The second trial was had, and although the evidence adduced was the same as upon the preceding occasion, or if anything stronger and more convincing, the jury disagreed and were finally discharged.
A remarkable feature of this disagreement was the fact that upon the final polling of the jury that was taken, the vote given was: For murder in the first degree, nine; for murder in the second degree, two; and for absolute acquittal, one.
Grave doubts were entertained of the influence which induced that single vote, but in the absence of any proof to the contrary it must be regarded as an honest opinion conscientiously given.
Another respite was thus afforded the unhappy prisoner, and the third trial—now just completed—was fixed for the thirteenth day of April in the present year.
Again the court has been convened, and the formality of a trial has been gone through with. The jury have been sworn, the witnesses have been examined and arguments have been made. Still, despite the vigorous and persistent attacks that have been attempted, truth prevails in the courts of law, and justice is triumphant.
After a laborious trial, lasting over three weeks, the jury have rendered a verdict of "Guilty of murder in the second degree," and the prisoner, standing tremblingly before the bar of justice, has been condemned to "imprisonment for life."
After exhausting all the technicalities that could be devised, the murderer of Henry Schulte will suffer the penalties of the law.
Again we will visit the prison and look within the narrow cell where William Bucholz is confined. After a long struggle, fate has overtaken him. The dark shadows of night have gathered over the gloomy walls of the structure, and William Bucholz is now alone—the pale, thin face and the sunken eyes tell the agonizing story of unending anxiety and those sleepless vigils attendant upon the terrible state of uncertainty through which he has passed, and the doom which he is now to suffer.
His hair is disordered and he wildly pushes it away from his temples, as though its trifling weight added to the burden already resting upon his brain. The veins stand out upon his temples—now almost bursting with the intensity of the thoughts that have been crowding upon him—and still they come, vivid and terrible.