Confronting Murderous Men, page 11
On 11 April 1928, a jury was enlisted to decide if Kelly was sane or insane and therefore fit or unfit to plead. The Chief Justice presided and the Crown prosecutor was Mr A A Wolff. Kelly was represented by Mr F Curran. This course was taken under the Criminal Code, which required a jury to decide a conflicted claim of insanity, and if they found the accused as insane he was to be dealt with under the laws relating to insane persons. Mr Curran asked the Crown to admit that Kelly had already spent a period in an asylum. Mr Wolff told the court Kelly had been in an asylum in Dublin and later, in another in Brisbane, where he claimed he was King George and Sir George Beresford, an Irish peer.
Medical opinion differed; Dr Bentley, inspector general of the insane, who examined Kelly, was of the opinion he was insane. Kelly told Bentley that a voice had told him to kill and he had to obey the voice. He told of leaving the asylum in Dublin in 1897 or 1898 and had gone to sea. He was an able seaman on several different ships, but could only remember the name of one, the Nemesis, on which he served in Australian waters. The Nemesis was wrecked at Sydney Heads and he was the only man saved. He claimed he was born in America but could not state his age. The court was not told that the Nemesis had indeed sunk in a gale off Port Hacking, several miles south of Sydney, in 1904. There were no survivors.
Kelly had told his counsel that he had complained of having threadworms for which he was given no treatment in gaol. He believed the worms were now through his whole system and had reached his head. He claimed Sergeant Mark had appeared to him in the flesh in Fremantle Gaol and had told him to press his hand. When he pressed the hand, a red light appeared in the vicinity of the stomach, where he had shot the sergeant. The sergeant then said, ‘Press again,’ and a blue light appeared. Sergeant Mark told him that he was in heaven and was happy, and he thanked Kelly for sending him there. The sergeant had said that he would soon be up above but would not be hanged. He would get up above by means of dope, and when he arrived, he would be showing three red lights.
Dr Kerr, the gaol doctor at Fremantle, told the court he had observed Kelly in gaol over the last five years and he had never mentioned voices. He had not known him to suffer from delusions beyond certain ideas he was being persecuted by the gaol administrators. He believed him to be a true instinctive criminal and since the shooting of Sergeant Mark he had made no claim of hearing voices who commanded him to do so. He did say that he had bought a gun to shoot those who obstructed him when he wanted liquor when intoxicated.
Dr Donald McKenzie, the Perth District medical officer, told the court that Kelly’s actions in the shooting of Sergeant Mark, and prior to it, showed a purpose so well maintained as to put them quite beyond the actions of a lunatic. They were deliberate and showed comparatively clear reasoning.
Dr Bertram Nairn told of Kelly being admitted to Perth Hospital on 17 February 1928 and placed in the observation ward. He was violent and restraint straps were used to control him.
In summing up to the jury, the Chief Justice mentioned that when Kelly appeared before him seven years before he gave him an indeterminate sentence. The clue being that he didn’t claim insanity at that time. The jury retired and returned a verdict finding Kelly sane.
A new jury was empanelled, and the trial proper began. The evidence was much the same as it had been at the inquest. Lindsay Anderson, a motor mechanic, said that the second shot was fired before the scuffle between Sergeant Mark and Kelly. The third shot was fired during the struggle. Stephen Timewell, the licensee of the hotel, claimed the second shot was fired as the two men struggled, but before they fell on the boxes in the corner of the bar. Joseph Henry Rowe claimed that Mark struck at the accused before the second shot was fired. The revolver went off the second time as the men were falling to the floor. Under cross-examination Rowe said that when the shot was fired at the ceiling, the accused could just as easily have turned it on Mark.
At this stage the Crown prosecutor was given permission to read Sergeant Mark’s dying deposition, which clearly stated the shot that hit him was fired at him as he approached and not during the subsequent struggle. The confusion over the number of shots fired was understandable and it appears that the first shot at the barmen, which hit the mirror, may have been seen in isolation. The second shot after that was the one that struck the sergeant – the third one hit the ceiling.
The following day the last of the evidence was heard before Mr Curran addressed the jury, pressing the view that his client was insane and the gun had fired accidentally. The judge summed up and the jury retired for an hour, returning with a verdict of guilty to wilful murder. When asked if he wished to say anything Kelly addressed the court for 30 minutes, asserting his innocence, his surprise at the verdict and prejudice against him, particularly when his previous record was disclosed to the jury. The Chief Justice said he knew of nothing that had been said or done that in any way was detrimental to the accused’s trial. It is true that the accused’s past record – a very bad one, and much worse than the jury had been informed of – had been referred to. That was done entirely in the accused’s interest for the purpose of proving he was insane. That failed, and rightly so. When he had sentenced the accused to an indeterminate sentence, he never expected to see him again, but unfortunately that was not to be so. The prisoner was sentenced to death.
Just two weeks later, Cabinet met and decided to commute the sentence of death to penal servitude for life. On 29 May 1928, Kelly was removed from Fremantle Gaol to be confined at the Claremont Hospital for the insane. Two medical practitioners had determined he was insane. Had he remained in prison to serve his life sentence, his possible release after 15 years, if his conduct had been good, could have been effected.
The 1920s was not the time for secure confinement of the criminally insane, and the legal process determined they would be housed in a hospital for the insane in Western Australia – a protocol not favoured by medical authorities. Nonetheless, the criminally insane were confined under lock and key. However, in the 12 months from 14 October 1928 – the year of Kelly’s incarceration there – no less than eight inmates managed to escape – one of them three times. Edward Kelly, too, was becoming restless and on 8 October 1929, he seized an opportunity for freedom when he was being moved from one room to another. He quietly slipped into thin air and was a free man. The police were alerted, and a favoured cliché informed the public they would leave no stone unturned in their efforts to find the escapee.
During his absence, Kelly sent letters to newspapers, particularly The Daily News, which were examined and found to be authentic. In them he outlined grievances and claimed that if the letter was published in the newspaper, he would surrender himself the following day. He told of attending children’s day at the show and of having a good time although he was nearly detected on a couple of occasions. He also claimed to have befriended three little girls, who provided him with food on the promise that he would give himself up. The truth of this remained a mystery.
The newspaper duly printed the letter and on the morning of 16 October 1929, Kelly made his way to the Claremont Hospital, avoiding the press and the curious by approaching from the rear. He hid in bushes fearing he might be shot, but canny veteran newsman Ted ‘Cherry’ Handcock, who had guessed Kelly’s strategy, found him at the rear entrance. He told him he would go into the hospital with him, linking arms. If there was to be any shooting, they would both be shot. Kelly hesitated but agreed to go with him. After posing for photographs by the famed Ron Monro, Kelly surrendered to hospital staff and Handcock got his scoop. Kelly had been at large for nine days.
Ted ‘Cherry’ Handcock (L) and Edward Kelly (R). The Mirror, 19 October, 1921, p.1. Trove , NLA
On 27 March 1931, Kelly again found the need to be free. He tied blankets together and lowered himself from his window. He was missed soon after and a search of the hospital found him hiding in the grounds two hours later.
On 7 November 1936, Kelly, now 64 years old, escaped from Claremont again, this time with fellow inmate John Edward Rowe, a sexual predator. They were missed at 11 pm; it was Rowe’s second escape in a month after he was missing for a few weeks before being recaptured. This time the government was on thin ice and quickly set up a commission of inquiry to examine the escape and the general administration of the Claremont facility. It was to be chaired by magistrate, Mr Moseley, who was experienced in these types of commissions.
Before his escape Kelly wrote to The Daily News complaining of overcrowding in the hospital and other issues. He asked that the letter be forwarded to Canon Collick of Fremantle, his only visitor, who called on him every month. The letter appears to have been written in anticipation of a planned escape, as Collick had observed a darkening of Kelly’s otherwise optimistic demeanour on his last visit to him days before his escape.
By 11 November, both Kelly and Rowe were recaptured in bushland at Mundaring after arousing the interest of two men who saw them in a quarry. Police searched the surrounds and found them lying in a dry creek bed. Kelly said, ‘You have got us; we are not armed.’ They were arrested and taken to Perth to be interviewed. Kelly told his interrogators that he and Rowe had dressed as women and had travelled the day from West Perth to West Midland after paying their fares. They were found in possession of a sugar bag containing food, which they claimed to have bought. They also had a rug that had been stolen from a car. Now wearing men’s civilian clothes, Kelly chose to continue wearing a woman’s hat. He claimed he had picked the locks at the hospital with a piece of wire, something that might have interested Mr Moseley. Two warders were dismissed over the escape and were later reinstated at lower ranks after union agitation.
Edward Nicholas Kelly, Edward English, Henry Kelly, William Young. Edward Lee, Arthur Kelly, Michael Desmond, Henry English and ‘Kelly the Mug’ – all one and the same – died at Claremont Hospital on 21 September 1957, aged 82, after 31 years in custody – give or take his occasional leave of absence.
CHAPTER 8
1928
Foot Constable Cyril Fletcher Clayton
Adelaide, South Australia
Cyril and Hilda Clayton
It seemed to be a question that was never asked. Why did he run? Harry Aldridge claimed he was a teetotaller, but that was the only evidence of his state of sobriety. Robert John Henry ‘Harry’ Aldridge was a cross-country jockey of some repute, who was born in Dubbo in 1901 but hailed from Melbourne. He had spent several seasons at the tracks of South Australia and owned a Studebaker 4 motor car that had seen better days – described in 1928 as being about ten years old. Its brakes – both pedal and handbrake – worked by contraction and expansion on the rear wheels and were badly worn. The warning horn, when it worked, was not loud enough to be effective, but the vehicle’s condition wasn’t the only factor in the death of Foot Constable Cyril Fletcher Clayton, who was run over while performing bicycle patrol in West Terrace, Adelaide, in the late afternoon of Christmas Day 1928.
A 1918 Studebaker Light 4
Accompanied by Constable Edward Spiers, Clayton had ridden west in Gilbert Street. When they reached the T-intersection at West Terrace, they turned right, keeping to their left because a car was turning right from West Terrace into Gilbert Street. Spiers checked to his left and saw a car coming out of Bay Road, also known as Anzac Highway. Spiers saw that there was plenty of time to continue to cross and turn into West Terrace to travel north. Both men were riding slowly, with Clayton about 1.8 metres in front on the left, about 1.5 metres from the kerb, when Spiers heard a revving motor and was passed on his left by Aldridge driving his Studebaker. When about 9 metres north of Gilbert Street, the Studebaker collided with the rear of Clayton’s bicycle, continuing on and rolling the constable under along the length of the car and ejecting him and his bicycle at the rear after travelling about 16 metres. The car travelled north along West Terrace for another 31 metres before stopping. Spiers, who had immediately attended to his injured colleague, called for someone to ring for an ambulance while holding Clayton’s head, which was bleeding heavily. Police instructor Constable Home came to his assistance and held Clayton as Spiers called for the driver of the vehicle, but no-one answered. He recorded the registration number in his notebook.
Other witnesses saw Aldridge leave the driver’s seat and run back towards the injured Clayton and the crowd that had gathered, then run off in the opposite direction toward Sturt Street, which ran parallel to Gilbert and a block north of it. He was seen to return soon after and drive off. No passengers were in the car when it left the scene.
Clarence Geraghty, a driver, was in the yard at the Elephant and Castle Hotel on the eastern side of West Terrace and opposite the point of impact. He was with William Grunert, who called, ‘Gee, look, he has got him.’ He looked across to the western side of West Terrace and saw two constables riding their bicycles north on the western side between the tram track and the western kerb. He saw Spiers on the right and a little behind Clayton. He told of seeing the car hit the constable on the left, rolling him under the car several times until he was caught and dragged before being discharged from the rear. He ran towards the scene and saw the constable on the roadway bleeding badly. His mangled bike was nearby. He saw the driver of the car, which had travelled on about 40 metres in his estimation, get out of the driver’s seat. No-one else was in the car. Spiers wrote the number of the car in his notebook and asked among the crowd if the driver was present. No-one replied. It was then he noticed that the car had gone. He thought it had been present for only about four minutes. He did not hear the car horn at any stage.
William Grunert told the same story as his companion, adding that the car speed did not slacken after rolling the constable along and did not sound its horn. He saw the driver get out of the car and inspect the front of it. Soon after, the car had gone.
Thirteen-year-old John Broad of West Terrace told of being in front of Boyle’s shop on West Terrace and hearing a crash near the Elephant and Castle Hotel. He saw a car pull up near a tram pole. He ran towards the constable lying on the road and saw another constable holding his head, which was covered in blood. He saw a man get out of the driver’s seat, look back toward the constable and turn to run across West Terrace towards Sturt Street. The boy then walked up to the car. Soon after he saw the same man come back to the car as he was walking back towards the constable and when he looked again the car had gone.
Yet another witness, Hyla Edwin Staker, motorman, told of driving his tramcar north along West Terrace about 7.40 pm on Christmas Day, when he noticed a dark car coming from the direction of Bay Road and turn into West Terrace in a northerly direction. After taking the curve in Bay Road it came across towards the tram car he was driving. About that time, he saw the two constables riding across West Terrace, opposite Gilbert street. The deceased had looked in the direction of the car then sped up to go to the western kerb of West Terrace. He saw the other constable ride a little further back and they both rode along, north, for about 8 yards (7 metres). He saw Clayton look around again in the direction of the oncoming car and he appeared to stoop or duck over the handlebars of his cycle. The car then collided with the police cyclist. Staker stopped the tram and ran over to the constable, where he saw Constable Spiers holding his colleague’s head. He took down the number of the car and asked Spiers if he should drive Clayton to hospital, but was told an ambulance was in the way.
Edward Frederick Kuhnd saw the collision as he rode his motorcycle and sidecar south in West Terrace. He corroborated the statements of the other witnesses, all of whom had said Aldridge had driven his car at a very fast speed of 30 to 35 miles per hour (48 to 56 kilometres per hour).
Aldridge later would be the only one stating his speed to be 18 to 20 miles per hour (28 to 32 kilometres per hour). No skid marks were present at the scene.
Constable Clayton had been taken to Adelaide Hospital in a very poor condition suffering a fractured skull and multiple injuries to his body. He passed away shortly after 10 pm on Christmas night.
About 11.15 pm that night, detectives Herman, Evans and plainclothes constables McConnell and Packman saw Aldridge driving his Studebaker along Melton Street, Broadway Estate and stop near Mitchell’s stables. He was approached and questioned.
Herman: ‘We have been informed that you knocked a constable over with your car in West Terrace tonight about a quarter to eight.’
Aldridge: ‘Yes, that is right.’
Herman: ‘That constable is not expected to live. Why did you not stop and give your name and address?’
Aldridge: ‘I did stop; no-one asked me for my name and address.’
Herman: ‘Is this the car you were driving when you ran over the constable?’
Aldridge: ‘Yes, they turned out of Gilbert street into West Terrace and one of the constables came across in front of me.’
Herman: ‘I want you to come to the detective office and bring your car with you.’
Aldridge: ‘I have not got any petrol.’
Herman: ‘You drove here and can get some at a petrol station.’
Aldridge: ‘I have not got any money to get any.’
Herman agreed to pay for some petrol. Herman sat in the front of the car and Packman in the back while Aldridge drove.
At the detective office, Aldridge was cautioned and Herman said, ‘Constable Clayton died at about 10 o’clock tonight. What time did you leave home tonight to come to town?’
Aldridge: ‘About ten or quarter past seven.’
Herman: ‘Was anyone with you?’
Aldridge: ‘Yes, Joe Riordan was with me.’
Herman: ‘Where did you pick up Riordan?’
Aldridge: ‘He works at Mitchell’s with me and we both left home together.’
Herman: ‘What happened when you got to West Terrace?’
