His Bloody Project

by Graeme Macrae Burnet

  ‘But there was no particular reason for that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you were on intimate terms with the prisoner’s mother?’

  ‘Yes. We were very close.’

  ‘And her death occurred when?’

  ‘In the spring of last year.’

  ‘This must have been a quite traumatic event.’

  ‘It was a terrible thing.’

  ‘For you?’

  ‘For me, and for her children.’

  ‘How would describe the effect of her death on her children?

  ‘They were quite changed.’

  ‘How so?

  ‘Jetta –’

  ‘The prisoner’s sister?’

  ‘Yes. She became morose and terribly concerned with charms and otherworldly things.’

  ‘Superstitious things?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the prisoner?’

  ‘He seemed to withdraw into himself.’

  ‘Could you explain what you mean?’

  Mrs Murchison looked towards the bench, as if for some assistance. The Lord Justice-Clerk indicated with a gesture of his hand that she should continue.

  ‘I am not sure I can properly explain it,’ she said. ‘Only that perhaps Roddy sometimes seemed quite separate from the world.’

  ‘“Quite separate from the world”,’ Mr Sinclair repeated meaningfully. ‘And this change,’ he went on, ‘took place after his mother’s death?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘Did you ever observe in the prisoner any signs of insanity?’

  ‘I do not know if it is a sign of insanity, but I now and again saw him talking to himself.’

  ‘In what manner?’

  ‘Quite as if he was in conversation with himself or with an unseen person.’

  ‘When did you see this?’

  ‘Often, when he was working on the croft or walking through the village.’

  ‘And what was the substance of these conversations?’

  ‘I could not say. If you drew near, he would cease.’

  ‘Did you ever hear him raving or behaving as if under some delusion?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you ever hear of him being restrained because he was a danger to himself or to others?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You did not feel that he was a dangerous character?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He was not thought in the village to be a dangerous character?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘So it was a surprise to you when he carried out the acts which have brought us to this court-room today?’

  ‘Oh mercy, yes, a terrible shock,’ replied Mrs Murchison.

  ‘So these acts were quite out of character?’

  ‘I would say so, yes.’

  Mr Sinclair then thanked the witness and concluded his questioning. Before Carmina Smoke could step down, the Solicitor-General rose for a second time.

  ‘If I might clarify one point,’ he began, ‘on the morning of the murders, did you see the prisoner engaged in this mumbling to himself?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘And when you conversed with him did he seem quite rational?’

  ‘Perfectly rational, yes.’

  ‘He did not – and this is a point of utmost importance – appear alienated from his reason?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘It is not, if you will forgive me, a matter of “belief”, Mrs Murchison. Either he did or he didn’t.’

  At this the Lord Justice-Clerk intervened, stating that the witness had answered the question in a satisfactory manner and it was not for the Crown to badger witnesses into providing the responses he desired. Mr Gifford begged the judge’s pardon and Mrs Murchison was excused, ‘with the gentlemen of the jury,’ Mr Philby noted, ‘closely observing her exit.’

  The next witness to be called was Kenny Smoke. Led by Mr Gifford, Mr Murchison described the events of the morning of the 10th of August. He confirmed that the prisoner had been quite calm, had openly admitted to his deeds and had offered neither resistance nor made any attempt to flee.

  Mr Gifford then asked him to describe the scene he had discovered in the home of Lachlan Mackenzie. At this point, according to Mr Murdoch, the court-room assumed a most sombre atmosphere: ‘Mr Murchison, a most vigorous and hearty fellow, visibly struggled to describe the horrors to which he had been witness, and he is to be commended for the sober account with which he was able to provide the court.’

  ‘Lachlan Mackenzie’s body,’ Mr Murchison testified, ‘was face down on the floor somewhat to the left of the door. The back of his head was entirely shattered and pieces of skull had been strewn some distance from the body. His brains had spilled out to the side of his head. His face lay in a great pool of blood. I lifted his wrist to see if there was a pulse, but there was none.’

  Mr Gifford: ‘Was the body warm?’

  ‘Quite warm, yes.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I stood up and then saw the boy lying on the floor between the door and the window. I went to him. I did not see any signs of injury, but he was dead.’

  ‘The body was warm?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I saw the body of Flora Mackenzie laid out on the table.’

  ‘You say, “laid out”. Was it your impression that the body had been placed there quite purposefully?’

  ‘It did not appear that she had fallen there.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  Mr Murchison here hesitated for some moments. ‘It was not a natural posture. Her feet did not reach the ground and I thought that she must have been lifted onto the table.’

  ‘Please describe, if you can, what you saw.’

  ‘There was a great deal of blood. Her skirts had been lifted up and the private parts had been mutilated. I examined her for signs of life, but she was quite dead. It was then that I noticed that the back of her head had been opened up. I pulled down her skirts to cover her decency.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I went to the door, thinking to prevent anyone else from entering.’

  Mr Murchison then described the arrangements made to remove the bodies to the outbuilding and how in the process of this, Catherine Mackenzie, the mother of the deceased, had been discovered in the gloom at the back of the room. She was taken to the Murchisons’ house, ‘quite gone in the head’, and attended by his wife.

  Mr Gifford then moved onto the motives for the murders. Kenneth Murchison described the meeting at which the compensation for the killing of Lachlan Mackenzie’s sheep had been decided.

  Mr Gifford: ‘And this was in the amount of thirty-five shillings?’

  Mr Murchison: ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why was this sum settled on?’

  ‘It was the price that the animal would have fetched at market.’

  ‘And was it the deceased, Mr Mackenzie, who demanded this sum?’

  ‘The sum was proposed by Calum Finlayson, who was at that time serving as constable for our villages.’

  ‘Did Mr Mackenzie agree to this sum?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘And Mr Macrae, the prisoner’s father, also agreed to this sum?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did Mr Mackenzie demand that this sum be paid immediately?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What arrangements were made for the payment of this compensation?’

  ‘It was agreed that the sum would be paid at a rate of one shilling per week.’

  ‘This out of consideration for the straitened financial situation of the Macrae family?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did Mr Macrae fulfil his obligations with
regard to these payments?’

  ‘I believe he attempted to do so, but it may be that they were not made regularly.’

  The Lord Justice-Clerk: ‘Do you know if the payments were made or not?’

  ‘I do not know, but I know that Mr Macrae did not have a great deal of income and that the payments would have been quite burdensome.’

  Mr Gifford continued: ‘But the arrangement was reached amicably?’

  ‘I would not call it amicable.’

  ‘But you have stated that both Mr Macrae and Mr Mackenzie accepted the proposal of the constable.’

  ‘It was accepted, yes, but Lachlan Broad made it clear that he was not satisfied.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘He thought that there should be some additional punishment of the boy.’

  ‘The “boy” being the prisoner here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did he propose what this punishment should consist of?’

  ‘I cannot recall, but he made it clear that he would like to see the boy punished.’

  ‘Even although the compensation agreed upon was acceptable to both sides?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mr Gifford here paused and raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, but the witness did not add anything.

  ‘Would it be fair to say that Mr Mackenzie and Mr Macrae were not the best of friends?’

  ‘It would be fair.’

  ‘And this enmity between them, if I can put it in such a way, pre-dated this incident with the sheep?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So how did this enmity arise?’

  Mr Murchison held out his hands. ‘I cannot say.’ He puffed out his cheeks and let forth a ‘baffled sigh’. ‘Mr Macrae lived at his end of the village and Mr Mackenzie lived at his.’

  Mr Gifford appeared content not to labour this point. ‘Nevertheless, an agreement was reached which left Mr Macrae indebted to Mr Mackenzie?’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  Mr Gifford then led the witness through the process of Lachlan Broad’s election to the position of village constable.

  Mr Gifford: ‘Would it be fair to say that this role in your community was not a popular one?’

  Mr Murchison: ‘In what sense?’

  ‘In the sense that it was not a position which members of your community sought out?’

  ‘I would say so, yes.’

  ‘Then you must have been pleased that Mr Mackenzie took it upon himself to shoulder this burden?’

  Mr Murchison made no reply.

  Mr Gifford: ‘You were not pleased?’

  ‘I was neither pleased nor not pleased.’

  ‘But is it not true that you and some other members of your community made great efforts to find an alternative candidate to oppose Mr Mackenzie?’

  ‘Some effort was made.’

  ‘Why did you feel the need to do that?’

  ‘It did not seem right that Mr Mackenzie should be elected unopposed.’

  ‘That was the only reason?’

  Kenny Smoke hesitated for a few moments, before responding, ‘There was a perception that Mr Mackenzie might use his powers to advance his own interests.’

  ‘You mean, the powers inherent in the role of village constable?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did he do so?’

  ‘To some extent.’

  ‘To what extent?’

  ‘He enjoyed wielding power over the community.’

  ‘Can you be more specific?’

  ‘He instituted a scheme of works whereby the men of the community were obliged to give their labour for a certain number of days.’

  ‘And what was the purpose of this scheme of works?’

  ‘General improvements to the roads and drainage around the villages.’

  ‘Were these schemes, as you put it, in advance of his own interests?’

  ‘Not specifically.’

  ‘Not specifically?’

  Mr Murchison made no reply to this.

  Mr Gifford continued: ‘Were these improvements to the benefit of the community in general?’

  ‘They were of benefit, yes.’

  ‘So Mr Mackenzie instituted a scheme of improvements beneficial to the community and the men of the community contributed their labour towards this scheme?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And this you describe as being in advance of Mr Mackenzie’s own interests!’ Mr Gifford at this point directed an expression of bewilderment towards the jury.

  ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘if I can turn to another incident, would it be true to say that arable land is in short supply in your village?’

  ‘It is not plentiful.’

  ‘And how is the land allocated?’

  ‘Each family has their rig.’

  ‘“Each family has their rig”,’ he repeated. ‘The rig being their portion of the available land?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And is this land allocated on a yearly basis, for five years, or for how long?’

  ‘In practice, each household farms the land which lies between their house and the Toscaig road.’

  ‘That portion being regarded, to all intents and purposes, as their land?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, in effect, each strip of land belonged to the property to which it was adjacent?’

  ‘In effect, yes.’

  ‘Without regards to the population or make-up of the household?’

  ‘Generally, yes.’

  ‘Shortly after Mr Mackenzie’s election to the position of village constable some of the arable land in Culduie was re-allocated, was it not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could you describe that re-allocation?’

  ‘A portion of Mr Macrae’s land was given to his neighbour, Mr Gregor.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘As there were more people in Mr Gregor’s household than in Mr Macrae’s, it was decreed that they required more land.’

  ‘I see. And how many people were in Mr Macrae’s household?’

  ‘Five, including the two infants.’

  ‘That would be Mr Macrae himself, the prisoner, his daughter and the two younger children, aged three years?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And in Mr Gregor’s household?’

  ‘Eight.’

  ‘And how was that household constituted?’

  ‘Mr Gregor and his wife, Mr Gregor’s mother and their five children.’

  ‘So their need for land was greater than that of the Macrae household?’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘Did Mr Mackenzie personally benefit from this distribution of land?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, it was quite fair to re-distribute this land in accordance with the greater need of the Gregor household?’

  ‘You could say that it was fair.’

  ‘I am asking if you would say it was fair, Mr Murchison.’

  Before answering Mr Murchison drew his hand across his moustaches and surveyed the court-room.

  ‘It was not right,’ he said.

  ‘But you have stated that the Gregor family’s need for land was greater than that of the Macraes.’

  ‘It might have been fair in law,’ said Mr Murchison, clearly by now becoming aggravated, ‘but it was not done. Crofts are not divided up in this way. Each family works their portion of land and it passes from one generation to the next.’

  ‘I see. So Mr Mackenzie’s action was unprecedented?’

  ‘It was vindictive.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Mr Gifford, as if he had finally succeeded in reaching the nub of the matter. ‘“Vindictive” is a strong word, Mr Murchison. So rather than using his powers for the general good, Mr Mackenzie was p
erceived to be pursuing some kind of vendetta against Mr Macrae?’

  ‘Correct.’

  Mr Gifford directed a meaningful look to the jury, then thanked the witness and concluded his questioning. The Scotsman noted that Mr Murchison ‘seemed a fine fellow, but his baffling adherence to the idea that land should be allocated on the basis of tradition rather than utility was yet another example of how the intransigence of the Highland tribes is bringing about their own demise’.

  Mr Sinclair then rose for the defence.

  ‘For how long have you known the prisoner?’

  Mr Murchison: ‘All his life.’

  ‘And how would you characterise your relationship with him?’

  ‘I like him well enough.’

  ‘Would you describe him as feeble-minded?’

  ‘Feeble-minded? No.’

  ‘Then how would you describe him?’

  Mr Murchison puffed out his cheeks and looked towards Roddy, who looked back at him with a faint smile.

  ‘Well, there’s no doubting he’s got a brain in his head. He’s a clever lad, but –’

  ‘Yes, Mr Murchison?’

  The witness cast his eyes towards the ceiling as if searching for the right words. He shook his head and then said, ‘He’s daft.’

  ‘“Daft”?’ repeated Mr Sinclair. ‘Could you explain what you mean?’

  Again Mr Murchison seemed to struggle to express himself. ‘He sometimes seemed like he was in a world of his own. He was always a solitary boy. I never saw him playing with other children. He could be sitting amongst folk, but, for all the world, it was like there was nobody else there. You never knew what was going on in his head.’

  ‘And he was always like this?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  Mr Sinclair allowed some moments to pass before putting his next question. ‘Did you ever observe the prisoner speaking to himself or appearing to be in conversation with another person who was not there?’

  Mr Murchison nodded. ‘Aye, now and again, I saw him muttering to himself.’

  ‘Frequently?’

  ‘Not infrequently.’

  At this point the Lord Justice-Clerk intervened. ‘How often do you mean by “not infrequently”?’

  ‘Quite often.’

  The Lord Justice-Clerk: ‘Every day, every week or once a month?’

  ‘Not every day, but certainly every week.’

  ‘So it was quite normal for you to observe this behaviour?’