His Bloody Project

by Graeme Macrae Burnet

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Mr Sinclair: ‘And did you ever overhear what he was saying to himself?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘He would cease whenever anyone came near him. And, in any case, it was more of a muttering, rather than a speaking out loud.’

  ‘I see. And had the prisoner always behaved in this way?’

  ‘I could not say.’

  ‘Did you observe him talking to himself in this way when he was a child?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘Can you remember when you first observed him behaving in this manner?’

  Mr Murchison shook his head and was instructed to answer by the Lord Justice-Clerk.

  ‘I cannot recall.’

  ‘Was it ten years ago, five years ago, or one year ago?’

  ‘More than one year ago.’

  ‘But not five years ago?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you ever see the prisoner behave in this way before his mother’s death?’

  ‘I could not say with any certainty.’

  ‘In conclusion, would it be fair to say that you did not regard the prisoner as completely normal?’

  ‘That would be fair.’

  Mr Sinclair then concluded his questioning and Kenny Smoke was excused. The next witness to be called was Duncan Gregor. Mr Gifford began by questioning him about the morning of the murders, but the Lord Justice-Clerk intervened, putting it to him that since the events in question were not in dispute, there was no need to waste time going over ground that had already been established. Mr Sinclair did not demur and for the rest of the day, proceedings moved along at a more rapid pace. A pattern emerged whereby the Crown sought to establish rational motives for the murders, while Mr Sinclair attempted, with varying degrees of success, to portray the accused as not being in his right mind. Ironically, the defence’s best moments were provided by the testimony of Aeneas Mackenzie. Mr Philby described him as, ‘a porcine fellow [who] did not appear to grasp that his derogatory statements about the accused were in greater service of the defence than the Crown’.

  When asked for his view of the prisoner’s state of mind, he bluntly replied, ‘He was a lunatic.’

  ‘A lunatic?’ Mr Sinclair repeated mildly. ‘Could you explain to the court what you mean?’

  ‘Just that. Everyone knew he was off his head.’

  ‘“Everyone” being who?’

  ‘Everyone in the parish.’

  ‘You mean he had something of the status of “village idiot”?’

  ‘Aye, that and more.’

  ‘What more?’

  ‘He had always a stupid grin on his face. He would always be sniggering about something when there was nothing to be sniggering about.’

  ‘I see. So would you say that he was not of sound mind?’

  ‘Aye, I most certainly would. There was many a time I’d have happily wiped the grin off his face and I’d do it now if I had the chance.’

  When Mr Sinclair concluded his examination, it took Mr Mackenzie some moments to grasp that he was excused, and he left the stand ‘mumbling to himself in a manner that suggested it was he whose sanity might be in question’.

  The final witness of the day was the schoolmaster, Mr Gillies, whom Mr Philby, clearly by this time enjoying himself, described as having ‘lady’s hands and a face one would struggle to describe – or remember’. Mr Gifford elicited a glowing testimony to Roddy’s abilities from the schoolmaster. He then questioned him about his visit to the prisoner’s father to suggest that he continue his education.

  ‘And what was the result of this visit?’

  ‘Unfortunately, Roddy was required by his father to work on the family’s croft.’

  ‘Were you in the habit of making such proposals?’

  ‘That is the only occasion I have done so.’

  ‘And why did you single out the prisoner in this way?’

  ‘He was without doubt the most gifted pupil I have taught.’

  Mr Gifford then moved onto Roddy’s general behaviour and demeanour. ‘Was he an unruly pupil?’

  ‘On the contrary, he was well-behaved and attentive.’

  ‘You are aware, Mr Gillies, that my colleagues for the defence have lodged a plea of insanity in this case?’

  ‘Yes.’

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

  Mr Gillies appeared to give this question serious thought before replying that he had not.

  ‘You never witnessed him raving or talking to himself?’

  Mr Gillies shook his head. ‘Never,’ he said.

  After a brief consultation with his team, Mr Gifford indicated that he had no more questions.

  Mr Sinclair rose for the defence.

  ‘Was the prisoner popular amongst his schoolmates?’ he asked.

  ‘Not especially.’

  ‘What do you mean by “not especially”?’

  ‘Simply that,’ said Mr Gillies, looking somewhat bemused.

  ‘Did he play or socialise with his fellows in the normal way?’

  ‘I think he was a rather solitary boy, quite happy in his own company.’

  ‘Somewhat aloof from his peers?’

  ‘You could say that, but I saw nothing abnormal in it. Some children are naturally gregarious, others less so.’

  Mr Sinclair seemed unsure whether to pursue his line of questioning, then decided that he had little to gain from providing a platform for a witness who seemed to have such high regard for his client.

  As it was by then half past four, the proceedings were adjourned for the day. The Lord Justice-Clerk informed the jury that they would be accommodated in a hotel for the night and counselled that they should desist from discussing the particulars of the case or forming any opinion about it.

  It had all, wrote Mr Philby, ‘made for excellent entertainment and every word was closely followed by those fortunate enough to have gained admission. Indeed, as if to corroborate the worthy Aeneas Mackenzie’s testimony, the only person who did not appear gripped by the spectacle was the prisoner himself.’

  Second day

  The trial resumed at half past nine the following morning. Roddy was brought in to cheers and catcalls from the public gallery, the occupants of which, wrote Mr Murdoch for the Courier, ‘appeared to believe that they were in a theatre rather than a court of law, and that the unfortunate prisoner was no more than a pantomime villain, brought forth for their entertainment’. Roddy did not once glance towards his tormentors. Mr Sinclair greeted him with a friendly pat on the shoulder as he took his seat in the dock. The Lord Justice-Clerk allowed the din to continue for a few minutes, perhaps reckoning it prudent to allow the spectators to let off a little steam before bringing the court to order. And indeed when he finally struck his gavel, the court-room was rapidly hushed.

  This respectful silence was short-lived, however, as Mr Gifford rose to call John Macrae as the first witness of the day. Mr Philby of The Times described Mr Macrae as a ‘tiny, bent figure with the appearance of a man twice his forty-four years. He leaned heavily on a gnarled stick and stared out from the dock with an expression of bewilderment in his small, dark eyes. The prisoner kept his head bowed for the duration of his father’s evidence and the crofter did not look at his son.’ The judge then sternly warned those in the gallery to remain silent on pain of being taken below and held in contempt. It was agreed that, as he was more proficient in the ‘ancient language of the Highlands’, Mr Macrae’s examination would be conducted in Gaelic and a translator was duly brought forth. Mr Gifford, in deference to the apparent infirmity of the witness, commenced his examination in a mild tone.

  He began by asking about the witness’s relationship with the deceased. Mr Macrae appeared confused by the questions
put to him and there were murmurs of amusement in the gallery, which were quickly curbed by the bench. Mr Gifford then re-phrased his question, all this, on account of the translation process, taking a good deal of time: ‘Were you and Mr Mackenzie on friendly terms?’

  Mr Macrae: ‘I know a good number of Mackenzies.’

  Mr Gifford smiled patiently. ‘I am referring to your neighbour, Lachlan Mackenzie, or Lachlan Broad, as he was known.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Mr Macrae. This response brought a fresh outburst of laughter from the gallery. The judge then ordered that the macers eject one of the culprits, an act which, despite the disruption it caused, appeared to have the desired effect.

  Mr Gifford then repeated his question.

  ‘I would not say that we were friends,’ replied Mr Macrae.

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘I could not say.’

  ‘Was there any reason that you and Lachlan Mackenzie were not friends?’

  Mr Macrae made no reply. The Lord Justice-Clerk then asked, through the translator, if Mr Macrae was having difficulty understanding the advocate’s questions. Then, having received assurance that he was not, reminded the witness that he was required to answer the questions put to him or be held in contempt.

  Mr Gifford then asked Mr Macrae about the reduction of the croft. After a laborious series of questions regarding this incident, he asked, ‘Did you feel aggrieved about this settlement?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You were not aggrieved that a portion of your croft, from which you derived the food to feed your family, had been taken from you?’

  ‘There were others who had greater need of the land.’

  ‘Did your son feel aggrieved about this settlement?’

  ‘You would have to ask him yourself.’

  ‘Did he show any sign of being aggrieved about this settlement?’

  No reply.

  ‘Did you discuss this incident with your son?’

  ‘No.’

  Mr Gifford appear somewhat exasperated and appealed to the Lord Justice-Clerk to compel the witness to answer his questions more fully. The judge replied that it was for the gentlemen of the jury to decide whether the answers given were satisfactory.

  The Solicitor-General then moved to an incident which had not yet been introduced.

  ‘Do you recall,’ he asked, ‘a morning sometime in April or May this year when you were gathering sea-ware on the shore at Culduie?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Can you tell the court what occurred that morning?’

  ‘It is as you say,’ Mr Macrae replied, to stifled laughter from the gallery.

  ‘You were gathering sea-ware?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With your son?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘For what purpose were you gathering this sea-ware?’

  ‘For the purpose of spreading on the croft.’

  ‘Did you speak to Mr Mackenzie that morning?’

  ‘He spoke to me.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He told me to return the sea-ware we had gathered to the shore.’

  ‘Did he give any reason for his instruction?’

  ‘We had not the permission to remove it.’

  ‘You require permission to remove sea-ware from the shore?’

  ‘It seems so.’

  ‘Whose permission did you require?’

  ‘The permission of Lord Middleton, to whom the sea-ware belonged.’

  ‘Lord Middleton being the laird of your district?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Had you gathered sea-ware from the shore before?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Frequently?’

  ‘On a yearly basis.’

  ‘And had you sought permission to do so on these previous occasions?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But on this occasion Mr Mackenzie asked you to return the sea-ware you had gathered?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why do you think he did so?’

  ‘It was his role to enforce the regulations.’

  ‘And you accepted that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You did not feel aggrieved at Mr Mackenzie’s actions?’

  Mr Macrae made no answer.

  ‘You were compelled to return a large quantity of sea-ware, which you had spent some hours harvesting, this in accordance with long-established practice, yet you did not feel aggrieved?’

  The crofter looked at the advocate for a few moments, then replied, ‘I was not happy about it.’

  Mr Gifford here exhaled theatrically, and was reprimanded by the Lord Justice-Clerk for doing so. He then excused himself, but was unable to resist a meaningful look towards the jury.

  ‘And is it true,’ he continued, ‘that on the following day, the village in its entirety gathered sea-ware for the purpose of spreading on their crofts?’

  ‘I do not know what their purpose was.’

  ‘But they gathered sea-ware?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you did not?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you say why they were allowed to gather sea-ware and you were not?’

  ‘They had permission to do so.’

  ‘And you did not seek permission to join them?’

  ‘I did not wish to take what did not belong to me.’

  There was some laughter in the gallery. Mr Macrae kept his eyes fixed on his left hand, which was gripping the edge of the witness box. Mr Gifford allowed a few moments to pass before proceeding.

  ‘So, if I may summarise,’ he said, ‘your testimony is that you bore no grievance towards the deceased, a man who had reduced the size of your croft, who had ordered you to return sea-ware to the shore, and to whom, on account of the incident with the sheep, you were indebted a considerable amount?’

  Mr Macrae made no answer.

  Mr Gifford pressed him for an answer.

  ‘It was not for me to hold a grievance towards Mr Mackenzie.’

  The Lord Justice-Clerk at this point reminded Mr Gifford that it was not the witness that was on trial, and the question of whether he bore a grievance towards the deceased was immaterial. It was clearly important to the Crown’s strategy, however, that in order to prove the defendant had acted rationally, it was necessary to establish the existence of a grievance against the victim. It was thus a visibly infuriated Mr Gifford that concluded his questioning. A gleeful sketch in the following day’s Inverness Courier described how the ‘Crown’s finest legal mind had been bested by a simple crofter’.

  Mr Sinclair rose for the defence and, addressing the witness in Gaelic, enquired whether he was quite comfortable.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I must ask you about your son, who is here accused of the most dreadful crimes. Prior to the events which have brought us to this court-room, did you ever know your son to be violent?’

  Mr Macrae made no answer.

  ‘Did your son ever strike you or threaten to strike you?’

  Mr Macrae made no answer and was reminded by the Lord Justice-Clerk of his obligations.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did he ever strike your wife or any of his siblings?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did he ever strike any of your neighbours?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you would not say that he was given to violence?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So if he committed these acts of which he is here charged, you would say that it was out of character?’

  Mr Macrae did not seem to understand this question.

  Mr Sinclair: ‘Would you describe your son as a violent person?’

  ‘I have never had cause to describe him.’

  Mr Sinclair smiled, in ‘a clear attemp
t to conceal his growing irritation’, and rephrased his question: ‘If you were asked to describe your son, would you describe him as a violent person?’

  ‘I don’t believe so,’ the witness replied.

  ‘Were you ever violent towards your son?’

  ‘I was not.’

  ‘You never struck him?’

  ‘I did strike him.’

  ‘When did you have occasion to strike him?’

  ‘When necessary.’

  ‘I see. And could you give an example of when you found it necessary to strike him?’

  ‘When he had disobeyed me or had caused some trouble.’

  ‘“Caused trouble” – so your son sometimes caused trouble? Could you describe to the court an occasion when your son caused trouble and obliged you to beat him?’

  Mr Macrae did not reply.

  ‘We have heard testimony about an incident in which your son killed a sheep belonging to Mr Mackenzie. Did you strike your son on this occasion?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Can you tell the court why you did so?’

  ‘He had caused trouble.’

  ‘I see. And did you strike him once or repeatedly?’

  ‘Repeatedly.’

  ‘And with what did you strike him?’

  ‘With my stick,’ which he helpfully held up.

  ‘And on which part or parts of his body?’

  ‘On his back.’

  ‘You struck him repeatedly on his back with your stick?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And was this an isolated incident?’

  Mr Macrae did not appear to understand this question.

  ‘Were there other occasions on which you had cause to beat your son?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘And did you always beat him with your stick?’

  ‘Not always.’

  ‘Did you strike him with your fists?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And, when you struck him with your fists, where would you strike him?’

  ‘Around the body.’

  ‘On his head and face?’

  ‘Likely there, too.’

  ‘And this was a frequent occurrence?’

  The Lord Justice-Clerk here asked Mr Sinclair to be more precise in his question.

  ‘Did you beat your son on a daily basis, on a weekly basis, or less frequently than that?’