Music Patience you silly savages. How do you do? This is Ty Brook. Has it ever occurred to you how the crime of murder takes the obscure and uninteresting and the hitherto unknown and suddenly shines upon it the likely tense and terrifying publicity? That can apply to both people and places. The combination of the power of the peace and threats can make even innocent details seem horrifyingly suspicious. The story we're going to tell you today is the story of a murder, but it's more than that, isn't it, Sir Ty? Oh yes, Sir Ty. The case of Harold Greenwood was, I think, unique in modern times. Really, was a man surrounded by such an atmosphere of guilt and yet despite all this... Now wait a minute, Percy. It doesn't tell too much of the story because, unlike some of the murder cases which we have discussed in this series, the story of Harold Greenwood has a surprise ending. We have called it the case of the family solicitor. The village of Tewesleigh lies about 12 miles beyond Camarton, a small town just in South Wales. It's quite a historical neighbourhood, a famous castle and many medieval relics. However, when in 1920 the name Tewesleigh was spoken about in every other household in Britain, it was not because of its historical significance. It was because of the strange and tragic happenings in Runsey House some 12 months before. Harold Greenwood was an elderly solicitor in Prattkiss in the town of Tewesleigh. His wife Mabel was liked and esteemed. He, together with her husband, had regular attendance at the local church. And together with their four children, two daughters and two sons ranging from 21 to 15, were among the most respected inhabitants of Tewesleigh. So it would seem on the surface. But beneath the surface you might have heard other voices. No matter what you say, I can't really like that Mr. Greenwood. Why? I can't tell you, but I just don't like him. Ah, do hear now. That Mr. Greenwood's cruel to his wife he is. Oh, I don't know for certain. But people talk, you know. Yet people talk. A fact of which Harold Greenwood is eventually to become only too well acquainted. In June 1919, the family household of the Greenwoods consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Greenwood, Irene, their elder daughter, and Kenneth, their younger son. The two other children were away at boarding schools. There was a staff of three, three women servants. For some considerable time, Mabel Greenwood's health had been unsatisfactory. A fact which was well known in the neighborhood. I wish you'd let me write to your brother and have a specialist down to examine you. I don't like worrying him. Oh, Noddy, something should be done about it. I'll write today. I'll do it right away. Right he did, but for some reason the letter was never posted. On Sunday the 14th of June, the Greenwood family spent a leisurely morning. At half past twelve, Hannah Williams, one of the maid servants, complained to the cook that Mr. Gardner was in her pantry and she could not get the silver to lay the table. But nevertheless, at one o'clock the luncheon was served. It consisted of hot joints, vegetables, good frittata, custard, and, oh, I almost forgot to mention, a bottle of verganse. The Harold, Harold. What is it, my dear? Oh, I don't know. I've got an awful pain. I feel so sick. Here, lift on my arm. Oh, I feel so terrible. Harold, stay with me. Yes, of course I will, dear. But we must get to our cabed. Hannah, Hannah, come at once. But is it Mr. Greenwood? It's Mrs. Greenwood. She's sick. Come and give me a hand to carry her upstairs. Come along at once. Mrs. Greenwood was taken upstairs to her bedroom. At seven o'clock her husband went across the road for a doctor's visit. He'd attended to Mrs. Greenwood before. Don't you worry, Mrs. Greenwood. I'm sure you're going to be all right. Oh, I hope so, Doctor. I'll bring you a bottle of medicine together with directions. I want you to do exactly as I say. Take good care and everything will be all right. Unfortunately, Doctor Gitties' optimism was not altogether justified. But Mrs. Greenwood had another visitor, a Miss Phillips. One of those nice, kind neighbors who always seems to be on hand at the crisis, particularly when there's a chance of a little news item for gossip. Miss Phillips was not as optimistic as the doctor. But her advisor, nurse for 10-4, Nurse Jones. It's very difficult having to come at such short notice, but still if the nurse doesn't match her, I suppose I'll have to come. She stayed with Mrs. Greenwood until fairly late, but then had to return home to put her children to bed. The nurse returned at ten o'clock, and from then onward Mrs. Greenwood grew steadily worse. By one a.m. the patient seemed to have realized the seriousness of her condition, if no one else did. I think I'm dying. I want to see my children first. Oh, please God let me see my children first. Well, I don't know. I suppose I'd better send for Mr. Greenwood. I've never seen a patient like this before. At 3.30 a.m. on Monday the 16th of June, Mrs. Greenwood died. Dr. Griffiths the following day certified the death as due to valvular disease of the heart. Music What in the name of goodness is all this commotion about? Why not June? I'm sorry to be dead so early, Victor. I think Mrs. Greenwood... What about Mrs. Greenwood? She's dead. Dead? Why, I was with her only the other day. She seemed in perfect health. I know, Victor. I can't understand it. You can never fix it so suddenly. What was the matter with her? I don't know, but if you ask me, I'd say there are some who could tell you. Some who could tell you quite a lot, if they had a mind to it. You're not trying to say that... I'm not saying anything, Victor, but I can't help thinking. In the days and the weeks that were to come, Nurse Jones could not help thinking. And she could not help talking, too. On Thursday the 19th of June, Mrs. Greenwood was buried in the somewhat congested churchyard at St. Mary's Church. Music For as much as it perhaps pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear sister here departed, and therefore commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I don't understand this. I never saw a case like that before. Did that Mr. Greenwood going around just as ever? Oh, it's too wondrous there's justice on this earth. I was talking to Nurse Jones the other day, and she was saying again how scandalous it is about that Mrs. Greenwood dying and no inquiry, nothing. I don't like to say anything, but I have heard tell that Mr. Greenwood is thinking of marrying again. The position of Mr. Harold Greenwood was uncomfortable in more ways than one. His wife enjoyed an annual income, but unfortunately this did not pass to him on her death. His solicitor's business was not sufficiently prosperous to maintain the considerable establishment at Rumsey House. Besides these financial worries, in a small village such as Quesley, it was impossible for him not to hear some of the rumors which were circulating. Remember too, this was soon after the First World War, a time of sudden death and hurried marrying. Remembering all these things, it was not surprising that when a Miss Gladys Jones, a woman of about thirty, came into Mr. Greenwood's life, it was not long before... My dear, I think you have known for some time my feelings for you, and therefore it cannot come as a surprise to you when I ask you to be my wife. But in marrying Miss Jones, Mr. Greenwood took another step towards the inevitable. He incurred the jealousy of a woman. You'll recall that a certain Dr. Griffiths, who lived just across the road from Rumsey House, had attended the first Mrs. Greenwood. Now Dr. Griffiths had a sister, a close friend of Greenwood's, and it was only on Tuesday, the very night before his wedding, that he told Miss Griffiths about it. This second marriage of Harold Greenwood gave rumor a new lease of life, and to add fuel to the fire, there was this jealousy of another woman, Miss Griffiths. No good, I just can't stand it. Seeing that Mr. Greenwood walking around with his second wife and the first one only six months buried, I'm going to the police. Well now Nurse Jones, what evidence have you to substantiate your suspicions? Well of course it is easy, but I've been nursing for fifteen years and I've never seen a case like Mrs. Greenwood. It all came over so sudden like it, then there was Mr. Greenwood. Oh, what about Mr. Greenwood? Well, there seems to be a bit. He visited in the talker tub during the poor lady's eyes, getting married again so soon. What else? Well, I talked to some of the servants, Hannah Williams now. She says that on the day that Mrs. Greenwood was taken ill, Mr. Greenwood was in the pantry and she was in the store. I think that's what other people think. But all the same, in view of the rumours circulating, I think we'd better make some inquiries. And so on the 24th of October, police officers visited Mr. Greenwood and took a long statement from him. I can assure you Superintendent, I am perfectly agreeable to giving you every help. I have certainly heard all these rumours and not only for my own sake, but for the memory of my first wife. I should like to get the whole matter cleared up. This statement formed the basis of a report to the Home Office. And finally in April 1920, the local coroner instructed that Mrs. Greenwood's remains should be exhumed for a post-mortem examination. Results of this examination were sent to Mr. Webster, official analyst of the Home Office. I have to report that I can discover no valvular disease or other natural cause to account for the death. However, I can posit the report that presence in all the organs examined was found in an amount of 18 milligrams of arsenic. For this time, the national newspapers have started to take an interest in the case. And only the day after the post-mortem, Mr. Greenwood, in an interview with the Daily Mail, said... I am the victim of village gossip, of village scandal, and if you know Welsh village life, you will know what that means. It all started from the fact that four months after my first wife's death I married again. That started the gossip. It is only fair to me to say that my first wife had suffered in health for at least two years before her death. Not only was her heart bad, but she also suffered from an internal disease. It was, however, from the heart attack that she died on June the 16th. No one, not even the doctor, thought that that attack would be fatal. The adjourning fest was opened the following month, the anniversary of the poor woman's death. A great deal of evidence was brought forward, 18 witnesses were examined, and in particular, evidence was produced concerning the purchase of arsenic. Medical opinion considered that it... The attack was in defiance, and the family of the visitor was in constant... So far this case has been handled entirely by the local police, but already a Scotland guard had a man on the spot. This officer reported to his superiors at the CID back in London that there was immense local bad feeling against Greenwood, and that was not the only trouble he found in Ferencly. One of the greatest difficulties I'm encountering is in connection with the evidence. So far I've taken statements from 12 witnesses, and over half of them have the same name, Jones. I'm in constant fear of getting the Joneses mixed up. Greenwood was arrested this morning, and I saw him at the station. Uh, tell me, inspector, what was the wording of the jury's findings? Mr. Greenwood, you might as well know it. It was this. We are unanimously of opinion that the death of the deceased, Mabel Greenwood, was caused by acute arsenic poisoning, as certified by Dr. Wilcock, and that the person was administered by Harold Greenwood. Oh dear, indeed. The following morning he was brought before the magistrate's office the next day, and formally charged with the willful murder of his wife. Considering the future events, it's rather a sad comment that a large crowd that has assembled outside Celeste Town Hall to watch his departure, booed him vigorously. We are happy for your death, Mr. Greenwood. Greenwood had to wait four and a half months for his trial at Carmarthen, Australia. There was intense interest in this trial, and the little town of Carmarthen was crammed to capacity by visitors, pressmen, and other concerned in the case. On certain sensational days, the eyes of the world were on this little town. As if the mysterious details of this case were not enough, there was the additional fact that briefed for the defense of Harold Greenwood was the greatest British advocate of the day, the Edward Marshall Hall. The trial opened on Tuesday, the 2nd of November, 1920. Please, your largest gentlemen of the jury, on the 16th of June, 1919, Mabel Greenwood, wife of the accused, died at Lundy House in Webbe at a quarter past three in the morning. On the 16th of June, 1920, at half past three in the afternoon, the accused, Harold Greenwood, was arrested and charged with willfully murdering her by administering arsenic to her. And it is on that charge he now stands appointed. This case is one which will come out with closest and most prolonged attention, not only because it is the greatest charge known to the law, but also because of the nature of the evidence on which you are asked to find the accused man guilty. The crime of administering poison is almost always a crime done in secrecy, and the evidence in regard to it is as a rule, indirect evidence, and not the evidence of eyewitnesses. So it is in this case. Counsel for the prosecution then began to outline the various events centric around those dates, the 15th and 16th of June, a year before, leading up to that memorable Sunday meal. The lunch consisted of roast beef, gooseberry, chard, and custard, and it was laid by the parliament, Hannah Williams. When it was necessary for her to lay the luncheon, she required a silver basket in order to put out spoons and forks, et cetera. When she got to the pantry, she saw that the accused was there. He remained there for about a quarter of an hour, and during that time she waited. She saw him go into the pantry, into the dining room. When Hannah Williams went to the cupboard in the dining room, she found what she thought was a bottle of wine with a red label. She noticed in particular that it was not a full bottle, but that some wine had been taken out, and therefore presumably somebody had drunk some of the wine or had emptied some of it out. She placed the bottle of wine before Mrs. Greenwood speaked at the dining table. She was present in the dining room during the luncheon up to the time the sweets were eaten, and she will tell you that she, in fact, poured the wine from the bottle into Mrs. Greenwood's glass and that Mrs. Greenwood drank it. At supper time, the wine bottle had gone. A masterly moment of the trial was Sir Edward Marshall Hall's cross-examination of Hannah Williams, who, you'll remember, was one of the servants. Did you tell the police that it was a bottle of port wine you put on the table for dinner on the 15th of June, and that it had on it a red label and a black print, and that you read on it the word port? No. Let you swear? Yes. I suggest to you that it was labeled port. Oh no, it was port wine. Do you suggest that Mrs. Greenwood was in the habit of drinking port wine? Oh no, sir. What did she drink? Burgundy, but port wine was there on a Sunday. I know you have said so. Do you know that bourne is burgundy? No, sir. What did you do after laying the table? I saundered the gong when Mr. Greenwood came in. Did Greenwood come in from the garden before you put the dinner on the table? He came in before I laid the table. I had to wait until he came out of the china pantry before going into bed to silver. I was not supposed to go into the room when he was there. Do you mean to say that you had never seen Greenwood in the china pantry before? I've never seen him. I put it to you that almost every Sunday when he was at home or after each time he was in the garden, he did go in there to wash his hands at the sink. No. Hundreds of times. Oh no, sir. He used to go upstairs to wash his hands. Do you mean to say that you never saw Mr. Greenwood wash his hands at the sink in the china pantry? Oh no, sir. It was a long way right up to the bathroom, wasn't it not? Not that long. Are you telling us the truth? I've told you to tell the truth. Mr. Greenwood is here on his life. Do you swear it was an unusual thing for him to go to the china pantry? You were getting rather excited just now and shouted at the witness. I have to see that the witnesses are not addressed in a vehement way. Why not? Because it confuses them. Why, it is my duty to be vehement. Another vital moment was the cross-examination of Nurse Jones. When you got to the house at eight o'clock, had she got to bed then? I want you to be very careful over that. No. When you left at nine o'clock, you were satisfied that she was not in a dangerous condition then? You would not have left her if you thought she was in a dangerous condition. I had to. Did you not say at the police court, I made the patient comfortable before I left at nine o'clock, I was obliged to go home? It was not a voluntary statement and it is obviously in answer to a question. She has already said that if she knew the patient was in a dangerous condition, she would not have gone. Would you have left the patient if you had known? I have an aged father and a child of five to look after also. Miss Irene was there and Miss Phillips was there. If you had thought Mrs. Greenwood was really dangerously ill, would you have left? I had to leave. Well, I have to take your answer. Did Mrs. Greenwood say that the medicine caught her at the back of the throat? Mr. Greenwood told me so. Did Mr. Greenwood make a complaint to you? Mr. Greenwood said to me, nurse, Mrs. Greenwood complains that the medicine caught her at the back of the throat. Did you taste the medicine yourself? Yes, it had no effect on me. What quantity was the dose? Two teaspoons. It was soon after ten o'clock that I gave Mrs. Greenwood the second dose. I was not asking her. You must not pitch into this witness because she won't say exactly what you want her to say. All I am thinking is that if I raise my voice, he will raise hers. I am not pitching into her. I rather wish a lot if I'd not used those words. I am dealing with the witnesses in a perfectly fair way. I am sure you are, but don't pitch into me now. I can trust you, Sir Edward, and you can trust me. One of the most telling witnesses for the defense was Irene Greenwood, the eldest daughter of the Greenwood family. She gave evidence that she too had drunk from the same bottle of Burgundy at lunch. Sir Edward's examination was complete, and after reviewing the whole evidence, he closed the defense in classic Russian. You must be satisfied that one of those scales, the scale for prosecution, has fallen. Before you can be satisfied that this man is guilty, I ask you to remember the scene in Othello where the jealous Moor made up his mind to kill Desdemona. Othello enters Desdemona's chamber, makes up his mind to kill her relentlessly, for he believes her to be unfaithful. And seeing her lying there, he thinks of the effect of killing her as compared with putting out her light. And he says, put out the light. And then he puts out the light. If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, should I repent me. But once put out thy light, thou cunning pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat that can thy light renew. Are you by your verdict going to put out that light? Gentlemen of the jury, I demand at your hands the life and liberty of Harold Greenwood. And so Sir Edward Marshall Hall summed up his defense to the jury. The jury retired for some three hours and came back with a verdict of not guilty. It was not until afterwards that it was pointed out that while returning a verdict of not guilty, the jury had passed a paper containing a fuller statement to the judge running as follows. We are satisfied on the evidence in this case that a dangerous dose of arsenic was administered to Mabel Greenwood on Sunday the 15th of June, 1919. But we are not satisfied that this was the immediate cause of death. The evidence before us is insufficient and does not conclusively satisfy us as to how and by whom the arsenic was administered. We therefore return a verdict of not guilty. Well, that was the case of Harold Greenwood. He was found innocent, but as Sir Edward Marshall Hall had pointed out, his life and career had been ruined. I got it. Eight years and two months from his sensational trial, a brief paragraph in a few daily journals announced the death on the 17th of January, 1929, at a little-known hermitage village of a man of 54, who, dogged by poverty, notoriety, and ill health, had lived there under the name of Pilkington. Harold Greenwood, whose name was once on everybody's lips, had made his last bow and exit from a world that had offered him little and deprived him of much. You note, Fife, that this is one of the rare cases in this present series where we have told the story of someone who was found not guilty. All the same, Scotland Yard is the servant of justice and not its master. Their job is to produce the evidence, and if on the basis of that evidence the prisoner is found not guilty, then justice has been done and the yard is satisfied. And in the case of the family solicitor, just as I think was done. Don't you agree? You can ask friends 277,IANS.com.
