University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER III.

A TANGLED WEB.

A coroner's jury was constituted, composed of Dr. W. D. Macon,
Coroner, William H. Wood, C. W. Hulfish, Charles G. Sinclair, J. A.
Gilmore, and W. G. Saltsman. Four of these gentlemen live on Park
Street, almost in a stone's throw of the McCue home.

The first sessions were held in secret in a room on the first floor while
the victim of the murder that was being investigated lay in her casket
in an upper room. Later sessions were held elsewhere, and, in response
to a very strong public sentiment, the taking of testimony was done
with open doors.

It was while the inquest was proceeding at his home that J. Samuel
McCue was called before it to tell what he knew.

Previous to the meeting of the jury McCue had given several different
versions of the affair to persons who had talked with him about the
affair. They are interesting. Perhaps his first statement was made to
his neighbor Mrs. Frank A. Massie, whose residence is across the street,
and who was among the first to reach the house. "A burglar has shot
and killed Fannie," he said, "and has escaped." Mrs. Massie: "What
is that on your face?" referring to what she describes as "a little
scraped place." McCue replied: "The rascal must have shot me, too."

Mrs. Massie said McCue walked up and down the hall holding his
head, and that, when his seventeen-year-old son, William, came in, he
said "your mother is dead. A burglar has killed her." William became
hysterical, and his father said to Mrs. Massie, "Yes, she is dead."

D. C. Grady, a policeman of the city, who was possibly the first person
to arrive on the scene of the murder, after Dr. F. C. McCue, testified
that McCue told him some one had nearly killed him and had probably
killed Fannie; complained of his head and chest hurting, and said he
did not know who had done the deed.

"I began a search of the house," said Grady, "I went later to the
bathroom. The body of Mrs. McCue was on the rug. Mr. McCue came
to the bathroom door, and Dr. McCue said, `She is dead.' "

"Sam McCue said: `My God, my Maker, who could have had enough
against me to do me this way and to kill my wife.'

"As I entered the house Mr. McCue was standing near the 'phone.
I stayed in the house until I searched it completely. I was in the
room when Willie came in and his father told him his mother was dead.
Both cried a great deal.

"The accused said he was undressing when he heard a rattling and
looked around. He saw a dirty, greasy man as if a railroad man. He
reached for his gun, but the man got hold of him before he got the
gun or got it in position. They had a tussle before he (McCue) was
knocked out.

"Mr. McCue said his wife was in the room when the man came in."

Judge R. T. W. Duke saw the husband a short time after the death
of Mrs. McCue; probably only a few minutes had elapsed. The Judge
told of the interview:

"I reside diagonally across the street from the residence of Mr. McCue.
I had gone to my brother's house in the country that afternoon and
arrived home about 9 o'clock at night. Soon after reaching home, I
went to my library and read about five minutes when the 'phone rang
and I heard of the tragedy.

"I grabbed my pistol and ran to the McCue house, rushed up stairs
into a room and saw Mr. McCue lying on the sofa. Willie was kneeling
by him and was very hysterical.

"I asked Mr. McCue what had happened. He said he and his wife had
been to church and incidentally referred to the sermon. On arriving
home he said he heard a noise in the hall and went out and grappled
with a man. He broke away from the man and went and got his gun.
As he returned with the gun the man knocked him down and got the
gun. I advised that Mr. McCue take some morphia. He emphatically
refused to take it and told us to go and look after his poor wife. I
went to see his wife and found her body on the bed. One glance was
sufficient.

"I then returned to where Mr. McCue was. He was lying on a sofa.
He rolled off the sofa and as he did so, I noticed blood on the sleeve of
his undershirt. I got to the house between 9:30 and 10 o'clock. Mr.
McCue was perfectly rational. His pulse was beating rapidly, but he
was rational. He was not as excited as I was. He was not very excited.

"I was very much surprised that Mr. McCue should have referred to a
portion of Dr. G. L. Petrie's sermon that night."

Mr. Marshall Dinwiddie, who lives on Park Street, a little farther
out than Judge Duke, reached the McCue house at 11:30—about two
hours after the murder—accompanied by Mrs. Dinwiddie. Samuel
McCue was, according to the Dinwiddie's statement, lying on a sofa
suffering from a lick on the head. He said some one had come into his
room, knocked him senseless, and shot his wife. He said he was in front

of a chiffonier and his wife near a bureau; that he tried to get his gun
out of the case, when the man knocked him senseless and took the gun.

To Mr. George L. Mason he gave another account. "When I was talking
with Mr. McCue," said Mr. Mason, "he told me that his wife was
prepared for bed, and he had on his under shirt. The lights were turned
low and he heard a sound like a click, and turned and saw a man; he
went to his chiffonier where he kept his pistol, the same place where
he kept his collars and cuffs. His pistol had been removed. Then he
reached for the gun which was in the corner. When he got the gun
he was struck with a bat or some object, and he knew nothing after
that."

Mr. F. Berger Moran was his nearest neighbor—a narrow alley
separating their premises. He had known McCue for twenty years, and
when he was told something had happened at his home, he went over
at once. "I asked him how it had occurred," said Mr. Moran. "He was
lying on a sofa and said he did not wish to be disturbed. He was
morose and in a bad humor."

The following morning Mr. George Perkins, City Counsel and a distinguished
member of the Charlottesville bar, called to see McCue.
Mr. Mason, whose story of his interview with Mr. McCue has been
given, was present, and from his report of what took place—a report
made on oath—McCue told Mr. Perkins little more than he communicated
to Mr. Moran. "Mr. Perkins asked him about the thing," said
Mr. Mason, "and shook hands with him. He asked him if he knew
much about it, and he did not seem to know much. He asked him
if he was struck with a bat, and he said he did not know, he could
not remember. He then asked him if he was struck with a gun, he said
he could not remember."

McCue was more communicative later, when talking to William
Hurley, a colored man whom he had frequently employed to care for
his stock. "I saw Mr. McCue in the afternoon," said the witness. "He
said some one had come in his house and killed his wife, and nearly
killed him. He said he saw a man in the mirror as he (McCue) was
standing in front taking the buttons out of his shirt—that his wife
was then in the bath-room. He then went and got his gun, put two
shells in it and started to the door; when he got to the door he was
struck and knocked senseless. The man was a dirty, greasy looking
white man, he said."

It will be interesting to compare these statements with the history
McCue gave the coroner's jury of what took place between the closing
of his door as he and his wife crossed the threshold of their home,
after they had been to church, and the arrival of his brother, Dr. Frank
C. McCue. This was the only statement made by McCue under oath,
as he did not go on the stand in the trial:

"Mrs. McCue and I went to the Presbyterian Church last night; got
out about 9 o'clock, I suppose. We came on back and walked along with
several people. We saw Uncle Marshall Dinwiddie standing a short distance
beyond our front gate and I remember he stopped near our gate
or a little beyond it.

"I asked him to come in, and he said he would have to go on, that
his wife was not well, I think. We came on up; I think I found the
front door unlocked. When we went to church we left William here;
he was reading at the bureau. I asked him if he did not want to go to
church. He said that he was going to pay a call. He said when he left
he would turn down the gas. It was turned down when we came back.

"I picked up a paper, reading the last Council proceedings, and I
think Mrs. McCue was undressing in the meantime, and talking about
the affair. She laid her clothes on a chair. I had gone over to my
chiffonier and took my coat off and my collar and my negligee shirt.

"I was standing at my buffet and I noticed some figure moving toward
me, I think I rushed over towards the gun which stands in the corner—
we keep it there—and that is about all I remember. I think I must
have been unconscious after that. He and I had a scuffle. I am pretty
positive he was a white man, a kind of dirty white man. I think his
beard was out a little."

In answer to questions Mr. McCue said:

"He probably had a mustache. My recollection is that his clothes
were rather of a dark hue. I could not say which door he came through
for my back must have been to the door. It seems to me I heard a
sound, when he came in, some sound of a click like. I do not know how
long after this sound before he came in. Do not know if he had anything
in his hand but possibly he did. I am sure the base-ball bat was
not in the room when I left for church."

Q. When you last remember what was Mrs. McCue doing?

A. She was over here at the bureau, and I was undressing at my
chiffonier.

Q. Was she standing or sitting down when the man came in?

A. I could not say.

Q. You don't remember when she was attacked?

A. No; I must have been unconscious.

Q. When you came too, what did you do?

A. I looked around and I could not see good, I was dazed; everything
misty before me; I do not know how I got down stairs; whether I
walked or fell down the stairs, I don't know which, and I think I
called Frank the first thing; called him up over the 'phone. I did not
see Fannie. Afterwards I 'phoned for Mr. T. J. Williams, Miss Lacy
Williams and her mother, and told them to come down here; that some
one had knocked me down and probably killed Mrs. McCue. I did not

see her (Fannie) anywhere. It looked smoky in the hall. Then I
went and called the boy, John Perry.

The public was watching developments, taking note of these variations
in McCue's narratives, and growing more and more restless at the
deliberate methods—very proper ones though they were—which
characterized the investigation of the coroner's jury.

The doctors had been busy studying the wounds on the body of the
little woman who lay dead in the McCue home, and it was not long before
the people in the street knew that the mute lips of these traces of
a brutal frenzy were accusing somebody of heinous things.

Dr. Charles S. Venable made a complete examination of the body in
company with Dr. J. E. Early, in the presence of Dr. McCue. He
described the gunshot wound which entered slightly to the left of the
collar bone and ranged downward to the right, fracturing the fourth,
fifth and sixth ribs, some of the shot penetrating the backbone. There
were five distinct prints of fingers on the throat of the deceased—one
on one side and four on the other—as if she had been choked with the
left hand. I noticed also that a nail on one of the fingers of the
deceased was bent back and broken. (Evidently the poor woman had
desperately clutched the assailant when he was choking her to death!)

Above the hole made by the shot, the gown was torn and the lace
around the neck was torn nearly off. The body of the ear was cut in
two, and there was much discoloration. The nose wound bled, but no
bones were broken. The wound at the back of her head was slight and
may have been produced after death, when she fell or was thrown into
the bath tub.

Dr. Early's statement was of facts identical with the information
given by Dr. Venable. These gentlemen and Dr. Hugh T. Nelson concurred
in saying that the wounds on the person of Samuel McCue were
insignificant and resulted from blows that would not produce unconsciousness.

"When I first saw McCue on the floor I saw no wound on him," Dr.
Early said. "Later I saw a slight abrasion on the right cheek bone and
he was wiping it with a handkerchief. I examined it the next day. It
was just as if some one had fallen and skinned his knee on a rock.
I examined his head and found no evidence of injury whatever. This
was Monday. There was comparatively no swelling."

Suspicion once aroused, even trifles bore terrible significance. It was
inevitable, therefore, that the cruel handling to which Mrs. McCue had
been subjected before she was shot to death, taken into consideration
with the wounds sustained by her husband—wounds which three out
of four physicians pronounced slight and trifling—should have produced
a profound impression and one strongly adverse to belief in either the
theory of burglary with resulting murder or murder in revenge.

A strange feature in the behavior of J. Samuel McCue on that night
was noted. It will be remembered that when his son, William McCue,
entered the hall-way, Samuel McCue said to him in the presence of
Mrs. Massie, "Your mother is dead. A burglar has killed her." And
turning to Mrs. Massie he repeated, "Yes, she is dead." This was but a
few minutes after the enactment of the tragedy. Later in the night,
when Dr. Venable was with him, he asked the doctor if she was dead
and Dr. McCue in a whisper said, "Yes, Sam, she is dead." The husband
said, "Oh, my God," without the slightest change of expression,
according to Dr. Venable, indicating no grief, excitement or surprise.
There was no tremor of his hand.

This was the second time Dr. McCue had told his brother his wife
was dead! Immediately after this gentleman had reached the bathroom
and found the body, "Sam McCue," according to his testimony,
"came to the bath-room door and asked if she was dead, and when I
told him that she was he said "My God, my darling wife."

More than one of those who took note of things at the McCue house
that night went home putting this story and that, this circumstance
and another together, and drawing their own conclusions.

Public feeling was constantly growing more and more hostile to the
husband, and the investigation of the coroner's jury proceeded with a
deliberation that exasperated a great many who were not charged with
the grave responsibility imposed upon the excellent gentlemen of that
body. Responsibility is sobering to good men, and the conservative
behavior of the jury merits commendation.

There was talk of popular discontent going to violent lengths, but on
Monday evening the jury adjourned until Wednesday to give way to the
funeral on Tuesday. It was said this action was taken at the request
of the detectives.

The funeral services took place at the Presbyterian Church, in which,
some forty hours before, the victim had sat, for the last time, under the
ministrations of her pastor.

The pavements around the sacred edifice were covered with a quiet
gathering of the people who were holding their indignation with a
tight rein and awaiting developments. The husband was the chief
mourner and he and his children and the several members of the Crawford
family who were present, together with family connections,
descended from their carriages under the scruitiny of many hundreds
of eyes, all, or nearly all, casting suspicious glances when they arrested
on J. Samuel McCue. He had in his hand the handkerchief that was
an ever-present feature of his long and trying days in court, and frequently
pressed it to his right cheek, where appeared a small discolored
spot, outlining the wound resulting from the blow which he
claimed knocked him insensible.

The church was crowded, and the attendance overflowed into the
Sunday School room. The services were conducted by the Rev. Dr.
George L. Petrie, and were extremely impressive. It was a time of
tense feeling. The husband wept convulsively, and others more quietly.
The interment was in Riverview Cemetery.

The pall bearers were: Daniel Harmon, George Perkins, Judge J. M.
White, James B. Wood, T. J. Williams, Captain Micajah Woods, George
Mason and Charles H. Moore.

Among the relatives of the two families from a distance who attended
the funeral of Mrs. McCue were her brothers—William C., of Fort
Worth, Tex.; Dr. Frank, of Mount Sidney, Va.; Ernest B., an attorney-atlaw,
Harrisonburg, Va.; James, of Mount Sidney, Va.; and Edgar Crawford,
of Covington, Va.; and two sisters—Mrs. Sallie Grisby, of Atlanta,
Ga., and Miss Bertie Crawford, of Mount Sidney, Va., and the
following brothers of Mr. McCue: John L., of Richmond, Va.; Charles,
of Greenwood, and William, of Greenwood, Va.

During the funeral the detectives were busy—at the McCue residence.

J. SAMUEL McCue.