Post by Anja on Jun 23, 2006 18:11:05 GMT -5
Times Past----The State of Arizonas First Legal Execution
Although a photo makes him look like he could have served kids ice cream
back in the 1920s, Paul V. Hadley was anything but a model citizen.The
nattily dressed man was known to Tucson law enforcement officials as Dr.
William E. Estaver. A literate man, Estaver was well-spoken, friendly and
persuasive, and claimed to be a dentist from Detroit. During his brief
stay in Tucson, he would be remembered for telling fanciful tales, making
a nuisance of himself, and ultimately, cold-blooded murder.
He breezed into town in mid-November 1921, and registered at the Willard
Hotel. There he told a tale about an automobile broken down on the road to
Sentinel and a frantic wife waiting for him there. He pestered tourists
bound in that direction for a ride. Peter Johnson, an exceedingly large
elderly man, and his portly wife Anna, were taken in by the dapper
raconteur.
Early the next morning, the improbable trio loaded itself into the
Johnsons' Dodge touring car and set out across a vast stretch of desert
notable for its emptiness and isolation. They followed a roadway that was,
at best, primitive and, at worst, little more than a rutted dirt trail.
About 9:30 that night, some 60 miles west of Ajo, Estaver removed a
.32-caliber handgun from his jacket pocket and fired 2 shots into Mr.
Johnson's neck. When Anna turned to see what was happening, she was met by
a volley of bullets. Her dead body slumped onto her wounded husbands lap.
Struggling in agony, Johnson reached around in an effort to grab hold of
Estaver, but the assailant jumped from the automobile. Johnson put his
foot to the throttle, but not quickly enough. As the massive vehicle
pulled away, its driver was shot again, twice.
Remarkably, with 4 bullets in his body and losing copious amounts of
blood, Johnson drove all night across the desert to the little town of
Stoval. There, a Yuma-bound passenger train was flagged down and, as fate
would have it, a Southern Pacific railroad detective was aboard.
Arrangements were made to care for Johnson, and the train went on its way.
After traveling 2 1/2 miles, the keen-eyed detective spotted Estaver
walking along the tracks. Minutes later, the wanton killer was arrested
and was on his way to jail at Yuma.
Incensed by the brutal murder of a hapless woman and the near-fatal
shooting of her husband, talk of lynching began. What started as a muted
whisper among citizens of Yuma soon exploded into a deafening cry. When a
mob began to form around the jail, the sheriff knew he had to get the
prisoner out of Yuma County fast.
In the dead of night, Estaver was whisked by automobile to Dome where the
heavily shackled prisoner was put aboard a midnight train to Tucson. There
he was incarcerated in the county jail to await trail, the killing having
occurred in Pima County.
In a courtroom packed with spectators, what would be the lengthiest trial
12 days in recent times, got underway. Estaver glibly told the court that
Mexicans or Indians had attacked the Johnsons; he had nothing to do with
the shootings. He was persuasive and the trial ended with a hung jury.
A 2nd trial was scheduled, but not before headlines exploded in the
Arizona Daily Star: "Estaver Rushed to Florence to Prevent Mob Violence."
"Killed Texas Sheriff" and "Escaped from Oklahoma Penitentiary."
And, in fact, Estaver was not Estaver at all, and certainly was not a
dentist. This prim little man was a hardened criminal from Beaumont,
Texas, by the name of Paul V. Hadley. He had escaped from the penitentiary
at McAlester, Oklahoma, where he was serving a life term for the
cold-blooded murder of a Texas lawman.
On May 19, 1922, Hadley's 2nd trail commenced. This time he was not so
lucky. Deliberating just 15 minutes, the jury returned a guilty verdict
and recommended the death penalty. 5 days later, the judge sentenced the
convicted murderer to "hang by the neck until dead."
On April 12, the night before his execution, Hadley borrowed a typewriter
from a Star reporter and tapped out a statement of some 500 words
proclaiming his innocence and, not surprisingly, lambasting capital
punishment. "I believe in God," he wrote, "and I will not go to His
presence with a lie on my lips. I am not guilty."
He was, however, as guilty as could be. On Friday the 13th, chronicled the
Star, "Paul Hadley briskly, yet without show of over-confidence, walked
directly to the death trap." Moments later, Hadleys body dangled at rope's
end.
(source: Arizona Capitol Times)
Although a photo makes him look like he could have served kids ice cream
back in the 1920s, Paul V. Hadley was anything but a model citizen.The
nattily dressed man was known to Tucson law enforcement officials as Dr.
William E. Estaver. A literate man, Estaver was well-spoken, friendly and
persuasive, and claimed to be a dentist from Detroit. During his brief
stay in Tucson, he would be remembered for telling fanciful tales, making
a nuisance of himself, and ultimately, cold-blooded murder.
He breezed into town in mid-November 1921, and registered at the Willard
Hotel. There he told a tale about an automobile broken down on the road to
Sentinel and a frantic wife waiting for him there. He pestered tourists
bound in that direction for a ride. Peter Johnson, an exceedingly large
elderly man, and his portly wife Anna, were taken in by the dapper
raconteur.
Early the next morning, the improbable trio loaded itself into the
Johnsons' Dodge touring car and set out across a vast stretch of desert
notable for its emptiness and isolation. They followed a roadway that was,
at best, primitive and, at worst, little more than a rutted dirt trail.
About 9:30 that night, some 60 miles west of Ajo, Estaver removed a
.32-caliber handgun from his jacket pocket and fired 2 shots into Mr.
Johnson's neck. When Anna turned to see what was happening, she was met by
a volley of bullets. Her dead body slumped onto her wounded husbands lap.
Struggling in agony, Johnson reached around in an effort to grab hold of
Estaver, but the assailant jumped from the automobile. Johnson put his
foot to the throttle, but not quickly enough. As the massive vehicle
pulled away, its driver was shot again, twice.
Remarkably, with 4 bullets in his body and losing copious amounts of
blood, Johnson drove all night across the desert to the little town of
Stoval. There, a Yuma-bound passenger train was flagged down and, as fate
would have it, a Southern Pacific railroad detective was aboard.
Arrangements were made to care for Johnson, and the train went on its way.
After traveling 2 1/2 miles, the keen-eyed detective spotted Estaver
walking along the tracks. Minutes later, the wanton killer was arrested
and was on his way to jail at Yuma.
Incensed by the brutal murder of a hapless woman and the near-fatal
shooting of her husband, talk of lynching began. What started as a muted
whisper among citizens of Yuma soon exploded into a deafening cry. When a
mob began to form around the jail, the sheriff knew he had to get the
prisoner out of Yuma County fast.
In the dead of night, Estaver was whisked by automobile to Dome where the
heavily shackled prisoner was put aboard a midnight train to Tucson. There
he was incarcerated in the county jail to await trail, the killing having
occurred in Pima County.
In a courtroom packed with spectators, what would be the lengthiest trial
12 days in recent times, got underway. Estaver glibly told the court that
Mexicans or Indians had attacked the Johnsons; he had nothing to do with
the shootings. He was persuasive and the trial ended with a hung jury.
A 2nd trial was scheduled, but not before headlines exploded in the
Arizona Daily Star: "Estaver Rushed to Florence to Prevent Mob Violence."
"Killed Texas Sheriff" and "Escaped from Oklahoma Penitentiary."
And, in fact, Estaver was not Estaver at all, and certainly was not a
dentist. This prim little man was a hardened criminal from Beaumont,
Texas, by the name of Paul V. Hadley. He had escaped from the penitentiary
at McAlester, Oklahoma, where he was serving a life term for the
cold-blooded murder of a Texas lawman.
On May 19, 1922, Hadley's 2nd trail commenced. This time he was not so
lucky. Deliberating just 15 minutes, the jury returned a guilty verdict
and recommended the death penalty. 5 days later, the judge sentenced the
convicted murderer to "hang by the neck until dead."
On April 12, the night before his execution, Hadley borrowed a typewriter
from a Star reporter and tapped out a statement of some 500 words
proclaiming his innocence and, not surprisingly, lambasting capital
punishment. "I believe in God," he wrote, "and I will not go to His
presence with a lie on my lips. I am not guilty."
He was, however, as guilty as could be. On Friday the 13th, chronicled the
Star, "Paul Hadley briskly, yet without show of over-confidence, walked
directly to the death trap." Moments later, Hadleys body dangled at rope's
end.
(source: Arizona Capitol Times)