“You wrapped it up in a paper and folded it up,” Robinson said, walking back again to the defense table. Again he picked up the Boston Globe. “Perhaps you will illustrate how you folded it up in the paper.” He handed him the newspaper. “You won’t need the piece of wood,” he said, “just the hatchet head.”
“This is only as near as I can remember doing it,” Medley said.
“Well, that’s quite right, that’s all I have a right to ask you.”
Medley set the hatchet head in the exact center of the newspaper spread in his lap. He folded the page over it.
“I’m not very tidy at such things,” he said.
He folded the page again. He turned the partially wrapped hatchet head sidewards in his lap, and folded the newspaper over it several more times.
“Now that,” he said, “as near as I can think, is about how I did it. Then I put it in my pocket.” He looked down at the package. “Nothing stylish about the manner of wrapping it up,” he said.
“Well, I’m glad to find a man that’s not in style,” Robinson said. “Then you carried it off down to the police station?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you show it to any other officer?”
“Yes, I showed it to one officer as I was passing out. I can’t think now who it was. I had it in my pocket.”
“Side pocket?”
“Yes.”
“Did you wear a sack coat at the time?”
“Yes, sir. A cotton summer sack coat. Not like this one. It was a light-colored coat. And I showed him the hatchet head. I think I tore enough of the paper off, or something, to let him see what it was.”
“Did you state that you were a patrolman last year?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And are you now?”
“No, sir.”
“You’ve been promoted?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“In December.”
“Now, Lieutenant Edson, you participated in the search of the Borden house on Monday, August eighth, did you not?”
“I did.”
“Did you or any other party, to your knowledge, on that Monday take anything away from the house?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you take?”
“Officer Medley had a hatchet head in his pocket.”
“Did you see it?”
“He showed it to me partly.”
“Do you know where he got it?”
“I do not.”
“When did he show it to you?”
“Just as he was about to leave, he came to me and pulled it out of his pocket. It was in a paper.”
“It was wrapped in a paper?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t see it before that?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you examine it?”
“No, sir. Glanced at it, that’s all.”
“What did he do with it?”
“Went off with it. Away from the building.”
“It was only the small hatchet? Had no handle?”
“No handle.”
“And he didn’t have any handle in his possession, did he? That he showed to you?”
“No, sir.”
“You didn’t see any loose handle around there?”
“No, sir.”
“And you didn’t find one yourself?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I don’t care for anything else. You spoke of being now lieutenant of police, and last August acting sergeant of police?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That is a promotion, I take it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When were you promoted?”
“February, this year.”
“Has Captain Harrington been promoted?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Doherty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is Mr. Medley’s capacity now?”
“Inspector with rank of lieutenant.”
“Was he the same last year?”
“No, sir.”
“What was he last year?”
“Patrolman.”
“Anybody else of those that were around the Borden house that have been promoted?”
“Connors.”
“What was he, and what is he?”
“At that time, he was acting sergeant.”
“Now lieutenant?”
“Captain.”
“Go clear up by one promotion?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And of the others that you recall?”
“Desmond. Captain.”
“What was he last year?”
“At that time, he was acting captain.”
“Now he is captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anybody else?”
“No, sir.”
“Has Mr. Mullaly been promoted?”
“No, sir.”
Lizzie smiled.
It was Mullaly who had surprised everyone earlier by testifying that he’d found a second piece of the hatchet handle in that box on the basement shelf.
My name is Francis W. Draper. I am by profession a physician. My medical education was in the Harvard Medical School in Boston. I have been in practice as a physician since 1869, now twenty-four years. I have been one of the medical examiners for Suffolk County since the office was created by the legislature in 1877. In that time, I have been called upon in a great many cases, nearly thirty-five hundred. All cases of suspicion, all cases of death, where a homicide was suspected or charged.
The first knowledge I had of this matter was the receipt of a dispatch at my home in Boston, which purported to be a telephone message from Dr. Dolan. I came down to Fall River the same day, but I did not at that time go with him to see the bodies. I arranged with him, and the next day — August eleventh — went to Oak Grove Cemetery and saw the bodies with him. At that time, I assisted at an autopsy of those bodies. I made an examination of the wounds upon the head of Mr. Borden, and I drew these marks upon the plaster cast as it is here. They are intended to be an accurate approximation of position and length. I will try to hold it, but I should like to refer to my notes as well.
“How many of the wounds,” Knowlton asked, “and which of them, penetrate the bone of the skull?”
“Four of them. The one which cut through the left eye, and the three in this vicinity, above and in front of the left ear.”
“How deep was the wound that went through the eye?”
“I don’t know, sir. Because it went through the bone behind the eye, and how deep it went into the brain, I don’t know.”
“How many of the others went into the bone of the skull, without going through?”
“Three of them, sir.”
“And which three of them?”
“These in the left temple.”
“The short one, and the two on each side there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the three that went through are the three there, and the one in the eye?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is there anything in the nature or character of the wounds upon the head of Mrs. Borden that assists you in determining the size of the instrument or of the cutting edge of the instrument used to inflict the wounds?”
“No, sir.”
“Is there anything in the nature or character of the wounds upon the head of Mr. Borden which would so assist you?”
“There is.”
“Would the skull itself be of assistance in pointing out such things as occur to you to be important?”
“It would.”
“Then in that case, although I regret very much the necessity of doing it, I shall have to ask Dr. Dolan to produce it.”
He turned toward Robinson as the medical examiner came from the back of the courtroom, Andrew Borden’s skull in his hands.
“I understand it to be agreed,” he said, “without recalling Dr. Dolan to the stand, that this is the skull of Mr. Borden?”