The means by which the following account was obtained I am compelled in honour to keep secret, but I place every reliance upon the source from whence it came. One portion of the sad narrative is confirmed from the fact that when the remains of Sergeant Kennedy were discovered there were found near him some sheets of writing paper, fastened together with a small paper binder, with three leaves torn from it, and upon the missing leaves it is supposed the letter was written to his wife. It has since been proved that this paper was bought in Mansfield by the late Sergeant Kennedy previous to starting on the fatal expedition. The particulars given below were related by Kelly himself personally to a confederate some time after the murders were committed, whose name I cannot reveal. The following is the account referred to: —
McIntye's evidence as given in the Mansfield Guardian is, in the main, pretty correct. Upon seeing McIntyre gallop away, Kennedy continued to fire at us without effect as we sheltered ourselves. We let him fire about five shots from his revolver, he remaining nearly in the one position, and standing. A shot was fired by one of my mates, after which he started to run, followed by my brother and myself. After running about a quarter of a mile, and apparently seeing no chance of escape, as we were making upon him with our weapons, Kennedy got behind a tree, and as I came within pistol shot he fired his last remaining charge. As I saw him levelling fair at my head, I suddenly fell on my knees, and as I did so I heard the bullet whiz past over my head. I then fired at Kennedy, who fell wounded at the foot of the tree where his body was afterwards found. The other two men, Hart and Byrne, who were coming up to us, seeing that the sergeant was secured, turned and went in pursuit of McIntyre, who had escaped on Kennedy's horse. The sergeant never moved from the spot where he fell, but complained of the pain he felt from the bullet wound. I should say we were with him nearly two hours trying to get what information we could out of him. He always endeavoured to turn the conversation in the direction of his domestic affairs, his home, his wife and family, and very frequently of the little one he had recently buried in the Mansfield Cemetery, to whom he seemed very much attached, evidently knowing he would soon be by its side. I could not help feeling very much touched at his pitiable condition, and after a little I said, "Well, Kennedy, I am sorry that I shot you. Here take my gun and shoot me." Kennedy replied, "No, I forgive you, and may God forgive you too." He then wrote as much on some slips in his note book as his fast failing strength would allow him. After he had written what he could with his pencil he handed the paper to me, and asked if I would give it to his wife. I took the paper, and promised that when I had a safe opportunity I would do so. The sergeant then appeared to be suffering very much and in great agony. I could not look upon him so, and did not wish to leave him alone to linger out in such pain, so I suddenly, without letting him see what I intended, put the muzzle of my gun to within a few inches of Kennedy's breast. When he saw that I was going to shoot him he begged of me to leave him alive saying, "Let me alone to live, if I can, for the sake of my poor wife and family. You surely have shed blood enough." I fired, and he died instantly, without another groan. We then took his cloak and covered it over his body, and left him to be buried by those who might find him. I did not cut off his ear as reported, it must have been eaten away.
'Kennedy, Michael (1842–1878)', Obituaries Australia, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, http://oa.anu.edu.au/obituary/kennedy-michael-13572/text24296, accessed 25 May 2013.