I'll Love You Tomorrow

by Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

  “Them old boys wouldn’t know drunk and unruly if it sneaked up on them.”

  “We will let the jury decide what is to be believed and what isn’t.”

  “So it is your testimony that the defendant accosted Hornsby and stole your truck which had overheated.”

  “Accosted…he beat hell out of Jack.”

  “What time of night did you first encounter the defendant?”

  “Well I would say…you know it had just gotten dark…so about six o’clock.”

  “And it’s your testimony that the defendant stole the truck and you had to walk to St. Mark?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What time was it when you reported the truck stolen?”

  “Must have been near eight o’clock.”

  “Would it surprise you Mr. Delements to know that you actually reported the incident with the defendant at seven fifteen?”

  “So what if I did?”

  “Because Mr. Delements it goes to the truth…and it would have been impossible for you to walk the ten miles from the point of the attack to City Hall to make the report to the police.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  Mr. Delements this simply demonstrates that you have perjured yourself…you sir in language that you can understand are a liar.” Halliburton said looking directly at the jury.

  “Your honor, I have no further questions of this witness.”

  “Is there a redirect, Mr. Sherwin?”

  “No your honor.”

  “I want the clerk to call the deputies…Mr. Delements shall be held for further questioning regarding the matter of perjury.”

  Delements began to scuffle with the guards but, within a matter of moments he was under their control and led from the courtroom.

  “Call your next witness.” The judge ordered.

  “Dr. George Murphy, the county coroner.”

  Dr. Murphy appeared and was sworn by the clerk. He proceeded to give his credentials as the coroner and began to testify to the autopsy, which he had performed on Jack Hornsby.

  “So, Dr. Murphy would it be safe to say that Jack Hornsby died of wounds inflicted by this bat?”

  “Yes, Hornsby’s hair, bone fragments and tissue were typed on the bat.”

  “Thank you Doctor…your witness.”

  “Dr. Murphy, did you perform a blood alcohol test on Mr. Hornsby?”

  “Yes and it tested at .04.”

  “Now, Dr. that would be well beyond the level at which a person is legally drunk.”

  “Yes, he was drunk.”

  “Dr. Murphy, did you find other samples of hair, blood and bone fragments on the bat that did not match Mr. Hornsby.”

  “Yes, there were samples taken and they matched the tissue and blood of the defendant.”

  “So it is safe to say that the defendant took a serious beating himself.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you doctor.”

  “Is there a redirect?”

  “No, your honor.”

  “Call Detective William Grant.”

  “Detective, you have been sworn and have given a deposition as to the events of the night in question. There is a direct conflict between the statements of James Delements and those of the defendant as to the taking of the truck, where you able to get constructive fingerprints from the truck?”

  “Yes, and clearly…there were no prints on the steering wheel belonging to the defendant.”

  “Ok Detective…one question…there was a great deal of blood on that bat handle…could you tell the court whose prints you found on the bat?”

  “The lab report showed that the prints of Jack Hornsby were on the bat.”

  “And were there other prints…the prints of the defendant?”

  “Objection…leading the witness.”

  “Objection, sustained.”

  “Ok, Detective the other prints belonged to whom?”

  “James Delements.”

  “Detective, how do you explain that… when the defendant himself testified that he took the bat from Hornsby and beat him with it?”

  “That would be consistent with what the lab reports show, because there was so much blood on the bat handle…the dead man was the last to have the bat.”

  There was a sudden buzz in the courtroom.

  “Order! Order in the court! Merrill slammed the gavel on the desk…one more outbreak of this type and I will clear the courtroom.”

  “Detective Grant, are you saying that the defendant did not touch the bat.”

  “No sir, I am saying that there was so much blood that was smeared over the handle that the lab was unable to find a print of the defendant.”

  “Detective Grant, let us be clear now, because if there was no print on the murder weapon…and there is blood of the defendant and the dead man…then the weapon would only show that both men had been hit with the bat… and that it may or may not have been the murder weapon?”

  “That is what I see, Mr. Halliburton.”

  “Your honor, based on the testimony from this expert, I move for a dismissal on the grounds that there is no murder weapon, which ties my client to the murder.”

  There was an immediate collapse of the lungs of the room. The end had come so unexpectedly, that all stood now waiting for an explanation as to why the trial had even occurred. There was a joyous outbreak around Joe Tough and… Buddy Quinn had even been spared an appearance in the courtroom for his testimony.

  “This court will take the motion under consideration and will rule on this matter on the 22nd day of December. Until then, the defendant Joseph Marshall is freed on his own recognizance. The jury is dismissed with the gratitude of this court. And, I wish to see counsel in my chambers…with the defendant!”

  In the judge’s chambers, Joe Tough watched the floor as Frank Halliburton stood at his arm. The judge removed his black robe and put on his suit coat before he spoke to Joe.

  “Joe, may I get you something to drink?”

  “Yeh…I very thirsty.”

  “Well, I know we have coffee, tea or Coca-Cola.”

  “Joe Tough want a Coke.”

  The judge’s secretary went for the coke and returned immediately.

  “Joe, I have asked you back here for two reasons, first I want to apologize to you on behalf of this court and our citizens for all that has been placed on you, for the inconvenience, for all the terrible publicity and most of all hurting you as we have…for this Joe I am truly sorry and I beg your forgiveness. Secondly Joe, it is my hope that you can put this behind you and enjoy the blessed season that is upon us, and let me wish you the most blessed holiday season.”

  The judge looked at Joe as he clutched his coke and looked at the floor. Frank Halliburton remained standing beside the chair in which the gentle man sat, and finally Frank spoke in the absence of Joe wanting to say anything.

  “Thank you Judge Merrill…on behalf of Joe and Buddy Quinn, I believe justice will be done and this event will be less a memory in their young lives and more an admonition for those of us who make our livelihoods doing the business of the public, to make certain that we put forth cases which punish the guilty and free the innocents.”

  “Mr. Sherwin, there are several major issues which you must deal with to the satisfaction of this court: and I am requesting that you have on my desk before Christmas Eve, a written report of why you moved in the face of evidence to the contrary for a Murder One charge; why you did not share with the defendants counsel and the Grand Jury, the information from forensics on the finger prints on the bat evidence; why you did not move for an indictment of James Clements who apparently beat Jack Hornsby to death.”

  Edwin Sherwin left the courtroom after meeting with Judge Merrill, he had more than his campaign on his mind…he now faced the serious allegation that he had tampered with evidence and knowingly charged an innocent man with a capital crime…he knew a stiff drink would help to soothe the flight of his chances for a new term.

  Jo
seph Marshall was a free man. Frank Halliburton promised him that he would soon go home, for good, with Father Hermann. Frank may have been a bit precipitous on this matter because there were those in the community preparing to give Joe Tough his own apartment and a new job in the city.

  “Do you want me to go away Father Hermann?” Joe asked the good priest as they drove back to the orphanage.

  “Joe, you will never be far from me…you must know that you will always be in my heart… and in the heart of each of the sisters who have loved you since you were a baby and don’t forget Joe, all the little boys that you have seen come and go here over all these years…just as they have passed on…gone out into the world to jobs, families and to a life beyond the orphanage, so too will you now move on.

  Joe, this is a wonderful opportunity for you to go out and be on your own…to be with other adults…to watch movies, go to ball games, earn your own money…set your own time to get up and go to bed.”

  “Well, if my Father thinks it good, then I do it for you…but if it not good, Joe Tough coming back to St. Joseph to work at laundry.”

  “That will be find with everybody Joe…but I know you are going to love your new place.”

  “Will I be with Father for Christmas?”

  “Every Christmas Joe for as long as you want.

  Historical Reference

  In the opening years of the 20th Century, a new party called Sinn Fein (Ourselves Alone) had been formed, denying the right of the English parliament to govern Ireland, and dedicated to the attainment of national self-government under the English crown. In the wake of the Easter Rising, Dubliners and the majority of Irishmen turned their backs on the Old Home Rule party and in the 1918 General Election voted for Sinn Fein, which by then had adopted and out-and-out policy of cutting all links with Britain. Conventional political means had been discredited, and although Sinn Fein was ostensively against violence, its connections with military leaders ensured that violence would soon be enshrined as the first principle of an independent Ireland.

  The Irish Volunteers changed their name to the Irish Republican Army and launched a guerrilla war on the British army and police. In response, the British raised their number of troops to 40,000, including a body of war veterans and rough elements nicknamed the “Black and Tans”. The Easter Rising that Pearce and Connelly dreamed of in 1916 now occurred in earnest. For two years the struggle continued, with the loss of some 1,300 lives and the destruction of property in many parts of the country, including Dublin, were the Custom House was fired by the IRA on the grounds that it was an enemy installation. The British Prime Minister, David Lloyd George, sought a solution that would satisfy the demand for Irish independence and at the same time prevent a new civil war erupting in the north, where the Protestants had been training their own Ulster Volunteers since 1913.

  In 1921, Lloyd George invited de Valera to negotiate a treaty, and five plenipotentiaries, led by the prominent Sinn Fieners Arthur Griffith and Michael Collins were sent to London the hammer out the terms. The treaty they signed, after prolonged discussion, established the 26 counties of southern Ireland as the Irish Free States, a self-governing Dominion within the British Empire. The members of the new parliament were to take the oath of allegiance to the British Crown. The six most heavily Protestant counties of the north, which had been given their own parliament the previous year, where left the option of joining the Dominion or remaining part of the United Kingdom.

  Confusion broke out in Dublin when the terms were announced. de Valera and two others in the cabinet refused to accept the treaty, chiefly over the issue of the oath of allegiance. The Dail passed it, de Valera resigned, and Arthur Griffith became provisional president, pending a General Election to ratify the constitution. Dublin Castle, the Visregal Lodge and the barracks, which for 700 years had been the center of British rule, were handed over to the new state. But the momentum of Irish rebellion was impossible to stop. The minority who opposed the treaty embraced violence and again launched the campaign for an independent republic. During the next few months, in an atmosphere of growing disorder, recalcitrant republicans barricaded themselves inside the four courts building, which housed the Irish law courts, and seized several other buildings in Dublin.

  For 700 years’ Irish rebels had fought English rulers. Now Irish rebels were to fight Irish rulers. In June 1922 government troops bombarded the Four Courts and fighting spread throughout the Free State. Two years of Anglo-Irish war were followed by two years of Irish civil war. Those parts of O’Connell Streets that had survived in 1916 were destroyed. Between 1919 and 1921, the British government had hanged or shot 24 Irishmen for taking up arms in the struggle for an independent Ireland; in 1922 and 1923, the new Irish government executed more than three times that number for the same reason.

  In a dramatic reversal, de Valera re-entered politics in 1927…took the oath of allegiance to the British Crown, over which he had previously objected and so many of his countrymen had lost their lives…but what would you expect of a man with an Italian name. In 1932 he became the Prime Minister by renouncing force and thus remained in power for the better part of the next 35 years. In 1936, taking advantage of England’s abdication crisis, instigated by an Irish divorcée, the Dail passed an Act whereby the British Crown disappeared from the Irish constitution…” what God has joined together, let no man put asunder!” In 1948, the 26 independent southern counties were formally declared a republic.

  Many of the dreams of 1916 are unfulfilled. The six counties of Northern Ireland remain a part of England…Dublin still lives between two national histories, and her past is the story of an overlap. The result is unique…but not unexpected: not Irish in the sense that the cities of Cork or Galway are Irish; certainly not English. Dublin does not fit into a stylized role, nor into any doctrinaire interpretation of Irish history. Perhaps the best that can be said of Dublin… is that it was bastardized by the British and the Protestants…stolen from the Irish…but Dublin made the best of it, in otherwise difficult times.

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  Today, Ireland is one island and the six counties which make up the English province of Protestant Northern Ireland are geographically part of that island. The division is so arbitrary that even the commonly used name of the Province-Ulster-is imprecise but then that might be expected when you think of the number of names identified with England: United Kingdom; Britain; The British Isle; The Crown. Historically Ulster includes Cavan, Donegal and Monaghan as well as the six counties of Antrim, Armagh, Down, Formanagh, Londonderry and Tyrone. The border is there but the character and beauty of the landscape moves freely across it. The green hills are neither Catholic nor Protestant, neither Republican nor Loyalist for those who have owned them or given them as bounty… were merely passing through The Emerald Isle.

  More than anything it is the radiant beauty of this Northern Irish countryside that accentuates the interdenominational-strife that the province has so long endured. But lest we fall into a morass, let us remember that it is not the land, nor the beauty that gives a country it’s personality…Britain (covered in a later chapter) is, as green, has as much water, open spaces abounding in magnificent parks and gardens…rivers and streams… but it’s people are a cold and calculating lot who have placed their brand on its ass…making it the place that is undeniably British, or United Kingdom, or the British Isle or England, The Crown.

  Enmity is out of place in so welcoming a countryside. Away from Belfast or Londonderry the physical scars are relatively few and incidents, tragic as they are, seldom impinge on the life of country people. Indeed, many people find Northern Ireland more peaceful than some of the world’s more sought-after tourist areas.

  The restful nature of the Irish scene has long been recognized. There is a special quality of light, which tints the landscape a unique and unbelievable green, softens the outline of the mountains, clarifies water and whitens the long, uncrowded beaches. Not to be mistaken for the light in Tuscany, w
hich transcends the morning on the Apennines, nor the mist breaking the fog into tiny droplets on the bluegrass and sun slicing from the east on a plush meadow were mare and foal graze in Goshen, Kentucky.

  If events have not altered the countryside, they have certainly not changed the people…nor the spirit that is unmistakingly Irish: they are still, by and large, the gentle, friendly, ever hospitable, fun loving, entertaining, witty rascals whose indifference to punctuality is renown to those who have trains to catch and other parts of Ireland to see.

  Few capital cities can have so much access to so much beautiful countryside. Go in any direction and find luminous attractions that become etched into the memory, framing the vision that is Ireland. To the north of Belfast there are the mountains and glens of Antrim with the coast road literally within a stone’s throw of the sea all the way from Larne to Cushendall, 25 miles or 40 kilometers of paradise-and then, near Portrush, natures outsized experiment in crystallography: Giant’s Causeway (the namesake of the great thoroughbred stallion standing in Kentucky). Legend asserts that Finn McCool, an Irish giant, built the Giant’s Causeway in order to cross into Scotland. Those less imaginative fellows, the geologists, dismiss this colourful theory and insist that it was formed when a huge sheet of molten basalt cooled several million years ago. Most of the pillars are six-sided but some are three-seven-eight or even nine-sided. Surely only an Irish giant with a name like Finn McCool could have been so eccentric. Regardless something hot occurred…and something cool happened.

  To the west is Lough Neagh, the largest lake in the Isles and almost as full of legends as it is of water. To the south are the mountains of Mourne, which everyone must know, and of which every Irishman sings, sweeps down to the sea. To the east Belfast Lough, opening out like a great horn of plenty with the seaside resorts of Bangor and Carrickfergus on its shores and Mew Island at its entrance with one of the most powerful lighthouses in the world to guide ships down the 15 mile or 24 kilometer channel to Belfast.