Coppermine (31 page)

McCaul was in full flight now, demonstrating all his talents of oratory. He paced the courtroom floor, commanded the stage, and the audience went with him willingly.

“Bloody Falls. The irony would be amusing were the crimes not so cruel and dreadful. They sought only to bring enlightenment to these people, and what happened?” Here McCaul’s deep voice broke for the first time. “The murderers stabbed them, several times, shot them, cut their throats, mutilated them, and then went back to their tribe, bragging of their deed!”

Creed listened, deeply alarmed. This was the tangent he feared most. McCaul’s eyes filled with tears of sorrow and fury. His voice cracked again with emotion as he continued.

“They told the whole of the revolting details to the assembled crowd. They told, gentlemen of the jury, how, after they had killed these men, they ripped them open, tore out their livers, and each ate a portion.” He whispered the word: “Cannibalism!”

Two women in the middle of the courtroom had their handkerchiefs out, sniffing back tears. McCaul pulled out his own handkerchief again to address both the perspiration and his own hot tears. He paused for a moment, staring down at the floor, overcome with emotion.

Creed had found the opening comments both inspired and entertaining, but now McCaul finished with a dark new message.

“The lesson we must teach these people is that a life is sacred. Murder cannot be tolerated. And if they commit it, they will be caught and arrested, they will be tried, and if they are found guilty of murder, they will be made to pay the required penalty. We must render justice, swift and sure, and send this message north: not justice done but justice taught! I expect you to do your duty. Nothing less than a guilty verdict and the ultimate penalty are acceptable in this case. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Jack sat there stunned. They were in fact going to try to hang them.

As McCaul sat down, Wallbridge stood up. “I object!”

Harvey took a deep breath to summon his patience and Creed’s heart sank a little deeper. There was a flurry of muted conversation in the courtroom. The ultimate penalty was on everyone’s lips: death. “They’re going to hang ’em.”

Uluksuk looked askance at Angituk, who moved over to sit beside him.

“What did that man say?” Uluksuk asked her.

“He thinks you should be killed,” Angituk told them without hesitation. The defendants exchanged a look of shock.

Mainprize and his colleagues hurriedly made notes. Two ran for the telephones. The Bishop and his priest seemed satisfied as they smoothed out their long black cassocks and adjusted the crucifixes in their sashes. The jury remained stone-faced. Harvey called the room to order.

Wallbridge continued. “I object, your Lordship, to my learned colleague’s pointed statements calculated to prejudice the jury by unfair and inflammatory remarks! Such an epic display of rhetoric leaves little chance for a fair trial. It seems to me it would hardly be right to proceed unless you empanel a new jury.”

McCaul responded as if personally insulted and stood again to reply. “I believe I put the case quite simply, your Lordship, but you must admit that with a case of such importance we must expand the context beyond merely outlining evidence. But again, I leave myself in your Lordship’s hands.”

Justice Harvey cleared his throat. He wanted to get on with it. “I am of the opinion this jury can be trusted, Mr. Wallbridge. Therefore, your request is denied. The court would now like to hear your opening remarks.”

Wallbridge rose and faced the jury. He swallowed deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and consulted his notes for a moment. “I submit that by the time you have heard all the evidence, you members of the jury will conclude that the killings were justified. Thank you.”

Wallbridge sat down and there was a moment of shocked silence. Creed stared at Wallbridge. Justice Harvey was as shocked as anyone.

“Is that all you have to say, Mr. Wallbridge?”

“It is at this time, your Lordship.”

Creed glared at him and leaned forward to whisper, “That’s it? What are you doing?”

“The jury doesn’t want another earful right now. They want to get on with the trial.”

Creed bit his tongue.

Justice Harvey addressed the court. “It is almost noon. This court is adjourned. We will resume at two o’clock to hear the Crown’s case.” Justice Harvey rose and disappeared through the side door.

Everyone in the courtroom stood but Creed. He had no impulse to join in the cacophony of conversation around him. Creed looked over at Sinnisiak and was amazed to see the Eskimo propped comfortably in his seat in a deep, blissful sleep.

WITH THE NEW RANK OF INSPECTOR,
and the title of Chief Investigating Officer in the case, Creed was the first witness to be examined by Crown counsel McCaul. His black eyes peered into Creed’s.

“Now, Inspector Creed, you are a distinguished veteran and survivor of the war that still rages across the ocean in Europe?” The black eyes prompted him to respond to the rhetorical question.

“Yes.”

“You have seen a lot in your young life.”

“It has been my privilege.”

Creed wondered why he had made that pompously humble statement. It was no privilege. He wished he’d never seen Europe. McCaul was manipulating him already

“You travelled many months across uncharted lands enduring these hardships of isolation to investigate and make arrests in this remarkable case.”

“I enjoy the land and the travel, sir. It was no hardship for me.”

McCaul recognized this direction of questioning was gaining no points.

“Tell us what you found at Bloody Falls.”

“There is a high granite hill that the Coppermine River dissects at the falls, and to the west, down a slope, I located the qamutik sled that belonged to the priests. On the far side I located the remains of Father Le Roux.”

“How did you know it was the priest?”

“There was a hand-sewn tag on the scrap of shirt:
Père Le Roux.”

“Can you describe the remains?”

“They had been dead almost three years. They had had protection under flat rocks. The cold had dried them. Mummified them, in fact. Wolves or foxes had been at them and some of the limbs had been scattered, but I was able to study parts of the torso and determine the cause of death.”

“What did you determine?”

“Father Le Roux had been stabbed, several times. And there was trauma to the skull.”

“Did you locate Father Rouvière?”

“I did. He was some fifty yards away. His body was in a similar condition. Animals had taken much of him away, but I determined in the mummified torso and the splintered rib bones that there was a gunshot wound in the upper back and several knife wounds to the skin of the torso. The head had been cleaved, halving the skull, I assume by an axe.”

“In both cases you could assess the stomach skin of the torso. What did you see there?”

“In both cases there were identical crescent-shaped incisions in the right abdomen.”

“And what did these indicate to you, Inspector Creed?”

“Similar incisions are made by the Eskimos in a caribou they have killed. It would indicate that the livers had been removed.”

“And presumably consumed immediately, do you think?”

“That is custom, so I think that not unlikely.”

One of the women who had been sobbing earlier that morning tried to stand up and collapsed in a faint in the aisle. Harvey declared a ten-minute recess and disappeared into his chambers while the clerks and several men in the audience attempted to revive the woman. She was gently carried out by two men, semi-conscious.

“INSPECTOR CREED,
after leaving the scene of the crime, in your search for the murderers you arrived at the mouth of the Coppermine on November 2, 1916, according to your notes, and met with a community of Eskimos there. The leader’s name was Koeha.”

“That’s correct.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me the two priests had lived with them for a few days three years before. At that time food was scarce at the mouth of the Coppermine and the priests had decided to return to the South. They set off up the river with a sled and two dogs. Two days after the priests left, two hunters from a neighbouring camp passed through on their way up the Coppermine allegedly to meet relatives on their way down.”

“And what were their names?”

“Uluksuk and Sinnisiak.”

“The defendants.”

“Yes, the defendants.”

“Please continue.”

“These two hunters passed through the camp and headed south, following the priests. Three days later they returned with many of the belongings of the priests, including their rifles, cartridges, and clothing. They told Koeha they had killed the white men.”

“Objection.” Wallbridge stood up. “This is hearsay.”

“Sustained. The jury will ignore the last statement.”

“All right,” McCaul continued. “Koeha saw they had the belongings of the priests.”

“Yes.”

“And that was almost three years ago now.”

“Correct.”

“And when you arrived there last year, did Koeha tell you where these murderers could be found?”

“Yes. They were camped just up the coast.”

“And you risked life and limb to apprehend them.”

“I went after them. Located them in their camp … with their families.”

“And did you ask them if they had killed the priests?”

“I did. They informed me that they had, and inquired as to whether I would kill them on the spot.”

“They asked if you were going to kill them! So they knew retribution was on the way?”

Wallbridge had been waiting for an opportunity to slow the Crown’s momentum. “I object to that statement of conjecture.”

“Sustained.”

“Did they fear you?”

“I’m not sure. I think probably. But they were very co-operative.”

“No further questions.”

“I believe they felt very badly about the deaths of the priests.”

“That’ll be all, Inspector. Thank you.”

WALLBRIDGE STOOD UP
to cross-examine Creed. He sensed fertile ground for his clients’ defence in the sentiments of Creed.

“I would like to ask you, Inspector Creed, about your impressions of the Copper Eskimo.”

McCaul rolled his eyes but offered no objection.

“They are living in what we would call a very primitive state,” Creed told the court. “They have had little or no exposure to the white man. They are a simple people, kindly as a rule.”

“What about their intelligence?”

“Well, they are very clever in their work. They adapt brilliantly to conditions. They are inquisitive … curious. But their minds don’t work like ours.”

“They compare more with children, don’t you think?”

“That’s a hard question to answer.”

“But you’ve said they are a simple people.”

“Yes. Simple. But in no way helpless or dependent. They want to examine everything and see how it’s made, how it works.”

“But they are what you would call primitive.”

“Yes. Relative to us, they are primitive.”

Creed avoided the glare he was getting from Angituk.

“And what do you know of their religion?”

On this one, McCaul objected. “The witness is not a trained ethnologist. His comments will be subjective and speculative.”

Justice Harvey gave Creed a gruff smile. “Still, I’m going to allow it for my curiosity. Please answer the question, Inspector.”

“My understanding is they believe in many gods or spirits, who have the potential to be good or bad. Probably the most powerful is Hila, who controls the weather. They neither love her nor hate her. She just is. And they try not to offend her. I believe they find their world full of magic, with marvels happening around them every day. There is no heaven and hell as we know it. Their mythologies are often about fantastic transformation: a boy becomes a fish becomes a bird becomes a tree that becomes a man. Fantastic, but not unlike many of our Christian beliefs.”

This caused an uneasy whispering in the courtroom that McCaul picked up on and interrupted. “May I have a point of clarification, your Lordship. Is the witness comparing Christianity to these simple pagan beliefs?”

“I’m thinking how plausible all our beliefs sound to them: the virgin birth, the loaves and the fishes, water into wine. But their religion is more centred on a philosophy of rituals and taboos.”

“Things they should do and they should not do?” Wallbridge prompted.

“Yes. They do not cook land animals on the ice, or vice versa, or the spirits would be angry. Certain foods are forbidden. They do not sew on a full moon. They do not carve tools near their tents or during lightning storms. They never allow an animal to suffer. There is a time and season for each activity. They weave virtually everything in the natural world into a spiritual pattern of life.”

“Governed by good spirits and bad spirits?”

“Correct.”

“You would call them, then, superstitious?”

“No more than us. It was not that long ago we burned the last witch in England. They fear the unknown. Rightly so. Up there any day could be their last, and so the act of living each day brings them … joy, I guess.”

“Can you tell us about their custom when they kill a caribou?”

“Before skinning and butchering, they cut off some meat, often organ meat, some to eat and a little to give to the spirits.”

“The spirits from the caribou.”

“Yes. They want to keep them happy or the caribou may not come again.”

“Very well. Now, at the time of the arrest you were forced to stay in their igloo for the night. In fact you shared sleeping quarters with these accused murderers for months on the return trip to Edmonton. Were you not in fear for your life? They could have slit your throat and put you under the ice.”

“They wouldn’t do that. I wasn’t a threat and I wasn’t food.”

“So, you feel safe among the Eskimos?”

“As safe as anywhere in the world.”

McCaul objected again to these subjective and irrelevant details that were “muddying the waters.” Justice Harvey agreed. Wallbridge set off on a new line of questioning.

“Inspector, you spoke at length with Koeha, the leader of the people at the mouth of the Coppermine, and you copied down a statement from him about the events at the camp before and after the deaths of the priests and had him sign it. I would like you to read from that statement—”