James Farrell was born in Ireland around 1830 and served in the local police before emigrating to Australia. He served in Victoria as a policeman before being recruited, along with many of his colleagues, by St John Branigan to police the Otago goldfields.
In 1863 he married Bridget Megley, also known as Delia. Seven years after the wedding, things were seriously wrong with the relationship.
ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF DETECTIVE FARRELL.
Great excitement was caused throughout Dunedin late on Saturday night and yesterday by the news that Detective Farrell had been fired at and wounded.
It appears that between a quarter-past and half-past 11 on Saturday night, Detective Farrell parted company with Special Constable Bain at the corner of Moray place, and proceeded homewards. His house is one of three cottages in a yard adjoining Brodrick's coal-yard. These cottages are situate to the rear of a fourth one, with willow trees in front, that faces Moray Place. While walking along the pavement on the side of Moray Place on which Mr Matthews's garden is situate, he heard footsteps of a person coming (he thought) from the passage alongside the Masonic Hall. Afterwards they were those of a person approaching him rapidly. Mr Farrell at the time carried a small bag, containing potatoes and some other purchases, in his hand. As he thought the footsteps were those of one coming on tiptoe he was apprehensive of receiving a blow from behind, and accordingly grasped the "neddy" he carried, so that he could use it. The spot was in keeping with the deadly assault attempted. Saturday night was very dark, and we believe this place was particularly dark. Detective Farrell turned round just as the man was a couple of feet behind him. He saw the man, who, he is positive is ex-sergeant Ryan, pointing a pistol at his head. The man fired, but fortunately missed him. In fact, he considers that it was through his so sharply turning round, and so putting his head out of the line of fire, that his brains were not then blown out. Farrell exclaimed, "For Gods sake, Ryan, don't kill me, I'm not prepared to die." Farrell got a few feet away from his assailant, and being too far from hun to hit him with the weighty stick which he carries shied it at his face, but he thinks his pursuer shielded the blow from his face by his hands, which he had lifted up. Farrell, on throwing the stick, turned and ran shouting, "Ex-Sergeant Ryan wants to murder me." His pursuer followed, and fired two more shots, each of which also missed him. Farrell was afraid to run into his own yard, thinking he would be followed in and shot, and made for a right-of-way near Claremont House, where the fourth shot — the one that caused the wound — was fired. The bullet entered his back, striking the shoulder blade, worked its way to the front of the body, travelled across the breast and then passed out. The bullet that wounded him has not been found. It was reported that one of the bullets had been picked up. Immediately after the shots were fired several of the neighbours were out, and we believe that at least the latter end of the firing was witnessed by a man and a boy. Drs Hoeken and Reimer promptly attended Mr Farrell. The wound, though severe, we are glad to say is not dangerous. A neighbour of Mr Farrell's heard the shots fired, and the cries, on his way home. When passing along Moray Place, he saw or heard a man scrambling up the bank, and getting on the footpath, between Messrs Park and Curie's workshop and a building standing on piles. He asked the man "What was up?" and the reply was to the effect — "I think somebody is shot. I believe it is Farrell.'' The man went in the direction of the Glasgow Arms. Ex-Sergt. Ryan, at least an hour after the occurrence, came to the European Hotel, where he was boarding; "The words he used here were — it is reported — "I hear the police have been enquiring for me, and would some one be kind enough to accompany me to the station?" Mr Keligher accordingly accompanied him towards the Maclaggan street Station — it was then 1.20 a.m. — they were, met by Sub-Inspector Mallard, Sergeant Fair, and Constable Bain. Fearing that fire-arms might be used, Sergeant Fair and Constable Bain at once pinioned Ryan, while the sub-Inspector searched him. No fire-arms were found upon him. Ryan, on the Sub-Inspector saying "I fear I shall have to detain you," answered that he was on his way to the station. He was cool and collected in manner. At the station, on being charged with shooting with intent to kill; he remarked, That is a pretty charge, certainly." He was then locked-up, and on Sunday was removed, for safe custody, from the lock-up to the gaol. He is to be brought up at the Mayor's Court this morning. It is alleged that there is "motive" on his part. This is scarcely the, place in which to state the motive assigned, which will almost inevitably come out during the hearing of the charge. We have not ascertained what the nature of his defence is to be, but it was generally said that he intends to prove an alibi. -Otago Daily Times, 6/1/1873.
Wednesday, 5th February.
Evidence for the prosecution was taken as follows : —
Dr Hocken, who attended Detective Farrell soon after he was wounded: I found him in a very collapsed condition. I examined the wound. There were two apertures, one by which the bullet had entered, and the other that by which it made its exit. The aperture of entrance was perfectly circular and regular, and was situate about a couple of inches inside of the left shoulder blade, towards the spine. The aperture by which the bullet made its exit was circular, but rather ragged, and a trifle larger than the other, and was situate on the right side of the lower part of the neck. Detective Farrell was in such a collapsed state that I thought first he was wounded through the lungs, but, on examination, I found he was not so. After probing the wound, I found it was not an immediately dangerous one, and I dressed it and left him for the night. I saw him again next day, when I examined the wound more minutely, and found that the diameter of the aperture by which the bullet entered was 5/16 of an inch. It was evident from the appearance of the wound that the bullet must have entered the flesh in a direction slanting towards the spine. I continued to attend Detective Farrell for seven or eight days, and till he was quite out of danger. Some bullets have been shown me by Sub-Inspector Mallard, and I selected one, which I measured. The one which I measured would have caused such an aperture as that which I saw in Detective Farrell's shoulder, and by which the bullet entered. The bullet now produced is the one which Sub-Inspector Mallard showed to me,
By Mr Barton: I was shown bullets of, I think, three sizes, by the Police, and I selected one of the size that, I considered, likely caused the wound. I don't swear that it was a bullet of the shape of the one produced that caused the wound, it may have been spherical or cylindrical, but it had the same diameter. I gauged the diameter of the entrance wound with a measure which I have; I measured the entrance wound about twelve hours and a half after I had seen Farrell on the previous night. The wound would not have undergone any change in size during the time that would affect any measurement. The bullet met no bone to turn its course? — I suspect it did meet a bone to turn its course. Would you be good enough to give us the most learned name of that bone, doctor ? — I believe it was turned by the spinous process of one of the vertebrae.
By the Bench: I do not believe that the wound could be self-inflicted.
Joseph Daniels, who refused to be sworn from conscientious motives, and who made an affirmation: I keep the Nevada Restaurant at the corner of Stuart street and Moray Place. I heard four pistol shots on the night of the 4th January. I was sitting in my house when I heard a noise which I did not first distinguish as a pistol shot. After a pause of a few seconds I heard another noise, which I distinguished to be a pistol shot. I rose up and went to the door. I had just placed my hands on the door when I heard screams of "murder!" I went outside, and not recognizing from what direction the screams came, I looked about me. I got as far as the lamppost at the corner of Moray Place and Stuart street when I saw the flash and heard the report of a shot, followed immediately by another, making four in all. These two last shots were fired just near Claremont House — under the brow of the hill. I could not see the exact spot where they were fired, as it was so dark. I immediately rushed across the road and ran along the pathway. Just as I got opposite Albion House I met a person without a hat. It was Detective Farrell. I did not recognize him until I asked him "What is the matter?" He replied "I'm shot." I then recognised him as Detective Farrell by the light of the windows of Albion House. I asked him "Who shot you?" He replied, "Ryan" I asked him "What Ryan?" and he said "Ryan of the European Hotel." He then said "Let us come down to the house." We passed down the right-of-way to Farrell's house. While we were in the right-of-way Farrell called out the name of some person — it seemed like "Tommy," or "Annie," to me. He also called out for lights, and shouted "Is any of the boys there?" We arrived at the house, where we found three or four people round, the door. I do not know who they were. I passed him to Mrs Farrell. Three or four others went into the house at the same time as he did. I believe I was the first to arrive after Farrell was shot, as I did not see or hear anybody else there.
By Mr Barton: The night was dark, and it appeared very dark to me, as I had just come out of the light. I have spoken to Ennis outside the Court. He asked me if I saw his evidence, and I said I had not taken particular notice of it. Neither I had. I had only skimmed over the report without looking at the witnesses' names. I can't tell why he asked me this question, and I did not ask him why he did. It was just an ordinary remark. I did not see or hear anyone rush into Farrell's arms while Farrell was going down the right-of-way. Farrell walked in advance of me. If Ennis met Farrell in the right-of-way, said something to him, received, a reply, and assisted him to walk to his house, I would have observed him. But I saw no such thing. Three or four persons spoke to Farrell when he was about four feet from his own door. I entered the house with Farrell. There was a female standing at the door, with a light in her hand. Farrell was quite cool, calm, and collected. I met Farrell in Moray place, within a few feet of the gate of Albion House, about 25 seconds after the last report, and I accompanied him from there to his own house. I saw no one meet or speak to him until we arrived within him a few feet of his door. He walked into the house by himself, unsupported.
William Carey, warder in H.M. Gaol, Dunedin: I live at the corner of Cumberland street and Stuart street. On the night of the 4th of January last, I heard three shots fired while in bed. I sprang out of bed, struck a match, partly dressed myself, and ran in the direction whence the reports came. While dressing myself I looked at my watch, and saw the time to be 20 minutes past eleven. I heard some person shouting out "murder." I recognised the voice as Detective Farrell's. I then ran over to Detective Farrell's house. On entering the house, I saw Detective Farrell. I asked him what had happened, and he replied, "Ryan, of the European, has shot me." He added, "Ex-Sergeant Ryan." I asked him where he was hit, and he told me in the back. I put my hand on his back, and felt where the bullet had entered. I asked him if any one had gone for the doctor. He said "Yes." He then said, "You had better let Mallard know." I left the house, proceeded up to Princes street, and met two policemen at the Glasgow Arms, told them what had occurred, and then went to Dr Hocken, who came along with me to Farrell's.
By Mr Barton: The night was hazy, and darker than usual
Frederick Mallard, acting Sub-Inspector of Police, stationed at Dunedin: I arrested the prisoner at twenty minutes past one on the morning of the 5th ult., near to Reith and Wilkie's, Princes street. Mr Keligher, an ex-sergeant of police, who keeps the European Hotel, and Dr Reimer, were with the accused. I told accused I should have to detain him, and immediately searched him in the street for firearms and ammunition, but found neither on him. Prisoner said he was on his way to the Station to see me about the matter. I conveyed him to the Station and formally charged him with shooting Detective Farrell, with intent to kill. After reading the charge over, he remarked, "That's a pretty charge, certainly." I then searched him thoroughly; the object of my searching him in the street was merely for firearms. I found upon him — cash £8 1s, a gold watch, a gold locket, a gold pin, a pair of gloves, a pencil, a box of cachous, a piece of quartz, a watch key, a gold ring, a diamond finger ring (which latter he had on his finger), and a pocket handkerchief. I then proceeded to the European Hotel. I had been there previously to arresting prisoner, and had locked his room. On my return to the Hotel after the arrest, I carefully searched the room. Among the things in the room was the box produced. I could not find the key of the box either upon him or in his room, so I was obliged to break it open. In that box I found eight rounds of large sized revolver ammunition, nine rounds of medium, size, and some rifle ammunition ; one pistol powder flask; a box, not quite full, containing revolver caps, two boxes of sporting percussion caps, and one common powder flask also containing powder. There were also a rifle screw-wrench, and 21 letters in a lady's handwriting, and signed "Deliah." I also found in the box one gold locket now produced. There is a portrait in that locket. The portrait is that of Mrs Farrell, and there is also a lock of hair in the locket, but I cannot speak as to that. [All the articles mentioned and the letters were produced.] The letters are those which were shown in Court yesterday. I showed to Dr Reimer and Dr Hocken separately on the 9th or 10th January, the ammunition which I had found in the prisoner's chest. Each selected a cartridge from that ammunition. I have heard them identify, by remarks they made, the cartridges they picked out, and I swear that the cartridges which they picked out were found by me in the prisoner's box. I took possession of the clothes which prisoner wore when arrested. I now produce them. I also produce the coat, vest, and shirts which Detective Farrell wore when shot.
By Mr Barton: When I met the prisoner in Princes street, he told me he was on his way to the Station to see me "about it." He was walking with Mr Keligher and Dr Reimer in the direction of the Station, and I have no reason to doubt that the statement he made to me was true. I did not ask him for the key of the box which I broke open, when I searched him. Not having the key on him, or in the room, I broke the box open. I had previously asked the proprietor of the hotel for the key, but could not get it. On the morning following the night on which I arrested him and broke open his box, I asked him what he had done with the key of this box. He told me that I should not have it; that he would not give it to me; and that I had no right to have it. These caps (those found in Ryan's box) are apparently very old, and seem to have been in some one's possession for a long time. They are not the regulation caps used in the police force here; I can't say that caps similar to these were used in Southland, or in the revenue force in Ireland. I have heard that accused has been in the revenue force in Ireland. The apparent age of the caps might be accounted for by exposure to the weather. The caps comprising the other lot look much newer; they are not revolver caps; they are sporting caps. These caps may have been used by the Southland police on carbines. The powder flask produced is battered, and appears to be pretty old. The pistol powder flask is a little mildewed, perhaps from being long in the box. It is hard to say whether it has been used or not; but there is one thing certain, and that is that it is pretty full. I don't consider it at all strange that a powder flask should be found in the box of an ex-policeman. I have one in my own box. and if I left the force to-morrow, I would take it with me, it being my private property. Taking that lot of flasks and ammunition altogether as it stands, is it not just what you would expect to find in the box of an ex-sergeant of Police? — Yes; but I don't find a revolver there. Would you not deliver up your revolver on leaving? — Yes. Would you give up the lot of other things? — Yes, if they belonged to the Government, as I would be doing wrong in keeping them. [Mr Barton: But you know people are not so particular to trifles.] The flask in my box now is my private property. Sergeant Ryan too might have had a flask that was his private property, and I would expect him to have it notwithstanding that he delivered up his revolver and rifle on leaving the force. I also found in prisoner's room £20 in cash, a deposit receipt on the Bank of New Zealand for £250, and a gold watch.
By Mr Haggitt: Caps are not served out to the police in boxes. If this is Government ammunition, I am quite at a loss as to how so large a quantity came into the hands of any one individual. I think it singular that that powder-flask and powder should be there, and no revolver.
Mr Barton, in the course of some questions which he asked the witness, said that he (the witness) might also think it singular there was rifle ammunition there and no rifle.
Albert Byford, gate-keeper on the Dunedin and Port Chalmers Railway, stationed at the Stuart street jetty: I know the prisoner by sight. I remember seeing him in the neighbourhood of Stuart street jetty in the month of January, two clear days prior to the assault. I saw him coming down from the direction of the Railway Station to the jetty. He went down the jetty about a distance of a couple of chains, stopped for about a minute, and looked in the direction of the Water of Leith, and along Castle street. He then turned up the jetty, passed down Castle street as far as the second telegraph post, and there halted. He looked down Castle street again for about two or three minutes. He then came back to Stuart street, walked as far as Fenwick and McVicker's store, at the corner of Castle street and Stuart street, and fronting the Gaol. He stopped there and lighted a cigar. He then walked to the corner of Moray Place, and came to a standstill there. I saw him there for a minute or so. He was looking in the direction of Claremont House. I then lost sight of him.
By Mr Barton: I took particular notice of ex-Sergeant Ryan that day, as I nodded to him and he did not return the compliment. I can't say that he did not notice me through being abstracted, or that he was watching in that locality for any one.
This was the case for the Crown.
The accused was then formally cautioned, and reserved his defence. Mr Barton applied for bail. Mr Haggitt objected. Mr Barton stated it was a serious thing far a man to be kept so long in prison, and to be prevented from properly preparing his defence. Mr Barton then intimated that he had just made up his mind not to call any witnesses. He had a case for the defence, but he deemed it inadvisable to open it in this Court. He then repeated his application to have the accused admitted to bail.
Mr Haggitt again objected.
His Worship, while recognising the inconvenience to which accused would be subjected by not being admitted to bail, also took into consideration the serious nature of the charge. He would give a definite answer on the question of admitting accused to bail next morning.
Prisoner was then committed for trial at the ensuing criminal sittings of the Supreme Court. -Otago Witness, 8/2/1873.
THE DUNEDIN SHOOTING CASE.
The recent shooting case at Dunedin is still fresh in the minds of cur readers. The alleged perpetrator of the outrage, Thomas Ryan, was brought up on the 7th instant, before Sir Justice Chapman, and charged with intent to kill James Farrell, detective officer. The accused pleaded not guilty. Mr B. C. Haggitt prosecuted for the Crown, and Mr Barton defended the accused. As the case proceeded it was discovered that an illicit attachment existed, and had existed for some time between the prisoner and the wife of his intended victim. Many letters were read in court showing that on the woman's side, at all events, the passion was intense and all powerful. The intercourse existed undiscovered for a time, but the husband becoming suspicious, Ryan removed from Dunedin up country. Letters passed, but the husband with a detective's instinct, sent a forged telegram to Ryan, purporting to come from Mrs Farrell. This telegram produced a letter from Ryan, which Farrell intercepted, and thus found out the secret. In the letter thus obtained the following passages occur: —
"My Delia, I was greatly surprised at getting a note from F., telling me that you had left for town; but about midday my mind told me that something was to happen, as I felt quite uneasy, but although fate has been kind to us in affording us the unbounded pleasure of meeting — even as we did — still I thought fate was cruel in taking you away from me so unexpectedly. Oh pettie, when will we meet again. I must exclaim — O God! save my darling until I see her once more.
"For I am sad at heart; yes, my soul is troubled at the thought of living separately from the only object of my affection — do not think me careless, my dear Delia. I confess I cannot write. My mind is confused at the idea of losing sight of you."
* * * *
"Pettie, you never said anything about your health, or if you intend to use the medicine. You must, my little girl, like a good pettie; and I will willingly pay for it, for I am sure it will make my Delia big and strong. Farewell at last.
"Good night, my pettie, and believe me to be, yours, most lovingly, Dudo."
"Do write soon." (Received Feb., 16th, 1872. J. Farrell, Detective.)
That letter is the only one from the prisoner produced, as the recipient of them fearing detection always destroyed the tender epistles. Ryan preserved all or most all he received, the parcel being discovered in his box on examination. One of the earliest date runs as follows: —
"Moray Place, August 24th.
"Dear Tom, — I hope I have given you time to get all your work done. The last time I wrote you were so, so busy that you could scarcely find time to answer it, so I thought I would not trouble you again in a hurry. However, as you were happy I could not complain. I know that collecting the emigration money is not the least pleasant part of your duty. Still, I think you would be glad to hear from me I have been nearly all time ill in bed, so you can fancy the pleasant time I had of it. I have a very bad cold, and severe coughing all night, which is really distressing. Still, as I lay awake all night, I had some happy thoughts of days gone bye, which I fear will never come back. I often think how bright your lot might be if you had never met me; but it is my fate. I want you to think tenderly of me whatever troubles I have brought to you, and the pains I have give you all along. Pray for me, and forgive me. All my life has been a sad one, and I want pity from you. Delia.
''October 1st
"My Darling Tom — I hope you got my last letter all right. I am still at a 1oss to how to get to address one for me. I wish, pettie, you were home, so as that I would not be bothered like this. Oh, darling! if only to see you once a week, it would in some way compensate me. Oh, duck, you have not the slightest idea how glad I would be to see you.
"I saw a man last week who in some ways resembled you. Oh, how my heart beat at the first sight of him. I wish you would, would come; only to see you once, and I would only ask one little kiss. Oh, I would promise to be such a good girl, and not scold you for anything you would say or do if you would only come home again. Only fancy, duck, the long, long time since I saw you.
"Oh, my own duck, won't you let me kiss — oh, such a lot of times — when you come. You said you would always love me, duck.
"There is a grand skeme on foot. If I could carry it out it would at least throw us together for some months, perhaps longer. He wants me to go home in the summer — that is, if he could afford it —for the good of health, for I am far from well.
" If that could be, I would have you come down and lay up sick, and get compensation, and go away to America, as it were to your sisters, but wait for me in Melbourne. Oh, pettie, if you could manage that we would be at least happy for some time.
"If I could get Nan home by the wool ships I would be able to follow you in a few months. I wish you were down; but when you come it will be for good. We cannot live like this always. When we get to London I could make excuses for remaining there for a long time, under the pretence of bad health, and we could be together all the time. It would be like heaven and to be there none would watch us.
Delia
* * * * *
Moray Place, Friday evening.
"My Darling — You will think that I am never going to you. First I must tell you that I got what you left all right, and tell you how grateful I am for your many acts of kindness to me. I also received your letter right, and was glad you were as happy as can be expected under the circumstances. I cannot tell you how miserable I have been since you left. You know that I am alone every night until twelve, so you may fancy how happy I am; not a sole to speak to night after night like that. I think sometimes I will soon be mad. Oh pettie, why is the world so cruel to us? The meeting was like a glimpse into Paradise, and then the doors suddenly closed, to shut out from me all that was beautiful.
"Oh but never mind, love, we will find the key some day that will open all that is bright and happy. Something tells me it will be so.
"Pettie, that word in your letter (striving) to love me sounds painful. Do not make use of it again. I know it was not meant to hurt me, but I do not like the word.
"For your love is all in this world I live for. I believe I would have been dead long ago but for it. Oh darling, it is the silver border of all my dark clouds. Oh my own dear pet, it is the only ray of sunshine that brightens all my misery. Do not write to me again until I write to you, for I do not like to be under a compt. to her. I will always write to you. Be sure and burn this. For ever.
"Yours. Delia
PS The lines is in morn. for a day or so I am taking the balsom, and feel well."
" Moray Place, Thursday, 24th.
"Dear Tom, — I can hardly think you have received my two last letters; that is if what I heard last night was true, that is that you have refused to come to town, and even give up your stripes to stay. I will not believe such a proceeding until I hear it from your own lips. I am really at a loss to know what you mean. I thought it would be the greatest pleasure you could ere enjoy is to come to town. But now that you will not come. I do not know what you mean, if it is not what I wrote made you change your mind. That is only consolation I have, oh, my darling love. Or is it that you have changed towards me. If so, it was one of the flirtings of heart to ask you if ever you did not love me to tell of it. Oh, Tom, my pet, my duck, will you not explain all to me? If the world would mind its own business, and I had plenty of funds, I would go up and see you, as the lord has gone to Southland to-day, so that if you will write to me directly you receive this I will have it before he comes back. You know how to direct it to the old place, to your little pettie for ever.
"Oh, it is nearly a week since I heard you were coming down, and I was watching for him every night, thinking you would be with him until last night Stumps told him, in great triumph, you were not to come. Of course he was glad too, as he was glad to-day. Oh! pettie, I thought you were mad to refuse to come. I never met such a disappointment in all my life. Oh! tell me all, my darling love, and do not keep me miserable. You know not what a state I am in about it. Oh, duck, you were all the world to me, pettie. I never went out scarcely since, only think of your love, thinking that you would be so pleased when you would come clown to hear that I was a good girl.
"F. is gone to Southland about something or other, Dearest. Morey Place for me."
Sunday Evening.
"My Dear Tom, — All is discovered. He called at the Post Office and got the letter. What ever possessed you to write, after I telling not to? First he searched my bag, and found your likeness, but I warded that off, and said that I stole it from Mrs Gilligan's sister. That made him suspicious, and he went to P. Office, and found the crowning of all your acts. I told you not to write, but you would do it. Nan is better. I was obliged to sit in the room before her, and hear the letter read to my face. He will never forgive me this time. I will never have the chance to see you again. I have not time to write more. Never write again, on no account. You will get the valentine from Mrs J. Nan is sorry for him finding us out. With rending love, I am, yours.
"Delia."
"If I get the chance, I will write again. O! my pettie." -Wanganui Herald, 19/4/1873.
Supreme Court.
Criminal Sittings.
(Taken from 'Daily Times' Report/)
Monday, April 7th.
(Before His Honor Mr Justice Chapman.)
ADDRESS TO THE GRAND JURY.
His Honor said: Mr Foreman and Gentleman of the Grand Jury — The number of prisoners for trial this sittings is eight, which is a little in excess of what we have been accustomed to of late, and I am sorry to say there are one or two grave charges. At present, there are only five entered on the calendar, and as to the other three I have not had an opportunity of seeing the depositions; but they are cases of the ordinary nature — crimes against property — and it is quite unnecessary that I should trouble you with any observations upon them. The first case that will be taken is that of Thomas Ryan, an ex-police sergeant, who is charged with firing a pistol at Detective Farrell with intent to murder him. The stress of the case before the Petty Jury will no doubt be the identity of the prisoner; but the evidence of Detective Farrell himself — for he swears to the identity of the prisoner — will be quite sufficient to justify the Grand Jury in finding a bill, leaving anything that can be urged in the prisoner's defence; anything that can be elicited in the cross-examina-tion, to the determination of the Petty Jury alone. The circumstances of the case, however, are simple. Detective Farrell, on the 4th January, was returning home at night, a little after 11 o'clock. It was a dark — neither a moonlight, nor a starlight — night, and Farrell found a person dogging his heels, in Moray Place, this side of Princes street, This excited Farrell's vigilance — he looked over his shoulder, and the man came close up to him. The man fired a pistol shot, which missed Farrell. Farrell made some exclamation, not identifying the man at the time, as he says, asking whether he intended to murder him. Farrell moved on, and another shot was fired, which missed him; a third also was fired, and that missed him. But as Farrell approached his own house, at the back of Brodrick's coal and wood yard, a fourth shot was fired, which took effect. Now, no doubt the person who fired these shots intended to assassinate Farrell, and that is quite sufficient to sustain the indictment which charges the prisoner with intent to murder, and sufficient to justify you in finding a bill. The identity of the prisoner will rest with the Petty Jury upon the oath of Detective Farrell himself, sustained perhaps by some other slight circumstances. I believe also that sufficient evidence will be given of a. motive, to commit the offence. Where the evidence, as you are aware, is satisfactory, evidence of motive is unnecessary. Evidence of motive, however, is always useful where there is any doubt upon the face of the whole evidence, which doubt; that clear evidence of motive will tend to clear up. In like manner, threats are of no consequence taken alone. A man cannot be convicted of threats, but they sometimes give force to other testimony, and therefore they are often deemed valuable when a case comes before the Petty Jury. But your business is simply to inquire whether upon the face of the evidence there is a sufficient case made out to call upon the prisoner to answer, leaving any matter of defence — the chance, I may call it — for the prisoner to break down the testimony for the Crown by means of a cute and judicious crossexamination. That is a matter which you have not to enquire into, but to determine whether the Crown has sufficient evidence to justify you in calling upon the prisoner to answer; and I think that, upon the evidence of Detective Farrell alone, you will find quite sufficient, to justify you in finding a true bill. The second crime against the person is that in which John Gleeson is charged with manslaughter. The circumstances are, that words took place between deceased and Gleeson, at Naseby, and according to the evidence of one of the witnesses who was present, they "squared up to each other and fought." The prisoner knocked the deceased down, and he never got up again; and it was found shortly afterwards that he was dead. Now, it is not likely that the blow caused death; in all probability the man tell upon hard ground, or upon a stone; some sort of evidence will be given of that, I have no doubt, which was the immediate cause of death; but the secondary cause was the blow, for which the prisoner is liable. Possibly when the case is heard it will be found that it is not a case for very severe punishment, because it is clear that killing was not the intention of the prisoner at the time. I see that the Coroner's jury, in a rider, found that the prisoner had received some provocation. But the law provides that wherever death ensues from the prosecution of an unlawful act — and fighting is unlawful — that constitutes manslaughter. In this case, therefore, you will have no difficulty in finding a true bill. The third case is that of John Gibb, who is charged with committing an indecent assault upon a very young girl. (We omit details.) As to the other cases, it is not necessary that I should go much into details. Several are cases of false pretences, and the others are the usual crimes against property. A false pretence, as you are aware, is distinct in law from an unperformed promise. If a man promises to do something in future, and does not fulfil his promise, that does not constitute a false pretence. To prove a charge of obtaining money or goods under false pretences, there must be a false statement of an. existing fact; that is, the representation of something as a fact which has really no existence at all. That constitutes a false pretence. Now a false pretence may be acted as well as spoken, and in one or two cases I think you will find that to be the case. A man goes, and buys goods and gives a valueless cheque, whether signed by himself or another person is of no consequence. He says nothing but tenders the cheque in payment When a man does that, the law implies that he represents it as a good cheque, although he says nothing. In this case the cheques were valueless, and that is sufficient in the eye of the law to constitute a false pretence.
The Grand Jury found true bills against Thomas Ryan, John Gibb, Ah Youck, J. Gleeson and Maurice O'Connell. The Grand jury were asked to attend Court again to-morrow (Wednesday) morning, to consider the cases of prisoners against whom there had not been time to prepare indictments.
THE MORAY PLACE SHOOTING CASE.
Thomas Ryan was charged with having, on the 4th January last, at Dunedin, shot at, with intent to kill, James Farrell, detective officer.
The prisoner pleaded Not Guilty.
Mr B. C. Haggitt prosecuted for the Crown, and Mr Barton defended the accused.
The following were the jury impannelled: — James Bradley (foreman) John Collie, James Wylie, John Campbell, James Anderson, William Kettle, David Marr, William Masterton, Bennet J. Lowry, John Lindsay, Samuel Perry, William Thomson.
Edward Carroll and John Niven were challenged by the Crown, and David Marr by the prisoner.
Mr. Haggitt, on rising to address the Jury, said: The prisoner at the bar is indicted for having shot at one James Farrell, known to all of us as Detective Farrell, with intent to kill and murder him. The crime was committed upon the evening of the 4th January of this year — on a Saturday evening — at about twenty minutes after eleven o'clock. Detective Farrell lives in a house situated in a right-of-way off Moray Place, at the back of Brodrick's coal yard. The entrance to the right-of-way is from Moray Place, and there is also an adjoining right-of-way between Albion house and Claremont House, to which also the entrance is from Moray Place. On the evening I mentioned, Farrell had been in town, in the company of Constable Bain. He was in the Arcade at five minutes past 11 p.m., and he was able to speak as to that hour with certainty, because when at the corner of the Arcade he set his watch by the clock at the University Building, the time then being five minutes past 11. Farrell walked straight from there to the corner of Moray Place and Princes-street, to the Glasgow Arms Hotel corner, where he parted with Constable Bain. From there Farrell went in the direction of his own house, with the intention of going home. He proceeded along that side of the street opposite to the Glasgow Arms Hotel. He walked along, and when passing the Masonic Hall, he saw or heard some person coming from the Glasgow Arms Stables, which are close to the Masonic Hall. This person crossed to the footpath upon the side of the street on which Farrell was walking, and Farrell's attention was aroused to the fact that the person was walking very lightly. Farrell also noticed that on reaching the footpath upon which he was himself walking, and which was asphalted to the width of two feet, the person, instead of walking upon that portion, walked upon the clay portion, so as to make less noise. Hearing the footsteps coming close behind him, Farrell looked over his shoulder, and saw that the person was a man dressed in grey clothes. Farrell had not time to recognise the person, but he walked on, and on reaching the entrance to Park and Curie's workshop, on the left-hand side of Moray Place, coming in the direction of Stuart-street, and when he was in the act of stepping from the kerbing, he suddenly found that the person who up to that time he had thought was a considerable distance in the rear, was close behind him. Farrell immediately turned round to the left, and a shot was discharged. The hand of the person who fired the shot touched Farrell's face, as the pistol was discharged, and had it not been that Farrell turned at that precise moment, there can be no doubt that the shot would have killed him. The very act of his turning enabled him to avoid the shot, but the hand of the would-be, assassin was so close as to touch Farrell's face, and even the smoke from the discharge of the pistol entered his mouth. Farrell then recognised that the person who had fired the shot was the prisoner. It was a dark night, but there is a lamp immediately opposite the place where the shot was fired; the distance from the crossing in front of Park and Curie's workshop to the lamp had been found to be 52 feet, and whether it was the light from the lamp, or the flash of the pistol which enabled Farrell to recognise the person who shot him, I cannot tell; but Farrell will swear that he recognised the person who fired at him to be the prisoner; and immediately that he was able to speak, after blowing the powder from his mouth, Farrell exclaimed, "My God, Ryan, are you going to murder me!" The prisoner then stepped back two or three paces, and prepared the pistol for firing again at Farrell, and Farrell, who at the time carried a stick under his arm, drew, back his stick and threw it at the prisoner, striking him as Farrell thinks, somewhere about the arm. Immediately afterwards Farrell noticed the prisoner again take aim at his head and fire, but that shot also missed him. Farrell then ran, keeping on the same side of the footpath until he came opposite the second right-of-way which runs between Albion House and Claremont House, where he crossed the road. The reason he crossed there was that in Albion House and Claremont House, which are lodging houses, there were lights, and he thought some of the people residing in them would be about the place, whereas there were no lights in the cottages in his own right-of-way, and moreover it was darkened by being shaded by blue gum trees. Farrell consequently ran into the other right-of-way for protection, thinking that some of the lodgers had heard the shots, or, hearing his cries, would come to his assistance. The prisoner, however, followed him. At the entrance to the right-of-way he fired again at Farrell, and immediately afterwards followed that up by firing another shot. The first missed Farrell, but the last took effect in his back, and directly the shot struck him Farrell fell in the right-of-way. The prisoner then ran through the right-of-way in the direction of the street at the back of the Court House. A person was seen by Mrs Walsham, whose attention had been attracted by the firing, to rush past her in this direction, and it is supposed the prisoner came this way, and went down along Castle street to the Water of Leith Hotel, (on the corner of Duke and Great King streets) where he was heard of at a later period of the evening. Farrell staggered almost immediately afterwards to his feet, and went in the direction of his own house. He was met at the entrance to the right-of-way by a man named Humphreys, and followed by another man named Daniels, both of whom will be able to speak of the number of shots that were fired, and as to the position which in the darkness they thought those shots proceeded from. Now, gentlemen, so far this is a perfectly simple case. You have the prisoner identified by Farrell as the person who shot him. But in a case of this sort, fortunately not involving the life of the prisoner, but involving, if he should be convicted, a punishment of extended imprisonment, you would probably not feel justified in convicting him upon the unsupported testimony of the prosecutor, who may possibly, in the darkness, with merely the light from a lamp, or the flash of a pistol to guide him, have been mistaken as to the identity of the person, and therefore you want to enquire as to the motive of the prisoner for committing such a deed. If one man is seen deliberately to fire a pistol at another; in that case you don't want to inquire into the motive; the motive is manifest. Therefore, if you believe the evidence which Detective Farrell will give to-day, it will not be necessary to inquire any further as to whether the prisoner had had or had not motive. It is possible that a motive may exist in the mind of a criminal for the commission of an offence which it is impossible to arrive at by any means whatever; but if that person is seen deliberately to shoot at another, then the motive by which he is actuated is of no importance whatever. But, gentlemen, I shall be able in this case to adduce evidence which will convince you that the prisoner had a very strong motive indeed for the commission of this offence. This is not one of the ordinary cases of attempts to murder which frequently come before this Court. It is not a case like some which arise out of drunken quarrels, when one person being in a half-besotted condition attacks another. It is not a case in which a person finding himself overpowered, draws his knife, or seizes an axe, or takes any other weapon that first comes to his hand, and revenges himself upon the man who has offended him; neither is it like one of those cases in which a sudden quarrel, and a fight ensuing, one man draws a knife and stabs another. This case is like none of these. This is a case, gentlemen, of a most deliberate and premeditated attempt at murder. The facts to be disclosed will show that the prisoner had planned this murder beforehand. He had taken the bearings or lay of the country to find out how he could best commit this crime, and how he could best escape after having committed it. I shall show that a day or two previous to the commission of the crime, the prisoner was seen by a man named Alfred Byford, who keeps the railway crossing at the Stuart street jetty. The prisoner was seen by Byford wandering about and examining the place, and even inspecting the right-of-way by which he made his escape into Gaol street. He was then seen to go in the direction of Castle street, in which direction he is supposed to have gone after the commission of the crime — doing all this apparently with the view of ascertaining which way he could most readily, and with the least chance of detection, escape. I will next proceed to mention to you the motives by which I shall ask you to presume the prisoner was actuated in the commission of this crime. But before doing so, I have a few remarks to make as to the difficulty which exists in a case of this kind in identifying a person who is guilty of offences of this nature. Had the first shot which the prisoner fired taken effect, this case would have never come before the court at all. It would have been amongst the list of those crimes, which are getting too numerous in Dunedin, where the perpetrator of the offence has never been discovered. Supposing Farrell had been shot dead, no suspicion would necessarily have attached to the prisoner. It was not known then by anybody that such a motive existed as I shall point out existed in the case of the prisoner; and had it not been for the fact of the prisoner being accused, that motive would have been still unknown, and perhaps never would have been suspected. It would most likely have been thought that some person against whom Farrell procured a conviction had, from feelings of revenge, attempted to take his life. No suspicion, at any rate, could have rested on the prisoner, and there would have been no means of identifying any person as the perpetrator of the crime. The prisoner, no doubt, relied upon the first shot taking effect in the way in which he intended it should do. It having failed, he would probably have endeavoured to escape undetected, trusting that another opportunity would arise for the crime which he had meditated, had it not been that Farrell detected him at the moment the shot was fired and called out his name as he did. The prisoner must have imagined that Farrell's cries would have reached the ears of some one, and that in consequence of his name being called out by Farrell, suspicion would be, directed to him; therefore, having commenced the affair, and being detected in the act by Farrell he thought his only chance of escape was to finish what he had commenced, and destroy the only evidence that could be brought against him — the evidence of Farrell himself, who saw him in the act of firing. I think that must be the case, or I cannot account for the prisoner firing the shots ineffectually. He must have been unnerved by the fact of being discovered, and by Farrell's cries, in every one of which Ryan's name was mentioned. But, of course, you will say, this is only a mere matter of speculation; you will require it to be proved that the prisoner had a motive for committing the crime. What I have to prove is that the prisoner was near the spot at the time; that he had the means of committing the crime, and that he had also the motive for committing it. Now, as I have mentioned already, Farrell's evidence will go to show that the hour at which this crime was committed was about a quarter-past 11 o'clock. That you will find to be very nearly the actual time it occurred, because it will be proved on the evidence of Warder Carey at the gaol who, on hearing the shots fired, got up, and while in the act of dressing, he looked his watch and found it to be twenty minutes past eleven; so that is very close to the time fixed by Farrell. It will also he shown by the evidence of two witnesses that shortly after 11 o'clock the same evening the prisoner was in Princes street, in the immediate neighbourhood of the Glasgow Arms Hotel. He had been in the company of Ennis at about 11 o'clock, but had parted with him at Tofield's corner. He was seen shortly after 11 o'clock by Constable McWilliams talking to some person in Princes street, between the premises of Messrs Herbert, Haynes, and Co., and the Criterion; so you have it that he was seen in the neighbourhood about the time when the offence was committed; that if so disposed he was in a position to commit it. Then as to the evidence that he had the means to commit the crime, we have not been able altogether to obtain, because the revolver with which Farrell was shot, in spite of every search, has not been found. That, however, is not of very much importance. From the number of shots fired you have conclusive evidence that the weapon used was a revolver; and we also know how easy it is to conceal, and how difficult it is to discover such a weapon. It is possible that when going, as it was supposed the prisoner did go along Castle street, on his way to the water of Leith, the prisoner threw the pistol into the swamp, where, if you threw a stone, it would sink to a depth of about 2 feet and if the pistol was thrown into the swamp there is little chance that it will ever be seen again. But though the pistol has not been found, on searching the box of the prisoner a quantity of ammunition was found by Sub-Inspector Mallard, viz., powder, cartridges, caps, and all the ammunition, in fact, necessary for the use of a revolver was found in this box. But you will probably say that that is not of much importance — that seeing the prisoner had been a sergeant of police, one would expect to find such things in his box. And if you would expect to find these things, you certainly would also expect to find a revolver; but a revolver was not found. Again, out amongst the cartridges found in this box, the doctors attending Detective Farrell picked out one as being a cartridge of the size which would have inflicted the wound that was found by them in Farrell's back. So you have some evidence, at any rate, that the prisoner, besides being in a position to commit the murder, had the means of committing it also. Now, the next evidence you want in support of this testimony is evidence of the motive of the prisoner. Gentlemen, I shall produce letters found by Sub-Inspector Mallard in the prisoner's box, which will show you that an illicit intercourse has been carried on between the prisoner and Farrell's wife for a number of years. In consequence of something that was discovered by Farrell a considerable number of months ago, the prisoner who up to that time had been on friendly terms with Farrell, was forbidden his house altogether. Still, in spite of that, this illicit intercourse continued; and from the letters which I will read to you presently, the prisoner apparently sought every possible occasion to meet Mrs Farrell in secret places, where they could not be seen or heard of by Farrell. From some of the letters, you will see that the prisoner even went the length of asking Mrs Farrell to disguise herself and go to Hampden to visit him there. Mrs Farrell declined to do that — not that she had not the inclination, but because she was afraid that as police officers were always near when the coaches were about to leave, she would be seen, and that her proceedings would be reported to her husband. From the facts I have mentioned, I shall suggest two motives, either of which, as it seems to me, was sufficient to influence the prisoner. The first motive is this: That had Farrell been removed out of the way by means of this attempt on his life the bar to the illicit intercourse between the prisoner and Farrell's wife would also have been effectually removed, and the guilty pair could have continued that intercourse unchecked. Another motive arising out of the same thing is, that had Farrell been shot the prisoner would have been free to marry Mrs Farrell, and that last motive, if you consider it, will be found to be one to which there is attached a considerable amount of probability. As a monetary transaction merely, I shall show you that it would have answered the prisoner very well indeed to have disposed of Farrell for the sake of marrying his wife. Farrell has been in the police force of this Colony over ten years, and he is now pretty comfortably off. He has houses and land worth between L600 and L700, and having no children, his widow would have been entitled to the profits of that during her life, at any rate. After ten years' service in the police, Farrell would be entitled to compensation from the Provincial Government, which in his case would amount to over L300, and if he had been killed that night he would have been shot, it might have been said, while in the execution of his duty and his widow would have received the amount, whatever it might have been, from the Provincial Government on his behalf. And there can be no doubt that if he had been shot under these circumstances, and if it had been suggested that in fulfilling his duties Farrell had prosecuted to conviction a person who afterwards shot him out of revenge, a public subscription would have been got up for the widow, and a considerable amount would doubtless have been collected in that way. No doubt, also, the prisoner himself would have headed the subscription list, and would have taken care that the amount raised was as much as it possibly could be. But, added to this, there is another amount which would have gone to Farrell's widow, in the event of his being killed, which the prisoner knew of, and which he had actually inquired about from Farrell himself. You will recollect, gentlemen, that some little time ago, a defaulting bank clerk, from Sydney named Warren, was arrested by Farrell, for which he was entitled to a reward of L300, that amount having been offered by the Manager of the Bank at Sydney. Quite recently the prisoner put a question to Farrell regarding this L300. He asked if any reward had been offered, and was told that L300 had been offered. The prisoner then asked Farrell what part of the reward he would get, and Farrell replied that he would get the lot. Now, gentlemen, I think these few things I have mentioned will show you that on monetary grounds alone, considering the very affectionate terms on which the prisoner and Farrell's wife were, he had a very considerable motive indeed for committing this crime. Of course I am always supposing that the man had a mind to do it. To some men the very thought of living in any way with the wife of the man to be murdered would be a sufficient bar to the commission of the crime. But men's minds are differently constituted, and if the prisoner was guilty of this attempt at murder he would also be capable of marrying the wife of his victim, and living upon the proceeds of his crime — namely, the money which he had derived from him by this means. Having made these suggestions to you, I will read some extracts from the letters on which I have beer commenting, as showing the motive of the prisoner. I shall not read the letters in their entirety. Only one of the letters is from the prisoner to Mrs Farrell; the others are letters written by Mrs Farrell to the prisoner; and these letters, as I have already told you, were discovered all together in prisoner's box. The discovery of the letters from the prisoner to Mrs Farrell was made in this way: On one occasion Farrell found the prisoner's likeness in his wife's workbox. She made some excuse, which apparently satisfied Farrell at the time as to how she became possessed of it. She stated that she had stolen it from a Mrs Gilligan, at Palmerston. Farrell's suspicions were aroused, however, and one day he went to the Post-office and found a letter there addressed to his wife by the prisoner, and which is the only letter from the prisoner to Mrs Farrell that we are possessed of; but the remainder of the correspondence shows that he had been writing to her, for her letters speak of his letters to her. Mrs Farrell urged the prisoner in nearly every letter to burn her letters. In this way she appears to have exercised more caution than the prisoner. Fortunate would it have been for him if he had taken her advice, and have thus removed the very strong evidence against him now. No doubt Mrs Farrell, exercising more caution than the prisoner, burned the letters which she received from him. At any rate none have been found, and the only letter from the prisoner to Mrs Farrell which we can produce, is this letter which Farrell himself intercepted. Having got this letter, Farrell read it to his wife, in the presence of her sister, and you will hear about the scene that took place on that occasion, the letter being torn and the envelope destroyed. I am not going to read extracts from these letters in any order. Some of them bear dates; others do not. Others bear dates but not the year in which they were written. That will have to be gathered from the contents of the letters themselves. I propose to put them in to-day, gentlemen, in order that you may have them to-night when you retire, because it will take you a long time to go over them, to sort them, and arrange them in their proper order. Mr Haggitt then read the following letter above referred to from the prisoner to Mrs Farrell: —
"Hampden, 14th February, 1872
"My Dear Delia — Your telegram came to hand, but owing to my being a Oamaru, I could not possibly write by last mail.
"I am surprised at you leaving a photo. I have not had an opportunity of seeing Mrs F. since, but will the first possible chance I have, I intended telling her they are for poor Nan, whom I am really sorry to hear of being so ill. I trust the Giver of all things will restore her to good health again.
"Pettie, be kind to your dear sister in her illness, and it will be the means of cheering her up, seeing that she has a kind sister, even in a strange land.
"I need not say to be kind to your sister, for I know your dear little heart is brimful of kindness. Tell Miss M. that I will pray for her speedy recovery, and if you think well of it, I would strongly advise her to leave town for a few weeks. You may think it strange of me saying if she would like to come to Hampden for the benefit of her health, I would only be too proud to find hotel accommodation for her, and that of the very best description. My dear pettie, you no doubt will find fault with me writing so little about you in the first part of this letter, but you will forgive me, and I really must say I feel for her illness.
"My Delia, I was greatly surprised at getting a note from F., telling me, that you had left for town; but about midday my mind told me something was to happen, as I felt quite uneasy, but although fate has been kind to us in affording us the unbounded pleasure of meeting — even as we did — still I thought fate was cruel in taking you away from me so unexpectedly. Oh, pettie, when will we meet again. I must exclaim — O, God! save my darling until I see her once more.
"For I am sad at heart; yes, my soul is troubled at the thought of living separated from the only object of my affection. Do not think me careless, my dear Delia. I confess I cannot write. My very mind is confused at the idea of losing sight of you.
"For, God, how long that I am unable to write with any sence.
"Pettie, you say your foot is sore. Don't put a light boot on for a few days, and you will find it will get all right. I heard he is back in town. Be very careful, for he may look for letters. Be sure and burn this; and above all things, write often, for it gives me more happiness than you are aware to hear from my dear little girl. Yes, a girl that the world cannot prevent me from loving with all the poars of my heart.
"Pettie, you never said anything about your health, or if you intend to use the medicine. You must, my little girl, like a good pettie; and I will willingly pay for it, for I am sure it will make my Delia big and strong. Farewell at last. ]
"Good night, my pettie, and believe me to be, yours, most lovingly,
"Dudo.
"Do write soon."
(Received Friday, 16tb, 1872. J. Farrell, Detective.)
"Moray Place, August 24th.
"Dear Tom — I hope I have given you time to get all your work done. The last time I wrote you were so, so busy that you could scarcely find time to answer it, so I thought I would not trouble you again in a hurry. However, as you were happy I could not complain. I know that collecting the emigration money is not the least pleasant part of your duty. Still, I think you will be glad to hear from me. I have been nearly all time ill in bed, so you can fancy the pleasant time I had of it. I have a very bad cold, and severe coughing all night, which is really distressing. Still, as I lay awake all night, I had some happy thought of days gone bye, which I fear will never come back. I often think how bright your lot might be if you had never met me. It is sad to think that I should bring trouble to the only kindest friend I ever met; but it is my fate. I want you to think tenderly of me whatever troubles I have brought to you, and the pains I have give you all along. Pray for me, and forgive me. All my life has been a sad one, and I want pity from you. Mrs T. is still very ill and poor. I thought they were going to leave the place, 'but they are still there. Address the letters as before. I hope you will write as soon as you get this. Father Coleman told me he would see you.
"He is so nice to speak to, so gentle and kind. Only fancy, Dudo, Father Colman comes from near the place and knows some of our friends. Well, he was so pleased — quite delighted — both expressed a wish that I would call often. I did do so once, and was received graciously by both. I got ten pounds for the chapel; total amount, 82 pounds 5s, so we have done well you see. I am as pale as death, you will not believe it, but it is a fact. I had a visit from his lordship and father Coleman this last week. He said I looked very dalicate; he gave Nan and I two beads and two medals. His Lordship is skilful in medicine; he said Nan looked very bad; he thinks I am a little consumptive; so, that will tell you. He said I ought to take cod liver oil for nourishment for the blood, Delia."
P.S. — Percella showed me your letter to her. It was very feeling."
"Moray Place, Sunday Evening, October 1st.
"My Darling Tom — I hope you got my last letter all right. I am still at a loss to how to get to address one to for me. I wish, pettie, you were home, so as that I would not be bothered like this. Oh, darling! if only to see you once a week, it would in some way compensate me. Oh, duck, you have not the slightest idea how glad I would be to see you.
"I saw a man last week who in some resembled you. Oh, how my heart beat at the first sight of him. I wish you would, would come; only to see you once, and I would only ask one little kiss. Oh, I would, promise to be such a good girl, and not scold you for anything you would say or do, if you would only come home again. Only fancy, duck, the long, long time since I saw you.
"Oh, my own duck, won't you let me kiss — oh, such a lot of times — when you come. You said you would always love me, duck.
"There is a grand skeme on foot. If I could carry it out it would at least throw us together for some months, perhaps longer. He wants me to go home in the summer — that is, if he could afford it — for the good of health, for I am far from well.
"If that could be, I would have you come down; and lay up sick, and get compensation, and go away to America, as it were to your sisters, but wait for me in Melbourne. Oh, pettie, if you could manage that we would be at least happy for some time.
"If I could get Nan home by the wool ships I would be able to follow her in a few months. I wish you were down; but when you come it will be for good. We cannot live like this always. When we get to London I could make excuses for remaining there for a long time, under the pretence of bad health, and we could be together all the time. It would be like heaven, and to be there none would watch us.
"You might send me answer in Preellad's letter. Enclose an envelope for me. I think it would be quite safe. I think they are angry with me. I have not been there only once since you left. I have no other way to get a letter, for I would not ask Mrs T., not if I would never hear from you, she sets such a value on anything she would do if you never give her anything; she pulls on such a face when I get a letter — just as if you were a villain, or something like it; just as she would not do worse than take a little letter from you to me. I am sure a Nun might read it and not err. It is all pretence. My dearest love, who would blame me for haring from my darling angel? Think over all I told you, pettie, or, I ought to say, all I will write; and be sure and burn all the letters I sent you. Good-by, and God bless and keep you. — Think with love of your
"Delia."
"P.S. — I will soon write again, if you do not. Do not write to Precilla. I must wait in till you come down."
"Moray Place, Friday evening.
"My Darling — You will think that I am never going to write you. First I must tell you that I got what you left all right, and tell you how grateful I am for you many acts of kindness to me. I also received your letter all right, and was glad you were as happy as can be expected under the circumstances. I cannot tell you how miserable I have been since you left. You know that I am alone every night until twelve, so you may fancy how happy I am; not a soul to speak to night after night like that. I think sometimes I will soon be mad. Oh, pettie, why is the world so cruel to us? The meeting was like a glimpse into Paradise, and then the doors suddenly closed, to shut out from us all that was beautiful. Oh, but never mind, love, we will find the key some day that will open all that is bright and happy. Something tells me it will be so.
"My darling pettie, it was Nan that was on the beach the day you left. I sent her — I thought you would be pleased to see someone that was belong to me. It was all I could do, as I could not go myself. You will be sorry to hear that poor Shearer fell off the ladder. You know that lamp in the Barrack yard. He was lighting that — the ladder broke, and he fell to the ground on his side, and his back is badly hurt. He remained in the Barracks for a week, but the tyrant, you know, would not let him stay any longer; so poor fellow he's in the hospital. Pettie, that word in your letter (striving) to love me sounds painful. Do not make use of it again. I know it was not meant to hurt me, but I do not like the word.
"For your love, is all in this world I live for. I believe I would be dead long ago only for it. Oh, darling, it is the silver border to all my dark clouds. Oh, my own dear pet, it is the only ray of sunshine that brightens all my misery. Do not write to me again until I write to you, for I do not like to be under a compt. to her. I will always write to you. Be sure and burn this. For ever.
"Yours."
The lines is in mron. for a day or so. I am taking the balsom, and feel well."
"Moray Place, Thursday, 24th. "Dear Tom — I can hardly think you have received my two last letters; that is if what 1 heard last night was true, that is that you have refused to come to town, and even give up your stripes to stay. I will not believe such a proceeding until I hear it from your own lips. I am really at a loss to know what you mean. I thought it would be the greatest pleasure you could ere enjoy is to come to town. But how that you will not come. I do not know what you mean, if it is not what I wrote made you change your mind. That is the only consolation I have, oh, my darling love. Or is it that you have changed towards me. If so, it was one of the flirtings of heart to ask you if ever you did not love me to tell of it. Oh, Tom, my pet, my duck, will you not explain all to me? If the world would mind its own business, and I had plenty of funds, I would go up and see you, as the lord has gone to Southland to-day, so that if you will write to me directly you receive this I will have it before he comes back. You know how to direct it to the old place, to your little pettie for ever.
"Oh, it is nearly a week since I heard you were coming down, and I was watching for him every night, thinking you would be with him, until last night Stumps told him, in great triumph, you were not to come. Of course he was glad to, as he was glad to-day. Oh! pettie, I thought you were mad to refuse to come. I never met such a disappointment in all my life. Oh! tell me all, my darling love, and do not keep me miserable. You know not what a state I am in about it. Oh, duck, you were all the world to me, pettie. I never went out scarsely since I only think of your love, thinking that you would be so pleased when you would come down to hear that I was a good girl.
"F. is gone to Southland about something or other. Dearest, Moray Place for me."
"Sunday Evening.
"My Dear Tom — All is discovered; He called at the Post Office and got the letter. What ever possessed you to write, after I telling not to? First he searched my bag, and found your likeness, but I warded that off, and said that I stole it from Mrs Gilligan's sister. That made him suspicious, and he went to P. Office, and found the crowning of all your. I told you not write, but you would do it. Nan is better. I was obliged to sit in the room before her, and hear the letter read to my face. He will never forgive me this time. I will never have the chance to see you again. I have not time to write more. Never write again, on no account. You will get the valentine from Mrs J. Nan is so sorry for him finding us out. With rending love, I am, yours.
"Delia."
"If I get the chance, I will write again. O! my pettie."
"Moray Place, Dunedin Sunday.
"My Dear Tom — I will be glad to hear from you this time, as I had a nasty dream about you since I heard from you last. I hope you have not met with any hurt. I do not like to hear of you going through a rough country; it always makes me frightened. I cried the morning I got your letter, for fear anything would happen you. I did prey so fervently for your return, and only fancy, Dudo, I never got one scroll from him since he left.
"I am sorry I did not go up to see you pettie, and chance all blame. You must think what times I have here — miserable and lonely. Oh, pettie, you cannot think how miserable I am. Sometimes I am near mad, when I think of the past; then I am indeed sad, and do not care to live only for you.
"I would end my wretched life; it would be a release. Oh, Tom, how I would like to see you, to tell you all my trouble, and die near you.
"I really want to die, Tom; I am not so fond of this world as to suffer in it for the mere sake of living. I am mad to-day, as you will see by the way I am writing this letter. I was not out of the house since he left. I will not go out until he will come. I want to kill myself. What am I living for to be the dupe of a villain that is enjoying himself, and does not care about me, that is plain to be seen. Pray for me darling, this might be my last letter. I want you to think tenderly of me, what ever will say us I enclose a little token, the words in sewing on the card. I have suffered, and so I have worked it yesterday for my husband, before God and Heaven. This the and (end?) says when I am gone. Oh, pettie, I hope he will let me see you only once more, and I will be happy. Pray for your little wife. D.
"He will not be home. Write to me by return of post.
"Keep this in remembrance of my unhappy days, which are many. I ask you a favour — to burn my letters.
"Delia."
"Water of Leith Hotel.
"Dear Duck — I am here all day, and cannot see you, of course. I you can't help it, but I am miserable. My darling pettie, I have not one single token of you, when you are gone to Melbourne.
"There is one thing I want you to do; that is, that you buy me a light blue French morena dress. It was your fancy. You said I would look so well in it. That is all I want of you, and earings for Mrs Crafts; for she loves us both. I hope you will do that. It will not cost much, duck. Your pettie.
"Excuse this, darling,
"My darling pettie,
"Delia.
"It might be the last request."
"Moray Place, Dunedin,
"Friday Morning.
"My darling Dudo — I never got such a scolding in my life as I got last night from Nan. She declared she would tell him when he would come home.
"If so, I am ruined. I wish I did not go down at all last night. Just fancy the impudence of young B. saying you were here every night courting. That is what made Nan angry. My darling love, when will the time come when we will be happy, and dare them all to question or watch us? Never mind, pettie, they can all go to old Nick. There is one thing, they cannot make me love you one bit less. The best thing for you is not to come to-night.
"Not until to-morrow night.
"My heart and soul is yours, is love, as long as the smallest particle of breath is left in my body. Yes, my own darling, you are my life, my hope, my joy; and without you, pettie, I cannot think of living. Oh, Dudo, what would all the world, without you it all be blank to me. Pray for your pettie, love, and be of good cheer, and I will pray, for you. How I wished I was near you this very minute. I would get such a lot of dear kisses. This young puss is leaving, me, so I cannot write; besides I am afraid Bet will be out of bed every minute. Do not study the spelling or writing — only the words, pettie.
''I had not one scrap of paper; but this old dirty sheet. Think of your own pettie often, and with love. She will ever think of you. Be sure and come to-morrow night at the usual time. Until then, love me in your heart — only me Dudo.
"Your own Pettie."
"Moray Place, January, 8th, 1870.
"Dear Dudo — I know that you will be angry with me for not writing to you ere this time; but you must think you were not in a very great hurry yourself. However, for that you have given me ample reason; so I cannot blame you very much. I looked for a letter from you with as much ardor as a child looks for its mother or a new toy. Oh Dudo, you cannot believe how delightful I was to hear from you, to hear you call me the tender little name — little wife. Oh, pettie, you are my darling for ever.
"Dudo, I hope you have done nothing wrong since you left. I had an awful dream about you. It was this: I thought you were married, and that you told me you could not help, but that you loved me the same as ever. But I would not let you. I told you to go to your wife. I was mad. I thought it was all up with us; but, Dudo, the horror of that moment I could never forget, although it was only a dream. Oh, darling, that will never happen. Oh, if there is any person up there you like better than me, be good enough to tell me. I dream very truly, Dudo; there is something in the wind. If so, tell me, pettie — tell your little pet, that pines for you like a little bird in a cage. You said you would come home, in 3 months. Will you, my darling, write to me all about my dream. If there is any truth in it, you will not be angry for thinking you could do wrong. The reason I did not write was, that I wanted to take you by surprise by sending you my likeness; he kept me waiting for night for them. I do not think they are like me, pettie. You will excuse this scrape, for I am afraid of him coming home. Nan has been very ill; she will soon die. Write to me as before. Mrs T. is very ill still.
"P. S. Write to me, my darling pettie. I pray for you every morning and night. Oh, pettie, come home to your love, or else I will go mad; you would not — you wouldent, Dudo, bring back the kiss I gave you going away, for I will keep mine for you.
"I cannot tell you I missed on that day you went away, and ever since you left. Oh, darling, I never will never can forget — it is impossible I could — the happy times we spent together. Ellen is here, and I cannot write it all, see it is all crooked."
" Wednesday Evening, September 20th, 1870.
"My Darling Tom — You must not be angry with me for not writing to you before this, but I have been very angry with you for not paying more attention to the letter I wrote to you before the last, when I said Mrs T. was not going to have any thing more to do with our letters.
"It seemed to me that you cared so little about the only thing we both had to heart.
"Now to convince you of what I wrote then, I tell you now for the last time that you are not to have any more letters addressed to her. She is dying, and of course does not want to have any more to do with us, so I beg of you not to direct any more letters to her.
"I am ill, my love, or else I would not write like this to you. I am not able; my head is all swollen up, so as that I cannot scarcely see the paper.
"Oh, darling, if you wish to see me alive, you will come down; still I will not say come; but please yourself. I saw B. back in town; he saw you; he told me you were getting so fat and strong. I was so pleased to hear of it. I hope God will give you long life, and learn to pray for your little pettie, who will soon visit her long home where there is no trouble.
"Do not be sorry for me, Dudo, for I want a rest.Oh, I long to die, for I can never be happy in this world.
"My life has been one sad mistake, and that is the reason I want you to pity me, when I think what might have been and ought by right to have been. It would be a comfort to think that some person would feel for me, and you are the only darling one I can look to for that comfort. Oh, Tom, love me as you used to do, and my dying hours will be happy, still. I would like to see that dear old face, and imprint my last kiss on those mellow lips. Oh, pettie, it would be all heavenly.
"Tom, you are far happier than I am, for you have your health. Oh, it is a blessing of which you could not be too proud of.
"You must not answer this letter until I will write another to you, as I have no place to address it to. Nan has been very ill for a long time, she is getting better now. I hope you are quite well, my love, and that you pray for your pettie, who always prays for you.
"Delia"
"My Dear Tom — I came to Palmerston Thursday. I cannot believe you are so near and cannot see you. Try by some means to come down without creating a suspicion, as Finnigan would tell him all.
"I could write before this. I thought you would hear of it by some means or other without me writing. Ever your
"Delia."
(The remainder of the correspondence will be published in our next issue.) -Bruce Herald, 11/4/1873.
THE ATTEMPTED MURDER OF DETECTIVE FARRELL.
Late Dunedin papers have their columns full of evidence and correspondence connected with the trial of Ryan for shooting with intent to kill Detective Farrell, of the Otago Police. The letters are those written by Mrs Farrell to Ryan. They are numerous, lengthy, and of a highly gushing type. They are usually signed 'Delia' and are addressed to her "darling Dudu" or her "darling Tom" — her "own dear pettie." The most gushing is the last of the lot, which reads as follows: —
"My own darling love — I cannot live much longer like this. It seem as if I was mad at times. I feel as if I could not do a thing but sit down and think of you. Your image haunts me all over the house. I can see you as plain before me as if you were really there. I can see us both standing, both close together — first, in the gardens, then in some other dreary place, with nothing to break the silence but the breathings of our own hearts. Oh, pettie, never will I forget the many happy hours we spent together, pressed close to your loving heart, or with my little head resting on your manly breast. How happy we both have been, when we have had a love-stolen hour to tell each other what we intended to do. Oh, my darling, will the time come when we will be free to love each other, as, is our want? Sometimes I can see a bright future — then all seems blank and without a ray of hope. I wish at times we were both beneath the sod, where we could both rest undisturbed. Oh, my darling love, you will never leave me, and go where I could not be with you? If you do, I will die in your arms. I will follow you, and then die happy with my heart upon your breast. That will be all I want. Oh, then, pettie, you can tell the world I died for you — that I could not live without you, and end my life. Oh, how hard the world is; how cruel fate is; my destiny has been a sad one. If you could trace back with me the last seven years, the many lonely hours I spent in pangs of the greatest misery that a human being ever suffered. Oh, Dudu, mine has been a sad life, and I do not see a chance of it being any brighter. I often think that life is not worth living for. Then comes my lover, beautiful — my own pettie — like an angel to brighten my sad misery, and then life seems bright again. If I could kiss my darling now I would be happy. Oh, pettie, never again hurt my feelings by telling me that I forget you for any other; — No, no, there is not a man in this world who could raise a tender feeling in my heart, only you. One pressure of that gentle hand of thine, is worth a lifetime with others. One kiss from those soft lips — one look from those soft eyes that speak from the soul — a moment pressed to that manly breast is worth years of devotion from others. Oh, yes, my love, heaven will aid us; heaven will free me some time to be thine for ever. Oh, darling pray with me that we may be free to love each other. Oh, what a heaven it would be, pettie. May God grant it be so, is the prayer of your own.
— Delia."
James Farrell, the prosecutor, recounted the evidence taken at the Mayor's Court, and stated that after he was wounded he moved towards his residence, and, on arriving, knocked at the door. Mrs Farrell came to the door in her night-dress. Her sister, Annie Megley, also came in her night-dress. Both were together inside when the door was opened. He was positive that the prisoner was the man who shot at him. He had been on friendly terms with the prisoner for a long time, but through a certain cause prohibited prisoner from visiting at his house in May, 1870. The cause was that on one occasion he came home and found his wife absent, and on making inquiry found that she had been away during the whole of the afternoon. He went to an hotel and learned that she was there, but failed for the moment to discover who was with her. He looked through the keyhole of a door; and saw her standing beside the prisoner. He then opened, the door and went inside, when a cohversation took place. He left the hotel, leaving his wife behind, and after' a while returned and again looked through the key-hole, when he observed his wife sitting on the knee of prisoner. He immediately entered the room and said to prisoner, "Is this the commission you have to visit my house? Is this the way you try to disgrace me? Leave this room." The prisoner left, and on the following day he ordered prisoner by letter to cease visiting at his house. From that time, prisoner did not visit his house with his authority. The prisoner visited there, however, frequently. On one occasion he saw prisoner at the back door and heard his wife say: "Come back again tomorrow evening." On the following evening he planted himself under the gum trees, and about 10.30 saw prisoner enter the house, leaving the door partially open. After some conversation inside between his wife, sister-in-law, and prisoner, he heard his wife. say, "He'll soon be in.'' whereupon witness walked inside and said to prisoner, "Stand there; I want to talk to you." Witness had a four-barrelled revolver-in his hand, at the time; he remarked "This is the way you try to disgrace me. I am a strong-minded man; otherwise I would blow your brains out. Leave my house, and, never enter it again." He did not see prisoner in his house after that date, but saw him in the neighborhood. The letter produced, dated February 14, 1872, was in prisoner's handwriting. In consequence of something he had heard he went to the Post Office and got the letter. He then opened and read it, and afterwards went home, and finding only his sister-in-law in the house, called his wife in. When she appeared he read the letter to both of them, remarkmg, "That is a pretty correspondence you are carrying on." The letter produced was in his wife's handwriting. It commenced: — "My dear Tom — I called at the Post Office and got your letter, what possessed you to write?" All the letters produced were in his wife's handwriting. In February, 1872, prisoner was stationed at Hampden, and in the following month he was transferred to Invercargill. In June following he was dismissed the service, and came to Dunedin. The prisoner's name is Thomas Ryan, but he signed himself Dudu. Grey River Argus, 16/4/1873.
Ryan was tried twice for the attempted murder of Farrell. The first trial resulted in a hung jury, the second in acquittal. Although the letters were damning, no independent witness placed Ryan at the scene. This was significant then - it becomes more so later in this story.
Delia escaped her husband and the deeply humiliating situation of having her letters published in the newspapers all around New Zealand.
It is stated that Mrs Farrell, the lady who acquired such unenviable notoriety in connection with the Dunedin shooting case, is, under an assumed and high-sounding name, officiating as a priestess of Bacchus, in Christchurch. -Grey River Argus, 4/10/1873.
Farrell's humiliation meant that his evidence carried less weight with juries and he was transferred to Lawrence, where he, in 1875, was accused of "gambling in the presence of constable, picking on subordinates, withholding information on larcenies and allowing himself while in uniform to be beaten by an old woman with a decayed fowl."
In 1878, Ryan was in another tight corner.
THE RYAN-DANIELS MURDER CASE.
THE WHOLE STORY OF THE AFFAIR.
The recent trial of Thomas Ryan, of Hokitika (says an exchange), has resulted in an acquittal; but beyond the mere telegraphic announcement of the fact, very few of our readers possess any particular knowledge of the affair, and we therefore propose in this issue to place before them a detailed and connected account of the affair. This case is worthy of far greater interest than it has yet received, because of the immense cost to the country, amounting to about £4000, because of there having been two trials before different judges; and because of the previous history of the accused Ryan. Some years ago, in Dunedin, Ryan was a sergeant of police. He is a tall, handsome man, with a flowing beard; very commanding in his manner. His complection is dark-brown; eyes, keen and piercing, sometimes flashing with light, at other times relapsing into a cold sinister expression. He possesses those qualities which attract the admiration of the fair sex, and ten years ago must have been a splendid looking fellow. Those qualities appear to have impressed the heart of a lady in Dunedin, wife of Detective Farrell, and a liaison bound them together. They corresponded under fictitious names; but being at last discovered, Ryan was dismissed the service. Shortly after this, as Detective Farrell was walking by night in one of the least frequented parts of Dunedin, some one chased him, and fired four shots at him. The first three missed, but the fourth struck him in the back. The first who found the detective after being wounded, was a man named Joseph Daniels, who swore that he saw a man run away, but could not say it was Ryan. Farrell said it was Ryan. Ryan was tried for attempting murder, but was acquitted. Since then he has lived in various parts of the colony. When the Kumara rush broke out in 1876, crowds flocked thither from all parts. The writer has gone through the streets when such crowds were standing about, that it was like forcing through a London mob. Here we find both Daniels and Ryan. Daniels had been on ill terms with his wife, and had left her, she taking charge of the eldest boy, and he of the two youngest. Daniels built a small hut on a section of land owned by Ryan, adjoining the latter's own cottage, and the men lived together apparently in peace. Ryan, however, was very poor, and found great difficulty in making a living. Daniels was a cook, but got nothing to do, and used to go fishing in a creek a few miles away. He was a most reticent man, and supposed to have had money secreted in his house. After about seven months, in March of 1877, Daniels was suddenly missed. Ryan told several people he had gone to Hokitika, and even reported his sudden departure to the police, and requested them to take charge of Daniel's two children, to whom he was very kind. The mother went up from Hokitika hearing that her two younger children had been left by their father, and says that in conversation Ryan told her that her husband had gone to the Canterbury Plains to get a billet as cook. She says when Ryan saw her he turned pale and shivered. She asked the children about their father's watch which was found hanging up in the hut after Daniels was missed, but which suddenly disappeared. No trace whatever could be found of Daniels, but instead of him being treated as a missing man, and search parties being organised, the thing was allowed to pass. The children went to Hokitika and lived with their mother. Ryan took possession of Daniels' cottage and let it, and, in course of conversation, Ryan assured Mrs. Daniels that she might safely marry again, as he felt sure her husband would not bother her any more. So she says. Shortly after this, a number of persons passing through the bush on a track leading to a small diggings, noticed a strong smell, but supposing it arose from a dead animal, took no notice. But about this time, Ryan bought, in conjunction with another man, an express and horse. We have omitted to state that Daniels' children saw their father at dinner-time, but when they returned from school he was not there, and they never saw him again, so that the murder must have taken place in the afternoon. This was in March, 1877. In the following September some children playing in the bush about a hundred yards beyond Ryan's house (Kumara is built in the centre of a huge forest), found the remains of a man. The police were at once communicated with. There was great excitement at Kumara. Several persons at once visited the remains, which were found in a natural hole in the bush, and were covered with ferns, dry leaves, and dead branches. When the news got wind of a man being found dead, Ryan at once said it was probably Daniels, and went up with his express touting for a job to carry the remains to the police camp. After a few days, suspicion became fixed on Ryan, and the police brought him several times in view of the remains, but he exhibited no signs of compunction, and stood the tests placed before him. As Judge Richmond remarked, there was manifest either the most complete innocence or the greatest callousness he had ever heard of. A number of circumstances, small in themselves, but in the aggregate calculated to confirm the suspicion, came to light, and Ryan was placed upon his trial for murder. At the magisterial investigation, he conducted his own case with great skill in the Kumara Court. He was, however, committed for trial. Upon the way down on reaching the tollgate at Arahura, the keeper came to the coach, and asked, "Is there any more news about this Ryan, who murdered Daniels?" Ryan himself replied, "No there's nothing new," and the coach moved on. The first trial took place before Chief Justice Prendergast in March. The Crown engaged three solicitors — Messrs. South (Crown prosecutor), Sutton, and Guinness. Ryan was defended by Mr. Purkiss. Between thirty and forty witnesses were sworn on the side of the Crown, but the prisoner brought forward no evidence, merely relying upon the weakness of the case for the prosecution. After a trial extending over a week, the jury were locked up for nearly two days, but were unable to agree; five were for a verdict of guilty, and six for not guilty, and one gentleman with an elastic conscience, was willing to vote (like some politicians) with the strongest side. As there was no possibility of an agreement, the jury were discharged, and a fresh trial instituted before Judge Richmond. The evidence was almost identical with that adduced at the previous trial. The watch of Daniel's was traced to Ryan, who had given it in security for a debt; but as it was sworn that it was seen after Daniels was missed in the house, it did not prove much against the prisoner. The portrait of Farrell was in a locket attached to the chain Ryan had been wearing. One witness swore that he saw Ryan and Daniels standing together in the bush the afternoon Daniels must have been murdered. However, after a very clear summing up by Judge Richmond, the jury retired for about half an hour, and brought in a verdict of "not guilty," and Ryan was discharged. Throughout the whole investigation he preserved great coolness, sleeping and eating well. At times he would appear to be quite listless, and paying but little heed to the business, and at other times would eagerly listen, and scan the countenances of jurymen and judges, or the witnesses under examination. Thomas Ryan has thus for the second time in his life been placed in the dreadful position of a prisoner charged with the worst crime known to the law. Having been acquitted by the jury, he claims, of course, to stand an innocent man before the world. The Westland police, having amongst them some of the smartest officers in the colony, are beaten; and now, who did murder Daniels is a question that will never probably be solved. Certainly, Ryan can never again be tried upon the charge, as our English law allows no case to be heard a second time in which a prisoner has been tried and acquitted. The Scottish law has a middle verdict between "guilty" and "not guilty," viz., "not proven," which leaves it open for the case to be tried again should fresh evidence arise. It is in such cases as that of Ryan's, where there is so great a difficulty in sheeting home a charge at once, that this element of Scottish law becomes a highly useful one. Justice is often lame, and slowly comes to the front, and a year or two may evolve such information as cannot be obtained immediately, after the perpetration of a crime. If Daniels were murdered by one of the "birds of passage" who went to the Kumara during the rush (and that was the theory of the defence), it will be almost impossible to discover the perpetrator of the crime now. As we have said, the cost of the case to the country has been enormous, witnesses having been taken from Dunedin to Hokitika at a great cost; besides the heavy legal expenses. It cannot be much less than £4000, as the first trial before the Supreme Court cost about £2000, so we were informed on good authority. -Evening Post, 8/6/1878.
Mr Thomas Ryan, who was tried on a charge of murdering Daniels at Kumara, is keeping himself well before the public. A Wellington correspondent of the Dunedin Age telegraphs as follows respecting him: — Detective Farrell is pursued like some of the old Greek worthies by a fury in the shape of ex-Sergeant Ryan, who was tried in Dunedin some years ago for attempting to murder Farrell, owing to a scandal about Farrell's wife. Ryan was since tried for murder at Kumara, on the West Coast but escaped the gallows, after a long fight. Immediately after leaving gaol he came to Wellington, where Farrell is. He follows Farrell like his shadow, but never speaks to him. Farrell went to Wanganui, and Ryan also, Farrell went to Patea, and thither Ryan went also. Farrell came back to Wellington, and so did Ryan. Farrell proceeded to Auckland, and Ryan was a passenger by the same steamer. Ryan told a friend of mine that Farrell had wounded himself with a pistol in Dunedin in order to get him hanged for trying to murder him; Farrell had worked against him secretly when he was accused of murder on the West Coast. Ryan swore he would haunt Farrell to the brink of the grave. Night and day he is found hovering about Farrell as if awaiting a favourable opportunity to execute some terrible deed of vengeance on him, but being well up in the law, he never brings himself within the reach of it. -West Coast Times, 1/4/1879.
HUNTING DOWN A DETECTIVE.
It will be remembered, says a contemporary, that some years ago there were in Dunedin two sergeants of police — one named Farrell, and the other Ryan. Some scandal occurred concerning Farrell’s wife and Ryan. A quarrel ensued, and a shot was fired. Ryan stood his trial for attempting to murder Farrell, but was acquitted by a jury of his own countrymen. Since that time Ryan was tried for murder on the West Coast ; but again he was acquitted. When Farrell (now a detective) was in Wellington a short time ago, Ryan suddenly appeared on the scene. He followed Farrell wherever that astute officer went. Detective Farrell, from no apparent cause, left for Wanganui. It is said that he asked to he removed in order to escape the presence of his persecutor. But to Wanganui Ryan followed him. There he hunted him like a fate. Farrell went up country; Ryan went too. Farrell came back to Wellington; so did Ryan. Then Farrell went away to Auckland, where he now is; but Ryan is there too. A friend of Farrell’s interviewed Ryan one day, and asked him why he followed Farrell. Ryan replied “that he believed Farrell had shot himself at Dunedin years ago in order to get him hanged for murder, and that he would in revenge hunt him to the brink of the grave.” This grim story reminds one of Tom Hood’s “Dream of Eugene Arm.” Again one sees Eugene starting up with horror, and exclaiming —
“ But still no sleep for the restless clay, Will wave or mould allow,
The horrid thing pursues me still; It stands before me now!” -Dunstan Times, 2/5/1879.
The coverage of Ryan's murder trial in Hokitika mentions him carrying a portrait of Farrell in a locket. This is strange. It is also strange that Ryan believed that Farrell intended to fake his own murder attempt to get him hanged. Having Ryan put away for attempted murder would suit a mind like Farrell's well. As the following story shows, Farrell was not above abusing his position and the success rate he enjoyed. It was not the only "exceeding of his authority" for which he was criticised. Then, as now, a policeman giving evidence in court could get away with a lie, as he had the badge and was part of the system. But he didn't always get away with it.
POLICE COURT. — Yesterday.
(Before H, Kenrick, Esq., R.M.)
THE CASE OF DETECTIVE FARRELL.
James Farrell was charged with unlawfully assaulting William Fraser on the 15th inst. Mr Miller appeared for the plaintiff and Mr Laishley for the defence, Defendant pleaded 'not guilty.'
Witnesses having been ordered out of Court, Mr Miller referred to the correspondence which had appeared in the papers relative to this case, and trusted it would be decided without regard either to that on the one hand or to the consequences an adverse decision might have on defendant's position. Plaintiff, with his mates, had obtained their cheques and came to knock them down. He got drunk, and this very fact told against Farrell, as it became his duty to protect plaintiff. The detective had been making inquiries regarding these men, who, finding they were dogged, asked Farrell to explain and give an apology. He would prove that the men came to the office on the invitation of Farrell to receive an apology. Fraser, went in after Farrell, and, immediately, Farrell locked the door, keeping the McIsaacs outside. The evidence would show that in the room Fraser was brutally ill-treated. His appearance even then would show how he was treated. The defence would probably be that Farrell did not commit the offence, or did so in self-defence This cannot be true in the first place, and, next, the men came at Farrell's invitation. A constable is bound to put up with a great deal more than ordinary men, and must not use violence till pushed to self-defence. It was the special duty of a constable to keep the peace and not to break it. He had no doubt when the facts were all placed before the Court it would see that a cruel and brutal assault had been committed, and that it would have taken very little more to have polished off his client altogether. He called —
William Fraser, bushman, working at Tairua bush, who said before the date in question he had been a week in town, boozing a little. Was at Mulligan's at about half-past 3 on the 15th. On coming out saw the defendant. The two McIsaacs were with him; they were his mates. Farrell came along and stood listening. He felt annoyed at being dogged about and called upon Farrell to give an explanation; which he declined to do. Told him if he followed us any further that "I would put my fist in his eye." Farrell then said, "If you like to call at my office I'll give you an apology." He said this in the presence of three of us, and the four went to the police station, the detective leading the way, witness following, and the McIsaacs were behind. He opened the office door, and asked me to walk in. Witness did so thinking the others would follow. He jumped in, slammed the door, put the bar up, and pulled down the blind. Both took seats and sat for a minute looking at each other. He then said, "Pull off your coat and I will give you an apology." That was all witness went for. Farrell, pulled off his coat, and what followed he didn't know. He got stunned the first or second blow. Farrell had his hand round witness' neck and held him by the whiskers and kept punching away. Witness said "That's enough," but he still kept punching. Asked him, "Did he want to kill a man altogether." Then Farrell let him go. By that time his mate had smashed the window. Farrell then produced a bucket of water and broom and told him to clear up the blood from the floor. Refused. Threatened to make him a prisoner if he did not, and he then swilled the room. Told witness to take his coat and clear out. There was a great quantity of blood. Washed his face in the yard— did it more than once. His left eye was completely blind, and could only see a little with the other. He remained in a darkened room for three days. Till yesterday had not been out at all. This was by the doctor's orders, The marks on his face were the remains of the assault, and he was suffering from the effects.
By Mr Laishley: He commenced conversation with Farrell and told him he would put his fist in his face, It was not a fact that one of his mates attempted to strike the detective. He did not threaten to hammer Farrell. He threatened him if he continued to follow him. Did not remember Farrell saying, "I've given you no offence," or that he said "I'll give no apology in the street." He denied that he knocked Farrell down in the chair. It all took place in less than 10 minutes. The door was shut. He did not call out to his mates. He swore that Farrell barred the door and was not aware there was no bar. When he said barred he meant bolted. The door was fastened. He saw no sticks in the room.
By the Court: Had been drinking two or three days beforehand. He was sober enough to remember what took place. Expected Farrell to say he was not looking after us. Did not go to fight, only expected an explanation. Farrell told him to walk in. The blinds were pulled down; his mates would witness that, (Mr Laishley: That is merely hearsay). Could not say himself. Had no doubt about the bar or bolt being drawn. He believed he sat down first, and when he had done so Farrell said, "Pull off your coat." He then got up and did so. Couldn't recollect who struck the first blow.
Mr Laishley asked the Bench, before giving decision, to examine the door.
John McIsaacs deposed that, at Mulligan's Corner, Fraser and the defendant commenced talking together, Fraser telling him he was annoyed at being followed about. Farrell said, "Come to my office, and I will give you an explanation." No one attempted to strike Farrell. Did not hear anyone threaten to hammer Farrell. Farrell and Fraser went to the Police Station together, and he and his brother followed a few paces behind. At Farrell's quarters the two went in, and he heard the key turn in the door. He knew nothing of what took place inside. His brother tried to burst open the door, and not succeeding, broke the window. He and his brother were then locked up. Did not get another apology. (Laughter.) Saw Fraser at 10 o'clock that night. He was in a poor state. His face was so swollen that he scarcely know him. He could scarcely see. They went to the office at Farrell's invitation. He did not go there with the intention of fighting.
By Mr Laishley: Pleaded guilty in Court to being drunk at that time. Recollected what he stated, Fraser was the first to go to Farrell, and demand an apology. Was close to Fraser, sufficiently near to hear. Did not hear Fraser say, "If you dog me further, I will put my I fist in your eye." Neither he nor his brother complained to the police. Did not hear anything going on in the room. Witness was two or three paces from the door, but his brother was nearer. Fraser was not sober, but he could walk straight and speak distinctly. Did not hear all that took place. Farrell and Fraser walked to the station side by side. Was clear that he heard the key turn in the door.
By the Court: He knew of the door being locked by hearing the key turned. Never told Fraser he had seen the blind pulled down. Witness was clear he heard the key turned himself.
Frank McIsaacs deposed he did not recollect seeing Farrell previously that day. He, his brother, and Fraser went in, had a drink, came out, and were talking private business when Farrell came up and stood beside them at the corner. There was no threat used as far as he could recollect. Fraser walked into the office first, Farrell afterwards. Witness heard a bolt go, or the grating of a key in the door — he was sure the door was locked. He tried the door to see what was going on, or rescue his mate, with his shoulder, but it would not go. They were not very long there he knew. Next tried to go in through the window. Eventually managed to get into the lock-up. Could not see through the window, as there was a blind down. Next morning saw, Fraser at Barty's. Have known him ten years, and would scarcely have known him.
By Mr Laishley: Pleaded guilty of drunkenness on this occasion. Was with Fraser all day, but had not seen Farrell before. The police took witness into custody for breaking the window. Did not tell the police why he broke the window; had not time to toll the police anything. He pushed the door as hard as lay in his power. Did not know the door was of the most ricketty description.
To the Bench: Had been drinking for some days. Simply wanted to be present at the apology, but had no idea what form it was taking. Must have heard the struggle going on inside.
Dr Huxtable deposed to being called in on Monday evening to see Fraser. His face was swollen, especially about the eyes and nose. There were bruises all over the face, one behind the ear, and a skin cut near the nose about an inch long. Both eyes were blackened, and the nose stuffed up with blood. Apparently he had not bled to any great extent. The opinion he expressed, at the time, was that Fraser had had a severe pounding in the face. He was confined to the room five or six days in consequence. On the left side of the face some of the whiskers were pulled out.
Sam Driver deposed that on Monday, the 15th, he was in the police office on business. Heard the breaking of glass. Saw the McIsaacs breaking the windows, and their arrest. Saw Constable Herbert go to Farrell's office and try the knob of the door. Finding it fastened, he tried to burst it, but was unsuccessful. In a very short time after the door opened, and Farrell and Fraser came out. The first thing that caught his attention was Farrell's hand covered with blood and his shirt spattered, and the bad state of Fraser. Fraser looked as if he had been beaten badly, one eye was completely closed. Fraser put up his hands to his hands to his face and pulled out a handful of his whiskers. He heard Farrell say, "I met the men down town and they asked for an explanation for making inquiries relative to the late robbery. I said to them, 'Come to my office; I will give you one.' They came down and I told him to take his coat off and I would give him one. I gave it to him." He said this to a number of persons in the yard. The parties in the case are strangers to witness.
By Mr Laishley — Farrell did not seem to be angry.
By the Bench — Farrell's coat was off. Had not subscribed towards this prosecution, nor had any intention of doing so.
W. J. Speight deposed that he recollected being in the Court yard after lunch about 3 o'clock. Had known Fraser for some years; he came out in the vessel with him from England. Saw Farrell and Fraser coming out of the room, Fraser being first, his coat and hat off. His eyes were bunged up, and the blood was streaming from the left side of his face in a perfect torrent. The police assisted him to wash his face. Farrell had the appearance of a man who had just killed a pig or sheep. Farrell was livid with passion or excitement — he was panting. If Driver said Farrell did not appear angry there was a strange discrepancy between his evidence and witness'. Witness was editor of the Advertiser, and that journal expressed a very mild opinion on the affair. Fraser's coat and hat were lying in the yard as if they had been placed there before the affair.
This closed the plaintiff's case. Mr Laishley had no desire to call undue attention to the punishment which, if found guilty, would fall upon his client. The evidence, however, should be clear to convict him. He would not say the witnesses had committed perjury, but there was a strange contradiction among them. The feeling which always existed against the police had, he thought, much to do with the evidence given. He argued that the information laid was bad, as it did not give specific details of the assault, and quoted authorities in support.
The Bench held the information clear enough, and Mr Laishley continued: Fraser admitted he was the aggressive party, and had told Farrell that if he continued to dog him he would put his fist in his eye. This showed that Fraser sought to make the quarrel, and it was quite clear Farrell had no spleen against Fraser. Farrell had agreed to give an apology if it could be shown how he had offended Fraser, and for that purpose they had gone to Farrell's room. The prosecution not being prepared to swear that he did not strike the first blow, and defendant stating that he did was sufficient proof that Fraser was the aggressing party, Farrell acting in defence. Counsel then gave a summary of the evidence he intended to adduce, and quoted the law bearing upon self-defence, which stated that a man assaulted might retaliate. On this ground he claimed that the charge should be dismissed, The statement by McIsaacs, that he could not force the door, was flimsy — there was no doubt that a boy could burst it. The fact was, the McIsaacs were drunk, and their evidence was of little use. Another peculiar circumstance was Fraser made no outcry while in the room, showing that he felt he was getting his deserts in a fight brought on by himself. Farrell had been 36 years in the force, and was not, therefore, likely to commit an assault. The witnesses for the prosecution were evidently eager to bolster up the case, and yet they differed materially. Driver saying that Farrell, when he came out of the room, did not appear to be angry, while Speight says he was livid with passion or excitement. There must be falsehood in one of these statements.
The Bench: Not necessarily. It was only a matter of individual opinion.
James Farrell was called, and deposed that on Sunday week he was making inquiries concerning the robbery at the Lady Bowen Hotel. Suspicion rested on a certain shoemaker acquainted with the McIsaacs, and he went to Barty's Hotel several times to make inquiries relative to him, for instance, what money he had been spending, but never spoke to Fraser, whom he saw twice, and did not know. He had been informed on Sunday evening that they wanted to hammer him. Sergeant O'Grady, on Monday morning, told him it would be well to avoid them if possible, as they had been using threats. He replied he would do his duty. On Monday, afternoon when near Mulligan's Hotel with a man named McConnell, the smaller one of the McIsaacs, Francis, came up, and, addressing him, asked, "Why are you dogging us." He appeared drunk and excited. He replied, "I am not; I don't know you, and even if I was I would only be doing my duty." McIsaacs said, "If you don't apologise I will hammer you." John, who seemed a sensible man, kept his brother's hands down, and told him not to strike, and kept between us. Fraser then advanced and said, "You have been inquiring for me also." "Who are you?" I said, "I don't know you." He replied, "You asked Mr Barty who was that man with the long coat?" I denied this, and he said, "You are a liar." I said, "Suppose I did, did I exceed my duty?" He then said, "If you don't apologise I will I hammer you." I answered, "You had better not touch me; keep your hands off." Francis McIsaacs replied, "This is the Queen's highway. We have as much right here as you." Fraser said, "If you do not apologise I will put my fist in your eye." I replied, "Why do you interfere? I have nothing to do with you." I consented to apologise if they showed where I had offended, Fraser and I came down the back street, in the back way. I unlocked the door, and we both went in. I closed the door to. I did not lock it. Your Worship can see there is no bolt upon it; I put my stick behind the door, and sat down in my chair to see what this man had to complain of. Fraser threw his hat and coat in front of me before I had any idea of what he was at. He struck me a blow in the mouth. I fell, the chair fell over me, and he came on the top of my. My arm was cut, and blood came from it. I called out; "police, police," two or three times, and caught Fraser by the whiskers in raising myself from the ground. When I got up, the man struck at my face. I warded off the blow, and struck him, I think, on the nose, and a few blows followed. Fraser then said, "That will do, I've had enough," and there was an end of it. When I got up I took off my coat, and said, "If that is your game, let us have it fair." When going out he took my hat and I called him back for it. This was all the washing up amounted to. Mr Speight said that I looked like a pig on coming out. I think I looked like a man instead.
[The Bench; Mr Speight said "Like a man who had killed a pig."]
By Mr Laishley: Fraser, in getting up, said, "It is something to be beaten by a friendly foe." I did not put the window blind down.
By Mr Miller: Fraser was not drunk. The reason why he shut the door on Fraser alone was because it was he who wanted the apology. He did not give Fraser in charge because he felt able to defend himself without that. Fraser did not say, "Don't kill a man altogether." Made no such remark as Mr Driver states on coming out.
By the Bench: Invited him down as I did not care to argue with him in a crowd. Have been 36 years in the force.
Sergeant McGrath deposed that he had known Detective Farrell off and on for 10 years. Took him to be a man of peaceable temperament and not likely to assault a man without being first attacked. The door in Farrell's room was in a very dilapidated condition. Knew nothing of the inside fastening. There would be no difficulty in breaking the panels; he could do it with one hand. He saw Fraser when he came out, who was "looking for the bloke who struck him." No complaint was made by Fraser or his mates to him.
By Mr Miller: Knew Mr Farrell well over four years when stationed with him at Wellington. Knew of his getting into one scrape there, but that had nothing to do with his temper. Knew he was peaceful because he lived with him some years in Wellington. Saw Fraser come out of Farrell's room; three constables were then in the yard. Herbert were there before himself. He could not tell whether Fraser was drunk or sober.
By the Court: The door was fast.
Mr Rankin, telegraphist, deposed that he heard the cry of "Police," two or three times. He saw a policeman in private clothes try Farrell's door; it was fast. As Fraser went away he looked sobered down.
Mr N. Kenny deposed that he had been a sub-inspector in A.C. Force. (Armed Constabulary) Farrell had been under him about two years or more. Did not think him a man likely to assault another without being grossly provoked. Had known him exercise great self-command. He might not show his failings to me.
By Mr Laishley: Had made it his business to study the disposition of the men under his command. He was quite satisfied with his observations of Farrell.
At the desire of the Bench, Constable Herbert was called to speak to the state of the door in Farrell's office. He did not consider it a strong or secure door. He did not think he had tried the door, but wouldn't contradict the witness who said he had done so. He asked Farrell if Fraser was to be detained, and the former replied "No."
Mr Kenrick said it had been stated that this should have been a police investigation, and while it had been brought before him in the usual way, he felt bound to take cognizance of the fact that accused was a police officer, for what would have been legitimate resistance from any one else in a police officer became aggression. There were really two charges — seducing Fraser into his room with intent to ill- treat him there, and, second, that he carried what took place there in self-defence into an unjustifiable assault. His Worship commented on the evidence which had been given in support of and against these charges, and hold that there was no wrong intention shown in taking Fraser to his room. In the second division of the charge the defendant was not justified in pushing his advantage to the utmost, as he was bound to say he had done. The defendant admitted having lost his temper. He had taken the law into his own hands and committed an assault. As an officer of police he had no right to do so. He believed the aggressor in the first instance was Fraser. There had been no intention to seduce him into a trap, but Farrell had lost his temper and forgotten his official character. He should inflict a penalty of £5 and costs, which would virtually be a fine of £10, the highest the law allowed.
In reply to Mr Laishley, the Court said he thought the infliction of the penalty would fully meet the ends of justice, and if inquiry were made of him would be prepared to state so. -Thames Advertiser, 24/5/1882.
TELEGRAMS.
[PER PRESS ASSOCIATION.]
Dismissed.
Auckland, To-day.
The Government have dismissed First Class Detective Farrell for fighting with a civilian at the Thames. Farrell had been a policeman for 34 years. -Ashburton Guardian, 2/6/1882.
Regarding Ryan's belief that Farrell had shot himself to fabricate a case against his marital rival, there is only one conclusion that can be reached: one of the two was in some way unhinged, either Farrell in 1873 or Ryan in the years later.
Dr Hocken's opinion that Farrell's wound could not be self-inflicted makes Ryan's claim an implausible but not impossible. Personally, I would not put it past Farrell to have managed to fool Dr Hocken - but perhaps that is wishful thinking and love of the story on my part.
A petition to reinstate Farrell as detective was considered by the Legislature but was unsuccessful. An Otago Witness story in 1883 places him as a Sergeant of police in Fiji, referring to him as "ex- Sergeant." In 1886 there was a reduction in police numbers in Fiji and Farrell returned to Wellington. After that year, he disappears from the public record.
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