A chain of circumstantial evidence
wrapped itself around the old man, who made no real effort to explain or
defend himself. Justice was swift. His trial a few months later lasted
for a few days. The prosecution established that he had visited the home
of his daughter-in-law on the evening of the murder, and that he had
been in a rage over a dispute that had arisen between them concerning
the loss of some milk.
The evidence included the testimony of the
defendant's 17-year-old daughter, who said that her father was drunk on
the day of the murder and was railing against Dora, calling her "the low
livedest thing around."
Early the next morning after the murder, it was
demonstrated that Heilwagner shared news of his daughter-in-law's death
before anyone else knew she was dead. The exhibits included the
defleshed skull of the victim, a not uncommon evidentiary practice at
the time.
The defense attorney repeatedly
pointed to the lack of direct evidence, the lack of witnesses to prove
the state's theory, to no avail. The trial resulted in a conviction and
death sentence. A higher court examined the proceedings for flaws, found
none, and rendered its approval.
Enter Charles Edward Russell.
At
the time, he was a reporter for Joseph Pulitzer's New York World and was
well on his way to becoming one of the most famous reporters of his day.
(Later in his life, Russell would put the "ism" in journalism, focusing
his prodigious talents on muckraking and exposing the shameful class
divisions in American society; among his many accomplishments, he earned
a Pulitzer Prize and co-founded the NAACP.)
Russell, a native of Davenport,
decided to dig into the case. He went to the jail where Heilwagner was
being housed and tried to interview the old man, looking for an
exclusive, some break in the case, something to explain some nagging
doubts about the evidence. But all the reporter could elicit from the
condemned was, "I just go weed my onions."
Heilwagner refused to
cooperate with any effort to save him. He refused to be visited by a
minister. He was unrepentant, uncommunicative. Russell and all others
associated with the case became convinced that the correct result was
reached, and that Heilwagner was guilty.
The old man was hanged at Rock
Island, Illinois, in March, 1882, before a group consisting largely of
reporters. His last words: "Gentlemen, I am innocent of this crime."
Nobody believed him.
Ten years passed.
Then, in a lodging house in Quincy,
Illinois, another man, a wretched, tortured soul, sat down and wrote a
long and detailed confession to the crime for which William Heilwagner
had been hanged, a confession to the murder of Dora Heilwagner, an
explanation that she was murdered because she was an adulteress. He left
the note in his room, then took himself to a nearby bridge, threw
himself into the water, and drowned.
The suicide was Otto
Heilwagner--the old man's son--husband of the victim. The man that old
William Heilwagner sacrificed himself to save.
Needless to say, Russell and many
other people were horrified by this twist in the tale. Russell heaped
blame upon himself for the execution of an innocent: "If I had been
expert at my trade I might have saved that man." He came to firmly
oppose the death penalty because of the risk of executing people who
were not guilty. "The chance is too terrible," he wrote many years later.
"We take it in one case in ten when we condemn men to death. Shall we
keep taking it?"
Many good-hearted people came to
agree with Russell's anti-death-penalty stance. And some very wicked
people as well.
Sources:
"Rock Island. The Murder Trial. Wm.
Heilwagner Tried for the Murder of Dora Heilweigner on the Night of the
6th of September Last--The Testimony of the Prisoner's Daughter,"
Davenport Weekly Gazette, Jan. 25, 1882.
"Once When the Wrong Man Was Hanged,"
The Davenport Democrat and Leader, Dec. 10, 1928.
The Pen is Mightier: The Muckraking
Life of Charles Edward Russell, by Robert Miraldi (Palgrave MacMillan,
2003) - an excellent biography of a fascinating man.
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