An Oyster Planter's Inquest
As news of the chicken ring ebbed, the Rhodes story briefly resurfaced. On the day after Christmas, newspapers reported that Oyster Bay Town Coroner Valentine Baylis had concluded an inquest into the death. A few new facts of interest had been divulged:
- Although the wagon was damaged, little of the damage was caused by its rolling or sliding down the embankment.
- Traces of hair from the wagon horse's front legs had been found in the boards of the track cattle guard.
- In addition to a fractured skull, Rhodes had suffered a wound to his head, a gash so deep that it penetrated his brain. The injury had been caused by an axe or similar implement; no such item was found at the scene.
- After selling fish all day, Rhodes should have had twenty dollars or more on his person; almost no money was found.
- When last seen, he was wearing his distinctive overcoat, but no overcoat was found at the scene.
In short, there now were more reasons to think his death suspicious. Nonetheless, within a week of the incident, the inquest had been adjourned, without mention or hint of any criminal act. The peddler's demise was ruled an accident. How was this possible?
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In the 1870s, the towns of Oyster Bay and Hempstead each elected a Town Coroner as part of county elections. Candidates were selected for nomination primarily because they were well-known and respected - in other words, because voters would recognize their names. Baylis had first been nominated because he was a well-regarded oyster planter, someone proficient at transplanting "seed" oysters to local beds (a skill vital to the Town's economy). As part of the winning party's ticket, he was swept into office. The party and its coroner were still in office in 1878.
Despite lacking preparation and training to be a Town Coroner, a man might still have strengths. For example, Baylis was shrewd. He was admired by some for his clever and dogged questioning of uncooperative witnesses, such as the time he tripped up some criminals who had attempted to misidentify remains found floating in the waters of Oyster Bay. On the other hand, the press found it appropriate to recount how Baylis once had authorized the burial of a body before an autopsy had been performed.
Cases like the chicken thefts, or the death of William Rhodes, presented challenges. The Town's investigative resources were limited, both in terms of quantity and quality (e.g., forensic analytical ability). Coroner Baylis could not create witnesses or evidence out of thin air. Nor could he create informants, who seemed to form the backbone of most criminal investigations in the county. It appeared that the police never got anywhere unless someone squealed. Had Mrs. Thompson kept quiet, they still would be ignorant of how 100,000 hens had disappeared without a single cluck, and of whose pockets had been filled in consequence.
Now, the coroner's mind was on Hicksville, which was about as far from salt water as an oyster man could get in the Town of Oyster Bay, and Valentine Baylis was well out of his depth. He could do nothing to promote justice in this case.
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In his defense, the citizens who were empaneled for the Coroner's Jury were worse than no help at all. Much later, it would be revealed that all the jurors but one had closed their minds at the outset of the process, for they "knew" what had happened:
Rhodes must have spent all the money from his fish sales on whiskey at the Jericho Hotel, getting hopelessly drunk. He was there, wasn't he? Then he accidentally turned onto the railroad tracks from the crossing, and he drove along until he fell from the embankment and died. Case closed.
Never mind that the horse could not walk across the cattle guard. Never mind the axe gash to the dead man's head. Never mind the overcoat that wasn't there, or the horse that wasn't injured from a fall. Those were just details for someone more clever than they were to explain. Besides, the jurors had to be rid of all this nonsense, so that they could go home and prepare for Christmas.
At first, the lone dissenting juror had tried. On his own, he visited the scene where everything was discovered, trying to grasp what had happened that night. He came back to the jury and argued with the others, but arguing with them proved futile, and ultimately he gave up. I surmise that Coroner Baylis gave up as well. At the inquiry, testimony pointed out all the discrepancies, but the jury did not listen. It was not going to reach a verdict other than accidental death. Even if it did... well, what kind of investigation could the Town muster? It wasn't as if some perpetrator's wife was going to shout out the truth in the street this time around.
The inquest was concluded; there was nothing else to be done. Outraged, one newspaper reacted bluntly:
Rockville Center South Side Observer, February 13, 1880
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