Today in Salem: Thou shalt not kill. The sixth commandment isn’t hard to understand. Except that it is. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

The stubborn Giles Corey is making it even more complicated. The Sheriff is about to put him to death by pressing. And Giles is allowing it. Is he indirectly dying by his own hands? If so, is he breaking the sixth commandment by killing someone — himself? Will God punish him, since the church cannot?

A small crowd of onlookers is standing in the grassy field across from the jail. Most of them were at the meeting house yesterday when Giles was excommunicated, and most of them have the same questions. There won’t be any answers today, though.

At the edge of the crowd, a man is standing with one foot on the ground and one foot on top of a stack of flat stones, each one as large as a man’s torso. He’s holding a large board that seems to swivel as Giles emerges from the jail, shuffling toward the field and shaking off the Sheriff’s hand. Giles is 81. He doesn’t need to be restrained.

The crowd murmurs when Giles once again holds his hand up to the Sheriff and, with the stiff bones of an old man, lays himself down. The man by the stones steps forward and places the board over Giles’ torso, then turns toward the stones. He and the Sheriff grunt as they pick up the top stone together and lay it on the board over Giles’ heart.

“How do you plead?” the Sheriff asks, but Giles remains silent, still refusing to speak. The Sheriff lets a few seconds go by, then gives the smallest of nods toward the officer. They lay a second stone on top of the first. “How do you plead?” the Sheriff says again. “What saith ye?”

“More weight,” Giles wheezes.

Three, four stones. With his dying breaths Giles’ tongue lolls out, and the Sheriff, perhaps to hasten the inevitable, uses the tip of his walking stick to push it back in. Five stones and several minutes later Giles is still, his breath pressed out of him at last.

Tomorrow in Salem: the Sheriff raids the Corey home

Today in Salem: Water puddles on the floor and flies circle a piece of stale bread, as a gregarious man enters the prison cell to talk with Giles Corey. The two men have been friends for years, and the judges have asked the man to persuade Giles to enter a plea before it’s too late.

The judges themselves have been in and out of the prison most of yesterday and last night to talk with Giles. His refusal to plead to the charge of witchcraft has stopped his trial, and he’s been sentenced to pressing with heavy stones until he pleads or dies. He can avoid it with just three words: “I plead innocent (or guilty).”

Even now, in private, Giles’ friend agrees. “Don’t be a fool,” he says. “Why are you doing this? Even if you hang, it’s an easier death.” But Giles just grunts and looks away.

“You gain nothing by dying under a heavy stone,” the friend says. “You will lose your life for nothing.”

“Not so,” Giles says. “It will protect my family.” He goes on to explain what he would never tell anyone but a good friend: that he’s written a new will and deeded his property to his sons-in-law. “If I’m convicted, then the Sheriff can take everything away from them. But I cannot be convicted if I don’t enter a plea to begin with.”

“Yes, but you’ve deeded the property to them,” his friend says. “They already own it. The Sheriff can’t take it away, regardless of what happens to you.”

Giles rears up and laughs until he chokes. “Have you met our Sheriff? That is a small distinction for a man like him. Do you truly believe he will abide by it?”

“Yes, but – ” Giles cuts him off. “I am 81 years old. Death will visit me soon enough. I have decided.”

Nine guilty, nine sentenced

By tonight the court has finished the week’s trials. Nine people tried, nine guilty verdicts, and nine sentenced to hang. The judges do, however, delay one execution: the minister’s daughter Ann Faulkner, who, like Elizabeth Proctor, is pregnant.

There are more prisoners behind them who are undoubtedly guilty, but only so many people can be tried and hanged at once. Court won’t be in session again until November 1, so the other trials will have to wait. In the meantime there are eight hangings and the stubborn Giles Corey’s pressing to deal with.

Tomorrow in Salem: ***Sensitive content: mentions death by suicide*** EXECUTED: Giles Corey

Today in Salem: The stubborn Giles Corey is standing stone-cold mute in front of the judges, clenching his jaw and refusing to speak. He is 81 years old and still strong enough to work his farm, a commanding presence even though he is looking up at the judges.

“How do you plead?” the judges ask. But Giles is defiantly quiet.

It’s a dire choice. The trial cannot begin unless he enters a plea. If he continues to stand mute, the court can use “peine forte et dure” (strong and harsh punishment) until he pleads or dies a painful death.

Today is Giles’ third chance. He’s been in court twice, and both times stood mute. Even after the judges had reminded him of the consequences, even after his good friend has spent two days trying to persuade him, he will not speak.

The judges have already given him more than he deserves, and now they sentence him to pressing. In two days the sheriff will lay heavy stones on him, adding more and more, until he chooses to speak or dies.

Learn More: Why were prisoners punished — even tortured — for not entering a plea? Why couldn’t a trial start without one?

English law said that a court couldn’t hear a case until the accused person voluntarily asked for its jurisdiction. That request was made by entering a plea.

If an accused person refused to plead, they were refusing to ask for the court’s jurisdiction. The trial couldn’t begin because the court hadn’t been invited to judge it.

If that happened, the court could use a form of torture called “peine forte et dure” (French for “punishment strong and hard”) to force the accused person to enter a plea, and thereby ask for and accept the court’s jurisdiction. In England (and therefore British America), that torture usually consisted of extreme imprisonment (often with starvation), or being pressed with heavy weights.

“Peine forte et dure” was abolished in England 80 years after the Salem Witchcraft Trials. It was replaced by the mandate that “standing mute” was the same as saying “not guilty,” which was voluntarily asking the court to hear the case.

Less than 20 years later, the American Bill of Rights was created and added to the Constitution. Giles Corey’s death was foundational to its prohibition against “cruel and unusual punishment.”

Tomorrow in Salem: A stubborn old man chooses his death