by Philip Jett
“Two men were on that bridge at approximately 8:00 a.m. One is dead. He can’t tell us what happened. We know because we found his car and cap there and a large pool of blood. His lips are sealed in death. Bone by bone and tattered item by tattered item, we have reconstructed the identity of the deceased man. Dr. Kelly testified from his dental examination that the skull was positively that of Adolph Coors III.
“And there was … ah, excuse me for a moment, Your Honor, if I may confer with cocounsel.” With a nod from the judge, Hite walked to the prosecution table and leaned over Hardesty and spoke. Hite returned to the podium with a notepad.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you saw the jacket that Adolph Coors III was wearing on that morning. Mrs. Coors told you it was her husband’s. You saw the two holes in the back of the jacket. You saw the shirt he had on and the undershirt. You saw where those two holes were in juxtaposition when you put the three items of clothing together. And you have the medical testimony that a bone found on a desolate hill, a scapula bone, had two holes in it.
“You also heard Dr. Toll testify that Mr. Coors had been fatally wounded in the back, the most cowardly of all murders. FBI agents testified he’d been shot with a firearm bearing a caliber less than .45, perhaps a .32 or a .38 caliber. You also heard testimony that in addition to the K-32, the defendant owned two .38-caliber pistols and a 9 mm pistol (that’s roughly a .35 caliber) and that the 9 mm, a powerful and deadly weapon under a .45 caliber, was confiscated when he was so heroically captured in Canada.”
While Hite spoke, the defense attorneys took notes and conferred with each other. Rarely did they speak to Corbett. The jurors listened attentively to Hite, scarcely removing their eyes from the assistant prosecutor.
“We also found another hat on Turkey Creek Bridge. Who was the other man at the bridge under that hat? For that, we have to review the immutable circumstantial facts.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s thirty-seven miles from the bridge to the Shamballah Ashrama dump. That would take about an hour and fifteen minutes to drive. How long would it take to remove a corpse from the back seat and cast it into the mountain mausoleum, the guardians of which are nature’s man-eating beasts? Another ten minutes? Fifteen? And how long would it take to drive into the heart of the city of Denver to drop off dry-cleaning? An hour? An hour and fifteen minutes? You can see that the man under the hat could be in Denver by 11:30 or noon at the latest.
“Then we see a very interesting thing. Denver’s postal inspector, Joe Murphy, testified that a ransom note bearing a 3:00 p.m. postmark was mailed between 1:45 and 2:15 p.m. that same day. There were no news releases of Mr. Coors’s disappearance until after five o’clock. Who knew what happened on the bridge? The man under the hat.”
Hite approached the evidence table and asked for Exhibit A-5. It was the ransom note. He read it to the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the moment this note was mailed, its writer knew that Adolph Coors III was dead, yet the note informs Mrs. Coors that Adolph’s life is in her hands. ‘We have no desire to commit murder. All we want is that money.’ The lust and cupidity of the note’s writer.”
Hite paused and returned to the podium. He flipped his notes.
“The next morning, the man known as Walter Osborne hurriedly loaded his car with boxes. The man whose car was always immaculate was splattered with mud, neighbors testified, even the windows were splattered, they said, just as if driven along the back roads of Jefferson County and Douglas County in the winter months.”
Corbett sat stoically, listening with a strained expression at times as if he were the defense counsel and Erickson and Mackay were the defendants.
“Remember, ladies and gentlemen, that fourth car, the yellow one with the license plate number beginning with AT-62 that James Cable’s eagle eyes spotted? Do you know where it was? Parked at an apartment in Denver? No. Burned in faraway Atlantic City, New Jersey, an act of arson so intense that it couldn’t be put out by ordinary means. It took a high-powered fog to douse those flames of concealment. And whom did it belong to? The man called Walter Osborne.
“And how many times did we hear from witnesses that the man calling himself Walter Osborne told them he was going back to school, maybe to the University of Colorado at Boulder? Well, I’ll agree he was going back to school, but not to Boulder. Instead, he enrolled in the University of Flatrock because he was trying to crawl under it.”
A few laughs burbled about the courtroom.
“Objection,” barked Erickson.
“The objection is good,” ruled the judge.
“He had something to conceal. Otherwise, why did he flee? I hear news bulletins every day, and I don’t hightail it out of town. Why did he want to burn the inside of his car? Could there have been something on the cushions? A spot perhaps like the one found at Turkey Creek Bridge? Circumstantial evidence, ladies and gentlemen, does not lie.
“And where is the man known as Walter Osborne? Living in Canada, where he buys a new brown felt hat, size 7⅜. Why did he buy that new hat in Canada as winter approached, size 7⅜? Because he’d lost his old one in a creek back in Colorado.
“So who is the man under the hat?” Hite asked and then paused, before turning and pointing at Corbett with an extended index finger. “I submit the defendant supplied the answer on October 29, 1960, in Vancouver, British Columbia, when he stated to FBI Agent Alfred Gunn while being arrested, ‘I’m your man.’ Walter Osborne is the man under the hat, ladies and gentlemen, and Walter Osborne is Joe Corbett Jr., the defendant.”
Hite sipped some water and gently rubbed his hands across the sides of his head, brushing his hair back neatly.
“All the evidence points to the defendant. It builds a collar of circumstantial evidence that fits around his neck, this man who wears a size 7⅜ brown felt hat. The one who said, ‘I’m your man.’”
Hite paused a few seconds before closing. He lifted a piece of paper from the podium and walked over to the jury.
“The official charge against the defendant reads in part that Joseph Corbett Jr., alias Walter Osborne, did on or about the ninth of February 1960, feloniously, willfully, and of his premeditated malice aforethought kill and murder one Adolph Coors III against the peace and dignity of the People of the State of Colorado.
“We submit, ladies and gentlemen, the language of the charge couldn’t be any truer, for I ask you, what dignity attended the burial of Adolph Coors III when his body was cast to the wolves and to the bears and to the other predators of the forest? What dignity attended the long vigil suffered by Mrs. Coors waiting by the telephone, hoping for word of her husband’s release? What a cruel instrument of torture. He never called. And she waited. Dutifully. Tearfully, as it snowed, just like it’s snowing today. Little did Mary Coors know that the same snow that gave her hope was the burial blanket of her beloved husband lying up there on that mountainside,” Hite said, his voice crescendoing as he pointed toward Pikes Peak while keeping his eyes on the jurors.
“The defense would like you to believe there is little evidence or that the evidence doesn’t add up. I tell you that the People’s case is unrebutted, uncontradicted, and undenied. There is a mountain of circumstantial evidence as high as that mountain the multinamed defendant dumped Adolph Coors’s body on. And I will tell you what that evidence indubitably adds up to, one five-letter word, G-U-I-L-T. Guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
“Ladies and gentlemen, search the evidence for the truth. If you will analyze it, you will find the truth, the truth of the charge, the truth that this man deliberately and premeditatedly murdered Adolph Coors III, and I hope that will be your verdict. Thank you.”
Richard Hite had spoken for thirty minutes. Now it was the defense’s turn. Defense attorney Malcolm Mackay waited for Hite to return to the prosecution table before standing and approaching the jury box.
“Defense counsel may proceed,” announced Judge Stoner.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, first on behalf of Jos
eph Corbett Jr., we want to thank you for sitting as a jury in this case. You have listened attentively. Your verdict, no matter what it may be, you can be proud of. You can look anybody in the eye who should comment adversely upon your verdict and ask them if they heard the evidence.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, the thing that brings us together is the tragedy that happened in this community, and nobody more than myself has sympathy for the Coors family. But that is not the contest here.
“The prosecution has alleged that Joseph Corbett Jr. murdered Adolph Coors III. I submit they have not proven their case beyond a reasonable doubt,” Mackay said in a firm but convivial voice as he faced the jury. “It’s that simple.… They tried their best, there’s no doubt, what with the unlimited resources of the district attorney’s office and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and believe me, they used every one of those resources, but still haven’t proved the defendant’s guilt.
“Let’s consider for a moment all the questions that have not been answered. Questions that if answered would clearly prove Joe Corbett Jr. did not commit this crime and because they aren’t answered create reasonable doubt. But before we do that, I would like to take a moment to comment upon the credibility of some of the prosecution’s witnesses.” Mackay proceeded to point out the testimony of witnesses like James Cable, Al Gunn, Virginia Massey, and others who sounded confused or changed their stories or were hostile to defense questions. He then shook his head with a grimace. “You have got to analyze this evidence, ladies and gentlemen, and scrutinize it for the truth. Now let’s look at the holes in the prosecution’s case,” Mackay said as he flipped the page of his legal notepad and stuffed a hand in his pants pocket.
“Let me ask you, why would a person who is going to kidnap one man need four pair of handcuffs and leg irons? It doesn’t make sense.… They rely on circumstantial evidence. Well, they are bound by that circumstantial evidence.
“Much has been made about the defendant’s car being seen in the area surrounding Turkey Canyon. Ask yourself this: How many other makes and colors of cars were seen by witnesses in the area in addition to Joe Corbett’s yellow Mercury? It’s hard to keep count, isn’t it? One witness saw a yellow Ford pickup, another a green Ford sedan, there was a green Dodge, a maroon Dodge, a green-and-blue Ford, a gray-and-white Ford, and a Ford station wagon. One car resembling the defendant’s was even seen in that area’s lovers’ lane. James Cable read a partial license plate number. Maybe he saw it correctly, and maybe he didn’t. It doesn’t matter, because the defendant doesn’t dispute the fact he drove about the countryside just like all these other folks in their cars, to target shoot, camp, or simply to get out of the big city and get some fresh air. But Mr. Cable took down license numbers of the other cars, too, and handed them over to the FBI. But where’s the testimony about those cars?
“And how many were in the cars? No one knows. Some said one, some two, even a few said it could have been more than two.”
Mackay flipped through some notes, took a sip of water from a glass on the defense table, and continued to speak.
“Much has been made about an Underwood typewriter and a Royalite typewriter and this kind of paper and that, but there was absolutely no testimony, zero, that a typewriter owned by Joe Corbett, like hundreds of others owned in this country, just not in Denver, typed the ransom note demanding $500,000. And there was absolutely no testimony that the paper on which the ransom note was typed was identical to paper taken from the defendant’s apartment. But there was testimony during our cross-examination of the FBI that comparisons of correspondence and income tax returns obtained from the defendant’s apartment with the ransom note showed no similarities in the style of typing or paper. Now that is absolute.”
Erickson motioned for Mackay to join him at the defense table. “Excuse me a moment, Your Honor.” Mackay leaned across the front of the table as Erickson whispered. Mackay nodded and turned to face the jury as he tucked his tie back neatly behind his vest.
“Much has been made of the rifle and pistol belonging to Mr. Corbett and the dirt under his car,” Mackay said, bending down and making a motion with his hand as if sticking dirt under the car. “They say this dirt was from this mountain, and this dirt was from that road and from this dump.” Mackay paused. “Lord knows I’ve driven a lot of places, and so has Joe Corbett. Several of the prosecution’s own witnesses attested that he’s an avid target shooter and hunter. Sure, he drove along the back roads and mountains with his pistol and rifle. Last I checked, a man can’t target practice on Main Street.”
Chuckles scattered about the gallery.
“FBI agents testified they collected 457 soil samples. You can be sure they got plenty from Turkey Creek Bridge and the Shamballah Ashrama dump. But out of those 457 samples from fourteen counties in the area, only two were introduced as evidence against the defendant, and neither of those conclusively matched the soil at the bridge or the dump. I think the odds are good you could find two out of those 457 under any of our cars.”
Erickson tapped the top of his head. Mackey nodded.
“And what about the hat? The star piece of evidence that the prosecution has picked up, passed around, shown pictures of, and shoved down to Mr. Corbett’s eyebrows? What a ridiculous display of theatrics of no substantive value. It didn’t even fit. Do you know how many folks in the area wear brown hats? In the country? In the world? I bet I’ve got a couple in my closet at home. And I bet you gentlemen do, too. Dave Reigel, who worked with Joe Corbett Jr., testified he believed the defendant’s hat band was darker than the prosecution’s hat. Arthur Brynaert, another coworker, testified that the defendant’s hat was light tan and didn’t match the color of the prosecution’s hat. And where is the testimony that Joseph Corbett Jr. bought this hat? The label was in the hat, May-D&F, but there was no such testimony.
“But as egregious as that is, it’s not the most disturbing piece of evidence, or should I say, lack of evidence. That would be the mysterious fingerprint discovered in Mr. Coors’s Travelall. No matter how hard the FBI tried, with all their millions of fingerprints on file in Washington, and all their agents and all those man-hours, they couldn’t find a match. It certainly didn’t match Joe Corbett Jr. It didn’t match any Coors family member, friend, or coworker. Believe me, the FBI checked. So to whom did it belong? I say to the real killer, the one whose brown hat was found at Turkey Creek, not to Joe Corbett Jr.… Reasonable doubt, ladies and gentlemen, reasonable doubt.
“And what about the so-called eyewitnesses? They were really ‘ear-witnesses,’ and none heard or saw Joe Corbett Jr. anywhere near the area at all that entire day, much less shoot Mr. Coors and dump his body. The prosecution hasn’t produced a murder weapon, a typewriter that wrote the ransom note, paper that matched the notepaper, nor any fingerprints on Mr. Coors’s vehicle, or anything else that belongs to Joe Corbett Jr., except on a paint bucket in the basement of his apartment. The prosecution said plenty about that bucket, and the FBI was so interested that agents took eighteen photographs of that solitary fingerprint, but did you hear them talk about the fingerprint in the Travelall? Absolutely not, only a paint bucket at the defendant’s apartment. So what does that make the defendant? Guilty of painting? He worked at Benjamin Moore & Co., for god’s sake. The true assailant has his fingerprint on that Travelall. More reasonable doubt.
“Ladies and gentlemen, in conclusion, let me ask that the good Lord grant you wisdom to analyze the evidence and the law in this case in the spirit of fairness, and give you wisdom to apply the laws to the facts in the spirit of justice.”
Malcolm Mackay slapped his hand against the side of the lectern and walked to the defense table. As he approached, defense cocounsel Bill Erickson stood. He would be delivering the final words of the defense’s closing argument.
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” began Erickson, who spent his time, as he had during the trial, focusing on legal procedures and technicalities while dissecting the judge’s jury instructio
ns and complaining about the newspapers, TV, and radio. An impassioned Erickson gazed at Corbett and reached out an open hand as he invoked vague expressions like, “We all know that a mathematical equation has to fall and cannot be solved if the unknowns go beyond the limits of the equation,” and quoting an “ancient proverb” that “a thousand probabilities do not make one truth,” and even quoting from Oscar Wilde’s poem, “The Ballad of Reading Gaol.”
“We have conjecture, surmise, passion, prejudice, and every other whim of the human mind brought into this case to try to sway you in your duty of determining what this man will do for the rest of his natural life. But, ladies and gentlemen, as a wise scholar of the law once said, ‘A defendant cannot be convicted on conjecture, however shrewd; on suspicion, however justified; on probabilities, however strong; but only on evidence which establishes guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.’ Erickson then approached the lectern to face the jury a final time.
“The loss suffered by the Coorses is great. Anything that you do or I do or that anyone does in this court today … will not replace Adolph Coors. But that is no excuse to punish an innocent man.… You are determining what this man will do for the rest of his natural life.… Possibilities do not make the law.… The district attorney must establish his case by proof beyond a reasonable doubt.
“Thank you very much.”
After a brief rebuttal by Richard Hite in which he poked fun at Erickson’s flamboyant use of the extraneous, he closed with, “The defense has indicated that you should consider each piece of evidence individually, one by one. That is wrong. The court has instructed you to consider all the evidence in context as one relates to the other in determining the defendant’s guilt. And when you have gone down the evidentiary path and have found the truth, this evidence will lead you to concur with what this defendant said in Vancouver: ‘I’m your man.’
“Ladies and gentlemen, the case is yours.”
