Part II.
JUDICIAL ERRORS.
CHAPTER I.
WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
Judge Cambo, of Malta—The D’Anglades—The Murder of Lady Mazel—Execution of William Shaw for the Murder of his Daughter—The Sailmaker of Deal and the alleged Murder of a Boatswain—Brunell the Innkeeper—Du Moulin, the Victim of a Gang of Coiners—The Famous Calas Case at Toulouse—Gross Perversion of Justice at Nuremberg—The Blue Dragoon.
THE criminal annals of all countries record cases of innocent persons condemned by judicial process on grounds that seemed sufficient at the time, but that ultimately proved mistaken. Where circumstantial evidence is alone forthcoming, terrible errors have been committed, and when, later, new facts are brought to light, the mischief has been done. There is a family likeness in these causes of judicial mistake: strong personal resemblance between the real criminal and another; strangely suspicious facts confirming a first strong conjecture, such as the suspected person having been near the scene of the crime, having let drop incautious words, being found with articles the possession of which has been misinterpreted or has given a wrong impression. Often a sudden accusation has produced confusion, and consequently a strong presumption of guilt. Or the accused, although perfectly innocent, has been weak enough to invent a false defence, as in the case quoted by Sir Edward Coke of a man charged with killing his niece. The accused put forward another niece in place of the victim to show that the alleged murder had never taken place. The trick was discovered, his guilt was assumed, and he paid the penalty with his life. On the other hand, the deliberate cunning of the real criminal has succeeded but too often in shifting the blame with every appearance of probability upon other shoulders.
JUDGE CAMBO OF MALTA.
A curious old story of judicial murder, caused by the infatuation of a judge, is to be found in the annals of Malta, when under the Knights, early in the eighteenth century. This judge, Cambo by name, rising early one morning, heard an affray in the street, just under his window. Looking out, he saw one man stab another. The wounded man, who had been flying for his life, reeled and fell. At this moment the assassin’s cap came off, and his face was for a moment fully exposed to the judge above. Then, quickly picking up the cap, he ran on, throwing away the sheath of his knife, and, turning into another street, disappeared.
While still doubtful how he should act, the judge now saw a baker, carrying his loaves for distribution, approach the scene of the murder. Before he reached the place where the corpse lay, he saw the sheath of the stiletto, picked it up, and put it into his pocket. Walking on, he came next upon the corpse. Terrified at the sight, and losing all self-control, he ran and hid himself lest he should be charged with the crime. But at that moment a police patrol entered the street, and saw him disappearing just as they came upon the body of the murdered man. They naturally concluded that the fugitive was the criminal, and made close search for him. When they presently caught him, they found him confused and incoherent, a prey to misgiving at the suspicious position in which he found himself. He was searched, and the sheath of the stiletto was discovered in his pocket. When tried, it was found that the sheath exactly fitted the knife lying by the side of the corpse. The baker was accordingly taken into custody and carried off to prison.
All this went on under the eyes of the judge, yet he did not interpose to protect an innocent man. The police came and reported both murder and arrest; still he said nothing. He was at the time the presiding judge in the criminal court, and it was before him that the wretched baker was eventually tried. Cambo was a dull, stupid person, and he now conceived that he was forbidden to act from his own private knowledge in the matter brought before him—that he must deal with the case according to
the evidence of the witnesses. So he sat on the Bench to hear the circumstantial proofs against a man who he had no sort of doubt was actually innocent. When he saw that the evidence was insufficient, amounting to no more than semi prova, half-proof, according to Maltese law, he used every endeavour to make the accused confess his crime. Failing in this, he ordered the baker to be “put to the question,” with the result that the man, under torture, confessed to what he had not done. Cambo was now perfectly satisfied; the accused, innocent in fact, was guilty according to law, and having thus satisfied himself that his procedure was right, he carried his strange logic to the end, and sentenced the baker to death. “Horrible to relate,” says the old chronicle, “the hapless wretch soon after underwent the sentence of the law.”