DOWNIEVILLE, Calif. _ The young Mexican woman walked to her death with a firm step.
Her face betrayed no fear as she climbed the ladder to a scaffold on a bridge overlooking the Yuba River. The afternoon sun sparkled on the waterway as it wound through pine-shrouded mountains.
The night before, hundreds had celebrated the Fourth of July. Now, they watched, silent, as the woman pushed back two plaits of black hair from her shoulders. She placed the noose around her neck.
When they called for her last words, she declared, fearless, "I would do the same again if I was so provoked."
Here in this small town in the northern reaches of the Sierra Nevada, the legend of Josefa lives on more than 160 years after her death. Her saga, cobbled together through historical news articles, books and history buffs, is largely unknown even among California's Mexican American population but has riveted young and old here in the middle of Trump country.
A neighboring town staged a play about Josefa's trial; an opera in San Francisco gave her a spotlight. A psychic claims to converse with her. But much about her is unknown, including her last name. A plaque commemorating her death refers to her as "Juanita" _ a slur people in this gold-mining community once used for any Mexican woman.
Downieville and the surrounding area's fascination with the story of Josefa predates the era of #MeToo and modern-day hostility toward anyone and anything Mexican, before the El Paso mass shooting and a president conjuring up Mexican "rapists" and drug dealers to get elected. But in their own way, the town's 200 residents have long debated the role Josefa's gender and ethnicity played in her fate.
Only a couple of years had passed since the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which brought an end to the Mexican-American War and gave the modern-day American Southwest to the conquering Yanquis.
Downieville became a bustling Gold Rush town of thousands, most of them men _ Mexicans, Chileans, English, French and Chinese. The town had two saw mills and a theater. In letters to his sister, one miner described it as "one of the richest mining towns in the state."
Josefa was one of the few women living among the miners. The town's founder, William Downie, said she was known throughout the settlement.
"The lustre in her eyes shone in various degrees, from the soft dove-like expression of a love-sick maiden, to the fierce scowl of an infuriated lioness, according to her temper, which was the only thing not well balanced about her," Downie wrote after her death.
In the summer of 1851, California celebrated the Fourth of July _ the first since becoming a state. The streets of Downieville were filled with parades, bands and heavy drinking.
One of those celebrating was an Australian miner known in news articles and Downie's book, "Hunting for Gold," as Cannon. After the festivities, he stumbled down the street before reaching the home Josefa shared with a man named Jose, believed by some to be her husband.
Cannon crashed through the couple's door. But no one agrees on what happened next.
As an 1851 Marysville Daily Herald newspaper article recounts it, Cannon entered the house and "created a riot and disturbance." She was so outraged, the article said, that when he arrived the next morning to apologize, she stabbed him in the heart.
But the Steamer Pacific Star, a San Francisco newspaper, had a different version of the story. A doctor said Cannon came to his office about 7 a.m. the day of his death to ask for medicine. While in the doctor's office, Jose, who lived next door, confronted Cannon about the door.
The two exited the house together, where they were met by Josefa. Soon after, Cannon and Josefa exchanged words in Spanish. The doctor said Cannon offered "pleasant" replies.
Jose later testified that Cannon called him and Josefa names, according to the Steamer Pacific Star account; when Cannon went to enter the house, Josefa stabbed him.
Both Josefa and Jose were taken into custody. Their trial took place the same day.
The Steamer Pacific Star reporter, who described Josefa as pretty, "so far as the style of swarthy Mexican beauty is so considered," said she "presented more the appearance of one who would confer kindness than one who thirsted for blood."
The jury found her guilty of murder, and she was ordered to die by hanging _ two hours later. Jose was found not guilty but was warned to leave town within 24 hours. As Josefa prepared for her hanging, the Steamer Pacific Star reporter wrote, she extended her hand to those around her and to each said, "Adios, senor."
