An Unspeakable Crime Read online

  Marshall, ever the gentleman, cringed, but he seconded Henry’s statement, more diplomatically. “Mr. Henry is correct. Please recall that you have hired two attorneys of some renown after years in the practice. While I am known for my writing, Mr. Henry is one of the finest orators of his time. Certainly you know of the time he declared, ‘Give me liberty or give me death.’ Well, now is the time to listen to our combined advice, especially when you find it is identical from each of us.”

  Nancy smiled at Mr. Marshall and looked at him (and him alone) when she said, “But of course you are right, Mr. Marshall. Please just know, each of you,” here she turned back to Henry, “that I will do anything I can to help prove Richard’s innocence.”

  Henry’s inclination was to tell her to do her part by shutting her mouth, putting on a demure black gown, and venturing off of Bizarre only to go to church, if even then. A nunnery would be a good choice, even for this Protestant girl. Henry kept his thoughts to himself and Marshall kindly added, “Well then you must stay here with Judith and support her through this ordeal, helping with the youngster.”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Marshall. I love Judy so much, I would do anything for her.”

  Marshall seemed pleased, but Henry didn’t like her. It seemed too little, too late to become the best sister in the world when so much harm had been done to Judith already. But it was enough to unhook Nancy from the side of Richard, where she had returned, so that Henry and Marshall could have a meeting with their client before Marshall and Richard set off for town. Richard would turn himself into the Cumberland County jail to face charges of murder. It was to be his second act of bravery and declaration of innocence, at least in Richard’s own eyes. Henry was more skeptical; there was, an active warrant out for Richard’s arrest so it wasn’t exactly what one would call a voluntary turnover at this point.

  When the time came, the whole household turned out to watch Richard get into Marshall’s carriage. His wife and his sister-in-law, along with most of the plantation’s bondsmen, gathered to wave off the party of two. Henry remained somewhat awkwardly in the background, thankfully forgotten in the emotional tableau playing out at this most strange of homes. He found himself directly behind Nancy and Judith, who both stood stock still and watched Richard and his carriage disappear down the long driveway off the plantation. Even once the carriage had become a speck on the horizon and most of the bondsmen had returned to their posts, the sisters remained staring down the long road.

  Although they could now move apart, the sisters remained close, but did not touch. Barely an inch separated one from the other, but neither reached out to the other to offer support to their sibling. Rather, Nancy never reached out to support her sister, the wife of the man who had just left possibly for the last time. Of the two, Nancy seemed more bereft than Judith, rather indecorously weeping into her handkerchief and sniffling and keening back and forth. Judith stood ramrod straight and silently stared after her husband’s retreating form. If she was shedding tears, it was something that Henry could not see from his vantage point.

  “I need to go, too, Judy,” Henry could hear Nancy say to her sister. Judith made any effort to respond. Henry remained silent. The two women had likely forgotten his presence in the heat of their own personal grief and anxiety. “I should turn myself in as well so that the truth can come out. So I can set this right in the eyes of the county.” Henry was careful to not grunt again at this continued refrain from the young woman who had just an hour ago so wholeheartedly pledged her cooperation to Marshall and himself in front of Richard.

  Her current audience was even more difficult than Henry had been. If possible, Judith’s back straightened even more upright. “Are you concerned suddenly about the eyes of the county, Nancy?” It wasn’t an innocent question, but Judith’s tone was more restrained than accusatory. More hurt than angry. Still, Henry found that the sheer depth of emotion emitted caused him to suck in his breath sharply. And apparently loudly enough to remind the sisters Randolph of his presence.

  “I suppose you will leave now,” Judith smiled a mean little smirk. Indeed, it was time to leave Bizarre.

  ******

  Letter from John Marshall to Patrick Henry

  Dear Mr. Henry,

  Mr. Randolph is now safely within the custody of Cumberland County, being housed in fairly reasonable comfort considering the charges against him. His keepers have assured me he will have no further access to speak directly to the local papers, nor would he have access to others to do the same for him. Or, to be more accurate, the only two people who may receive any such missives from Mr. Randolph are you and I. I did not restrict any ability to receive mail, but I believe it is in our client’s best interest to prevent any further emotional outbursts to the public at large.

  I could not speak to you in private while at Bizarre Plantation. I will not memorialize to the written word what I felt about that situation (although that speaks a thousand words, does it not?), and will look to meet with you in person to discuss the same. I have charged young John Randolph—Richard’s younger brother—with the personal task of keeping Miss Nancy Randolph firmly on the grounds of Bizarre and far, far away from the proceedings that are about to begin. I fear that her zeal to exonerate her brother-in-law is remarkably unhelpful. She must also remember that she has also been charged with fornication and infanticide, charges for which she would hang. Even if Richard is deemed to have taken advantage of his situation, we can likely prevent hanging for him. While his peers in the court could likely oversee a young man succumbing to the obvious charms of a young girl, Nancy does not realize the ire in which they hold her in the salons of Virginia. I fear the damage is already done to her.

  Of course, Nancy is not our client is she? (I know how a great litigator like yourself thinks.) But, playing my devil’s advocate, Richard seems to care very much about what happens to her, so to respect our own client’s wishes, we must avoid deflecting blame onto her as long as we can, if possible. I will tell you I feel that she, along with Richard, is innocent, but others may not have as firm an understanding of the law as the two of us, my good man.

  Now, a word about our mutual client, whose life we now find in our hands. It rather put him out to discover that he would actually be held once we arrived to the courthouse. I have seen many levels of shock and related disbelief in people charged with crimes, but I feel I must report that there was something different with this young man. He was indignant as I processed him into the custody of the county jailer. “You don’t actually need to keep me here,” he had the nerve to ask the officer. “I can stay in my town home while we go through the process.” And when the man declined, “Good God, man, do I have to report you to the justices in the morning? Are you some sort of idiot?”

  Do I need to tell you the reaction of the poor man who was only performing the tasks of his employment? No, I do not. To his credit, the jailer remained silent, although his face spoke volumes.

  “Richard,” I said, trying to be discreet. “They must hold you in the jail. You are being tried for murder, amongst other charges. They will not allow you to go free before the trial.”

  “I will be held here until I am found innocent,” he responded and I believe it was more of a statement than a question. I knew I needed to be clear, so he understood. You and I know how terrible it is when your clients claim you never gave them the bad news. I had to let him know. “The court will hold you in the jail unless they find you innocent.” I turned and left. I needed to have him ponder that thought, that distinction, overnight.

  You may think me naïve, Mr. Henry, but I don’t believe Richard Randolph is the monster he is being made out to be. I know—and I agree—that he refuses to take our advice. I can now see what an arrogant and entitled young man he is. But we could also very much agree that indignation and horror at the concept of being charged, held, and tried for murder are the natural responses of an innocent man. Neither you nor I would be pleased to find ourselves in the same situation. />
  We need to get this blustery and self-centered young man to listen to us. If he does not, I fear that it won’t matter whether he is innocent—no man can resist giving a well-deserved comeuppance and how better to do so than finding such a man guilty of horrible crimes. I dare say we have our work cut out for us with this one, Mr. Henry. We must now likewise hope that the Commonwealth has the weak case that we presume them to have.

  The truth of the matter, I fear, is that we have a rogue client, Patrick. He seems intent on believing that innocence (and we shall presume that said innocence is not an act for our sakes) is enough to exonerate him. Until we can cure him of that belief, he is likely to do as he pleases throughout. I would typically say being held in custody is sufficient insurance he cannot cause too much trouble for us, but I fear that the Randolph name may allow privileges with the justices they would afford mere mortals such as the Henry's and Marshall's of the world. And we cannot forget that most of the justices are likely cousins if not related by marriage or through other incestuous ties with our defendant. If he wants to talk to them, I worry that he will find a way.

  Between Richard here at the county seat and Nancy out at Bizarre, we have two volatile young people to convince that two old men know what they are talking about. And we can’t even hope to control all the other players who are talking behind the scenes. I have never seen a family that is so intent upon spreading so much ill will about their own. I do not understand these Randolph's at all. Thomas Mann Randolph the younger (Jefferson’s son-in-law) is one of the primary members of the anti-Richard camp, and I believe that young John Randolph, Richard’s youngest brother, is quickly becoming the prime detractor of Nancy (and he sees her often enough to be a good judge of such things, I’m afraid). With such people against us, I fear we have our work cut out for us in convincing non-family members of Richard’s innocence.

  I know this letter will arrive at essentially the same moment you are leaving to join me in Cumberland. That said, I also know you will likely spend your whole journey to town worrying about status and so I felt I would give you this update via missive. I will save any further thoughts for our imminent meeting.

  Most Sincerely, John Marshall

  ******

  Patrick Henry put down Marshall’s letter and considered the stack of notes he had piled next to him on his desk, ready for Thomas to pack. It was not a good sign that his co-counsel had such dire thoughts at this point in the case. The case hadn’t even begun. Henry hoped to God that Richard could get himself through the arraignment, a process that should be simple. “Should” being the operative word. Only time would tell if Richard Randolph could pull himself together sufficiently to allow his counsel to win this battle. It would be his own fault if they did not succeed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Arraignment of Richard Randolph

  HENRY SAT DOWN BESIDE John Marshall and waited as the court marshal escorted their mutual client into the courtroom. Richard did not look well. Henry knew he was perhaps down on his funds—as were all old planting families—but Richard was a young man who put care into his appearance. He had always appeared like a man of means each time Henry had seen him even if his suits were becoming threadbare if you looked closely enough.

  But this young man being escorted to the defendant’s table was no pampered dandy. This Richard appeared to have been sleep deprived and disheveled, his clothes crumpled and soiled. He appeared to be embarrassed and made to smooth out the wrinkles in his trousers as he sat down next to counsel. Perhaps the desired effect was to have this young star of society lose his shine, make him look like a common drunk or the like. Ironically, Henry thought, it didn’t work. In fact, it was sad to see Richard in such a state. He looked abused rather than depraved. This pleased Henry, but only because it was to Richard’s benefit that he looked horrible.

  “All rise,” the bailiff announced. The three men at the defense table did so, as did the two attorneys for the Commonwealth, a young man named James Smith and his junior counsel Paul Jones. “Smith and Jones?” Henry had asked Marshall incredulously when they heard the names of the prosecutors for the first time. “Are they even real attorneys or just puppets with the most common names they could think up?”

  These were real men. They were not old men, both were younger and less experienced than either Henry or Marshall. This was not reassuring—inexperienced counsel was usually as hard to deal with as older attorneys who resorted to low tactics. Newer attorneys usually didn’t even know when they were being underhanded and difficult and they made up for inexperience and low self-esteem by being overly aggressive. This was not a great case for such a fresh team of attorneys. Perhaps no other counsel in the county had wanted to take on the mighty Randolph family. If that were the case, Henry would hold out a bit of respect for these young men who would dare to bring charges against a scion of the county. True, the young scion had more or less asked to be charged, so perhaps this scenario was different all around. For lack of a better word, it was indeed a bizarre situation.

  As the entire courtroom stood, in filed nine justices of the peace, serving as the judge and jury in the matter at hand. These men, much like Richard himself, were members of the great families of Virginia, most of whom had all conglomerated together in the Cumberland County area. For the first time in some time, there were no Randolphs on the panel, although in these parts it was fair to bet that even those without the name still had the blood in their veins. In the good families, anyway.

  Henry scanned the faces of the men as they took their time filing in and finding their chairs behind the bench. All ages, but only one social class. That was usually not a good thing, but seeing as how his client was firmly in that class, it seemed no harm. What was worrisome was the look of resignation on most of the men’s faces as they sat down. They didn’t appear to be as eager as Smith and Jones to have to hear this case. Judicial reluctance could play favorably to one side or the other, but only time would tell who the justices found themselves the most impatient with in this matter. Having forced his own indictment, Richard was likely the most disliked party at this point.

  “You may be seated,” the head justice, George Carrington announced. All did as told.

  “We are here to determine whether the defendant, Mr. Richard Randolph, is here present and what he pleads to the charges of fornication with his sister-in-law and the subsequent murder of a baby at Glentivar plantation. The specific charge is infanticide.”

  Richard had asked for the right to stand and enter his own plea. Henry had been against giving the young man any opportunity ever again to speak on his own behalf. Perhaps he would next suggest that they move immediately to sentencing or some such other bluster that only resulted in trouble for the young man. Marshall was more sympathetic. “There is little harm he can do, Patrick. He says yes or no, nothing else.” Cleary Marshall was more optimistic than Henry.

  “You may only say guilty or not guilty,” Henry had reminded Richard in a quick whisper before the justices entered the courtroom. “If you say anything else, not only will you likely be signing your own death warrant, but I will walk out of this courtroom today and never will I come back.” Henry smiled. He half hoped that Richard would take the chance to talk so he could turn to John Marshall, smile, and take his leave, never to return. True, he wouldn’t receive his yet to be paid five hundred pounds, but it would be so much better to cut his losses now rather than risk being unpaid for a full inquest.

  “Mr. Randolph, how do you plead?”

  Richard stood up, nodded to the justices, turned and nodded to the gallery and said, “Gentlemen justices, ladies and gentlemen of Cumberland County. My plea to all charges of wrongdoing, including those specifically alleged against me today is, and always has been, not guilty.”

  Henry hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath until Richard, still standing, looked first to him and then to Marshall. Henry just stared while Marshall gave the young man a brief nod. He had done well. He had foll
owed counsel’s advice—he was a little verbose—but he had more or less followed advice. And in this case, where he had gone above and beyond, Richard had actually seemed genuine. His nod to the public was heartfelt and concise enough that few people could find fault in his words, gestures, or behavior. Although he had been fantasizing about an escape route from this case, Henry was so surprised that he patted the young man’s arm and whispered, “Well done.”

  Of course, the reward for a plea of not guilty was long and arduous litigation. “This court has registered your plea, Mr. Randolph. We shall proceed to a full inquest beginning a week from today. Due to the nature of the charges against you, you shall remain in custody pending a verdict of these justices. You are entitled to be present for all testimony against you and to present your own case once the Commonwealth presents their evidence. Do you have any questions, Mr. Randolph?”

  Henry worried for a moment that this would be the opportunity for Richard to crucify himself after having done so well just a moment previously. But Richard was not posturing as an overly confident young man who could prove his innocence with no cause for worry. This young man seemed to have very suddenly and very completely understood the enormity of what he faced. This would not be easy or heroic. This would be a fight for his life.

  Richard dropped his head down slightly, but he maintained a respectful stance in front of the justices. Some of these young men were likely former playmates or rivals, people he had grown up with. These were his peers, yes, but that might not prove to be helpful. Often our peers are our greatest enemies when given the chance, Henry believed. He suddenly felt rather sad for Richard as he watched all these thoughts float across his client’s face. “I don’t have any questions, sirs. Thank you.”

  Richard sat down. Richard Randolph had just fully grasped that his life was in the hands of the men before him. Over the next several days the Commonwealth would put on evidence against him and Richard would provide his rebuttal. If he lost, he would die. Marshall put his hand on one of Richard’s shoulders and Henry followed suit on the other side. It was a difficult thing to be tried for your life. The only thing more difficult was being the attorney charged with trying to save that life against the might of the government. Henry wished someone would put a hand on his shoulder.