It was a shock to me. Although my presence had been requested, I had not been subpoenaed. I walked through the gate and was sworn in.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” Schyler said with a grin. “I have just a few questions. You are the investigating officer in the death of Verna Hicks Wilensky, are you not?”
“That’s correct.”
“How long have you been investigating Mrs. Wilensky’s homicide?”
Templeton interrupted. “Mr. Schyler, I think I made it clear that the details of Mrs. Wilensky’s death were immaterial to this procedure.”
“Yes, you did, sir, and I assure you this line of questioning is apropos to the matter at hand.”
“Alright,” Templeton said. “But I caution you, proceed with care.”
“Of course.”
He repeated the question.
“Ten days,” I said.
“Now, Sergeant, in the course of your investigation, did it become necessary to check into Mrs. Wilensky’s background. By that, I mean to determine such things as date and place of birth, et cetera?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And please tell this tribunal what you learned about her personal history.”
“We couldn’t establish anything prior to 1924.”
“No date of birth?”
“No, sir.”
“Place of birth?”
“No, sir.”
“Where she worked previously?”
“Sir, as far as we can determine, Mrs. Wilensky had no personal history prior to moving to L.A. in 1924.”
“In short,” Schyler said, “Mrs. Wilensky did not exist prior to 1924.”
“That is correct.”
“Is that a normal situation, Sergeant?”
“No.”
“And what conclusions, if any, did you draw from that?”
“That she changed her name prior to moving here.”
“And have you drawn any conclusions from these facts.”
“Not yet,” I said.
“So yours is a continuing investigation?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Oh yes, one other question. When did Mrs. Wilensky die?”
“May 25, about 7:30 p.m.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” He turned to the tribunal.
“Any questions, gentlemen?” Schyler asked the tribunal.
Schyler had played it smart. Now it was up to the tribunal to ask the key question. The three men huddled together for a moment, then Templeton asked me, “Just for the record, Sergeant, what were the circumstances surrounding Mrs. Wilensky’s death?”
“She was murdered, sir, and it was made to appear as an accident.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. You are excused.”
I returned to my seat in the first pew.
“I call Harvey Craddock,” Schyler said.
The big guard was a little befuddled at first. He held the hat over his gun and sneaked it back into its holster, then left his hat, and went to be sworn in.
“Mr. Craddock, where are you employed?”
“Wesco State Prison. I am captain of the guard.”
“So you know my client, Mr. Riker.”
“Oh yes, for the last six years.”
“Has Mr. Riker ever discussed the Wilma Thompson murder case with you, Captain?”
“Only every other day or so.”
“And what did he say?”
“He’d just go over the whole night, picking out things he said proved he was set up.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Nobody believed him.”
“Would you consider him a dangerous prisoner?”
“Well, he’s what we call a firecracker. Got a short fuse. Light ’em and they blow up in your face.”
“And how many times did he blow up, Captain?”
Craddock paused for a few seconds before he answered.
“None.”
“Ever create a scene, argue with other prisoners?”
“No, sir.”
“In fact, he was the librarian, correct?”
“That is correct. Read four newspapers a day and could quote some of the stories almost word for word. Has an amazing memory.”
“Even taught some of the other inmates to read and write, did he not?”
“Yes, sir, about six of them as I recall.”
Templeton cut in.
“Mr. Schyler, is this testimony pertinent to anything?”
“Well, sir, my client here has been accused of a vicious crime. I think it is pertinent that he never gave any of the wardens in the prisons where he served time-San Quentin, Folsom, and Wesco-any problem. In fact, he was a model prisoner, helped other cons, was an avid reader.”
“You made your point, counselor.”
“Yes, sir,” Schyler said. He dismissed Craddock, went to his table, took a swig of water, and dabbed his lips with his handkerchief. Then he turned to the tribunal and said:
“Gentlemen, it is the opinion of Wilma Thompson’s dentist and the coroner of this county that the woman known as Verna Hicks Wilensky was, in reality, Wilma Thompson. Think about that, gentlemen. You have heard from the investigating officer in the case of Mrs. Wilensky’s murder that she appeared here in L.A. in 1924, more than a year after my client’s conviction for murdering Wilma Thompson, and that he and his investigators cannot establish any trace of her prior to 1924. She had to come from somewhere, gentlemen. I would suggest that Wilma Thompson was not murdered in 1922, a non-crime for which my client, Arnold Riker, has served nineteen years’ hard time in state prisons. I would also suggest, gentlemen, that the probability of Miss Thompson and Mrs. Wilensky not being the same person is infinitesimal. Think about it: two women of the same size with the same bridgework, the same scars, the same surgery to the nose; and, finally, the opinion of two expert witnesses that the two women are the same person. And possibly the most profound evidence of all-Miss Thompson’s body never was recovered.
“Mr. Riker does not fit the usual profile of a cold-blooded killer. In nineteen years, he never created a disturbance. He taught fellow prisoners to read and write. Ran the library. His character, therefore, is not in contention. I therefore argue that Mr. Riker is absolutely and undeniably not guilty of murder, manslaughter, or anything else, and thus should be released immediately from incarceration. We appeal to you to determine that Mr. Riker may walk out of this courtroom today a free man. Thank you.”
The tribunal excused itself and went into an anteroom.
“What happens now?” I asked Cannon.
“They’ll make their decision, call the governor, and make a recommendation. If the gov agrees, they’ll come back in and announce that decision. If he doesn’t agree, then Riker will have to sue the state and go through a retrial.”
I went outside for a smoke. The first person I saw was the last person I wanted to see. Jim Pennington. He
