"That is all," smiled Cranshaw.
Jones called the defendant to the stand. "Mr. Foster, did you or did
you not make a duplicate of yourself?"
"Objection. The question is an obvious attempt to incriminate the
witness!"
"Sustained!"
"I merely wish to establish the identity of the witness."
"Then do it without asking him leading questions."
Jones faced Cranshaw angrily. "How can I?" he stormed angrily. "His
name, his measurements, his fingerprints, his ... everything is
identical to that of the slain."
"Inconveniently coincidental," smiled Cranshaw.
"Mr. Foster," said Jones quietly, "upon the night of May 18th, was
there a duplicate human being made?"
Foster nodded in a superior fashion.
"And are you the duplicate or the--"
"Objection!"
"Sustained!"
"That is all, Mr. Foster," replied Jones angrily. He turned to the jury
and smiled. "My points are simple but clear," he said. "Circumstantial
evidence it may be, but a more profound interlock of such evidence is
seldom found. One: There was a duplicate made. Two, a man was killed
by a weapon belonging to Harry Foster, in Harry Foster's apartment,
and all evidence fails to show the occupancy of any other human being.
Three, the defendant admits that there was duplication made but makes
attempt to confuse the Court by denying to answer whether he is
original or duplicate! This is an admission that he was the duplicate
made--or that he was the original. No denial is made of this. Since
it is impossible by any ordinary means to distinguish one Harry
Foster--defendant--from the other Harry Foster--victim--a sentence of
death is indicated for Harry Foster, the defendant, since the killing
conveniently made the only distinction."
Cranshaw arose with a stretch and a smile. "First," he said sincerely,
"I want to clear my client of other charges against him. Your Honor,
and Counsel for the Prosecution, will you admit as evidence the
statements made by relatives, and other competent authorities to the
effect that the dead man was the Harry Foster who was wanted for crimes
of various nature?"
"I object!" exploded Jones. "If any duplication was made, then the
duplicate is equally guilty!"
"All right," said Cranshaw. "Let it pass." He faced the jury with a
persecuted air. "Anything to make life difficult," he laughed.
"Now," he said, "may I enter as evidence the suit that the slain man
was wearing? It is--or was--identical to that which my client is
wearing now. At the present time," he said with a smile, "the client's
suit is a little more worn, though in better condition due to the holes
in this one. Now, for my first witness I call Dr. Lewis."
* * * * *
"Dr. Lewis, have you ever considered the being of a duplicate?"
"Not until recently," smiled the doctor.
"You are a competent psychiatrist. Can you tell us the
responsibility-quotient of a man kept in a state of suspended
animation until he was thirty-three years old?"
"He would have little or no sense of responsibility at all."
"Would you say then that a duplicate of any human being was responsible
for the acts of the original?"
"I would hate to ponder the question," replied the psychiatrist. "It
would depend entirely upon the degree of duplication. Yet it seems to
run against the grain to make a duplicate responsible for the acts of
the original when up to this time the duplicate had no true identity."
"You assume the duplicate would have an identity?"
"If the duplicate is capable of original thought, he has."
"Yet, Dr. Lewis, what comprises identity?"
"The ego is a rather deep subject," replied the doctor thoughtfully.
"The question 'What is this that am I?' is one pondered for many
thousands of years. It is still without answer--though it is generally
accepted that a man is what he is because of his lifetime of
experiences."
"Will you expand upon that, doctor?"
The doctor nodded. "A new-born babe has little true identity or
individuality. That is because his only experience is almost congruent
with all other new-born babes. As he lives, his experiences will differ
because of environment and heredity from others--in the case of twins
this is true despite the idea that the environment and heredity is
identical. It is not. The environment of Twin A includes the life of
Twin B, and vice versa. Therefore each twin must evolve a different
identity. As a man grows and enjoys experience, each factor changes his
personality in some way major or minor, and he emerges a true identity,
which, however, is different in some minor way from day to day as his
experiences accumulate."
"Then at the instant of duplication, the two persons have approximately
the same identity?"
"Yes save for the single fact that one has just been in the process
of formation whilst the other was in the process of being recorded. I
assume that the two processes are not identical."
"Then," said Cranshaw, facing the jury, "may I point out that no
identity was really removed from the face of this earth by this
so-called killing. But one birth certificate was issued for Harry
Foster. But one Harry Foster lived and grew and became the Harry Foster
that many people knew as a motion picture star. A duplicate Harry
Foster was made, and then eliminated. Harry Foster was killed--and yet
Harry Foster remains! If the law states a life for a life, we have it
in the person of the living Harry Foster! He--killed himself."
Cranshaw smiled indulgently. "There are laws concerning suicide," he
said. "These laws make suicide a felony. Because of this there have
been many jokes made about the penalty for suicide, but there is
good reason for such laws. You see, Gentlemen of the Jury, it is not
necessary to wait until the burglar emerges from the bank with his
coat pockets bulging to arrest him. You may apprehend him while he is
drilling his way into the bank for the crime of Attempting To Compound
A Felony. An attempt at suicide is, then, an attempt to compound
a felony and the would-be suicide may be apprehended for his own
protection. Since the penalties for attempted suicide usually consist
of compelling the miscreant to undergo psychiatric treatment to remove
the obvious mental unrest that gave him the will to self-destruction,
I suggest that my client be given the same treatment for the crime of
suicide."
He sat down. "Now," he said with a smile, "that should hang that jury
higher than a kite. What is the penalty for successful suicide? Not
execution--"
"Shut up," snapped Foster.
* * * * *
The jury returned after many hours, and the foreman arose. "Your Honor,
we have deliberated this case and find that our decision requires
explanation. Suicide we reason, is self-murder. Since suicide requires
a certain amount of planning and contemplation, we find the defendant
guilty on all charges including Murder in the First Degree!"
The roar of the spectators covered up the judge's words, but Harry
Foster heard him pronounce the fatal words.
Tim Woodart turned the key in Jenny Foster's apartment, shoved the door
open and stood aside to let her enter. Once in the dim living room, she
turned and buried her head in Tim's shoulder.
He held her close and stroked her head with one hand. Over her head
he saw the clock on the wall, it registered midnight. "Easy," he said
softly. "It's all--over."
She nodded, too filled with emotion and relief to speak.
Then as the sweep-hand crept past the instant of midnight, a sardonic
voice came from the easy-chair.
"A very pretty scene."
Jenny whirled, her face white. "Harry!" she said with a quavering voice.
As Tim faced Foster he asked Jenny to call Lieutenant Miller.
Foster laughed again. "Call him," he jeered. "And remember that the Law
of the Land makes it impossible for me to be placed in double jeopardy!"
"What's been done before can be done again," said Tim.
"Uh-huh," laughed Foster. "But not punishment. The Law, yer know.
"You see," jeered Foster, "knowing that I am going on and on and on, I
merely had Cranshaw make another duplicate of me. Now no one can touch
me!"
Jenny turned from the telephone and Tim put an arm about her and led
her from the apartment. He left the door open--
"There he is," said Tim, outside. "And you know what he has in mind."
Harry Foster nodded, took out his revolver, and charged in. The quiet
apartment was filled with the sudden racket of gunfire, quickly there;
quickly stopped.
"Let Miller clean up," said Tim harshly.
"But--?"
"They're equally fast and they're equally forewarned. Tough guy--it
took four of him to get rid of him."