The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-11-10

10 DIODe one VI cllohSNcO ySeSAASS Va
the human mind. 1t is best, therefore,
that tell the story as 1t happened and
keep to myself whatever bewildering con-
illusions may have drawn. The story is
sufficiently dramatic not to need the added
interest of acute analysis OF its incidents.
Most of the facts are familiar to some of
nv readers, for the narrative concerns q
criminal case which had certain notoriety.
The new feature which | shall introduce
was an extraordinary document given TO
me by tie authorities of the gray old prison
at San Quentin. The peculiar bearing
which it has upon the case serves not only
as an excellent reason for reviYing the
story, but really as the strangest and ap-
parently most incomprehensible of the
happenings in the case. a man whom it
is convenient to call Garland was arrested
in one of the southern counties for a
murder of startling and ferocious charac-
ter. So high had been his standing, so
gentle and unselfish his nature, SO fine and
sensitive his temperament, so clear his
intelligence and so wide his popularity
that the community felt shocked and out
ragged that he should re charged at all.
For that matter, the peculiar character of
the case and the mystery investing 1t mad
caused the local authorities to call in the
services OF a distinguished detective from
San Francisco to drag light out of the
darkness. Garland's arrest, to the amaze
ment of the whole county, was the result
OF his Investigations.
Garland appeared greatly surprised when
arrested, but he smiled complacently and
made no resistance. On the preliminary
ha h cd ND
incredulity when the evidence-mostly
Observation-Disclosures presented, and as he
had made no preparations whatever for
the introduction of contradictory evidence
he was held for trial. 1t was then that the
first manifestations of anger and rebellion
appeared in his conduct. OF course, he in
sisted on his innocence, and at first de-
clared that the witnesses arrayed against
him were grievously in error aud that the
evidence was not sufficient for his holding.
To every one else the evidence seemed sur
prisingly strong and clear, and his holding
for trial was expected.
In prison, while awaiting trial, he grew
more and more impatient, and from charg-
ing the adverse witnesses with error he
began to talk about a conspiracy to convict
an innocent man. Nobody agreed with
him on that point, but the more he talked
about it the more positive he became.
Meanwhile he was displaying a singular
indifference concerning his defense, and
was eager for the trial TO begin. 1t there
fore fell upon few of his many friends to
prepare such defense as they could with
out his assistance.
When the trial came on he would not
fpryo0If his nffprraNy m oh Gin rlo
jurynIan except for the clearest cause. The
evidence presented by the State was so
much stronger and completer than that
which had been produced at the prelimi-
nary examination that it seemed to over
whelm the prisoner with gradually in
creasing force. He would stare at the wit
nesses with dismay, apparently Mortified
more by the intrinsic terrible character of
their stories than by their unavoidable
effect on his own freedom or life. He
would look aboat in a dazed manner, as
though he thought himself dreaming and
was wondering at the monstrous perversity
of dreams.
After the case for the prosecution had
been closed he sat complete and pitiable
wreck, haggard, stunned and helpless.
Seemingly all his faculties were benumbed.
So abject was his condition that he was
able neither mentally nor physically to
give the smallest assistance to his attor-
ney. That gentleman and the prisoner
friends made as hard fight as possible,
but in comparison with that presented by
the State it was manifestly futile. The
deduction from GarIand's conduct was
that, overborne by realization of the
enormity of his CRIME and by the inutiity
OF defense, he had accepted the inevita-
BILE and was already undergoing that
strange natural preparation for the end on
the gallowS.
He was found guilty without any hest
tation. He sat crushed all through the
succeeding ormalitles-motions for new
trial, appeal to the Supreme Court, his
sentence to life imprisonment, which was
a concession to his reputation. 1t was not
until all these matters had been disposed
of-and we may be certain that, under the
circumstances, they were greatly has
tened-and he had been taken to San
Quentin, NUM- ered and dressed in stripes,
that he seemed to recover the use of his
faculties.
This he did in a manner that sent con-
sternation throughout the great old prison.
Suddenly, without any notice whatever,
be developed terrible fury.
81 will not submit like a dog!' he
shouted. at is infamous to subject an
innocent man to this horrible outrage.
My life and freedom were given to me by
Almighty God, and it is my right and
duty to defend them"
With that he made violent onslaught
upon the prison guards, and, as he was a
large and very powerful man, he crippled
two or three and himself came very near
being killed before he could be subdued.
Then he was loaded with irons and thrust
into the dungeon.
For two or three days he raved there in
delirium of rebellious and passionate
anger. He defied and cursed the authori-
ties and threatened to strangle the guard
who fed him. He complained bitterly that
he had not killed some one when his first
onslaught was made, but assured those
who watched him that he would NOT be SO
careless and precipitate in the future. II
was supposed at first that he was trying to
create the impression that he had become
insane In the hope that he would be COM
mitted to an insane asylum, where oppor.
tunities for escape were more abundant.
But soon that idea was abandoned Itwas
clear that his conduct and speech were EN-.
inently coherent, aud it was believed that
he had simply yielded to an uncontrollably
vicious instinct; and this, l must add with
sense of how depIorable it was, found &C.
ceptance as explanation and proof of his
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