Veil of Doubt, page 8
It had been hot that Sunday last July, and the exterior doors had been opened to allow what little air stirred outside to waft into the house. After church services, Janet and the girls had gone to Morrisworth for the afternoon, while Powell had returned home with their three-year-old son, Bo, who hadn’t been feeling well. Janet had suggested they all return home together, but Powell had been insistent she go with his sisters. He had a big trial starting that coming week and could use the time to work on his opening statement, he had explained. He remembered the skeptical look on his wife’s face before she acquiesced. “Keep a close eye on him,” she had said.
Since the servants didn’t work on the Sabbath, Powell and Bo had the house to themselves. Upon their arrival home, Powell put the child down for a nap before setting to work in his study. Engrossed in writing his argument, hours had passed before he looked at his watch and left his desk to check on his son.
Powell choked back a sob as he relived the moment. His panic when he saw the child’s empty crib. His desperation as he searched the house, calling his son’s name. His fear when he saw the opened springhouse door. His horror when he discovered his son’s body floating face down alongside his favorite toy, the wooden sailboat Powell had given him a few weeks before.
Powell drew a long, deep breath to quell the guilt that knotted his gut and the grief that serrated his heart. He still didn’t know who’d left the high latch of the springhouse door unfastened. Or how the child had climbed over the railing of his crib and walked past the study without his notice. None of those details mattered. God had failed him. And he knew who was to blame.
Opening his eyes, he lifted his head and stared back into the darkness. Regardless of what Janet believed, he knew that he would never—could never—allow himself to be so distracted again. There was nothing he could do to bring Bo back. But he could keep other lives from being snuffed out too soon. From being wrongly sacrificed in the name of justice.
Powell did not believe in the death penalty. Judges and juries were too steeped in their own biases to make those kinds of judgments. It was up to him and honest men like him to defend the innocent and those too weak to defend themselves.
Chapter 8
Monday, April 22, 1872
Powell pressed through the crowd in the courtyard to the doors of the courthouse. It was unusual for him to be late. After the argument with Janet, he had tossed and turned most of the night and had overslept as a result. The clock tower bells were chiming the ten-o’clock hour when Powell entered the courtroom. JW was already seated at the defense table, and Mort Kilgour and Charles Lee were across the aisle. Men and women were gathered in the center corridor, making it difficult for him to pass. As he reached the gate at the front of the gallery, a hand grabbed his arm. Powell turned to find Dr. Thomas Edwards, his sister-in-law’s father.
“Powell,” Edwards said with a look of surprise. “Are you defending the Lloyd widow?”
“As of last night, yes.”
Edwards narrowed his eyes. “Then we need to talk.”
“I can’t right now. The judge will be announced at any moment.”
“You need to hear what I have to say.” Edwards glanced in the direction of Kilgour. “I don’t want you to be caught off guard.” There was concern on Edwards’s face.
“What is it?”
With the courtroom crowd at his back, Edwards leaned close to Powell and lowered his voice. “I was called before the inquest jury on Saturday to validate the medical treatment the Lloyd child received. A simple professional courtesy.” He glanced quickly at Kilgour before looking back at Powell. “At the end of my testimony, Mort asked if my pharmacy ever sold Mrs. Lloyd arsenic. I told him not to my knowledge. He asked if I recorded arsenic sales, and I said that of course I did, as it was required by law to do so. He then asked if I would consult those records and confirm my testimony that no arsenic had been sold to Mrs. Lloyd. I agreed but said it would have to wait until this morning, as I do not labor on the Sabbath. So this morning when I arrived at the store, Atwell and Bentley had already come and gone. They had asked my clerk to show them the ledger.” Edwards licked his bottom lip as he leaned closer. “Powell, Mrs. Lloyd purchased arsenic from my pharmacy on February 8. Just days before the older daughter became ill and died.”
Powell’s thumb found the inside of his ring, his hands tingling. Edwards’s revelation validated both his instincts: that Emily had had a hand in her children’s deaths and that JW’s investigative work was sloppy.
The rumbling murmur of the crowd in the gallery quieted as their attention moved to the front of the room. Powell and Edwards followed their gaze to the defendant box. Sheriff Atwell had entered the room with Emily Lloyd, who was heavily veiled and dressed entirely in black. The sheriff escorted Emily to the dock and helped her step onto the platform and into the chair before closing her in. Powell looked back at Edwards and extended his hand.
“Thanks, Thomas. We’ll talk more after court.”
Nodding, Edwards shook Powell’s hand and then took a seat in the front row behind the prosecution’s table. Powell joined JW at the defense table.
“Where have you been?” JW asked as relief spread over his face.
“We have a development,” Powell said. Unbuckling his satchel, Powell took out his notes and moved the case to the floor. He looked at JW with a seriousness that creased his brow. “She bought arsenic.”
JW’s eyes darted in confusion. “Emily? When?”
Powell gave a quick nod. “In February, just before the other daughter perished.”
“Jesus!” JW swore under his breath.
“You should have caught this before Kilgour did.”
“I didn’t think—”
“You have to be thinking all the time.”
“I know. You’re right. It won’t happen again.”
“All rise,” announced the bailiff as the door of the judge’s chamber swung open.
“At least now we know how to plead,” Powell said under his breath as the two stood.
“The court of the county of Loudoun is now in session, the Honorable Judge William Wallace presiding!” the bailiff proclaimed as Judge Wallace entered and took his seat behind the cherry dais.
As the onlookers settled back into their seats, Judge Wallace looked over the courtroom. “Seems we have a crowd today.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said the bailiff.
“What’s on our docket this morning?” Wallace asked.
“The people of the Commonwealth of Virginia against Emily Elizabeth Lloyd.”
“Very well, then,” the judge said as he turned his focus from the bailiff to the prosecution table. “Mr. Kilgour?”
Mort Kilgour and Charles Lee stood from their seats. “Good morning, Your Honor. Mortimer Kilgour as attorney for the commonwealth and Charles Lee as assistant prosecutor.”
Powell and JW stood. “Your Honor, Powell Harrison as counsel for the defense, along with James William Foster as co-counsel,” Powell announced.
A loud rumble rippled over the gallery at Powell’s declaration. He felt dozens of pairs of eyes bore into his back.
“And the charges?” Judge Wallace asked as Kilgour handed the bailiff a set of papers.
Kilgour cleared his throat as he read from the complaint in his hand. “Your Honor, the commonwealth charges that on March 21, 1872, in the town of Leesburg, the defendant, Emily Elizabeth Lloyd, murdered her three-year-old child, Maud Lloyd, by administering white arsenic that thereby caused her death on March 24, 1872.”
At the announcement, gasps could be heard throughout the courtroom. Kilgour continued. “The first count sets forth that Mrs. Lloyd administered poison by mouth to Maud Emily Lloyd, thereby causing her death. Count two sets forth that Mrs. Lloyd administered poison to Maud Lloyd by injection.” More gasps waved over the courtroom. “In the third count, the people charge that the defendant administered the poison in solution with water or some other substance.”
Powell shifted his gaze to Emily in the defendant’s box, her head bowed, staring at her hands in her lap.
“In the fourth count, the people charge that six weeks prior, on or about February 14, 1872, the defendant, Emily Elizabeth Lloyd, administered white arsenic to her five-year-old child, Annie Elizabeth Lloyd, and thereby caused her death on February 16.”
Judge Wallace looked up at Kilgour as the prosecutor turned to the next page in his hand. “Count five sets forth that on July 22 of the previous year, 1871, the defendant, Emily Elizabeth Lloyd, administered poison to her eight-year-old son, Henry William Lloyd, thereby causing his death on July 26, 1871.”
The rumblings of the townspeople in the gallery grew louder. Judge Wallace raised the gavel and furrowed his brow. “Order!” He rapped the gavel on the bench. “I will have quiet in my courtroom!”
Kilgour cleared his throat. “In the sixth count, the commonwealth charges that on the same day, July 22, 1871, the defendant administered poison to her ten-year-old son, Charles George Lloyd, thereby causing his death on July 24, 1871.” Powell noticed Emily’s shoulders shaking as she softly wept.
“Count seven sets forth that on or about April 9, 1869, Emily Lloyd administered poison to Mrs. Elizabeth Hammerly, thereby causing her death on April 11, 1869.”
Gasps of disbelief erupted from the crowd as Judge Wallace hammered the gavel on the bench again. “Order! Order!” He struck the gavel on the desktop harder still. “I will have order or I will clear this courtroom!”
The crowd calmed to low mumbles.
“On the eighth count, the people set forth that on or about December 26, 1868, Emily Elizabeth Lloyd administered poison to her husband, Charles Henry Lloyd of this county, thereby causing his death on December 28, 1868.” Kilgour looked up from the document.
“Your Honor, attached to the charges is the analysis from Professor William P. Tonry of the Maryland Institute indicating the presence of fifteen grains of arsenic in the stomach of Maud Lloyd.” Powell looked at JW. It was the first time they were learning the amount of arsenic found in Maud’s stomach. Fifteen grains was nearly a half teaspoon and enough arsenic to kill a horse.
“Additionally,” Kilgour continued, “you will find the sworn statements of Dr. Randolph Moore, Dr. Thomas Edwards, and Dr. William Cross. Dr. Cross, who examined Maud Lloyd hours before her death, provided testimony that the child presented symptoms indicative of poisoning. Dr. Randolph Moore testified that the child had become ill on Thursday, March 21, and by Sunday, March 24, was markedly improved. Dr. Thomas Edwards reviewed Dr. Moore’s notes and testified that the course of treatment provided by Dr. Moore was consistent with standard medical practice and should have otherwise resulted in the child’s recovery.
“Moreover, upon further investigation, it has come to the commonwealth’s attention that Mrs. Lloyd purchased thirty grains of white arsenic from Dr. Edwards’s pharmacy on February 8, 1872, just one week before the death of her daughter Annie. This evidence contradicts the testimony of Mrs. Lloyd before the grand jury on March 25, when she claimed that she had not made such purchases.”
The gallery exploded again in disbelief. Judge Wallace pounded the mallet on the desk to silence them.
“Mrs. Lloyd,” Judge Wallace said as the crowd quieted. “Do you understand the charges against you?” Emily nodded with her head down. “Mrs. Lloyd?”
“Your Honor,” Powell interrupted. “Her counsel has explained the charges, and she understands them.”
“And does she understand the full range of punishment for these offenses?”
“She does, Your Honor.”
Judge Wallace turned back to Emily, who had lifted her head and now seemed to be paying attention.
“Mrs. Lloyd, how do you plead to the charges set forth against you?”
Emily stood from her chair and placed her hands on the bar to steady herself. “Not guilty,” she said loudly with a conviction in her voice that surprised both Powell and JW.
“Your Honor, on the matter of bail, the defense would like to motion the court to release the defendant on bond until the initial hearing and subsequent trial,” Powell said.
“Your Honor,” Kilgour interrupted. “Bail has already been denied by the magistrate.”
“The magistrate deferred to the court to decide the matter today,” Powell argued.
“Mrs. Lloyd has murdered six people!” Kilgour said, his face reddening. “It would be irresponsible to allow her to be released on bond.”
Powell persisted. “The evidence against Mrs. Lloyd is circumstantial at best. She is a devout Christian, an active member of the St. James Episcopal parish, and a contributing member of our community, working as a seamstress. Her pastor, Reverend Isaac White, and her neighbor, Colonel Lewis Nixon, have provided sworn statements attesting to her character, which I am providing to the court.” JW handed the affidavit to the bailiff to give to the judge. “Further, Your Honor, the defense requests that the indictment hearing be delayed until the defense has conducted a full evaluation of the defendant’s state of mind.”
“Is the defense considering an insanity plea?” Judge Wallace asked as he took the statements from the bailiff.
“We are, Your Honor.”
“All the more reason that the court should deny her bail,” Kilgour said, interrupting the judge’s review of the documents Powell had presented. “The people need assurance that they are safe in their community.”
Judge Wallace returned his attention to the affidavits and then riffled through the complaint a second time. Powell watched his face for a sign of his decision as moments passed. The justice lifted his head and looked at Lewis Nixon, a graying man with a receding hairline dressed in a stark black suit who was sitting in the second row.
“Colonel Nixon,” Wallace said. “Do I have your personal assurance that Mrs. Lloyd will not leave the confines of her home should I release her into your custody?”
The colonel stood. “Yes, Your Honor,” he said with a nod.
The judge shifted his gaze to Kilgour and then Powell.
“I will take the matter of bail under advisement and will issue my ruling on Thursday morning. This should give Mrs. Lloyd ample time to make arrangements for her household should I decide to remand her into custody until trial. Meanwhile, Mr. Harrison, get your evaluation underway.”
The townspeople were not pleased with the judge’s decision, and their dissatisfaction could be heard throughout the courtroom. The judge pounded his gavel again to bring them to order.
“Mrs. Lloyd, you are hereby released under the guardianship of Colonel Nixon until I make my decision. You are not to leave the confines of your residence for any purpose other than to return to this court at ten o’clock on Thursday morning. Understood?”
Emily nodded from the dock. “Yes, sir.”
Judge Wallace slammed his gavel on the wood again, bringing the hearing to an end.
Chaos erupted in the courtroom, with men shouting from the back and women lamenting in loud whispers. Colonel Nixon pushed his way down the aisle and stepped through the gate that separated the gallery from the court. Although Emily’s expression was obscured by her veil, Powell could feel her glare. She stood as Colonel Nixon approached, her back straight and shoulders pinned, eyes locked on Powell. Powell watched her as the colonel opened the bar that enclosed the box and assisted her from the dock’s platform onto the floor.
“We need to talk with her,” JW said.
At the rear of the courtroom, the sheriff’s deputy, Freddie, motioned for Colonel Nixon and Emily to avoid the mob at the front of the building. Emily stood still, holding her stare at Powell for one final moment before turning her head and disappearing through the side entrance on the colonel’s arm. As the door slammed shut, Powell ran his thumb over his wedding ring. “That we do.”
• • •
Freddie was holding open the door to the first cell as Powell and JW emerged from the small corridor into the cellblock. Bent over at the foot of the bed, Emily was gathering her few belongings as Colonel Nixon waited. A change of clothing, a nightgown, shawl, hairbrush, and a Bible were lying on the cot.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” Powell said. Emily lifted her head from the small chest. She had removed the veil that had shrouded her swollen red eyes. “We need a word with our client.”
Colonel Nixon nodded in Powell’s direction. “I’ll be in the office,” he said to Emily and walked past the two attorneys, following Freddie out of the block.
Powell instinctively knew that it was best to use a soft touch with Emily. He rehearsed the words in his head until the door at the other end of the corridor latched.
“Mrs. Lloyd,” he said. “Mr. Foster and I have some ques—”
“How dare you!” Emily said, fire in her eyes. “I am neither crazy nor insane! You had no authority to suggest such a thing!”
Powell was taken aback. “In matters such as these, it’s best to keep our options open. Especially considering the circumstances.”
“Circumstances? What circumstances?”
“We specifically asked if you had arsenic in your house, and you said that you didn’t,” JW said. “And now we find out that you did have it in your house!”
“That is not what you asked!” she hissed. “You asked if I had bought arsenic, and I told you I had not, but I never said that it hadn’t been in the house before.”
