A SINISTER NEXUS
“After he [Freeman] was whipped the second time, he came into my office where I was,— crying; said he had been flogged severely; that a hole had been cut between his ribs, so that he could lay the end of his fingers in it. He did not appear to be deaf at the time. He said the flogging pained him so in the night that he could not sleep. His capacity was very limited.”- William P. Smith (foreman) The Report of the Trial of William Freeman
When Bill Freeman wasn’t ploughing fields, sawing wood, driving cows, toting laundry or attending the Wyatt trial, he was obsessing over getting paid for the five years he’d unjustly spent in prison. That “monomaniacal” thought process that Seward, and his expert witnesses would refer to in the Wyatt trial, was but a solitary symptom, in a myriad of conditions used to describe the “insane” individual in the 1840’s. Mad, lunatic, crazy, brute, imbecile, ignorant, feeble, and fool were a few of the others. This was the difficulty Henry Seward faced in The People vs.Wyatt—definition. Before proof of insanity could sufficiently be provided, the parties (lawyers and judge) had to agree upon what exactly was being proven. How does one legally define “insanity?”
I will defer to the doctors and lawyers for variants on the 1843 English court case of McNaughton (M’Naghten) and all other legal precedent. I’m an empty briefcase lawyer, clearly not qualified. As I understand it, McNaughton rules presume we are all sane, until proven otherwise. My approach will be more intuitive, a panorama painted on mattress ticking, lit by candlelight and stitched with cat gut thread. I think we are all crazy until proven otherwise.
William Freeman left the courthouse not remembering much of what had just taken place over the weeks he’d sat twitching and sweating in the Auburn courtroom. He and Henry Wyatt had exchanged a passing glance when Henry turned around in his chair, but that was it. If Henry Wyatt, or the sheriff (who Bill had also gone to for payment) weren’t going to help him, then he felt he had to do something himself. First he needed a weapon.
There was no lack of blacksmiths in Auburn in 1846. If one smith couldn’t make what you wanted, you just went down the street to the next one. Tensile steel was too expense for most, so it would be used sparingly on the edge of an ax or the cutting blade of a knife, or shears. The body of the implement would remain constructed out of cheap, brittle pig iron. That’s why the tip of Henry Wyatt’s shears broke off inside James Gordon’s belly when he hit the backbone—too much iron, not enough steel. William Freeman had never owned a decent knife. After five years of abuse in Auburn Prison, he was determined to always have a sharp edge at his disposal; just in case.
Freeman shuffled down the street, mumbling, and fingering the few loose coins in his dirty pocket. The first blacksmith shop he went in was busy; but the smith eventually looked around and saw Bill standing there. The nervous Freeman tried to explain what he wanted, picking up a piece of strap iron and tracing the outline of a knife with his finger. The proprietor grabbed a piece of chalk from his table, made a quick sketch and asked if he wanted a butcher knife or “a sticking knife for killing hogs, with an edge on both sides?”
Bill shook his head. He didn’t know what he wanted. Frustrated, the smith tossed him the chalk and a flat piece of wood to trace what he had in mind. Then he handed him a small whittling knife. “Show me.” the smithy said. ”Going to kill somebody ain’t you?” he joked with a smile. Bill just stood there, increasingly agitated with the nosey blacksmith. Then he tossed the chalk and board on the bench and walked home in disgust. He’d find another blacksmith to do the job.
A week later, after haggling over price with a second blacksmith, Bill finally had two good knives in his possession, a long handled, double edged spear “hog sticker,” and a heavy, “black handled butcher knife,” (much like the one Jason Osterhout held to his wife’s throat as he raped her.) The spearhead was fabricated from a large, heavy, iron file. A discarded ash axe handle was attached to the double edged file blade at no extra charge. William Freeman was now in business…whatever that business was to be.
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