There
was great excitement in the little town of Mill Creek, Illinois, that afternoon
in 1845. Eighth Illinois circuit judge David Davis of Bloomingdale had just
arrived. As usual, he was accompanied by several circuit lawyers, including one
named Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln's presence added to the stir of excitement, for
Mill Creek's citizens had not forgotten the other times when he had come to
town with Judge Davis. And in addition to being an excellent lawyer, Abe
Lincoln told the funniest stories anyone had ever heard.
It
had been almost six months since the last court session in Mill Creek, and
there was quite an accumulation of cases to be tried. Old Thomas Jacobs was
suspected of setting fire to the blacksmith's shop. He and the blacksmith had
had words. Old Thomas had made some pretty dark threats, and that very night
the blacksmith's shop had burned to the ground. There were witnesses who said
that they had seen old Thomas there at the fire, laughing like anything and
slapping his knees.
Then
there was the fight at the tavern between Henry Whitney and Ebenezer Bates.
Whitney had finally pulled out his pistol and shot Ebenezer in cold blood. Some
said that Ebenezer had asked for it and that Whitney was only defending
himself. But others sided with Ebenezer and said it was murder, plain and
simple.
Perhaps
the most outstanding case was that of Jesse Adams. He had ridden into town one
day and gone straight up to the Mill Creek Bank, shoved his gun at the teller,
and demanded all the bank's cash. He'd managed to get about fifteen miles out
of town before the sheriff and his deputy caught up with him. And he had been
in the town jail ever since.
In
addition to these more spectacular cases there were the usual disputes over
property lines, debts and foreclosures, slander suits. And a man named Silas
Foster had been accused of stealing pigs.
The
announcement was made that court would convene the following week, and the
people brought in their legal business. The lawyers went to work on the cases
assigned to them. And when the time that had been announced arrived, the
circuit court convened.
The
whole town crowded into the courthouse, and during each recess could be heard
hotly discussing the pros and cons of each case. The lawyers examined and cross-examined
and called out objections at every opportunity. Abe Lincoln had a knack for
bringing the truth to light, and in the cases that he defended, even the
prosecuting attorney ended up admitting that he was right. As the people
listened to each case and heard the evidence for themselves, they were
convinced that justice was being dealt.
One
by one the cases were brought before the court. The juries withdrew to
deliberate, and a verdict was reached guilty or not guilty. As Judge Davis
sentenced those who had been found guilty, and acquitted those found innocent,
the town was satisfied.
The
last morning the judge and his lawyers were in town, there was a hanging. Henry
Whitney had been found guilty of murder. And the circuit judge and his company
moved on to the next town.
The
second part of this parable covers the same ground. Back up and start over,
please! Are you with me? This time, the story is:
The way it wasn't
There
was great excitement in the little town of Mill Creek, Illinois, that afternoon
in 1845. Eighth Illinois circuit judge David Davis of Bloomingdale had just
arrived, accompanied by Abe Lincoln and several other circuit lawyers. It has
been almost six months since the last court session in Mill Creek, and there
was quite an accumulation of cases to be tried.
Old
Thomas Jacobs was suspected of setting fire to the blacksmith's shop. There had
been a fight at the tavern between Henry Whitney and Ebenezer Bates, and
Ebenezer Bates was dead. Jesse Adams was in jail awaiting trial for bank
robbery. And there were the usual assortment of lesser disputes.
It
was announced that court would convene immediately. The whole town crowded into
the courthouse. Judge Davis banged his gavel on the desk and said, "Thomas
Jacobs, not guilty. Silas Foster, not guilty. Henry Whitney, guilty as charged,
to be hanged at sunrise. Jesse Adams, not guilty. Court is closed."
The
prosecuting attorney jumped to his feet. "You can't do that," he
cried. "Who do you think you are, anyway? You can't acquit these people
without a fair trial or sentence them before they're proven guilty."
The
town' s people sided with the prosecution. "He's right," they said.
"How does the judge know who's s guilty and who isn't?"
Abe
Lincoln raised his voice to be heard above the tumult. "Don't you people
trust the judge? The judge knows those who are his to acquit. He has been
keeping tabs on things while he has been back at Bloomingdale. He has kept
careful records. He has evidence, and he doesn't make mistakes.''
But
the people became even more upset. "The judge may have evidence, and he
may not,'' they said. "But we don't have evidence. It's not enough just to
claim to have evidence. The evidence must be examined openly before the
sentence is given. The whole court needs to see the evidence, not just the
judge."
The
circuit lawyers kept trying desperately to convince the people of Mill Creek
that the judge could be trusted. But the people insisted that trust had to be
based on an intelligent understanding of the reasons for the judge's decisions.
The
last morning the judge and his lawyers were in town, there was a hanging. It
was the judge who was hanged.
