 My name is Taryn Edwards and I'm one of the librarians here at Mechanics Institute and so I'd like to welcome you all. But every now and then we have something wonderful that is made by one of our members. And so I am delighted to introduce Phil Williams, who has been a member of Mechanics for 35 years, but I only just met him about six months ago. Welcome to London's Central Criminal Court, the Old Bailey. It is March 6, 1917 and you are all convened here as a jury to revisit the verdict of a trial of the accused murderers of my grand-uncle, Private Alfred Williams of the 20th Battalion, the Canadian Expeditionary Force. My role tonight is master of ceremonies, but sometimes as clerk of a court, and sometimes just an arrath marita. There will be five parts to tonight's proceedings. I will start by telling you the background to the story. Then we will hear how the murder happened from the witnesses' own words spoken at the Old Bailey trial. After a break for refreshments, you, the jury, will hear the prosecution and defense present their case. You will then consider the evidence and vote guilty or not guilty for the accused. Only after I hear your verdict will I tell you the story of what actually happened after the real jury handed down its verdict in 1917. I know very little about who Alfred was or what he was like. I first learned about him when I asked my father to write his autobiography. In it, he described how his family first heard of Alfred's murder when he was nine years old. In 1916, during World War I, my grandfather, Arthur, who was Alfred's brother, was a sergeant in the British Army away in France. So it had become my father's task to read the newspaper every morning to his mother during breakfast. On November the 27th, he read to her the following piece in the daily news. Last night, in the vicinity of Waterloo Station, Private Alfred Williams of a Canadian infantry was picked up in dying condition and found to be dead upon arrival at Charing Cross Hospital. Foul play is suspected. After I retired four years ago, I discovered a new vocation, writing about my experiences and family history. My father's short account of that morning's conversation with my grandmother had always stuck in my mind. So I started to investigate what happened that night of November the 26th, 1916, when Private Alfred Williams was murdered. I found out that Alfred had been a professional soldier just like my grandfather. He grew up in Canterbury, across the street from the barracks of the East Kent Regiment. And when the Boer War broke out in 1898, like my grandfather had enlisted at the age of 18, Alfred was probably disappointed when instead of being sent to fight the Boers in South Africa, he was shipped off to spend years in garrison postings in India, Burma and Yemen. But as soon as he finished his service in 1909, he set sail in an emigrant ship to Canada. There in Toronto, he worked as a general labourer, married Katie Powell, had two young daughters, and by the age of 35, he had prospered, and it seemed that life was settled for him. I don't know why he abandoned his family and volunteered for the Canadian Army in 1915. Perhaps he was nostalgic for the army life. Perhaps he was persuaded by patriotic zeal. His enlistment record describes him as having a fair complexion, brown eyes and dark brown hair, and being five foot six inch tall, average height for men at that time. On his right arm was a tattoo of a girl on a shamrock. On his left was a girl and flags. This is the only picture I have of him. It is in this newspaper report of his murder that I found in the archives of the Toronto Star. This was when I first became aware that Alfred's death had been a media event as well as a tragedy. Because murders were infrequent in Britain, murder trials at the Old Bailey were major news events. When I googled crime in the home front in World War I, with one click, I arrived at an account of a trial of Alfred's accused murderers. What I read seemed like a simple clear cut story, a pointless crime, followed by swift and satisfying punishment by the British justice system. But I was still curious to find out more. Why was Private Williams in London that night? Anyone who has watched documentaries about World War I has probably seen this image still from a film of a British soldier carrying his dying comrade. Oops, I'm having a malfunction. There we go. This is a picture of a British soldier carrying his dying comrade out of the trenches. It has become an iconic image of the Great War and was filmed during the Battle of Assam in 1916. This so-called battle that started in July 1st was a long drawn-out futile offensive that lasted four months and resulted in 420,000 British and British Empire casualties. Just to advance for trench line, just five miles. The 20th Battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Force had been in the thick of a fighting. When the offensive peed it out in the rains of November, literally bogged down in the mud. The respite provided the first opportunity to give our an hour to the exhausted frontline soldiers. But Canadians were given ten days leave, their first since arriving in France 11 months before. London was only 150 miles away and a very wide across the English Channel from Assam battlefield. When I was researching a different story, what my grandfather had been doing in the Boer War, I came across an announcement that all records of important old Bailey trials kept at the British National Archive for being unsealed after 75 years. So on my next trip to London, I took the train to the Archive, which is next to Kew Gardens. After filling in forms and showing my passport, I donned white gloves and I was given a file box. It contained two full-scap files each about 50 pages long and a large wall chart that you will see tonight. At first, I was disappointed. This was not a complete trial record. These were documents with transcripts of witness testimony from examinations first at the coroner's inquest and then at the criminal court during the weeks before the trial. Then I started reading and I was quickly transported into the drama of what actually happened that cold night of November 26, 1916. Later I realized why this narrative has been so compelling. The sequence and content of the witness statements have been expertly staged by an experienced prosecutor to tell the murder story as an unfolding drama piece by piece so that a jury like you could understand. The first witness statement I read and which you will hear from tonight is by a Canadian soldier, Private Martin, who explains how four of them went for drinks in a pub called the Sussex Arms. It was a shock when I read this. I knew this pub, the Sussex Arms. Back in the 60s, when I was a student at the University of London, me and my mates used to go get cheap stand-up theatre tickets for shows on St. Martin Lane. Then afterwards go for a quick pint of the Sussex Arms afterwards. We would sit outside and watch Swinging London switch by from nearby Carnaby Street. Even then, the pub had a glitzy, slightly sleazy reputation. After all, it was in seven dials, not near Waterloo Station, as the daily news had mistakenly reported. In Victorian times, the Seven Dalles District, situated between Soho and Covent Garden, had an evil reputation as one of the worst slums in London. It was called Seven Dalles because of the intersection of seven streets and was described as a rookery, a collection of ramshackle unsanitary tenements overpopulated by the poor and what was called the criminal classes. Charles Dickens wrote about it in the 1850s. And here is one of Cruikshank's illustrations for Dickens' sketches by Buzz, showing a fight outside the crown pub. Even as late as the 1920s, Agatha Christie used the title Seven Dalles Mystery to evoke the aura of crime. By 1916, Seven Dalles was becoming a little bit more respectable as new music halls, theaters, and cinemas were opening nearby in what we now know as London's West End Theater District. Then as now, it was a place to have a good time, especially for soldiers in wartime. You can see the crown pub still here and opposite the Shaftesbury Hotel. But to have a good time, you needed money. And this is what soldiers on lead had to have. You will hear witnesses, Private Martin and Private Head, describe how the first place they went to after getting off the train from Dover at Victoria Station was the Army pay office. Here, the soldiers claimed approximately 25 pounds each in cash, equivalent to about $2,000 today. You will hear them describe how they first checked into the Shaftesbury Hotel, and then went across the street to have the same crown pub before heading down St. Martin's Lane to the Sussex Arms. Now, Seven Dalles is rejuvenated as a tourist attraction, although you can still have a pint at the crown pub. And its interior is pretty much unchanged from Charles Dickinson's time. Just last year, the Sussex Arms pub was demolished. But this is what it looked like two years ago when I went there to retrace Alfred Steps. I found that the original pub had been blown up by an IRA bomb in 1991, and then completely rebuilt with a modern decor. But the post box outside to the left here, which you will hear mentioned by the prosecution's key witness, Emily Spiller, was still there. St. Martin's Lane, where you will hear her describe the crime took place, leads north to the Seven Dalles and is off to the left of the photograph. You will hear many witnesses describe how dark it was in St. Martin's Lane outside the Sussex Arms pub that night. The moon had not risen and the sky was overcast. And you will infer that a pool of light shone by a single dimmed gas streetlight on the pavement below explains why some witnesses were able to see a drama unfold when everywhere else it was pitch dark. And why was it so dark? It was wartime. A blackout was in effect because of Zeppelin air raids. Blackout regulations were not the only laws enacted during the First World War that affect this case. Alcoholism was considered a major threat to munitions production. So pub closing times have been enacted and were rigorously enforced. Promptly at nine o'clock on Sundays, all pubs stopped serving and immediately ejected their customers out onto the street. If you hadn't finished your drink by this time, you attempted to hide your half empty glass under your coat and carry it out onto the street. I've done this myself in my student days. The sound of glass breaking on the pavement is an important evidence that explains why witnesses noticed the events of that night. During World War I, many police officers joined the Army. So a force of volunteer special constables was deputized to patrol areas like Soho and Seven Dials. Special constables were usually recruited from the upper classes and were not particularly well trained in police procedure. You will hear from Special Sergeant Godwin St. Jean Loeb who was patrolling St. Martin's Lane that night. The story of a Canadian war hero who had survived the horrors of the Sun's trenches only to be murdered in London six hours after stepping off the train received extensive newspaper coverage. Public opinion demanded swift action and Detective Sergeant Collins of the Metropolitan Police responded quickly. Within three days he had identified, arrested and charged two young men with murder at Bow Street Police Station. We don't know the exact format of a criminal trial. It appears that the prosecution relied both on direct testimony and the exact transcripts you will hear to verbatim tonight because some of the key witnesses had to return to the Army in France. Recognizing the publicity surrounding this murder, the government assigned one of its most senior judges to the case, the right honorable Lord Courage. Lord Courage's father had been the Lord Chief Justice of England and his son was well known in London society. Here he has caricatured in the magazine Vanity Fair. But the barrister retained for the prosecution. Mr. Richard Muir was even more famous in the popular media than the judge. Mr. Muir of the Temple Bar had prosecuted most of the high-profile murder cases in the previous two decades, including that of a notorious American, Dr. Crippen, the subject of two movies and several documentaries. He had a fierce reputation for diligence and thoroughness and you'll hear this in a way he's organized a prosecution's testimony tonight. I'm not an expert on criminal matters and I only have a minor criminal record. But to make up for the illegal ignorance, we're very fortunate to have here with us tonight an expert in criminality, a real American barrister. Lief is a Deputy District Attorney and Prosecutor of the State of California. You'll be hearing a lot more about Lief Douche over the next eight months because he's running for the position of District Attorney for the City of San Francisco. Lief also happens to be my nephew and had read the article I had written about Alfred's murder. He took an interest in this 100-year-old case, read through all the witness statements and over dinner last year gave me some interesting insights that helped me think about the story that I had written about in a different way. Instead of seeing words, I wanted to hear the words, the voices of real people, of witnesses telling me what they saw and then the voices of a jury telling me how they judged guilt and innocence. This is what led me to approach the Mechanics Institute about holding this event. So I've asked Lief to share some insights with you before we hear from the witnesses themselves and then after the break and before we all convene as the jury, he will take on the role of the famous barrister, Mr. Muir and sum up the prosecution's case as it was reported in the press of the time. Lief, can you advise the jury for us? You can see the resemblance here. Thank you. Thank you, Phil, and thank you all so much for taking an interest in the story and in the criminal justice system. I wanted as a prosecutor to give you a little bit of a peek behind the curtain of what we do and how we think about these cases as we're putting them together and then advise you on some of the basic considerations when you're listening to the testimony tonight and making your decision. So first of all, given that this is a criminal case, it's only appropriate for me to start with a confession. And it's a confession that will probably get me kicked out of the next prosecutor's conference I try and attend, which is we don't know when we're going into a trial exactly what happened. Unless there is video tape, you know, surveillance footage of the actual crime from the beginning to end and afterward, we don't know. So we pour through dozens of witness interviews and clues and forensic evidence and we piece together our best estimation and theory of what happened. If you think in mathematical terms, there's a scatter of data points out there. We're trying to find the best fit line that explains the most data points, but realistically it's not going to cover all of them. So then you present your theory, but you also try to come up with some explanations or ways of minimizing those data points that don't make sense. And I think that, you know, that is something that's on full display here in this case. The reason you have to be confident in the theory you present is because if you get up in front of a jury or a defense attorney and you say, look, it happened in one of three ways. They'll jump up and they say, you just heard from the prosecutor. He doesn't know what happened. That's reasonable doubt. You must acquit. And so there is kind of this legal fiction, this false sense of confidence that we have to bring to the work of saying, here's the theory. I think it's the best one I can come up with. I'm going to commit to it. Now in terms of factors to consider in evaluating testimony, how many of you have been on a jury here in San Francisco? OK, so maybe a third or half. So these will be familiar to you. These are the sorts of jury instructions you get from the judge. These were the most important of the 15 that I picked out. Number one, how well could the witness see or hear the events? Phil mentioned that, you know, this is a poorly lit blackout crime. So when you hear, you know, what was their vantage point? What was the lighting like? What could they hear? What could they see? How good was their memory? This is an interesting one because sometimes there's real memory and kind of imagined memory. So you want to look for, are they really definite about certain things but then have amnesia or seem to forget, you know, other aspects of it? How consistent is their memory over time? Is there a motive to lie? Obviously someone being charged with a capital offense has a significant motive to lie. Someone who might be in a relationship with one of the defendants would have a motive to lie. Someone who had no connection to them wouldn't have a motive to lie. What's their demeanor? This is a tricky one because, you know, as fine as the actors and actresses we have here, they aren't the actual witnesses describing it but I still think it's a fair consideration for you tonight. How consistent is their testimony over time? Did they say things previously in a police interview that are in conflict with what they're saying now? Are there internal inconsistencies in their testimony tonight? Are they corroborated by other evidence in the case? Are they corroborated by other witnesses or they just on their own? And then finally, have there been any promises of leniency? Are they in a multi-defendant case, the first one to try and take a deal? Those kind of ties in with bias and motive. So the last thing I'll say, kind of the overarching theme of all of these criminal cases is reasonable doubt, right? It is my burden as a prosecutor to prove a defendant's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Now it's important to remember what is reasonable doubt and what's not. The instruction doesn't say you need to find someone guilty beyond any possible or conceivable or imaginary doubt. No, it's beyond a reasonable doubt. So when you hear testimony from the defense, think at the end of the day, is that reasonable? Is that the most rational explanation of what happened? Or does that seem like something that someone charged with capital murder would make up? So with all of that in mind, you'll be seeing me in this role in about 45 minutes, but let the proceedings begin. Thank you, Leib. Well, it's now time to open the trial and call the accused. No, you don't sit there. You don't sit there and stand up. In the prisoner's dock on the 6th of March, you see two young men, William James Robinson, is 26 with brown hair and haze lies. He has short, only five foot three, and an observant juror would see you here. As he walked to the stand, he had a pronounced limp and noticed tattoos on his hands. We don't know much about John Henry Gray other than what the witnesses tell us. Some of them describe him as flashily dressed. He is 24 years old and a few inches taller than Robinson. William James Robinson and John Henry Gray are charged for that they, on the 26th day of November, 1916, at the parish of St. Martin in the Fields in the County of London, did murder Alfred Williams. How do you plead? I'm guilty. The next order of business is to introduce evidence. This consists of two maps and two knives. I will first describe the maps because understanding where each of the witnesses were that night and what they were doing is crucial for understanding what happened. We will show you the knives later. The prosecution had prepared for the jury a plan of the saloon bar of the Sussex Arms and a map of the St. Martin's Lane outside. Here is the original of that exhibit from the National Archives, and you can still see the tag from the trial exhibit. Let's take a closer look at the Sussex Arms plan because the first few witnesses will be describing what they saw inside the pub. Here you see swing doors, you see swing doors that led into the saloon bar from outside in St. Martin's Lane. And at the top here, you will see an automatic piano noted. One of the witnesses describes how my Grand Uncle Alfred was fascinated by this new fangled contraption. He kept winding it up to make sure it played all evening. Keep the home fires burning and roses of Piccadilly were the big hit tunes of that time in 1916. We will now hear the exact words of nine of the 16 witnesses presented in the order set by Mr. Muir to build his case for prosecution. In the interest of time this evening, I've eliminated some of the witnesses who duplicate testimony. I've also had to shorten some of the statements to help superfluous material. Some of the witnesses were cross-examined and re-examined. And I've included in their statements some relevant additional information from those responses. And in a few instances, I've added words of clarification from the same witnesses testimony given at the coroner's inquest. So I'll now call the first witness for the prosecution, Private George Martin. I am George Ernest Martin, Private 20th Battalion, Canadian Expeditionary Force. I arrived in London from France on Sunday 26th November. I was in company with the deceased man, Williams, Lance Corporal Markle and Private Head. We four went to Milbank pay office about 4 p.m. that afternoon and each drew some money. I drew 30 pounds in one-pound treasury notes. We all four later went to Shaftesbury Hotel and booked the room. We all had a meal there about six o'clock and then went to the Crown Public House, just opposite the hotel. We all had some refreshment. From there, we all went to the Sussex Public House. We got there around seven. We had a drink there. There was an automatic piano there. Two ladies were in the corner of the bar, a girl sitting on the seat, another came in. I didn't notice anyone else. We were in the bar in which was the automatic piano. Markle and I left the public house before the others. We went with the two young girls. Before I went out, I handed 26 pounds to Williams. I took it from my right shirt pocket. Williams put the money in his trouser. You're now called Private William Head. I am the said William Allen Head, Private. 20th Battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Force. In company with the deceased Williams, Lance Corporal Markle and Martin, I drew pay from the mill bank on the 26th of November and I withdrew 25 pounds. All four of us went to the Shaftesbury Hotel where we went from eventually to the Sussex Public House and this at about seven o'clock. We were all in the bar, which had an automatic piano. Martin and Markle went out with the two girls. The manageress passed a remark on their goings out with these girls. She said, it's gonna be too bad if they had any money on them. Williams then showed me that he had Martin's money in the palm of his hand. He took it from his right trouser pocket and the manageress could see it. But the other people in the bar when he did that were behind the back of us. The deceased man and I remained in the public house till closing time at about nine o'clock. I was the worst for liquor then. I didn't get into a conversation with anyone who was there. Williams talked around the place, but most of the time we were talking to the manageress. I didn't notice the face of anyone that was in there. Williams and I came out together, all of us in the bar came out together and the bar had been perhaps half full. Williams started up towards the Shaftesbury Hotel. Something happened. But it was too quick and I don't remember anything of it. Williams got hurt, it seems, to be from a blow. I had only a faint recollection of it. I couldn't see by whom the blow had been struck. I can't say how many people were around me or whether the blow was struck by a man or a woman. Williams went down on the footway. I don't know what happened to me. I remember the whistle being blown, but I don't remember anything more until I woke up at the hotel in the next morning. My memory is uncertain because of the amount of drink that I had had. I had a good many drinks. More than six, I don't remember honestly how many. I remained in the Sussex close on two hours, seven a.m. to nine, pardon me, seven p.m. to nine p.m. and had a large number of drinks there and Williams would have had just about the same number of drinks in both of the public houses. I guess Williams was just about in the same state as I was. After we left the Sussex, I just had a slight recollection of what happened to Williams. It was dark. Thank you, private head. So we now call George Young. I am George Young, Manager Sussex Arms Public House. In Sunday evening, 26th November, I was in the bar practically the whole time. I remember four Canadian soldiers coming in about 7 p.m. One of them I've since seen dead. This man and one other were in the bar up to closing time, which is 9 p.m. on Sundays. I know now a woman named Emily Spiller. She was in the saloon bar in that evening. She remained till closing. I know now a woman named Maude Coleman. She was in the saloon bar that evening till closing time also. Spiller sat by the flap entrance to the bar on the stool. Coleman sat practically behind the till on the seat by the stairs. I saw the defendants there. They came in between quarter and 10 minutes to nine together. Robinson sat by the automatic piano. The two Canadians were close to the fireplace with their backs to the automatic piano. About here. I didn't see the defendants speak to either of the soldiers. I saw Gray speak to Maude Coleman a few minutes after he entered. Can't say how long he was talking to her. We were very busy that night. Bar was pretty full. Filled with soldiers, civilians, women. There wasn't any angry words in the house and nothing to attract my attention to any of the customers until closing time. At closing time when the people left, defendants went out the upper St. Martin's Lane exit. Soldiers too went out by that door. It's very dark outside of this public house. At this point, the witness testimony shifts from describing what was happening inside the pub to what was happening outside in the street. This perspective illustrates the scene in St. Martin's Lane right after closing time on the 26th of November. We now call Emily Spiller. I'm Emily Spiller. I'm single. I've been a trick cyclist, but I've met with an accident and I am now of no occupation. On Sunday night, 26th November, I was in the Saloon Bar Sussex Public House. I was alone when I went in and I was sitting down by the counter flap on a stool. I saw two Canadian soldiers in the bar. One of those was a witness I have since seen here called Head and the other a man I have since seen dead. And I saw both prisoners there. They walked in at 10 minutes to nine together. I knew both of them by sight. I saw Robinson go and speak to the two Canadians, but they turned their backs. Gray then spoke to two women. The Canadians were just by the automatic piano. I didn't get into conversation with anyone in the bar. I was speaking mostly to Mrs. Gray, the manageress, and there were a lot of people in the bar. Mr. Young called time and all in the bar went out by St. Martin's Lane entrance. The Canadians went out together. I didn't exactly think they were drunk, just jolly. Robinson and Gray went out together just after the soldiers. I couldn't say if the women Gray spoke to were there then. Robinson and Gray went out immediately after the Canadians and I noticed Robinson catch hold of the deceased arm at the door. A short while after I followed out. When I got outside, the two Canadians were standing outside Parker's about there and there was a big saddlery place next door with the two prisoners. I didn't see anyone else with them. I don't think I've since seen the women Gray spoke to. I wasn't taking much notice. The soldiers and prisoners were talking for about three minutes. I could not hear any row or quarrel. I was standing at the letter box just outside the Sussex. I was alone. There were a lot of soldiers there. I was watching these four men. I've known the prisoners a decent while, but not to speak to. After they'd been talking, they walked along the road towards the Shaftesbury Hotel on the pavement. Robinson was nearest the houses and the deceased was next to him and the other side, the other soldier and then Gray was on the outside. I went across the road towards Aldridge's and then I met a friend, a New Zealander in the middle of the road facing Aldridge's door. The four men were then just outside Pottington's. Wig shop number 12, I think. They were standing still and they were alone, talking. The two Canadians were facing the Shaftesbury Hotel and the two civilians were facing the Sussex. Gray was still nearest the curb and Robinson was nearest the houses and I saw Robinson lift up his left hand and strike the deceased. As the deceased went to the floor, I heard the clatter of glass. Robinson struck him high up on the right side. The deceased staggered and fell and I heard a clatter of glass and said to my friend, what's that? Before Robinson struck the deceased, his hand was in his left hand jacket pocket. He wasn't wearing an overcoat. He took it from that pocket and struck immediately. I couldn't see if he had anything in the hand but then I saw them running up the road. The soldier was between the two prisoners and the soldier seemed to be being dragged along. They were along the pavement. There's a street lamp three or four yards away from there. They were standing close by the lamp when I saw the blow struck. I had a hand electric torch in my possession and I turned it on and shone it in the deceased man and I saw blood coming from the right side of the neck pouring like a tap. The special constable came on us all of a sudden when I put my torch on. He didn't ask, who done it? But I said to him, I know who's done this. I don't remember if he asked anymore. After I reached the deceased, he neither moved nor spoke. I don't remember if anyone blew a whistle. I was on my knees and I remained there until he was removed by the ambulance. I'd been in the Sussex from 6.30 till closing time and had two Guinnesses. I was in no sense the worse for liquor. I'm often in the Sussex. It's a very busy public house, particularly in the evening. On this evening it was filled. There were many soldiers, about a dozen. Prisoners, these two came in about 10 minutes to nine. I looked up at the clock and had asked Mrs. Ray if the clock was fast. Quite certain the soldiers were spoken to by Robinson. He spoke to one of them certainly, who turned his back on him. When the landlord called time, the New Zealanders and Australians went out when the two Canadians also, they were on their own. They didn't speak to either of the New Zealanders or the Australians. Mr. Yonkel time at seven or six minutes before, the majority didn't leave until before nine and I was one of the last. I waited three or four minutes by the pillar box and there were several soldiers outside by the public house. I didn't see any others going up St. Martin's Lane. I stood there watching the Australians because I heard there was going to be some bother and I expected trouble between the Australians and the two prisoners. I crossed over the road going home to catch my bus. I met my friend in the middle of the road and stood there and as I talked to him my attention wasn't concentrated on him. Shortly after I met him I saw the prisoners and the Canadians outside Pottington's. The first sound I heard was the clatter of glass. Robinson struck with his left hand which was inside his jacket pocket and I couldn't say where his right hand was. I was about five yards away, my idea of five yards. I didn't see anything in Robinson's hand and I can't say if the soldier fell down as a result of the blow or of tripping but I heard the clatter of glass as the soldier was falling. It wasn't when he struck the ground. The clatter was just as though you had dropped a glass on the stones. Thank you Mr. Spillock, we now call Maude Coleman. I'm Maude Coleman. I'm single and a factory worker. On the evening of Sunday 26th November I was in the Cessex Arms Public House. I went in with my father and a lady friend about eight o'clock. I remained there till closing time. The prisoners came in the bar while I was there about 10 minutes to nine. Gray spoke to me and asked me to have a drink. He remained talking to me till closing time. I didn't see any Canadian soldiers in the Cessex. At closing time I left the Cessex with Gray. I didn't notice if there was anyone behind me when I went out. I went out at St. Martin's Lane side. When I came out with Gray we walked up St. Martin's Lane opposite Aldridge's which is where that West sign is there on the diagram. On the pavement, Gray and I were alone. Gray was on my right hand side nearest the houses. When opposite Aldridge's Canadian soldier stopped in front of me and said he was going to see me home or something to that effect. That was the soldier now dead. I couldn't see where the soldier came from. He stepped in front of me. He overtook me and stepped in front of me. I didn't see him with anyone else. He said something about seeing me home. I never answered him. He said it loud enough for Gray to hear. Gray pushed him away. He pushed him in the chest with the right hand, not hard. I never noticed him saying anything. As he pushed the soldier, the next I saw of the soldier he fell. He was hit from behind and he fell. As he fell, Robinson faced me. I didn't see where Robinson had come from. When I saw him he was alone. That was the first time I'd seen Robinson since we left the Cessex. I didn't see what the soldier was hit with. I didn't see Robinson hit him. I didn't see anyone there who could have hit him except Robinson. I heard no glass breaking. The soldier fell back. Robinson then faced me. He went away then. I didn't see which way he went. He disappeared. He didn't try to help the soldier. Neither did Gray nor I. I didn't take any notice. I didn't speak to the soldier or anyone else. Gray said nothing. I saw blood when the soldier fell. I didn't see anyone when the soldier fell beyond the soldier, Robinson and Gray. A special constable came up and got hold of Gray. I said don't take him. He never done it. We were then by the side of the soldier. We hadn't moved away. I didn't notice Gray say anything to the special. The special then let Gray go. Then Gray and I went away towards Shaftesbury Avenue. We went into Netschy's tea shop there. Before we got there we saw Robinson just by the Shaftesbury Hotel. He was with a colonial soldier. I think he was an Australian by his hat. Robinson and the soldier walking along in the same direction as ourselves. We overtook them and passed them. Neither Gray nor Robinson spoke as we passed. Robinson and the Australian came into Netschy's. I don't know whether we or they were there first but we all sat at the same table. Gray and I left after five minutes. I never noticed Gray or Robinson say anything to one another while we were there. I wasn't with them long enough to notice how they were with regard to drink. Gray seemed all right. I wasn't drunk but I've been drinking since eight o'clock. Neither Gray nor Robinson spoke about the soldier. Robinson was too much interested in the Australian. Gray and I went out to the Cafe Conte, Charing Cross Road, and stayed there about 10 minutes. I was with Gray till 2 a.m. between 9 p.m. and 2 a.m. neither Gray nor I mentioned that soldier. I didn't see any Canadian soldier who was with the deceased man. The Sussex Bar contained more soldiers than anyone else. At closing time I went out with Gray. After we came out we went straight up toward Neches. The Canadian soldiers stepped out in front of us alone. I never noticed if the Canadian was drunk or sober. Gray pushed him away when he said something about seeing me home. I shouldn't think that pushed him to fall. From the time I met Gray in the Sussex till 2 a.m. we never parted. Gray went up the road with me. It isn't true that Gray and Robinson were dragging a drunken soldier up the street. I never noticed anybody shout when this happened. When I resumed my walk with Gray after the soldier fell I didn't know he was dead. After leaving the Sussex the first time I saw Robinson was when the soldier fell. I don't know where he came from. When Gray pushed the soldier he went to take his coat off. I didn't hear him say anything. It was when he had undone his coat that the soldier was struck from behind. I didn't notice if he had got it over his shoulders. I never noticed where his hands were. He went to take his coat off to fight Gray. I believe, and he was struck from behind. As Gray pushed him, as he went to take his coat off, he was struck from behind. Thank you, Colman. Now call Special Sergeant Godwin St. John Loeb. Your Honor, Lord Coleridge, many women of the jury. I am Godwin St. John Loeb. I'm a member of the London Stock Exchange. I'm a Sergeant of the Special Constabulary E Division. On Sunday, 26 November, I was on duty in uniform about 9 p.m. I was passing down Upper St. Martin's Lane just after 9 o'clock. I was with Special Constable Burke going in a southerly direction on the east side of Upper St. Martin's Lane. I was passing a small collection of persons at a guess eight or 10 civilians, soldiers, and women. They were standing on the curb. And some, I think, were in the roadway, but I wasn't taking much notice. I think they were a little to the south of the lamppost, about opposite number 13 or 14 along the way there. I noticed a slight altercation. Special Constable Burke and I went on for two or three yards. Then my attention was attracted by a smashing of glass to my left near the houses. I couldn't say where the second sound seemed to come from. I turned around and saw a man in uniform advancing toward a civilian coming south. The civilian had a woman on each side. His back was toward me. I saw the civilian when the soldier reached him push him back. The soldier fell backwards immediately on his back. I did not see the soldier at any time endeavor to take his coat off. When I'd seen the soldier fall, I went after the civilian who, with two women, had moved away from the fallen soldier in a northerly direction. I overtook him. He wouldn't have gone more than four or five yards when I overtook him. I kept him in view all the time and I spoke to him. I recognize him here, the prisoner Gray. I said to him, what did you push him for? Or words to that effect? He said, he shouldn't have molested her. One of the women obstructed me at the time I was with Gray and kept on saying, he's done nothing. I've not been able to identify the woman. I had passed the soldier lying on the pavement before I reached Gray. When I passed him, he was lying there alone. Having spoken to Gray, I turned to see what had happened to the soldier. When I got there, I think two or three people had also gotten there. Amongst them, a woman with a torch. She was not, to my knowledge, one of those I have mentioned as being Gray or with Gray. I saw the soldier lying in the same position as I passed him with his head north and his feet to the south. I saw he was bleeding profusely from the back of his head. The people who were there were trying to stop the bleeding. I told Gray to stop when I went to attend the soldier. I don't know if he stopped. I was busy with the soldier. I could not see and don't know where special Constable Birx was. It was very dark. I called him and told him to blow his whistle and send for an ambulance. I couldn't see a Gray again that night, to my knowledge. I waited until the ambulance came and the soldier was removed. I went with the man to Endles Street Hospital in the ambulance. I could recognize the woman with the torch. I saw her at the inquest. I believe her name is Emily Spiller. When I was attending to the soldier, I did not see any broken glass in the neighborhood of his head. I have not often been on duty in Upper St. Martin's Lane, but I know it. It is a particularly dark thoroughfare under present conditions. The night was dark. On this night, you couldn't see across the road to distinguish anyone. I say I shouldn't recognize a person on the other side of the road, but I don't say that I couldn't distinguish between a man and a woman who were there on the other side of the street. Thank you, soldier. Now call Gunnar Rhodes. I am Walter Henry Rhodes, a gunner with the New Zealand Fetal Artillery, and presently at the Horned Church convalescent camp, Horned Church Essex. On Sunday evening, 26 November, I was in the saloon bar of the Sussex public house about 8 o'clock, and I remained there until closing time, 9 o'clock. Amongst other people there, I saw two Canadian soldiers at about a quarter to nine, between eight and a quarter and nine. I saw the prisoners come in. I noticed that one of them walked with a limp. A lady left the saloon bar and a Canadian soldier. I didn't see the other one go out. That was a closing time. The prisoners followed the lady and the Canadian out of the bar. I don't think I should know the lady again if I saw her. I think the colonial was talking to her inside the bar. She was in the saloon bar about five yards in from the door. She was standing near the stool nearest to the counter flap. She was there when I saw the Canadian talking to her. That is a soldier I afterwards saw lying on the pavement. I followed the prisoners out. The Canadian and the woman talked outside the door for a minute, and then went away to the right, followed by the prisoners. When they got near the first lamppost, I noticed them standing there talking together, not quarreling. After a while, I heard a glass or bottle break. I didn't see what caused that noise. The sound came from their direction. An Australian soldier came running up to me and said something. I ran up to the lamppost. I saw the Canadian soldier lying on the ground bleeding very heavy. The civilians had gone. But a lady was there and a man blowing a whistle. I can't say if this was the woman I'd seen with the Canadian. She was just leaning over him. Thank you, Gunner Rhodes. Now called Dr. Spillsbury. Your Honor, I'm Dr. Bernard Henry Spillsbury. Honorary pathologist at the St. Mary's Hospital. I received from the coroner an order to make a post-motorhome examination of the body of Alfred Williams. I made the post-motorhome on the 28th of November at St. Kyle's mortuary. The deceased man was five feet six inches in height. I found a clean cut wound on his neck, just under a half inch in length, situated one inch behind the right ear. The cut was horizontal. It was an incised wound. It ran inwards and rather backwards, dividing the right occipital artery and passing between the base of the skull and the atlas vertebrae, making a small opening in the membrane that closed that space and in a dura mater around the upper end of the spinal cord. It did not injure the spine or the brain. The cause of death was coma due to meninginal hemorrhage due to the wounds I described. The depth of the wound was about two inches. It was a stab wound caused by some sharp instrument, a single stab. With a sharp instrument, it would require a fair amount of force to inflict such an injury. I've been shown the knife here as in exhibit one. An instrument like the larger blade of exhibit one might have inflicted such a wound. It might possibly have been inflicted by the blade of the knife of exhibit two, but that blade is short. It would more likely be exhibit one. I've been shown some pieces of glass. None of the pieces I've seen could have inflicted the injury. None of them even fitted the wound. In my opinion, it's not possible that that wound would have been caused by falling on glass. I did consider the possibility that the wound could be self-inflicted, but it's not an easy position for a man to injure himself. The wound is more likely caused by a person standing behind the deceased. Apart from the wound that I found, there was nothing else to cause death. I've examined exhibit one before today. It was handed to me for examination of blood stains. I found none on the knife. The handle of exhibit one shows no signs of having been cleaned, at least not thoroughly cleaned. I do believe that the blades themselves have been cleaned. This wound that I described would cause an immediate escape of blood, but it would not spurt. The blood would flow as an artery was cut, but probably would not escape until a knife was withdrawn. As a result, the knife handle and the hand and clothes of a person who caused such a wound would not be smeared with blood. Assuming that one of the knives caused the wound, a knife blade would certainly be covered with blood, but the knife handle would not. Because as I've testified, the blood would not spurt from the wound. It would flow. Thank you, Dr. Spielberg. Now called Detective Sergeant Alfred Collins. On the night of 26 November, I had certain instructions. At 9 20 AM, 28 November, I was with Detective Harrow and saw William James Robinson at High Hallborn. I said to him, we are police officers, and I believe your name is Billy Robinson. He replied, my name is W.J. Robinson. I said to him, you answer the description of a man wanted for causing the death of a Canadian soldier on Sunday night at about 9 PM at Upper St. Martin Lane. And I shall take you to Bow Street Police Station, where you will be put up for identification. He said, what are you going to charge me with? I replied, if you are identified, you will be charged with murder. He said, I know nothing about it. I was not in St. Martin's Lane on Sunday evening. Do I look as if I could kill a man? On the way to the station, he said, where did you say this was? I said, Upper St. Martin's Lane near the Sussex Public House. He said, I will admit I went into the Sussex at 5 minutes to 9 on Sunday evening and had a drink with a pal whose name I don't know. But I know nothing about killing a soldier. He was taken to Bow Street Police Station and searched. On him, I found the knife. Exhibit 1, there are two blades to the knife. At the time I opened it, both blades had the appearance of having been recently cleaned. Later that day, Robinson was put up for identification and I was present. Emily Spiller identified him immediately. I made further inquiries and at midday, the 29th of November, I went with Detective Sergeant Boothie to Four Orange Street, Leicester Square. I saw prisoner Gray there. Sergeant Boothie said to him, after we had told him we were police officers, I believe your name is Gray. He said, yes. Sergeant Boothie said, you answer the description of a man wanted for being concerned with Billy Robinson in causing the death of a Canadian soldier on Sunday night last 26th November, soon after 9 PM. He said, I was there, but I don't know who did it. Sergeant Boothie cautioned him and said, you will be arrested and conveyed to Bow Street Police Station for the purpose of being identified. Prisoner Gray said, the soldier wanted to fight me and I just pushed him away. The soldier said, I am going to see this lady home, meaning the girl I was with. And directly afterwards, he fell to the ground. I saw Robinson there, but did not see the blowstruck. Shortly afterwards, there, but did not see the blowstruck. Shortly afterwards, two specials came up and one took my arm when the lady said, he never done it. And I was released. I afterwards went to a cafe in Shaftesbury Avenue with her and had some tea. I took prisoner Gray to Bow Street Police Station and he was searched. On him was found a pocket knife produced exhibit two. This knife has one laid. On 8th December, I handed the knives exhibits one and two to Dr. Spillsbury. I saw Robinson at Kent's in High Hallburn where I found him working. I have ascertained that he is known at the Sussex Public House as a customer. I was an eyewitness at some identifications. I took no part in them. Robinson is partly crippled in the right knee and he walks lame. He was the only lame man put up for identification. They weren't asked to walk, however. Spiller and the manager separately picked Robinson out. Sergeant Loeb, Special Constable, found no difficulty in picking Robinson out. He appeared to want to be quite certain who was the man. At his request, all the men turned round to show their profiles. A soldier and a Special Constable failed to identify Robinson. The knife exhibit one is in the same condition as when I handed it to Dr. Spillsbury. When I took it from Robinson, it was very bright and clean. There was no other appearance than that to make me think it had been recently cleaned. It does not appear to be a new knife. Thank you, Sergeant Collins. This concludes for prosecution's witnesses. We now call the defense's only witness, Sister Whitehouse. I am Beatrice Sophia Whitehouse. I am night sister at the Military Hospital, Indle Street. On Sunday, 26th November, 1916, I saw the deceased Alfred Williams soon after his admission to the Military Hospital, Indle Street. He was dead. The pockets of his clothes were searched by Sergeant Albert George Sturdle of the Royal Army Medical Corps, which is attached to the hospital. And I saw him find 28 pounds in a wallet. Nurse Anderson, in my presence, further searched to cease clothes. And in a pocket of his trousers, I do not remember which pocket. A bundle of treasury notes were found. I counted the notes. And as far as I can remember, there were 27 pounds. There was also some loose chain amounting to 11 shillings and silver and eight pence and copper. There were also two French notes and coins. Thank you, Sister Whitehouse. Now, if you're accused, each made a statement in their own defense. We first call John Henry Gray. I'm John Henry Gray. I reside at 29 Theobald Road. I'm a bench hand in the newspaper business. I wish to say everything that I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. Me and Robinson went into the Sussex Arms. The first person that I saw that I knew there was Maude Coleman. I spoke to her, and we kept company until we went outside. We went to the spot where this soldier was supposed to be killed. I heard Robinson call to me and said, I think there's a bit of a bother here. As I turned around, I saw two soldiers coming towards me. The first one, who was supposed to be the deceased, I have not identified him, presented himself quite close to Maude Coleman. And I said to him, don't you want to feel with that girl? And I pushed him one step backwards. He did not fall. He, the soldier, said, I'm going with those bloody girls. I don't know the other girl he was alluding to, since there was only one with me. I said to him, you cannot come with us. This girl is with me. He said to me, I'll have a fight with you. I said, I don't want to fight with you. He struck a blow at me but missed. The other soldier that was with him caught hold of the coat of the soldier who wanted to fight me and tried to pacify him to not quarrel with me. The soldier who wanted to fight me stood with his left shoulder behind my right. And I said to the other soldier who was with him, why don't you get him along out of it? He's only going to get himself in trouble. I missed the soldier's face on my side and I heard his head hit the ground. I looked to see who was the cause of it, who'd done it. And all I could see was a soldier and a civilian walking away about three yards away from the soldier on the ground. These two men were walking, and the civilian was Billy Robinson. I stood two or three yards away from myself when a special sergeant came to me and he said, where's the man who did it? I said, I don't know. He said, who's behind him? I said, the only persons I saw behind him have gone up there. And I pointed up St. Martin Street towards Oxford. The special sergeant held my right arm and a woman said to him, he did not do it. Maude Coleman said the same words. Then he let me go. I walked away with Maude Coleman. That's all I wish to say. I'll call William Robinson. All I will say is I did not do this. Do I look like I could have done this? I've only been off my back for three months. I don't go around killing people. That concludes the testimony. Mr. Miller. Mr. Jay. That's a very bad start. Yes. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you very much for your service here this evening. What we have here is a simple case of murder, an armed robbery that went wrong that led to the tragic death of Private Alfred Williams. A robbery planned and undertaken by both of these defendants, Robinson and Gray, Robinson as the killer, Gray as his knowing accomplice, a crime for which they should both be found guilty of murder. Now let's begin with the uncontested facts. First, we know that Williams, Robinson, and Gray were all at the Sussex Arms Pub. Robinson and Gray both admitted this. Numerous witnesses saw them there. Robinson and Gray suspiciously arrived at the pub just 10 minutes before it was closing. We know that Williams, the victim, had on him a large quantity of cash. We know that Robinson and Gray were aware of this. Their associate, Mod Coleman, who had been in the pub before, was seen speaking with the employees of the pub. Williams had flashed around his cash before. The managerous, we knew, saw that. They were conspiring with Coleman, perhaps even with the managerous to take advantage of drunk customers at the establishment, which is why they arrived right before closing time to prey on a drunk victim who, unfortunately, like Private Williams, had a lot of cash on him and made himself an easy target. We know the uncontested facts that Robinson and Gray followed Williams out of the pub. Right at closing time, Williams left, right behind him Robinson and Gray. They followed him up the sidewalk. When they reached a dark part of the sidewalk, that's when Robinson struck. Now, Miss Spiller, who has no connection to anyone in the case, who has no motive to lie, who has no bias, she saw things clearly. Her testimony was consistent. Her testimony was clear and detailed. What did she see? She saw Robinson in one swift move, take this knife out of his jacket pocket and stab Williams in the right side of his neck. Williams fell to the ground, and this is what the defendants weren't expecting. There was the shattering of glass. They thought they could find a dark spot of this blackout sidewalk. They could stab him. No one would be the wiser. They could grab the money out of his pocket and get away scot-free. They had not anticipated that Private Williams would have that glass that he had brought out from the Susick Arms, which hit the ground, which broke, which alerted numerous passers-by to what happened, and they had to scramble. What else do we know? We know that when Mr. Robinson was arrested, he had this knife, the murder weapon, on him. This, ladies and gentlemen, is murder. With regard to Robinson, there can be no doubt as to his actions or his intent. And with regard to Gray, the evidence shows that he acted as a knowing accomplice, which makes him liable for murder. Now, the defense will suggest that Robinson may have acted in defense of himself or another. But that's not what Ms. Spiller saw. Again, a witness with no motive to lie who provided consistent testimony who was only about five yards away. Ms. Spiller saw no quarrel. She saw no argument. She saw no harassment of a young woman. What she saw was a swift and immediate blow by Robinson to Williams' neck. This was not self-defense. You heard Maude Coleman testify. You couldn't imagine a more biased witness. She knows the defendants. She was with them. She provided strangely inconsistent and, but sometimes, repetitive testimony. She has a bias to lie, to defend the people she was with, perhaps even for a conspiracy to rob that she was involved with. She cannot be believed, Ms. Spiller can. The defendant may also mention the fact that there was this dragging of the victim. Well, let me offer to you, let me submit to you, that the most reasonable explanation of the dragging was that when Robinson struck Williams and Williams fell to the ground, they went to go take the cash out of his pocket. Now, unfortunately, for them, the broken glass had alerted numerous passersby. So as they tried to go into his pockets while Williams was still alive and was resisting, they weren't able to get it. In trying to grab the money out of his pockets, they dragged him a couple feet down the sidewalk, but with the alerted passersby encroaching on them, they had to take off before they could get their loot. The failure to complete the robbery does not mean it wasn't murder. If they intended to rob him and they killed him during that robbery, as part of that plan, they're both guilty of murder. Remember, as the judge instructed you, it is not my burden to prove the defendant's guilt beyond any possible or imaginary doubt. I simply have to prove their guilt beyond any reasonable doubt. And the evidence that you have heard tonight shows exactly that. And we ask you to convict both Robinson and Gray of murder. Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Muir. Now, at this point, we should call on the barristers for the defense. These were separate barristers for each of the defendants, court appointed, under Britain's new Poor Prisoners' Defense Act. The problem is, unlike for Mr. Muir's summing up, which you just heard, there is no record of what the defense said, either in the National Archives or in the newspaper reporting over time. We can infer only that the defense was relying, first, on Sister Whitehouse's testimony that refuted the robbery as a motivation, by showing that no robbery had ever been committed. And second, on the statements from the accused themselves. Although these statements were in the trial witness testimony list, they were missing from the document box that was given me in the National Archives. However, at the coroner's inquest, Gray had made the statement you heard tonight. And this, together with Maud Coleman's testimony, probably enabled his barrister to shift the blame to Robinson. Robinson, for some reason, did not testify at the coroner's inquest. And the words you heard him say in his defense tonight were reported by other police officers at Bow Street Station. Robinson's barrister probably argued that the conflicting evidence of who was where, how many were, people were there, who did what, and on such a dark night, would mean that there was reasonable doubt that he was the one that had committed the stabbing. A foreman of a jury has been elected. He will lead you in the discussion as you consider these kind of questions. What were the motives of the accused? Who accosted who in St. Martin's Lane? Whose knife is a murder weapon? And how reliable are these witnesses? John, take on. All right, ladies and gentlemen, the jury. We should first determine what, if any, sentence we wish to make William Robinson Robinson, excuse me, who was apparently present at the crime and it appears was at some point during the proceeding standing behind the victim, at least according to one witness. All those in favor of murder for William Robinson. I don't know. So that's eight. All those in favor of manslaughter. So four. And all in favor of, this one. This one. A quill. A quill. A weed stage. A weed stage. That's eight, too. So it's eight, four, eight. That doesn't mean it's a lot of good things. I'm sure it is. We will miss the next trial Thursday a week. I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. I'm just forming that drawing. We're very serious, first of all. As far as John Gray's gray goes. All those who are committed to a murder. Manslaughter. Seven. A quill. So according to Mr. Robinson. Great as a quill and there's a hung jury as far as Mr. Robinson is concerned. So I thank you all. However misguided you may have been in some cases. I'm serving on this jury. And I truly know that. Thank you, John. You have rendered your verdict and now I'll tell you what actually happened next. On March 7th, the second day of the trial, after two hours of deliberation. You guys did pretty well. The real jury returned verdicts for Robinson. Guilty as charged. But for Gray, guilty only of manslaughter for aiding and abetting the murder. Before sentencing the defendants, their criminal record is revealed. Gray had no prior record. But as a teenager, Robinson had spent two years in the British juvenile system known as Borstal. For burglary of a can of brilliant team. Lord Coleridge sentenced Gray to three years of penal servitude. And then came the moment of high drama the press had been waiting for. Turning towards Robinson, Lord Coleridge donned a black cap and pronounced. William James Robinson, the sentence of this court is that you will be taken from here to the place from whence you came and they're kept in close confinement until the 17th of April. And upon that day, that you be taken to the place of execution and they're hanged by the neck until you are dead. And may God have mercy on your soul. This is an illegally taken photograph in the old Bailey courtroom at the exact moment when the death sentence was announced for the murderer, Frederick Seddon, five years before. Richard Muir was again the prosecutor and is somewhere in the photograph. And Dr. Spilsbury was also the expert on this case. In Irish Gaelic, the black cap donned by British judges is called the kibosh. You can see the judge here has just put the black cap on. The previous trial in this courtroom at the old Bailey where the kibosh had been donned was only eight months before when Sir Roger Casement was sentenced to death of a crime of treason for attempting to smuggle arms from a German ship to supply the Irish citizens army in the Easter uprising. Gray and Robinson appealed their sentences to the court of criminal appeal. Unusually, the three judge appeals court panel for the case was assigned to was overseen by the Lord Chief Justice himself. This was Lord Reading who was shortly to become Earl of Reading and later to be appointed Vice Roy of India. In 1917, he was not just the Lord Chief Justice but had become the most important wartime advisor to Prime Minister Lloyd George. At that time of a trial, he was responsible for negotiating war liars with the US government. And it's curious, but he took on personal responsibility for overseeing this appeal. He was a very busy man and needed a quick resolution to this case. Fortunatiously, Mr. Muir was able to provide a surprising new evidence. Supposedly, when Robinson was absent from his cell in Pendenville prison, a warden had seen a letter he had drafted to his girlfriend, Margaret Harding, a tailress who lived on Drury Lane. The warden made a copy of the letter and this copy was presented to the appeals court. Robinson allegedly wrote, Dear Maggie, just a few lines to you hoping that this will find you in the best of health as it leaves me at present. Although I tell you now, I was guilty of the crime. I'm quite satisfied with the sentence. I'm sorry for the poor soldier killed. I want to impress on you and everybody else, it was not done for robbery. It was simply unfortunate. I took him for someone else. I had a row with on the previous day and I had no intention of killing him, but I do not look for sympathy for I don't deserve it. Don't worry. If it is my doom, I shall go with a good heart. It was reported that Margaret Harding burned the original of the letter after receiving it and Robinson claimed later that he did not ever recall writing it. This supposed confession allowed for quick decisions of a Lord Chief Justice. He denied the defense motion to dismiss the letter as unsubstantiated evidence and then denied their second motion to change Robinson's verdict from murder to manslaughter on the basis there was no premeditation. Lord Redding then quashed Gray's sentence because Robinson's supposed confession established that they were not acting in concert. Gray was released and quickly drafted into the army. He survived the war on the Western Front. He was given a war service medal. You can leave. Lord Redding confirmed Robinson's conviction and death sentence. He was hung at Penteville Prison on April the 17th, taking his place in infamy and the annals of crime. He was the 26th person hung in Penteville Prison. Roger Casement was number 25. This is not quite the end of the story. Through the internet, we can now access some police records that at that time were confidential. I found that although the prosecution acknowledged that Robinson had been wounded in the war, it never disclosed and Robinson did not admit that he was a deserter from a British army. His unit, the King's Royal Rifle Regiment, along with the 20th Battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, had been heavily engaged in the Battle of Assam. Robinson had been severely wounded in the leg and sent back to a hospital in England. After two months of recovery, he went AWOL and disappeared into his old neighborhood, Seven Diles. When Mr. Muir put together the case of a prosecution you heard tonight, he knew his audience was not just the jury, but also that scrum of reporters in the public gallery. Early in the war, the government had enlisted the press in its fight against Germany. To make sure Home Front morale was maintained appropriately, the government under a newly enacted Visual Secrets Act could influence or censor press coverage and still does. Through a secret informal denoted system that advised the press how it wanted certain stories covered. The architect of that Official Secrets Act that set up this press censorship system had been the Lord Chief Justice himself, Lord Reading, in his previous position as Attorney General. Robinson could have been tried and convicted by Army Court Marshall. Instead, the government elected to try him in civil court as if he was a civilian. A newspaper story describing how a brave Canadian soldier was murdered by a British Army deserter would not have helped Home Front morale in Britain and certainly not in Canada. I visited my grand-uncle's grave. It is here in London in Kensal Green Cemetery. It was another cold and gray November day. I placed a Remembrance Day poppy at the foot of his headstone and knelt down to read the words his wife, Katie, had asked to be inscribed. I really would like to thank our wonderful cast, Private Martin Rick Fuguerra, Private Heads, Michael Pressinger, George Young, Todd Nakagawa, Emily Spearra, Paul Wong, Lord Coleman, Lucille Sutton, Sergeant Low, Rod Pebel and Spiff, Dana Rhodes, Robert Morrill, Dr. Spielsbury, Mike Dosslin, Detective Sergeant Collins, John Engel, Sister White House, Shoo-Yun Yang, and John Gray, Jim Valenti, and William Roddison, Pat Forsman. I would also like to thank my wife, Patricia Williams, over here, for giving me so much advice and encouragement here as a theatre director by training. And the mechanics is here. The lighting is put on the show. Getting that.