by Kip Gayden
Baskerville was nervous again. “I see . . .”
“I told Walter that I would go to him and tell him to leave Nashville. I told him I wanted to end it with Charlie, once and for all.”
Baskerville nodded. “Yes. Go on.”
“And I did. I went to Nashville last Friday, and I took Scott with me, so Walter would know nothing was going to happen between Charlie and me. I told him to leave.”
“And is that all you told him?”
She shook her head. “No. I agreed to come back the next day.”
“And did you inform Walter of this?”
“No. I told Walter I was going shopping the next day. It . . . was a lie.”
“Never mind that now. You are saying that Walter had no knowledge you were going to Nashville on the day of the shooting?”
Anna nodded. “That’s right.”
“I suspected,” Walter said. “I even had a cousin of mine watching for her. That’s bound to come out.”
“But I think we must demonstrate that Anna acted without your prompting or encouragement, at least on Saturday,” Baskerville said. “Otherwise, Walter, you could become an accomplice.”
“That must not happen!” Anna said. “I did what I did to protect Walter, to keep him from . . . doing something drastic. Our children must keep at least one of their parents. Please, Mr. Baskerville, you have to understand!”
“I do understand, Anna,” the lawyer said. “At least, I think I do. But we have to make sure the legal system understands, as well. That’s why I’m asking all these questions now, as your counselor. I don’t want you to have to face this for the first time when you’re being interrogated by a prosecutor.”
There was a silence, then Baskerville said, “Walter, Anna, I want to make a recommendation. I think we need some help with this case. I think we need to talk to J. M. Anderson, in Nashville.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Walter said. “The retired judge?”
Baskerville nodded. “Judge Anderson left the bench in 1901, and since then he’s made quite a name as a criminal attorney. He doesn’t work cheap, and I can’t even guarantee he’ll take the case, but I know him a bit, and I’m willing to ask him to consider it. If he wants to meet with you, I presume you’d be agreeable?”
Anna and Walter nodded.
“All right, then. Leave that to me, for now. But tomorrow we have to go back to Nashville for the preliminary hearing and arraignment. And as your lawyer, I want you to observe one rule above everything else: don’t talk to anyone except me, do you understand? Anna, this Paul Christian fellow with the Tennessean has dug a mighty deep hole for you, what with the story that ran in this morning’s paper. Anybody who reads it is going to have a hard time believing you could be anything except guilty. So tomorrow, and from now on until the trial, if this goes that far, you must keep silent about the case.” He punched his desk with his knuckles to emphasize the last phrase. Anna nodded again, looking at Walter.
“All right, then. Now, I imagine a little bit of a crowd has gathered out along the walk in front of my office.”
Walter’s shoulders sagged. “Yes. They were in front of our house before sunrise, and they keep coming. They followed us here.”
Baskerville nodded in sympathy. “Well. I want the two of you to slip out this back door, to the alley. The less you have to be in crowds and listen to what they say, the better. Besides that, I imagine there’s at least half a dozen newspaper reporters out there. We don’t need any more attention from them than we’ve already gotten.”
J. M. ANDERSON HUNG UP the phone and leaned back in his chair, studying the pressed tin ceiling of his large, sunlit office. Baskerville had only given him a few details, but this could be an interesting case. Too bad it wasn’t one he thought he could win—at least, from what he knew right now. The biggest trouble was, not only he, but anybody who had read yesterday’s Tennessean, knew from Anna Dotson’s own lips that she had come to Nashville on the Dixie Flyer with a pistol hidden in her muff, that she had walked from Union Station down Broadway, entered Jackson’s Barbershop, stepped right up to Charlie Cobb, and put at least two bullets in him. And yet she said she hadn’t murdered him . . .
Anderson shook his head. Anybody who could say such a thing with a straight face ought to be a shoo-in for an insanity defense. He wondered if he could persuade Baskerville’s friend to at least consider it. With that, he thought he could probably keep the noose from around Anna Dotson’s neck, and that would be a better outcome than the woman had any reasonable right to expect. Anderson had his reputation to think about, of course. Since leaving the bench, he’d assembled a pretty fair string of victories in court, and though he certainly didn’t mind the notoriety such a famous case would bring, he also didn’t want a famous loss on his record. Well, it would be interesting to talk to her, at least. Like everyone else in this part of the country, J. M. Anderson was more than a little curious about this attractive, cultured woman who had done the unimaginable. He pushed himself from behind his desk and went out front to tell his secretary to rearrange his schedule for the afternoon.
31
NASHVILLE TENNESSEAN
and The Nashville American
* * *
Vol. 6–No. 311. March 17, 1913
* * *
MRS. COBB TO BE STATE’S WITNESS
According to Mrs. Charles Cobb, the widow of the young barber who was shot to death by Mrs. Anna Dotson, the wife of a prominent physician, Saturday afternoon in Jackson’s barber shop on Broadway, a vigorous prosecution will be instituted against her husband’s slayer. She declared Sunday that she wanted to appear as the prosecutor in the case, and instructed her attorney, G. Bibb Jacobs, that she wanted her name to appear on the warrant that was sworn out against Mrs. Dotson. Attorney Jacobs immediately began active steps against the accused woman, and in consultation with Attorney-General A. V. Anderson and Assistant Attorney-General J. Washington Moore, agreed to have everything in readiness this morning by 11 o’clock to present the case before the grand jury.
Attorney Jacobs, in discussing the case, stated that his client had instructed him to leave no stone unturned, to push the prosecution with all possible speed. Before leaving Nashville Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Cobb declared that she would leave no loophole for Mrs. Dotson to escape; that she wanted the heaviest bond possible set for her, that she might be kept in custody until the law could take its course.
According to Mr. Jacobs, he will have the eyewitnesses to the shooting summoned this morning before 9 o’clock, and everything will be in readiness for Attorney-General Anderson to have the indictment prepared for the grand jury at the required time. During the short interval since the shooting occurred much evidence has been procured by the attorneys.
This morning at 9 o’clock Mrs. Dotson will be given a preliminary hearing before Judge Neil in the city court. Little or no testimony will be taken, and it is thought that she will merely be bound over to the criminal court. She will probably arrive in the city early today.
Assistant Attorney-General Moore declared that the grand jury would probably report on the case at an early hour this afternoon.
Mrs. Cobb arrived in the city Sunday morning, having come from Herndon, Ky. where she had been staying with her mother. She was told over the long distance telephone of her husband’s death, and hurried to Nashville. Dressed in deep mourning, the bereaved woman could talk but little of the circumstances that led to her husband’s tragic end. Frequently her voice would shake with emotion, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Mrs. Cobb said that when she lived in Gallatin, she and Mrs. Dotson had been very good friends. They had often visited each other, going riding together and attending card parties at the latter’s home. Both she and her husband were on good terms with the Dotson family, she declared, and it was only recently that she knew of the difficulty that finally led to the shooting.
On the day Anna Dotson came to Nashville to enter her plea, Christian woke up wonderin
g how much money was going to change hands in various newspaper offices by the end of the day. His office had a lively little betting pool, with odds running two-to-one in favor of a guilty plea. He was inclined to go with the majority on this, just because he couldn’t see any way she could hope to rescue herself by going through with a trial. She’d confessed to the killing in the newspaper, and not only confessed to the act, but to the planning that led up to the act. The state’s prosecutor had been telling everyone that he would be asking for the maximum penalty. The way Christian saw it, if Anna Dotson pleaded not guilty, she was a lead-pipe cinch to be the first woman in Tennessee hanged for murder.
The only mitigating factor in Anna’s favor was that she had retained J. M. Anderson, a retired judge and one of the most respected criminal defense attorneys in the state. When rumors started flying around that the Baskerville fellow had been having conversations with J. M. Anderson, Christian couldn’t believe it. Why would a successful lawyer and former judge like Anderson risk his reputation on a no-win situation like this? And right after that, the reporter started wondering if there was an angle to this case he hadn’t thought about. So much about Anna Dotson didn’t go according to plan; the possibility of some kind of surprise outcome seemed less far-fetched with her than it might have with another case.
So on Monday morning, as Paul Christian watched Anna sit with her husband and their attorneys while they waited for their case to be called, he was doing a lot of thinking. And one thing he was thinking, a worry that was lodged in his mind like a blackberry seed between his teeth, was that if Walter Dotson, the jealous husband, had shot Charlie Cobb, this whole thing might easily have ended with a no-bill from the grand jury. Christian measured the likelihood of a bunch of Tennessee men looking at and listening to a respected doctor, a community leader whose wife had gone astray, and then indicting him for doing what just about any one of them would have done in the same situation. In his mind, it seemed about as likely as the devil starting a snowball fight.
In doing his research for the story over the weekend on Anna’s suffragette background Christian had gotten an earful or two from people like her friend Elizabeth Jennings. And, of course, he’d been writing stories on the women’s movement for quite a while. He had to admit, though it made him uncomfortable to do it, that if all the tables in the whole world were turned, and somebody like himself were sitting in front of a grand jury full of women, he wouldn’t much care for his chances, either.
Christian figured that with all the notoriety this case had, Judge Neil would call it ahead of his other business, but the judge took his sweet time, finishing up the trial he was in before admitting the Dotson case. They all cooled their heels for three hours, waiting on A. B. Neil’s pleasure. Christian spent most of the time alternating between scribbling notes on his pad and avoiding Walter Dotson’s glare. He guessed Anna had identified him as the person she talked to while she was in the holding cell; he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be getting a Christmas card from the Dotsons or any of their friends.
Christian had been there early, Johnny-on-the-spot, and he had the Tennessean’s best photographer in tow. Not that he had to do much arm-twisting; after his Sunday article, everybody at the paper wanted in on what promised to be a very juicy, protracted story. It was the kind of thing that could make a person’s career. Tomorrow would be the third day in a row his words would appear on the front page.
At last, Judge Neil called the case of the People of Tennessee v. Anna Dotson, then asked the accused and her counsel to stand. He read the entire indictment, not skipping a single word, pausing every so often just to make sure it was all soaking in: “That Anna Dotson . . . on the 15th day of March, 1913, with force and arms . . . unlawfully, feloniously, willfully, deliberately, premeditatedly, and maliciously did make an assault upon the body of one Charlie Cobb . . . and, with malice aforethought, did kill and murder, against the peace and dignity of the State of Tennessee.”
Judge Neil put down the piece of paper he was reading and stared at Anna with eyes like razor blades. “How does the defendant plead?”
“Not guilty,” Anna said from underneath her veil. The photographer Christian had brought with him turned to the reporter sitting next to him and held out his hand. Christian saw the reporter grimace as he started digging in his pocket.
Christian had bought a copy of this morning’s edition, and had it tucked under his arm as he hurried from the courthouse to the newspaper office. It was cool that day, as it had been for most of the spring, and Christian’s pace was brisk. The arraignment had taken longer than he expected—aside from the judge’s leisure, Anna Dotson had arrived late, much to the irritation of the spectators who had crowded together hoping for a glimpse of her.
He had hoped for another interview with Mrs. Dotson. But this case was going to sell a lot of papers, Christian thought with a grin, solely based on what she’d already confessed to him. When the Dotsons left the building, both they and their attorney looked haggard, but Anna appeared, to Christian at least, to be at peace. He had the feeling that she was about to break out into a smile. What was going on in that pretty blonde head?
NASHVILLE TENNESSEAN
and The Nashville American
* * *
Vol. 6–No. 312. March 18, 1913
INDICT COBB’S SLAYER
* * *
After taking testimony from 11 o’clock until 3 o’clock Monday afternoon, the grand jury sitting in the case of Mrs. W. S. Dotson, wife of a prominent Gallatin physician, who shot and killed Charlie Cobb, a barber, in Jackson’s barber shop Saturday afternoon, returned an indictment charging her with murder in the first degree. It was agreed between the attorneys on both sides that the woman’s bond should be $20,000, and after some delay the necessary signatures were procured and Mrs. Dotson was released shortly before 5 o’clock, leaving immediately for her home in Gallatin. Her trial was set for May 20.
Standing just within the bar of the criminal court, K. T. McConnico, one of her attorneys, at her side, Mrs. Dotson heard the indictment read without showing the slightest sign of emotion or fear. When the reading was finished she calmly walked over to her husband’s side, and the pair hurried from the room.
The sensational shooting of Cobb Saturday afternoon caused a large crowd to gather at the police station early Monday morning, several hours before the arrival of the defendant and her party. Her arrival caused considerable excitement, the crowd following her wherever she went.
The case was set for 9 o’clock Monday morning and long before that hour many people congregated at police headquarters. The court room was crowded, standing room being at a premium. When court convened, and Mrs. Dotson’s case was called, disappointment could be read in every face when it was announced that on account of the trains, she would not arrive until 10:10 o’clock. Judge Neil stayed in the courtroom even after he had cleaned up the docket, while in the halls and around the doors of headquarters hung a crowd of the curious. As the minutes slipped by, rumors began to spread and considerable excitement prevailed. According to one rumor, Mrs. Dotson’s bond had been declared forfeited and a state’s warrant had been sworn out. But Judge Neil declared that he was assured that Mrs. Dotson would appear in court and he waited.
Shortly after 10 o’clock a large delegation of Gallatin people who had come in on the accommodation could be seen coming up Second Avenue. In the center was Mrs. Dotson, her husband, and J. T. Baskerville, their attorney. The crowd craned their necks and Wiles, the photographer who was on the scene, advanced to meet the party, trying to get a photograph of Dr. and Mrs. Dotson.
The photographer put his camera in readiness and as the defendant passed he snapped the picture. Dr. Dotson, hearing the click of the lens, whirled around and said: “You dirty scoundrel.” Mr. Baskerville, in attempting to shield his client, rushed at the photographer and struck at the camera, but he was too late, and despite the efforts of the attorney and those surrounding her, several pictures were snapped of Mr
s. Dotson before she entered the police station.
Mr. Baskerville, in speaking of the affair, said that he did his best to break the camera, as Mrs. Dotson objected to the publicity and he was trying to carry out her wishes.
As Mrs. Dotson ascended the steps to the courtroom the crowd rushed ahead of her, seeking a vantage point from which they could stare at the prisoner. As she entered the room Clerk Wasserman immediately announced that the court was in session and Mrs. Dotson was called to the stand.
Arraigned before Judge Neil, the charge of murder and carrying a pistol was read to her. She never moved a muscle, but continued staring at Judge Neil in a cool manner. Mr. Baskerville entered a plea of “not guilty” and the defendant was bound over to the criminal court.
When Mrs. Dotson was called to the stand the crowd climbed up on the benches to hear what she would say, and several policemen had to be stationed around the room to keep order. Accompanied by Grand Jury Officer Rice, the defendant was taken promptly to the jail. The crowd followed. A policeman stationed at the jail door kept back the curious, while Mrs. Dotson was registered on the jail blotter.
Walking closely by her side, Dr. Dotson was in constant attendance and sat with her in the jail office while she answered the questions. She gave her age as 32 years, her weight as 103 pounds. She declared that she was 66 inches in height. She was dressed very plainly Monday morning, being clad in a brown morning dress and white-top shoes. A large black hat and heavy veil hid her face while a heavy motor coat and black muff, in which she had brought the revolver to Nashville on the afternoon of the killing, kept out the biting morning air.
As Mrs. Dotson answered the questions of the jailer, she smiled several times, as did Dr. Dotson. Through the courtesy of Jailer William Longhurst, she was placed in a private room, just off the main office, and there allowed to stay until the grand jury had reported on her case. During the interval, many Gallatin people, who had come to Nashville to witness the preliminary hearing, came to see her.