Fatal (27 page)

•   •   •

The world learned the news before Jane did. In an extra that hit the streets late on Tuesday, December 3, the
Globe
announced a “decidedly sensational and unexpected move” on the part of the prosecution.

Instead of waiting until April—when the Barnstable
grand jury met for its regular session—District Attorney Holmes had taken the highly unusual step of summoning a special session. It was to be held in just a few days’ time, on Friday morning, December 6.

This maneuver was clearly designed to “outflank” the defense (as the
Globe
put it). It was Holmes’s way of avoiding the preliminary hearing, at which he would be required to reveal his evidence against the accused in district court. Both Jane and her lawyer had been counting on the hearing for precisely that reason—i.e., to get a preview of the prosecution’s case. The hearing—already postponed twice—was scheduled for December 11. With the special grand jury convening on the 6th, however, there was no longer any need for the formality of a hearing at all.

The surprising step taken by Holmes thus deprived the defense of an important tactical advantage. Instead of tipping its hand in open court, the state would be able to lay out its findings in secret.

Jailer Cash had received word of this development early Tuesday morning, but had decided to withhold it from Jane, preferring that her lawyer break the bad news to her. Cash felt sure that this surprising turn would come as a serious blow to Jane, who seemed convinced that she would soon be out of jail. She had been planning to make a statement on her own behalf at the hearing, and was confident that the judge would release her on bail.

Just a few days earlier, while enjoying the Thanksgiving meal prepared by Mrs. Cash, Jane had jokingly remarked that “it was the first holiday she had ever spent in jail,” but that she expected to be back home in Lowell in time to share Christmas dinner with her friends. Mrs. Cash’s granddaughter, Lucy, was standing
outside the cell at the time. Fingers gripping the bars, the child beamed with excitement as the kindly, round-faced woman she called “Jennie” promised to send her a special gift for Christmas.

Now, it seemed certain that “Jennie” and her new little friend were both in for a grave disappointment.

The slow clanging of a harsh-toned bell at 9 o’clock announced to Miss Toppan that the superior court of the county had assembled to hear her case. The bell was in the tower of the little courthouse opposite the dreary-looking jail, and the brisk, cold northeast wind which blew down the bay sent the sounds of its funeral-like tolling reverberating through the sand dunes.

—
Boston Herald,
D
ECEMBER
6, 1901

T
HE TWENTY-THREE MEMBERS OF THE GRAND JURY
came from towns all over the Cape—Brewster and Bourne, Truro and Chatham, Orleans and Eastham, Harwich and Mashpee, Wellfleet and Provincetown. Some arrived in Barnstable County late Thursday afternoon, putting up overnight at a hotel in Hyannis. Others waited until the last minute. When the bell tolled in the tower of the Barnstable courthouse at nine o’clock the next morning, three of the jurymen—William Chadwick and Daniel Phillips, both of Falmouth, and Horace Percival of Sandwich—had yet to arrive, though they made their appearance shortly thereafter.

Chief Justice Albert Mason (who had traveled from his home in Brookline) opened the court promptly at 9:00. The venerable white-haired clerk, Smith K. Hopkins, announced the start of the session, after which Rev. Albert H. Spence of the Barnstable Unitarian
Church offered a prayer. The chief justice gave the jurors no instructions, beyond advising them to listen attentively “to such matters as the district attorney might lay before them.”

The twenty-three jurymen then filed downstairs to the same little courtroom in which Jane’s previous appearances had taken place. The courtroom was cleared of all spectators, and the doors closed. The witnesses were sequestered in the judge’s chambers. At precisely 9:15, District Attorney Holmes began his presentation of the case.

The witnesses were brought into the courtroom one at a time. Professor Wood entered first, carrying a large suitcase. He emerged thirty minutes later and was followed by Professor W. P Whitney of the Massachusetts General Hospital, who had assisted Medical Examiner Faunce with the autopsies of the Davis family. Professor Wood was then called back inside the courtroom for some follow-up questioning. By ten o’clock, both Wood and Whitney had completed their testimony. Ignoring the shouted questions of reporters gathered in the hallway, they proceeded directly to the train station to catch the 10:15 back to Boston.

Beulah Jacobs was next. She remained inside for more than two hours. She was followed by Officer Letteney and General Josephus Whitney, both of the state detective force. The latter had just completed his testimony when the chief justice ordered a break for lunch.

Oramel Brigham opened the afternoon session. He was done at three o’clock, at which point Benjamin Waters—the Wareham druggist who had sold morphine to Jane—was expected to testify.

He never got the chance.

Before he was summoned inside, the courtroom door flew open. District Attorney Holmes came striding out and went hurrying upstairs to the chief justice’s private quarters. The two men remained closeted for nearly an hour.

In the meantime, the jurors began to drift from the courtroom and make their way to the treasurer’s office to receive their per diem pay. Word quickly spread among the reporters. No further witnesses would be called; the grand jury had heard all the testimony it needed to.

Someone was sent to the jail to notify Keeper Cash. At 5:00
P.M.,
the jurymen—who had been milling about the corridors for forty-five minutes—were called back inside the courtroom. No sooner had they seated themselves than Jane Toppan—accompanied by her lawyer and flanked by a pair of deputy sheriffs—was escorted into the room.

Under the close scrutiny of the newspapermen (who were permitted to witness this portion of the proceedings), Jane strode briskly to her place and seated herself between the two deputies. The reporters studied her face for any signs of anxiety but saw none. Head high, she fixed her eyes on Chief Justice Mason and did not shift her gaze until the clerk, Smith K. Hopkins, turned to the jury foreman, Herman Cook, and said: “Mr. Foreman, have you anything to report to the Court?”

“We have, sir,” said Cook. He then handed a batch of typewritten papers to Hopkins, who passed them to the judge without so much as glancing at them.

At that moment, District Attorney Holmes rose to his feet.

“May it please the Court,” he said. “The grand jury has reported the indictments against the defendant, and I ask that she now be arraigned.”

With a slight bow of the head, Chief Justice Mason handed the papers back to the clerk.

“Jane Toppan,” intoned Hopkins.

Rising quickly, Jane placed her hands on the railing and stared intently at the wizened clerk.

Squinting down at the first indictment, the old man began to read. In the fading twilight, he had difficulty making out the words. Eventually, a kerosene lamp was brought in. Even so, the reading was a painful affair, Hopkins stammering and stumbling through the tortuous legalese of the indictment:

The jurors for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts on their oath present: That Jane Toppan, late resident of Cambridge, in the County of Middlesex and Commonwealth aforesaid, on the twelfth day of August in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and one, at Bourne, in the County of Barnstable aforesaid, in and upon one Mary D. Gibbs, did feloniously, wilfully and of her malice aforethought did make an assault, and to her, the said Mary D. Gibbs, did feloniously, wilfully and of her malice aforethought then and there give and administer, in some way and manner and by some means to the jurors aforesaid unknown, a certain large quantity, to wit: ten grains of a certain deadly poison called morphine, she, the said Jane Toppan, then and there well knowing the same to be a deadly poison, with the intent that the said Mary D. Gibbs should then and there take and swallow down the
same into her body; and that the said Mary D. Gibbs the said morphine, so given and administered as aforesaid, did then and there take and swallow into her body, the said Mary D. Gibbs not then and there knowing the same to be a deadly poison; by means whereof the said Mary D. Gibbs became mortally sick and distempered in her body, and the said Mary D. Gibbs of the poison aforesaid, so by her taken and swallowed down as aforesaid, and of the sickness and distemper occasioned thereby, from the said twelfth day of August in the year aforesaid until the thirteenth day of August in the year aforesaid at Bourne aforesaid, in the County of Barnstable aforesaid, did languish, and languishing did live; on which thirteenth day of August in the year aforesaid at Bourne aforesaid, in the County of Barnstable aforesaid, the said Mary D. Gibbs of the poison aforesaid, and of the sickness and distemper occasioned thereby, died. And so the jurors aforesaid, on their oath aforesaid, do say that the said Jane Toppan in manner and form aforesaid, the said Mary D. Gibbs, feloniously, wilfully and of her malice aforethought did poison, kill and murder, against the peace of the said Commonwealth and contrary to the form of the statute in such case made and provided. . . .

As Hughes read, the reporters scribbled away, furiously transcribing the gist of the indictment in their notebooks. Stripped of its jargon, the document charged Jane with murdering the older Davis sister, Mary “Minnie” Gibbs, by giving the unsuspecting woman massive doses of morphine and atropine.

It took Hopkins almost fifteen minutes to make his way through the four-page indictment. By then, Jane (along with most of the other people in the room) was showing signs of strain.

There were still two more indictments to go. Before Hopkins could begin on the next one, Jane’s lawyer sprang to his feet and, on behalf of his client, waived the reading of the other indictments.

“They are practically the same,” he said, “and I do not see the necessity of reading them.”

To the undoubted relief of everyone present, Chief Justice Mason readily agreed.

Turning to Jane, Hopkins then asked if she were guilty or not guilty of the charge according to the Gibbs indictment.

In a clear, calm voice—loud enough, according to one reporter, “to be heard almost in the corridor”—Jane replied: “Not guilty.”

She was then informed that she had also been charged with the murders of Alden Davis and Genevieve Gordon.

Again Jane replied “Not guilty” when asked how she pleaded to each charge.

The proceedings lasted only a few minutes longer. Reseating herself, Jane listened calmly, hands folded in her lap, as Murphy asked the Court to “assign senior counsel” for his client, who, he explained, “was absolutely without financial resources.”

“You say she has no money?” Chief Justice Mason asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Murphy.

“Very well,” said the judge. “The Court will take the matter under advisement.”

A few seconds later, Mason dismissed the grand
jury and Jane Toppan was escorted back to her cell.

Immediately after the arraignment, the district attorney was besieged by reporters, clamoring for details. Holmes declined to comment on the proceedings. He did, however, offer a prediction that would prove to be extraordinarily inaccurate: “Now that we have Miss Toppan indicted,” he declared, “there is much to be done to substantiate what we have charged, and I can safely say that when the case reaches the court, it will mean one of the longest trials Massachusetts has ever known.”

•   •   •

The following morning, reporters grilled the jailer’s wife, Mrs. Cash, about Nurse Toppan’s state of mind. Surely, after the findings of the grand jury, Jane’s famous composure had finally cracked? Surely she had passed a terrible night after being formally charged with so many counts of premeditated murder?

Mrs. Cash, however, quickly put these speculations to rest. After returning to her cell, Jane and her lawyer had held a lengthy consultation. Later, the portly nurse had polished off her dinner with her usual gusto. When Mrs. Cash came by to collect the dishes, Jane had seemed perfectly calm, even cheerful. The two women had chatted for a while.

Then Jane had retired early and—so far as Mrs. Cash could tell—had slept the sleep of the just.