the Wingate home, and I was relieved to find the house and grounds were empty. Although the Wingates had spent the night there at Mrs. Wingate’s insistance, they were gone this morning; their note directed us to look around as we wished. I showed Alistair around the perimeter first, alert for anything that might appearunusual. The light this morning was good, and I hoped we would uncover something that had gone unnoticed in last evening’s twilight.
After finding nothing out of the ordinary outdoors, we returned to the house and searched Stella’s third-floor room, for she had not yet returned. According to Miss Wingate, all her clothes were accounted for but her purse was gone. That meant she had taken money, probably as a means of travel, which supported my theory she had sought out friends after yesterday’s tragedy.
“In terms of the Smedley woman, I take it you believe Michael Fromley was, in fact, guilty?” I asked.
“Of the assault, yes.” Alistair was matter-of-fact. “He later admitted it to me, and he said as much to his brother. Given the weakness of the case, the prosecutor and judge were willing to dismiss the attempted-murder charges. He faced lesser charges, as well, but for those, I convinced the prosecutor to accept a plea bargain involving supervised probation. Wallingford was eager for Michael to enter a plea and save the family from an ugly trial—but only if something could be done to rehabilitate Michael. It did the family no good to keep him out of jail this time, if it meant he would only go in for something worse next time. That was where I came in.”
We made our way back to the second floor and the room where Sarah had been murdered. There, I took additional notes, measuring each individual bloodstain with particular attention to its distance from where Sarah’s corpse had been positioned. Alistair watched me silently for some moments before he continued his story.
“For me, it was a chance like no other.” Alistair’s face was flushed and animated, and his voice reflected his passionatefeeling. “I had long envied Lacassagne, the French criminologist who succeeded in getting jailed criminals to tell him their most intimate thoughts. He was interested in all manner of criminals, however, whereas I wished to focus upon violent offenders. Following his example, I went to Sing Sing and Riker’s and interviewed the prisoners there. I even spoke with death row inmates in the hours before their execution. But you’re well aware how quickly New York executes its violent offenders once they are convicted and their appeals exhausted. Remember when Leon Czolgosz assassinated President McKinley? He was convicted at trial near the end of September, and he died in the electric chair only a month later.”
Of course I remembered, for President McKinley’s death had elevated Teddy Roosevelt into office. “But surely,” I interjected, “that was an unusual case, given the circumstances?”
He conceded as much. “It was exceptionally fast, I agree. But even normal cases proceed quickly. If there’s to be no appeal, most convicted offenders are executed within months. And once they lose an appeal, their life is measured in days and weeks. That is barely enough time to gain their confidence, much less scratch the surface of their minds. Not to mention that some death row inmates would rather spend their final hours doing something other than talking to me.” He flashed a self-deprecating smile before he continued talking. “But with Michael, I had a living, breathing research subject who was mine to keep. I needn’t yield him to the executioner in a matter of months. It was a chance—and a chance like no other—to look into a violent mind still very much in formation. How did Michael’s mind work? What motivated him? Why had he developed so differently from his siblings? And was there a way we could intervene and rehabilitate him before he actually crossed the line?”
I looked up
After finding nothing out of the ordinary outdoors, we returned to the house and searched Stella’s third-floor room, for she had not yet returned. According to Miss Wingate, all her clothes were accounted for but her purse was gone. That meant she had taken money, probably as a means of travel, which supported my theory she had sought out friends after yesterday’s tragedy.
“In terms of the Smedley woman, I take it you believe Michael Fromley was, in fact, guilty?” I asked.
“Of the assault, yes.” Alistair was matter-of-fact. “He later admitted it to me, and he said as much to his brother. Given the weakness of the case, the prosecutor and judge were willing to dismiss the attempted-murder charges. He faced lesser charges, as well, but for those, I convinced the prosecutor to accept a plea bargain involving supervised probation. Wallingford was eager for Michael to enter a plea and save the family from an ugly trial—but only if something could be done to rehabilitate Michael. It did the family no good to keep him out of jail this time, if it meant he would only go in for something worse next time. That was where I came in.”
We made our way back to the second floor and the room where Sarah had been murdered. There, I took additional notes, measuring each individual bloodstain with particular attention to its distance from where Sarah’s corpse had been positioned. Alistair watched me silently for some moments before he continued his story.
“For me, it was a chance like no other.” Alistair’s face was flushed and animated, and his voice reflected his passionatefeeling. “I had long envied Lacassagne, the French criminologist who succeeded in getting jailed criminals to tell him their most intimate thoughts. He was interested in all manner of criminals, however, whereas I wished to focus upon violent offenders. Following his example, I went to Sing Sing and Riker’s and interviewed the prisoners there. I even spoke with death row inmates in the hours before their execution. But you’re well aware how quickly New York executes its violent offenders once they are convicted and their appeals exhausted. Remember when Leon Czolgosz assassinated President McKinley? He was convicted at trial near the end of September, and he died in the electric chair only a month later.”
Of course I remembered, for President McKinley’s death had elevated Teddy Roosevelt into office. “But surely,” I interjected, “that was an unusual case, given the circumstances?”
He conceded as much. “It was exceptionally fast, I agree. But even normal cases proceed quickly. If there’s to be no appeal, most convicted offenders are executed within months. And once they lose an appeal, their life is measured in days and weeks. That is barely enough time to gain their confidence, much less scratch the surface of their minds. Not to mention that some death row inmates would rather spend their final hours doing something other than talking to me.” He flashed a self-deprecating smile before he continued talking. “But with Michael, I had a living, breathing research subject who was mine to keep. I needn’t yield him to the executioner in a matter of months. It was a chance—and a chance like no other—to look into a violent mind still very much in formation. How did Michael’s mind work? What motivated him? Why had he developed so differently from his siblings? And was there a way we could intervene and rehabilitate him before he actually crossed the line?”
I looked up
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