Miscarriage of Justice

by Kip Gayden

  Judge Neil’s bailiff stepped out into the hallway and told the attorneys to come inside. As the attorneys entered the courtroom, the court officer stood guard at the door.

  After the attorneys, Anna, Walter, Daisy Cobb, Detective Sidebottom, and Christian were also allowed inside. Anna’s attorneys took up their positions at the defense table, facing the judge’s bench and at right angles to the jury box. Anna sat in the center of the table, with Anderson on her right, and Seay and Baskerville on her left. The lawyers each presented a calm exterior, but Christian knew they had to be churning on the inside.

  Across from the defense bench and still facing the judge, but farther from the jury box, sat the stern-faced prosecution team. Christian was seated behind them, on the other side of the wooden rail separating the judge and the attorneys from the rest of the courtroom. Attorney General Anderson was assisted by attorneys “Bibbs” Jacobs, Washington Moore, and Woodall Murray. To Christian’s left, also in the front row, was Daisy Cobb, dressed in a plain black dress.

  There was a lull in the proceedings while everyone waited for the judge to enter. Attorney General Anderson, a small, feisty forty-year-old, leaned toward the defense table and said to J. M. Anderson, “The offer is withdrawn.” The prosecutors were obviously confident and anxious to get the trial underway.

  Judge Neil entered and took his seat and asked, “Is the state ready?”

  “Yes, your Honor, we are ready to proceed.”

  Judge Neil turned to the defense table. “Is the defense ready?”

  “Yes, your Honor, we are ready.”

  “Then we shall proceed to choose a jury. I suppose the best way is to first bring into the courtroom the prospective jurors, and I will ask some general questions. Then I will retire to my office, and each juror shall be brought into my chambers, one by one, and asked additional questions by counsel. If both sides accept the juror, he will be taken to the jury room; if a juror is challenged and is dismissed, we will escort him out with instructions to stay away from the courthouse until a jury of twelve men is ultimately chosen. Each of you has eight challenges for any reason. Any objections?”

  “That is acceptable to the state.”

  “It is suitable to the defense.”

  And with that, the trial was underway. Even though he knew it was going to happen, Christian couldn’t suppress a wince when the bailiff motioned him out of the room. Only the principals and their counsel would be allowed to observe the voir dire. As he walked slowly from the courtroom, Paul Christian took a long look at the back of Anna Dotson’s head. She sat as straight as any school teacher. Christian couldn’t help wondering how she’d maintain her posture when the jury sentenced her to the gallows.

  J. M. ANDERSON LISTENED CAREFULLY as Judge Neil ordered that the jury pool of one hundred men be brought into the courtroom. The clerk went out into the hallway and began to call out the names. It took half an hour, since some of the prospective jurors were on the floor below and outside the courthouse. The officers of the court had to walk down the hallways and down the stairs until they’d located and summoned each man whose name was on their lists. Finally, they were all in the courtroom, seated in the spectator seats, along the walls, and in the balcony.

  Judge Neil ordered the prospective jurors to stand and be sworn. They raised their right hands and swore to “truly answer the questions posed to them.” The judge then explained the purpose of voir dire: “to pick a fair and impartial jury.”

  The judge asked the first, compelling question: “If you have not read in the newspapers or heard any conversation about this case, the People of Tennessee v. Anna Dotson, please raise your hands.” Only five or so men raised their hands, confirming to the judge and to the lawyers that the case carried substantial notoriety, since the news coverage of the murder was so widespread.

  Judge Neil summoned the lawyers to the bench, and in a low voice he said, “There is no reason to ask any prospective juror whether he has read about the case. Reading the newspapers is not grounds to disqualify a juror, and the Supreme Court of Tennessee has so ruled.” He peered meaningfully at the defense counsel.

  The prosecution agreed readily; J. M. was far from enthusiastic, but decided to say nothing. Still, he could tell that things were already not going his way. The publicity factor was something he had planned to question the individual jurors about, for the purpose of creating a record for a possible appeal. But now, if he went that route, he risked offending Judge Neil.

  The individual questioning of jurors began. One by one, the prospective jurors were called into the judge’s chambers and each took a seat in the middle of the room. After the judge had asked his questions, both sides followed with their own.

  The prosecution mostly asked each man if he believed in the death penalty, and whether, if the evidence supported it, he could sentence a woman to die on the gallows if she were convicted of murder in the first degree. A handful of men answered that they did not believe in the death penalty. The prosecution moved to excuse them, but Anderson quickly objected to this being a valid reason for their exclusion. Judge Neil ruled in favor of the state, though, and he excused for cause those who did not believe in the death penalty. Since it was for cause, these challenges did not count against the total number of regular challenges the prosecutors were allowed—another blow to the defense.

  In his questions to the prospective jurors, Anderson at first concentrated on whether a prospective juror, having heard conversation about the case, could still be fair. He asked each, “Will you keep an open mind and give the defendant a fair shake?” Then, as a follow-up question, the defense counsel handed each prospective juror a partial copy of the March 16th Tennessean and American.

  Anderson was careful not to discuss the part of the article describing the murder, lest he draw the ire of Judge Neil, who had already announced that asking questions along that line would not be tolerated. Instead, he showed the men the portion of the double headline that read, “WOMAN SUFFRAGE.” He asked each of the prospective jurors, “What is your feeling about the suffrage movement by women?”

  The prosecution looked confused by this line of inquiry, which suited Anderson just fine. Judge Neil seemed irritated by it, and that was a little more worrisome, but since the “SENSATIONAL MURDER” headline was not shown to a single prospective juror, he let the questioning about women’s suffrage continue, over the objection of the state. J. M. Anderson excused eight men who were adamant about their opposition to the right of women to vote. It was a good idea, but it used up all eight of his peremptory challenges; the defense had no way to exclude anyone else from the jury.

  Anderson also would have wanted to exclude from the jury any man who stated skepticism about insanity or monomania as a valid basis for a plea of not guilty. Unfortunately, the suffrage issue used up all his options. He knew as well as any first-year law student that the case is often won or lost in voir dire. The most important thing an attorney can do for his client is to try to empanel a jury that will be most sympathetic to the point of view he wants to present. Anderson had done his best, but now he was out of ammunition.

  So, as it turned out, there were an equal number of men on the jury on both sides of the women’s suffrage question. Amazingly, though, for such a notorious trial, by noon, twelve jurors had been chosen from the original batch of one hundred. The average age of the panel was about fifty. These men would decide Anna Dotson’s fate.

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  Anna looked up as the jury filed into the courtroom. Her life now lay in the hands of these twelve strangers. When Mr. Baskerville returned from the judge’s chambers to their table in the courtroom, he had made a reassuring face, but Anna could tell from the way he shuffled his papers this way and that that he was far from relaxed about her prospects. She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. Whatever happened was up to the Good Lord and J. M. Anderson—along with the twelve men now staring at her from the jury box.

  The other Mr. Anderson, the lead prosecutor
, gave the state’s opening statement. The attorney general portrayed Anna Dotson as “an intelligent and sane woman who had entered the barbershop with the intent to kill, after considerable aforethought.” He suggested that the jury would “agree that she was a mean woman who simply committed adultery for her own gratification, and then committed murder as an act of vindictiveness.” Attorney General Anderson asked the jury to “assess the ultimate penalty, death by hanging.” Anna felt her chest tightening each time he mentioned the death penalty. Though she thought she had clearly understood all the possible consequences of her actions, the possibility of execution had suddenly become much more real to her. She could feel it in the denouncing tone of the prosecutor’s voice; she could see it in the closed faces and staring eyes of the jurors.

  Anna was thankful she had worn a hat with a veil; she didn’t think she could have endured that harsh scrutiny any other way.

  J. M. Anderson gave the opening statement for the defense. He portrayed Anna in a different light. “Anna is a person who was driven to this act by the deeds of the deceased. Anna was temporarily insane; you, the jury, will hear expert testimony that will prove Anna was suffering from monomania, which means she is a sane person in all respects except in relation to one person or thing . . . Anna is, sometimes to her own detriment, an independent woman.” The defense attorney paused and made eye contact with each member of the jury as he spoke his next words. “Anna killed Charlie Cobb, but in her own, infirm mind, she believes she did not murder him.”

  At this, several of the jurors reacted with visible expressions of doubt. She killed him, but she did not murder him? It was the truth; it was exactly what Anna had said herself, in Mr. Anderson’s office, and elsewhere. But stated here in the courtroom, and coming from the mouth of J. M. Anderson, even she thought it sounded far-fetched. Anna felt her hope dimming from moment to moment. Despite her best efforts to rein in her imagination, she began seeing visions of Mabel and Scott standing at the graveside of a mother who had first disgraced them, then left them bereft.

  The first witness for the prosecution was Davidson County Coroner L.W. Gupton, who testified as to the path of the two gunshots that struck Cobb: “One in the left ear area, and one in the left side, near his midsection.” The coroner continued, “The shot to Cobb’s head went down into his body, severing arteries and leading to his death from bleeding.” He continued, “The second bullet entered Charlie Cobb’s body in the upper midsection . . . either of the two would have killed him.” Apparently, the coroner’s testimony was supposed to lay to rest any lingering doubts about whether two or four shots had been fired. Then the prosecutors introduced into evidence Charlie Cobb’s clothes. As the gray, blood-soaked garments were being passed around among the jurors, there was silence in the courtroom, similar to the hush that accompanies the shoveling of dirt on a dead man’s grave after the preacher has said his last words. The jurors, as well as the audience, were visibly affected. All the while, Anna continued to sit staring straight ahead, her face still covered by the veil. She made herself hold absolutely still. She was surprised at how little emotion she felt, seeing Charlie’s ruined clothing.

  The next called were the eyewitnesses who were inside the barbershop when the shots were fired. The prosecution began questioning with the direct examination of barber C. A. Hodges. “Immediately after the shooting, and while she was still holding the gun, McCurdy—he’s another barber—he asked her, ‘Lady, what is the matter?’” Hodges testified. “She told him, ‘That man wrecked my home and broke my husband’s heart. This thing has ruined my life and will not ruin another.’”

  Staring at the jury, Attorney General Anderson said, “‘This thing’? Is that what you said, Mr. Hodges? Anna Dotson, the smoking gun still in her hand, characterized the man she had just killed as a ‘thing’?”

  “Yes, sir,” Hodges said.

  Still staring at the jury, the attorney general said, “No further questions, your Honor.”

  Hearing her own words in Hodges’ mouth, Anna realized how she must be appearing to the jurors. But how could they understand what Charlie Cobb, had taken from her? How could any man understand?

  ON WEDNESDAY, the state picked up where it had left off. Another witness who was in the barbershop testified that after Anna shot Charlie Cobb, she said, “I am Mrs. Dotson of Gallatin. You know my husband. I did what I came here to do and you can send him word. This man wrecked my home and broke my husband’s heart.”

  Anna had to make a conscious effort to keep herself from nodding in agreement to her own words.

  The prosecutor carefully crafted the questions he asked the eyewitnesses, continuing to pile up testimony intended to corroborate the state’s point that Anna was cold and callous, even after the two fatal shots were fired. The eyewitnesses testified that she appeared prepared to fire more shots into the body of Cobb as he writhed in pain on the floor. One witness insinuated that had it not been for Mr. Dunn, who, with the help of Mr. Jackson, the proprietor, grabbed the gun when Mrs. Dotson pointed it down at Cobb, she would have fired more shots into his body.

  One of the barbers, who did not see the shooting but was there at the time, testified about events surrounding the previous day’s visit by Anna Dotson. He stated that on that Friday, he overheard Charlie Cobb telling Anna Dotson, who was standing next to him while he was cutting Anna’s son’s hair, “I am moving my family back to Nashville within two weeks.” The purpose of this testimony was to buttress the state’s assertion of premeditation; it clearly showed that Anna planned to kill Charlie Cobb if he attempted to move back to Gallatin, Nashville, or anywhere close.

  Witnesses testified that Anna had brought the gun into the barbershop after hiding it in her muff. The prosecutor was painting Anna as a calculating killer, since she concealed the pistol all the way from her home in Gallatin.

  The state showed the jury the photograph taken of Anna, published in the newspaper the Tuesday after the murder, depicting Anna Dotson with the same muff when she appeared at the preliminary hearing. “Gentlemen of the jury, this woman was more interested in her attire than the life of Charlie Cobb,” the prosecutor said, further cementing in jurors’ minds her supposedly coldhearted attitude.

  Some of the jurors were starting to look really angry, but Anna held herself in check and continued to sit as still as a stone, staring straight ahead. They could put a noose around her neck, and they probably would, but she was determined to hold onto what was left of her dignity.

  Barber L. H. McCurdy testified, “I had the next chair to Cobb. I knew him for about a week. Cobb was a pleasant, agreeable man. I first saw Mrs. Dotson the day before the killing. She had passed the shop a time or so before she entered with a little boy accompanying her. She went in the direction of Cobb’s chair, toward the rear of the shop, and the boy was placed in Cobb’s chair to have his hair cut. Mrs. Dotson stood beside the chair and talked to Cobb while he was cutting the child’s hair. When the work was finished, Mrs. Dotson walked with the child to the front of the shop. Cobb followed them, and he reminded her that she had forgotten to pay for the work. She asked his pardon and Cobb told her to pay him and he would settle for it. Afterward, Cobb and Mrs. Dotson walked out of the shop to the vicinity of the barber pole. They stood there and talked for about ten minutes.”

  Mr. McKinley, a city fireman, said, “I was getting a shave when shots were fired. Mrs. Dotson’s back was toward me at the time. Mrs. Dotson later appeared very calm. I asked her what was the trouble, and Mrs. Dotson replied, ‘He broke my husband’s heart, wrecked my home, and I am the mother of two children.’”

  Anna watched the juror’s faces, but if they had any shadow of sympathy for a woman’s plight, they did a good job of hiding it. This was hopeless; how could twelve men be expected to understand what was in her heart and mind?

  Officer H. P. McGarver testified next. He acknowledged making the initial arrest and identified the revolver that was exhibited. He said, “There were two empty shells in
it when I examined the pistol a few minutes after the shooting.”

  The judge recessed the trial for the noon hour. Anna, Walter, and the defense attorneys went to Mr. Anderson’s office for a bit more privacy. J. M. Anderson sent out for sandwiches, but Anna wasn’t hungry. She couldn’t get out of her mind the way the jurors had looked at her.

  As if reading her mind, Walter asked J. M. Anderson, “It seems the prosecution is doing quite a bit of damage. Are we going to be all right?”

  Anderson didn’t answer for a few seconds. “All they’ve really done so far is establish the facts. We aren’t disputing the facts—we can’t. When it comes time to make our case, we have to show them the ‘why’ behind the facts. That’s what we’re counting on.”

  Walter didn’t look convinced. And, as far as Anna could see, the other defense lawyers didn’t, either.

  Just after the recess, the state called Jordan Warren, a neighbor from Gallatin. Anna wished she could have looked at Walter without raising her veil and turning her head; what in the world could the prosecutors want with Jordan Warren?

  Under questioning from the prosecution, Anna began to understand, and her dread ratcheted higher.

  “On the Monday or Tuesday before the killing,” he testified, “I heard several shots fired in the backyard of the Dotson home. I was eating dinner at the time and heard two or three shots, but was unable to see anyone. When I finished dinner and was standing in front of the Keystone Hotel talking to a gentleman, I heard more shots and saw Dr. Dotson set up a board, which I presumed had been used as a target. I did not see Mrs. Dotson. I thought there was probably six or seven shots altogether. I did not see who was doing the shooting.”

  The prosecution was still hanging on to the possibility that Walter had put Anna up to the shooting. They were trying to use Jordan Warren’s testimony as a link between Walter and the target practice in his backyard, which could, in turn, imply that he had a hand in planning the crime. Oh, Walter! This is what I was trying to protect you from!