The defense began its arguments with a brief comment by Harvey Henderson, who reminded the jury that in order to convict, they must be “convinced beyond a reasonable doubt and moral certainty” that Milam and Bryant were guilty. Each man, he said, must make up his own mind, even if no one else agrees with him. The defense, he pointed out, did not have to prove anything. The burden of proof rested solely on the state.114
Sidney Carlton spoke next. He, too, was excited, and occasionally shouted, but his emotion never reached the level of Chatham’s. In refuting Chatham’s arguments, Carlton said that the prosecuting attorney “talked generalities because the facts just don’t bear out the guilt of these defendants. Where’s the motive? Where’s the motive?”115 Perhaps because the jury did not hear Carolyn Bryant’s testimony of the store incident that led to the murder, Carlton thought this was a question he could pose.
The state attorneys, Carlton insisted, were not able to link the defendants up with the victim. “The only testimony that Emmett Till did anything in connection with these defendants was Mose Wright’s testimony that he heard the boy had done something.” Had Wright known Till had gotten into trouble, Carlton argued, “he would have gotten him out and whipped him himself.”116 Again, Carlton took full advantage of Judge Swango’s ruling regarding Carolyn Bryant’s testimony.
Carlton reminded the jury that Wright said the house was so dark the night of the kidnapping that the only reason he believed Milam was there was because the man was “big and bald.” Bryant, on the other hand, identified himself, which, to Carlton, seemed suspect. “How many Mr. Bryants are there in the state of Mississippi?” he asked. “If any of you had gone to Mose Wright’s house with evil intent would you have given your name?” Carlton knew that is exactly what Bryant did, however. In a deposition taken from Bryant on September 6, Carlton learned that his client “did identify self as Mr. Bryant when he went in house. No light ever turned on in house. Both went inside house.”
Despite what Carlton actually knew, he wanted the jury to believe the idea that Bryant would provide his name was so absurd that there was “nothing reasonable about the state’s theory. If that’s identification, if that places these men at that scene, then none of us are safe.” Carlton remained silent of the fact that the jury knew that both the sheriff and deputy of Leflore County had received confessions from Milam and Bryant themselves that they had taken a boy from the Wright home. Clearly, Carlton hoped the jury had forgotten that.
Carlton also thought it too preposterous that Milam and Bryant would have abducted Till in Leflore County, gone west to Sunflower County, where state witnesses say Till was beaten in broad daylight, then “double back” to Tallahatchie County where they dumped the body in the river. As Carlton rejected Willie Reed’s testimony about the location of the alleged murder, he also found Reed’s story of a truckload of accomplices as simply too unbelievable. “We’ve got two men charged with murder, but he would have you believe seven are responsible.”117
The real weakness of the murder charges, Carlton insisted, was the failure of the state to prove the identity of the body. Three defense witnesses, including Sheriff Strider, testified that the body had been in the river too long to have been that of someone missing only three days. He pointed out that Dr. Otken was the only one with a medical background to examine the body, and that the embalmer, Harry D. Malone, was “unequivocal” that the corpse could not have been Till.118
Carlton also dismissed Mamie Bradley’s positive identification of the body she examined in Chicago. “Sometimes mothers believe what they want to believe. I’m sure Mamie Bradley thinks that body was her son, but scientific facts show otherwise. We think we could have rested our case when the State rested. The State didn’t prove anything.”119
Carlton closed his arguments by quoting a line from a Charles Dickens classic. It was the duty of the jury to acquit the defendants, he said, and if they fulfilled that duty, they would feel just like the character in A Tale of Two Cities, who said, “Tis a far, far better thing I do than ever I did before.” He did not mention the character by name, but astute observers such as Clark Porteous noted that it was Sidney Carton, whose name was almost identical to the attorney quoting him.120
Carlton sat down, after which J. W. Kellum addressed the jury. He read the indictments against Milam and Bryant that the grand jury handed down back on September 6, but pointed out that these were “no evidence whatsoever of their guilt.” He reminded the jury, as did Henderson, that the burden of proof of any wrongdoing lay with the state of Mississippi.121
Kellum, like Carlton before him, stressed the importance of Otken’s medical expertise. He also sought to embolden the jury by assuring them that they were the “peerage of democracy,” and “absolutely the custodians of American civilization.” Then, in a dramatic voice, he said: “I’ll be waiting for you when you come out. If your verdict is guilty, I want you to tell me where is the land of the free and the home of the brave. I say to you, gentlemen, your forefathers will absolutely roll over in their graves.”122
Kellum reminded the jury that special prosecutor Robert Smith, “a gentleman I don’t know,” would have the final argument, and that this was a powerful advantage. He then closed with a dramatic message that the jury’s verdict would have eternal consequences.
I want you to think of the future. When your summons comes to cross the Great Divide, and, as you enter your father’s house—a home not made by hands but eternal in the heavens, you can look back to where your father’s feet have trod and see your good record written in the sands of time and, when you go down to your lonely silent tomb to a sleep that knows no dreams, I want you to hold in the palm of your hand a record of service to God and your fellow man. And the only way you can do that is to turn these boys loose.123
Kellum sat down at 11:55, and Swango recessed court for a two-hour lunch. When proceedings resumed at 1:50 P.M., John Whitten concluded arguments for the defense.
Whitten presented a theory in line with Sheriff Strider’s that the “murder” of Emmett Till had been faked by the NAACP. The whole thing was concocted “by organizations who would like to destroy the southern way of life.”124
For any skeptics on the jury, or perhaps among the press, Whitten assured his listeners that this was “not as fantastic as it may seem,” and bolstered his theory by telling of an incident that had occurred thirty-five years earlier, when the bodies of three African Americans were retrieved from the Mississippi River at a time when the Ku Klux Klan had tried to revitalize itself. “A great hue and cry went up about the land. But investigation later proved that those three bodies had been embalmed before they were tossed in the river.”125
Whitten theorized how a similar plot could have been carried out in the Till case. For the sake of argument, he said, J. W. Milam and Roy Bryant did kidnap Emmett Till, but turned him loose three miles away at the store, as they claimed. Suppose Mose Wright got in his car and drove toward Money, finding the boy along the road as he walked home. Wright may have taken him to meet a friend involved with the NAACP, and this friend persuaded Wright to put Emmett Till’s ring on a “rotton, stinking corpse” that could later be found floating in the river. That body would then be identified by “simple people” as Emmett Till. Again, according to Whitten, this was very plausible:
There are people in the United States who want to defy the customs of the South . . . would commit perhaps any crime known to man in order to widen the gap. These people are not all in Gary and Chicago; they are in Jackson and Vicksburg; and, if Mose Wright knows one he didn’t have to go far to find him. And they include some of the most astute students of psychology known anywhere. They include doctors and undertakers and they have ready access to a corpse which could meet their purpose.126
Whitten avoided mentioning him by name, but the latter reference was to Dr. T. R. M. Howard, whose clinic in Mound Bayou could easily have provided a body.127 Then, in what is perhaps the most polarizing statement of the trial, W
hitten assured the jurors that “every last Anglo-Saxon one of you have the courage to free these men.”128
Mose Wright was not in the courtroom to hear Whitten name him as chief accomplice in an NAACP cover-up, but he must have heard about it. He was spotted in the sheriff’s office getting his witness fee after Whitten sat down. Someone asked the aging sharecropper if he was intent on leaving Mississippi.
“I don’t know,” replied Wright. “I got this country so scrounged down in me that I just don’t know.”
With that, observed Murray Kempton, “he walked out of the courtroom, a tiny old man in his galluses, and down the road across the bridge all alone and leaving Sumner rotting behind him.”129
The state had the last word when Robert Smith stood before the jury. He reviewed the case and addressed the issue of outside influences. Yes, there were people who were “trying to destroy our way of life,” he acknowledged. “But once we take the life, liberty or pursuit of happiness from anyone we will be put on the defensive and become vulnerable in trying to justify our stand.” These agitators actually wanted Milam and Bryant freed, he argued, because it would give them the momentum to raise funds for the next decade and a half. If the jury were to convict, on the other hand, “no one can use this to raise funds to fight us in our defense of southern traditions.” He reminded the jury that the body had been identified by Emmett Till’s mother and also by the ring found on one of its fingers.130
As for the defense theory that Mose Wright and Emmett Till helped stage a murder, Smith said it was “the most far-fetched argument I’ve ever heard in a courtroom.” Wright was, he said, “a good old country Negro and you know he’s not going to tell anybody a lie.” If the men had, in fact, released Till, “Where is he?” Smith also praised Willie Reed for having the courage to testify. “I don’t know but what Willie Reed has more nerve than I have.”131
With Smith’s conclusion, all attention turned to the jury. After listening to twenty-two witnesses over three days, it was now up to them to decide the fate of J. W. Milam and Roy Bryant. Judge Swango had only brief instructions to the men before excusing them, and also provided them a form upon which to write their verdict. He excused the alternate juror, Willie Havens, and at 2:34 P.M. the others filed into the jury room, and the large brown door, missing both its latch and lock, was closed shut behind them. No one else was allowed inside.132
Gerald Chatham, speaking privately to reporters, said he hoped the jury would be out for at least an hour. Sidney Carlton told Bryant, who seemed slightly nervous, to expect a deliberation of about twenty-five to forty-five minutes.133 The black press table took a poll among its members on how long it would take. James Hicks passed around a sheet of paper, and each wrote their names and their predictions. A tally put the range between thirty-five minutes and three hours. Till’s mother even got in on the poll, writing, “Mamie Bradley, 49 minutes.” Hicks kept the paper as a souvenir. In the end, photographer Ernest Withers won the poll, missing the actual time by only five minutes.134
Most of the spectators remained in the courtroom, probably because they expected a quick verdict also. A few, however, left Sumner altogether. Mamie Bradley and her companions, along with Representative Diggs, quietly slipped out the door, downstairs, and into Dr. T. R. M. Howard’s Cadillac, where chauffer Ed Ramsey was waiting to drive them back to Mound Bayou.135 Bradley decided to leave after a reporter asked what she intended to do after the acquittal. This convinced her “that it was sewed up from the day it started.” She next turned to Diggs.
“I would like for us to leave now.”
Diggs was shocked and asked, “What, and miss the verdict?”
Bradley was adamant. “This is one you will want to miss. The verdict is ‘not guilty.’”
The others looked at Bradley as though she had lost her mind. However, they appeased her, and the group returned to Mound Bayou.136
The Milams and Bryants remained in their seats most of the time the jury was out. Now and then they got up, went to the judge’s bench, helped themselves to ice water from his pitcher, and even conversed with him. Friends occasionally came by to talk. The half-brothers were given stacks of pictures that various photographers had taken over the course of the trial. Milam and Bryant, in turn, passed them around to other family members. Spectators gathered in small groups while reporters were busy downstairs calling their respective newspapers. Some even kept the lines open while the jury deliberated to be sure to report the verdict immediately.137
Standing had become common in the courtroom on Friday, even before the jury had begun deliberating. Swango refused to allow overcrowding after Tuesday’s recess, and Sheriff Strider said that every available chair was inside the courtroom. Yet for some reason, there were still not enough. Reporters found that when they returned after lunch, recesses, or calling in a story, their chairs went missing. Some finally began taping their names to their seats, while others simply gave up. Circuit Court Clerk Charlie Cox finally sat on a stack of law books, while others sat on the floor. Photographer Gene Herrick sat on the steps of the judge’s bench. A local drugstore, aware of the problem, found a way to capitalize on the situation by putting its supply of folding canvas chairs on sale for $2 each.138
Eight minutes into their deliberations, the men of the jury grew thirsty and asked for some Cokes. Strider passed the bottles into the room, one by one. No one, not even the four bailiffs guarding the jury, was allowed inside. The courtroom remained noisy, and Judge Swango reminded everyone that they must maintain order once the jury returned with its verdict. Thirty minutes later, the door to the jury room blew open, and spectators instantly fell quiet. After a bailiff quickly shut the door, however, the crowd realized it was a false alarm, and people continued as they were. At some point, the jury asked for more Cokes.139
Bill Minor, a reporter for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, sat near the jury room and was disturbed to hear laughter from inside. Finally, at 3:42, a knock came from inside the room. Again, the courtroom fell silent. One hour and seven minutes after beginning deliberations, the jury had reached a verdict. By now, the rain had stopped, and the sun shone brightly through a dark overcast.140
Judge Swango spoke to the crowd. “Let the courtroom be in order. The courtroom will remain in order when this jury comes in and makes its report. There will be no demonstration and no pictures will be taken. Court is in session.”141
The twelve men looked somber as they entered the room and took their seats. They were all in their chairs by 3:44, when Swango turned and addressed them formally.
“Have you gentlemen reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Sir, we have,” replied James Shaw, the jury foreman.
Swango then turned to Charlie Cox. “Mr. Clerk, will you read the verdict?”
Shaw handed it to Cox, who then read the jury’s decision. Two words scratched upon a yellow piece of paper in a rural southern courtroom were about to echo all over the world.
“Not Guilty.”142
A black woman in the rear of the room immediately shouted out, “Oh, no.” Many assumed this was Mamie Bradley, but she was not present. A white woman had a similar reaction. At the same instant, reporters began running down the stairs to get back to the phones and report the verdict. Buzzing in the room stopped immediately after Judge Swango stared into the crowd and gave a stern look of disapproval.143
Swango then turned to the jury and explained that the manner in which they wrote out the verdict was technically incorrect. “You had a form to be used for that. But this is not a complete verdict.” He gave them a new form and had them go back into the jury room to write out their decision the way they had been instructed. Shaw later said that he had put the correct form in his pocket by mistake.144
This was only a formality, however. For the emotional crowd in the courtroom, the various feelings of jubilation, disappointment, or shock had already set in, and nothing else the jury had to say would change that. Yet the courtroom remained orderly, and spectator
s kept quiet while they waited for the jury to return. Milam and Bryant sat smoking cigars. Clark Porteous noted that they did not change their expression at all after the first verdict was announced, although reporter James Gunter said that both men smiled. The only one to congratulate them after the jury went back into the deliberation room was Sidney Carlton, who shook hands heartily with Milam.145
A few minutes later, the jury returned. Neither Gerald Chatham nor Robert Smith had been in the room when Cox read the first verdict, so Swango had Sheriff Strider bring them in. After they took their seats, Swango turned to the jury.
“Have you gentlemen reached a complete verdict now? Has your verdict been made in accordance with the form that was given you?”
“Yes, Sir,” stated the foreman.
“Will you give the verdict to the clerk, please, Mr. Shaw.”
Charlie Cox then made it official. “We, the jury, find the defendants: Not Guilty.”146
This ended one of the most sensational trials ever held in the South. As the verdict began making its way around the world, Swango announced Chatham’s request to drop the kidnap charges as far as Tallahatchie County was concerned (those would now fall under the jurisdiction of Leflore County, where the kidnapping took place). The court had some minor business to attend to, but Swango thanked the jurors and informed them that their pay warrants awaited them downstairs. No one was allowed to leave the courtroom until after the jury filed out. Once they did, Swango adjourned the court.147
Photographers immediately crowded around Milam and Bryant, snapping pictures as they kissed their wives in celebration. Some climbed on chairs and tables to work around or over each other. Gene Herrick shot a few photos before quickly giving the film to his partner with the Associated Press, who transmitted them over the wire. Milam joked with reporters about “getting a wig” because of all the references made during testimony about a tall bald man. Reporters also began asking for statements.
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