Veil of Doubt, page 33
“You most certainly aren’t going to sell me out?”
“I most certainly will,” Lara affirmed.
Lilith leaned back and crossed her arms. “Go right ahead, sister. And I’ll tell the judge about Charlie and Aunt Liza and the boys. And while you may be successful in pinning Charlie on Randy, and perhaps you’ll even convince them that you eliminated Aunt Liza out of love and to end her suffering, you’ll have a tough time explaining Henry and George.”
“You know I had no choice. George was already developing a mouth. They would have become monsters like their father. And they would control every aspect of their mother’s life when they came of age. I couldn’t let it happen. I wouldn’t let it happen.”
Lilith scoffed. “And you judge me.”
“I’m tired of arguing with you,” Lara said. “I understand you hate me and are upset about the death of your lover, but we’ve got bigger troubles.”
“You don’t understand at all. Randy Moore was the only man who was ever kind to me. He was decent and he was gentle. What we shared was—I don’t know how to describe it. It was special.”
“I don’t rightly care how special he made you feel. Right now, I need to think.” Lara brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed her brow. “I need to think how to get Emily out of this if she is convicted.”
“Emily, Emily, Emily. It’s always Emily with you! Well, what about Lilith? What about what Lilith needs?”
Lara lifted her head and looked at Lilith, a seriousness in her eyes. “You still don’t get it, do you? We’re sisters, Lilith. And what have I always told you? All we have is each other.”
Chapter 38
Sunday, October 27, 1872
Pacing back and forth with the draft of his closing argument in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, Powell had difficulty concentrating on his speech as his discovery in Ol’ Pat’s files and Dr. Moore’s suicide preoccupied his mind. It was his fourth coffee that evening. Not that he needed the caffeine to stay awake. His anxiety was doing a fine job of that.
As he rehearsed his oratory, Janet’s comment from the night before rang in his ears from seemingly nowhere: “Dr. Moore blaming himself for something that wasn’t his fault.” He stopped midpace. That’s the question, isn’t it, Poe? Who’s to blame? Setting his mug down, he took the papers in both hands, rereading the summation he had spent weeks preparing.
“It’s not right,” he said aloud, tossing the papers on his desk. The jury needs someone to blame. Without the truth to guide him, he was lost. He interlocked his fingers on top of his head and began pacing again, searching for the words to convince at least one juror that Mrs. Lloyd was innocent. As he walked back and forth over the floor, his fatigued mind returned to his imagined vision of Moore at the end of a rope. Of Alice’s contorted face hanging from the lamp. And the crumbling skeleton of the Lloyd boy. The sunken eyes of little Maud on her deathbed. Bo’s blond hair floating in the springhouse pool. His chubby hands folded over his chest as he lay in his coffin. Powell could not stop the reel playing in his head, unable to free himself from guilt and doubt.
“Dear God, why?” he asked. He closed his eyes, silent tears welling and rolling down the hollows of his cheeks.
“Why?” he sobbed and fell to his knees, overwhelmed by exhaustion and the burden he had carried for so long. Minutes passed as he knelt on the rug, head down, weeping.
Emily’s words of faith came to him: “We may not understand the Lord’s ways, but we must trust His worth.”
“. . . trust His worth,” he repeated, lifting his chin, his hurt softening.
“We must have faith, Mr. Harrison,” she had said.
Faith . . .
Powell clasped his hands together and brought them to his chest.
“Our Father, who art in heaven,” he began hesitantly, interlocking his fingers and bowing his head. “Hallowed be Thy name . . .” At the close of the Lord’s Prayer, Powell shut his eyes tight. “Father in heaven, if You cannot give me truth, then please, Lord, grant me the wisdom to do Your Will.”
When he finished praying, he opened his eyes and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his tears, and stood from the floor. He looked over at his desk, where his closing argument was strewn over the surface, his notes and papers in disarray. The coffee mug sat at the desk’s edge next to the sugar bowl and pot of coffee Janet had left for him. He noticed spilled sugar from when he spooned it into his last cup. Walking closer, he paused, looking at the white granulate scattered over the polished wood. He ran his index finger through it, lost in thought.
Where to assign the blame? he pondered as he studied the crystals that had stuck to his fingertip. Glancing up, his eyes caught the framed cabinet card of his daughters on a shelf behind the desk.
“Blame,” he said aloud.
He held his gaze on the photograph for a moment before looking back at the sugar on his finger and on the desk. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the heavens as the answer came and a new strategy formed in his mind.
Chapter 39
Monday, October 28, 1872
The skies had grayed again, and a bitter wind rattled the weights in the sashes of the courthouse windows. In his customary dark suit, his watch chain glimmering over his breast, J. Mortimer Kilgour rose to his feet and approached the box where the jury was assembled.
“May it please the court and you, gentlemen of the jury,” Kilgour said, his voice booming. “While you are called upon today to deliver on your oath and solemn duty—solemn as the grave and as momentous as life itself—to extend the shield of law to prevent wrong to the prisoner, you are also called to extend that same shield of law to protect the people of the Commonwealth of Virginia.
“On March 21 of this year, the prisoner, Mrs. Emily Lloyd, was living in this city with the victim, Maud, who was three years of age. The child was taken ill and within seventy-two hours was dead. The child’s guardian, Mr. Sam Orrison, suggested that the prisoner agree to a postmortem examination to relieve any suspicion. Mrs. Lloyd refused. Upon further insistence the next day, she at last agreed, and a postmortem examination and coroner’s inquest was conducted. The results of the postmortem analysis show one and one half grains of white arsenic present in the stomach of Maud Lloyd at the time of her death. The jury of the county found an indictment against her for murder. The charge was that Mrs. Lloyd administered arsenic to her little daughter Maud, thereby poisoning her. These are the unfortunate circumstances that have brought us here today.”
Kilgour paused, scanning the faces of the jurors.
“For you to find Mrs. Lloyd guilty of the charge of murder, you must first decide if Maud Lloyd died from arsenical poisoning and, second, was it Mrs. Lloyd who administered that deadly drug. Dr. Cross addressed the symptoms of arsenical poisoning. Dr. Moore testified to the history of the child’s sickness and her symptoms. The similarity is undeniable. Dr. Moore also testified that he did not suspect poisoning and thought her death had resulted from congestion of the stomach. But when the stomach was taken out and held to the light, Dr. Cross and Dr. Moore both informed you that the stomach presented no trace of that disease. And while nothing pains me more than to slander the reputation of a gentleman, especially in light of this weekend’s sad circumstances, I am compelled to remind you of that which is relevant. During these proceedings, we learned of Dr. Moore’s romantic involvement with the prisoner, thus offering a possible explanation for why he was so adamant in his declaration that little Maud’s cause of death was stomach congestion. A most chivalrous act to protect the woman for whom he had such tender feelings.”
The entire town, including the men on the jury, knew of Dr. Moore’s suicide. Kilgour conveniently cleared his throat as if fighting his own emotion. Powell watched the jurors’ reaction to Kilgour’s theatrics; they were clearly buying in.
“Professor Tonry, an expert chemist from the city of Baltimore, explained to you in great detail his process for analyzing the stomach and its contents that were taken from Maud Lloyd during the postmortem examination. One and a half grains of white arsenic were found. Even experts of the defense concurred with the conclusion that white arsenic was present in Maud Lloyd’s stomach. Further, defense expert Dr. Taylor indicated that he was nearly certain that arsenic was, indeed, the cause of death.
“Dr. Cross explained that arsenic would have only been in the stomach for a few hours before passing to the liver and spleen, where it would have been absorbed. Through an unfortunate circumstance, the county court ruled the analysis of those organs inadmissible in this proceeding. The fact that so much arsenic was present in the stomach indicates that Maud was administered the deadly substance just hours before her demise.
“The defense has tried to convince you that the arsenic in Maud’s stomach might have come from Dr. Moore’s bismuth or from the counter at his pharmacy or even from the wallpaper in the child’s room. But the defense was unable to quantify the arsenic from Dr. Moore’s bismuth jar. And while they did quantify the arsenic in samples obtained by defense counsel’s sister and by Mrs. Greene, how are we to trust that those samples were not altered? Are we to believe Mrs. Greene, a friend of the defendant, who in this very court proved herself to be a liar? How far might Miss Harrison go to protect her family’s good name and her late father’s law firm’s reputation? How much trust should we put in the words of women, especially women with such conflicting interests?”
Anger rose in Powell’s chest as he listened to Kilgour malign his sister’s character. He glanced over at Matt, whose face was all but blistering. Powell was certain that Kilgour’s insults would destroy whatever friendship remained between the two.
“And let’s not forget that Dr. Ellzey and the Harrison brothers are first cousins.” Kilgour paused and raised a brow before continuing. “What is most peculiar is that if we are to believe that these bismuth samples contained arsenic, the defense’s own calculations do not account for the quantity of arsenic found in the contents of Maud’s stomach. Are we to believe that one-sixteenth of a grain of arsenic per grain of bismuth equates to one and a half grains of arsenic in her stomach? Their arithmetic and their logic, gentlemen, does not compute.
“The defense also suggested that the wallpaper in Maud’s room contained arsenic and that somehow a little green trellis was the culprit that took Maud Lloyd’s life. But did the defense present evidence that proved how that wallpaper ended up in Maud Lloyd’s stomach? Of course not!”
Kilgour was on a roll, his eyes wide, his expression animated. “And let’s not forget their bismuth theory. The bismuth is responsible! Again, what proof did they provide that Maud Lloyd died from an overdose of bismuth other than a little blue line purportedly witnessed on the gum of a corpse? The answer, gentlemen, is that the defense proved no other cause of death. Because the only cause of death was one and a half grains of arsenic in the stomach of little Maud Lloyd.
“Now that we have proven to you that Maud Lloyd was poisoned by white arsenic, the question becomes, who is responsible? Who had the means and the motive? And, gentlemen, all fingers point in one direction.”
Kilgour lifted an arm with his index finger extended and pointed at Emily. “It is she, gentlemen. The person a child trusts most to protect her from the world. Her mother.” He stared at Emily for a moment before dropping his arm and turning his attention back to the jury.
“Not more than a week before the death of each of her children, Mrs. Lloyd purchased arsenic. She said the arsenic was for rats in her home, yet not one witness could attest to seeing any rats. And how odd is it that these supposed rats only needed to be poisoned within days of the poisoning of her children? And then there is the missing page from Dr. Moore’s register. Coincidence, or the work of chivalry again?
“Mrs. Lloyd had access to the child and, more importantly, access to the murder weapon. In a town suspicious of foul play in the deaths of her other children, she simply traveled to Goresville for her weapon of choice. But why, you ask? Why would a mother kill her child? The answer, gentleman, is as old as the ages. Money. And a man.
“Mrs. Lloyd gained nearly one thousand dollars from the death of her daughter. Mr. Gill told us the prisoner intended to run off to Chicago once she settled her affairs. Mr. Gill didn’t know that she had two beautiful daughters because Mrs. Lloyd had no intention of traveling to Chicago with her children. Mrs. Lloyd wanted to be free of her duty. And she found the perfect method to relieve her of the burden: white arsenic.
“Gentlemen of the jury, over the past week, you have heard testimony that proves without a doubt that the defendant, Emily Lloyd, willfully and intentionally poisoned her daughter Maud to escape her God-given responsibility as a mother so that she might selfishly pursue a new life with a new man in a new city, wearing a new dress with a pocketbook full of blood money. And the defense has offered no proof to definitively counter these truths. It is your solemn duty to deliver a verdict of guilty to protect the people of the commonwealth, and it is your moral duty to avenge the murder of little Maud, whose spirit cannot rest until her killer is punished and justice is served.” Kilgour bowed to the jurymen and took his seat.
The courtroom was silent. The windows rattled in another gust of wind, and the draft in the stovepipe caused coals to crack. All eyes were now fixed on Powell, who, oblivious to their stares, sat with closed eyes.
Powell drew a long stream of air deep into his lungs. With his exhale, he released all doubt and freed himself from any misgivings. His body was merely a vessel to deliver a performance. As always, he would orchestrate the final act from a place outside himself, critiquing his every word, his every gesture, and making the necessary adjustments based on his read of the jurors’ reactions and emotions. Opening his eyes, he rose from his chair and fastened the top button on his jacket. He was ready.
“Gentlemen of the jury,” Powell began as he stood facing them in the middle of the courtroom. “Some of you I know. And many of you I had never met before this proceeding. While I grew up in this county, I removed myself to Staunton after my studies and remained in that great city until only a few short years ago, when I returned home to start a family. I have two daughters, and the oldest, Nannie, is now about the same age as little Maud was when she died. And I had a son who was three years old when my wife and I lost him two summers ago, the same summer Mrs. Lloyd lost her boys. Since I took this case, I have thought often about the tragic accident that claimed my son’s life. What if I had lost all of my children? My entire family? This case has made me realize just how fortunate I am. To still have my little girls after losing my son. To still have a family.
“Family,” he said as he slowly approached the jury box. “Mrs. Emily Lloyd, too, had a family. A family that she cared for, that she fawned over, doted on, and loved. Yet she will never go home to them like I do. Like you do. One by one, the fates took them, first her husband from heart failure, then her two boys from mistakenly eating poison berries, then Annie by cholera, and then, finally, poor little Maud. Can you imagine her grief? Can you imagine if you lost all of your children? Or all of your brothers and sisters? Everyone you loved suddenly stripped from you?” Powell looked over at Emily, her head bowed, shoulders slumped, softly weeping. “My heart breaks thinking about the pain Emily Lloyd holds in her breast.” He looked back at the jurors. “Because Mrs. Lloyd, too, is a victim.”
Powell looked each man in the eye as he spoke. “Mr. Kilgour just told you that the defense failed to meet its burden in proving Maud Lloyd’s cause of death.” Clenching a fist, he leaned forward, his eyes piercing and filled with indignance. “The defense has no such burden! It is the duty of the prosecution and the prosecution alone to determine cause of death and prove beyond any reasonable doubt that a murder occurred. It is my job to defend Mrs. Lloyd’s innocence. And Mr. Kilgour’s job to prove otherwise. Gentlemen, Mr. Kilgour and Mr. Orr have proved nothing!
“Mr. Kilgour and Mr. Orr would have you believe that one and a half grains of arsenic was found in little Maud’s stomach. And were that a fact, then I would be before you making a much different argument. But one and a half grains was computed by proportional analysis and is based entirely on Professor Tonry’s ability to accurately determine the weight equivalent to a few granulates of sugar.”
Powell pulled a small envelope from his pocket and opened it. Carefully, he emptied the contents. Several tiny grains of white granulate spilled onto the railing of the jury box.
“Steady there,” he said, speaking to the sugar before looking at the jurymen. “According to the prosecution’s expert, these granulates together weigh thirty-five milligrams.” Powell jumped into the air, and as he landed, he stomped both feet on the floor. The men on the jury startled, as did everyone else in the courtroom. The granulate moved about on the railing. “That was a rumble, gentlemen.” He stomped his foot and the granulate moved again. “Imagine the continuous jar of wagons.” He stomped again. “And heavy vehicles.” Another stomp. “And trains.” Powell stomped a final time. The granulate had moved around so much that one had fallen from the railing onto the floor. “This is the basis upon which the prosecution determined that there were one and a half grains of arsenic in the stomach of Maud Lloyd. On the weight of five minuscule pieces of moving granulate.”
With a hand, he wiped the rail, knocking the remaining sugar to the floor.
“Did Maud Lloyd die from poisoning?” he pondered, pacing in front of them, the fingertips of each hand pressed together as he spoke. “Most probably. Was it from arsenic? Possibly. Was it from the arsenic in the bismuth? Maybe. Could little Maud have eaten the crumbling poisoned wallpaper because the flowers and green leaves looked like penny candy?”
