The Poison Precedent: Part Two

In late eighteen ninety eight, two of his nemeses, his romantic rival Henry Barnett, who had once wooed Roland's wife Blanche, and his personal rival Harry Cornish, who had battled Roland for status at the Knickerbocker Athletic Club, and one received mysterious anonymous packages, each containing what looked like ordinary medicine. Henry Barnett took a bit of his and died two weeks later. Harry Cornish brought his home, where his relative

Catherine Adams took some and died in minutes. Both Barnett and Adams were found to have been killed by cyanide of mercury. Detectives quickly locked in on Roland Molineux as a suspect, but were only able to build a circumstantial case against him. They eventually managed to wrangle a handwriting sample from Roland after handwriting experts agreed that Roland's handwriting matched the writing on the poison package sent to Harry Cornish.

The DA's office charged Roland with Catherine Adams's murder at the trial, which began in November eighteen ninety nine. Prosecutor James Osborne also submitted evidence from the Henry Barnett case, although Roland was not charged with this crime, using it to weave a complicated tale of envy and revenge. Osborne's case, the longest murder prosecution in New York history to the point,

finally concluded on February fifth, nineteen hundred. We're picking up the story the next day, Tuesday, February sixth, as Roland's lead defense counsel, Bartow Weeks stands to begin his eagerly anticipated defense case. Will Roland take the stand? What about his wife Blanche? Or does the defense have something else entirely up their sleeve. You're listening to history on trial. I'm your host, Mira Hayward. This week New York v. Roland Malineux. A hush fell over the courtroom as Bartow

Weeks rose to speak. The thirty nine year old Weeks had a commanding physical presence. He was nearly as well known for his involvement with athletics as he was for his legal acumen. But today he looked pale and drawn. He was suffering from a mild case of laryngitis, true, and the month's long trial had no doubt worn on him. But there was something else too, an undercurrent of uneasiness,

even fear. And for good reason, it would turn out, Bartow Weeks was about to shock all of New York by announcing a decision that he and his legal team had agonized over. May it please the court, Weeks began, after a careful consideration of the case, We believe that the prosecution has utterly failed to make a case against this defendant, and that he has not been proved guilty, and the jury should not find him so. Believing this as we do, we rest upon the case made by

the prosecution. The lead prosecutor, Assistant District Attorney James Osborne, looked astounded. The crowd briefly shocked into silence, began to murmur only Roland Molineux, smiling enigmatically at the jury, seemed to the decision to not present a defense, which both Roland and his father had agreed to, was meant to deliver a symbolic message that the state had presented such a weak case that the defense had no need to

rebut it with witnesses of their own. In his closing argument, Weeks detailed what he called quote the missing links in the evidence. Take the silver bottleholder, which had been sent to Harry Cornish along with the poisoned Bromo Seltzer. The police hadn't proved that Roland bought the silver bottleholder. They had only proved that a shop that Roland had once been seen near had once sold a silver bottleholder. Roland worked down the street from this shop. Was it really

so damning that he had been seen near it? Weeks next turned to the handwriting analysis. The prosecution's experts claimed that Roland's handwriting matched the writing on the poison package. But could these experts really be so sure of their conclusions? Weeks brought up the Dreyfus affair, an infamous contemporary miscarriage of Justice in France. In that case, Weeks told jurors, quote, a man spent five years in jail because the handwriting

experts were mistaken. Next, he questioned the identifications made by Joseph Coche and Nicholas Heckman, owners of the private letter boxes that Roland had allegedly rented in Henry Barnett and Harry Cornish's names. Weeks reminded jurors that both men had initially refused to identify Roland, and that Heckman had even tried to get payment for his statement. About the testimony presented by Blanche's former maids who discussed the love triangle

between Blanche Roland and Henry Barnett, Weeks was contemptuous. This was just an underhanded attempt by the prosecution to insult the defendant's wife. James Osborne, ever confrontational, loudly asked Weeks why he had denied the maid's claims. Weeks wheeled on Osborne with what The New York Times called quote the ferocity of a tiger. Why did we not deny it, Weeks asked, incredulously, because we were not called upon to

deny it. It was not necessary to deny it called upon to deny such infamous lies, How dare you to produce it when you could not connect it with this case? Osborne did not respond. Besides being a moment of high drama, this exchange reminded jurors that Roland was not on trial for Henry Barnett's murder, and the prosecution hadn't produced a compelling motive for Roland to murder Harry Cornish. Roland and

Cornish had squabbled. Weeks acknowledged, but he asked, quote, would the defendant imperil his life, ruin his family, drag them to dishonor and disgrace for such a trifling motive? As that it mattered that the evidence was rock solid, Weeks told jurors because it was upon that evidence that they would be sentencing a man to death, the mandatory punishment for first degree murder in New York at the time.

Weeks did not spare them the graphic details of what Roland would endure if executed, describing the effect of the electric chair on the human body. In the audience, Blanche Molineux wept loudly by the end of his closing argument, which spanned more than eight hours over two days. Weeks was visibly exhausted. His voice was hoarse and ragged, but this only made his plea more poignant, as he asked the jurors to quote Air on humanity's side. The wrong

you do, he said, can never be restored. Gentlemen, in a case of doubt, when the scales are oscillating, let them turn in favor of the prisoner. It is a terrible thing to destroy the temple of an immortal soul. On Thursday, February eighth, James Osborne delivered the prosecution's closing arguments. Osborne was a born showman, and he brought all of his passion to this final performance. Before getting to the

facts of the case, Osborne attacked the defense's strategy. Looking right at Bartow Weeks, Osborne shouted, quote, if you knew of a single witness who could have aided the theory of the defendant's innocence and did not call him, you have violated your oath as a counselor. Your action is a plea of guilty. Week subjected to this attack, but Judge John Goff allowed it. Osborne would return to this

point over and over, calling the defense's choice unnatural. Quote it is one of the prime evil principles of human nature to say, when you are accused of a crime, I am not guilty. See here are my witnesses. But Osborne wasn't surprised to see Roland Molineux behaving abnormally. Throughout both the press coverage and the prosecution of the case, Roland's strangeness had been a theme. People had speculated on his behavior, his associates, and his sexuality. Poisoning was seen

to be a woman's crime. What kind of man would use poison as opposed to say, his fists to kill? And then there were the numerous impotence cures that Roland had allegedly ordered to the private letterboxes. The prosecution was quick to play up these themes, insinuating that a lack of virility made Roland less of a man and thus more likely to kill with a womanly method. This murder,

Osborne said, was quote an outre strange, abnormal crime. We must therefore look for a man who is outre strange abnormal. These attempts at criminal profiling were based on contemporary gender norms and stereotypes, and though they are obviously offensive, they were likely compelling to jurors. They also weren't the only

character based arguments Osborne made. He brought up Roland's behavior during the trial, describing how, quote, when reference was made to the death of Missus Adams and the death agonies of Barnet, you have seen the defendant laughing, coolly laughing. It is this attitude, gentlemen, which shows that the defendant has an entire absence of soul. Osborne's closing was an entirely personal attacks though he reviewed all of the evidence, pointing out that even if it was circumstantial, every single

piece of it pointed back to Roland Molineux. Like a bloated spider in his web, Osborne said, the poisoner spun out his filaments to the outer world. We must trace for the end of the filaments back to the center. Here's a line running out to Barnett. We trace it back, and at the other end is the mind of Molineux. A line running out to Cornish. Tracing it back to

the web center, we find the mind of Molineux. A line stretching to the blue crested paper, a line stretching to Heckman's letter box, and at the center of the web to which all these lines extend, we find spinning its deadly plots the mind of Molineux. Osborne agreed with Weeks that the stakes were high, but not for Roland. The stakes were high for the community, who would not

be safe should Roland be set free. Ending his nearly six hour summation, his voice raised to full volume, Osborne thundered, I say that the evidence from every direction points to that conclusion, and I leave this case in your hands, knowing that you will find your verdict in the sight of God, in the sight of man, without fear and without favor. The next day, Judge goth summarized the evidence and charged the jury at three twenty three p m.

The jurors were dismissed to deliberate. Outside the courtroom, bookmakers were laying odds on the verdict. The odds favored acquittal. In his cell in the tombs, Roland Molineux was not so confident. He began chronicling his feelings in a journal while he waited. I am very tired, he wrote. For full three months. I have been under a physical strain and a mental tension. I have been falsely accused. I am innocent. An hour later, with no news from the jury.

He reflected, I am chemist enough to love an experiment. The jury is the unknown substance, the testimony, the reagent. My case is in solution. What will precipitate? It would take more than seven hours for the jury to reach a verdict. At ten forty eight pm, the jurors filed back into the courtroom. Roland Molineu came in next. His face was dead white, a reporter recorded, and his dark eyes shone like live coals. The court clerk asked the jury foreman to announce their findings on the charge of

murder for the death of Catherine J. Adams. The defendant, Roland Molineux was found guilty. There is no good place to contemplate your impending execution, but Sing Singh's death House was especially grim. Built in eighteen ninety to hold condemned prisoners, the death house contained both cells and the execution chamber itself. Each prisoner was kept in a windowless, stone walled cell. From behind these walls, they could not see one another,

but they were constantly surveilled by others. The lights stayed on all night, allowing the wardens, who walked incessantly up and down the corridor to watch the inmates. The men were not allowed outside and they could only bathe once a week. The worst part of the death House was

the sounds. Because the execution chamber neighbored the cells, inmates could hear every step of the grisly process, the slow walk to the chamber, the administration of last rites, the sickening thrum of the electric chair, and the appalling sounds of the autopsy conducted after Roland. Molneux, who entered the death House on February sixteenth, nineteen hundred, called execution days quote the greatest horror we are called upon to bear. Roland had done his best to avoid the death House.

At his sentencing, he had delivered a powerful, moving statement to Judge Goff, proclaiming his own inn an sc since many wondered, given how well Roland did, why Barto Weeks had not put him on the stand during his trial. Now, his words, however compelling, meant nothing. New York mandated the death penalty for first degree murder. Judge Goff sentenced Roland to be put to death during the week of March twenty sixth, nineteen hundred. He was transported to sing Sing

only hours later. Roland's projection of calm optimism, which he had maintained for months now, did not falter. On the journey to sing Sing, he joked with passengers on the train to Austening, many of whom had bought tickets just to see him, and admired the scenery of the Hudson Valley. But the oppressive atmosphere of the Death House quickly took a toll on Roland. When Blanche visited him less than a week after his arrival, she found Roland a shell

of his former self. His eyes, she later wrote, they were dead and expressionless, set in a stone mask that was immovable. The soul of him was dead. It had gone out of him. During his trial, a journalist had called Roland a man in a mask, but that had been a mask he had chosen to wear. This mask did not seem voluntary. He seemed finally to have accepted the reality of his situation and had become, Blanche observed, obsessed with freeing himself. Back in New York City, Roland's

lawyers were working hard on his behalf. In early March, bartow Weeks and George Gordon Battle filed a notice of appeal Roland's execution was put on hold as the appeal was prepared. Weeks in Battle decided to engage another lawyer to argue the case, landing on John G. Milbourne. Milburn was an accomplished attorney and a leading citizen of Buffalo,

where the New York Court of Appeals was based. There were a number of delays in the process, but Roland's appeal was finally scheduled for June seventeenth, nineteen oh one. David Hill, a former governor of New York and ex US Senator, had been retained by the Manhattan District Attorney to represent the States case at the appeal. On Monday, June seventeenth, the seven judges of the New York Court of Appeals seated themselves to hear arguments in Roland's case.

John Milburn, for the defense, spoke first. The main thrust of his argument quickly became clear. Milburn believed that it had been an error on Judge Goff's part to admit any evidence about the Henry Barnett case. When your honors read the court record, Milburn said, it will require an effort of your mind to convince yourselves that you are reading a record of an attempt to poison Harry Cornish, and not a record of the alleged murder of Henry C. Barnett.

Seven tenths of the evidence in this record relates to the death of Barnett. The Barnet case was irrelevant. Milburn argued, if Barnett were murdered and if Missus Adams were murdered, they were two separate and distinct crimes. He said, and thus quote the admission of evidence of one crime on an indictment charging the other was improper and incompetent, and its admission was clearly an error. Towards the end of his argument, which spanned five hours over the course of

two days, Milburn made a grave charge. The admission of the Barnet evidence, he claimed, had not been a simple mistake on Judge Goff's part. It had been part of a larger pattern of bias against the defendant. The judge in this case, Milburn stated, took the side of the prosecution from the very beginning to the very ending. Milburn acknowledged that accusing a judge of impartiality was a serious matter, but he believed that the record backed his accusation up.

He claimed that quote every piece of testimony which seemed to be damaging to the defendant was freely and welcomingly admitted, while everything which seemed to be in the prisoner's favor was hampered and repressed, battered, and cross examined by the court. He pointed out the insults Judge Gough had aimed at defense attorney Bartow Weeks, including when Gough admonished Weeks for his quote fatal and ungovernable habit of talking, an insult

I probably would never recover from. Milburn brought up a variety of other points. He criticized the admission of testimony relating to Blanche, Judge Goth's charge to the jury, which he claimed was also biased, the lack of proven motive, and the reliability of handwriting analysis. But to observers, according to the Buffalo Inquirer, it was clear that Quote Milburn rests his case upon the alleged error of Judge Goth

in admitting the evidence relating to Barnett's death. Once Milburne finished on the afternoon June eighteenth, David Hill presented the state's argument. Hill argued that the Barnet evidence was admissible. The Barnet case was introduced, he said, in order to quote make the chain of evidence complete and prove the

theory of the prosecution in the Adams case. Hill rebutted Milbourne's argument that the two cases had nothing in common, saying, quote, there is the same hiring of private letter boxes in the names of the intended victims, the same writing for samples of medicine in the names of the victims, the same plan of assassination, the same drug cyanide of mercury used. Though Hill acknowledged that quote in the prosecution of one crime, you cannot prove another, he said that this case was

an exception to the rule. It was an abnormal crime by an abnormal man, Hill argued, echoing Osborne's closing, and as a consequence, it produced an abnormal condition on the trial. Hill also cited another poisoning case in which the court had ruled that it defend its history of attempted poisonings could be discussed in his trial for poisoning his wife.

After briefly addressing Milbourne's other claims, Hill said that the handwriting analysis had been properly conducted, that the judge's charge was fair, and that the prosecution had provided a compelling motive. Hill finished by saying, quote, no substantial error was made upon this trial. No real, genuine evidence was excluded. Nothing that was immaterial or irrelevant, incompetent, or improper of any consequence was admitted. After a series of questions from the judges,

the appeal concluded on the afternoon of June nineteenth. Four months later, on October fifteenth, the Court of Appeals published its ruling on the Malinu case. Though the opinion, which was not unanimous, addressed several points, including the admissibility of handwriting analysis, the majority of the opinion focused on whether

the Barnett evidence was inadmissible. Judge William E. Werner began by reviewing why discussion of or bad acts, whether charged, uncharged, or resulting in a conviction, is generally not allowed at trial.

This rule, Werner wrote, is the product of that same humane and enlightened public spirit, which, speaking through our common law, has decreed that every person charged with the commission of a crime shall be protected by the presumption of innocence until he has been proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Werner cited a ruling by the Pennsylvania Supreme Court in

Schaffner v. Commonwealth. Logically, the commission of an independent offense is not proof in itself of the commission of another crime. Yet it cannot be said to be without influence on the mind. For certainly, if one be shown to be guilty of another crime equally heinous, it will prompt a more ready belief that he might have committed the one with which he is charged. It therefore predisposes the mind

of the juror to believe the prisoner guilty. Because of the enormous weight this kind of evidence could carry, Werner explained there were only rare instances in which it was admissible.

Werner described these instances as falling into five categories. If evidence of prior bad acts established motive or intent, or the absence of mistake or accident, or a common scheme or plan, or the identity of the person charged with the commission of the crime on trial, then this evidence might be admissible, as long as it was more probative than prejudicial. Werner then examined the Malnu case to see

if any of these exceptions applied. Motive was irrelevant, Werner said because the alleged motives for each killing were distinct and unrelated intent. Whether or not the person intended to commit a criminal act was also irrelevant. Whoever had killed Catherine Adams had clearly intended to kill someone by sending them poison disguised as medicine. No additional evidence was needed to prove this. The same reasoning applied to the exception

for mistakes or accidents. This crime was clearly not an accident. The two crimes could also not be said to be part of a quote single design, as no evidence showed that they were quote united for the accomplishment of a

common purpose. As to the final exception, identity, Werner said that the Barnet evidence would only be allowed for this purpose if quote it had been shown conclusively that the defendant had killed Barnet and that no other person could have killed Missus Adams, but no such evidence was given. The evidence tended to show that the defendant had the knowledge, skill, and material to produce the poison which was sent to Cornish, but he was not shown to be the only person

possessed of this knowledge, skill and material. Therefore, the naked similarity of these crimes proves nothing. David Hill had claimed that Roland's case was an exception to the general rule, an abnormal propit sus justified by an abnormal crime. The appeals court did not agree. According to their ruling, the Barnet evidence was inadmissible. Thus they reversed Roland's conviction and

ordered a new trial. Early the next morning, Roland received news of the decision in his cell in the death House. He seemed stunned, then laughed and said it seems too good to be true. The following day, October seventeenth, Roland was transferred out of Sing Sing and back to the Tombs in Manhattan, where he would occupy the same cell he had during his first trial. The city jail was no luxury hotel, but anything was better than the death House.

Roland would just have to hope that his second trial wouldn't send him right back in the Malinus Fort Green Brownstone. Blanche Molnu couldn't help but feel that her sentence had just been extended. Blanche would later write in her memoirs that even from the earliest days of the investigation, she had begun to draw away from Roland. By the middle of his first trial, she was completely repulsed by him. She felt misled. She had agreed to marry Roland because

he'd offered a comfortable life full of the arts and travel. Instead, she'd gotten relentless public scrutiny. She had attended Roland's first trial, putting on the act of devoted wife, only out of affection for General Molineux, who she described as a quote fine and splendid and brave man. By early nineteen oh two, however, Blanche's patience had worn thin. She'd been cloistered in the Fort Greenhouse with limited contact with the outside world for

three years. Her cabin fever was intense. She missed seeing friends and going to concerts and singing in her choir. In August, she moved out of the Malinus House into a residential suite in a Manhattan hotel. General Molineu was covering her expenses and giving her an allowance on the condition that she attended Roland's upcoming trial, But when the trial began on Monday, October thirteenth, nineteen oh two, Blanche was nowhere to be found. He would not attend a

single day. General Molineu, on the other hand, was a constant presence, as was Harry Cornish. A number of other familiar faces filled the courtroom eighty A. James Osborne was once again leading the prosecution. Bar two Weeks was back too, but he would not be lead defense council. Weeks's decision not to present a defense had been a controversial gamble,

and ultimately it hadn't paid off. After the verdict, one jer had asked a reporter quote, if Molineux had friends, or if his lawyers had witnesses who could have testified on his behalf, why weren't they called? This time around? The defense would fight back, led by Attorney Frank S. Black, a former United States representative and ex governor of New York.

John S. Lambert, a justice on the New York Supreme Court, presided Lambert ran a tight ship, and it soon became clear that this trial would not be as prolonged as the first jury selection, for example, took only two days, not three weeks. Ady A. Osborne delivered an abbreviated opening statement, perhaps out of deference for Lambert's preferences, or maybe because he had less material to work with. Thanks to the appeals court ruling, Osborne could not discuss the Burnett case

in the same detail as he had before. He kept things focused on the Adams case and on Roland Molineux, saying that the defendant met all the requirements to commit this murder, knowledge of poisons, knowledge of Hartigan's jewelry store in Newark, which had sold the silver bottle holder, access to a private letterbox, and above all quote a strong, continuing, deadly hatred of Cornish from there. The trial progressed rapidly. Instead of months of testimony, the prosecution presented their case

in seven days. Most of the major themes were the same. Handwriting experts appeared to identify the handwriting on the letters and poison package as belonging to Roland. Harry Cornish and other Knickerbocker members testified about Roland and Cornish's feud, but the prosecution encountered several new obstacles in this trial. Several key witnesses were missing. Elsie Gray, the bookkeeper at Cutno's,

had died in the first trial. She had discussed a letter her company received requesting a sample of Cutno's improved effervescent powder, the product that Henry Barnett had taken shortly before his death. The letter, Gray had said was written on distinctive Robin's egg blue stationary emblazoned with silver crescents. It had been signed H. Barnett, but had been dated

and since several weeks after his death. Justice Lambert allowed Gray's testimony from the first trial to be read aloud in court, but Lambert would not allow Osborne to read the testimony of another missing witness, Mami Milando. In the first trial, New York police had tricked Milando into entering the state. This time, she went into hiding in New Jersey.

Detective Joseph Farrell, the New York police officer who had testified in the first trial to having seen Roland near Hartigan's jewelry store on the day the silver bottleholder was sold, was similarly absent, having taken a curiously timed vacation right as the trial started. The prosecution thought that the defense might have encouraged Milando and Ferrell's absences. Ady A. Osborne enlisted his boss, District Attorney William Travers Jerome, to look

into the matter. As a fun side note, Jerome's predecessor, Asa Bird Gardiner, who had supervised Roland's first prosecution, was removed from office by Governor Theodore Roosevelt in nineteen hundred for rampant corruption. Oops Jerome appealed to the Governor of New Jersey to pressure the Newark Police to help produce the missing witnesses. The governor agreed, but neither Milando nor Ferrell ever took the stand. These absences were less striking

than the absence of Henry Barnett from the proceedings. No longer allowed to discuss the Barnett case, Osborne found his prosecution hollowed out. He could not bring in many key pieces of evidence, such as the diagnosis form signed with Barnett's name but filled out with Roland Molineu's measurements, which connected Roland to the private letterboxes. But Osborne didn't give up, bringing in every shred of evidence he could before resting

the state's case on October twenty ninth. On October thirty first, the defense began its case. Frank Black's opening statement took less than five minutes. He called the evidence against Roland quote trivial and unimportant, and then, in the most highly anticipated moment of the trial, he called Roland Molineux to

the stand. By this point, Roland had had nearly three years in jail to consider his testimony, and his preparation enhanced by his natural composure showed he was extremely polite and patient even during Osborne's cross examination, refusing to be rattled. He readily admitted to disliking Cornish, but dismissed his anger at the man as a passing phase. He acknowledged that he might once have written a letter on Robin's egg

blue stationary, but denied owning multiple sheets. This testimony did give James Osborne a chance to shoehorn in part of the missing Mamie Milando's testimony, when he asked, quote, outside of her statements at the former trial, did you ever hear Mamie Milando's state that she saw six sheets of

this paper in your desk? But Roland, on ruffled, simply said no. As a reporter for The New York Times observed, quote, all of mister Osborne's persistence and the cutting questions he asked failed to shatter the calmness and courtesy of the witness. But the reporter also noted that Roland's poise was almost uncanny writing quote. Many said he was acting, but they

also said that it was remarkably good acting. After Roland's testimony, the defense presented a number of handwriting experts of their own. These handwriting experts didn't add much to the case. Their testimony was dry, and several of them struggled under cross examination, but the defense felt that they had at least placed the question of the reliability of handwriting analysis into the jury's mind. Much more exciting than the experts were the

various new witnesses the defense managed to produce. Chief among this crop was Anna Stevenson, a Brooklyn resident in her mid fifties with a surprising story to tell on the stand. In a nervous voice, Stephenson claimed that on December twenty third, eighteen ninety eight, the day the poison package was mailed, she had observed a man sending a package addressed to Harry Cornish at the Knickerbocker Club, and she was certain

that the man sending the package was not Roland Molineux. Stephenson, however, was not the most credible witness. On cross examination, James Osborne got Stevenson to admit that she could barely read without her glasses and that she hadn't been wearing her glasses on the days she claimed to have read the

poison package's label. But other parts of Stephenson's testimony stuck Her claim that Roland wasn't the sender was backed up by another new witness, doctor Hermann Volti, a professor of chemistry at Columbia University, who claimed that Roland had been with him for the entire afternoon of the twenty third, and after Stephenson had said that she was certain Lew

hadn't sent the package, Osborne made a mistake. He had Harry Cornish stand up and then asked Stevenson, quote, is that the man you saw with the poison package that day? Never ask a question you don't know the answer to? To Osborne's chagrin, Stevenson replied, he looks very much like that man. The defense was delighted. Throughout their case they'd been advancing an alternate theory of the crime, one in which Harry Cornish, not Roland Molineux, was the real poisoner.

While cross examining Cornish, Frank Black had discussed Cornish's own sordid romantic history and highlighted Cornish's connection to Newark and friendship with a chemist Black also called Louis Jacobson, a clerk at a drug store near Cornish's former apartment. Jacobson testified that Harry Cornish and Florence Rogers, Catherine Adams's daughter had once come into his store and ordered pre mixed

Bromo seltzer drinks from his soda fountain. On several occasions, Jacobson said he had sold Florence Rogers bottles of Bromo seltzer. In his closing argument, which began on Monday, November tenth, Black devoted much of his time to attacking Cornish. First. Though Black ripped into the case against Roland of Roland's alleged motive for killing Cornish, Black dismissively said, quote, there

are plainer motives than that in every church quarrel. He questioned why Roland, if he wanted to kill Cornish, would send poison to him at the Knickerbocker, where Roland had friends who could have been hurt. Men do not wreck a railroad train in order to murder an individual, Black scoughed. Moreover, Black continued, why would Roland send a package with a handwritten address to a club where many people knew his handwriting if he were trying to conceal his role in

the crime. Whatever else Molineu may be, Black said, he is not a fool. Black pointed out the circumstantial nature of the prosecution's case, saying, the blue paper is all the tangible evidence the prosecution has in all this contemptible, massive testimony. He told jurors that the company who made the blue stationery had sold more than forty thousand sheets of it. It was a crime to murder Missus Adams, Black said, but it would be a bigger crime to

take the life of a man upon such evidence as that. Next, Black moved on to Harry Cornish. Cornish's motive, which Black claimed was a desire to be with the Florence Rogers, which Catherine Adams stood in the way of, was much stronger. In his view. He emphasized Cornish's close friendship with a chemist, John Yocum, his uncertain alibi on the day the poison package was mailed, and the fact that he had not

attended Adams's funeral. In conclusion, Black argued, as one reporter put it, quote, that every circumstance in the case pointed to Cornish, while not a single fact pointed to the guilt of Molineux. In truth, Black's case against Cornish was mostly smoke and mirrors, but it did put eighty eight Osborne on the defensive during his own closing argument, Cornish's so called motive, Osborne said, was an invention. No evidence had ever been found of a romantic relationship between Cornish

and Florence Rogers. When Missus Adams died, he said, her daughter held her in her arms. I ask you, gentlemen, if it does not stagger belief to suppose that this woman was in a conspiracy to murder her mother. Osborne also very sweetly said the Cornish was simply too stupid to have committed this murder. Look at Cornish, he instructed the jurors, big, muscular, aggressive and with not much sense. You can't make a poisoner out of such a man.

With Cornish defended and also probably insulted, Osborne moved on to Roland Molineux. He reviewed Roland's motive, reminding jurors that it didn't matter if a motive made sense to them, It only mattered if it made sense to the killer. He highlighted Roland's relentless campaign against Cornish, which had continued even after Roland had lost the war and had to

leave the Knickerbocker. He reviewed the testimony of the handwriting experts who had connected Roland's handwriting to the poison package. At this point, the court adjourned for the day. When Osborne resumed the next morning, November eleventh, he spoke for a further ninety minutes for The New York Times quote those who heard the speech said that no element of the prosecution's case that could possibly count against the defendant

was omitted. In the end, Osborne told the jurors that they had a duty to stand strong and vote with their consciences, no matter their quote. Natural indisposition to cause harm to a fellow being. With closing arguments finished just as Lamb began his review of the evidence and his instruction to the jury. Then at three fourteen pm, he sent the jury to deliberate. The jury was back at three point twenty seven. The short deliberation gave the defense

cause for hope. As guards led Roland back into the courtroom, Barto Weeks told him, quote, the time shows its acquittal. Roland, ever confident, replied, quote, I've never doubted it. But as the minutes dragged on while they waited for Justice Lambert to return to the courtroom, the tension built. In Roland's first trial. The jurors who had convicted him had refused to look him in the eye. As he watched these jurors violin, he noticed them looking away too. Finally Justice

Lambert arrived. He asked the jury Foreman Edward Young to stand and deliver the verdict on the charge of murder in the death of Catherine j Adams. The defendant, Roland Moleneu, was found not guilty. The courtroom erupted in cheers. The celebration went on for five minutes before Justice Lambert regained control. He asked District Attorney Jerome if they had any further cases against the defendant. When Jerome said no, Lambert ordered

Roland released. Eighty eight James Osborne looked devastated by the verdict, so distraught that even the jurors went to comfort him, with Foreman Edward Young telling him, we had to go against you, but you went down with flying colors. Interviews

with other jurors expanded on the point. They revealed to The New York Times that their vote had been unanimous on the first ballot even before they had discussed the case, largely because, in the words of juror John Redner, quote, the prosecution failed to connect the defendant with the cyanide of mercury or with the purchase of the silver holder. Juror Charles O'Connor explained that though quote I do not

think the evidence conclusively proved that Molineux was innocent. I did not feel that the evidence furnished was sufficient to warrant taking a man's life. But the jurors felt Osborne had done the best he could, with one even telling him they would vote for him if he ran for district attorney. Osborne never became district attorney, but he enjoyed a successful lock career. In nineteen thirteen, he was appointed Special Attorney General to investigate conditions at sing Sing. His

work there prompted massive reforms. Roland Molineu and his father shared a carriage to Brooklyn, a large crowd following them through the streets and chanting malin knew, malin knew Yeah. Not the most catch each year. Arriving at the Fort Greenhouse, Roland ran up the front steps towards his mother, who flung her arms around him onlookers cheered loudly. Notably absent

from this touching scene was Blanche. People were not entirely surprised cracks in the Malinu's perfect marriage had begun to show. On November eighth, Blanche had given a revealing interview to the New York World. When the reporter asked about her and Roland's future, Blanche cryptically replied, quote the future. No matter what the future may be, nothing can repay me for all that I, an innocent woman, have suffered. When the verdict was announced, Blanche stayed in her hotel suite.

At the urging of one of Roland's lawyers, she reluctantly agreed to come to the Fort Greenhouse later that evening. As always, she put on a good show, dramatically rushing past General Molineux at the door as if she couldn't wait to see her husband. In reality, she would later write, she ran straight upstairs to her former bedroom and locked herself in without saying a word to any of the Molinews.

Early the next time morning, Blanche wrote a note to General Molineux, explaining that she could not go on and wishing him the best. She did not mention Roland, Placing her wedding ring on top of the letter, Blanche snuck out of the house. Roland Molineu would never see the woman he had allegedly killed over again. One week later, news broke that she was seeking a divorce. The divorce was finalized in September nineteen oh three. Two months later,

Blanche married her divorce lawyer, Wallace Scott. She tried to resume her singing career, but General Molineu, furious at her, used his connections to shut her down. After a tumultuous life in which she and Scott divorced and remarried several times, Blanche died in Minnesota on March twentieth, nineteen fifty four, at age eighty. Harry Cornish lived largely in anonymity after the Malinu trial. In nineteen oh eight, he married a

woman named Mary Waite. In July of that year, news broke that a body found floating off Coney Island had been identified as Cornish, but this turned out to be false. He would live another twenty nine years, eventually moving to Los Angeles and working as a mechanical engineer. Harry Cornish died on January eleventh, nineteen forty seven, aged eighty four.

Both Harry and Blanche outlived Roland Molineux. After his release from prison, Roland went to work as a chemist at his father's paint company and resumed his gymnastics practice, But while incarcerated he developed a new passion writing. In nineteen o three, he published The Room with the Little Door, a collection of writing he'd done while in the tombs and in Sing Sing's death House. Reviews were not great. The next year he published The Vice Admiral of the

Blue historical romance. Once again, his work found few fans. Undaunted, Roland turned to the age, writing a play called The Man Inside, which was eventually put on by the prominent theater producer David Belasco. Belasco's involvement, however, was not thanks to any merit on the play's part, but rather because he felt bad for Roland's parents, who had begged him

to produce the play. Pattie Molineux, Roland's mother, told Belasco, quote, if he is disappointed in this, on top of all the rest that he has suffered, we fear that he will die. If his play should be a success, it might open a new life to him. But by the time the play debuted two you guessed it poor reviews, it was too late for a new life for Roland. He was deep in the grips of the illness that would eventually kill him, syphilis. By nineteen twelve, Roland's behavior

had become erratic and frightening. His once immaculate grooming habits had disappeared. He was disheveled and unkempt. Despite these problems, Roland married again, this time to a woman named Margaret Cornell, who was twenty years his junior. But shortly after their marriage in the fall of nineteen thirteen, Roland's condition deteriorated further. His parents sent him to a sanitarium on Long Island. In September nineteen fourteen, he escaped from the sanitarium and

assaulted several men. He was charged with disorderly conduct. The next day, he was declared insane and committed to the State Hospital for the Insane. In January nineteen fifteen, his first child, a girl, was born, but Roland Molineu would never meet her. He died in the state hospital on November two, nineteen seventeen, aged fifty one. By this time both his parents were gone had he died on February fifth,

nineteen fourteen, aged seventy one or seventy two. General Edward Molineux, who had spent most of the last twenty years of his life fighting on his son's behalf, a battle which seemed to have aged him more than any he'd fought in in the Civil War. Died on June tenth, nineteen fifteen, age eighty one. Today, the Malnu name is most famous for the legal rule that emerged as a result of

Roland's appeal. I'll note here that the family pronounced their name Molineux, but the rule is known as the Malineaux rule. This rule concerns the admissibility of prior bad acts into evidence. As Judge William Warner noted in his opinion in Roland's case, the idea that evidence of other crimes should be inadmissible at trial was not a new one. There was extensive precedent in both English and American law. It existed before

the Malinu opinion, and it existed after. But where Judge Werner's opinion set precedent was into fining the circumstances in which prior bad acts could be admissible. These exceptions are now known by the acronym mimic for motive intent, mistake identity common scheme in New York. The rule that prior bad acts are in indisciple except for mimic cases. Is

known fittingly as the Molineaux rule. In practice, says former New York Supreme Court Justice Mark Dwyer, evidence of uncharged crimes is quote inadmissible to show that the defendant is of bad character or is disposed to commit crimes, but the evidence can be admitted if it helps prove an element of a charged offense, so long as the uncharged crimes are not unduly prejudicial. The Molina rule has made news recently in the case of film producer Harvey Weinstein.

At Weinstein's twenty twenty trial in New York for sexual assault and rape, a judge allowed several Molinau witnesses witnesses who testified to prior bad acts. Weinstein was ultimately found guilty of two felony sex crimes, but four years later, in April twenty twenty four, the New York Court of Appeals overturned Weinstein's conviction. In a fouri three ruling. The majority opinion argued that the Molina witnesses testimony had been

more prejudicial than probative. The opinion's author, Judge Jenny Rivera, calls the Malina rule quote a judicial bulwark against a guilty verdict based on supposition rather than proof. In a dissenting opinion, Judge Madeleine Singus argues that in sexual assault cases where prevailing societal attitudes about sexual assault may cause jurors to distrust victims, the additional testimony of Molina witnesses

may sometimes be necessary to overcome this inherent bias. Judge Rivera, in response rites quote, just as rape myths may impact the trier of facts, deliberative process, propensity, evidence has a bias inducing effect on jurors and tends to undermine the truth seeking function of trials. These opinions both point to questions of fairness. When is it unfair to defendants to allow prior bad acts into evidence, when is it unfair

to victims to exclude them. In Roland Malinew's case, it was clearly unfair to include the Barnett case while trying Roland for the murder of Catherine Adams. While it would be to my mind highly highly unlikely for Henry Barnett and Harry Cornish to have been sent poisoned by anyone other than their mutual rival, who just so happened to

be a chemist with a dangerous temper. It's also clear to me that the prosecution didn't have enough evidence to prove their case against Roland, especially for a capital offense. The prosecutors relied on evidence of a prior bad act to fill in the gaps in their case. Where will land in the future on the question of the admissibility of prior bad acts is unknown, But as Judge Stingus

points out quote, the Malino rule has never been static. Instead, its use has evolved over time to meet the challenges of complex criminal prosecution. In the meantime, I know one thing for sure. There are better ways to resolve disputes than poisoning your enemies. That's the story of New York v. Roland Molineu. Stay with me after the break for one more tale of a connection between a Malnu defense lawyer and a president. Not Richard Nixon this time, I promise.

Nineteen oh one was a very busy year for John Milburn. Besides arguing on Roland Molineu's behalf in the Court of Appeals in June, Milbourne was also the president of the Pan American Exposition, the nineteen oh one World's Fair, held in Buffalo. It was an enormous undertaking several years in the making. The Exposition's infrastructure occupied three hundred and fifty acres and cost approximately seven million dollars close to a quarter of a billion dollars today, more than eight million

visitors attended between May and November nineteen oh one. As President of the Exposition, John Milburn had the honor of hosting President William McKinley on his visit to the Fair on September three, a little more than a month before the appeals Court announced its decision in the Malnu case. McKinley arrived at Milburn's Buffalo mansion on the sixth. Milburn accompanied McKinley to a reception in the President's honor at

the Fairs Temple of Music. At four h seven p m. John Milburn was standing beside the President when a young man named Leon Shahgosh pulled out a revolver and shot McKinley twice. After McKinley was treated in a hospital, the

President returned to Milburn's house to recuperate. Unfortunately, as in the case of President James Garfield, infection introduced by a bullet lingering in the President's body began to spread on September fourteenth, nineteen oh one, in a bedroom in the house of one of Roland Malinu's lawyers, President William McKinley died. Thank you for listening to History on Trial. If you enjoyed this episode, please consider leaving a rating or review.

It can help new listeners find the show. My main sources for this episode were Harold Scheckter's book The Devil's Gentlemen, Privilege, Poison and The Trial That Ushered in the twentieth century, as well as newspaper coverage of the trial and the appellate opinion in People v. Molineux. For a complete bibliography, as well as a transcript of the episode with citations, please visit our website History on Trial podcast dot com. History on Trial is written and hosted by me Mira Hayward.

The show is edited and produced by Jesse Funk, with supervising producer Trevor Young and executive producers Dana Schwartz, Alexander Williams, Matt Frederick, and Mira Hayward. Learn more about the show at History on Trial podcast dot com and follow us on Instagram at History on Trial and on Twitter at Underscore History on Trial. Find more podcasts from iHeartRadio by visiting the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows.