Early in the summer of 1864, the Committee were called upon to visit the stern retribution due to those who wantonly and maliciously attempt to assassinate a fellow-creature, upon James Brady, a resident of the Lower Town, more generally known as Nevada City. The case was clear, so far as the moral guilt of the accused was concerned, as will fully appear from the subjoined account of the transaction; but there are not a few who measure the extent of guilt by its consequences, and refuse to examine the act itself on its own merits. Now, we have always held that a man who fires at another, deliberately and with malice prepense, inflicting upon him a wound of any kind, is as much a murderer as if the shot had proved instantly fatal. The other judgment of the case depends upon the relative goodness or badness of ammunition, the efficiency of the weapon, and the expertness of the marksman. Hence, to hit the mark is murder; but to aim at it, and make rather a wide shot, is manslaughter only. If a ball glances on a man's ribs, it is manslaughter; if it goes between them, it is murder. This line of argument may satisfy some people; and that it does so, we know; at the same time it is not a doctrine that we can endorse, being fully convinced of its utter want of foundation, in right reason or common sense. Murphy, the victim of Brady's shot, was believed to be dying; the physicians declared he could not live many hours, and for this crime Brady was executed. Some kind-hearted but weak-headed individuals think that the murderer ought to have been spared, because Murphy had a strong constitution, and, contrary to all expectations, recovered; but what the state of a man's health has to do with the crime of the villain who shoots him, will to us forever remain an enigma as difficult as the unravelling of the Gordian knot. The proper course, in such eases, seems to be, not the untying of the knot aforesaid, but the casting on of another, in the shape of a road agent's necktie.
At about eleven p. m., the stillness of the summer's night that had closed in upon the citizens of Nevada was broken by two pistol shots fired in rapid succession. The executive officer of the Commitee heard the reports, as he was retiring to bed; but the sounds were too familiar to a mountaineer to attract any special attention, and he lay down at once to sleep. In a few minutes, however, he was startled from his quick coming slumber by the sudden entrance of a friend who told him to get up, for there was a man shot. Hastily dressing himself, he found that an individual named Jem Kelly was a prisoner on the charge of being, an accomplice in the deed. Who had fired the shots was not known, the man having run off with all speed, before he could be arrested. A guard of two Vigilantes was left in charge of Kelly, and the officer went quickly to Brady's saloon, where he first heard, from bystanders, that they thought Brady himself was the criminal, but that he had escaped. The wounded man confirmed this statement, and an examination of the premises showed a bullet-hole in the window through which the assassin had fired. The second shot had been fired from the door-step.
A detail of twelve men were ordered to search the town for Brady, while the captain and three others started for Virginia City, with the intention of capturing him if he could be found there, or on the road thither. On arriving at Central City, they ascertained from a citizen whom they met on the street, that a man dressed in black clothes, and otherwise answering the description of the fugitive, had passed through, and that he was apparently intoxicated. They went on to Virginia, and on arriving there, just about midnight, they found that the only house in which a light appeared was the Beaver Head saloon, at the corner of Idaho and Jackson streets, now John How & Co.'s store.
One of the party knew Brady personally, and on entering he at once recognized him in the act of drinking with another man at the bar. The captain stepped up and asked, "Is you name Brady?" "Yes," said he. "Then you are my prisoner," answered the captain. On his inquiring what was the charge against him, he was told that he was arrested for the murder of Murphy. The prisoner immediately started offon a loud harangue, but was stopped by the captain, who told him to keep quiet, and added, "You will have a fair trial in the morning."
Brady was taken down to Nevada by his captors, and confronted with his victim, who was lying in his own house. "Murphy," said the captain, "is this the man that shot you?" The wounded man fixed his gaze on the prisoner, and replied faintly, "It is." The guard then took Brady and marched him down town, to the house where Kelly was confined. The two men were given into the custody of a strong and well-armed party for the night. The death of Murphy was hourly expected by the attending surgeons, and all around him.
In the morning, Brady was taken before the Committee, who sat in the Adelphi Hall, where they had been convened for that purpose. About fifty members were present, and the charge against the prisoner was thoroughly investigated. The trial commenced about eleven a. m.
Meanwhile, Kelly had confessed that he had kept bar for Brady on that day, and that he knew that there was an old quarrel, and consequently ill feeling existed between Brady and Murphy. The commencement of this feud dated back as far as the preceding summer. This much of his testimony was correct and truthful, and was corroborated by other witnesses. He then went on to swear that the first thing he knew about the affray was the firing of a shot through the window, followed by the discharge of another into the door-step, and before he could see who it was that had done the deed, the man had run away.
Brady, at first, pretended that he had shot the wrong man by mistake; but he admitted at his trial that he had really aimed and fired the (supposed) fatal shot. He said that had he been sober he would not have committed the rash act, and he added, that after shooting, he went next door to his cabin, and sat there for about five minutes; that he then became uneasy, and started for Virginia, flinging his pistol away into the Gulch, on his road up. The pistol was found and produced at the trial.
The evidence produced was so entirely conclusive as to admit of no doubt. The offence was deliberate and cold-blooded murder, so far as the prisoner was concerned, and he believed the same till the moment of his execution. Sentence of death by hanging was pronounced.
With regard to Kelly the evidence adduced at the trial had led to some new developments concerning his share in the transaction. It was positively sworn that he had handed the pistol to Brady, across the bar; and that the understanding was that he was to take the assassin's place, inside the saloon, leaving him free to act on the outside; that, on receiving the pistol, Brady went out with it under his coat, and going into his cabin, he remained there for a few minutes, and then, walking to the window he fired, with deliberate aim, through the window, without previous words, or warning of his intention.
Kelly was sentenced to received fifty lashes on the bare back, which punishment he duly received, after the execution.
The prisoner (Brady) sent for W. Y. Pemberton, now practicing law at Helena, and requested him to settle his worldly affairs, in legal form. Accordingly, that gentleman drew his will, and the necessary deeds for the disposal of his property, after which he said that he must have a letter written to his daughter. He commenced to dictate it, but the language of the epistle reminded him so forcibly of his own wretched condition that he was unable to proceed, and covering his face with his hands, he ran to his bed, exclaiming, "Oh, my God! finish it yourself." The writer furnishes the following note of the letter.
"My Dear Daughter: You will never see me again. In an evil hour, being
under the control and influence of whiskey, I tried to take the life of
my fellow-man. I tried to shoot him through a window. He will in all
probability die -and that at my hands. I cannot say that I should not
suffer the penalty affixed to the violation of law, I have been
arrested, tried and sentenced to be hanged by the Vigilance Comimttee.
In one short hour I will have gone into eternity. It is an awful
thought, but it is my own fault. By the love I feel for you, in this my
dying hour, I
entreat you to be a good girl. Walk in the ways of the Lord.
Keep Heaven, God and the interest of your soul before your eyes.
I commend and commit you to the keeping of God. Pray for my
soul. Farewell, forever.
"Your father, JAMES BRADY."
At four o'clock p. m. he was marched from his place of confinement to the gallows, escorted by a guard of two hundred men, fully armed. At least five thousand persons were present at the execution. The gallows was about half a mile east of Nevada, and to save time and expense, a butcher's hoist was used for the purpose, a box and plank being rigged for a drop. When the rope had been adjusted, and the fatal preparations were all completed, he was asked if he wished to say anything to the people. He addressed the crowd, telling them that it was the first action of the kind that he had done; that he was intoxicated and insane; that he hoped his execution would be a warning to others, and that God would have mercy on his soul. The trap fell, and James Brady ceased to exist. After hanging for half an hour, the corpse was cut down and given to the friends of the deceased for burial.
Jem Kelly was present at the execution of his friend, and when all was over he was marched by the guard, down to an unfinished house in Nevada. Here a halt was called, and the necessary arrangements for the whipping were quickly made. Being asked to take off his shirt, he said, " the shirt, leave it on;" but on being told that it would be spoiled, he removed it. The culprit's hands were now tied together, and made fast to a beam over head; after which five men inflicted the punishment, each giving ten lashes with a raw-hide. Kelly showed no fortitude whatever, roaring and screaming at every lash of the hide. At the termination of the flogging he remarked, "Boys, if I hadn't been so fat, I should have died sure." Nevada was no home for this low-minded villain, who left with all speed; and resuming the career most congenial to a man as fond as he was of gold without labor, and horses without purchase, he came to the same end as his companion, Brady; but there was this difference between them -Kelly was a thief and murderer by trade; Brady was an honest man, and had never before ventured into the path of crime. Many felt sorry for his fate; but the old miners who heard of Kelly's execution shrugged their shoulders and muttered, "Served him right; he ought to have gone up long ago; I don't believe in whipping and banishing; if a fellow ain't fit to live here, he ain't fit to live nowhere by thunder -that's so, you bet your life." etc., etc., which terse and technical series of interjectional syllogisms contain more good practical common sense than many a half-bound folio, embodying the result of the labors of many a charter-granting plunder-seeking body, humorously styled a "Legislature," west of "the River."