The Crime of the Century; Or, The Assassination of Dr. Patrick Henry Cronin

by Henry M. Hunt

"Now, how is that met? We are told that the saloon-keeper is mistaken, that this man never saw O'Sullivan and Coughlin and Kunze, but that on the Sunday night Patrick O'Sullivan went there to that very saloon with the two Hylands, and that they had two glasses of wine and a cigar each. Gentlemen, you will remember that the saloon-keeper, who is a German, distinctly said that the smaller man asked for beer and spoke with a German accent. The younger Hyland never spoke with a German accent in his life. Which do you propose to believe—Neiman, the saloon-keeper, who has no earthly interest whatever in giving false testimony against O'Sullivan or the friends of Patrick O'Sullivan? These two strangers who go to see him for the first time are compelled to stay and take dinner, and are then taken out to the saloon and each given two glasses of wine and a cigar at the expense of O'Sullivan. Remember, gentlemen, he had never seen these two Hylands before that Sunday afternoon. The truth is, that when they say those three men were in that saloon, the two Hylands and O'Sullivan, they admit unconsciously the fact that three men were there, as the saloon-keeper testified; they admit that O'Sullivan was there and the thing is narrowed down to a simple question of veracity between the saloon-keeper on the one hand and the Hylands on the other. There is much more reason, vastly more reason, I submit, why the evidence of the saloon-keeper, who knew O'Sullivan perfectly, should be believed in preference to that of the two Hylands, who are ready to swear anything to help their friend out of a scrape. Now, what else is disputed?

"An attempt is also made to dispute that portion of the evidence tending to show that O'Sullivan was at the Carlson cottage. How is it done? Again they resort to an alibi. As I said to you in the opening of this case, and I will now repeat, that if O'Sullivan was at home and in bed at the time the murder was committed, and you are satisfied from the evidence that he was engaged in that conspiracy, he is just as guilty as if he struck the fatal blow himself. Against the testimony of Neiman, who saw him there with Coughlin and Kunze in that saloon, and of Wardell, who saw him and Coughlin enter the Carlson cottage after they left the saloon, they produce the evidence of Mulcahey, a man who became connected with O'Sullivan under the most suspicious circumstances. That man testified that he came to Chicago a perfect stranger; that he went to O'Sullivan—went to his house on the 31st of April—was instantly taken in and kept and boarded there, slept in the same bed with O'Sullivan, rolled around the street in the ice wagon and slept with him on the night of the murder. He swears also that he was with O'Sullivan when old Carlson claimed to have heard the conversation between O'Sullivan and Burke; he swears also that he heard Coughlin and O'Sullivan arrange that O'Sullivan was to keep his eye upon Kunze and report if he saw him in Lake View. In short, gentlemen, he was a very convenient sort of witness. What was he doing there all the month? He was not working for O'Sullivan, yet he slept in the same bed with him—a perfect stranger, and, strange as it may appear, he only went into the employ of O'Sullivan a few days before the murder. I undertake to say, gentlemen, that his testimony is false, that O'Sullivan was not in bed, that on the contrary he and Burke and Coughlin were engaged in the murder at the Carlson cottage. Who is there that corroborates his testimony? The two women, a cousin of O'Sullivan's by marriage and his sister. Tom Whelan was too sound a sleeper to know whether O'Sullivan was in bed or was up or out, and they ask you to believe that sort of an alibi against the evidence you have on the part of the prosecution."

KUNZE'S PART IN THE MURDER.

"What is the evidence against Kunze? He was the friend, the tool of Coughlin. It is in evidence that he had been engaged with Dan Coughlin in working up the distillery case. How much of a detective he is I do not know, but I don't suppose he is a very great one. If I were to guess at it I should say he was a detective's stool pigeon.

"He had been engaged with Coughlin for months. Mertes swears that he saw him drive their horse with a white face up to the cottage the night of the murder, and you will remember that he picked him out from a number of men. Mertes is a countryman of Kunze's, and he would not be likely to testify against his own countryman unless truth compelled him to do so. He tells you that Kunze drove a horse and buggy up to that Carlson cottage at 8:30 o'clock on the night of the murder, and, more than that, it is in evidence that Kunze was perfectly at home in the rooms at 117 Clark street, and was seen by a very intelligent witness sitting in front of the window washing his feet. Now, what was he doing at 117 South Clark street, if he was not engaged in that conspiracy? The men who engaged that flat at 117 Clark street, those conspirators, were not going to trust their lives to men they did not know; and the truth is that he was the tool of Coughlin. More than that, it is in evidence that he said he expected to be arrested on the Cronin business. Why? Why? I repeat."

"Because I was told so," suddenly cried Kunze, springing to his feet.

"This man is defended by able lawyers," retorted Mr. Ingham, "and on their heads is the responsibility of his defense."

"God knows I am innocent of the murder of Dr. Cronin," cried Kunze, again springing to his feet, and there was a scene of excitement for a few minutes. Finally his counsel forced him to his seat, and induced him to remain quiet.

"Why did he say he expected to be arrested on the Cronin business? I repeat," continued Mr. Ingham. "It was because he felt he was connected with that business. Coughlin knew him, Coughlin had worked with him, and Coughlin knew that in this case their lives were safe in his hands. It is in evidence that shortly after the murder he was with Patrick O'Sullivan drinking, and you will remember a conversation which was detailed by a saloon-keeper, and which occurred shortly before the murder, wherein Patrick O'Sullivan made a bargain to sell to Kunze the bay horse with a white face. Why was that horse sold to Kunze, this little painter who was working around the country, this man who was in the employ of the detective and trusted by Coughlin? Will you, gentlemen of the jury, tell me why O'Sullivan, who lived at the rear of the Carlson cottage, and whose stable almost abutted on the cottage, was selling this poor painter a horse?"

WHOM THE EVIDENCE POINTS TO.