CHAPTER XL.
INVESTIGATING THE TURNER MURDER—A WICKED DEED FOLLOWED BY A GENERAL DEBAUCH—FLIGHT OF THE ASSASSINS WITH THEIR VICTIM’S REMAINS—SALE OF HIS TEAMS AND WAGONS—THE FATHER’S UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH—DETECTIVE CARR CALLED IN—WELCOME ARRESTED IN CHEYENNE AND CONFRONTED BY TURNER’S FATHER—CONFESSION AND TRIAL OF THE MURDERER.
At Park City there were found witnesses who had seen the murderers on the evening of the tragedy, before and after its occurrence, and their conduct had been shameful in the extreme. Whether a quarrel was picked with Turner was not known, but the circumstances went to show that there had been no quarrel, but that the murderers had found their victim sitting, and had advanced upon him from his rear, striking him in the head with a heavy axe, the blow being of such force as to cleave the skull and produce instant death. Welcome asserted after his capture that the blow had been struck by Emerson, but all the circumstances went to show that Welcome himself had wielded the death-dealing weapon. The skull wound showed that the blow had been struck by a left-handed person, and Welcome was left-handed.
There were also several persons who had seen blood on his garments after the tragedy had occurred, as it had spurted upon him from his victim. His threats, too, were remembered. About 11 o’clock on the night of the killing, and after it had occurred, there were several who had seen Emerson and Welcome at a dance house where they seemed to be especially hilarious, drinking and dancing with the girls and making themselves especially agreeable to those whom they met. One man who was in the dance house at the time noticed blood on Welcome’s shirt front and asked him what it meant. Welcome at first tried to hide the blood; apparently upon second thought, threw his vest open and showed the blood, and also pulled up his coat sleeve and showed blood on that, saying as he did so:
“I hit a s— of a b— to-night, and I hit him hard, too. I not only hit him, but I pinched his windpipe for him.”
Several others saw the blood and to them he made this same speech, but no one supposed that anything more than an ordinary fight had occurred, and none gave the matter a second thought.
The murderers remained about Park City for two days and three nights after committing the crime, mingling freely with the lower classes of people and having as before a gay time. They had laid the body of their dead companion in the wagon with the barley sacks, and, cold-blooded and merciless as they had been, had been afraid to stay at their camp during the night, and had gone to town each night to carouse and to sleep, when they could sleep. They appeared to be nonchalant, but they found, as all murderers do, of however hardened character, that the crime bore down upon them. It was a heavy weight. They tried to drown it in drink and in the gayeties of dance house merriment. But they failed signally.
The murderers concluded that they must get rid of the body and that then they would find peace of conscience. They determined to move on, taking the body as well as the property of the murdered boy with them, and to find some place to hide it from view, thinking that in this case, as in some others, the object being out of sight would be out of mind. They journeyed on, however, selling some of the barley by the way, until they came to a lonely and secluded spot in Echo cañon, where they camped for the night, and where they lifted the body of their former companion from its resting place in the wagon from among the barley sacks, and as the darkness came on in the deep cañon, laid it to rest, leaving the owls and night hawks to sing the funeral dirge, and the moaning pines to offer up prayers for safe passage to the Great Beyond.
So the murderers were freed from their burden and they passed on over the country. But were they happy? And did they find that contentment of mind which they had hoped would come after getting rid of the corpse of their late friend? At Green River, Welcome said to a barkeeper whom he met there: “I can not sleep well at night; I am afraid.”
He then asked the barkeeper:
“Did you ever kill a man?” and added, “I never did.” Then he stopped for a moment as if engaged in thought, and said: “Yes, I have; I have killed a young and innocent man in cold blood.”
He seemed lost for a moment, and soon took his departure with a troubled countenance.
From the time the body was disposed of in the lonely spot in Echo cañon, the men pushed rapidly eastward, making an effort at every opportunity to dispose of their barley and their teams and wagons. They disposed of the grain at Evanston, and of the first team at Piedmont. Journeying on, they stopped for a few days at Green River, where the second team and wagon were sold. The articles were all offered at prices below their real values, and some suspicion was created. The murderers declared that they had owned the animals for four years; but they at last found a man who had known the team as belonging to Turner, and who had telegraphed him of the effort of a stranger to sell them.
This was the first clue which the father had of the son’s murder. While he was coming to Green River, accompanied by his friend, Sheriff Allison, the two men, having at last disposed of the property, took their departure quietly, and no one seemed to know which way they had gone. The pursuers only reached the place to find that their game had flown, and to find themselves arrived at the place with nothing to do, and with the prospect of starting back home without finding the object of their search. The old father’s heart was almost broken. As a last resort they telegraphed to Detective Carr, Superintendent Cook’s assistant at Cheyenne, on the 23d of July, and succeeded in getting him interested in the case. He had no idea that the murderer was near him at the time of receiving the telegram, but he immediately set to work with his usual vigor and shrewdness to bring down his game. He did not have to wait long.
Mr. Carr soon learned that there was a young man in the city who answered the description given of the murderer of young Turner. A brief investigation convinced the officer that this was the man that was wanted, but the detective determined to “make haste slowly” and as he knew that the fellow could not dodge him, he decided to watch him awhile before taking him in, merely for the sake of entirely satisfying himself as to the correctness of his conclusions. He found that the young man had been a guest at a leading hotel for a week past, and that he had been making himself generally agreeable, spending money freely and seeming to be in very easy circumstances. He was especially fond of buggy riding, and was a liberal patron of the livery stables. On the day that the telegram was received the young man went out for a drive, but, although he did not know that such was the case, he was closely shadowed by Carr.
The dispatch came just in time, for later in the day the murderer undertook to continue his journey eastward, going to the depot to take the train for Omaha. He was followed to the platform by Detective Carr, who by this time had learned that the pursuing officers would arrive in Cheyenne on the same train which Welcome had intended to board.
The scene as arranged and enacted proved tragic in the extreme. As the old father and his friend Allison stepped off the train at one end of the smoking car, Welcome undertook to step on at the other end.
Carr had stood around carelessly up to this time, but as the young man started to the train he said, sotto voce, “No you don’t,” and walking up to the young man laid his heavy hand on his shoulder, causing the youth to look with something of an astonished air, and exclaim:
“What is it?”
“I am a detective.”
“Oh, you are?”
“Yes, sir; come with me.”
“What for?”
“For murder—for the murder of young Turner.”
“So you’ve overtaken me. Well, by G—d, I suppose I’ll have to go! I did it, and there is no use to kick. Where are you taking me?”
“To meet the father of the man you murdered.”
![[Larger Image]](#2680566393133688527_img29.jpg.id-6177089720171211232.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
Arrest of Welcome by T. Jeff Carr, in Cheyenne.
At this suggestion the fellow trembled visibly, but went along. When he was brought face to face with old man Turner, the latter’s face turned ashen pale, his teeth were set in a moment, and his hand was thrust into his hip pocket. A moment later and the sun’s rays were gleaming along the barrel of a large revolver which the old man had pulled, and with which, in a second more, he would have laid his son’s murderer low.
Mr. Carr, seeing the turn affairs were taking, stepped in to prevent further bloodshed.
Welcome was taciturn and sullen in the presence of the father of his victim, but being again alone with Carr, he said:
“By G—d I done it, and I expect to swing for it. I killed Turner and sold his team, and have spent the money. I am guilty and I expect to swing; of course I do.”
Before leaving for home with the prisoner, Mr. Turner said to a Cheyenne reporter, with whom he talked:
“I want you to distinctly understand that Mr. Carr of your place deserves all the credit of catching this rascal, and had it not been for him he would have slipped our fingers.”
The reward in this case amounted to a round thousand.
Once on board the train bound for Utah, Welcome became quite communicative. He had told Carr before leaving that he himself had killed young Turner, and that he had done so because he had a grudge against him, and because he wanted his property. Now he denied all connection with the murder, and said that the crime had been committed by Emerson, saying that Emerson and Turner had quarreled, and that Emerson killed Turner in the fight.
The trial took place at Salt Lake City, on the 18th day of February, 1881, and resulted in proving a clear case against Welcome, who did not introduce a particle of rebutting testimony. The jury was out only a few minutes, when it brought in a verdict of guilty in the first degree. The sentence would necessarily have been death, had not Welcome’s lawyers succeeded in getting his case before the supreme court, where it was remanded back for a new trial.
Emerson, Welcome’s accomplice, was disposed of more summarily. He was captured near Green River, in August, 1880, and tried at the succeeding May term of the Salt Lake district court, and sentenced to the penitentiary for life, and he is now serving out his sentence.