpetrators

C.W.H. mocks the idea that the Dun Maylock’s early actions were harmless, but let’s examine the evidence.

• The Library Book Swap: This was not followed by the gruesome deaths he claims. No credible records link the rearranged books to any murders. Instead, they sparked public debate about censorship and power—exactly what the Dun Maylock seemed to aim for.
• The Kerdiffe Fire: The Dun Maylock’s supposed involvement in this tragedy remains pure speculation, bolstered by a lack of evidence and an abundance of fearmongering.

C.W.H. leans heavily on correlation, ignoring the context of the era. The late 1800s were rife with violence, much of it unrelated to the Dun Maylock. To blame them for every crime, every death, is not just lazy—it’s irresponsible.

Symbols Twisted Over Time

The bloody handprint, C.W.H.’s cornerstone of terror, didn’t begin as a mark of fear. It was a protest, a way to say, “We see you. We reject you.” But as time passed, the symbol became synonymous with violence—not because of the Dun Maylock, but because it was co-opted by real criminals who knew the public would eagerly jump to conclusions.

And who benefits from keeping this fear alive? Corrupt leaders, for one. When the Dun Maylock were blamed for crimes, it conveniently distracted from the very real injustices of those in power.

Control? Or Convenient Scapegoats?

C.W.H. insists the Dun Maylock sought control, but their history tells a different story. They didn’t kill to dominate—they acted to disrupt. They weren’t anarchists without purpose; they were critics of a system that often deserved criticism.

Their actions had a pattern if you cared to look for it: targeting hypocrisy, exposing corruption, and challenging authority. That’s not control—that’s rebellion.

Modern Paranoia

C.W.H.’s claims about a digital-age Dun Maylock stretch the bounds of credibility. If they exist in any form today, it’s as a story—a ghost of the past, told and retold until it becomes something unrecognizable. The notion that they’ve adapted into hackers or shadowy manipulators in cyberspace is nothing more than paranoia dressed as prophecy.

But here’s the real danger: people like C.W.H., who peddle fear without evidence, keep us looking over our shoulders instead of looking at the systems that still fail us today.

The Real Legacy

The Dun Maylock weren’t saints, but they weren’t the monsters some would have us believe. They were a product of their time, a symbol of defiance that has been twisted into a tale of terror.

I came out of retirement to write this because history deserves more than conspiracy theories and fearmongering. It deserves truth, even if it’s messy, complicated, and not nearly as thrilling as a bloody handprint on a door.

So, to those still searching for the Dun Maylock’s shadow, I say this: perhaps it’s time to let the past rest and focus on the real challenges we face today.

• Jamie Thorn
  Retired Journalist, Fulton Hammer Contributor (1971–2011)