‘Mrs Dean was to receive ten pounds on June first from persons in Christchurch. She counted on getting the money on that date, and what other object had she in disposing of the child than to get rid of the expense of maintaining it?’ He shakes his head. ‘Not only is that so, but she would be naturally anxious to get rid of it as soon as possible, because if it was found that she had children in her home under the age of two years she would be liable to a penalty under the Infant Life Protection Act.
‘The paltry motive which the case suggests —’ he regards the jury gravely — ‘was simply the loss of money and the time and trouble in looking after the child from the time she got it. It is your duty to find the prisoner guilty of murder.’
Is it?
I do not hear witnesses speak. I cannot focus.
What if she is innocent?
Justice Williams addresses counsel, and I am struck by the manner of his speech — courteous towards the prosecution, curt and clipped towards the defence. ‘We have before us the unresolved question of admissibility of evidence relating to the death of Eva Hornsby,’ he says, ‘with the object of showing that the death of Dorothy Edith Carter was not accidental. What say you, Mr Hanlon?’
‘I wish, if possible, to bring myself within sections 412 and 413 of the Criminal Code. Under those sections I would ask that the question as to admissibility of this evidence should be reserved. From the depositions we can only form some idea of what the evidence to be adduced will be and cannot possibly form a complete idea as to the admissibility or otherwise.’
Justice Williams turns to Mr MacDonald. ‘I don’t want to trouble you. It is certainly relevant to the present enquiry that the jury should know everything done by Mrs Dean between the time she left The Larches with the child on Thursday, until the time she returned to The Larches on Saturday with the child. Everything she did and said during that time is res gestae. If the evidence of what she did and said between Lumsden and Clinton on the Friday is admissible, then there can be no reasonable doubt for excluding anything she did or said between the time she left Clinton for Milburn and the time she returned to Clinton. I certainly should not feel it my duty to reserve the point. I must, however, in fairness to the prisoner in a capital case, take a note of the objection in order that the Attorney General might be moved under section 413 if counsel were advised that it is so desirable. I hesitate therefore to say that the objection is frivolous, but it appears to me to have no solid foundation. I think my duty will be to refuse to reserve the question and to take a note of the objection.’
‘I am Jane Hornsby.’ Her voice is crisp like an icy pond. ‘I am the wife of John Hornsby of Kaikorai.’
‘Mrs Hornsby,’ Mr Hanlon says. ‘As a grandmother seeking someone to raise her granddaughter, what enquiries did you make about Mrs Dean before giving the baby over to her?’
Mrs Hornsby’s top lip curls. ‘I made none.’
‘None? None at all? Yet, when you took the child away from its nurse Mrs Bennett, you told her that a lady was going to adopt it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet you never thought to enquire into that woman.’
‘I never thought to get the child adopted till I saw an advertisement in the paper.’
Mr Hanlon lifts his eyebrows. ‘May I remind you, you are under oath?’
Mrs Hornsby colours slightly.
‘What else did you give to Mrs Dean?’
‘I gave her a bottle of milk with it.’
‘A bottle of milk. A bottle of milk,’ he says, ‘with it.’ He pauses and glances at his notes. ‘It has been suggested that Mrs Dean’s movements at this time were evasive. But was it not you who suggested to Mrs Dean to go back to Clarendon with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How was it that you recognised the body of one of the children at the morgue as that of Eva Hornsby?’
‘By the colour of its hair and the shape of its head.’
‘So the shape of its head was peculiar to Eva Hornsby? How so? Can you explain further?’
Mrs Hornsby swallows and bites her lip. ‘No. I cannot.’
‘I see. Was Eva Hornsby always in good health?’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘Did you notice any marks on her before you gave her away?’
‘No.’
‘Yet there were some.’
Mrs Hornsby lifts her chin. ‘Mrs Bennett drew my attention to some marks on the child while I was in the morgue.’
Mr Hanlon nods. ‘Thank you, Mrs Hornsby. I have finished for now.’
The day draws on with witness reports of seeing Mrs Dean, of not seeing Mrs Dean, of her having a child, of her not having a child. I am relieved to hear the doctors will be the last witnesses of the day to be called.
The Court orders Doctor Macleod to the stand.
‘How could the mark under the scalp of the head have been made?’ Mr Hanlon asks.
‘It might have been made by pressing the finger and thumb at the back of the head.’
‘Could it have been done by putting the hand over the mouth and then pressing the finger and thumb?’
‘No, I think not. The distance to the place where the mark is, is too great.’
‘Was there any sign of an ejectment from the stomach prior to death?’
‘No.’
‘Could you say that the child might have died of suffocation by vomiting?’
‘No. The windpipe was quite clean.’
‘But it is well known to be difficult to know death by suffocation by internal means alone, is it not?’
Doctor Macleod narrows his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he says.
‘One last question, Doctor, if I may. Were the children you examined well nourished?’
Doctor Macleod looks down the bridge of his nose at Mr Hanlon. ‘The larger child appeared to be. Its stomach contained a considerable quantity of half-digested food.’
Doctor Black takes the witness stand. Mr Hanlon asks him the same question.
‘I found inside the stomach of the larger child there were large lumps of undigested food — lumps of carrots, and beef that looked like corned beef or beef used for Irish stew.’
‘Did this surprise you?’ Mr MacDonald asks.
‘I was astonished to find such lumps in the stomach of a baby. The child must have been very hungry to have taken the food, which looked as if it had been bolted.’
‘And the smaller child? What were your findings?’
Doctor Black shakes his head. ‘The complete opposite. The stomach was virtually empty. In fact, I can say I have never seen intestines so empty before.’
Mrs Dean paces up and down her cell.
‘Why didn’t you ask her about the milk?’ she says. ‘I told you about the milk. It was icy cold. Icy! Who would give a tiny baby away with only icy cold milk to feed it, I ask you?’
Mr Hanlon catches my eye but does not respond.
‘She knew we had a long journey before us. Why did you not question her about that?’
‘Calm down, Mrs Dean,’ Mr Hanan says.
‘And its stomach,’ she says. ‘Empty. Completely empty. The most empty intestines the man had ever seen. And she had the baby the entire day. Her own granddaughter. Why did you not ask her about that?’
‘Mrs Hornsby is not the one on trial.’
Mrs Dean stops abruptly. ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’
I hold out a chair. It is probably a futile gesture given her current rage, but I fear if Mrs Dean does not calm herself she may do or say something she will later regret. ‘Mrs Dean, sit and calm yourself.’
‘I want to testify,’ she says, without acknowledging me or the proffered seat.
Mr Hanan and Mr Hanlon exchange glances.
‘I do not think that would be wise,’ Mr Hanlon says. ‘If you speak upon one child then you will need to respond to questions regarding the other children.’
‘I understand that, Mr Hanlon.’
‘You will need to account for all the missing ch
ildren.’
‘If I can only have the chance to explain, then surely the jury will see that I am not an evil woman.’
‘Mrs Dean, they will question you on Eva Hornsby.’
‘And I will answer them the same as I have answered you.’
Mr Hanlon looks away. ‘They will ask you to explain the third child.’
‘And I will, I have told you that.’
‘Mrs Dean,’ he continues, his voice growing agitated, ‘they will ask you also to explain the other missing children. Henry, Cyril, all of them. Can you answer those questions?’
Her lips tighten and she turns away.
‘What will you answer when asked as to their whereabouts?’
‘Australia.’
‘Where in Australia?’
‘I will give them an address.’
‘They will find out if you are lying.’
‘Not until it’s too late.’
‘Mrs Dean.’ It is clear he has lost all patience. ‘They can wire Australia and verify your story. And it will be the worse for you if it is found false.’
She does not respond.
‘Mrs Dean, please, I beseech you. If you could prove where one, just one of those children is now living, it would go a long way to helping our situation.’
‘No.’
‘Why, Mrs Dean? Why?’
‘They are in Australia.’
‘Then tell us where.’
But she sits in silence and picks at the cloth of her dress.
‘Mrs Dean!’ Hanlon shouts. Then he turns away with a ‘Hmph!’ and throws up his arms.
Mr Hanan tries another tack. ‘We can either put you on the stand,’ he says, ‘or we can present a closing argument. Legally, we cannot do both. For my mind, under the circumstances, I think we should do the latter.’
‘And I agree,’ Mr Hanlon says through clenched teeth.
Mrs Dean still says nothing. She seems fixated by a bird on the window ledge. It hops about the bars and tilts its head to stare at us, caged like animals, then lifts its wings to fly away.
‘Good. It is decided.’
‘Men of the jury,’ Mr Hanlon says. ‘The duty you are called upon now to perform is the most solemn and important that you will probably ever be called upon to perform in your lives.
‘It might be that many of the facts are consistent with the theory that the prisoner be found guilty of murder. But I submit with all confidence, and I will endeavour to prove it to you, that those facts are not only consistent with guilt, but are also consistent with another theory.
‘My learned friend has said that murder might be defined, for the purpose of the present charge, as unlawfully and intentionally taking a life of a human being. Has my learned friend proved that?’ He shakes his head. ‘I submit that he has not proven that Mrs Dean killed the child intentionally.
‘What evidence has been adduced to show that she premeditated killing the child, and actually did kill it?’ He shakes his head again.
‘In approaching a consideration of this case it is necessary in the first place to bear in mind this fact: that Mrs Dean was continually getting children to nurse. It is in evidence, and it was clearly proved, that children came and went from The Larches. And it must be borne in mind that where a person carries on a business of that sort with regard to children, it is necessary that the business be conducted with secrecy.
‘The jury saw, for instance, that Mrs Hornsby did not want her identity to be known, because she signed herself “A. B. C.” when replying to an advertisement inserted in the paper by Mrs Dean, and she did not give her own address, showing that she did not want Mrs Dean knowing her identity. What does that show?’ He narrows his eyes. ‘It shows clearly this: that where an unfortunate girl perhaps has an illegitimate child, that it is outlawed, so to speak, by our present social customs, and the poor unfortunate girl has to hide her shame, as the outside world would look aghast at her because she has fallen, and the child has to be put out of the road — put away, so that its mother might be able to hold up her head again.’ He shakes his head and casts his eyes downwards. ‘That shows the rottenness of society when that can happen over and over again.
‘You have heard of poor unfortunate girls who have made the one mistake of their life, and the little child is sent away, no matter where, as long as it is got rid of somehow. That is what has happened in the present case, and that shows how absolutely essential it is that a woman who is receiving these illegitimate children should keep secret from people who go to enquire the names of the parents of those unfortunate children.
‘Can you blame a woman then who told a lie?’ He stops and looks at the jury. ‘And Mrs Dean has told lies. I do not deny she has told many lies. But there was ample reason for it.’ He looks at Mrs Dean. ‘She had to shelter the fathers and mothers of those unfortunate children.
‘It has been proved that Mrs Dean did not register the house when she had a child in her possession under two years of age. She has been punished for that, but she did not get the house registered then. And why?’ Mr Hanlon looks about the courthouse. ‘Does it not strike you at once that she did not get it registered for the very reason that she did not want the police to make enquiries, and so give occasion to the fathers and mothers to complain?
‘And so after she was fined, from that time forth she never gave the police any information at all. Can you blame her?
‘I submit that you cannot do so, for she had pledged herself to secrecy in regard to the children, and she never divulged anything about the parents afterwards.
‘Coming now to the disappearance of Dorothy Edith Carter. You have it in evidence that Mrs Dean was anxious to adopt that child.’ He lifts his shoulders theatrically. ‘Perhaps that is not true. Certain correspondence passed between her and Mrs Izett, the outcome of which was that Mrs Dean received the child from Mrs Cox at the Bluff.
‘The Crown asks the jury to believe that at the time she premeditated murdering the child. It was suggested by my learned friend that her purchase of the laudanum at the Bluff shows at once that she intended to murder the child. But it does not show anything of the kind.’
He shakes his head and gestures with his arm towards Mrs Dean.
‘The woman had laudanum in the house. The reason she bought laudanum at all might have been to replenish the bottle she had at home. The jury has been told that Mrs Dean uses laudanum diluted for her eye. Does that not make the purchase of laudanum perfectly necessary?’ He looks at the jury.
‘Not a word has been said about the bottle that contained the laudanum purchased at the Bluff. The police have not found that bottle at all. But they found another bottle containing laudanum and water. I therefore submit that the mere purchasing of laudanum at the Bluff means nothing more than it might be consistent with the theory that she intended to murder the child.
‘Now, if the purchase of the laudanum at the Bluff is consistent with an innocent theory as well as another theory, then you are bound to adopt the innocent theory.’
He stops and turns to his notes.
Murmurs bounce from wall to wall — He’s right; he’s a fool; she did it; she’s innocent — I wonder how many of those here today have stopped to question their own hearts, for surely they realise that it is God alone who should cast judgment.
‘Mrs Dean went up from the Bluff to Invercargill,’ Mr Hanlon continues and looks again to the jury. ‘She had laudanum in her pocket and a baby in her possession. Only two people at the Bluff knew of her having the baby besides Mrs Cox, who went back to Christchurch. You were told that at the time she bought the laudanum she had it in her mind to murder that little child. Why did she not do it, I ask you, when she had the means wherewith to do it and had the child in her possession?’
Mr Hanlon looks at each jury member in turn.
‘Only two people up to that time had seen her, yet she went up the line from the Bluff to Invercargill with the child in her possession and the laudanum in her pocket, and with the de
liberate intention, as my learned friend would have you believe, of murdering the child.
‘Then why did she not do it? How can you account for that? Why did she want to bring that child home to Winton? Could she not have administered the laudanum on the road and thrown the dead body in the river, or somewhere else?
‘It was perfectly possible for her to do that, easy for her to do that in fact. But she did not.’ He shakes his head.
‘Then she went to Invercargill, where people who had known her would probably see her. She then went on to Winton. My learned friend has asked why did she get out at Gap Road instead of going straight on to Winton by train, and said the reason was that she did not want the police to see she had any young child.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘I do not deny for one moment that that was the reason. She did not want the police to know everything that was going on, because if they knew, she would be brought up for not having the child registered — and as she was only going to keep it for a few days, where was the necessity for registering the house?’
He pauses again, as if to make sure the jury is following his every word and in no doubt of his meaning.
‘My learned friend said Mrs Dean made a confidante of Esther Wallis, but people make confidants of anyone when they are not going to commit a murder. Why did she ever let Esther Wallis see the baby at all, if she wanted to dispose of it? Do you think that she premeditated murder, and was going to keep the child in her possession till they all knew of it, and then murder it?’ He stops and shakes his head. ‘The theory that she intended to murder the child is absolutely absurd in the face of what has been proved.
‘Then Mrs Dean met Esther Wallis at the Gap Road and at this time, when it is alleged that she intended to murder the baby, she took the cloak off her own back and wrapped it round the little infant. Esther Wallis said, “You will catch cold.” And Mrs Dean replied, “Oh, never mind.”
The Day She Cradled Me Page 26