There is no end to the series of improbabilities growing out of the prosecutor's story.
One thing especially deserves notice. Wherever Goodridge searches, he always finds something; and what he finds, he always can identify and swear to, as being his. The thing found has always some marks by which he knows it. Yet he never finds much. He never finds the mass of his lost treasure. He finds just enough to be evidence, and no more.
These are the circumstances which tend to raise doubts of the truth of the prosecutor's relation. It is for the jury to say, whether it would be safe to convict any man for this robbery until these doubts shall be cleared up. No doubt they are to judge him candidly; but they are not to make every thing yield to a regard to his reputation, or a desire to vindicate him from the suspicion of a fraudulent prosecution.
He stands like other witnesses, except that he is a very interested witness; and he must hope for credit, if at all, from the consistency and general probability of the facts to which he testifies. The jury will not convict the prisoners to save the prosecutor from disgrace. He has had every opportunity of making out his case. If any person in the State could have corroborated any part of his story, that person he could have produced. He has had the benefit of full time, and good counsel, and of the Commonwealth's process, to bring in his witnesses. More than all, he has had an opportunity of telling his own story, with the simplicity that belongs to truth, if it were true, and the frankness and earnestness of an honest man, if he be such. It is for the jury to say, under their oaths, how he has acquitted himself in these particulars, and whether he has left their minds free from doubt as to the truth of his narration.
But if Goodridge were really robbed, is there satisfactory evidence that the defendants had a hand in the commission of this offence? The evidence relied on is the finding of the money in their house. It appears that these defendants lived together, and, with a sister, constituted one family. Their father lived in another part of the same house, and with his wife constituted another and distinct family. In this house, some six weeks after the robbery, the prosecutor made a search; and the result has been stated by the witnesses. Now, if the money had been passed or used by the defendants it might have been conclusive. If found about their persons, it might have been very strong proof. But, under the circumstances of this case, the mere finding of money in their house, and that only in places where the prosecutor had previously been, is no evidence at all. With respect to the gold pieces, it is certainly true that they were found in Goodridge's track. They were found only where he had been, and might have put them.
When the sheriff was in the house and Goodridge in the cellar, gold was found in the cellar. When the sheriff was up stairs and Goodridge in the rooms below, the sheriff was called down to look for money where Goodridge directed, and there money was found. As to the bank-note, the evidence is not quite so clear. Mr. Leavitt says he found a note in a drawer in a room in which none of the party had before been; that he thought it an uncurrent or counterfeit note, and not a part of Goodridge's money, and left it where he found it, without further notice. An hour or two afterward, Upton perceived a note in the same drawer, Goodridge being then with or near him, and called to Leavitt. Leavitt told him that he had discovered that note before, but that it could not be Goodridge's. It was then examined. Leavitt says he looked at it, and saw writing on the back of it. Upton says he looked at it, and saw writing on the back of it. He says also that it was shown to Goodridge, who examined it in the same way that he and Leavitt examined it. None of the party at this time suspected it to be Goodridge's. It was then put into Leavitt's pocket-book, where it remained till evening, when it was taken out at the tavern; and then it turns out to be, plainly and clearly, one of Goodridge's notes, and has the name of "James Poor, Bangor," in Goodridge's own handwriting, on the back of it. The first thing that strikes one in this account is, Why was not this discovery made at the time? Goodridge was looking for notes, as well as gold. He was looking for Boston notes, for such he had lost. He was looking for ten-dollar notes, for such he had lost. He was looking for notes which he could recognize and identify. He would, therefore, naturally be particularly attentive to any writing or marks upon such as he might find. Under these circumstances, a note is found in the house of the supposed robbers. It is a Boston note, it is a ten-dollar note, it has writing on the back of it; that writing is the name of his town and the name of one of his neighbors; more than all, that writing is his own handwriting! Notwithstanding all this, neither Goodridge, nor Upton, nor the sheriff, examined it so as to see whether it was Goodridge's money. Notwithstanding it so fully resembled, in all points, the money they were looking for, and notwithstanding they also saw writing on the back of it, which, they must know, if they read it, would probably have shown where it came from, neither of them did so far examine it as to see any proof of its being Goodridge's.
This is hardly to be believed. It must be a pretty strong faith in the prosecutor that could credit this story. In every part of it, it is improbable and absurd. It is much more easy to believe that the note was changed. There might have been, and there probably was, an uncurrent or counterfeit note found in the drawer by Leavitt. He certainly did not at the time think it to be Goodridge's, and he left it in the drawer where he found it. Before he saw it again, the prosecutor had been in that room, and was in or near it when the sheriff was again called in, and asked to put that bill in his pocket-book. How do the jury know that this was the same note which Leavitt had before seen? Or suppose it was. Leavitt carried it to Coffin's; in the evening he produced it, and, after having been handed about for some time among the company, it turns out to be Goodridge's note, and to have upon it infallible marks of identity. How do the jury know that a sleight of hand had not changed the note at Coffin's? It is sufficient to say, the note might have been changed. It is not certain that this is the note which Leavitt first found in the drawer, and this not being certain, it is not proof against the defendants.
Is it not extremely improbable, if the defendants are guilty, that they should deposit the money in the places where it was found? Why should they put it in small parcels in so many places, for no end but to multiply the chances of detection? Why, especially, should they put a doubloon in their father's pocket-book? There is no evidence, nor any ground of suspicion, that the father knew of the money being in his pocket-book. He swears he did not know it. His general character is unimpeached, and there is nothing against his credit. The inquiry at Stratham was calculated to elicit the truth; and, after all, there is not the slightest reason to suspect that he knew that the doubloon was in his pocket-book. What could possibly induce the defendants to place it there? No man can conjecture a reason. On the other hand, if this is a fraudulent proceeding on the part of the prosecutor, this circumstance could be explained. He did not know that the pocket-book, and the garment in which it was found, did not belong to one of the defendants. He was as likely, therefore, to place it there as elsewhere. It is very material to consider that nothing was found in that part of the house which belonged to the defendants. Every thing was discovered in the father's apartments. They were not found, therefore, in the possession of the defendants, any more than if they had been discovered in any other house in the neighborhood. The two tenements, it is true, were under the same roof; but they were not on that account the same tenements. They were as distinct as any other houses. Now, how should it happen that the several parcels of money should all be found in the father's possession? He is not suspected, certainly there is no reason to suspect him, of having had any hand either in the commission of the robbery or the concealing of the goods. He swears he had no knowledge of any part of this money being in his house. It is not easy to imagine how it came there, unless it be supposed to have been put there by some one who did not know what part of the house belonged to the defendants and what part did not.
The witnesses on the part of the prosecution have testified that the defendants, when arrested, manifested great agitation and alarm; paleness overspread their faces, and drops of sweat stood on their temples. This satisfied the witnesses of the defendants' guilt, and they now state the circumstances as being indubitable proof. This argument manifests, in those who use it, an equal want of sense and sensibility. It is precisely fitted to the feeling and the intellect of a bum-bailiff. In a court of justice it deserves nothing but contempt. Is there nothing that can agitate the frame or excite the blood but the consciousness of guilt? If the defendants were innocent, would they not feel indignation at this unjust accusation? If they saw an attempt to produce false evidence against them, would they not be angry? And, seeing the production of such evidence, might they not feel fear and alarm? And have indignation, and anger, and terror, no power to affect the human countenance or the human frame?
Miserable, miserable, indeed, is the reasoning which would infer any man's guilt from his agitation when he found himself accused of a heinous offence; when he saw evidence which he might know to be false and fraudulent brought against him; when his house was filled, from the garret to the cellar, by those whom he might esteem as false witnesses; and when he himself, instead of being at liberty to observe their conduct and watch their motions, was a prisoner in close custody in his own house, with the fists of a catch-poll clenched upon his throat.