In 1857, a country gentleman named George Deans was wandering home from a Christmas party, tipsy with drink, when a foggy shape rose out the graveyard wearing the face of his spurned lover.

For months, the Mummy Murderer had been sending mysterious letters, promising fresh documents and new details on the 40-year-old crime thought to be Raleigh’s first triple murder.

Mount Gilead Mayor Earl Poplin craves retirement but cannot go until a disputed election is settled.

Some of the nation’s worst atrocities rank among those flag-lowering events: the mass shootings in Wisconsin, the movie-theater massacre in Colorado, a madman’s gunfire in Tucson. But I’m going to go out on a very shaky limb here and say that the up-down flag ceremony is getting too frequent, or at least too confusing.

Rocky Mount’s Streets of Gold Hearse Co. offers rides to the grave in a motorcycle-drawn hearse.

In 1962, a high-school beauty queen with a towering beehive hairdo named Carolyn Byrd won the celebrated Miss Raleigh pageant, thrilling judges with her figure, her poise and her rabbit-conjuring magic tricks.