Chapter Five
Savannah’s timber courthouse was packed to the walls. Word had spread quickly through the small colony of the sensational crime – the first murder in Georgia’s short history – and the dramatic capture of the culprits. By the time Alice and Richard were dragged into the courtroom, shackled hand and foot, a hushed excitement buzzed among the spectators.
Alice blinked in the dim interior, disoriented. They had spent days in the dank town gaol awaiting trial, and this was her first time seeing more than slivers of daylight through the cell bars. Now, confronted with a sea of eager faces, her knees nearly buckled. Only Richard’s steady presence at her side kept her upright.
She spotted familiar figures arrayed at the front of the room: Thomas Causton, the magistrate, sat stern and impassive on the judge’s bench; beside him, Thomas Christie, the town recorder, had quill and ledger ready to document the proceedings. On the opposite side of the bench stood the King’s attorney, brought down from South Carolina to ensure proper English justice in this untested colony.
In the front row of spectators sat General James Oglethorpe himself. Freshly returned from a scouting trip, the colony’s founder had made a point to attend this trial of his indentured servants turned murderers. He watched with an unreadable expression as Alice and Richard were hauled to the dock.
Alice’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure the whole court could hear it. She felt utterly exposed under so many eyes. Her dress was filthy and torn, her face gaunt from sleeplessness. She could only imagine how pitiful she appeared – a far cry from the hopeful girl who had stepped off the boat months ago.
The court crier called for order and silence fell. “This court is now in session,” intoned Causton. “The King’s Justice vs. Richard White and Alice Riley, charged with the willful murder of William Wise.”
At the word “murder,” Alice flinched as a ripple of murmurs swept the room. Richard lifted his chin slightly, as if to steel himself. He bore a bandage under his shirt from the gunshot wound sustained during their capture, and his face was drawn but resolved.
The attorney for the colony stood. He was a sharp-nosed man wearing a powdered wig that seemed too large for his head. “Your Honour,” he addressed Causton, “the Crown will prove that on March 1 of this year, the prisoners White and Riley did feloniously and with malice aforethought slay one William Wise, their master.”
A collective intake of breath from the gallery; even though all knew what the trial was about, hearing it stated so plainly sent a thrill through the crowd.
Alice’s hands, manacled in front of her, clenched together. She could feel Richard tense beside her. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Causton’s gavel banged.
“You will have a chance to speak in due time,” Causton admonished them. “First, let the evidence be presented.”
One by one, witnesses were called. Patrick, the indentured servant from Hutchinson Island, testified how he had returned from the woods to find Wise dead on the cabin floor, his head submerged in a bucket and a neckerchief wound around his neck. The Irishman’s voice shook as he described fleeing in fear to raise the alarm.
Next came the boatman, who confirmed he’d found the body and the absence of Alice and Richard, raising immediate suspicion. Then one of the militiamen who captured them recounted following their trail to the Isle of Hope. He held up the blood-stained dagger taken from Alice and the pistol belonging to Wise that Richard had carried – damning tokens connecting them to the deed.
Alice could barely lift her eyes as each piece of evidence stacked against them. The coin purse and watch they had stolen lay displayed on the evidence table, looking pitifully small yet condemning.
Finally, Thomas Christie, the recorder, took the stand with his ledger of notes. “At the time of arrest and during confinement,” he read in a measured tone, “both prisoners made certain statements as to the crime.”
Alice’s breath caught. They were coming to the crucial moment. She risked a sidelong glance at Richard. His jaw was set, eyes fixed forward.
Christie adjusted his spectacles and continued. “Alice Riley, upon being questioned, stated that she acted under the direction and influence of Richard White. And that White did strangle Mr. Wise while she, Riley, held his head in a pail of water.”
A fresh wave of whispers surged through the courtroom. Alice felt the blood drain from her face. They were repeating the confession she had given under duress in gaol – the confession she now bitterly regretted.
Richard turned to stare at her, betrayal flashing in his eyes. He had not heard her exact words until now. Alice opened her mouth, a silent plea on her lips.
But Christie continued reading the deposition. “Richard White, for his part, denied the murder, claiming that Alice acted of her own accord. However, physical evidence and witness testimony suggest both participated fully.”
General Oglethorpe leaned forward at that, frowning deeply. Causton’s gaze flicked between the two prisoners.
The King’s attorney spoke again, addressing the bench. “Your Honour, the evidence is overwhelming. William Wise was found murdered in brutal fashion. These two were his servants – they fled, were caught with his possessions, and by the lady’s own confession, they together committed this heinous act. There can be no doubt of their guilt.”
He sat, and Causton nodded grimly. “The prisoners will speak.”
All eyes turned to Alice and Richard.
Richard spoke first, his voice raw with emotion. “It’s true we fled, sir. And… and it’s true we hated William Wise.” A gasp from the crowd; Oglethorpe’s brow furrowed. “He was a cruel master, your Honour. He beat us, starved us, and worse.” Richard’s voice cracked but he pushed on. “That morning – ” he shot a glance at Alice, “ – I came upon him beating Alice terribly. I intervened. We… we fought. He threatened to kill us both. We feared for our lives. What happened after – ” Richard struggled for words. “We never meant for things to go so far.”
Alice’s heart twisted. Richard was not exactly denying the act, but trying to cast it in a light of self-defense born of abuse. She could see some women in the audience exchange looks of sympathy at his mention of beatings.
Causton’s face remained stern. “Are you admitting that you killed Mr. Wise, then?”
Richard hesitated, knuckles white as he gripped the dock railing. Finally: “Yes. But it was not malicious aforethought. It was in the heat of desperation.”
A murmur ran through the hall. Alice realized tears were on her cheeks. She must speak too – but what could she say? If she echoed Richard’s account, perhaps they might win a scrap of mercy.
All heads swiveled to her now. She felt dizzy, but forced herself to speak. “M-Mr. Wise…” she began softly. She remembered the humiliation, the agony she had endured at that man’s hands. Her voice gained strength. “He treated us worse than animals. He…he hurt me, in ways no decent man would. What we did – ” Her eyes went to Richard; she chose her words carefully, voice trembling. “ – we did it out of terror, not malice. We truly thought if we didn’t stop him, he would kill us in time.”
A few in the crowd murmured at that. One gray-haired lady in the back dabbed her eyes. But the jurymen and magistrates remained stony.
Magistrate Causton folded his hands. “The court acknowledges Mr. Wise’s unsavory reputation,” he said gravely. “But law cannot tolerate servants slaying their master, whatever the provocation. Order must be maintained in the colony.” He looked almost pained as he pronounced the next words. “The sentence, upon unanimous conviction by the jury, is death by hanging.”
Several women in the audience gasped. Alice swayed on her feet. She heard Richard exhale as if punched.
Causton raised a hand for quiet. “However,” he continued, raising his voice, “this court will not act in rashness. We are mindful of circumstances. Mr. White and Ms. Riley, have you anything further to say before sentence is carried out?”
This was the moment for last pleas. Alice clutched the dock rail. She could barely find her voice. Her life hung in the balance of a few words.
“Mercy, sir,” she whispered. “I beg mercy. If not for me, then…” She faltered, an idea forming. A desperate, wild idea.
Richard stared at her, perplexed, as did the spectators.
Alice took a deep breath and announced tremulously, “Then for my unborn child.”
A collective gasp exploded from the gallery. Oglethorpe sat bolt upright. Richard’s eyes went wide.
Causton gaped. “Your… child?”
Alice’s heart hammered. She hadn’t planned to reveal it like this – indeed, she herself had only begun to suspect the missed cycles and morning nausea during the lonely days in gaol. But now, under dire threat, she seized on it as a lifeline. “Yes, sir. I am with child.” Her voice gained steadiness. “By law… by law, you cannot hang me while I carry an innocent babe.”
The legal scholars in the room nodded and murmured. English law did indeed forbid executing a pregnant woman – a plea of the belly.
General Oglethorpe looked to Causton, concern and surprise on his face. The magistrate rapped his gavel for silence. “Order! If what you say is true, girl, it must be verified.”
Within minutes, Alice was whisked away under guard to an adjoining chamber, where the matron of the Savannah orphan house – one of the few women of standing available – examined her. Alice emerged moments later, blushing but triumphant: the matron solemnly informed the court that Alice Riley was indeed quick with child.
The final decision was swift. “Alice Riley’s execution shall be stayed,” Causton declared, “until such time as she is delivered of child.”
The gallery erupted in a mix of applause (some out of relief at some mercy) and groans (perhaps disappointment at a delayed hanging). Alice sagged with a mixture of joy and terror. She had earned a reprieve – a few months of life at least.
But Causton’s next words were ice in her veins: “As for Richard White – the sentence shall be carried out without delay, to serve as an example.”
“Please, no!” Alice screamed before she could stop herself. Two guards restrained her as she reached toward Richard. “Not Richard! He – ”
Her beloved turned to her with a stricken expression. “Alice…,” he began. But Causton signaled, and the guards hauled Richard away from the dock.
Alice fought against the men holding her, sobbing uncontrollably. Richard did not struggle; he moved as if in a daze, eyes unfocused, lips murmuring a final prayer.
Their eyes met one last time across the courtroom. “I love you,” Alice mouthed, tears blurring her sight. Richard managed a faint, sad smile. “God keep you,” he replied softly.
Then he was taken from her sight. Alice collapsed to her knees, still sobbing as the spectators filed out in a cacophony of voices. None came to comfort the young woman on the floor. In their eyes, she was a murderess who had only temporarily cheated the gallows.
Above her, the great oak beams of the courthouse seemed to press down like the judgment of heaven itself. Alice pressed a hand to her abdomen, where new life stirred. It was a bitter irony – the child inside her had saved her, for now, but she could not save the child’s father.
All she could do was cry out a name over and over – “Richard! Richard!” – until her voice broke, and the guards dragged her back to the solitary darkness of her cell.