American Monsters: Harvey Church
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Zevon Odelberg is a true crime podcast host and disability advocate. Zevon has cerebral palsy and he wants Kinda Murdery to be welcoming community for people with disabilities and for people living with challenges of any kind. Life can be hard, but being together makes it better.
Warning. Kind of Murdery contains adult themes, explicit language, and descriptions of violence. It is not suitable for anyone, and we recommend you stop listening. Now. True crime with a dash of the paranormal, the garish, the strange, in the darkly comic. I'm Zevan Odleberg, and you've found your way to kind of Murdery, a place that means more than just murder. It's my very own pocket dimension, home to a curated collection of bizarre and compelling stories. The unsolved, the unsettling, and the unbelievable.
I cover it all just so long as it's kind of murdery. Hey, everybody, welcome to Kind of Murdery. I'm your host, Zevan Odleberg. Thank you so much for deciding to be here. I've got a great story here for you today, guys. It's about a young man named Harvey Church who had a craving for a particular automobile. Little did he know that that is desire would unleash a chain reaction of hideous violence, mystery, and tragedy. Kind of Murdery starts now. Carl Osmas and James Doherty had been missing for ten days.
Both were sales representatives of a well known firm manufacturing an expensive automobile. Unfortunately, the company and the specific car cannot be mentioned here, but Carl and James were last seen the morning they drove a new machine out of the company's displayroom garage on South Michigan Boulevard. They were to give a demonstration to a prospect, Harvey Church, a young man living on the West Side. Osmas had been after Church for some time, endeavoring to sell him a car. On this particular morning, a new model had come in.
Doherty, an older hand at the game, accompanied Osmas in an effort to close the deal. Some hours later, about the middle of the afternoon, and the manager of the agency, Edward G. Cartwright, received a telephone call from Dockerty to the effect that a successful demonstration of the machine had been made and the sale had been consummated. That was the last herd of the two men, Karl Osmus and James Doherty. The fact that they did not report back to the office that day was not surprising, as the sale of the car carried with it a good sized commission.
It was thought that they'd knocked off for the bounds of the afternoon to celebrate, but late evening came and their respective wives phoned the office and inquired for their husbands. They had not come home for their suppers. There was still no sign of them by the following morning, and it began to look as though something were a miss. Of course, the police were notified at once that the two men were missing, and accompanied by Cartwright and other officials of the automobile firm, went to the last known place that Osmas and Doherty had been, the home of Harvey Church.
In front of the latter's house stood the automobile that Dougherty reported he had sold. Church greeted the party and appeared greatly surprised at their visit. He was a youth about twenty two yearsyears old, with dark brown eyes and hair. He had a frank, easygoing manner, though still very young. He was in the bond business and had achieved no little success, as the appearance and furnishings of his home plainly indicated. His mother was with him when the officers and automobile men called, and also a young woman, miss Anna Barrett, his fiance.
She was visiting the churches from out of town. When informed of the reason for their unexpected visit. Church disclaimed all knowledge of the missing men's whereabouts or their activities after they'd settled their business with him. I see that the car the boys drove is outside. Cart Wright said, you bought it, didn't you? Well? Yes, why, yes, I did, replied Church. I bought it, didn't you know? I remember one of the men calling into the office after the deal was made. Yeah, yeah, I got the call, Kurt Right, admitted.
Doherty phoned me that you'd made the purchase. I made an inquiry just to check up on him. On what terms did you take the car from Doherty in Osma's Mister Church, Well, I paid them six thousand in cash, and I drew up an agreement on my typewriter here that if they would not turn the account over to a financing house, I would pay the two thousand ballants within three months. Church replied his statement of such a large cash payment came as a surprise, and he went on to explain that it had been an agreement drawn up because of the fact that if the account was turned over to a financing house there naturally would be an investigation, and for business reasons, he did not care to have his firm know that he had purchased such an expensive car.
Asked if he had a receipt, He produced one signed by Doherty. Cartwright knew the signature well, and the receipts showed that an initial payment of six thousand dollars had been made, just as Church had stated. He also showed a carbon copy of the agreement that he and the two men had drawn up as reference to the balance payments. This was signed by both osmas and Doherty, and by Church himself. Cartwright at once identified the signatures of his two men as genuine, and Church explained that the original copy of the agreement had been turned over to Doherty while he had kept the duplicate.
It was evident that any mishap that might have befallen the two men occurred after they left the church home. Church had paid them an exceptionally large sum of money instead of the usual and n payment, and that had been made by cash instead of check. So one of two things was certain. Osma's and Doherty were either victims of foul play or had absconded with the money. The first theory was discredited immediately, even though they had six or even sixty thousand dollars in cash on their persons. What could have happened to the two men in the city of Chicago in broad daylight had been a tough neighborhood and at night, and they flashed the money so that prying eyes might have seen it.
The theory of foul play might be well founded, but such was not the case. Church's home was in a residential district. No one knew that the two automobile men were in possession of the money. Even if it had been known, it was hardly probable that they could have been waylaid and robbed en route to the car line two blocks away without the affair being seen. An inquiry of the immediate neighborhood revealed that nothing of the sort had taken place. Cartwright hesitated to suspect his two salesmen of theft.
He had known both a considerable length of time, and both men bore, as far as he or any of their individual associate's new spotless records. However, at the expiration of another three days in which they had still not put in their appearance, he acceded to the demands of the company's head office and swore out warrants charging both Osma's and Doherty with grand larceny. The hunt was on in earnest At this point. Preston Hickey of the Minneapolis News was assigned to the case by his managing editor.
He received a note that said, should anything of importance in the James Doherty Karl Osma's case, break cover it for both the Saint Paul and ourselves. Doherty is a native of Saint Paul and a graduate of Minnesota and a well known athlete here. When he received the note from his boss, Preston Hickey was on a leave of absence from the Minneapolis News, recuperating from a slight attack of influenza, accompanied by his cousin Otis Trevor, an artist. He was spending a few weeks at Marlborough, the summer resort owned by his father at Crystal Lake, Illinois.
Following the note from the editor, Preston Hickey kept his eye on the morning and evening news papers of the police activities, ready at a moment's notice to speed into Chicago and get on the job for an interviewer a feature should either of the two men be apprehended. Another five days brought no clue of them, though the hunt had assumed the proportions of a nationwide affair sponsored by the insurance company who covered the automobile concern. This time, when Hickey's return to Minneapolis was near, he concluded to drive and see Cartwright personally.
There was a possible chance that some progress might have been made which, for one reason or another, had not been revealed in the papers. The police suspected a theft plot that involved not only James Doherty and carl Osmos but also their wives, and as such they'd kept close watch on the house and even intercepted phone messages, but nothing had been learned. On Saturday, September seventeenth, nineteen twenty two, Hickey and his cousin Otis arose early and left the manor for a fifty five mile drive into town.
He followed what is now the Great Crete Northwest Highway, then a gravel road frequented by very little motorists. The road, for a good portion of the way followed the course of the Deplain's River, which, though a comparatively short narrow stream, is very beautiful. Hickey reached Maywood, twenty six miles outside of Chicago, at about eight fifteen am. Passed through the town and continued on to appoint a mile or so beyond. He was just in the act of making a turn where the road swings away from the river, when a cry reached his ears, bringing the machine to a stop and looking down the slope in the direction of the river, he saw two boys gesticulating wildly with their arms and running towards him.
They were dressed in the uniforms of boy scouts. They reached the roadway well out of breath. In voices that quivered with excitement, they told the reporter that they'd found the body of a man lying in the water near the shore. Here for a moment, we'll hear Hickey's first person account of how he encountered the body. They were on a hike, they said, and had come down to the body quite by accident. Would we please come down and take a look? We would, of course, and we did. Arriving at the spot and preceded by the two scouts, we saw the fully clothed, partially submerged body of a man lying about ten feet from the shore.
To all appearances, the body had floated down the river and either grounded in the shallow water or had run up against a dead head or some other obstruction. Testing the ground for quicksand beds, we waded out to the corpse, and with the aid of the scouts, succeeded in dragging it up to the bank. Considering that the body weighed about two hundred pounds and dead weighed at that it was no simple task. It took but a glance to see that the man had been murdered. The body had been frightfully man handled.
A single handcuff bracelet was attached to one of the wrists, a small rope was twisted about the throat, and the head had almost been severed from the trunk. There were bruises about the head and face, and the body had been in the river for some time. As soon as the body was on the shore, Hickey dispatched the two scouts to Maywood to notify the police, and during their absence he made a hasty ser which of the clothing in an effort to establish its identity. The pockets of the trousers invest revealed nothing, nor at first did those of the coat.
He was at the point of giving up and merely standing guard over the corpse until the arrival of the police. Then cousin Otis made a discovery that had been overlooked previously. The coat of the man had two inner pockets, one on either side, which is very unusual and as a rule, only occurs in the case of some maid to order clothes from the pocket on the left side. Otis pulled out some water soak papers. There were but two. One was a typewritten sheet, and the other was an envelope, the letter which it originally contained being missing, though almost obliterated by the water.
The typewritten sheet revealed itself as a bill of sale agreement, but so blurred that a comprehensive reading of its text was practically impossible. Then reporter Hickey and cousin Otis turned their attention to the envelope, and when they finally deciphered the name there also typewritten, they gasped in astonishment. It was addressed to James Doherty at a South'side address and was postmarked from Minneapolis, some two weeks before my god Otis, Hickey cried, I believe this is the automobile salesman.
I believe I've solved the automobile mystery. Cousin Otis agreed. It was evident that Doherty's murderer had stripped his victim of everything which he might possibly be identified by before throwing the body into the river, but had overlooked that extra pocket in the coat, as Hickey and his cousin had done. At first. Convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the man was Doherty, they once more began a scrutiny of the blurred typewritten sheet, and by dint of much guesswork and ciphering, found that it was the original copy of the agreement given by Church to the salesman pertaining to the balance payment on the car.
They also speculated about the possibility of Karl Osmus's body also being in the river near Bouts, or the vague chance that Karl himself was now a fugitive murderer as well as a thief. When approaching footsteps and voices attracted their attention. Looking up, they saw the boy scouts returning, followed by the sheriff of McHenry County, whom Hickey knew slightly, and there was a score or so of other men attracted by curiosity to the spot, with the oncoming men less than fifty feet away and obscured for the moment by a clump of trees.
Hickey turned to cousin Otis, keep mum about finding these papers, he said, placing them in his pocket. We haven't searched the body, nor have we any idea who it is. See. After a brief examination of the spot where the body had been found, the sheriff had it carried to the waiting truck to be taken to the morgue at Maywood. Then Hickey and Otis were on their way again. What was the idea duck in those papers, Otis asked his cousin. We might get into a jam if they should find out we tampered with anything on the body.
I know it, Hickey replied, but I've got a hunch it's worth a try anyway. Raging the city, he drove directly to the home of Harvey Church. Upon arriving there, Hickey found it to be a duplex building. Church and his mother lived on the lower floor. Hickey wasn't sure what his intentions were, nor what he would have said if there was an answer to the ring, but he pressed the bell simply on the impulse of the moment. But there was no answer, and after several unsuccessful summons, it became evident that there was no one at home.
Hickey and Otis were at the point of leaving the house when a door opened on the floor above. There were heavy footsteps, and presently a man appeared at the head of the stairs looking for someone. He inquired politely, Yes, I came here to see mister Church, but there doesn't appear to be anyone here, at least I didn't get any response to my ring. They're away, came the reply. Left yesterday morning for Addison, Wisconsin, where they have a farm. I don't expect they'll be back for a week or so, at least that's what they told my wife.
Mister Church was going to help his father with some work. Oh I see, Hickey said. You know them quite well, do you well? Not very only use neighbors in the house. They've only been here a short time, and I'm away a good bit of the time myself travel. You know. Was there anything I could do? Any message you'd care to leave? Reporter Hickey could see that he and Otis's visit had aroused the man's curiosity beyond the casual politeness that he affected. No, I guess not, Hickey replied, I'm from the Automobile Insurance Company, and I just wanted to see him and learn exactly what took place before those two missing salesmen left.
No doubt you've read about it, well, I should say I have, and I say, said the neighbor coming down the stairs. That is a funny thing, isn't it. I was home the day about the car. I saw those fellows when they first drove up. You did, Hickey said, casually, very casually. Well, yeah, they got here about ten in the morning. After a bit, Church and his mother and some young women left the house with them, and they all drove away. I'd just finished up lunch and was sitting by the window reading when Church came back and the two men came back.
The women folks weren't with them. My wife was going out, and as the three came in, and during a brief exchange of words, Church said he'd just driven his mother and the other woman over to Indiana Harbor in the new machine which he was going to buy. Well, and you know, sir, I was mighty interested in this when my wife told me about it, because it was a beautiful car and it must have cost a lot of money. Now I know, Young Church was in the bond business, but I didn't think he could afford cars like that.
I sat there looking at it and wishing it was mine, if I'm honest with you. This was maybe three o'clock, and by the by I saw Church come out and get into the machine and drive away. He was alone this time, which struck me as kind of funny, because I hadn't parked by the window ever since lunch, and I hadn't seen those other two fellows leave. But I guess I just missed him. Hickey was very interested now in this narrative of his voluntary informant, although he endeavored not to appear so interested.
Is that all that happened? He inquired? Didn't Church come back? Oh? Yes, said the neighbor. In an hour or so. He had some bundles with him, and he drove the car round to the garage. I didn't see any more of him that day, but I heard him drive away about seven o'clock that night. He was gone, I guess till the following morning, because he hadn't returned when I went to bed, and I stayed up later than usual puttering over some reports that I had to get off. When he came back he had his mother and the young woman with him.
That was the day the police officers came out here, wasn't it. The fellow thought for a moment, Well, yes, I believe it was, he said at last, well, I know it was, actually because I left town that morning and the next day I got a letter from my wife telling me about the police being here. Following a few moments of inconsequential conversation, Hickey and Notice thanked the man, who gave his name as Fulton E. Ross, and they took their departure from the church home. Hickey and Otis drove directly to the Automobile Concerns offices on Michigan Boulevard.
Hickey made inquiry for mister Cartwright and was shown to his office, where he found he was on the point of going to lunch. Introducing himself, Hickey showed him a copy of Robertson's telegram and explained his mission. My leave of absence down here is coming to a close, he said, and as my paper requested something on this story, I have called on you on the chance that perhaps there is some development that, for one reason or another, you're not making public. I'm sorry. Cartwright replied, but there's nothing.
I wish there were, though. This whole affair has been a great shock to me, and I hope the mystery surrounding it is soon cleared up. Well, said Hickey, since you have nothing, perhaps I can help things a little. Well, what do you mean, Cartwright asked, looking at me in surprise. I mean, Hickey replied, with keen enjoyment of the surprise he was about to spring that the body of the murdered man was found in the Deplain's River near Maywood by two boy scouts this morning. The body is now in the custody of the police, and although they probably will fail to identify owing to the disfiguration, I have every reason to believe and I am positive that it is James Doherty.
Well what makes you think so, exclaimed Cartwright, his eyes wide with wonder. Did you know Doherty? No, Hickey replied, I didn't know him, but I found these papers in one of the man's pockets, and they seemed to make the identification certain. Hickey handed the documents over to Cartwright, who scrutinized the envelope and paper carefully. By George, he said, I bet you're right. But if these papers were on the body. How is it that the identity is not already known to the police. When I found out who the man was, I replied, or who I thought he was, and that it was apparent that he had been murdered.
I figured that the less known of his identity just yet, the better. Should the man who killed him read that an unidentified man had been found, he will feel safe and probably will not take the precautions to cover up his trail that he might under different circumstances. Well, that's so too, agreed cart Wright. What's on your mind? Now? What are you proposed to do? There's only one thing to do, notify the police, I answered. I'm not a detective, and the affair is nothing to me. But I've been in the game long enough to know that criminals, a lot of them, based their activities on newspaper reports as to what the movements of the police are.
So far, this has been kept in the dark. My only purpose in coming to you first, or at all, before notifying the police, was to learn if you might have something to add to the case. Cartwright called the police department, and before long, two plain clothed men who'd previously been assigned to the case were ushered in. Cartwright introduced them to Hickey and cousin Otis as detective John Newton and Walter Shoemaker, and proceeded to relate Hickey's story to them. Hickey had described, as best he could from the appearance of the body, what the dead man looked like, and Cartwright declared the description in a general way fitted Doherty.
The two detectives said that the department had been notified of the finding of the man's body, but of course had no notion as to who it might be. And now that we're all together, Hickey said, when the police had finished and he had answered several questions put to him by the officers, here's another point. After leaving May one this morning, cousin Otis and I drove to the church home and had a talk with the tenant upstairs. He's just gotten back from a business trip. Now, I wasn't trying to butt in on the police, but I'm a newspaper writer, and I guess just naturally newsy and I knew that regardless of whether I saw church or not, I wouldn't be doing any harm.
Hickey then told them the result of his conversation with Ross, following which there was a general discussion all around. He learned that Cartwright was aware that Church was out of town. Church had been into the office the day before, asking if anything had been heard of the two men, and telling Cartwright that he was leaving with his mother for a brief trip to his father's farm up near Addison. Hickey also learned that a thorough check on Church's cash payment for the automobile story had been made by the police.
They had learned that he'd made a large withdrawal from the Continental and Commercial Trust and Savings Bank, where he kept his account on the day previous to the purchase of the machine, in a roundabout way so as not to hurt the man standing. They learned that he was held in high regard by the firm for which he worked. He recently had received a commission check for bond sales, which, with the amount he had withdrawn from the bank, made a total of considerable more than had been paid to the salesman.
The officers did not take so much stock in the fact that Ross had not seen Osmus and Doherty leave the Church home upon returning from the Indiana Harbor, and Hickey agreed with them The police were inclined to believe that Dougherty had met foul play at the hands of Osmas, either in an attempt to retain possession of the money paid him for the company, or as the result of a falling out among thieves. This conjecture was not illogical. One thing, however, which they admitted, puzzled them, was the handcuff around Doherty's wrist.
Only one bracelet of the pair had been locked on the dead man's arm, the other was missing. Well, E've investigated this fellow Church pretty thoroughly, declared Detective Noon, at length, and I'm satisfied he's not in this so far, though we've been working on a hunch and we've got nothing. Doherty's body has been found. Now that makes several things possible. It may be that he and Osmas had some quarrel and then Osmas killed him and beat it with the money. Or it may be that both of them were murdered and thrown in the river, and that Osmas is still there.
And what this bird Roth did or didn't see might not make any difference. And then again it might. But I'll tell you what we might do. We might take a run out to churcher's house and sort of look things over on the quiet. What do you mean search the house without permission, asked Shoemaker. All sure, agreed Noonon. That sounded pretty high handed to Hickey, breaking into a man's home without a warrant, And I guess it must have sounded the same way to Shoemaker, for he seemed doubtful after we ranstract this guy's house and find nothing.
Well, then a sweet balling from the chief for disobeying orders and maybe suspension. I'm not strong for it, said Shoemaker. Noonan put up an argument, probably more from a desire to win his point than any wish to search the church home, and in the end he prevailed. Hickey left his car in the company garage and they all drove out in the police machine, stopping and rooted a newsstand where they secured a copy of the Chicago American Noon edition, which contained the story of the unidentified burder victim found in the de Planes River.
Arriving at the church house, the police went at once to the Ross apartment. After a long interview with that man, decided that come what may, they were going to search Church's home. Entrance was made by means of a pass key through the kitchen door, which, though locked, had not been fastened with the night bolt. From the inside, the apartment was in spick and span order and very tastefully furnished. A very thorough search, in which the officers exercise care not to disturb the order of the place, failed to reveal anything that would connect young Church with the disappearance of the two men in a small metal box and what was evidently Church's den.
Police found a receipt for the car and the carbon copy of the original and smeared agreement taken from Doherty's body. The place was as barren of clues as a hen of its proverbial teeth. I think we better get out of this, Jordan, get out pronto, declared Shoemaker, who was plainly illities. We'd be a fine looking company if those folks should walk in the front door, now, wouldn't we, Then, turning to Noonan, who was opening and shutting doors and creating a general racket. What are you snooping around for now?
Maybe we're off on the wrong foot, declared Noonan, but while we're here, we might as well make a good job of it. There must be a basement door. Somewhere, yes, here, we are. Nonan opened a door that led off the short hallway connecting the kitchen in the dining room and said, come on, everybody. Hickey, cousin Otis and the police tripped down a flight of narrow stairs and found themselves in a pit of impenetrable blackness. Stumbling and feeling his way about with the aid of his pocket torch, Detective Nonan finally discovered the electric switch, and a moment later the basement was flooded with light.
The search there was a short duration. Revelations came so thick and fast as to leave everyone paralyzed with amazement. The entire rear end of the basement, between the coal bin and the stairs leading to the yard bore evidences of a terrible struggle. The floor and the walls in this area were literally covered with bloodstains. Following this discovery, the police began their efforts in earnest and presently Shoemaker emerged from the dark interior of the coal bin carrying a blood stained quilt wrapped about a double bladed timber axe, besmeared with the telltale stains.
Almost simultaneously, Noonan, who had been lashing his light under the cellar, gave a cry and dragged out a bundle similar to that found by Shoemaker. Unrolling it on the floor, they found it to be a suit of clothes of light gray material, with great dark brown splotches down the front of the coat and pants. The suit had been wrapped around a bloodstained hammer and a baseball bat, to the end of which clung wisps of matted hair. So shocking were these discoveries, and so utterly surprised was everyone at finding them, that they were all speechless.
Nor was the evidence that now lay piled up on the floor all that the basement revealed. Palling through a box of junk in the corner, Hickey found a salesman's manual bearing Doherty's name, and, not to be outdone by the others, Otis and Cartwright, who were on a little expedition of their own, produced a dark fedora hat containing the letters c AA Auspice's initials, and a brown cap, which Cartwright immediately identified as belonging to Doherty. Nothing more was revealed by the search, Nothing more was needed.
The evidence was complete, and yet it was evidence that would make one stop and wonder even the most amateurish criminal or murderer, especially the latter, through instinct alone, it would seem, would have made an effort to dispose of nearly as possible every scrap of evidence that possibly might incriminate him. Here the men had found initial hats, clubs, clothes, an axe, and a quilt, each in itself a document of horror. And on top of these the stained floor and walls, on which not the slightest effort had been made to efface the marks.
It appeared that the murderer, in a frenzy of fear, had sought to hide his guilt by hurling the damning tools of his work helter skelter at any spot that offered a hiding place, much as a child might throw a dish. It is broken under the sink. It sure is one hell of a business. Noonan declared, when at last they'd laid their various fines out on the floor in a motley heap. I'm digging it fell as a rope for mister Church. To my way of reasoning, Doherty and Osmus were trapped down here and slain and man handcuffed.
Racial ain't a puzzle to me anymore. When he'd finished with this dastardly business. Church drove the bodies of these men to some point along with the Plains river. He handcuffed their wrists together, and the probability is that he tied a piece of stone to the leg of one of them and throw them in the river. I believe those handcuffs broke, allowing Doherty's body to float to the shallow spot where it was found, and the remains of Osman's will be found in deeper water. That was the wisest thing you ever did.
Arguing with me against coming here, Newton continued, a dressing shoemaker. I wasn't particular about coming out, and I didn't expect to find anything if we did come. But when you talked against it, I got stubborn and insisted on having my way. Ha, do you agree to it readily? In the first place, the chances are we wouldn't have come. My God. If there's one thing I can't understand, it's why that damn fool didn't dispose of this stuff. He could have left this place as bare of evidence as the floor above had he had any brains.
But we got a lot of work to do. Let's get busy. We can talk later. The machinery. The law was immediately put into action within the hour in response to a telephone called to headquarters. By noon in a deputy coroner, accompanied by several detectives and a representative of the State Attorney's office had arrived, carefully examined the premises and made photographs of the basement and the evidence found. The bloody relics were then appropriated by the state's attorneys representative for safekeeping and presentations to the grand jury.
Stepping back from the story here for a moment, I got to say, I am really curious how the heck they're going to get around the illegal search and seizure part of the discovery of this evidence. All right back to the story. In the meantime, a wire had been dispatched to the Chief of Police at Addison, Wisconsin, ordering the immediate apprehension of Harvey Church. He was arrested driving in the streets of Addison, accompanied by his mother and father, and though extradition papers had already been issued, it was learned, somewhat to the surprise of the police, that Church would not fight being brought back to Cook County.
It was first suspected that he had not been made aware of the nature of the charges against him, but this was later discovered to be wrong. Once started on a clue, the police worked with remarkable rapidity. Before nightfall, squads from the town Hall station in Chicago were busily engaged dragging the de Plains River around the vicinity where Doherty's body had been found, in an effort to bring the body of Osmos to the surface. With the first definite knowledge, the Church was safely under arrest, the information was released to the papers that the man found in the river was Doherty, and thousands of persons from Chicago and the near vicinity crowded the river banks watching the officer's work.
The following morning, Harvey Church was brought under heavy guard from Addison, Wisconsin. He was taken immediately to the office of the State Attorney, where, after brief and unimportant preliminary questioning, he was accused of the murder of both Doherty and Osmos and faced with the evidence of his guilt. During the first part of the interrogation, Church made brief and for the most part, unsatisfactory answers to the questions put to him, but in site of the bloody relics. He shut up like a clam and seemed stunned.
When harder, he became impatient and made a vehement denial of having anything whatsoever to do with the killing of the two men. If killed, they indeed were in view of what lay piled on the table before him, the bat, the axe, the hammer, the quilt, and other articles found, all bearing the telltale blood stains, and so close that had he reached out his hand he could have touched them. This line of argument was extremely ridiculous. However, any surprise that his stand may have caused those in the room was as nothing as compared to that which came when pressed harder and harder for a confession, he suddenly made an astounding declaration.
He admitted that that which had been found in the basement of his home placed him in a quote very embarrassing position, but said that if he really had killed the two men, he had absolutely no recollection of the deed to the authorities. This statement carried about as much weight as his flat denial of any knowledge of the affair had. But arguing and threatened as they might, he could not be persuaded or intimidated to change the statement a bit, nor did three days of merciless grillings suffice to break him down.
In the meantime, having failed in their efforts to locate Osmace's body by probing or with grappling hooks, the police began dynamiting the river at many spots where the water was quite deep and where they thought it was likely the corpse might be. But this too proved equally futile. Having denied any knowledge of the murders, and having declared that if he had done the deed, he didn't remember it, it was hardly natural to suppose that Church would shed any light on the whereabouts of Osmas's body.
This guest proved correct. Approached on the subject, he gave a bored laugh. In view of the fact that I know nothing of the affair, How could I be supposed to know where the man's body is? He inquired. For the time being, the authorities decided to leave him alone and pursue their own course. With Doherty's mutilated body and the instruments of the terrible deed in hand, they had enough evidence to assure a conviction, but they wanted, if possible, to make the case absolutely complete. In this they suddenly were successful.
Detectives Nonan and Shoemaker were still chasing down clues in the case. They made a second visit to the Church residence and talked to begin with Ross, as well as nearby neighbors, but without success. Now it happens that while the automobile which Church had purchased was in the hands of the police, it was stored under lock and key in the garage at the rear of Church's home. As it was a remarkably beautiful machine, the only one of its kind in the city, the detectives went to the garage simply to look it over before returning to the station.
Noonan was attracted to one corner of the large room, where the concrete flooring showed signs of having been recently pulled up, probably for a plumbing repair to some pipe underneath. Noonan and Shoemaker poked about the broken cement and were suddenly rewarded with the discovery of blood stains. Grabbing up a shovel and a crowbar that were in the garage, they fell to work, and before long the disfigured body of carl Osmos had been exhumed, with the last link of the case complete. The authorities again went at Church with renewed vigor and succeeded in drawing from him assigned confession, But their efforts were time wasted, as the contents of the confession were of such nature that the state declined to use it as part of its case, nor did the defense try to introduce its substance into court at the time of trial.
It is, without a doubt, one of the most peculiar and strange documents ever entered in the criminal history of Cook County. Here is what Harvey Church wrote. All of my life, I have been a peculiar sort of fellow. I have known it. But whether or not others did, I have no means of telling, but a peculiarity that one season oneself must certainly be apparent to others. I was born and brought up in Addison, Wisconsin. I was just like other boys, full of mischief and always ready for a frolic. As a young child, I was not vicious, but growing older I would have spells when I wanted to kill.
Not a very commendable quality, to be sure, but the truth. Nevertheless, I used to torture insects and small animals. Of course, when I agree to be seventeen or eighteen. I practically got over this, and even when I was overcome with this emotion, I wouldn't think of going out and killing a dog or a cat. I never knew what hatred against a human bean being meant, and my inclinations were never directed toward persons. Then came this dreadful affair, a horrible nightmare to me. I had been earning good money and I wanted to buy a car.
I looked at several makes, but decided on the one that I was driving when arrested. Both Doherty and Osmas had been trying to sell me for weeks, and I got to such a state finally that I could think of nothing but that machine. It was a very beautiful automobile, equipped with all modern appliances. The price was eight thousand dollars. It was considerably more than I had planned to pay, but I had set my mind on it, and I decided that I just must have it. On the day that Dougherty and Osmas died, i'd been out riding with them giving the car a final tryout.
On the spur of the moment, I decided to take it and told them to drive me home. And I would make out a check. We drove up an alley and into a garage, and I left them while I went for my check book. When I returned, I found that Doherty had already made out a receipt. Then of a sudden came the impulse. Things went red before my eyes, and great drops of perspiration broke out all the way my body. If I could only get them to my house and into the basement, the car would be mine and I would have the receipt to show for it.
Then I could cash a check for six thousand dollars and Barrier hide the money to make my story hang together. I gave Doherty the check and then invited the two over to the house to have a drink. When we arrived, we went down to the basement, where I had several bottles of liquor. We each had a number of drinks, and from that time on things are very indistinct in my memory. I attacked the men with the axe. Doherty fell at once, and even though Osmus attempted to defend himself, my assault was so sudden and terrific that he was unprepared and he had no chance.
When it was all over, I waited until nightfall to hide the bodies. I intended to throw both bodies into the river and handcuff them together for that purpose. Then the weight was too great for me to carry, so I severed the cuffs and buried Osma's in my garage under the floor. There wasn't enough room in the hole for Dougherty, so I had to take them to the river. Though I realized I was in great danger of being caught, I drove out to the Dempster Road bridge over the river at a spot where I knew the water to be fairly deep.
Then I tied a rock to one of Doherty's legs and threw him in the water. First. However, I removed all traces of identification, but I must have missed the additional inside pocket in his coat. I drove around all night, and in the morning I went to the Indiana Harbor for my mother and sweetheart. On the way back, I stopped at the bank and withdrew several thousand dollars. That same day, the police visited my house looking for Doherty in Osmas, and you know the rest from then on. Damning, though it was the state's attorney, declined to use Church's confession in court.
Though he never expressed a reason for this, it's generally believed that he feared the confession had too much the smack of insanity to present to the jury. On the eighteenth of December, Church was placed on trial and, true to predictions, used insanity as his defense. But despite the testimony given by miss Anna Barrett, his fiance, her father Charles Roby, hotel proprietor, and Dan Willard, both of Addison, Wisconsin, to the effect that at times Church suffered mental lapses, and the testimony of doctor Hugh T. Patrick, specialist in mental diseases, that Church was inclined to be a victim of amnesia, he was found guilty and on December twenty three, in criminal Court before Judge Cavally, famous trial judge of the Low Leopold case, he was condemned to be hanged.
Church's execution was set for February seventeenth, but was subsequently extended to March third for a further investigation into his sanity, which proved futile even with the execution date extended to March third, because there was so much doubt as to whether or not carrying out the sentence would be a miscarriage of justice. The execution did not take place until sunset instead of dawn, as is the custom in Illinois. This gave Church plenty of time to secure a further stay or a commutation of the sentence to life imprisonment, but he failed to get either.
It can be said that when Church finally did go to the scaffold, he cheated the law for forty one days. He had gone on a hunger strike. It was necessary to feed him him forcibly and often while he slept to keep him alive. He sank into a coma three days before he was executed, from which it was impossible to arouse him. There was a death march, there always is, but Church was not among the marchers. Two stalwart deputies carried him in their arms, and he went to meet his God strapped to a chair, his head drooping forward on his chest.
Now that it is all over and past history, where the state of Illinois and Cook County justified in the hanging of Church? Or did they, in the name of justice, commit a crime no less grave, if less brutal, than the one for which Church paid the supreme penalty. I'm Zevanodelberg, and this has been kind of murdery. If you've enjoyed today's kind of murdery, please tell your friends and family, tell strangers, leave a review. It's the best way to ensure that I can keep telling that special brand of bizarre and terrible tales that you'll only find here on kind of Murdery.
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