Lingering Mystery
A Year After Unsolved Church Arsenic Poisonings, Tiny Town Tries to Move On
By Bryan Robinson
April 27 — No matter how hard they try, residents of New Sweden, Maine, cannot escape the cloud left by the church arsenic poisonings one year ago.
Last April 27, New Sweden was robbed of its small-town innocence when 16 congregation members of the Gustaf Adolph Lutheran Church were poisoned — one fatally — by arsenic-laced coffee they had consumed following Sunday service. Less than a week later, police announced they suspected a longtime churchgoer, Daniel Bondeson, was behind the poisoning. But before they could arrest Bondeson, he shot himself and later died at the hospital.
Bondeson's death prevented investigators from finding a decisive motive in the case. Investigators believed Bondeson, 53, did not act alone. They have said a note he left behind and interviews with church members suggest "church politics" may have motivated the poisonings.
Still, one year later, answers continue to elude Maine police and the New Sweden community. Bondeson's lawyer, Peter Kelley, said recently that his client visited him the day before he shot himself and revealed information that may clear up the intrigue surrounding the poisonings. However, Kelley said he is bound to silence by attorney-client privilege. He could disclose information to authorities if he gets a waiver from the Bondeson estate, but that waiver has yet to come.
Nonetheless, residents are not eager to voice their outrage or talk about the case. They see that some survivors are still not fully recovered from the poisonings — one must now use a cane to walk around, while others have lingering health problems — and they do not want to reopen an old wound that has never really healed.
"They don't want to talk about it anymore. They're done talking about it and want to move on," said the Rev. Shelly Timber, who acted as a spokeswoman for the church and the New Sweden community at the time of the poisonings. "I wouldn't encourage anyone to talk about it [to the media] and wouldn't send anyone their way."
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Unwelcome Spotlight
The church poisoning thrust New Sweden, an obscure town in far northern Maine, into national headlines. The intimate church community – which was settled by Swedish immigrants in the 1870s – was deluged by satellite trucks and reporters from major news organizations.
At the time, residents shaken by the poisonings and Bondeson's suicide felt their privacy was violated. Some changed their phone numbers to avoid phone calls from reporters; others put on their answering machines and refused to return calls. A few residents politely said, "We've had enough of you. We don't want to talk about it anymore," before hanging up.
Reaction in New Sweden is the same one year later. In the past few months, some residents and poisoning survivors have shared their feelings with local reporters and newspapers. But they are not interested in seeing their names or community in the national spotlight again.
"Those who were directly affected have been healing and are just interested in moving on," Timber said. "And the only way they can move on is by not exposing it again. … When it first happened, it was reported to death, and then a few months later there were several follow-ups, and people are just tired of talking about it and want to move on."
Specific Motive May Never Be Known
Maine State Police have not been able to move on because their investigation is ongoing.
At one time, several state and federal investigators were helping local police. But now just one detective works full time on the case, looking for new leads and conducting follow-up interviews with New Sweden residents and congregation members. Investigators still believe one or more people besides Bondeson were involved, but they admit they may never uncover the truth.
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"I don't know if we'll ever have the particular motive," said Maine State Police Lt. Dennis Appleton. "I guess that depends upon if that second, third or fourth person [comes forward]. … Daniel can't tell us specifically since he's deceased. A lot of it will depend on whether someone decides to — or if ever — come forward and share."
According to Appleton, the idea that someone from the New Sweden community may have helped Bondeson — and is still walking free — has some residents living in fear.
"There's a part of the community — the direct victims and members of their family — that still live with that dark cloud, that apprehensive environment, and wonder if something's going to happen again," Appleton said. "There are some within the community of victims who are trying very hard to put things behind them and move on so they don't have to live in fear. In the general community, there is a little bit of both. But people have moved forward, for the most part."
A Loud, Telling Silence
In a town of less than 700 where almost everyone knows each other, they almost had to persevere and put any suspicions aside — even if police were not able to find a break in the case. They could not allow themselves to be consumed by tragedy.
"Those who are in the church community have to live together and worship together," Timber said. "The police have always said that they believed there were other people involved who may have put Danny up to it. But what do you do with something like that? … The police would say week after week, 'Oh, we'll have something new next week.' After a while, people would say, 'Well, whatever … let's move on.' "
And members of the Gustaf Adolph Lutheran Church appear to be moving on. The church did not expect to have any memorial services, Timber said.
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Its online event schedule does not mention any events that recognize the church poisonings or its victims. It lists birthday and anniversary reminders, scheduled services, and an annual Mother's Day breakfast. Life is trying to go on as usual.
Still, the silence about last year's tragic events speaks volumes.
