Free Bloody Williamson by Paul M. Angle Page A

defendants. Six people—three men and three women—had seen Leva Mann near the line of march, but all were certain that he had not been in the mob. Bert Grace was on the public square in Marion practically all morning on the 22nd. Peter Hiller and four friends had driven from Herrin to the powerhouse, had seen the column approaching, had turned around and driven back to Herrin. Otis Clark had been with the mob at Crenshaw Crossing, but instead of wanting to kill the scabs and stop the breed, he was the man who had said that if there was to be any killing, he was through. So said nine men under oath.
    Its alibis offered, the defense spent four days in an effort to impugn the state’s witnesses, particularly William Goodman and Dr. O. F. Shipman. According to defense evidence, their reputation for veracity was execrable, they were prejudiced, and Shipman at least was moved by desire for a reward.
    The last defense witness stepped from the stand late in the afternoon on January 16. Kerr offered to send the case to the jury at once, without argument and without instructions. Otis Glenn, Assistant Attorney General, objected strenuously: the state wanted to review the evidence and proposed that each side takesix hours for argument. While the lawyers wrangled, the judge intervened to say that he would call the case at ten o’clock the next morning and send it to the jury when there were no more arguments to be made.
    Shortly after ten, Duty began the argument for the prosecution. For two hours he reviewed the evidence, recalling particularly damaging testimony offered by the state’s witnesses, ridiculing the alibis of the defendants, stressing the brutality of the mob’s actions. “If these men,” he said, pointing to the defendants, “had any part in the conspiracy, whether they fired a shot or not, they were guilty of murder.… There are no mitigating circumstances. There was no self-defense.…” He concluded by appealing to the jury to do its duty.
    When court convened at two o’clock Kerr announced that the defense would make no argument, thus cutting off further argument on the part of the state. Judge Hartwell announced a recess until the following morning.
    On Thursday, the 18th of January, well over two months since the trial had begun, spectators who crowded the dingy courtroom to capacity listened intently while the judge delivered his charge. At 11.15 the jurors, their faces solemn, filed into the jury room.
    Hours passed. Friends and families of the prisoners sat in groups in the courtroom, now strangely silent, and talked in whispers. Late into the night, in spite of the winter weather, people stood on the walks around the public square, hoping to divine the meaning of the lights that burned in the jury room. Soon after dawn they were on the streets again, joined now by miners dressed in their working clothes, their faces streaked with the black dust of the pits. Still no word came from the courthouse.
    At 1.30 p.m., twenty-six hours after the jury had received the case, word spread that a verdict had been reached. The groups on the streets raced to the courtroom. There the judge, already on the bench, warned that there must be no demonstration.
    The jury filed in; the foreman handed Hartwell a slip of paper. Slowly, evenly, the judge read:
    “Otis Clark, not guilty. Leva Mann, not guilty. Peter Hiller, not guilty. Joe Carnaghi, not guilty. Bert Grace, not guilty.”
    No sound came from the spectators—only the shuffling of feet as they filed out and down the steps. The jurymen, unable to realize that their long ordeal was over, wandered back to the jury room.
    That afternoon came post mortems. “It was a fair and orderly trial,” Judge Hartwell said. “The jury is the judge of the facts and they have passed upon them. I have nothing to say, except that I did the best I could to give and believe I did give a fair and impartial trial.”
    Defense counsel, in a written statement, emphasized the point