The McCue murder :: :: University of Virginia Library

Except for the few pages in regard to Lester Marshall, who was, for
several hours, under suspicion, and who charges conspiracy to have
him sacrificed to secure McCue's safety, this narrative has been confined
to what transpired before the coroner's jury and later before the
petit jury.

The Commonwealth's theory was that when Mr. and Mrs. McCue
met at the tea table on the evening of the murder a quarrel ensued
and the husband was so exasperated that he walked the porch afterwards
and, with an oath, declared that he was not going to stand it
any longer; that Mrs. McCue went to and returned from church depressed
by the feeling that the quarrel was only suspended, and that it
would be renewed with results she feared to contemplate; that it was
resumed as soon as husband and wife were at home, before they had
gone to their bed-chamber, and continued while they were preparing
to retire; that a fight occurred, during which Mrs. McCue was bludgeoned
and choked, a gurgling sound accompanying her maltreatment;
that fleeing to the bath-room the poor little woman, in piteous helplessness,
begged for her life, and that a gun-shot, delivered within a
foot of her breast, preceded by a despairing scream, ended all for her
in this world.

How, to a certain extent, the proof depended on the eldest son of
the accused, and to a larger degree, upon his stable boy, the reader
knows. It is a part of the story of the case in court that these witnesses
did not meet the anticipations of the prosecution, and left the
narrative without the expected symmetry.

The evidence on the subject of the alleged jealousy of Mrs. McCue
and the insinuated immoral life of her husband has been given, and
those who read must judge how far it goes to proving the presence of
an adequate motive for the commission of the crime by the husband.

This was not, however, held by the prosecution as the real motive
or reason for the crime, but only the cause whose effect—the beating,

choking, and disfiguring of the wife by her natural protector—provided
the motive; that is, the necessity for the concealment of his conduct
if he was to maintain his place in the esteem of his neighbors.

McCue, in his statement to the coroner's jury, thinks he called up
his brother, Dr. McCue, first, and that he next 'phoned to the residence
of Mr. T. J. Williams, requesting him, his wife, and his daughter, Mrs.
Munson, to come to his house at once. He said he 'phoned also to the
police.

The prosecution contended that he never telephoned to anyone that
night except to those at the residence of Mr. Williams. The two telephone
operators who had charge that night of the board on which was
Samuel McCue's number gave their testimony, the following report
which affords a fair opportunity to understand its importance.

Miss Virginia Bragg was the first of the operators to testify. She
said the accused rang for the Williams' residence, and witness at first
said "Busy," whereupon accused said, "Oh, don't tell me that; I think
some one has shot and killed Fannie and is in my house now."

Miss Bragg afterwards rang for police; told them to go to McCue
house. This was the first message from the McCue house. Witness was
on duty from 6 o'clock until morning. No 'phone message from Sam McCue
for his brother, Dr. McCue. Positive about that; would remember
it, certainly ten minutes back. Knows Mr. McCue's voice. He called
for the Williams.

Miss Bragg explained her "board" and said she would have received
any call for Dr. McCue's residence that night.

McCue's first remark was "Give me some one"—rather an unusual request.
Then he said, Mrs. T. J. Williams' residence. Informed that
'phone was in use, he said, "Oh, don't tell me; some one is in the house,
etc."

Miss Bragg admitted she was excited on that night, but said she was
not confused. "We are used to excitement. I knew what I was about."
Witness left room after calling the police.

Miss Bragg's testimony was more positive before the petit than it
had been before the coroner's jury. On the former occasion she said,
in answer to a question of Dr. McCue, that she "might have transmitted
the message without noticing it particularly."

Miss Bragg left her board for a few minutes that night, and Miss
Lilian Busic took her place. She said there was no call from Sam
McCue to Dr. McCue. "I am certain," said the witness, positively.

Dr. McCue testified that he had received the message over the 'phone;
his wife and another swore that they had heard the 'phone bell ring and
saw the physician go toward it and heard him answer "All right."

The defense's theory of the crime was that the murderer was an outsider,

moved to the deed by desire for revenge, or by the hope of
booty. Accordingly, it was shown by evidence that two or more windows
were open, presumably left so by the culprit to facilitate his
escape. McCue's own declaration that he had seen his assailant, and
that he looked like a dirty white man, was given to the jury, not by
the accused, but by those to whom he had told his story. It was
partly to investigate this theory that the jury visited the McCue house
to satisfy itself that it was possible for a fugitive to escape from the
house through Ruby McCue's room across the porch roof to a tree that
stands on that side of the house, and thence to the ground. The prosecution
showed that a pot of ferns had stood for some time and was still
in this window on the morning following the murder, and that at that
time there were cobwebs for the space of some twelve inches on one
side of the opening. Witness also deposed that, while it was possible
for a man to reach this tree, neither the porch roof nor the tree afforded
any evidence that any one had escaped that way.

Among the unusual incidents of this sensational trial was the holding
of court, twice during its progress, in private residences; once in
the house in which the tragedy occurred, and later in the home of
Dr. F. C. McCue. None of the accessories of a complete court were
lacking. There were present in each instance, judge, jury, counsel,
clerk, sergeant, prisoner, and court stenographers. These, with the reporters,
constituted the full-fledged "residential tribunals."

It was six weeks after J. Samuel McCue had left his home under
arrest that he saw it again for the first time. He was the chief figure
in the little court assemblage that met in the McCue residence on the
afternoon of October 25th, for the purpose of viewing the scenes of
the tragedy. For hours before he had been sitting in a dusty, densely
packed court-room, listening to the evidence of the two physicians as
they related the gruesome story of his wife's murder and told of the
wounds and of the blood which had flowed from them. There had
lain, almost within his grasp, the bloody base-ball bat, the gun, the
bathroom rug, his own blood-stained and torn undershirt, and, most
terrible of all, the nightgown of his dead wife, a garment stiff with
blood, and so stained that it looked as if it had been dyed in maroon.

And yet, when the prisoner came face to face with a hundred and
one reminders of the wife whom he claims to have loved with a tender
devotion, witnessed the home in which as father and husband he must
have spent many happy hours, and heard the voices of the loved ones
from whom a cruel fate, or a just decree, was separating him, he
stood entirely unmoved. Not a single tear was shed and not a shade
of a shadow of emotion was evinced. For the most of the time, as
he went from room to room, when all others had removed their hats,

he stood with hands folded across his breast and his hat tilted back
on his head to the very verge of falling. He was jaunty, defiant—
quietly indifferent—but not emotioned. He saw again the bed-chamber
in which Fannie McCue received her first wounds, and heard unmoved
Captain Woods' invitation to the jury to look into the chiffonier
mirror and decide whether it was possible for the accused to have
seen through it the approach of "a dirty-looking white man." Down
the narrow hall—the pathway of the fleeing wife—he walked with
steady step and head erect, and looked again into the bathroom where
the body of the murdered woman a few short weeks before had lain,
but gave no sign of nervousness, of grief, or of regret. He viewed
more calmly than did the jurors from distant parts of the State, the
old-fashioned bed on which the body had been placed, and when he
had reluctantly gone to look upon it, preferring to remember "her as
when alive." This was the McCue of iron.

Another day, possibly the last on which he will look upon his home,
he went again with judge and jury to examine the avenues of escape
for the supposed burglar. Two trees—a locust by the kitchen porch
and a giant oak that stands north of the parlor—were the mute, unsworn
witnesses examined. The locust tree testified that a burglar
could have escaped by way of the back porch roof and its branches;
the oak stood out strong for the prosecution. On this occasion, although
the accused simply walked around the house, and heard the
rustle of the dead leaves under the great oak tree, he wiped a tear
from each eye. And, later, when the "movable court" stopped at the
residence of Dr. F. C. McCue to take the testimony of the latter's wife,
there was something in the scenes and incidents of the occasion, which
caused the prisoner to give way to grief. This was the McCue of tears
and tenderness.

Among the odds and ends of testimony which have not fitted into the
narrative previously must be listed some of McCue's life insurance
policies, which the defense introduced because Mrs. McCue was the
beneficiary of most of them. The prosecution took occasion to say
that the policies were useful as collateral.

First policy is for $15,000, dated March 15, 1904, payable to McCue's
estate. Northwestern Mutual Life, Milwaukee.

Second, Equitable Life, dated March 2, 1903, for $10,000; payable to
his wife. After three years the company will "make loans" on policy.

Third, New York Life Company, $10,000. October 16, 1893, payable
to Mrs. McCue.

Fourth, accident and health policy, Fidelity & Casualty Company,
$5,000, in favor of Mrs. McCue. This policy was good for $10,000 if
death occurred on a railroad.

All these policies were payable to the heirs, assigns, etc., of Mr.
McCue in the event of Mrs. McCue's death prior to that of the accused.

Travelers Insurance Company, Hartford, Conn., February 2, 1903, for
$20,000. Name of prisoner in this contract is written James S. McCue.
This policy has a loan value, and at any time assured could change
beneficiary.

Sixth, for $5,000, Life Insurance Company of Virginia, dated February
21, 1903. This policy also has a loan surrender value. It was
payable to wife of accused.

Seventh, Royal Arcanum benefit certificate, $3,000, dated April 10,
1896, in favor of Mrs. McCue. This policy could not be made payable
to any person but the assured's wife.

Eighth, Fidelity Mutual Life, Philadelphia, dated June 8, 1897, $10,000,
in favor of Mrs. McCue.

Mr. Lee here stated that there were one or two other policies, but
that he would not delay the court to consider them.

Whether the defense would put their client on the witness stand to
testify in his own behalf was a matter of uncertainty until his lawyers
announced that they had no more evidence to submit.

An interesting story got into circulation in some way, but has never
been confirmed. According to this rumor the prisoner was very
anxious to testify. His leading attorney, Mr. Lee, was opposed to his
doing so, while his colleagues sided with the accused. It was agreed
among the lawyers that they would privately hear McCue's version of
the matter, and that after he had finished his statement, Mr. Lee
should cross-question him for five minutes. The end of it all was that
the prisoner was not given the opportunity to contradict the damaging
evidence of John S. White, Ernest Crawford, and some others.