Manhunt (40 page)

The assassin was in good spirits again, and he laughed as Herold and their new friends gathered around him to celebrate the successful crossing. Broaching the humble Rappahannock was no great feat in itself, but it represented the culmination of this phase of the escape. Booth and Herold had crossed the mighty Potomac, escaped from Maryland, landed in Virginia, found—finally, after suffering bitter disappointments—loyal Confederate comrades, and passed safely south through the state's northern neck. Now, south of the Rappahannock, John Wilkes Booth looked forward to a swift journey through open country, to the interior of the Old Dominion. Overcome with emotion, Booth sang out: “I'm safe in glorious old Virginia, thank God!”

Or was he? There was something about young Willie Jett that Booth did not know. Had he known it, the assassin would have fled from this boy's company faster than he had galloped away from Ford's Theatre. Booth might have even shot him for it. On the surface, the thing seemed innocuous, even innocent. Neither Booth nor Jett knew it yet, but their meeting had set in motion a chain of events that would lead to the actor's downfall.

For now all was well and Jett led the caravan a few blocks to the Port Royal home of Randolph Peyton. Jett knew him and thought he would take them in. Before Jett approached the house, Booth asked him to continue the ruse and introduce him as a wounded Confederate soldier
named James Boyd. Peyton's two spinster sisters, Sarah Jane and Lucy, answered the door. Jett asked if they would be kind enough to give shelter for two nights to a wounded Confederate soldier and his brother. The Peytons agreed to take the strangers in, and Jett beckoned Booth to come forward. Booth hobbled inside and reclined on a chaise lounge. It was the first time he had stretched out on a piece of furniture since he napped on the upholstered, black horsehair sofa in Dr. Mudd's front parlor. After a few minutes Sarah Jane called Jett aside. She wanted to speak to him alone in the parlor. On second thought, she explained, this man could not stay here. Her brother Randolph was away at his farm and would not be back tonight. It was not right, without their brother at home, to permit strangers to sleep in the same house with two unmarried women. Regrettably, Sarah Jane informed Jett, she must rescind her premature offer of hospitality. She hated to say no to a wounded Confederate soldier, but in her brother's absence, she had no choice.

Jett accepted the refusal graciously. Making a scene would do no good. He asked if the Peytons' neighbors across the street, the Catlitts, might take in Mr. Boyd. Sarah Jane said she did not know. Jett elected to try but discovered that, like Randolph Peyton, Mr. Catlitt was not home. Sarah Jane made a helpful suggestion: “You can get him in anywhere up the road—Mr. Garrett's or anywhere else.” Jett agreed to try. At around 1:00 P.M. he helped Booth rise from the Peytons' chaise lounge and stand up on his crutches. As they walked outside, Jett called to their comrades: “Boys, ride on further up to road.” After putting Booth on Ruggles's horse, the men doubled up on the two remaining animals, Herold riding behind Jett, and Ruggles behind Bainbridge.

T
HREE AND A HALF MILES AWAY
, R
ICHARD
H. G
ARRETT PRE
sided over his five-hundred-acre farm, Locust Hill. It was a happy time. His two eldest sons, both in Confederate service, had just come home from the war. The caravan of riders, pacing slowly from Port Royal to
the southwest, arrived in the late afternoon. David Herold jumped off Jett's horse as soon as they passed the gate, and loitered near the road with Bainbridge, who dismounted and gave his horse to Booth. Jett, Booth, and Ruggles rode on to the house. As he had with Miss Sarah Jane Peyton, Booth asked Jett to introduce him by his pseudonym. Willie Jett introduced himself to Mr. Garrett from the saddle and then presented James Boyd: “Here is a wounded Confederate soldier that we want you to take care of for a day or so: will you do it?”

Garrett thought of his sons, who had returned safely just a few days ago. He would return that blessing with a kindness: “Yes, certainly I will.”

Around three o'clock in the afternoon of Monday, April 24, John Wilkes Booth had found refuge for the night. And he had survived another day.

Booth got down from Ruggles's horse. Their mission accomplished, the Confederates wanted to push on. Jett and Ruggles bade the assassin a quick farewell—“we will see you again”—and trotted away from Locust Hill, leading Bainbridge's riderless horse by the reins. Unbeknownst to Booth, Willie Jett had no intention of returning to Garrett's farm or of ever seeing the assassin again. When Jett and Ruggles reached the gate, they reined their horses to a stop. Bainbridge mounted up and David Herold clambered on, riding double with him. Davey wanted to accompany them to Bowling Green to purchase, of all things, a new pair of shoes. He decided to spend the night with the young Confederates and rejoin Booth tomorrow, April 25, at Garrett's farm.

Almost like a jealous younger brother showing off, Herold boasted to Jett that he, too, had a tattoo, just like Booth. Indeed, Booth had only one, but Davey had two. He rolled up both coat sleeves above the elbow and displayed a heart and anchor on his right arm and his initials, “DEH,” on his left. Jett noticed that the “H,” although still legible, was blurry: during his idle time in the pine thicket Davy had rubbed it for hours, trying desperately to erase the identifying mark with friction and heat.

The presence of Booth, Jett, and Ruggles in the Garretts' front yard had provoked a dog's bark, and the sound alerted John M. Garrett, one of Richard's sons, who was lying down in an upstairs bedroom. John had joined the Confederate army at the beginning of the war in 1861, serving first in the Fredericksburg Artillery and then in Lightfoot's Battalion. He was active for the duration until Lee's surrender on April 9, when he returned to the family farm. Looking out the window a little after 3:00 P.M., he saw a man with two crutches, who was leaning on only one. The man was wrapped in a gray shawl and was standing near his father, while two men on horseback were talking. In a few minutes, the mounted men rode off, taking the lame man's horse with them. John watched as his father and the stranger walked toward the house. It all seemed normal enough, and John Garrett returned to his bed.

Booth and old man Garrett lounged on the front porch, which extended along the length of the house. In about half an hour, a little after 3:30 P.M., John Garrett came downstairs and walked out the front door to spend the evening with a neighbor. His father introduced him to James Boyd. Neither father nor son suspected that Boyd was anyone other than who he said he was—a simple Confederate veteran, making his way home.

B
OOTH HAD BEEN LUCKY
. O
N
A
PRIL 24, THE MAJORITY OF THE
manhunters were still spinning their wheels in Maryland, uncertain whether their quarry had crossed the Potomac. Compared with the level of activity in Maryland, Virginia's northern neck was still lightly patrolled. That was about to change.

That morning, Major James O'Beirne had a telegram sent to the War Department telegraph office in Washington. It was this office that, on the night of the assassination, sent Stanton's telegrams that broke the news to military commanders, and to the nation. It was this office that transmitted Stanton's orders to begin the manhunt. And from this office came the news flash that the president was dead. Now, ten days later, Major Thomas Eckert, head of the telegraph office, received a message from Major O'Beirne that galvanized the manhunt. Two men, reported O'Beirne, had been seen crossing the Potomac on April 16. If those men were Booth and Herold, then Lincoln's assassin had been in Virginia for the past eight days. This report required action.

And Colonel Lafayette C. Baker just happened to be on the scene when the telegraph arrived. The notorious detective and War Department “agent,” and a favorite of Stanton's, had been in town since April 16, in response to Stanton's dramatic telegram summoning him from New York to join the manhunt and find the murderers of the president.

Since his arrival his imperious, deceitful, and self-promoting demeanor had rubbed a number of the hunters the wrong way. He tried to steal other detectives' leads and, without prior authorization, he had even issued a $30,000 reward proclamation of his own. He was snooping around the telegraph office when Eckert heard from O'Beirne. Baker read the message:

Baker seized the telegram, rushed back to his Pennsylvania Avenue headquarters across the street from Willard's, and told his cousin, Detective Luther Byron Baker, the news.

“We have got a sure thing,” Lafayette said, “I think Booth has crossed the river, and I want you to go right out.”

“There are no men to go with me.”

“We will have some soldiers detailed.” Lafayette begin writing a request for troops to General Hancock. “Is there no one in the office who can go with you,” he asked his cousin.

“No one but Colonel Conger,” Luther replied.

“Can he ride?”

“I think so.”

There was just one problem with O'Beirne's clue. Yes, two men had been seen crossing the river on April 16. But they were not John Wilkes Booth and David Herold.

a
ROUND THE SAME TIME THAT
B
OOTH ARRIVED AT
G
AR
rett's farm, an unsuspecting young army officer in Washington, D.C., got swept up in the manhunt's whirlwind. On the afternoon of April 24, capturing Lincoln's killer was the last thing on the mind of Lieutenant Edward P. Doherty, a company commander in the Sixteenth New York Cavalry regiment. While others took up the frenzied pursuit of John Wilkes Booth, Doherty's unit had not received orders to join the chase. Instead, he whiled away the time enjoying the spring afternoon: “I was seated, with another officer … on a bench in the park opposite the White House.”

A messenger tracked him down, interrupting his leisure with an urgent, written message: “HEADQUARTERS, DEPARTMENT OF WASHINGTON / April 24, 1865 / Commanding Officer 16th New York Cavalry / Sir: You will at once detail a reliable and discreet commissioned officer with twenty-five men, well mounted, with three days' rations and forage, to report at once to Colonel L. C. Baker, Agent of the
War Department, at 211 Pennsylvania Ave. / Command of General C. C. Augur.” Doherty's commanding officer, Colonel N. B. Sweitzer, had annotated the order and assigned the mission to Doherty: “In accordance with the foregoing order First Lieutenant E. P. Doherty is hereby detailed for the duty, and will report at once to Colonel Baker.”

Luther Baker, Lafayette Baker, and Everton Conger
pose as manhunters for
Harper's Weekly
.