Part 6 (2/2)
Englund had been working in the garage at the Leopold house on Wednesday, 21 May, around twelve-thirty in the afternoon. The chauffeur was responsible for five cars: the Leopolds owned a Packard, two Lincolns, a w.i.l.l.ys-Knight, and a Wills Saint Claire. The w.i.l.l.ys-Knight-Nathan's car-was especially distinctive, a maroon sports model with red disk wheels, nickel-plated b.u.mpers, and a tan top. As Englund looked toward the gate that afternoon, he could see the w.i.l.l.ys-Knight approach the driveway with Nathan at the wheel; behind him, a second boy was driving a dark green car.
Nathan stepped out from his car. The brakes had been squealing for several days; could Sven check them that afternoon? He did not need his car that day; he would prefer to have the problem fixed as soon as possible. Nathan and Richard Loeb drove away in the green car.
What make was the second car? Englund tried to remember-he was not sure. Perhaps, he replied, it was a Cadillac.
In recounting his story to the a.s.sistant state's attorney, Sven Englund provided convincing detail. On the day of the murder, he had removed the disk wheels from the red w.i.l.l.ys-Knight to oil both the brake bands and the brakes; Nathan's car had remained in his garage until ten o'clock that evening.31
ENGLUND'S ACCOUNT CAME AS A thunderclap-the chauffeur had smashed the boys' alibi. Crowe broke off his interrogation of Nathan; he realized immediately that both boys had been lying to him about their movements on the day of the murder. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb had told him that they had spent Wednesday, 21 May, driving around the city in Nathan's car; yet Sven Englund was now saying that Nathan's car had been in the garage all day. thunderclap-the chauffeur had smashed the boys' alibi. Crowe broke off his interrogation of Nathan; he realized immediately that both boys had been lying to him about their movements on the day of the murder. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb had told him that they had spent Wednesday, 21 May, driving around the city in Nathan's car; yet Sven Englund was now saying that Nathan's car had been in the garage all day.32 Crowe had no time to lose. The family had sent Englund on his mission to the Criminal Court Building; perhaps even now, Nathan's father was contacting a lawyer to file a writ of habeas corpus. If Crowe could squeeze a confession out of the boys before the lawyers arrived, he would have a hanging case, but if there was no confession, the killers might yet avoid the gallows.
Which boy was most likely to break first? Should Crowe switch to Richard Loeb or stay with Nathan Leopold? Nathan had denied everything-he had refused to budge an inch. Richard Loeb might be more vulnerable. Loeb did not even know why he was in the Criminal Court Building; throughout his detention, the detectives had held the boy in isolation.
Crowe opened the door. Richard Loeb was leaning forward in a chair with his head resting on his arms on the desk. As the state's attorney entered the room, the boy lifted his head up and slid backward in the chair.33 It was almost one o'clock in the morning, and Loeb was very tired. He had slept during the day but only for about four hours. He demanded to know why Crowe was holding him. He knew nothing, and he wanted to talk to a lawyer.34 Crowe heard the words but ignored the request. He had been expecting one of the boys to ask for a lawyer-he was surprised it had taken so long. He pretended not to hear; behind him, Joseph Savage, the a.s.sistant state's attorney, was entering the room; he was followed by Michael Hughes, the chief of detectives. The stenographer was the last to enter, and as the door closed behind him, Crowe turned to face Loeb.
”Now, Loeb, you told me that Wednesday...you drove down town with this young fellow Leopold, in his car, that is a sport model, it is a red car with a tan top, a w.i.l.l.ys-Knight?”
”Yes....”
”You had lunch at the grill room at Marshall Field's?...Then you went out to Lincoln Park?”
”Yes, sir.”
”And that all the driving you did this day was in this car?”
”Yes, sir....”
Crowe had been sitting casually on the edge of the gray metal desk; now he got to his feet and stood in front of Loeb, looking down at the boy in the chair before him. He spoke louder now, in a voice calculated to intimidate the boy, and he moved closer, so close that his physical presence in itself seemed to threaten and menace.
”Isn't it a fact that Wednesday, May 21st,...you drove up to that garage, to Leopold's garage, you driving your mother's car, that green Cadillac, he driving the red car...and you turned the car over to the chauffeur and got into your car and drove away?”
”No,” Richard replied.
”That is not a fact?”
”No,” Richard answered again.
Crowe was shouting now. The anger in his voice filled the interrogation room. He wanted that confession so much-he needed Richard to confess-he had to force the boy to break, to admit his guilt to the murder.
”If this chauffeur says so, he is a liar?”
”Yes.”35 Richard's hands were shaking, and the color had drained from his face. As he slumped down in his chair, the detectives heard him whisper to himself, ”My G.o.d.” He tried to speak, but his words died before they reached his lips. Crowe waited impatiently for the boy to drink a gla.s.s of water.
”If the chauffeur took the car in and oiled it up, oiled the brakes and fixed it up, that would make an impression on his mind, wouldn't it?”
”Yes.”
”If he says that is a fact, he is a liar or mistaken?...”
”Yes.... I would say he was still a liar or mistaken.”36
ROBERT C CROWE WAS EXHAUSTED. B BOTH boys denied everything; Crowe was discouraged: they were holding fast and he saw no way to break their resistance and force a confession. He stepped out of the office. Perhaps it was time to go home-he badly needed some sleep. boys denied everything; Crowe was discouraged: they were holding fast and he saw no way to break their resistance and force a confession. He stepped out of the office. Perhaps it was time to go home-he badly needed some sleep.
One of Crowe's a.s.sistants, John Sbarbaro, remained with Richard Loeb as Crowe talked in his office with Joseph Savage. Twenty minutes pa.s.sed, then half an hour. There was a sudden bustle in the corridor; Sbarbaro had left the room and was striding, almost running, toward Crowe's office. The a.s.sistant state's attorney was breathless as he opened the door. Richard Loeb wanted to talk to the state's attorney...there was no time to lose...quick, quick, before the boy changed his mind!37
7 THE CONFESSIONSSAt.u.r.dAY, 31 M 31 MAY 1924S 1924SUNDAY, 1 J 1 JUNE 1924 1924It was really too bad, for the cause of justice, that they were so loquacious.1Robert Crowe, 15 August 1924 AS R ROBERT C CROWE ENTERED THE interrogation room, Richard wiped a tear from his cheek. Crowe noticed the jerky, staccato movement of the boy's hand. It was, he thought, as if Richard were ashamed that he had been crying, as if he hoped to wipe away the evidence of his panic. interrogation room, Richard wiped a tear from his cheek. Crowe noticed the jerky, staccato movement of the boy's hand. It was, he thought, as if Richard were ashamed that he had been crying, as if he hoped to wipe away the evidence of his panic.
The state's attorney pulled up a chair, making a sc.r.a.ping noise as he dragged the legs of the chair across the concrete floor. As he sat down opposite Richard, the boy spoke through his tears, challenging the state's attorney. ”You have no evidence on me.... Why are you holding me?”
”Because Leopold is the owner of those gla.s.ses-”
Richard looked up, startled; he had not expected this: ”My G.o.d, is that possible?”
”-because you said you were with Leopold all day on the day of the murder.” Crowe continued to list the evidence. ”We have been directing our energy in fastening the crime on Leopold.... We now have, in addition to his gla.s.ses, the fact that you have both lied about being out in Lincoln Park having the red car with you.... We know that you had a portable typewriter....”
Richard Loeb had bent over in his chair. He stared at his feet and made a slight rocking movement, back and forth, back and forth, as Crowe continued to talk. Now Richard sat up straight; the tears were streaming down his cheeks; he cried out his terror at having been caught, ”My G.o.d...my G.o.d...this is terrible....”
There was silence in the room. Crowe waited. The deputies at Crowe's side held their breath in antic.i.p.ation as they stared at Richard, waiting for him to admit his guilt.
”I will tell you all,” Richard suddenly announced.
Crowe clenched his fist in triumph. He had the confession!2 But the stenographers had gone home for the night. Crowe himself had sent them away only half an hour before. He would now have to send out a police car to bring them back to the Criminal Court Building to take down Richard's confession. And he needed other witnesses to the confession, men outside his command, who would corroborate in court that Richard Loeb had given his confession freely, without duress. Crowe knew that Michael Hughes, the chief of detectives, would want to be present when Loeb made his formal confession; and William Shoemacher also-the deputy captain of police-would certainly not want to miss the occasion.
While his a.s.sistants, John Sbarbaro and Joseph Savage, made the arrangements, Crowe resumed his conversation with Richard Loeb. He wanted only the most important details, he told the boy; a full account could come later, once the stenographer had arrived. Richard obliged-he told the state's attorney how he had scouted the Harvard School, and how he had spotted Bobby Franks walking south on Ellis Avenue...they had driven out of Chicago on the Michigan City road and had stopped at a roadside cafe for hot dogs and root beer...oh, and the culvert by the Pennsylvania Railroad tracks-it had been difficult, Richard remembered, concealing the body in the drainage pipe....
Half an hour later Robert Crowe sat opposite Nathan Leopold in an office just a few doors down the corridor. Nathan was smoking-did Nathan ever, the state's attorney wondered, stop smoking?
Nathan had wanted to speak to Crowe, he said, to ask a hypothetical question. The state's attorney nodded. What did he want to know?
Suppose, Nathan asked, that someone from a wealthy family, a family as rich as his own, had committed this murder-what chance would that person have of beating the murder charges?
Crowe looked at the boy curiously-was Nathan trying to bribe him? Or was he implying in his question that he would try to bribe the jury if he came to trial?
Crowe's answer was abrupt. He was going to give Nathan a chance to find out-he intended to draw up a charge of murder against Nathan for the killing of Bobby Franks.
Nathan smiled. He drew on his cigarette. He knew Crowe was bluffing. This was just a trick to intimidate him. ”While you have some few circ.u.mstances that point to me,” he told the state's attorney, ”you haven't sufficient evidence to bring me into court...and you won't.”
Crowe leaned forward in his chair-did Nathan remember, he asked, the afternoon of the murder, waiting by the car while Richard went around to the back of the Harvard School to find a boy in the school playground? And those hot dogs and that root beer that Nathan had purchased at the Dew Drop Inn after they had killed Bobby? Did he recall those? And what about the trouble he had in concealing the body inside the drainage pipe?
Richard had told him all this detail and had confessed to the kidnapping of Bobby Franks. Did Nathan still think that he could beat the murder charge?
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