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The Seaforth News, 1959-05-28, Page 6Mot A11164110 Murder Triad The elderly foreman of the jury rose ie the cramped living- boom of an apattmeet in New ti Terk's Bast Side and cleated his throat. "What is your verdict?" the prosecutor asked. "We don't know who murder- ed MacPherson's wife," the fermate of the jury said. "We th nk that MacPherson is guil- ty. but there is no direct proof, There. Is a lot of suspicion, t1 r _zgh." The prosecutor turned to the pssmaturely grey-haired fifty- ysar-old James M. MacPherscu era made, a hopeless gesture with his hands. "There is noth- ing more we can do, Jim," he sa'd. "We have carried out your request — unusual as it was and against our better judgment —but your own chosen jury cannot decide if you are guilty or innocent." The oddest murder trial in .America's criminal annals was over. But James MacPherson— the plan on trial — was dissa- tisfied with the "not proven" verdict, It took James MacPherson a motor mechanic, two years to talk his neighbours into giving him a "murder trial" and an- other year to bring It about. it was not, in fact, until three years after his wife, Violet, forty-seven, was found murder- ed that he f aced his twelve neighbours who formed his jury. The judge who presided over the trial was a milkman in Brooklyn, New York, and the prosecutor was a young, clerk. The defending attorney was a bread delivery man, but to all Intents and purposes it was a properly constructed trial held to find out whether MacPher- son had murdered his wife. His neighbours had agreed before- hand that if the verdict was ta- vourable to MacPherson they would forget about the whole thing; if the verdict went against him he would go to dis- trict attorney and demand a public trial. It all started in January, 1955, when MacPherson arrived at his home in Springfield Gar- dens, New York, from a day's work. His cheery greeting fail- ed to bring the usual response from his wife, to whom he had been married for just over twenty years. The front door was unlocked when MacPherson arrived bee te. C ';ling his wife's name, Mac - P. :son went to their bedroom et I stopped, horrified, in the do::way. His wife's body lay sp. awl:d across the bed. dress- ed in a negligee. There was blood on the pillow and three bullet holes in her head. MacPherson ran from • the house calling for help. When the police arrived he was the obvi- Ous SU,peCt. He was questioned daily for over a month and finally de- tained ten days during which time, C a claimed, he was sub- jected 'c third-degree question- ing, sl -i pings and'kickings, de- prived of food, water and sleep for eir'-:een hours at a stretch in ord.i to force a confession from h' n. The police backtracked on MacPherson's private life, but Gould fend no other woman wno might have given him the mo- tive fir murder. Nor could they Bed say illicit romance in the rathes drab, uninteresting life of Vi 'et MacPherson. It seem- ed, in .iact, a completely motive- less murder. M .. ?person stayed with his alib 'eat he had been at work all tI "v except for a lunch-hour br.sst:. when he had eaten a meal it a cafeteria.'No one re - mem "ed seeing him at the cafe' .•i•", and only two people saw pint in the section of the ,gar•e•:: where he worked during the: weole day. The district at- tars y said he could have slip- IPRINC1S5 CHARMING—Britain's Princess Margaret turns on her all-out ehorm at a meeting of the Women's Voluntary Service In Lor.don, ped away at any time unseen With his home only about twenty minutes' fest walking time, from' the garage MeePher- sou could, the district attorney. Bald, have rushed IMMO, shot his wife and been back at work without_ being missed. Rosenberg, MaePherson's at- torney, obtained a habeas corpus and had MacPherson released Pram custody. But this slid not slap his neighbours from shun- ning him nor did it stop the talk in the suburb that he had murdered his wife. Children booed him on the street and called him "Killer MacPherson": tvomen were rude to him: and his friends dropped 'him. He knew also that he was being watched. The detectives were applying the "trial by nerves" test, with relays of de- tectives watching MacPherson slight and day round the clock. Wherever he went there was a detective on his trail. MacPherson found that he -could not sleep or eat. The de- tectives on his trail and the fin- ger of suspicion pointing at him were wearing his nerves down. He wanted himself cleared,.and went to the district attorney and demanded that he be charged with the murder of his wife The district attorney was out- spoken. "We believe you mur- dered your wife; there is cir- oumstential evidence, but we cannot prove your guilt. Will you agree to taking a lie -detec- tor test?" MacPherson's attorney object- ed that a lie -detector test was valueless if it proved negative. The only thing which MacPher- son wanted was a public trial and this the .district attorney denied him pending further evi- dence. Between January 13th; 1955, when Violet MacPherson was .murdered, and Jaeeery, 1953, MacPherson fought for a public trial without success. • Violet MacPherson, the dis- trict -attorney stated, was shot with a .25 calibre pistol. Mac- Pherson denied ever owning such a pistol; but two of his fellow -workers stated that they had seen him in possession of such a pistol shortly before the murder. Six unused cartridges for a .25 calibre automatic were found in MacPherson's own garage, hut .he declared that someone must have planted them there. A robbery had been simulated at the time of the murder but nothing of any value was stolen although Violet MacPherson had had over 100 dollars in cash in her purse. The strangest thing, however, was the - MacPherson's' mongrel terrier, Butch, The dog, neigh- bours said, always barked when a stranger knocked at the Mac- Phersons' door or arrived there, even for the baker and -butcher and postman; but on the day when Violet MacPherson was murdered the dog did not bark. The implication was that the dog was so well acquainted wrth whoel ej it was who murdered Violet MacPherson that he. did not bark. By January, 1958, MacPher- son had talked his neighbours into giving him a murder trial, "If you find me guilty," he said, "I will go back to the police with your verdict and again demand a public trial." His neighbours promised that if, after hearing all the evidence, - they found him not guilty they would accept pin: as a friend as in the past. But the verdict was a stalemate. Netiher guilty nor innocent. Tired of being suspected and followed around, MacPherson went to the district attorney and confessed that he had kill- ed his wife. "I shot her because she made me sick," he declared. Then the strangest thing of all happened. Certain aspects of the killing were known only to the police and the man who killed Violet MacPherson and when the dis- trict attorney questioned Mac- Pherson_ about these Elie suspect gave the wrong answers. Alter several hours of ques- tioning, the district attorney carne to the conclusion that MacPherson was innocent and released him. Today James MacPherson. is back where he started: strongly suspected of the murder of Vin- let MacPherson, shunned by friends and neighbqurs, a bro- I ken man whose only ambition in life is to come to public trial ' to be either acquitted or con victed. "Why is your car painted red on one side and bine on the other?" .asked Smithers of a motorist acquaintance. "Oh, it's a fine idea," said the motorist, "You should hear the v.itnesses contradicting one an- other." Overnight accomodation Par wives and relatives of hospital. lied patients at DVA hospitals is provided at the eight Bed Cross Lodges. THEY'LL TUMBLE NO -MORE — Seventy-five m,p.h winds tangled tumbleweeds in telephone wires in Liberal, Kan. Saying It With Flowers A Complete Story by Dudley Hoys Erica didn't hear the warning siren from Greymoor. Ifshe had, she would have dashed in- to the cottage and bolted the door, But the summer breerse was In the wrong direction, A basket on her slim arm, she dawdled about the garden, picking flowers. From the hedg= ed enclosure to the west drifted, a spice -sweet tang, the blended scents of the herbs she grew tor •a living — mint and parsley, sage and borage, marjoram and the rest. Beyond the enclosure the empty fields stretched el- ver -gilt under the early evening sunlight. There was a thoughtfulness about her, a hint of the wistful, as she gathered the blooms. Most -people hankered to be somebody else. That wish had passed her by until she had met John, Per- haps their dissimilarity had 'brought them together. She was small, -boned, shy, imaginative. He was large, darl- haired, aggressively enterpris- ing. Serene contentment had been theirs for a while. It might have remained, had she been able to take to his beloved hobby of rock -climbing. ' The jaunt to the northern crags with a mixed party ped been a nightmare, a sick dizzi- ness of panic. She had seen bis public smiles of sympathy, and creed his private thoughts, and had wanted to weep. She could still hear his restrained com- ment: "You've taught me a bit about flowers. But I can't seem to teach you about climbing. Something in his voice had given the truth away — and he was right. The challenge of risk found her wanting. She nodded unhappily, tip- ped a rose into the basket — then turned suddenly at the sound of a slight rustling by the hedge. In that second the breath stopped in her throat and an iciness chilled her spine. The man who brushed through the hedge had massive should- ers, glossy brown hair, and pale blue, wild eyes. His dull, grey uniform and the axe he carried told her wha: the siren had proclaimed half an hour ago - that he'd escaped. from the near -by criminal nye lum. She heard the pumping of her heart and the dry whisper of her voice. "Good evening." "Good Sar me," he said, ani grinned—a false, ugly grin. In a dim, feverish fashion she was reminding herself that Joint would be calling at six. Strong as he was, how could he cope with a half -demented giant wtlh an axe? "Pretty place, this," said the ,man, thumbing the edge of the axe. She gave half a nod, and went on gathering flowers in a stu- pefied, unseeing manner, as if her mind had nothing to do vett) the job. Her fingers plucked a dead rhododendron blossom, a :prig of deadly nightshade -- muddled, futile bouquet worm Metering into the basket, He said suddenly: "Get insult• or . She swung round in bltiid nledience, walked .along Ile ;lagged path to Use front done, :'rrified by his following neat - nu Is. eat -nuts. Once again she knew the cheadful fear that she had ex- perienced on the rock -face, it was as though all the blood had drained out of her and her will power had melted to water. The door clicked shut on theist. them. He glanced about the tiny sitting -room, at the mu- tate pulled across One end, "What's in there?" Words stumbled on her lids. "My bedroom, It's Only a doll's house. The other door leads to the kitchen." lie looked beyond the curtain, and inside the kitchen doorway. She stood by the small table, trying to arrange the unsight- ly mixture of flowers in aochina howl. ' Then he noticed the 'phone in the corner by 1110 window, and severed the cord with a snick of the axe. "That's better." His grin was summing .her up, approving, "No • need to be seared. Do as you're told and you'll be O.K. Let's have some tea." She said with choked urgen- cy: 'What's •your name? Year first name?" "Darrell." "It's—it's unusual. I like It. Well, Darrell, could we have tea a little later?" "Why?" "I've a man friend calling at six, and it's almost that now." "I'11 deal with him,", he said complacently, swinging the axe. "But, please, there's no need. 1 can get rid of him in a few minutes. Afterwards we could have a nice long tea together. I'd enjoy it. Wouldn't you?" The pale eyes were staring at. her, deep into hers. "What's the trick?" "Don't be silly, Darrell. There's no trick, While he's here, you stay behind tate curtain. That's all„ In the distance came the sound of a car slowing, to 'a halt: His face twisted viciously, and his body was poised with the alertness of a cat. She stepped forward, actual- ly touched his arm' "Listen, Darrell. He'll be here in a mm- ute.. He's an arcnitecl. He works at Holmstead and lives at Ling - bridge. He won't mind going quickly. He's always busy with plans, You hide behind the cur- tain till he's gone. We'll have heaps of time together." The grin was savouring, yet doubtful, "Try to warn him, and you're both done for. Under stand?" •"05 course 1 understand, Do 'be sensible. Get behind the cur- tain. He's coming up the path," Darrell fondled the axe, hesi- tated, then slid out of sight. She sat down in the chair on the far side of the table, facing the curtain,, and called out: "Let yourself in, John." The latch clicked and the door opened. He paused a sec- sD ond, walked over and leaned down to kiss her. "Hullo, Erica," There was an air of puzzlement about him. "Are you all right?" "Yes. Yes, of course. Tired, that's. all. Take. the other ehatt But you tnustn't'Stay lend, 1`.e a big consignment et herbs to get ready for to -morrow " He sat dews: with his back to the curtain, "Sure you're all right?" "Quite all right," There was a rustle behind the curtain. "What the devil . .3" "Ween" She knew that sweat was beading her forehead and triekling down the bridge of her small straight nose, "Phew; It's warm, Mice. That's the worst of these old cottages. I'11' have to get some more traps," Then she added: "How d'yttu like my flower arrangement?" He laughed. "Not much, Some of these modern ideas»are plumb ugly." "Not so tnodern," she said, "not so modern." Her fingers were touching, the jostle of un- lovely petals. She went on play- ing with them, "They say bean- ty's in the eye of the beholder. Ugliness is, too, cif you see what I mean," He leaned forward. "Erica, what's the matter?" "I've told you," she said with . deft emphasis. "0•h, John, would you very much mind if T asked you to go? When I've got this sort of tiredness, I want to be completely alone." He brow wrinkled, ,For sec- onds his expression held sur- prise, then alarm. He got up and said stiltedly: "I'd hardly call this a welcome. But if you want me to go—" Her eyes met his in veiied pleading. He stooped, kissed her once more, and went cut abrupt- ly. As the car shot away with a roar, Darrell emerged from be- 'hind the curtain. "That was well - handled. You're a girl with sense as well as looks."' She smiled up at him. "Sit down and tell me all about yourself. You're interesting. The flattery worked. He put the axe on the table, took the other chair. For twenty minutes he talked non-stop, full of his own insane conceit. She was pretending to listen to his voice, while straining her ears to hear something else, -a hint of reas- suring sound from outside the cottage. The strain of hoping and dreading tautened to crisis, Panic sucked at her veins. . Without warning, two pairs t.f hands darted through the open window. Darrell was quick, but they were quicker. They grab- bed his shoulders, jerked and toppled him backwards away from the axe. Two more warders 'burst through the doorway and piled on top of him. Behind them .came John. He caught her as see made a queer little sound and swayed. Her grab at the" table upset the bowl of flowers. "Steady,' darling! You're' safe now". He smiled down at the fallen and tasteless muddle of blooms. "That one for danger. That one for an enemy near. Thank God you taught me a bit of the flower language. Pd heard about the siren before I lett Holmstead. But I only tumbled to things at the last moment." He held her to him, "You've got more nerve than any rock - climber," he said, tenderly. -- From From "Tit -Bits" CUSHIONING THE BLOW? A Yorkshire girl thought it would be a good idea if all her love letters were torn up and made into a cushion for her wedding ceremony. She did so, and knelt on it at the altar on the day she was married. "Nobody wants to get rid of love letters," she said, "and if I ever want to read them again it will be fun putting them to- gether!" Odd i'eat*iiulkk1Rng About thirty-five years ago when I first began to notiee birds, the one that seemed strangest to nae was the crested ftycetcher, Eaelt spring, in tate April or early May, when l heard its loud cry of "w -b -e -e -o -a -e -pt" ring through the southern New Jer- sey woodlands, 1 knew that it had returned to spend the sum- mer. The crested flycatcher had one habit that puzzled me and lent a deeply mysterious air to this hole -nesting bird of the woods. In most of its nests I found al- most invariably a piece • of dried snakeskin. Usually there were a few pieces in each nest: some- times an entire castoff snake- skin lay draped over the outer edge and trailed outside of the cavity in the tree In which the nest had been built. Some of the older and wiser people of my home village had a solution to this problem. They said that crested flycatchers put snake - skins in their nests to frighten away any animal that might try to eat their eggs or young ones. Long befort 1 got Interested in crested flycatchers, naturalists had puzzled over this strange habit and had a much more Logi- cal explanation for it. One man -in West Virginia who studied the ways of crested flycatchers iden- tified the castoff skins of at least five kinds of harmless snakes which these birds had woven into their nests, Yet, in some nests, crested flycatchers hadn't usea the moulted skins of snakes at all. Instead they had added pieces of tate shiny, outer skins of onions, waxed paper, paraffin paper, strips of cellophane, and other materials that resemble dried, castoff -snakeskin. Ap- parently the shininess of snake- skin makes it attractive nest ma- terial to crested flycatchers, not any supposed protective value it ong- bids in Yourives thes Garden,'' by Sohn K. Terres. Now Can 1? G} Anne P"ht",' Q. How can 1 "'arilitate. the threading of a needle? A. Cutting the thread on a slant before .threading a needle will point it and make mach easier the task of sticking it through the eye of the needle. Q. How can 1 prevent grass and weeds from growing be- tween tate bricks of the brick walk? A. Pour crank case oil over them two or three tunes a sea- son. The oil will soon evaporate and' the weeds will be killed. CANDY DANDY — Old-fash- ioned rock candy and sour balls are the inspirations for a new style in summer jewelry. Ear- rings, multistrand necklace and bracelet make up the ensemble. SIDEWALK SUPERS GET RECOGNITION — As common to a build- ing site as steel and cement is the sidewalk superintendent. Now, after eons of makeshift operations, he's coming into Itis own At left, group of supers is given report on new Manhattan skyscraper by bank of phones. Dulcet -voiced lady reports on endless tape. In Toledo, right, closed-circuit TV keeps supers in touch with upper -floor work.