What was his crime? What had he done to merit this blackguard’s murderous wrath? Not a thing. The boy had never uttered a cross word in his life. And yet, this man, this depraved villain, took a heavy paving stone and crashed it into the boy’s skull. Where a moment earlier his happy face had been dotted with freckles, that same face, now frozen into a death mask, was flecked with his blood. And with bits of his brain.”
I swallowed hard. The crowd was in an uproar. Several men stood and gestured angrily at Patterson, calling out, “String him up!” or “Let him swing!” A number of women looked faint. Next to Martha, Jane trembled. At least three husbands ordered their wives to leave the courtroom immediately. From their row of chairs in the corner of the well, the jurors watched the upheaval closely. Not one of them looked toward Lincoln or Patterson.
On the bench, Judge Thomas pounded his gavel angrily. Matheny hollered for order. Sheriff Hutchason, who had been standing near to the counsel table where Lincoln and Patterson sat, prowled along the railing, threatening to arrest anyone who was standing and shouting. After several cacophonous minutes, Prickett was finally able to resume.
“I now come to the third murder, the one perhaps most chilling of all because the defendant Patterson executed it with his bare hands. Having killed with weapons, he now decided he could not let any implement come between himself and his victim. His lust for death requires his skin to touch the victim’s. His hands must encircle the victim’s neck and wring the life from it.”
There was another outburst from the crowd, which the judge silenced immediately with a shaking fist. I felt a deep pit growing in my stomach.
“The Widow Harriman was a well-known presence in this county. She was a hardworking woman, a decent woman, who’d persevered after her husband’s untimely death. She was part of the soil, the bedrock, of our community. In an act of Christian charity that brings glory to her and to our whole community, she had opened her arms, her home, to bring Lilly and Jesse in from the storm.”
Listening to Prickett’s apparently heartfelt tribute, I could not help but think of his very different words about Rebecca that I had overheard in the sheriff’s backyard. At the same time, I could hardly begrudge the prosecutor for giving Rebecca in death the public praise she’d so fully deserved in life.
“The evidence will show the Widow Harriman had figured out the defendant Patterson was the evil doer who’d struck down her wards. That she had travelled here, to Springfield, to confront him with her knowledge and they had quarreled about her accusation. That, tragically, before she could tell anyone else about her findings, he followed her back to her home and wrung the life out of her pious body.”
Prickett moved to stand directly in front of the row of jurors, his back now turned toward the gallery. Even from this angle, his self-righteous posture gave him a commanding look.
“You may be wondering,” Prickett continued, “why the three victims allowed Patterson to get close enough to inflict his fatal wounds. Why did they not fight back? Why did they not flee?
“There are two reasons, we will prove, both chilling and both sinister. Patterson was, in each case, a doctor to the victims. They knew him well and they trusted him. If a medical man who has treated you approaches and asks a question, surely it is natural you will listen. Surely your first thought is not flight or fear. You gentlemen of the jury may wish to consider how many of your wives have also been treated by the defendant Patterson. How close may your wife have come to the same unspeakable fate at the hands of this scoundrel?”
Lincoln jumped to his feet and called out, “Objection, Your Honor. My brother counsel should not be able to argue—”
“Overruled,” Judge Thomas said without turning to look at Lincoln. The judge was reclined back in his chair, which was orientated toward the spot where Prickett stood, and puffing vigorously on his cigar.
Prickett nodded toward the judge and continued: “The second reason they did not flee is the defendant Patterson gave them, in each case, a foul potion rendering them helpless. Unable to protect themselves. Indeed, unable to move at all as he inflicted the fatal wounds.
“The evidence will be that Patterson often boasted about his special, powerful liquors. That he went so far