15th September 1851
Reference Numbert18510915-1818
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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1818. BENJAMIN COLE , feloniously killing and slaying William Cogan.

MESSRS. RYLAND, LOCKE and PARRY conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN LONG . I live at 6, Plumtree-court, Holborn, and am a labourer. I knew the deceased, Cogan, a fortnight or three weeks, but he used to he called John Bull, for a nick-name—on Saturday, 5th July, at a quarter or twenty minutes to 12 o'clock, I saw him at the bottom of a narrow court coming into Plumtree-court, at the Holborn end, and a man and woman—the prisoner was there, and said to Cogan, "You shall not stop here"—Cogan said, "What am I doing any more than the other man and woman are doing?"—I did not hear any answer to that—I stopped to hear the conversation but heard no more, and walked to my own door, No. 9, where there is a lamp—I then saw the deceased run by me, and the policeman after him—the policeman is the prisoner Cole, No. 849, I knew him well, because be had passed several times, and we had talked to each other at the door, and he came into my place on the Wednesday before, when my wife was chastising one of the children—he was in his police dress, and I saw the number on his collar—Cogan ran into No. 28; the prisoner turned his bull's-eye into No. 28, and likewise into No. 8—I asked the policeman, "What have you done?"—he said, "I will have him before the night is out"—he went down a narrow court into Holborn again—I remained under the lamp, and the deceased came down alongside me—he had his blouse on, and I said "If I were you I would go up-stairs and change myself"—he then went up-stairs and put on a dark coat, and I remained with him in the court eating some bread

and meat—I moved to No. 7, and he stood by me eating the bread and meat; and afterwards he went over to No. 21, still eating the bread and meat—he did not remain there long, but went and put on his blouse again, and came and stood by No. 21 again, with Bridget Moore; that was between 1 and 2 o'clock—I saw Cole, the prisoner, coming up again—Cogan saw him, and said to Bridget Moore, "I shall be off from here," and he and she ran into No. 18—Cole followed them quickly into No. 18, with Lockyer, the Shoe-lane policeman—I saw them come out again some time afterwards, and the prisoner had bold of Cogan by the collar, and beat him several blows with his fist about the bead before he came to No. 21, and then he put his band in his pocket and took out his truncheon, and beat him with it round the arm and body—he still held him with his left hand, and went into No. 28; before they got there the prisoner gave him a blow across his neck—I heard him beating him several times in the passage, and be said, "You b—b—r, I will do for you," and he flung him on his face and hands into No. 28—I followed them, and stood within four feet of where the deceased laid; with that, the Shoe-lane policeman came, turned on his bull's-eye, and asked what was the matter—I said, "You know very well what is the matter"—he came alongside of me, by No. 28 door, the prisoner was beating Cogan then in the passage—I saw him hit him under the right ear with his truncheon—Cogan said, "For God's sake do not murder me, and I will go up-stairs and not come down no more" Lockyer was there then, and told me he should serve me the same if I did not go about my business—I had said to Lockyer that it was a scandalous shame to murder the young man—before that Lockyer and Bridget Moore had bad some words up the court, but my attention was taken up with Cogan—Cogan was as sober as I am at the present moment—I have never seen him in liquor since I have known him—Lockyer ordered me away, and that was the last I saw of Cogan—I saw him two or three days after when he was dead—on the following morning I heard several persons telling the prisoner and Lockyer that they had done a nice job for that young man, and I cannot tell whether it was Cole or Lockyer said, "I did not do it"—I saw Mrs. Lyons in the court.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT WILKINS. Q. You began to-spend your evening, I think, about 12 o'clock? A. I was bard at work till half-past 11, or Tery near 12, turning a mangle for my wife—my family consists of six, who are all at home except my daughter, who goes out to work, but sleeps at home—I have three sons, they are not all at home—it has nothing to do with this case whether one of them is transported—how many gentleman has got a misfortunate child, I cannot tell whether he is transported, I do not know—he was convicted, but I cannot tell where he is—I know that he was transported, and who transported him, Mr. Mow, one of the detective-police, and what was it for—he was accused of stealing 18d. and a silver thimble—he was tried at this Court, in the third Court—I have kept no account of how many times he was convicted before that of picking pockets, it was not my place—what prison was he in for picking pockets? he was convicted of that when he was transported, I believe, it was only an attempt before—I cannot tell whether he was imprisoned three months—I was told in 1850 he was in Prison for six months—that is my youngest son; I do not believe my eldest son has ever been tried, I swear he has not—my youngest son was not turned out of the National-school for theft, I could bring Mr. Smith to prove it, none of my sons have been—I have never had but one son convicted; that was John, he was my step-son—I have an elder son, thirty-six years old, he has never been in prison—I do not know whether the police were witnesses on all the occasions against my other son—I do not know who gave evidence

against him—I did not come into Court to witness the trial—I spoke on his behalf—the police might have given evidence against that son,, but that is all Q. In 1848, had you seven days imprisonment? Witness. What was it for? Q. For an assault. A. On who? I had; but what was it for? it was not for an assault—a policeman owed me animosity, the same as they do now or why should they shove me a month in prison, but because they owed me animosity and would not take my bail? and when I was bailed they tried to put me back again and run me secretly down—why did they come and break my door open while I was in prison, and take my wife out of the house, and cry out," Fire?"—what should they do that for?—I believe I was in prison for seven days in 1848 for drunkenness (referring to a memorandum)—the police gave evidence against me—I was fined then—I was not in prison in Sept. in the same year for a month—that was for Mr. Chamberlain, a parish concern; he struck my daughter when she went for relief—I was twice in prison for Mr. Chamberlain—it was not for assaulting the police-constable—it was for going for relief; that I swear—that was my only offence—I did not assault him—they said I did—I got fourteen days—I was not imprisoned on 20th Nov. for fourteen days for disorderly conduct—I never was in prison only three times for the police—that is twice, now—they owed me animosity for this concern—I had fourteen days in Sept., 1850—that was when the police shoved me in because they owed me animosity—on 4th Sept. I got seven days for a parish affair—I was imprisoned in Feb. this year for one month—it was Dot two months—I have not been imprisoned for two months at all—it was for a month—you can find out what it was for—I dare say Mr. Chamberlain knows what it was for—I was twice in prison for Mr. Chamberlain; and Alderman Salomons ordered him to relieve my family, which he would not—I made application again for relief, and Alderman Salomons told him when I came out he was to relieve me—I went to get relief from him, and he would not relieve me—I made application to one of the guardians, and as it was board-day that day I went up the stairs—Mr. Chamberlain and another officer caught hold of me and dragged me down the steps—I went outside, and he set two officers on me, and I was taken into custody—I was put in prison for that—that was in 1850—I have had a month this year—it was in Feb. last, for being in liquor; and this last time I had another month—that was for an assault—they said I assaulted them, but I never did—I was imprisoned as an innocent man most of my time—I was not seven times imprisoned—the highest I ever had was a month—there was only three times and this twice for the police—I have lived in this court twenty-seven years last March, and have rented the house—there is only one lodger in the house where I live—at the time this happened there were two families besides my own—sometimes there are two men in the house—I cannot tell how many there were then; I did not examine their rooms—there was myself, a man and his family, another man and his wife, and sometimes it might be his brother came there and lodged—there are six houses in the narrow part of the court—you turn round a corner after you leave my house—there may be more than twenty-eight houses in the court, and there may be less; I never counted them—I cannot tell whether they are mostly lodging-houses—they are occupied by working-people, I believe—I dare say they are honest, industrious, hard-working people; they are for what I know—I do not know whether it is their custom to sleep with their doors open—it is not my place to bring them to an account; do you think I am a watchman?—it is the place of the police to see every street-door shut, if they do their duty—I was up and down the court most of the night—my doors were not open—I do not know whether most of the doors were open; I did not go up the court to see—I did not assault one of

the witnesses in leaving the police-court the day the inquiry finished—a policeman set Jack Moore on to me when I was coming from the Mansion house, and he beat me, and that is what I got a month for—I am on bail for that at the present time.

Q. Did not you offer a man as bail for you in tint case, and represent him as a housekeeper? A. I could not tell that; I was in prison—he was examined before I came out—I do not know what he answered—I did not tell the Magistrate that he was a housekeeper; how could I, and I in the Computer?—I have the looking after of three houses in the narrow court belonging to the head landlord, who lives over the water—those houses are let out in floors—I do not know whether that is the case with most of the houses in the court—I left off work about half-past 11 o'clock that night—my mangle was in my own house—I did not hear any row that night—I heard Mrs. Lyons and her husband having words—I cannot tell what time that was; it was before I left off mangling—that was all the row I heard—I did not hear Biddy Moore kicking up a row—she was sober when I saw her about 10—I saw her afterwards—I did not follow her into No. 18 to see whether she was sober then—she was sober enough to take care of herself; she might be a little bit In liquor for what I know—she was not drunk—she had taken a little, to be sure—she went into a fit—that was, I dare say, after the Shoe-lane policeman left me—I went up again towards her—it was after she sat by the deceased with the bread and meat when she came out of No. 18—our court is always quiet, the narrow court is—you accuse both courts of being alike—it is not my place to go round watching people—there might he words in the broad part of the court, for what I know—sometimes I go to bed at 10—my sight is not very good; I am short-sighted, and have been so since 1811, when I was struck with lightning—it has very much affected my sight—I do not think there were above half-a-dozen persons in the court at the time the prisoner struck the deceased with his truncheon; there might be more—I cannot say who they were, no more than I saw Mrs. Lyons—she was behind me, but that was all I took notice of—it was between 1 and 2; nearer to 2 than 1—I heard St. Andrew's clock strike 1 a little before—there can be no mistake about it—it might want 20 minutes or half an hour to 2—a man named Burke lives in the upper part of the court—I did not take any notice of him that night—he might be in the upper part of the court for what I know—there has been a Coroner's Inquest in this case—I attended—I believe all the witnesses who are here to-day attended, not the whole of them—there was my wife and Mrs. Lyons, Jack Moore and me, and the deceased's mother—Burke did not attend—I do not know that the deceased had been imprisoned for theft—I do not know what character he bore; he was a bare stranger to me—I did not know him above a fortnight or three weeks—I have known the prisoner there as a policeman upwards of a month—the deceased was eating the bread and meat between 1 and 2—I understand he went over to Field-lane, and got 11/2 d.-worth of meat, and 1/2 d.-worth of bread—he borrowed 2d. of a young man for it—I did not go with him—I cannot read or write—I can read figures.

Q. Tell me what number that is (making some large figures on the brief, and holding them near the witness). A. 749—no—729 (looking at another number marked in the same manner)—I cannot tell what number that is, because it is such a long distance off.

MR. LOCKE. Q. How many times did you see Cole go up and down the court? A. I dare say I saw him a dozen times—the court is not above four feet wide.

MR. SERJEANT WILKINS. Q. You shall not get out of it in that way;! will put it within four feet of you; now what is it? A. That is more then four feet, but you put his yellow number, and put it close to me?—I have seen the man frequently passing by—I cannot see what that number is.

MR. LOCKE. Q. You say the whole court is about four feet wide? A. It is not four feet—I saw the prisoner five or six times in the coarse of the night passing up and down—I was just alongside of him, and he was underneath the lamp when he passed me—I was much nearer to him than four feet; I was not two feet from him, I was close to him—I might see him I dare say five or six times during the month—he was in my place on the Tuesday night, and Wednesday night, in the same week, when my wife was chastising the girl—the houses I am employed to look after are in the narrow court where I live—Mr. Chislett is the owner, he lives in Trinity-square, in the Borough—they are three houses; he has six, I bad the looking after them all at one time—if there is any money owing to him, he tells me to receive it for him, and when he comes round I give the money over to him—I have done that for upwards of ten years—I did not know Cole at all before he came as a policeman to that court—I knew the former policeman, Smith.

COURT. Q. Had you observed the number on the policeman's coat before that evening, at different times? A. Oh, yes; because I was talking to him before that several times in the night, when he came on duty at 9 o'clock—I do not know what number Lockyer's is, I never took notice of his number, although I have known him this long time—he does duty in that part of the court that goes into Shoe-lane—his duty is down as far as my window by rights; I have often seen him—I have never taken notice of his number, but I have of the prisoner's—he passes by my window, and sometimes might stop at the door and talk to me.

JURY. Q. What was Smith's number? A. I do not know, though I have known him for years, ever since he has been on the beat.

COURT. Q. Smith was the policeman before Cole came, was he? A. No; he does day-duty, the prisoner is the night policeman, he goes off duty about 6 o'clock in the morning, and comes on about nine in the evening—Smith is on Shoe-lane, I never took notice of his number.

JURY. Q. What induced you particularly to notice the No. 849 on the prisoner's coat? A. Because he came up the court on Sunday-night, and the people began to hiss him all down the court—that induced roe to take notice of his number—I had noticed his number several times before—he beat the deceased on the Thursday night before—I was on the Sunday night after Cogan's death that the people hissed him—I had known Cole for a week or a fortnight before this happened—he was up and down the court, but I never made free with the man till a fortnight or so before Cogan's death.

ELIZABETH LONG . I am the wife of the last witness; we life at 6, Plumtree-court. I had known the prisoner about a fortnight or three weeks before Saturday, 5th July—he had been doing duty in our court, as a night policeman—on the Thursday before Saturday, 5th July, from a quarter before 12 o'clock to a quarter past, I saw him beat and ill-use Cogan very much, who I had known about a fortnight—Cogan said, "If I have done anything wrong, lock me up; what have I done more than any of the rest?"—Cole said, "You b—, I will do you"—on the Saturday night when this took place, I was in the court, and saw Cogan about half-past 11; but I saw him with Cole just after 12—I saw him standing at No. 7 door; he was doing nothing; he had a piece of bread and meat in his hand—Cole ran after him, and he ran away; Cole said he would have him before the night was out—I

saw Cogan again, as near as I can say, at twenty or twenty-five minutes to 2; I will not exactly say which, because I may be wrong in the dock—I saw Cole have him by the left-hand, by the collar of the blouse which he had on—I was looking out of my bedroom window—they were then between No. 9 and No. 21. between that and the gully-hole—I was able from my window to tee him quite plainly—I saw Cole strike him about half-a-dozen blows on the right side of his bead; he might have struck more; I speak within compass—he said, "For God's sake! don't murder me: I will not do it again"—Cole said, "You b—, I will murder you;" and he struck him with his left-hand, and took him into No. 8 passage, and I saw no more—he struck the half-dozen blows with his bludgeon; he was dragging him by his collar—Cogan said, "Policeman, don't murder me"—Cole said, "You b—, I will do you;" and struck him the last blow on the right side of the head—the deceased had a cap on—it was a violent blow, and it was near the ear I should say by what I saw—I could see the door of No. 28 quite distinctly from my window, but not into the passage—I could see that Cole went into the passage; they were in the passage some minutes—I did not see them come out—while they were in the passage, Lockyer, No. 264, who they call the Shoe-lane policeman, came up—he does duty in Shoe-lane—that court leads into Shoe-lane—he stood on the opposite side, turned his bull's-eye on, and said, "Halloo!"—I could see that he turned his light into the passage of No. 28; he must have seen the persons in the passage—Cole was in the passage at that time with the deceased—Mrs. Lyons was there; she was quarreling with her husband, and he would not let her go in—my husband was there, standing at No. 7 door; from No. 7 he could see No. 28, not into the passage, but he went forward towards it—I saw no more after Cogan was thrown into the passage; I saw him again about a quarter to 6 on Sunday morning; he was dead, and had been deed some time—when I saw him at half-past 11, and at 12, and again at twenty minutes to 2, he was perfectly sober, as I am at this moment—I did not see him do anything to the police—I never saw anything wrong of him—I had known him about a fortnight—he was, I think, about 21 years of age.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Is this a quiet and orderly court? A. It is like all other courts where low characters live; sometimes there are rows, like all other low neighbourhoods—I do not think I ever saw it more quiet than it was that night—there were no words but those between Mrs. Lyons and her husband, till this occurred—I have had no children by a former husband—I was married in 1822—I can bring my certificate in five minutes—my husband has a son and daughter by a former wife, that is no disgrace to me—my husband's son has held a respectable situation for the last ten years; I brought him up from two years old, he is now thirty-six—I have got two boys and two girls alive out of fourteen—the boys are not at home—you know where one of them is, and need not ask me the question; he was transported about three years ago, not to my misconduct, or his father's; the other son is at home—I am surprised at your asking whether he has ever been in prison, a child nine years old—I have no other son that has been in Prison, never but one; if you will let me have the truth I will answer you—I beg your pardon, my Lord, for speaking so bold—I cannot see from my bed-room into the passage of No. 28, certainly not, I did not say that I could—I never said any such thing—I cannot—I had a pigeon-box within six yards of the window on the night of 6th July—it was not before the window—it was there when I was a witness before the coroner, and when I was a witness at he Mansion-house—it was taken away on the 21st of last month—I do

not know whether that was the day after I came from the Mansion-house—the man I sold it to, Daniel Lawler, took it away—my son, who is gone, kept pigeons there, and I kept them since he left, and the birds laid one egg—I think they were taken away while I was at the Mansion-house—I am not sure, for I had had the things sold; I do not know, I am not positive, the man is down-stairs who bought them—I cannot say whether it was while the examination was going on before the Lord Mayor; I had sold them four weeks before to this man, and I would not let him take them away until such time as the birds had feathers—he took them away before my husband came home out of prison, because I said my husband would not part with them—I did not, while I was attending the coroner, hear one of the jury say they did not believe I could see from one place to the other—I beard of it at the Mansion-house—that man (Mr. Lewis, the solicitor) spoke to me—I do not know on what day it was—I do not know the day of the month—I did not keep it in my head—I suppose you can refer to Mr. Lewis's papers—I really do not know whether that inquiry by Mr. Lewis was made before T removed the pigeon-house—I will not swear anything about it, the man can tell—I dare say it is on the papers, but I did not look—on my oath I saw the man I represent to be Cole draw his bludgeon from his pocket; he was then between No. 21 and No. 9, near the gully-hole—I cannot say whether I saw the first blows that were given to the man—I cannot say how far between No. 9 and No. 21 he was when he drew his truncheon and beat the man, but he was very near; I think I could step from where he was, between the two doon—he was between the two doors and the gully-hole—he struck the last blow at the side of the gully-hole, which is in the corner of the court—I had got into bed before the row began—when I heard the row I got out of bed—I believe it was 25 or 20 minutes to 2; I cannot say to a moment, I am on my oath, and I will not go from it—I believe, as far as I can tell, that the pigeon-house was at the window when I first went to the Mansion-house—I do not know the day of the month.

MR. PARRY. Q. About how far is the gully-hole you speak of from No. 28? A. I really do not know; not very far; about as far as from here to the door, or perhaps it may not be quite so far—I saw Cole strike blows at the other side of the gully-hole; that is the side towards No. 28—there is a stone parapet below my window—I do not know how wide it is—the pigeon-house stood on it on 5th July, when I was looking out—I could see No, 28 when it was there—it was taken away on 21st Aug.—I sold it to Dan Lawler when she had laid one egg, and then she laid another, and she sat eighteen days—I sold it before 5th July, but he did not take it away till 21st Aug., because the bird was sitting; and she hatched her young, and they got feathered; and I said, "Pray don't take them now, but take then before my husband comes"—it was on the 20th of last month a policeman named Moss came into my room, and I said, "Cannot I see 28?" and he said, "Yes," and was satisfied—Alderman Wilson also came to look, and I showed him the mark where the pigeon-house had been—a person named Simmons came, and looked the other day from the window—I explained to him while he was looking how f stood, and the situation of the pigeon-house—two boxes were placed in the situation of the pigeon-house, and much higher—he then looked to see whether he could see No. 28, and he was able to see it—he came at nearly half-past 10 o'clock—there is a gas-lamp in the court, at the corner, projecting from the wall, and several persons have been there from time to time, to look.

MARY LYONS . I am the wife of Timothy Lyons, of 8, Plumtree-court.

I lived there on 5th July—I have seen the deceased about the court for three weeks, and knew him by sight for about a fortnight or three weeks before 5th July—I saw him on the night of 5th July, as near as I can tell, near 12 o'clock, before I saw the policeman—I nearly passed him as he was standing with his back to the wall, in the court—he appeared sober—I saw nobody else near him at that time—he appeared, to the best of my knowledge, to be eating a bit of something; whether it was a bit of bread and meat, or what it was, I do not know—I did not go in because my husband was drunk, and had shut me out—I went into the next house—I did not see Cogan again till about 20 minutes before two—the prisoner Cole was then running after him, and he was running away from the policeman towards his own house, No. 28—I do not know that I had ever seen Cole before that night—I had not seen or spoken to him before that night, because he did not belong to our beat—I did not exactly look at him so as to swear to him, but I took notice of him about half an hour before that, he was going to take me to the station for scolding my husband—he ran after Cogan, who was, about as near as I can say, two or three yards from the side of his own door, and took him by the side of his neck, with his left hand—Cogan took bold of the door by the side, to try to rescue himself from the policeman—he said, "Don't hit me, I live up here"—it was at the door of No. 28, where he did live—the policeman had got hold of him, trying to drag him backwards into the street, but he could not—Cole took and pushed him on to the step of the door, and Cogan fell inwards, into the passage—he fell forwards—while he was lying in the passage, the policeman put his hand into his right-hand pocket, and took out his staff, and struck him with it on the right side of the head and the shoulder; but I could not see clearly, because the policeman was betwixt him and me—there were several blows on the head, and one on the right arm, the shoulder at least—while the policeman was striking him in that way, Cogan said, "For God's sake, don't murder me; I won't come down any more to-night"—they were heavy blows, such as I should not like to have—Cogan said, "Do," and the policeman said, "You b—r, I will do you before I leave you"—as my door opened, I went in; and at the shutting of the door, Mr. Lockyer, the Shoe-lane policeman, came down, and turned his bull's-eye on to the left and to the right, and said, "Halloo! what is here?"—he came to the corner, and I went in-doors, shut my door, and saw no more of it—he turned his bull's-eye towards where the deceased lay and the policeman.

Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Is Lockyer still on the beat there? A. Yes, I saw him yesterday—he is still a policeman, and is in the City-police dress—Cogan was not a countryman of mine, to my knowledge—I am an Irishwoman—I do not know what countryman Cogan was—I never spoke to him—his mother tells me he was twenty—on e years old—he was about the middle stature—I cannot tell you what he worked at—he was quiet—he made no resistance, and used no violence—he allowed himself to he beaten by the policeman, only trying to get away—he never attempted to strike the policeman; he did nothing but beg to he let go—I had a row with my husband that night—that does not occur frequently—I remember that night, on that account—he shut me out because he was tipsy—it was all his fault—it was partly his fault, and partly my own—I was not drunk at all, I was quite sober—when the policeman came up, he threatened to take me into custody if I did not go in—that policeman is the prisoner; I have no doubt of that at all; to my best belief, he is the man—I will not swear exactly—on my oath, he is the roan who threatened to take me into custody—I

am quite sure; I do not say I can swear to him—when he threatened to take me, he was so near to me that he put me down in the mud; but I did not look into his face—I told him if he wanted me to go to the station I would go with him—before he dragged me into the mud, he was quite close to me, and I was sober—I told you before I could not positively swear to the man—I said, "To the best of my belief, that is the man"—I was not able to see the face of the person who was beating the deceased—nobody pointed the prisoner out to me—when I came to the Coroner's Inquest, they said, "Is that the man?" and I said, "To my best belief, that is the man."

COURT. Q. Where was it you saw the blows given by the policeman to Cogan, was it in the court or the passage of the house? A. It was not exactly the passage, the man's head was inside the door, and his heels outwards; he knocked him partly into the passage and partly out, his bead was in the passage—no one could see those blows given except they saw into the passage—he was very near the step of the door, and the lamp is so clear that he could be seen—the blows were given after the policeman had knocked him into the passage, not before—he gave him a blow and knocked him down—he did not take his truncheon out till after he had pushed him into the passage—the policeman was not in the passage when he took his truncheon out—the young man had been thrown into the passage by the policeman, who was just outside, or just in the door, and was striking him inwards, so that the actual blows could not be seen by anybody unless they could look into the passage. Q. Supposing a person stood in such a position that they could not see anything which took place in the passage, could they possibly see those blows actually fall on the head? A. Yes, they could, because they were not quite in the passage, but partly in, and the gas shows in so clear; and it was just upon daylight, just upon the breaking of daylight—it was just getting a bit of a light at the time, and the gas was so clear that of course they could see anything.

JOHANNA KING . I am a widow, and live at 18, Plumtree-court. I knew the deceased man, Cogan—on Sunday-morning, 6th July, between 2 and 3 o'clock I think it was, but I cannot tell the hour—I was sitting on the step of my door—I saw the prisoner follow Cogan into my passage, he caught him by the throat with his hand, and pulled him out of the passage—a policeman, who we used to call Buffalo, was with him—it was Lockyer, the Shoe-lane policeman—I do not know what was done to Cogan outside—I saw nothing further—I went up stairs, and went to bed.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT WILKINS. Q. You think it was between 2 and 3 o'clock? A. I think it might be, but I cannot tell the time, I cannot read or write—I did not hear St. Andrew's clock at that time—there was no row In the court to prevent my hearing it, but I did not notice it—I think it was that time, because I had been at a day's washing—I am sometimes washing till three in the morning—it is sometimes 3 o'clock before I come home from where I wash, at Mrs. Connor's, over Westminster-bridge—it was very nearly three when I left there, and then I had to walk from there to Plumtree-court—I cannot say how far my door-step is from the gully-hole—I should think as far as from me to the wall of this court—the prisoner passed me as I was sitting on the step of the door, and said to me, "Come out of the door"—I got up out of the door; he passed me, and I stood alongsides of him, and he said, "Don't interfere;" and with that he struck him as he had got him by the throat, and dragged him out of the passage, and farther than that I did not see—I then went up-stairs—I do not know how many other lodgers there are in the house, that is more than I can tell—there is

only one other in the same room as me—I had not bad a drop of the poteen that night—I had been home from work more than an hour when this happened.

CHARLES WILLIAMS . I live at 19, Plumtree-court. In July I lived at 28 with the deceased, Cogan—I had known him two years—he was about twenty or twenty—on e years old—he slept in the same room that I did—on Sunday morning, 6th July, about twenty minutes past 4 o'clock, I saw him lying on the bed frothing at the mouth, and making a noise in his throat—I had seen him when I was going to bed at half-past one, he was then solid and sober—I knew him before, and was in the habit of seeing him from day to day—he was in good health—when I found him in this state I went for a surgeon; a gentleman came to see him, but he died before he came—we slept in a back-room at the top of the house, four stories high—when I went to bed at half-past one I went to sleep immediately.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARK SON. Q. Do you remember Cogan telling you that he had gone up-stairs to change his coat to cheat the b—coppers? A. I do not; I never said anything to that effect—the coppers mean police—I have often heard that term before in the court—I am a labouring man, and get my living in the best way I can—I did not know that Cogan was a convicted thief—I knew nothing of his character—I have been four times in prison myself for different offences—I was in prison once for potstealing, and I got three months for making an attempt to pick pockets, they said, at Charlton fair—it was pewter-pots—I do not know that that is what counterfeit money is made with—I had three months for that also—it was about twelve months ago that I had the three months for the attempt—I was at Maid stone—I have been once convicted since, for taking a paltry door-mat—I had three months for that; and I once had fourteen days in the Compter for insulting the police; the policemen came and insulted me, and I took a pintpot to use over his head, and they accused me of stealing it—I was not convicted of assaulting the police—those are the only occasions on which I have been in prison—I am twenty-three years old—I cannot say when the first offence was.

JOHN BURKE . I am a labouring man, and live at 9, Plumtree-court. I knew the deceased, Cogan, for three or four years—I heard of his death on the morning of 6th July—on the night before I had been getting a drop of something to drink, and was coming home between 1 and 2 o'clock, and saw Cogan between the corner of the court and No. 9—he was playing, joking about the court—he was sober—he asked me to lift him up to the lamp—I was about ten or twelve yards from it at the time—the lamp is at my door, and projects out from the wall—I believe there is a gas-pipe up the wall, leading to the lamp—he said he wanted to light his pipe—I did not notice whether he had a pipe with him—I held him up for a minute or two, but could not see what he did—I then lowered him down—he put his knees on my back, and got off as easy as I should put a child down, on the pavement—he had no fall—he then walked away, and I left him in the court—I then saw that the lamp was out—it had been alight before—about half an hour after that the lamplighter came to put out the lamps—I did not see Cogan again till he was dead.

Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. I suppose you and he were not there to put out the light for any purpose? A. No; I am sure of that—he did not tell me he was going to put it out—I was surprised at it—I did not see how he did it—I know that gas is put out by turning it out—I should not light my pipe at the thing it turn it out by—I went to bed that night

at about a quarter to 3 o'clock—after I saw him, I went to the corner of Field-lane, and had some coffee—I did not tell Mr. Cale that it was a quarter to 3 when the lamp was put out—I know Mr. Cale—I believe he is an inspector of police—I told him it was a quarter to 3 when I went to bed—I swear I did not tell him it was a quarter to 3 when the lamp was put out, and 3 when I went up-stairs—my name is John Burke: I am quite sure about that—it is not Sullivan—I do not know whether I have ever gone by that name—I never have to my recollection, or called myself so—I know Chamberlain, the relieving-officer—I do not recollect whether I have ever represented to him that my name was Sullivan—I will not swear I have not—I do not know whether I have obtained relief from him by using that name.

NICHOLAS SIMMONS . On Tuesday night, 16th Sept., about half-past 10 o'clock, I went to Plumtree-court, and saw the sink or gully-hole there—there is a lamp projecting from the corner of a house, nearly over the gully. hole, not quite—I went to No. 6, where Mr. and Mrs. Long live, and went into the garret, which is a bed-room—I looked out at the window, and cook see the door-posts of No. 28—the door was open—two band-boxes, two feet two inches high were placed on the parapet on my right, by my direction, and I could then see No. 28—a gentleman who was with me went and stood at No. 28, and I could see him—I could see the gully-hole, and the lamp—I could see from the lamp and gully-hole along the court to No. 28—it was a cloudy night overhead, but a clear night—there was no moon or start—No. 28 was on my right—Mrs. Long looked out at the window while I was there—she showed me the attitude in which she looked out, and she could from there plainly see persons passing up from the corner to 28.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT WILKINS. Q. What are you? A. I am doing nothing at present—I have been apprenticed to the medical profession, but am not following it—I have walked the hospitals, but have not passed my examination—I might have, if I had followed the profession—I went to this court with a gentleman who told me he came from the office of the City Solicitor—he requested me to accompany him—I am slightly acquainted with him—his name is Stuchbury—no one from the other side went with us, or had any notice that I am aware of—I am now living on my private means in the Hampstead-road, in unfurnished lodgings—Mr. Stuchbury did not come to me at the Hampstead-road—I met him at a public-house, next door to the Middlesex Hospital—I was there first—I did not meet him by appointment—I have received no payment for this, further than having a long strip of paper put into my hand with half-a-crown—I have had some silver since, but I consider it more as a private loan from his private pocket—I had half-a-crown last night—that is all I have had—I have had no promise of any more—I went to the garret of this house, and Mrs. Long came up in a few minutes—No. 28 is on the opposite side—there is a slight elbow, or bend in the court (describing it on paper)—I could not see anything that took place more than four or six inches within the door of No. 28—I would not be certain that I could see an inch within the door—I could see both the jambs of the door—it was not Mr. Stuchbury who placed himself where I could see him—it was Mr. Pearson, jun.

GEORGE MARQUICK STUCHBURY . I am a clerk in the office of Mr. Charles Pearson, the City-solicitor. I selected the last witness to make the examination—I knew him slightly before—I called on two persons first in order to select a person entirely unconnected with the court, and who did not know the locality; they were not at home, and as it was petting late, and I saw Mr. Simmonds, I thought he would do just as well, never having been

in the court, as he told me—Mr. Pearson, jun., Mr. Pearson's nephew, went with me—I witnessed the examination of the locality; I have done so on several occasions—I believe several persons on the part of the prisoner have examined the place also—at the police-court a model of the place was produced on the part of the prisoner—it was made by inspector Mitchel I believe—I have not seen Mr. Moss or Mr. Mitchell here to-day—they were before the Magistrate—the prisoner called several witnesses before the Magistrate—I looked out at this window myself, and could see the door of No. 28, and the gully-hole—I have heard what Mr. Simmonds has stated, that is correct as far as my observation went.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT WILKINS. Q. Is there a City surveyor? A. Yes; I did not give any notice to the other side that I was going to take Mr. Simmonds to make a survey—Mr. Pearson knew that I was going; in fact, he went himself—I did not conceive it necessary to have a model made; as there was one made on behalf of the prisoner—I have not made a plan or model, or had one made.

CHARLES PEARSON, ESQ . I am the City Solicitor, and am conducting this prosecution by the desire of the Lord Mayor. I considered it my duty, and directed my clerk to obtain some disinterested person, unconnected with the police, unconnected with the Corporation, and unconnected with any of the parties in the court, to go and look at this window, to ascertain if the door of No. 28 could be seen from there—I have been there myself with the Counsel—I looked out at the window, and could see No. 28 from it, the sink, and all between.

MARY COGAN . I am a widow, and live at 123, Hounsditch. The deceased was my son—his name was William—he would have been twenty—on e years old on 19th Nov.

ROBERT TOPPING . I am a surgeon. On Sunday morning, 6th July, about half-past 4, or nearly 5 o'clock, I was sent for by Williams, who has been examined, and went to 28, Plum tree-court, and found the deceased there; he was quite dead—his coat was off, and on a cursory view I saw contusions extending from the muscles of the right shoulder—his shirt was not off, but I put my hand under his shirt—there were contusions also on the right side of the neck—I observed mucus from the nostrils and mouth—that was all the examination I made then—I returned in two hours and made a post-mortem examination of the external parts of the body—I pulled the shirt down over the shoulder, and noticed discoloration, extending down the arm—a slight one over the lower part of the wrist, and likewise up the right side of the neck, extending behind the right ear as far as the lower edge of the temporal muscle—one blow or one fall could not, in my judgment have occasioned those contusions—blows or falls would have produced them, but they must have been several—I took off the scalp, which was unusually vascular, and I found the dura-mater rather more adherent than is usual at the inner surface: there was as light fissure in the lateral sinus, which is a tube conveying the blood from the brain to the heart; it runs in a groove to the lower part of the occipital bone, on a level with the ear—the fissure was in the lower part behind the ear, and beneath it—I made a particular observation of the external skin over the fissure, there was no abrasion, but there was a considerable contusion, which might have arisen either from a fall or violence of any kind; a blow with a truncheon would have done it—I have heard the evidence to-day, and consider the blows the deceased is stated to have received might have caused this—the immediate cause of death was extravasation of blood pressing on the brain from the rupture of the lateral sinus, and I

attribute the rupture of the lateral sinus to external violence, such as I saw marks of behind the ear.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT WILKINS. Q. Might not all that you saw, I do not mean externally, but on removing the scalp and opening the head, have been produced without external violence? A. It is possible—I have never met with such cases in my practice—I have had many cases of apoplexy—the lateral sinus is a vessel of a triangular form, formed from a reflexion of the dura-mater—it is not a thin vessel, but has three coats, the same as other blood-vessels—I have frequently met with ruptures of vessels on the brain without any violence—they were vessels composed the same as this vessel—a person under the influence of drink is much more liable to strong excitement than a person that is sober—strong excitement would not produce such a rupture as this, because it is a vessel of lam calibre—I have never known a vessel of large calibre to burst from excitement—I have known the largest vessels in the body to rupture from excitement, but not unless there has been some previous disease of the coats of it, which there never had been to my knowledge in this case—supposing this man to have received blows from some person, and that the fissure was produced by the blows, I should expect the effusion or extravasation of blood to have produced coma—I should have expected there would be symptoms of coma immediately—I do not think it possible for a person, after having received a blow which would rupture this vessel, to be playing about the court and climbing up the lamp-post—supposing the fissure in the first instance to have been only slight, and the blood to have flowed, it would have produced palpable effects according to the extent of it—if the blood flowed on to the brain I should have expected immediate effects to have exhibited themselves in a greater or less degree—supposing that up to the time of his first climbing up the lamp-post there had been a slight flowing of blood on the brain, I should expect that the mere effect of climbing, or a man's raising himself up on another man's back, would immediately increase the fissure so as to produce the immediate results of apoplexy.

Q. Supposing the man to have been larking and playing about the yard, and getting up lamp-posts, might a fall from the lamp-post have cansed that fissure in the vessel? A. Yes, it is possible; it is not probable, unless he had been of a full plethoric habit—it is my impression this was the result of excitement, accelerated by violence—it is possible that if he was in a state of intoxication, and provoking violence by wrestling with other people, that might have produced it—supposing him to have been in a state of excitement from drink and previous quarrelling, the very effort of springing up a lamppost might have produced it—supposing the fissure to have been made at 25 minutes to 2 o'clock, and there to have been an immediate flowing of blood, I should not have expected to have found the person alive at 4.

MR. LOCKE. Q. Will you describe the situation of the sinus, and how it is covered? A. It grooves the occipital bone, which is the bone at the back of the head, and also the temporal bone and the parietal bone—it runs in a groove in each of these bones—it is about one-eighth of an inch in size—I believe the rupture of the vessel was occasioned either by excitement or by violence; but judging by the external appearances, I shoud say by violence.

COURT. Q. That is, if you find an internal injury of this kind, and if you find, precisely corresponding with it, an external appearance of violence, you would consider one the cause and the other the effect, rather than the possibility of apoplexy arising? A. Yes; none of the houes through which the sinus passes were in the least degree injured—a blow, or fall, or any violence

applied behind the ear might rupture the sinus without shattering those bones the skull of this man was more than usually thick.

WILLIAM HENRY SHEEHT . I am a member of the College of Surgeons, and have been in the profession some years. I assisted Mr. Topping in the post-mortem examination—I have been in Court, and heard what has been stated by the witnesses in reference to the violence—I heard Mr. Topping examined—my observation also discovered the external appearances he states—there was a contusion of the shoulder muscles—in my judgment, the external appearances were produced by blows of some kind; I do not think they could have been produced by one blow or one fall—I have heard the witnesses state that the right-side of the man's head was repeatedly beaten with a policeman's truncheon; supposing that to be true, repeated beatings might have caused the appearances I observed—I agree with Mr. Topping as to the cause of death, the rupture of the sinus caused by violence—I observed a contusion externally, but no abrasion—violence of some sort must have caused the contusion; I cannot say what—I attribute the breaking of the sinus to violence—the contusion might be caused by a fall or a kick—the sinus runs in a groove of the bones—the rupture of the sinus might be caused by a blow without the bones being at all broken.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT WILKINS. Q. Suppose there had been a blow, such as has been described here to-day: would you not expect to find that there would be some injury to the bone? A. I should; the effect of taking stimulating drinks is to accelerate the heart's action—if a person under the influence of drink was running violently, that might have induced the rapture of that vessel; but I think it is improbable—if the person running was in fear of another, the fear would also tend to create excitement—those two causes combined might have tended to produce the rupture of that vessel—I have never seen a rupture of the sinus without a fracture of the skull; but excitement might do it without violence—supposing the man to have received a blow at 25 minutes to 2 o'clock, which had produced a rupture of the vessel, an escape of blood from that vessel would be the immediate consequence, which after a time I should expect to produce stupor—I cannot say after how long; that depends upon the size of the opening—I saw the size of this rupture—supposing it to have been caused by these blows, I should not have expected the effect to be immediately apparent—it might be an hour, or two or three hours—supposing the rupture to be one-eighth of an inch, I should consider that the consequence of blood escaping would be almost immediately palpable—if it was not so large, but supposing the exertion of climbing up a lamp-post to have increased it, I should expect the consequences to be immediate, if it enlarged the opening.

MR. PARRY. Q. What quantity of blood had been extravasated? A. Two or three ounces; if the opening was very small at first, the blood would ooze out gradually, but it might become larger, and the man might die suddenly—the blood oozing out was the cause of death—the time when death would take place would depend on the opening in the vessel—it is impossible that any stimulating drinks could have caused the external violence on the man's head, nor could mental excitement of any sort—I attribute the cause of the rupture to violence, not to mental excitement or stimulating drinks—I have heard the evidence that the deceased was twenty—on e yearsold, and that he was sober on this occasion.

COURT. Q. What height was he? A. He was of short stature, and a very strong, powerful, muscular young man—his short neck tended to apoplexy—that does not often occur in young men of twenty—on e—half an ounce

of blood extravasated on the brain would produce perceptible effects; supposing it to be very slight, the effect would be gradual.

EDWARD DIGBY . I am a surgeon, at 205, Fleet-street. I was present at the post-mortem examination—I had two assistants—I was present after the skull-cap was removed—I saw the rupture of the sinus, and observed the external marks of violence—they were immediately over the rupture of the sinus—I observed the skull—it was more than usually thick—under those circumstances I attribute the rupture of the sinus to a blow or a fall; to external violence of some sort—I have been in Court, and heard the evidence—external violence, such as has been described, might rupture the sinus without injuring the bone.


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