For The Thrill Of It Part 7

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

THE REVELATION THAT R ROBERT C CROWE had solved the case reached the relatives first. Reporters swarmed into Kenwood to obtain reactions to the news. Jacob Franks came to his front door. The old man was solemn and unsmiling as he spoke to the journalists gathered before him. It was only fitting, he remarked, that two unbelievers had been exposed by a providential mistake: "I understand the two boys boasted they are atheists. I know now they will see there is a G.o.d above Who watches all things. It was His providence that caused Leopold's gla.s.ses to be dropped near my boy's body-His will that those two boys should pay." had solved the case reached the relatives first. Reporters swarmed into Kenwood to obtain reactions to the news. Jacob Franks came to his front door. The old man was solemn and unsmiling as he spoke to the journalists gathered before him. It was only fitting, he remarked, that two unbelievers had been exposed by a providential mistake: "I understand the two boys boasted they are atheists. I know now they will see there is a G.o.d above Who watches all things. It was His providence that caused Leopold's gla.s.ses to be dropped near my boy's body-His will that those two boys should pay."

Franks was sorry, of course, for the parents of the killers. "I have known them a great many years," he said, "and for them I have only the deepest sympathy," but the law must take its course. "No punishment would be too severe for them. They are fiends. I can't see how any jury, court or even the President could release them, the act was so atrocious.... They ought to hang."9 On the opposite side of Ellis Avenue, at the Loeb house, two private bodyguards stood at the front gate to shoo away intruders. Curious spectators had started to gather outside the house; occasionally they could spot Anna Loeb pacing nervously as she awaited more news of her son. A relative of the family did speak to the journalists, but only to deny that Richard had any connection with the murder: "There is no truth to these reports. Just lies, lies, lies!...We are not worried about these rumors.... He is innocent and confessed merely to get sleep. It can be repudiated when he comes to trial."10 Three blocks north, at the Leopold household, Nathan Leopold Sr. bravely denied his son's guilt: "impossible, ridiculous,...Nathan-my boy-my boy-I can't believe it.... I won't believe it." But as he turned back into the house, a deep frown creased the old man's forehead.11 For the close-knit Jewish community in Kenwood, the revelation that the murderers had come from within its ranks was impossible to credit. Acquaintances and friends of the families reacted with shock and disbelief that Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb had confessed to such an atrocious murder. The attorney Sol Levinson had already heard from the police that Nathan and Richard had eyed his son, Johnny, as a possible kidnapping victim when a reporter from the Chicago Herald and Examiner Chicago Herald and Examiner arrived at his home at midday to interview him. Levinson and his wife had had dinner at the Loebs only the previous month. Richard had been present and had "delighted us by his charming personality. I regarded him as one of the finest youths I have ever known. His confession of this awful crime is simply unbelievable to all who know him. I can hardly think it possible that he and young Leopold contemplated harm to my boy." arrived at his home at midday to interview him. Levinson and his wife had had dinner at the Loebs only the previous month. Richard had been present and had "delighted us by his charming personality. I regarded him as one of the finest youths I have ever known. His confession of this awful crime is simply unbelievable to all who know him. I can hardly think it possible that he and young Leopold contemplated harm to my boy."

Adele Harris, the wife of a millionaire building contractor, was equally shocked to learn that the murderers had considered her fourteen-year-old son, Samuel, as a murder victim; she too knew Richard Loeb as "one of the sweetest boys in the world. It was impossible to know him without being fond of him."12 Lessing Rosenwald, the manager of the Philadelphia branch of Sears, Roebuck, was baffled that Richard had confessed to the murder. The Rosenwald children and the Loeb boys had grown up together. "Richard Loeb is a fine fellow," Lessing Rosenwald remarked. "I can't understand why he would do a thing like that. If he wanted money all he had to do was to ask for it.... I knew Richard as a brother and I can't believe this thing about him."13 An acquaintance of the Loeb and Leopold families, speaking anonymously, speculated that the casual att.i.tude of the parents toward religious instruction had allowed Richard and Nathan to fall into bad habits. Both families wors.h.i.+pped at Sinai Congregation, a Reform temple at 47th Street and Grand Boulevard. The rabbi, Emil Hirsch, had been, until his death the previous year, a leading exponent of Reform Judaism, and the synagogue had become an important inst.i.tution for the affluent German Jewish communities of Hyde Park and Kenwood. But some families had not been as observant as one might expect, and neither Richard Loeb nor Nathan Leopold had been consistently educated in Jewish principles. "Though the father of 'Babe' Leopold is a devout Jew, he failed to make religious influence a part of his son's training. An insistence on an understanding and respect for the father's religion would have made all the difference in the world in that young man's development." And Richard Loeb? His mother, Anna, was a Catholic who had only reluctantly agreed that her sons be brought up in the Jewish faith.14 The mayor of Chicago, William Dever, counted Albert Loeb as a personal friend. Dever was careful, in his first public comments on the case, to congratulate the detectives on their swift success: "I am very much pleased with the efficient and vigorous work done by the police in solving this mystery. The case was so mysterious and baffling I was afraid it never would be solved. It was an exhibition of fine work which will be appreciated by all the people of Chicago." Dever knew how quickly anti-Semitism might appear in a scandal that involved the scions of wealthy Jews, and he was careful also to call for restraint: "I have the deepest sympathy for the parents of all three boys. I know Mr. Loeb, whom I regard as a man of splendid character and attainment. It is sad that such a tragedy should be visited upon these people and it invites the sympathy of all."15 John Caverly, chief justice of the Criminal Court, promised that he would bring kidnapping and murder charges before the grand jury as soon as possible-most probably on the following Tuesday, 3 June-and predicted that the trial would begin within the next thirty days. There was to be no delay of justice simply because the prisoners came from wealthy families. Robert Crowe welcomed Caverly's announcement. He was ready to go to trial. He was confident, he announced, that he had "a hanging case.... I shall present the facts, including the confessions, to the grand jury early in the week."16 Crowe had the confessions, but Nathan and Richard could (and probably would) repudiate them. Their lawyers would, no doubt, claim that they had spoken under duress, that the police had beaten them, that Crowe had denied them access to a lawyer.

The state's attorney antic.i.p.ated such claims. Therefore, he would ask the boys to retrace their steps on the day of the murder-to show him where they had kidnapped Bobby Franks, how they had driven out to Wolf Lake, and where they had disposed of Bobby's clothes.

It was an unusual strategy-but this was an unusual case, unlike anything in Crowe's experience as a state's attorney. Both Nathan and Richard were cooperating-in that respect, Crowe had no complaints. Neither boy had yet pressed his right to contact a lawyer, and neither the Loeb family nor the Leopold family had yet appeared at the Criminal Court Building to demand access to the boys. It was now nine o'clock on Sat.u.r.day morning. The Chicago newspapers had already appeared with accounts of the confessions, yet neither Albert Loeb nor Nathan Leopold Sr. had thought to hire lawyers to get the boys out of his custody.

At ten minutes past nine, a cavalcade of seven police cars set out from the Criminal Court Building. Forty detectives-including the deputy captain of police, William Shoemacher, and the chief of detectives, Michael Hughes-accompanied Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. In the rear, tagging along behind the seven black sedans, dozens of journalists and photographers followed in their cars.

The procession stopped first at the Rent-A-Car Company at 1427 South Michigan Avenue. The general manager, Walter Jacobs, identified Nathan Leopold as the man who had taken out a dark green w.i.l.l.ys-Knight on Wednesday, 21 May.17 Where was that car now? Was it in the garage? Could the police, Shoemacher asked, take a look at it? Jacobs checked his records-a customer named Salvatore Sarascio had rented the car the previous day and it was still out, but Jacobs a.s.sured Shoemacher that he would make sure to notify the police when it came back into the garage.18 They stopped next at the lunchroom at 1352 Wabash Avenue where Richard had waited by the phone to provide a reference for Nathan. Gertrude Barish, the wife of the owner, remembered seeing Richard about three weeks previously-she recalled that he had waited by the telephone booth at the back of the restaurant for almost an hour.

Richard Loeb, surrounded by detectives, stood in the center of the room listening. He had not had a wink of sleep. Richard felt tired and miserable, and then dizzy and light-headed; he heard the woman's voice droning away, and suddenly his legs buckled underneath him and he fell, fainting, to the floor.

Nathan also was exhausted. Even after he had finished giving his confession that morning, Crowe had kept him sitting and waiting, waiting endlessly in an office in the Criminal Court Building. Now he was in an irritable mood. Nathan had already read the morning newspapers, and he was annoyed that they all painted the murder as the worst crime in the city's history.

Gertrude Barish finally finished talking to the detectives. They left the diner to drive down Cottage Grove Avenue and, in the back of the police car, Nathan gave vent to his indignation.

"I can't understand," Nathan complained, talking to no one in particular, "why the papers say this is such an atrocious murder."

Frank Johnson, the police sergeant who had first brought Nathan in for questioning, turned around in his seat to look at the boy. Johnson had gotten to know Nathan well in the past two days, yet he was as puzzled by the crime as anyone else. How, he wondered, could this slightly shy and rather amiable young man have committed such a callous act?

"Is it necessary," he asked, "that you had to kill the boy?"

"It was," Nathan replied.

"Why?"

Nathan explained that Richard Loeb and Bobby Franks had been second cousins. Bobby knew Richard, and if they had released him, he would surely have identified Richard to the police. "We couldn't afford to take a chance to have him come back and say it was d.i.c.k."

But, Johnson replied, "He didn't know you."

"Well, I lived in the neighborhood and it was just a question of time before he would see me."19 The police car had been traveling south along Cottage Grove Avenue and now it came to a stop outside a hardware store close to 43rd Street. Albert Hubinger had been the clerk on duty at the store when Richard had purchased the cold chisel and the rope. Yes, Hubinger told the detectives, he remembered Richard well-he could identify him as the man who had bought the chisel and rope.20 Two blocks farther on, at a second drugstore at 4458 Cottage Grove Avenue, Aaron Adler remembered selling a pint bottle of hydrochloric acid to Nathan. He had not been likely to forget it, he told the police. He rarely sold such a large quant.i.ty of chemically pure acid; it was a very unusual purchase.21 The police cavalcade drove north along Cottage Grove Avenue to the Leopold family home on Greenwood Avenue; Nathan had promised to provide the hip boots that he had worn in the culvert. Then it was on to Jackson Park to show the detectives the spot where Nathan had thrown the typewriter into the outer harbor. And then out onto South Sh.o.r.e Drive, stopping briefly at 73rd Street to retrieve the partially burned automobile blanket, before traveling out of the city on the Michigan City Road, turning at Forsyth Avenue and onto Hopp Road, where, Richard told the police, they would find the shoes, belt buckle, and cla.s.s pin belonging to Bobby Franks.22

IN C CHICAGO, A SMALL CROWD of onlookers had already gathered at the front entrance of the Criminal Court Building. The spectators never spotted either Nathan or Richard, but they did see, at around two o'clock in the afternoon, four distinguished-looking gentlemen, all dressed in dark suits and with somber expressions, enter the building. of onlookers had already gathered at the front entrance of the Criminal Court Building. The spectators never spotted either Nathan or Richard, but they did see, at around two o'clock in the afternoon, four distinguished-looking gentlemen, all dressed in dark suits and with somber expressions, enter the building.

Milton Smith, an a.s.sistant state's attorney, met with the four men-the father, Nathan Leopold Sr.; a brother, Michael Leopold; an uncle, Jacob Loeb; and the Leopold family lawyer, Benjamin Bachrach-but was unable to let them see Robert Crowe. The state's attorney was still driving around Chicago with Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold.

When would they be back? Smith was not sure: sometime that afternoon, perhaps. But in any case, he warned, it was unlikely that they would be able to see either Crowe or the two boys. The state's attorney would release them only on a writ of habeas corpus and the courts would not open again until Monday morning. Whatever else happened, Smith cautioned, both Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold would remain in police custody until then.23

THE NEXT DAY, S SUNDAY, 1 June, promised to be bright and sunny. The humidity had dropped and the storms that had broken over the city during the week had now rolled on farther west, across the plains and out toward the Pacific. Ruby Darrow lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was not yet seven o'clock and her husband, Clarence, was fast asleep, snoring contentedly. Ruby turned on her side and lifted herself on her elbow to look across at Clarence. His face was lined, his hair had thinned and had long ago turned gray, and his cheeks now sagged with age, but Ruby thought he was still an adorable man, an immensely comforting and rea.s.suring presence in her life.

Suddenly she heard the ringing of the front doorbell. Who could it be so early on a Sunday morning? They did not expect visitors, and in any case no one would presume to visit at such a time. There it was again! The bell had an urgent, persistent tone, as though the visitor would not be denied.

Ruby climbed out of bed to put on her dressing gown and slippers. The bedroom was at one end of their seven-room apartment, and the front door was at the other end of a long corridor along which Ruby now walked, fastening the cord of the gown around her waist as she made her way toward the sound of the bell.

She opened the door. Four men stood before her. Ruby recognized Jacob Loeb, the former president of the Board of Education, but who were the others? Ruby Darrow had not seen them before.

Jacob Loeb bustled into the apartment. He seemed in a desperate hurry.

"We've got to see Clarence Darrow! Is he here?"

"Mr. Darrow is asleep." In an effort to save her Sunday for herself and her husband, Ruby lied to the interlopers. "He isn't well-he should not be disturbed." But Loeb had already pushed his way past her. He now stood in the hallway; his companions had advanced forward behind him.

Clarence Darrow had made his way along the corridor and now suddenly appeared in the vestibule. His presence electrified the men standing before him. Jacob Loeb rushed across to shake his hand in greeting, and the three others cl.u.s.tered around Darrow in eager antic.i.p.ation.

"Thank heavens you are here!...You must save our two boys."

Darrow had known that Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were in police custody, but he had been away from Chicago the previous day, getting into the city late on Sat.u.r.day night. He had not yet heard that both Nathan and Richard had confessed. Darrow, like everyone else in Chicago who knew the families, found it difficult to believe that they were the murderers.

"But they are not guilty.... Their innocence should not be difficult to prove."

"No, no!" Loeb cried out in frustration. "d.i.c.kie and Babe confessed...."

"Then what can I do?"

"Save their lives! Get them a life sentence instead of a death sentence. That's all we ask of you." Jacob Loeb clutched at the attorney's arm. "Money's no object. We'll pay you anything you ask. Only for G.o.d's sake, don't let them be hung."24

WHILE J JACOB L LOEB WAS IMPLORING Clarence Darrow to save them from the gallows, Richard and Nathan were having breakfast in Daly's Restaurant on 63rd Street. Richard had had another restless night in the prison cell: his eyes were puffy and his face was pale and drawn. He sipped a cup of black coffee moodily-his food lay on his plate, untouched. Clarence Darrow to save them from the gallows, Richard and Nathan were having breakfast in Daly's Restaurant on 63rd Street. Richard had had another restless night in the prison cell: his eyes were puffy and his face was pale and drawn. He sipped a cup of black coffee moodily-his food lay on his plate, untouched.

Richard stared glumly across the table at Nathan. It irritated him that the other boy was always so chipper; even now, Nathan was laughing and joking, bantering with the police escort, flirting with the blond waitress, and asking for a second plate of scrambled eggs. One would have thought Nathan had not a care in the world.

The chief of detectives, Michael Hughes, had finished his own breakfast, and now he was looking apprehensively at the crowd gathering outside the restaurant-news had obviously spread through the neighborhood that the police had brought Leopold and Loeb there. He looked at his watch-it was already nine-thirty, and Robert Crowe wanted the boys back at the Criminal Court Building by noon. It was time to go. Nathan was now munching a jelly doughnut and drinking a cup of coffee; as soon as he had finished, Hughes announced, they would be on their way.25 Crowe had asked Hughes to search for the two pieces of evidence that had eluded the police the previous day: the Underwood typewriter, thrown into the harbor at Jackson Park; and the belt belonging to Bobby Franks, hidden in gra.s.s near Hessville. It was only a short drive from the restaurant across to Jackson Park, and Hughes was optimistic that they would pick up the typewriter that morning. He had already directed police divers to the spot where Nathan had thrown it; the divers would be waiting for them at the harbor.

Three thousand spectators waited at the outer edge of the harbor. The crowd stirred when it saw the long cavalcade of black cars pull up; then, as Nathan Leopold stepped out of one car, followed by Richard Loeb from a second car, a roar of recognition flashed around the crowd, a deafening cheer as everyone pointed and waved and shouted at the two murderers.26 Nathan leaned over the parapet. He had thrown the typewriter as far as possible-he guessed that it had landed about fifteen feet from the bridge. He pointed to the spot. The diver disappeared into the water, and the crowd waited, but the thick mud at the bottom of the harbor was impenetrable.

Michael Hughes signaled to Walter Sullivan, a reporter for the Chicago Herald and Examiner Chicago Herald and Examiner, and to Morrow Krum of the Chicago Daily Tribune Chicago Daily Tribune. The police cars would leave shortly for the drive to Hessville; would they like to ride in the cars with the two prisoners?

The relations.h.i.+p between the police and journalists in Chicago during the 1920s was one of mutual dependence. The reporters would write favorably of the police department in its war against crime, and in return the police would grant access to criminals, supply the newspapers with valuable information, and leak important tidbits about sensational trials. Hughes had known Sullivan and Krum, both veteran journalists, for many years. They were reliable allies who could be trusted to write well of his men.

Michael Hughes knew also that in allowing the reporters access to Nathan and Richard, he might help the two prisoners convict themselves in the court of public opinion. Nathan and Richard had confessed, but those confessions might yet be repudiated. However, if they were to talk of the murder to the reporters, and if their remarks were to be printed in the newspapers, how could their guilt be denied? Nathan and Richard had not yet expressed any remorse for the murder or any regret for the pain they had caused the Franks family. They seemed, rather, to have adopted a cynical, callous att.i.tude toward the killing, as though it were morally inconsequential; all the better, therefore, if their comments about the murder were reported in the newspapers for public consumption.

On the ride to Hessville, a journey of approximately forty minutes, Walter Sullivan sat with Nathan in one car while Morrow Krum traveled with Richard in the other car. It was not long before both prisoners were gossiping about the crime, revealing details about themselves that blackened them irretrievably when Chicagoans opened their newspapers the following day.