I have shown that the story of Walsh is improbable, and that all that Boone swears against these defendants cannot be believed. That Walsh never loaned the money to Brady that he claimed, and that Brady never took from him the notes as he says. That Brady never made in his presence the admissions that he swears to. Think of it; Brady robbing Walsh, and at the same time saying to Walsh, "I am a thief and public robber."
I have shown to you, gentlemen, it seems to me, that no reasonable human being, taking all this evidence into consideration, can base upon it a verdict of guilty. It cannot be done.
Now, gentlemen, the responsibility is upon you, and what is that responsibility? You are to decide a question involving all that these defendants are. You are to decide a question involving all that these defendants hope to be. Their fate is in your hands. Everything they love, everything they hold dear, is in your power. With this fearful responsibility upon you, you have no right to listen to the whispers of suspicion. You have no right to be guided or influenced by prejudice. You have no right to act from fear. You must act with absolute and perfect honesty. You must beware of prejudice. You must beware of taking anything into consideration except the sworn testimony in this case. You must not be controlled by the last word instead of by the last argument! You must not be controlled by the last epithet instead of by the last fact. You must give to every argument, whether made by defendant or prosecution, its full and honest weight. You must put the evidence in the scales of your judgment, and your manhood must stand at the scales, and then you must have the courage to tell which side goes down and which side rises.
That is all we ask. We ask the mercy of an honest verdict, and of your honest opinion. We ask the mercy of a verdict born of your courage, a verdict born of your sense of justice, a verdict born of your manhood, remembering that you are the peers of any in the world. And it is for you to say, gentlemen, whether these defendants are worthy to live among their fellow-citizens; whether they shall be taken from the sunshine and from the free air, and whether they are worthy to be men among men.
It is for you to say whether they are to be taken from their homes, from their pursuits, from their wives, from their children. That responsibility rests upon you.
It is for you to say whether they shall be clothed in dishonor, whether they shall be clad in shame, whether their day of life shall set without a star in all the future's sky; that is for you.
It is for you to say whether Stephen W. Dorsey, John W. Dorsey, John R. Miner, Thomas J. Brady, and H. M. Vaile shall be branded as criminals.
It is for you to say, after they have suffered what they have, after they have been pursued by this Government as no defendants were ever pursued before, whether they shall be branded as criminals.
It is for you to say whether their homes shall be blasted and blackened by the lightning of a false verdict.
It is for you to say whether there shall be left to these defendants and to those they love, a future of agony, of grief and tears. Nothing beneath the stars of heaven is so profoundly sad as the wreck of a human being. Nothing is so profoundly mournful as a home that has been covered with shame—a wife that is worse than widowed—children worse than orphaned. Nothing in this world is so infinitely sad as a verdict that will cast a stain upon children yet unborn.