“The next Monday mornin’ I was taken into court the same way, and the han’-cuffs was unlocked, and I was set down to the table by my lawyer. One guard set just back of me and the other at the side. Someone started a story that a gang of Bridgeport toughs was comin’ to rescue me, but of course there wa’n’t nothin’ in it. I didn’t have a friend that even come to see me—but the newspapers all printed the story, and, of course, that was against me too.
“When the judge called the case, he asked if we was ready, and my lawyer said he needed more time; that he’d done all he could to get ready, but he hadn’t had time. But the judge wouldn’t pay a bit of attention to him, and said he must go to trial at once, and told the bailiff to call a jury. So the bailiff called the names of twelve men and they took their seats in two rows of chairs along one side of the room. Ever’ one of ‘em looked at me as if he didn’t like to be in the same room where I was. Then the lawyers commenced askin’ ‘m questions—where they lived, and how long they had lived there, and where they lived before, and how much rent they paid, and what they worked at, and how long they’d worked there, and what they’d done before, and what their fathers done, and where they come from, and was they dead, and if they was married, and how many times, and if they had children, and how many, and how old, and if they was boys or girls, and if the children went to school, and what they studied, and if they belonged to the church, and what one, and if they belonged to any societies or lodges or labor unions, or knew anyone, or read the papers, or didn’t believe in hangin’ people, and if they believed in ‘circumstantial evidence,’ and if they’d hang on circumstantial evidence, and if they believed in the law—and a lot of other things that I can’t remember. If anyone didn’t believe in hangin’ he was let go right away; and if they didn’t believe in circumstantial evidence they didn’t keep ‘em either.
“The other lawyer asked questions first and it didn’t take him very long to get the ones that he wanted. Ever’one said he believed in hangin’, and they all said they’d hang anybody on circumstantial evidence. After he got through my lawyer questioned ‘em. They all said that they’d read all about the case, and had formed an opinion about it—and they all looked at me as if they had. Then my lawyer objected to ‘em, and the judge said to each one, ‘Well, even if you have formed an opinion, don’t you think you could lay that aside and not pay any attention to it, and try the case on the evidence and give the prisoner the benefit of the doubt? Don’t you think that in spite of the opinion you could presume him innocent when you begin?’ Most of ‘em said they could; one of ‘em said he couldn’t. Then the judge lectured him for not bein’ able to give anyone a fair trial, no matter who he was, and said we’d have to take the others, and told us to go ahead and get another one. So my lawyer tried another one and found him just like the rest. But the judge made us take him anyway. He said they was perfectly fair jurors, and we couldn’t expect to get men that sympathized with crime.
“It ain’t any use to tell you all about gettin’ the jury, and then I hain’t got time. Both sides had a right to strike off twenty without any reason at all, only that they didn’t like ‘em. We took a long time to get a jury. We didn’t get much of any until after we had struck off ‘most all of our twenty. All the jurors seemed to have made up their minds, but pretty nearly all of ‘em said it didn’t make any difference; they could give me a fair trial even if their minds was made up.
“I noticed that they struck off workin’-men and Catholics, and people that didn’t have any religion, and foreigners, and I noticed my lawyer struck off Baptists, and Presbyterians, and Swedes, and G. A. R.’s. It took three or four days to get the jury, and then we hadn’t any more challenges left, and so we had to take ‘em. Pretty near ever’one of ‘em said they’d read all about the case in all the papers and had their minds made up. I knew, of course, that meant they was against me. But still they all said that didn’t make no difference if they had got their minds made up, they could forget their opinions and go at the case as if they believed I was innocent. But ever’one of ‘em said he believed in hangin’, and all of ‘em said that circumstantial evidence was good enough for him. I set there ‘side of the table with my lawyer and looked ‘em over, and tried to make up my mind what they was thinkin’ of, but they wa’n’t one of ‘em would look at me when they knew I was lookin’, and I could see from the way they did that they was sure all the time that I done it, and ought to swing. Of course, I know it’s the law that when a feller’s placed on trial they’re s’posed to be innocent, but I knew that the judge and all them twelve men felt sure I was guilty or I wouldn’t have been there. Of course I done it. I don’t know anything that would’ve done any good, but all the same it’s pretty tough to be tried by a jury when they think you ought to be hung before they commence.
“After they got the jury the other lawyer told ‘em about the case, and he made it awful black. I don’t know how he ever found out all the things he said. Of course a good many of ‘em was true and a good many wa’n’t true, but he made out that I was the worst man that ever lived. The judge listened to ever’ word he said and looked over to me ever’ once in a while, as if he wondered how I ever could’ve done it, and was glad that I was where I belonged at last. The jury watched ever’ word the lawyer said, and looked at me ever’ once in a while to see how I stood it. Of course it was mighty hard, but I done the best I could. When he got through the judge asked my lawyer what he had to say, and he said he wouldn’t tell his side now. Then they commenced puttin’ in the evidence.
“I s’pose you read all about it at the time, but the papers always gave me the worst of it, and the evidence wa’n’t near so bad as it looked in the papers. Of course they proved about the boy goin’ out the next mornin’ to the neighbors, and cryin’ for his pa and ma, and about ever’one lookin’ all over for us without findin’ us nor any trace of either one, and about the horse and wagon both lookin’ as if it had been out all night. And then the folks as lived next door told about hearin’ me say ‘you damned bitch,’ and hearin’ someone fall, though they didn’t think much of it then as they’d heard so many rows before. And then they told about findin’ a piece of brown paper covered with blood, and then they brought in a doctor, or someone who said he’d examined it with a magnifyin’ glass and it was human blood. He wa’n’t quite sure whether it was a gentleman or a lady; but he knew ‘twas one or the other. Then they brought in the paper and handed it to the jury, and passed it down along both rows, and ever’one took it in his hand and felt it, and looked at it just as if they never had seen any paper like that before, and wanted to make sure ‘twas paper and not cloth. Of course the minute I seen it I knew it was the paper that had the beefsteak in it, and I told my lawyer what it was. An’ I got right up to say something and the judge looked at me just as cross and says ‘Set down and keep still; you’ve got a lawyer to talk for you, and if you say anything more, I’ll send you to jail.’ Of course I was scart to hear him speak to me that way before the jury and the whole room full of people, and I knew that it would show ever’one that the judge was against me. Some of the papers next day made out that I jumped up and was goin’ to run away when I seen the bloody paper.
“My lawyer had another doctor examine a piece of the paper that night, and he said it was a cow or an ox, but he wouldn’t come and testify to it unless I’d give him a hundred dollars, but of course I didn’t have that. The court room was awful still when they passed around that paper; you could hear the jurors breathe and they held their heads down as if they felt sorry about somethin’. And after they’d looked it all over the lawyer took it, and the judge says: ‘Let me see that paper,’ and he put on his spectacles and looked it all over, first on one side and then on the other. He had a little bit of a magnifyin’ glass in one hand, and he put it over the paper and looked at it through the glass, and then he looked at me just as solemn as if it was a funeral, and I seen it was all up with me. Of course, I told my lawyer just where I got it and what it was, and he went down to the butcher shop and seen the man, but the man was ‘fraid to come, and said he didn’t remember ‘bout the steak nor about me; he guessed he’d seen me—I used to come down that way to peddle—but he couldn’t tell whether I was in the shop that night or not.
“Then they brought the boys who had found her in a pool of water out on the prairie two or three days after, and they brought some of the clothes she had on. They was all covered with mud, and they passed ‘em all around to the jury and the judge, just the same as they did the paper. Of course, these did look pretty bad, and they made me feel kind of faint, for I’d thought about her a good deal the last few days, and dreamed about her almost every night, and sometimes I’d dream that ever’thing was all right, and then wake up and remember just how ‘twas. I don’t know which is worse: to dream that the thing was done and see it all before you, just as if you were doin’ it all over again, and then wake up and know it was a dream, and then know it was so, or to dream that you’re livin’ together all right and are happy, and then wake up and find that’s a dream, and you’re in jail for murder and can’t never get out alive.
“Then they proved about how the poker just fit into the place in her head, and how it was took back into the kitchen and put into the ashes again, so ‘twouldn’t show, and how far I drove that day, and ever’ saloon I stopped into on the way, and just how much I drank, and ever’thing I done, except the beefsteak I bought and that half peck of potatoes that I gave away to the old lady. Then they proved all about my runnin’ away, and where I’d been, and what I’d done, and my changin’ my name, and the way I was caught.