ing, which she had often seen before, and which she knew, she started for it and
She Disappeared In It.
Now, gentlemen, what more on this point? Here is the deposition of Eugene S. Whorf, on which the defence rely to lend you to believe that a woman, about 10 o’clock on the night of Dec 23, threw herself off the Malden bridge, and that woman was Deltena Davis.
I might ask you here, as I did upon another point, to reverse the situation, and imagine that we were asking you to believe that that woman was Deltena Davis.
In view of all else that we know, of all else which is proved in the case, and proved without dispute—the place of the body, the state of the stomach, the situation of the bridges, the course and velocity of the tides and currents—suppose we were asking you, gentlemen, to believe that Tena Davis was thrown off the Malden bridge, you would scout the suggestion: you wouldn’t listen to it a moment—not a moment.
Now, let us see the whole story.
“I was standing in the doorway of the drawhouse, and I noticed the girl coming from the Charlestown side toward the draw—the girl or a woman or a female. Also saw a man coming from the Everett side dressed in overalls and a dinner pail in his hand and a jumber (sic) and a cap on.
“He was a man that I had often seen before. I took it to be the man I had seen before.
‘The girl walked very slow, and stopped occasionally, and the man passed her at the small building at the varnish factory.
The girl then came on toward the draw and occasionally stopped and
Put Her Hand on the Rail.
She finally came within a hundred feet of me and stopped, and I was smoking a cigar at the time and I stepped back 10 feet from the door to light it.
“I was possibly gone one minute, when I heard an eruption in the water, and I looked for the girl and she was gone.
“I immediately ran over to where I last saw her, got over the railing onto the gas pipe to see if I could see her.
“I then noticed the tide running down strong about half ebb, I jumped over that railing and I could not see anything, it being dark. I then went down on the pier to launch my boat and found I could not launch her alone without filling her with water.
“Then I went down on the wall of the milldam, millpond, and that boat was gone, and I had no life buoy to help myself up with and I gave it up.”
So far as we can learn, gentlemen, and we have heard from the men on the bridge—the draw-tender and the other assistant—there was no difficulty about the boat, and there was no difficulty about the buoy, and no reason why, if Mr Whorf really thought he had discovered a woman in the act of suicide, he should not have done something about it.
He fixes the time as between 9.40 and 9.50, and that approximately, if he is right, is 9.45.
Asked again what he heard, he said this—and I call your attention to this answer, and I would like to know if you can put an intelligent interpretation upon it, consistent with the story which they desire to have you believe.
“A Kind of Eruption
of the water. It attracted my attention, and when I heard it I knew she was overboard.”
Well, of course he didn’t know it, and he didn’t know what it was that went into the water. That shows how he jumped at the inference that this woman had gone into the water. He was then away back 10 feet from the door in the draw-tender’s house, busy with his cigar.
“When I heard this eruption I knew she had gone over.”
How extravagant that is?
“It might not have been the girl at all.” In the very next breath he says it might not have been the girl at all. Well, of course it might not. We all know that. In the next breath, “But I knew the girl was overboard.” And in the next breath. “it might not have been the girl.” Again, “but I saw the girl was gone.”
There is that answer, and I will read it again without any comment of mine: “A kind of eruption of the water; It attracted my attention, and when I heard it I knew she was overboard. It might not have been the girl at all, but I knew the girl was overboard. It might not have been the girl, but I saw the girl was gone.”
Mr Schofield—There is another sentence.
Mr Pillsbury—Well, I omitted that because I didn’t think it was of any consequence: “She went either up or down.” That was quoted to the jury yesterday. I am not undertaking to read the whole. Now, Mr Wharff (sic) was asked:
“What night of the week was it that you say you saw this girl on the bridge? What night of the week?” “The 23d, Thursday, if I remember right; Christmas was Saturday. I think it was Thursday.”
“Why do you think it was Thursday?” I don’t know how to answer that. I know it was Thursday. Christmas was Saturday, and it was two days before that.”
Well, that we know to be a mistake, but still it is a mistake which anybody might make. He says he
Knows It was Thursday.
he says he knows it was two days before Christmas, and we know that the second day before Christmas was Wednesday, and that Christmas was not Saturday, but Friday. But it shows that he is more or less confused in his recollection about it.
Now, when asked why he didn’t say something to somebody connected with this case which he immediately began to read of in newspapers—that is here in the deposition, and I need not stop to read it—he said this: “Why didn’t you tell some person or persons interested in the case?” “I didn’t want to be in the case.”
“Why didn’t you want to be in the case?”
“I can give no particular reason. I thought he was guilty of some things he was accused of.”
“What parts do you think he was guilty of?”
“I thought he seduced the girl and ought to marry her.” “Was that the reason you did not communicate with any person in relation to what you saw?” “Yes, sir.”
“State any reason why you did not communicate with some person connected with this case, and what you say you saw on the bridge Dec 23.” (I presume that is intended to be “about what you saw.”) “The reason was I did not think the man ought to be convicted of murder.
“I did think he was guilty of all the rest of it and ought to suffer. If I thought he was going to be convicted to be hung I should have said something in his behalf.”
And then he says that he
Wrote to His Old School-Fellow.
Mr Coggan. Gentlemen, this poor man has gone to his last account, and I do not wish to cast any reflection upon him or upon his memory. But it is my duty to call your attention to some things concerning this evidence, a duty which I cannot fail to perform. Do you really—and there is another witness in the case of which the same thing is true to rather a more aggravated degree, of whom I shall have occasion to say a word later—do you really believe that if Eugene Whorf really believed that this woman threw herself off that bridge and was drowned on the night of Dec 23, or that she was or might be Deltena J. Davis, he would have stood by, reading the reports of those proceedings, the accounts of the search with which the newspapers were full for days, if not for weeks, the account of the proceedings in the lower court, the indictment and the trial in this court, knowing as he must have know that his old schoolfellow, Mr Coggan, was counsel in the case, and never said a word about it.
That is difficult to believe. And if we are to believe it, Mr Whorf, to put it mildly to say the least, did not do his duty.
Why was not this reported to the police?
If that was suicide, the police ought to have known of it, and in the ordinary course they would have known it.
No report was made to the police, and we have learned why, and it was because, to use the language of the witness,
They Did Not Take Any Stock
in the story.
Let me call your attention to another point before I pass from this, because I may forget it.
You went over there and saw the Malden bridge. Here is a picture of it which you will see again. But, gentlemen, you know and I know, and anybody and everybody who has looked at that bridge knows that if Mr Whorf saw a woman approaching from the Charlestown side until she reached the point which he describes by the old gas lamppost, and then he went into the draw house to light his cigar, and the woman kept on, before he came out she would have passed behind the timbers of that draw and be out of sight.
She was going north, mind you, toward the draw. I called your attention when you stood there on the steps of the draw-tender’s house, or the attention of some of you, to the question whether a person walking behind those timbers, passing along that sidewalk behind the draw or beyond the draw, could be seen from that point, and I will submit to any of you who looked to say whether she could.
What sort of a woman was this? How does Mr Whorf describe her?
“She was a stout girl, about as tall as I am, with a dark cloak.”
They might all look dark in the night, not white.
“A stout girl, about as tall as I am.”
We do not know from Mr Whorf himself how tall he was, but we learned from Mr Whorf, his brother, that he was about as tall as Mr Cooney. This was the statement of Mr Clarence Whorf. Mr Eugene Whorf, being taken up by us—this was the direct examination, and the counsel saw, of course, that that answer did not answer the purpose of the case—said she came up about the rail; about half a head perhaps, above the rail.
Well, think of Mr Cooney about half a head above the rail. Now the woman
May Have Been Stout.
she may have been thin; she may have been short, and she may have been tall.
Mr Whorf may not have been able, and probably was not able, to accurately describe her, and I do not wish you to understand, certainly, that I am refining upon this, but here is his description of the woman just as he originally gave it:
“She was a stout girl, about as tall as I am.” Well, if she was a short girl—and I ask you, before I leave it to compare that description, which was the description before the examining counsel had interfered—I ask you to compare that description with what we know of the size and figure of Deltena Davis.
And if she was a short woman, as he says in the next answer she was, so much the more could she and would she have been concealed behind the timbers of that draw.
This unfortunate man was in feeble health, and those who were nearest to him evidently thought that his illness and the treatment of it, one or both, had disturbed or weakened his mind.
Dr Hammond says his mind was clear.
He treated him a long time prior to this affair.
Dr West, who examined him at the time the deposition was taken on June 15, says his mind was clear, and undoubtedly he found it so on such examination as he made.
It is not pretended that he was an idiot or a lunatic, either one or the other.
But you know, gentlemen, without the testimony of Dr Hammond, who testified to it, that
The Habitual Use of Morphine
is liable to disturb and to weaken the mind and to interfere with mental operations.
You know that Mr Whorf had been a user of morphine, and Dr Hammond says it is a common thing for morphine patients to keep a hypodermic syringe and take the injection themselves, and there are men on this jury, undoubtedly, who know that. My friend, who argued for the defense, said, if I understood him correctly, and said inadvertently, of course, that there was no evidence—something to that effect, I do not intend to quote his language—that there was no evidence that Mr Whorf was a user of Morphine, except at the time he was treated with morphine by Dr Hammond.
I desire to read you the testimony on that point, and with that I shall leave it. This is the testimony of Clarence Whorf:
“Q. Do you know what his medicines were—what medicine your brother took? A. Well, I know for heart trouble the chief medicine was digitalis.
“Q. Digitalis? A. Yes, sir, and at times when he was using that, other medicines to relieve pain. He used a great deal of morphine also.
“Q. Did he use morphine with a hypodermic syringe every day? A. Yes, sir; he had a syringe of his own.
“Q. For injecting it? A. Yes, sir.”
My friend has criticized Clarence Whorf for coming here to
Testify to His Brother’s Condition. Do you suppose, gentlemen, that he came here because he liked to, or do you suppose that he came because he deemed it his duty to give the government and the jury the benefit of the truth about this matter?
But all this, Mr Foreman and gentlemen, as it seems to me, is idle—idle.
If there is one man on this jury who believes that Deltena Davis went over into the waters of the Mystic river from the Malden bridge, a mile below the Wellington bridge, at a time when the course and velocity of the current would have carried her body, on the evidence of Mr Mills, 200 feet down stream in three minutes, the tide a little less than ebb, two hours less than low tide, the current running at the rate of a foot a second, that she went over from the Malden bridge at that time, and that her body found its way—her body, which Mr Dorr, the only witness called by the defense on this subject, and he a witness who testifies only to opinion and not to facts—her body, which Mr Dorr himself says would have sunk and remained on the bottom—her body, which was not decomposed when found, and the evidence is that the body of a drowned person does not rise until it is distended by the gases generated in decomposition—that that body would have found its way up that stream,
Against the Natural Course
of the current for more than a mile, and sunk and stayed in the very place to which the current running under the Wellington bridge would have carried it in three minutes from the time and the place where she did go into the waters of the river,--if there is a man on the jury who believes that proposition, or who ever believed it for one moment, I might as well take my seat.
And more than this, that the body, which never floated on the surface and never came to the surface, on all the evidence, not decomposed—that the body made its way along the bottom of the river for a mile and more without one single mark on it—that the body found its way through that network of piles on which rest the Eastern railroad and the Boston & Maine railroad bridges, to say nothing of the other natural obstructions which it would encounter, up to that very spot where it was found without a mark upon it—it is preposterous, preposterous.
And if you doubt, gentlemen—take this evidence just as it stands—if you doubt that Tena Davis went off the Wellington bridge, and that she went off the Wellington bridge at or about 8 o’clock on the night of Dec 23, and that her body went straight with the course of the current which we know did run there at that time and place to the spot where it sank, and where it would naturally sink—and where it was found, if you doubt that on the evidence in this case, you may as well
Doubt That She is Dead.
And if we have not proved that, we have not proved anything.
Gentlemen, I say to you again, for my duty will not permit me to allow an attempt of this character to mislead and confuse a jury to pass without this comment—I say to you again, without any imputation upon the witness, much more without any upon the counsel, whose duty it is to put before the jury anything and everything which may benefit the prisoner, and who would fail in their duty if they did not, I say to you again that this is a mere attempt to confuse and mislead you, to divert your attention from the evidence in the case to a mere possibility, to suppose which is more difficult than to suppose that Trefethen killed Tena Davis a hundred times.
But this is not all. We have another witness produced here to prove that Deltena Davis committed suicide.
There is a maxim of the law which says that from the character of one you may judge of the whole.
The next witness on the suicide theory is Sarah L. Hubert, otherwise known as Sadie Johnson.
She is the witness who was shown here at the former trial, and whom we had had an opportunity to inquire into.
I shall say very little, gentlemen, about the testimony of this witness, for after they heard the rebuttal our friends of the defense gave her up: They gave her up. But what was the story?
What would it have been, and what would you have been asked to believe, if, fortunately, we had not been able to
Follow the Tracks,
and to show you the truth about this story of Sadie Johnson? And my friend would have urged it upon you with all the force and all the eloquence with which he has urged any of his propositions. You would have been asked to believe that on the forenoon of the 22d day of December, 1891, between 10 and 11 o’clock in the forenoon, Deltena Davis, the victim of this tragedy, went to the place of business of this woman on Tremont row in Boston to consult her about her condition, and that in the course of the conversation, weeping and manifesting every mark of agitation, she said that she was going to drown herself.
That is what you would have been asked to believe, and my friend, except that we were able to detect and expose that lie, would have challenged you to find a verdict of conviction in the face of that evidence.
Mrs. Hubert, the friend of Mrs. Lindsay, who is the friend of Mrs Paine, who go to detective Richardson’s office together!
We have produced the very girl, and my friend admits in effect, if not in so many words, that it is
The Very Girl.
And, more than that, she did not say a word about suicide. Gentlemen, what do you think of this sort of witness? Is this the way to deal with a jury?
More! More! There was one man at least in this room who when this woman was put upon the stand knew that every word of that statement was a lie, and that man was James Albert Trefethen, who, at the very hour and minute when Hubert testifies that the girl whom she called Tena Davis was in her place of business in Boston threatening to commit suicide was with Tena Davis in her store in Everett at that very hour and minute, between 10 and 11 o’clock in the forenoon of Dec 22.
This poor fellow! This innocent young man!
So much for Hubert. Now, what next? I am not sure but detective Richardson, or somebody else, saw some premonition of what was liable to happen to Sadie Johnson at this trial, and that the defendants had better be provided with a substitute in case of accident.
Now, understand I do not impute that to anybody but Richardson, and I don’t know whether Richardson had anything to do with it or not.
But Richardson was employed by Trefethen in this case, and you have seen him on the stand, and I hope you took a good look at him.
Now, who is the new witness?
Dr William John Therrien of Isabella st in Boston. He comes here and testifies that on the 18th day of December, between 6 and 7 o’clock, or about 7 o’clock in the evening, a young woman whose description, as he gave it, did not at all answer the description of Deltena Davis, but whom he says he recognized as Deltena Davis immediately the picture came out in THE GLOBE, came to his office wit ha man 45 or 50 years of age, described her pregnant condition, and said that she was going to commit suicide. And not only that, but said she was going to throw herself overboard.
It is Remarkable.
that she did not say she was going to throw herself overboard from the Wellington bridge at 8 o’clock p m, Dec 23.
But she did not say that; she said simply she was going to throw herself overboard. She said, by the way, Dr Therrien’s Tena Davis said, that she didn’t want to disgrace her mother. Sadie Johnson’s Tena Davis, you will remember, said her mother abused her, and twitted her and talked to her about her condition being noticed by the customers. Who and what is Dr John Therrien?
A gentleman who for some reason has dropped a part of his name, who has been practicing medicine, as he says, in Boston for about eight years, who concealed all knowledge of these most important facts, reading the accounts of Tena Davis’ disappearance, recognizing the picture in THE GLOBE instantly as the picture of the girl who called on him, following the proceedings down through the trial and conviction, knowing, as he admits he knew, that the question on that trial was as it is here, suicide or murder, who stood by and allowed all that to go on without giving one word of information either to the government, which a decent and honest man would have done, or even to the defense, and who, when I asked him, having recalled him to this court room with the assistance of an officer, whether he was willing to tell this jury for how many and what criminal offences
He Had Been Indicted
in Suffolk county within the period of his residence there, said: “No, no; I am not going into my private affairs here.”
What do you think of that, gentlemen? Here are three distinct and independent pieces of evidence, three distinct and independent attempts to make you believe that Deltena Davis committed suicide.
Ordinarily three pieces of evidence put together would be at least three times as strong as either one of them, and on the theory of coincidences very much more than three times as strong.
I ask you, gentlemen, when you put these three together if they do not all disappear from this case.
Well, gentlemen, there is one thing more on this point, and but one. Dec. 22, between 10 and 11 in the forenoon, we know that Tena Davis was with Trefethen in her store, for that is proved by Mrs Davis.
On the night of the 18th we know that she was not at Dr John Therrien’s office, because she was not out of the house at all.
I say then, gentlemen, and with this I leave this topic, that there is not one fact proved in this case on which you can stand with your two feet, or with one, to believe that Deltena Davis committed suicide, not one, so far as we have gone. I speak of the evidence which I have reviewed.
Now, gentlemen, we know when and where and how Deltena Davis died. We know her condition.
We know that some man was under a motive to be rid of her; and we know that Trefethen was that man, and that he was under a double motive. For not only was Tena Davis the mother of his unborn child and pressing him toward marriage, but he was engaged and had been for years to another woman who was expecting to be married that fall.
“This Man Must Account for Himself.”
Now, where was he? Where was he at the time of Tena Davis’ disappearance and death?
There is an attempt here to provide what is called in law an alibi; that is, that Trefethen was not and could not have been at Wellington bridge at 8 o’clock on the night of Dec 23, or about that time. It is not uncommonly said that a false alibi is practically a confession of guilt.
I should not go so far as that, but we may go this far and say that a false alibi, or an alibi which fails, throws more suspicion upon him who attempts to establish it than if the attempt had not been made, for it shows that he feels the necessity of accounting for himself, that he has made the attempt, and that he cannot do it.
Now, gentlemen, I call your attention, and I must do this with some pains, for I want no mistake about it, to the evidence relied on to show Trefethen’s whereabouts between 7 and 9 o’clock on the night of Dec 23.
The evidence of the Lindsays, which we may call the beginning of the alibi, I shall not take the trouble to make any detailed examination of or allusion to; it is sufficient to say of that, that if all they say is true—and if it were necessary I should undertake to point out some reasons why it should at least be distrusted—if all they say is true, Trefethen may have been at home by or before 7 o’clock that evening; and before 7 o’clock that evening we are not concerned with his whereabouts, we do not know or care where he was or
What He Was About.
There are two witnesses who testify to seeing Trefethen in that store between 7 and 9 o’clock, and but two.
The first is Mamie Worcester, that lively young girl and intimate friend of the family, who admitted, when pressed, that her recollection of this circumstance was somewhat confused, who went around there immediately after she ate her supper, whose supper-time was 6.30, who does not pretend to have looked at any timepiece, or to have any means of fixing the time except from such recollection as she has of the circumstances, and who saw Trefethen merely enter and leave the store—he came in and went right out.
It is not necessary to say one word more about Mamie Worcester’s testimony, because, take her statement just as she made it, and that may have been 5 minutes past 7, or 10 minutes past 7, or quarter past 7 or 20 minutes past 7. It may have been any one of these.
The other witness, and the only other, of all the people, gentlemen, who were in and out of that store that busy night—a busy night, they all agree, with the Christmas trade going on—of all the people who were in and out of that store that night, nobody else is called here to say that Trefethen was seen at that place within those hours except his poor old mother.
Now, gentlemen, as my friend has said, I had not the heart to subject her to cross-examination.
I did not regard it my duty to do it, and I was glad to be relieved of that duty.
For, as I shall show you in a moment, and as you may already have perceived, it is impossible to put any dependance upon that statement of that unfortunate woman.
Of course, gentlemen, of course she would testify if she
Has a Mother’s Heart
in her bosom, she would testify, and she would make herself believe that she remembered whatever was necessary to relieve her son from this situation; and if she has a mother’s heart in her bosom she testified out of her heart and not out of her recollection.
She did not know, until after her son was arrested, that he was likely to be charged with any crime.
She said so at the former trial, and the testimony was read to you. She had no occasion, no particular occasion, until that time, to remember particularly what happened on the night of the 23d. Perhaps she had on the 24th.
She said she knew—take it as true—she knew on the 24th there was some trouble about her son; she didn’t know that her son was going to be placed in this situation in which we find him.
But whether she did or not she has testified here, and she has brought herself to believe, that he was in that store between 7 and 9 o’clock that night; and I know of no man who could or would pass one word of censure upon her.
Whether the statement is true or is not true, she cannot be blamed.
We cannot from her expect anything else.
But I pray you, gentlemen, to consider how much dependence can be placed on this testimony, especially in the light of the other circumstances to which I shall call your attention.
Now, Trefethen Himself
has told two stories.
He has given two accounts of his whereabouts between 7 and 9 o’clock that night.
Before I proceed to consider this evidence I ought to say to you, gentlemen, perhaps, that statements which are extorted from a person who stood in the situation in which he was placed when he made these, which are extorted from him either by fear or by hope of favor, are not evidence against him.
Clearly they ought not to be, and they are not. And the court will probably submit to you the question whether these statements of Trefethen to the officers were made under such a duress or such menace, or such compulsion, that they ought not to be taken as his voluntary statements.
Now as to that, I have but two things to say. While I am on this point, lest I may forget it, let me call your attention to another thing of similar character, of which I ought to say a word at some time.
The question will arise also, and you will be specially instructed upon it, I presume, as to the effect to be given to statements made by Tena to her mother, repeated to or by Trefethen, or in his presence, as to the effect which is to be given to those statements as evidence against him.
A statement of whatsoever character, an accusatory statement, met by him with a plain and explicit denial, is no evidence against him.
The statement is no evidence against him, much less is his denial any evidence against him, for when a man denies guilt it ought not to be argued that he is therefore guilty, no matter what else appears in the case.
But statements of this character made by him or to him or in his presence,
If Not Met by Denial,
statements of a character to call for explanation or reply or denial, if not explained or replied to or denied, or if met by equivocation, if met otherwise then by explicit denial, are evidence against him, and are in the case for all purposes, just like any other evidence.
And I call your attention now, gentlemen, to the fact, and I ask you to remember it in connection with the instructions which the court will give you upon this branch of the case, I call your attention now to the fact that on the evidence in the case Mrs Davis, when Trefethen went down there on that Saturday morning, Dec 26, with Smith, whom he introduced to her as his detective, Smith, who ran a boiler in Busey pl, Boston, introducing him to Mrs Davis as a detective whom he had employed to aid in finding Tena (and I shall have a word more of this later) that at that time, in response to Trefethen’s own request, Mrs Davis went over the whole story of their relations, told all that Tena had told her, was even asked by this detective to describe the place in Charlestown where Tena lost her virtue, and described it—lost her virtue to Trefethen—and Trefethen sat by and heard these statements which he had requested to be made detailed to Smith and said not a word.
Mr Long—He denied them the day before.
Mr Pillsbury—He denied certain things the day before, but very few. I shall ask you, gentlemen, by and by to consider
What That Visit Meant,
what those men were there for.
So much as to the character of the evidence concerning which, I suppose, the court will give you special instructions and the way in which you are to deal with it on the other evidence in the case, and the effect which you will give to it.
With regard to the statements made to the officers, I have only to say this:
Whatever was said to Mr Emerton on the 24th, the 25th, the 26th of December, was certainly not extorted. Trefethen went there voluntarily each time, and what he said, he said, as far as appears, with perfect freedom, and Mr Emerton, whatever may have happened afterwards, had not then applied any rack, as my friend says, or any screw.
And I call your attention to those as to the statements which he made to the officers on the night of the 10th of January, and those statements are all, gentlemen, of the utmost importance in the case, for they are all we have from Trefethen, except what comes through Mrs Davis.
As to those statements, you will remember that officer Whitney testified that before they sat down and began to talk, or when they sat down and began to talk, he, Whitney told Trefethen: “We are all officers, and you don’t need to say anything unless you choose to,” or words to that effect, and Trefethen went on and talked, and talked, so far as appears, freely; and every word which he said there, and every word which was said in the interview between him and Mrs davis and Smith on the morning of Dec 26, when the whole story was gone over, is evidence in this case.
Now, I say, and this is the point from which I diverge, that
Trefethen Told Two Stories
about his whereabouts on the night of the 23d of December; and I ask you, gentlemen, to mark those statements, for those with the statements of Mamie Worcester and Mrs Trefethen make four statements we have as to his whereabouts during that time, and you will see that no one agrees with any other.
The first statement made to officer Emerton on Dec 24, when asked where he was the night before, was this: That he hitched up his team about 7 o’clock, drove down to the Springs, and that is about a third of a mile, there met his brother Gilbert, whom he hadn’t seen for a year or a hear and a half, changed his mind, went back home with Gilbert and stayed there the rest of the night. That statement was made on the afternoon of Dec 24, less than 24 hours after the time to which it referred.
Mr Foreman, do you know where you were last night, and if I asked you could you give a true account of it? Probably you could, and any honest man and innocent man asked where he was last night, can tell.
There was no time for failure of memory; there was no opportunity for confusion of memory; and if he was an honest or an innocent man there was no occasion to equivocate. And that is the first story he told of his whereabouts the night before.
And bear in mind, gentlemen, that that was told after he knew that Mrs Davis suspected, and, indeed, after she had charged him with Tena’s disappearance; when he saw, as my friend said, the cloud on the horizon—the approaching cloud.
What is His Next Story?
His next account of himself on the night of Dec 23? On the night of Jan 10, when he and Smith were taken to the station, he says this, and now see how different this is from the other story, and how utterly impossible it is that both are true:
That he hitched up his team that night about 20 minutes of 8 to go to Charlestown and that on the way down to the springs he met his brother Gilbert, who got on and rode with him—I believe this is it, I am not absolutely certain, but it is of no particular consequence—on the way to the springs he met his brother Gilbert, who went wit him as far as the springs.
Mr Long—These are the officers’ statements, you mean?
Mr Pillsbury—Yes, these are the officers’ statements of Trefethen’s statements, testified to by Mr Emerton, Mr Whitney and Mr Sullivan. Gilbert had the toothache, got off and went home, and he kept on to Charlestown.
The first story, the day after the 23d, was he hitched up his team about 7, drove down to the springs, met Gilbert, changed his mind, went back and was not out again.
The second story, on the night of the 10th, after he had been thinking this over under some stress for 18 or 20 days, and talking with Smith, who then was around there, had been from the31st of December, and talking with Gilbert, perhaps, and talking, as we know, with Detective Richardson, for he had then been employed in the case, and dragging the river, was that he
Hitched Up His Team
At 7.40, went down to the springs, met Gilbert, who was taken with the toothache, and got off and went home, while he, Trefethen, kept on to Charlestown.
Now, let us see what his mother says. Mamie Worcester, remember, saw him simply come in and go out of that store at some time after 7 o’clock, but we don’t know when.
Mr Long—Quarter past seven.
Mr Pillsbury—Well, she does not fix the time; I have been over her evidence with the jury.
Now, poor Mrs Trefethen says that her son got home that night about 7.15, fed his horse, had his supper, and left home about 8.10.
That story is inconsistent with Mary Worcester’s and is inconsistent with both of Trefethen’s own statements; for his first statement was he hitched up about 7 and drove down to the springs and went back again, meeting Gilbert, which is two-thirds of a mile down and back, which would not take him 15 minutes to do, and if his story is true he would have retuned to the house about 7.15 and was there all the rest of the evening; and his second story was that he hitched up at 7.40 and left home at that time, while his mother says he left home at 8.10, and she is sure about the time, 8.10, no more no less.
Now, gentlemen, here are four stories which the defense have put before you of the whereabouts of Trefethen between 7 and 9 o’clock that night.
As I said to you in the outset, there is no one of them that agrees with any other. Two of them are Trefethen’s own, and both
Cannot Possibly be True.
Which will you take, and why will you take it? And before you take either, gentlemen, I pray you to find a satisfactory answer for that question. Isn’t there just as much reason for believing one as for believing another.
I will except Mamie Worcester from that, because, of course, for the most obvious reasons it is easier to believe her than to believe either of the others, for she is neither indicted here nor the mother of the one indicted.
But all there is to that is that Trefethen came in and went out of that store at some time after 7o’clock, if she knws it was after 7 when she got there, and I don’t think she knows even that.
But as to the other three statements, gentlemen, isn’t there just as much reason for distrusting one as another, and isn’t there a probable reason and more than a probable reason for distrusting all.
Gilbert, if either of defendant’s stories is true, was with him on Wellington bridge that night.
Where is Gilbert? Is he beyond the sea? No, he is at Marshfield.
How can you reconcile the innocence of this defendant with the absence from the witness stand of Gilbert, who they say was with him at the most critical time that night?
Mrs Trefethen says that he ate supper alone that night because he was in a hurry and he didn’t want to wait for the others to sit down with him.
Do you suppose that if he was
In Such a Hurry
he did not leave until 8.10?
Now this man is not accounted for that night.
The defendant is a man well known in Malden, Everett and Charlestown, and there is not one who saw him that night but his poor old mother.
Mrs Davis knew who to send for after passing that anxious night that her daughter did not come home. She sent for Trefethen.
I will give you the benefit of what he said to her then.
He denied having been connected with Tena’s disappearance.
She commanded him then to go to the police station. He arrived at the police station late in the afternoon.
Why did he not go there sooner? It took him five and one-half hours.
How are you going to reconcile that circumstance with the action of an innocent man?
He tells Chief Emerton that Tena told him she would commit suicide, and that she had the stuff to do it with.
That is the introduction of innocence into this case.
I wish to call your attention to the saying that a false reason is the first evidence of guilt and crime.
What next? Here is one of the most significant episodes of this case. On the morning of Dec 26 he goes with his brother-in-law Smith, who is a machinist, and tells Mrs Davis that Smith is a detective, and asks her to tell him all about Tena and asks for a photograph.
What did Trefethen want of a photograph of Tena? Why did he perpetrate that fraud upon her?
What next? In the Malden district court, officer Brown heard a conversation between Smith, the defendant, and Mr Coggan.
Officer Brown heard Trefethen say to Mr Coggan that
He Did See Tena the night she disappeared. It is fair for me to call to your attention that it is agreed that Mr Coggan, if he took the stand, would deny this.
I omitted to make one suggestion. My friend asks you to believe that Tena Davis committed suicide, and in support of that belief said that Tena Davis probably took a horse car.
But there is no pretence [sic] that at the time she was standing on the corner of Ferry st