Part 7 (1/2)
Nathan had stopped smirking. His c.o.c.kiness had disappeared. Eventually he spoke. His voice was subdued, quiet, almost ruminative. ”Well, I am surprised that d.i.c.k is talking.” Nathan spoke reflectively, as though he were musing to himself. ”I thought he would stand till h.e.l.l froze over.”
He thought for a moment. For once, Nathan seemed uncertain, almost lost in his sudden change of circ.u.mstances. He looked up. He had realized that Richard might be blaming him for the murder, perhaps even accusing him of wielding the murder weapon.
”d.i.c.k is talking.” Nathan paused, as though he wanted to make an important announcement. ”I will tell you the truth about the matter.”
The words came fast now, spilling out one after the other, piling on top of each other, in Nathan's effort to put the blame on the other boy. Richard had wanted to commit the perfect crime, Richard had suggested the kidnapping, Richard had persuaded Bobby to enter the car, Richard had struck Bobby with the chisel...
The state's attorney cut him short. He should save his breath until the stenographers arrived. There would be plenty of time later for Nathan to tell everything he knew.3
AT FOUR O'CLOCK THAT MORNING, one stenographer, Frank Sheeder, sat waiting alone in an interrogation room. He could hear footsteps echoing along the corridor, making their way toward him, and as they got closer, he could distinguish the voice of John Sbarbaro, the a.s.sistant state's attorney. The door suddenly opened. Sbarbaro entered first, and behind him, a young man, good-looking, not much older than twenty, walked shyly into the room. And finally, behind Richard Loeb, the deputy captain of police, William Shoemacher, stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. Sbarbaro introduced Richard Loeb to the stenographer-now that everyone had finally arrived, they could begin. one stenographer, Frank Sheeder, sat waiting alone in an interrogation room. He could hear footsteps echoing along the corridor, making their way toward him, and as they got closer, he could distinguish the voice of John Sbarbaro, the a.s.sistant state's attorney. The door suddenly opened. Sbarbaro entered first, and behind him, a young man, good-looking, not much older than twenty, walked shyly into the room. And finally, behind Richard Loeb, the deputy captain of police, William Shoemacher, stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. Sbarbaro introduced Richard Loeb to the stenographer-now that everyone had finally arrived, they could begin.
”State your full name.”
”Richard Albert Loeb.”
”Where do you live, Mr. Loeb?”
”5017 Ellis Avenue.”
”What is your occupation?”
”Student.”
”Where are you a student?”
”University of Chicago.”
”How old are you?”
”Eighteen.”
”You know now that you are in the office of the State's Attorney of Cook County?”
”Yes.”
”And you want to make a statement of your own free will?”
”Yes.”
”Calling your attention to the 21st day of May, just tell us in your own words if you know of anything unusual relative to the disappearance of Robert Franks.”
”On the 21st of May, Leopold and myself...”
”What is his full name?”
”Nathan Leopold, Junior...and myself intended to kidnap one of the younger boys from the Harvard School.... The plan was broached by Nathan Leopold, who suggested that as a means of having a great deal of excitement, together with getting quite a sum of money.”4 Richard talked about the murder in a matter-of-fact way. He had now decided to pin responsibility for the crime on Nathan's shoulders.
”I drove the car...south on Ellis Avenue, parallel to where young Franks was.... I told him that I would like to talk to him about a tennis racket; so he got in the car.... Just after we turned off Ellis Avenue, Leopold reached his arm around young Franks, grabbed his mouth and hit him over the head with the chisel. I believe he hit him several times. I do not know the exact number.... Leopold grabbed Franks and carried him over back of the front seat and threw him on a rug in the car. He then took one of the rags and gagged him by sticking it down his throat.... The scheme for etherizing him originated through Leopold, who evidently has some knowledge of such things, and he said that would be the easiest way of putting him to death, and the least messy. This, however, we found unnecessary, because the boy was quite dead when we took him there. We knew he was dead, by the fact that rigor mortis had set in, and also by his eyes; and then when at that same time we poured this hydrochloric acid over him, we noticed no tremor, not a single tremor in his body; therefore we were sure he was dead.”5 Richard eventually came to the end. He looked around the room, first at Sbarbaro, then at Shoemacher, and finally at the stenographer. He had recovered his composure. He betrayed no sign of the tears that he had cried only a few hours earlier.
Sbarbaro had only one more question and then they would be done.
”This statement that you have just made has been made of your own free will?”
”Yes.” Richard accepted responsibility, but of course Nathan had been to blame; they understood that, didn't they? ”I just want to say that I offer no excuse; but that I am fully convinced that neither the idea nor the act would have occurred to me, had it not been for the suggestion and stimulus of Leopold. Furthermore, I do not believe that I would have been capable of having killed Franks.”6
LESS THAN TEN YARDS AWAY, in an office two doors down the corridor, Nathan also was confessing. Another of Crowe's a.s.sistants, Joseph Savage, together with Michael Hughes, the chief of detectives, listened as Nathan told his version of events while the second stenographer, Elbert Allen, scribbled down his words in shorthand. in an office two doors down the corridor, Nathan also was confessing. Another of Crowe's a.s.sistants, Joseph Savage, together with Michael Hughes, the chief of detectives, listened as Nathan told his version of events while the second stenographer, Elbert Allen, scribbled down his words in shorthand.
Savage had already learned that Richard blamed Nathan for the murder. Yet now he was hearing the opposite, that it was Richard who had killed Bobby Franks.
”Richard placed his one hand over Robert's mouth to stifle his outcries, with his right beat him on the head several times with a chisel, especially prepared for the purpose. The boy did not succ.u.mb as readily as we had believed, so for fear of being observed, Richard seized him, pulled him into the back seat. Here he forced a cloth into his mouth. Apparently the boy died instantly by suffocation....”
”When Richard hit Robert first, was it down in the tonneau of the car, the bottom of the car, or was it on the seat he choked him?”
”It was on the seat; Robert was sitting on the front seat, d.i.c.k was in the back seat.”
”Robert was sitting in the front with you?”
”Yes; and d.i.c.k sort of leaned over and put his hand over his mouth, like this.”
”Did he pull him back in the rear?”
”Not until later.”
”After he cracked him on the head, did he fall down then, Robert?”
”No, he struggled.”7 Each boy blamed the other for the murder-who was telling the truth? Had Nathan or Richard struck Bobby Franks on the head with the chisel?
But in all other respects, their accounts were identical-each prisoner corroborated the other's story. The murder was solved.
Shortly before seven that Sat.u.r.day morning, Robert Crowe emerged from his office to speak to the journalists waiting in the main corridor of the Criminal Court Building. The air was thick with cigarette smoke; a dozen reporters had spent the night sitting in the corridor, leaning against the walls, waiting for the break in the case. They struggled to their feet as Crowe appeared before them; the state's attorney looked tired, weary from the long hours of interrogation-perhaps, the journalists thought, there was still no result.
Crowe stood in the center of the small group arranged in a semicircle before him. He spoke quietly, just loud enough for his audience to hear: ”We have the murderers in custody.”
Not one of the reporters was looking at him; they were too busy scribbling down his words in their notebooks. It was a strange scene, Crowe reflected. The end of the murder investigation, and now he was announcing it to this small group of journalists while secretaries, desk sergeants, and clerks walked by him on their way to their offices as they arrived for the day. Surely it should have ended on a more triumphal note?
”The Franks murder mystery has been solved. The murderers are in custody. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb have completely and voluntarily confessed.... The Franks boy was kidnaped out of a spirit of adventure and for ransom. The kidnaping was planned many months ago, but the Franks boy was not the original victim in mind.... He was beaten with a chisel, strangled and then [an] attempt was made to disfigure him with acid.”8