“Branded, Not Hanged”: The Boston Massacre Trial and John Adams’s Idea of Justice

When the verdict in the Boston Massacre trial was read, many in Boston were stunned: “On the indictment for murder, all soldiers this day tried are found not guilty, save Hugh Montgomery and Matthew Kilroy, who are found guilty of manslaughter; and it is ordered that they be branded on the thumb.” Five colonists were dead, including Crispus Attucks, a Black man of African and Native descent, the first to fall that night, a reminder that the struggle over “liberty” in America was tangled with race from the very beginning. To grieving families and angry patriots, a burned letter on a thumb felt like an insult. No gallows, no long imprisonment, just a mark.

John Adams addressing the jurors in Boston Massacre trial

Yet in that same courtroom, another story of justice was unfolding. Eight British soldiers and their captain, Thomas Preston, had been charged with murder after the chaotic shooting on March 5, 1770. The town was furious. These men were the face of imperial power. The easy path would have been vengeance. Instead, Boston held a trial. John Adams, already a vocal critic of British policies, agreed to defend the soldiers. He did it not because he loved red coats, but because he believed that in a free society even our enemies are entitled to counsel, a fair hearing, and a verdict based on evidence, not rage.

Hugh Montgomery and Matthew Kilroy branded on the thumb in open court.

In his closing, Adams gave the line that still echoes: “Facts are stubborn things…” He walked the jury through conflicting testimony: snowballs and clubs thrown at soldiers, shouts in the dark, fear on both sides. He argued that the law must recognize self-defense and human panic. If no murderous intent could be proved beyond doubt, the charge had to be reduced. The jury followed that logic. Six soldiers were acquitted. Two, Hugh Montgomery and Matthew Kilroy, for whom the evidence was strongest were convicted of manslaughter, then spared hanging by “benefit of clergy” and branded on the thumb in open court.

Broadside posted in the streets of thew verdict

Was that sentence too lenient? Many Bostonians thought so. The word “massacre” stuck precisely because so many felt justice had fallen short. But Adams later called his defense of the soldiers one of the best services he ever rendered his country. Why? Because it proved something radical: that even in a moment of fury, the law could be stronger than the mob. The Boston Massacre trial leaves us with an uneasy truth: real justice doesn’t always feel satisfying. It can disappoint our thirst for payback. Yet the same mercy that spared two British soldiers also helped shape a legal tradition where facts matter, doubt has weight, and rights apply to everyone, even those wearing the wrong coat.