William Westwood: An Overview

*** Revised and updated (2021) ***

William Westwood’s tale is one of a misguided youth who finds himself whisked away from all he held dear to endure a lifetime of punishment and lawlessness in Australia. He took to the bush as a teenager and soon became one of the most renowned highwaymen in Australian history under the pseudonym Jacky Jacky (alternatively written in the press as Jackey Jackey), but met a grisly end on Norfolk Island ten years after first arriving in New South Wales. What follows is a concise, summarised account of his life and bushranging career.

William Westwood was born on 7 August, 1820 and was raised in Manuden, Essex; he was the eldest of five siblings. As a youth he fell in with bad company and began acting up. At fourteen he had his first conviction: twelve months hard labour for bailing up a woman on the road and stealing clothes from her. Westwood’s accomplice Ben Jackson got off lightly with a flogging.

When he got out of gaol, Westwood went straight for a time, but was soon in court again as a result of stealing a coat, which he then pawned off. As this was his second conviction he found himself, at the age of sixteen, being transported with 310 other convicts on the convict ship Mangles on 18 March, 1837, for a term of fourteen years. Westwood was a surprisingly refined young man, with a decent education for the time and a strong grasp of language; he conversed freely with anyone he came across. He was described as standing at 5’5″, ruddy complexion, brown hair and grey eyes; a scar on the right side of his upper lip, another on the back of his right hand, a blister mark between the breasts and several tattoos — left arm: illegible blue mark, 7 Aug 1820, 3 Jan 1837; back of left hand: figure of the sun. The tattoos were likely either made while serving time in gaol or while waiting to be transported. Indeed, one of the tattoos was the date he expected to end his sentence and return to England.

When he arrived in New South Wales he was sent to Hyde Park Barracks. He was kept here until given his assignment. He was eventually assigned as a servant to Phillip King at Gidleigh Station, Bungendore. Westwood, now seventeen, endured a harsh journey from Rooty Hill to the place he was to work off his sentence. Days were hard and nights were spent sleeping on bare ground, chained to the axle of the supply wagon. Eventually he arrived at the station to start work, and it was here that he would spent the next three years under overbearing and tyrannical masters. He was always testing the boundaries, and after being spotted in town one night, having sneaked out of his quarters, was dragged back to Gidleigh and given fifty lashes. This only strengthened his resolve to rebel.

After suffering at the hands of his master, who saw fit to have him beaten and whipped at even the slightest offence, as well as being short changed on his already inadequate supplies and rations by the overseer, in 1840 Westwood absconded again. When he was inevitably caught, he was given another fifty lashes and sent to work in an iron gang near Goulburn. Conditions here were even worse than at his first assignment, but he knew it would be fleeting and expected to be sent to a new assignment when he was done.

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Gidleigh, the station in Bungendore that Westwood absconded from, depicted by Phillip King [Source]

After his stint in the iron gang was done he was sent back to Gidleigh, much to his dismay. The routine played out again: Westwood absconded, was caught and given fifty lashes. The next time, Westwood wanted to make sure he stayed at large. He and two other convicts gathered enough supplies to last them until they got clear away, then, on 14 December 1840, they bolted.

It wasn’t long before Westwood fell in with the notorious bushranger Paddy Curran. The pair were associated from their time as convicts, and Westwood was eager to have a crack at bushranging. Unbeknownst to Westwood, Curran was extremely violent and his morals were diametrically opposed to Westwood’s in just about every way, but none so conspicuous as his attitude to women. As the story goes, during a house raid, Westwood walked in on Curran in the process of raping the lady of the house. Westwood struck Curran, preventing him from proceeding, and threatened to shoot him. Westwood decided he would rather work alone than associate with such a despicable person.

As Westwood got the hang of highway robbery, news of his daring began to spread through the region, though much of it was pure fiction. On one occasion it was said that he bailed up a commissary and upon discovering the commissary’s wife was in the coach, opened the door, swept the ground with his cabbage tree hat in a gentlemanly manner and invited her to dance with him – a request that she obliged. This and many other anecdotes have no tangible evidence to back them up however. Some accounts attested to his masterful horsemanship, likely honed while he worked as a groom at Gidleigh as part of his assignment. In one story he reputedly bailed up a man in Goulburn and implored him to note the time, then a few hours later he bailed up another gentleman near Braidwood, almost 100 kilometers away, and implored him to do the same in order to set a personal record. Again, this is not likely to be anything other than a flight of fancy. His taste for race horses was nigh on insatiable, with him stealing such creatures from Terrence Murray and several others in the region, either on the roads or from farms. He attributed his success in evading capture to his choice of fine horse flesh over the run down nags the police rode. Among his crimes, he robbed the Queanbeayan mail, and robbed Mr. Edinburgh among several others on the Sydney road. In fact, he took a particular liking to robbing mailmen as the takings were often rather good.

By his own account, there were several close shaves with police, including one where a supposed friend had taken money from him to purchase a Christmas dinner, but had instead procured the constabulary. On another occasion he narrowly avoided capture by hiding in a tree. Westwood had become a fly in the ointment to law enforcement, but it would only escalate.

William Westwood (illustration by Aidan Phelan)

On the afternoon of Monday 11 January, 1841, Jacky Jacky stole a black mare from Mr. McArthur before attempting to rob a mailman that night at Bungonie, whereupon shots were fired. The next day he raided a store at Boro Creek where he procured fine garments and dressed himself in haute couture so that he may cut a fine figure while about his nefarious deeds, including a rather fetching top hat. Such was the extent of his outrages that the entirety of the mounted police in the region, trackers included, were led by Lieutenant Christie and a Mr. Stewart in hot pursuit.

On 13 January 1841, things came to a head when a man arrived in Bungendore, shouting that he was being chased by a bushranger who meant to shoot him. Sure enough, Jacky Jacky soon arrived on a stolen horse, riding through Bungendore for fully an hour and a half, stopping only to have a chat with a man named Eccleston. Soon word reached the local magistrate, Powell, who went with his brother Frank and a local man named Richard Rutledge to capture the infamous bushranger, despite a distinct lack of weapons with which to defend themselves against the armed bandit. Alas after the posse hesitated in approaching the rogue, he caught wind of them and mounted his steed, riding off at full gallop. The men gave chase. A man named William Balcombe was riding ahead with Revered McGrath in a gig. Stopping the gig in the road, McGrath and Balcombe got out and Balcombe confronted the bushranger, McGrath also pulling a revolver on him. Westwood surrendered, complaining that he could have gotten away if his musket were not in such poor shape.

The desperado was escorted back to the local inn where he was detained. However, Jacky Jacky was not ready to go down without a fight and during the night he overpowered one of his guards and stole his weapons. He bolted out of the inn and across the plains. This did not go unnoticed and Frank Powell saw the fugitive legging it through the open space. Powell fired a pistol at Westwood without effect and gathered more firearms from inside before heading off in hot pursuit with a postman, who had become embroiled in the affair by accident. Soon Jacky Jacky was once more apprehended. But the next day while being escorted to Bargo Brush, Westwood escaped custody on foot. He made it a mile away before being recaptured. Not in the mood for any nonsense, the police tied Westwood to his horse for the remainder of the trip. That night, Westwood broke out of the lock up and stole the guard’s weapon and ammunition before taking a horse and riding to freedom.

The beginning of the end came when he called into the Black Horse Inn on the Berrima Road. Westwood casually walked in and ordered refreshments. He then proceeded to bail the place up. Folklore tells that he was served by Miss Gray, the publican’s daughter, who recognised that this man with pistol braces and fine clothes must be the infamous Jacky Jacky. She screamed and pounced on the bushranger, who fought to throw the girl off as she called for her mother and father. All three tried to restrain Westwood who shook them off time and again until a man named Waters, a carpenter that had been repairing shingles on the inn’s roof, entered and knocked Westwood out cold by striking him on the head with a shingling hammer. In truth it was Grey, the publican, and two assigned servants, Waters and McCrohan, who subdued the bushranger, who took two fierce blows to the head with the shingling hammer to go down. With Westwood captured, the Grays earned themselves a cool £30 reward and Westwood was quickly locked up in Wooloomooloo Gaol.

Westwood was put on trial for robbing the store at Boro and was sentenced to penal servitude for life. He was sent to Darlinghurst Gaol but was shortly caught trying to escape. He was then imprisoned on Cockatoo Island where he organised a party of twenty five other convicts to join him in an escape attempt. Escape from Cockatoo Island was considered impossible, but the impossible was no deterrent for William Westwood. The gang subdued a guard and tied him up. Breaching the boundaries they made it to the water and were about to risk sharks and drowning to swim to Balmain but were deftly captured by the water police. The New South Wales government had had enough of the troublesome Englishman and sent him to fulfill his sentence in Van Diemen’s Land with his co-conspirators. Perhaps Port Arthur could take them down a peg or four.

As the story goes, while being sent to Tasmania, the convict men were put in the brig of the prison ship, naked and shackled in an attempt to prevent any attempts to escape. This of course failed and the men broke free from their cages and tried to reach the deck. Soldiers battened down the hatches and kept things thus until arrival at Port Arthur. When the hatches were opened the prisoners were unconscious in the brig, having been denied food and adequate oxygen due to the captain’s decision not to risk opening the hatches to take food to the men during the several day trip.

Despite Port Arthur’s reputation as an inescapable prison, William Westwood managed to escape from Port Arthur multiple times. Most occasions resulted in a few days of freedom at most. In one attempt at freedom with two other convicts, the trio waded naked into the waters at Eaglehawk Neck. Westwood’s companions were taken by sharks and, in his panic, Westwood managed to lose his clothes after his bundled gear was swept away in the waters as he crossed. He was found days later wandering naked and starving.

Such repeated misbehaving saw him put in solitary confinement for almost three months. When he emerged he was assigned to the commissariat. At this time he helped rescue a boatload of soldiers after their vessel had capsized. His reward was to be sent to Glenorchy Probation Station. Here, as could be anticipated, he once more escaped on 31 July, 1845. This time he successfully took to bushranging with two others. They travelled up through the Tasmanian Midlands in an attempt to reach Launceston, where they planned to steal a boat and sail to Sydney. They became hopelessly lost and were unable to find a boat, resulting in one of the men leaving their company after getting lost, while the other remained until they reached Green Ponds, whereupon he left for fear that Westwood would shoot him as he was the designated guide through the bush and had only succeeded in getting them stranded in unfamiliar territory. When Westwood found himself alone again, he continued on foot towards Launceston, hoping to find a way off the island, but was recaptured before reaching his destination. By this time he was suffering a bout of deep depression and posed no resistance.

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Source: The Courier (Hobart, Tas. : 1840 – 1859) 6 August 1845: 2.

Now having exasperated the Van Diemen’s Land government too, he was sentenced to death. The penalty was altered to penal servitude for life on Norfolk Island and Westwood found himself once more sailing to exile, this time headed to what was referred to as the Isle of Despair.

In February of 1844, there was a change of administration at Norfolk Island. Alexander Maconochie, the previous man in charge, had firmly believed in the benefits of rehabilitating offenders rather than simply punishing them, and to this end he reduced work hours, including a work-free Sunday, and created a “marks” system that meant that good behaviour would be rewarded. Flogging incidents were decreased but still strictly enforced in cases of sodomy, which were rampant throughout the prison. Perhaps the most significant measure Maconochie had brought in was vegetable patches. Inmates were given small gardens within which they could grow their own sweet potatoes and other vegetables, and were also given cooking pots and utensils so that they could cook their own meals, allowing them to eat in their cells in privacy. Only able to enact these reforms with the 600 newest inmates, the reforms were still considerably effective, with morale high and major incidents in the prison reduced. Despite Governor Gipps’ recommendations to the government to continue Maconochie’s residency at Norfolk Island, the decision had already been made and Major Joseph Childs became the new Commandant. As a military man with wide campaign experience, and a strict disciplinarian, he decided to institute a few changes to bring the convicts under his thumb. To this end incidents of flogging were increased, hours of labour were also increased, rations were reduced and the small gardens the prisoners were allowed, and the produce they had been growing therein, were banned. In a half-hearted attempt to respond to complaints the administration allowed convicts a cup of peas and a cup of flour every day. Unsurprisingly this was not met with the gratitude that was expected by the administration and Childs set in place a proclamation whereby food was to be served in bulk and individual cooking was prohibited. When the inmates were at work their utensils were confiscated on 1 July, 1846.

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Front View of Gaol – Norfolk Island [Source]

This was the final straw and Westwood incited a work party to take up arms against the guards and administration of the island. Approximately 1,600 inmates joined in. Armed with a cudgel, Westwood claimed first blood when he clubbed a particularly despised guard to death. He then took up an axe and headed to the barracks, followed by a seething horde of convicts. Here he entered the kitchen and murdered the cook and upon spying two sleeping soldiers in an adjoining room, used the axe to stave in the skull of one soldier, which alerted the other. The soldier, seeing Westwood before him with the bloodied axe, begged, “Please, think of my wife and children!” to which the unrepentant bushranger replied, “Wife and children be damned.” Westwood then killed the soldier as brutally as the others. Still not satiated, but needing a moment of respite from the mayhem he had caused, Westwood filled a pipe with tobacco and had a smoke while the convicts rampaged around him. Westwood, having had his respite, took up his axe and headed for the commandant’s building. Bursting into the building with an escort, Westwood sought out the commandant. The commandant had secreted himself in a small storeroom adjacent to his office. Westwood tracked him down and took a swing at him, narrowly missing the commandant’s head as he ducked to avoid the blow. Managing to escape, the commandant roused a force of troops that descended upon the marauders and subdued them.

Westwood and thirteen other key figures in the riot, including bushranger Lawrence Kavanagh, formerly of Cash and company, were tried in September and charged with the murders. The evidence was irresistible and twelve of the men were sentenced to execution by hanging.

The morning of his execution, Westwood wrote a letter to the reverend of Port Arthur and also wrote a declaration that he was the only party guilty of the offence that all twelve sentenced men were condemned for. On 13 October, 1846, William Westwood was hanged for his crimes. He was twenty-six years old.

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This is claimed to be William Westwood’s death mask. Some doubt has been thrown on the identity of the face in recent times and some now consider it doubtful that it is him.

A cast was supposedly made of his face and is the only visual record we have of the dashing young outlaw, despite its contended authenticity. Westwood was buried with the other hanged men in a mass grave called Murderer’s Mound on the boundaries of the prison. Such was the impact of the riots that the commandant was fired from his post and calls were made for the Norfolk Island penal colony to be shut down and the inmates transferred to Port Arthur. In a sense, Westwood has succeeded in bringing about a change in how convicts were treated, though he would not live to see the closure of one of the most brutal and dehumanising prisons in the British Empire.

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Murder’s Mound – Norfolk Island [Source]

Spotlight: PATRICK AND JAMES KENNIFF ON TRIAL for the MURDER OF CONSTABLE DOYLE (Part Three)

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The drama in the courthouse continues to rumble on as the jury is given one last round of the evidence in the case of the murder of Constable Doyle and Albert Dahlke. The trial rumbles to its dramatic conclusion, the judge recapitulates the evidence to the jury and the brothers are given their fate.

Part One

Part Two

***

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Addresses to the Jury

Early on Saturday morning the court was filled and before proceedings commenced there was riot standing room inside. Among those present during the day were the Premier and the Minister for Railways, who sat at the barristers’ table, while many prominent citizens were to be seen standing in the crowd in the court room. With the punctuality that has marked him throughout the trial his Honor took his seat on the bench shortly before ten o’clock, and a few minutes later Mr. McGrath resumed his address to the jury. The prisoner’s advocate spoke altogether for three hours and a half.
On the previous evening he had pointed out the weak links in the chain of circumstantial evidence, and laid particular stress on the fact that the only direct testimony connecting the prisoners with Doyle or Dahlke on March 30 was that of the aboriginal tracker, Sam Johnson. Many discrepancies in Sam’s story were alluded to. Sam had said that he saw Tom Kenniff there, but a Crown witness had proved that Tom Kenniff was many miles away. Then Sam recognised James Kenniff though he had never seen him before, and he said he WORE A RED TIE.
With the aboriginal’s fondness for bright colors Sam had fixed on red, while as a matter of fact it was not probable that a bushman like James Kenniff would be wearing a tie at all. He urged that the Crown had yet to prove that Doyle was dead there was no conclusive proof that he was dead. He referred to the evidence of Dr. Voss regarding the burnt remains. The doctor would not say positively whether they were the remains of a black or a white man — in fact he could say nothing except that they were human remains. That the Kenniffs went about armed was nothing against them. Also it was not apparent that they had any animus against Constable Doyle. He dwelt at length on the evidence of Thornton and Mulholland proving that the prisoners had been at Hutton Creek on March 30, over 90 miles away from Lethbridge’s Pocket, and also referred in detail to Sam Johnson’s evidence concerning the shots he had heard fired. On Saturday morning Mr. McGrath again referred to the tracker’s evidence, whose mind, he said, was so disordered by fright that he was prepared to see Kenniffs in every person he met that day. If the Kenniffs had been there they would have had no difficulty in catching the blackfellow. They were weil mourned, while Johnson was riding an old cast-off police horse. Were they going to hang two white men on the uncorroborated evidence of a blackfellow — a blackfollow who DID NOT TAKE THE OATH and had no idea of religion? Against his evidence they had the unshaken testimony of Thornton. He then dwelt at length, on the fallacy of trusting to circumstantial evidence, and concluded his address by an appeal to the jury to give the men fair play and the benefit of any doubts that existed, and “may God direct you to do what is right.”
Sam Johnson

Mr. Lilley said that after Mr. McGrath’s lengthy speech it would be inconsistent with his duty if he did not also address the jury and thereupon spoke for about an hour in a very passionate strain. It was not the calm, clear, dispassionate, analytical address usually expected from a Crown Prosecutor, but rather a vehement appeal to the jury to find the prisoners guilty. He characterised the alibi set up by the defence as a vile conspiracy supported by deliberate lying. In his usual overbearing style he brusquely called the witness Thornton a perjured liar, and was equally hard on the other witnesses for the defence. He then gave the jury the Crown’s theory of the murder, as outlined in his opening address. When James Kenniff was arrested, he said, Patrick Kenniff came suddenly round the hill and shot Dahlke. After Dahlke was killed, Doyle had to die too. “And there,” exclaimed Barrister Lilley, pointing to the prisoners with dramatic gesture, “there are, the murderers. He was butchered to death by those fiends.” As Mr. Lilley is sfond of epithetepithe s he will perhaps pardon us if we term his speech fiendish and vindictive. Yes, Mr. Lilley certainly EARNED HIS BLOOD MONEY.

Jim Kenniff

It was about 12.45pm when His Honor, the Chief Justice, commenced his summing-up to the jury. He said that the prisoners were, as the Jury were aware, charged with the wilful murder of Constable George Doyle at Lethbridge’s Pocket on March 30 last. The facts of the case were very simple. He explained to the jury what was the law on murder and manslaughter. On the evidence in this case it was murder. He could not see anything to suggest manlslaughter, nor could he see from the evidence that the prisoners had taken the life of Doyle unintentionally. It meant that the prisoners were guilty of murder or nothing. If two or more persons formed a common purpose to prosecute an unlawful act in conjunction, and in the prosecution of that act a murder was committed, they were both deemed guilty. If the jury came to the conclusion upon the evidence that the prisoners formed a common purpose to evade arrest by Constable Doyle on that day, and for that purpose they used firearms and killed Constable Doyle, each would be GUILTY OF MURDER.

Paddy Kenniff

No doubt the jury had paid careful attention to the evidence. There were various opinions held about circumstantial evidence. Some people thought that circumstantial evidence was better than direct evidence. In some cases it was better than direct evidence because there was a probability of some people who gave direct evidence tellig untruths. The advantage of circumstantial evidence was that if the facts were established there was no object gained by falsehood. Circumstantial facts, if established and put together, were more satisfactory than the direct evidence of one or two persons. It was like a puzzle they had seen in their childhood, where a lot of blocks had to be put together before they had the picture. They could not forget that illustration as applied to this case. There was evidence that four persons met at Hutton Creek on that Sunday morning. What was material was that there was direct evidence that four people met there on that Sunday. That depended entirely on the assertion of those people. They supplied a description of the camp of the things in that camp, and said it could not be possible for the prisoners to be at Lethbridge’s Pocket on that date. In the case of murder — life or death, and even in ‘any other case — the jury should weigh the evidence very carefully to ascertain the true facts and to draw inferences. It would be AN AWFUL THING to convict men of murder or, indeed, any crime on conjectures. But he supposed no jury would do such a thing in these days.

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His Honor then referred to a case quoted by Mr. McGrath which happened in the reign of Elizabeth. It was not for the jury, because that case had been a miscarriage of justice, to do anything of the kind now. His Honor next referred to another point raised, that the jury could not convict because no body had been found. There had been a case of murder tried in that court where the body had not been found. It was shown that a few miles out at sea the man had been shot through the chest, the blood spouted out, and he fell overboard into the sea. The jury were satisfied that he was dead. It was necessary to show that the prisoners or accused persons committed the deed by direct or circumstantial evidence. It was the duty of the jury in capital cases to give their attention to the evidence. If they had any doubt it was their duty to give the prisoner the benefit of that doubt. If they were satisfied beyond all reasonable doubt, they should not hesitate to do their duty. It was a lamentable thing for young men to be tried for murder. It was a painful duty for himself and the jury to perform and it was a painful thing that men should be murdered, but crime could not be allowed to go unpunished. The jury would have to weigh the evidence dispassionately and see what conclusion they should arrive at. His Honor at some length referred to the evidence of Doyle, Dahlke, and Sam Johnson leaving the Upper Warrego Police Station on the morning of March 23. He described the situation of Lethbridge’s Pocket, and referred to the fact that Doyle was OUT WITH WARRANTS for the prisoners for horse-stealing. The witness Charles Pearson Tom had seen tracks on his run. That was a coincidence. When Sam Johnson espied three men in Lethhridge’s Pocket they were riding horses and had two pack-horses. Sam Johnson knew Pat and Tom Kenniff, but had never seen James Kenniff before, though he knew he was out looking for him. His Honor then referred to what happened in the Pocket that morning, as given in evidence, and to Sam Johnson escaping through the range to a place rolled the Pump-hole where he came upon Burke, who went back to the pocket, which was a courageous thing for him to do. In referring to the blood-stained saddle on Dahlke’s mare, His Honor said “The man was gone from the saddle, which was covered with blood. Blood was on the withers and mane of the horse, which indicated that whoever sat in that saddle had received a wound of some kind to cause such a quantity of blood to come. The jury would probably come to the conclusion that he was shot. From that they would infer that Dahlke was the last man riding in that saddle and had been shot, which. caused him to bleed so copiously. His Honor referred to the next visit paid to the pocket, where little heaps apparently made by leaves and not logs were found, under which was found to be what Millard said was blood. There were THREE POOLS OF BLOOD from which, it might be inferred, that Dahlke was killed there, and if they assumed Doyle was dead, the blood might have come from him. His Honor next referred to the apple tree and the log on which bullet wounds were found. This showed that the man fired at moved to the right in a line with the log. He had been missed again and again and had moved to the right where something had occurred, which was probably the cause of the pools of blood. There were the pack-bags which Burke had seen on the Sunday which were gone on the Tuesday when he returned to the pocket. Therefore somebody must have been at the pocket between the Sunday and Tuesday and taken them away. The bodies had been burned and the bones pounded down, before they were put into the pack-bags.

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Constable Doyle

At this stage the court adjourned for lunch. On resuming, His Honor continued:

Dr. Voss’ evidence had proved that the bags contained human remains. These bags had been proved to contain the remains of a man or men. They might assume, so far, that they were not the remains of Doyle or Dahlke. In the pocket on the Sunday morning Dahlke’s horse was found with blood sprinkled over the saddle and mane. Doyle’s horse was found two days later with the pack-bags across the saddle. Other things had been found in the Pocket belonging to the missing men. Neither Doyle nor Dahlke had been heard of since that time. There was the evidence then to justify, them in coming to the conclusion that the pack-bags contained the REMAINS OF DOYLE AND DAHLKE: that they had been murdered in that pocket. By whom was another matter. Evidence had been given that Doyle and Dahlke had gone out to arrest the prisoners, and had come upon them in that pocket and remains were afterwards found in the pack-bags.

Under those circumstances he thought that there was not sufficient evidence before the jury to enable them to draw an inference that they had been murdered by the prisoners, if the evidence stopped there. But it did not stop there. He would call their attention to a singular fact. The two prisoners disappeared. Nobody saw them excepting the two witnesses who said they saw them on Hutton Vale on the Sunday. With the exception of these two persons they appeared to have disappeared from civilisation for a week less than three months, when they were arrested near a camp at or near Mitchell, armed with two rifles, while two revolvers were found at the camp.

Those facts were the outline, or skeleton of the case. Some facts were not disputed, excepting the evidence of Sam Johnson. He would ask the jury whether they believed Doyle was dead. Though the prisoners were not charged with killing Dahlke the deeds took place at the same time, it was one transaction. They were hale, hearty men. Doyle was a policeman going out with a warrant. It did not appear whether Dahlke was interested in that warrant. There was evidence that James Kenniff and Dahlke had met before, and were not the best of friends. If they believed Burke’s story James Kenniff had said that he was a better man than when he was on Babilboora, and Pat Kenniff had said “Whatever Dahlke gets you’ll get.” Dahlke had thought it necessary to go with Doyle to arrest the two prisoners. He need not describe in detail how the two men were equipped. Doyle had not been seen since, and there was no reason suggested why he SHOULD SUDDENLY VANISH off the face of the earth. His father is still alive. It was proved and sworn that on the occasion they left Doyle wore on his arm two little red armlets made up with two rings which had been given to him by Millard. He had here an exhibit similar to the armlets Doyle wore. Doyle also had with him five spare bullets, which he carried in his belt. Dahlke wore in the lapel of his coat some bouquet pins. His Honor described how those pins had been found at the flat rock. Dahlke’s mother had given them to him. He then referred to the flat rock which bore signs of having carried a fierce fire, and of the fatty substance found on it and in the crevices. Also the two sticks which had been used as pokers, with charred ends covered with fat and grease. A piece of vertebrae was found, fat still remaining between the bones, showing that the man could not be long dead. His Honor further dwelt on the fact of the two rings and the pins found. After referring to the chances of one man in a hundred wearing those pins, the learned Judge said that there was a reasonable probability of the remains being Doyle and Dahlke’s. That was for the jury to say and if they had any reasonable doubt they knew how to give effect to it if they had no reason to doubt that it was Doyle and Dahlke who were burned on that rock, and that they were dead, the next thing to consider was WHO DID IT? They would probably come to the conclusion that they were murdered that day. They would come to the conclusion that the same men that killed those men covered the blood on the ground, and that the same men burned the bodies on the rock. The first thing the murderers would do would be to hide all traces of their crime. Three men were seen in the Pocket, and they did not know what time the tracker would come back again. He then referred to the time Burke was at the Pocket, and what happened when he left till the next Tuesday. The murderer or murderers had come back and had lit fires to hide the marks of the blood on the ground, and had lit a fire on the other side of the creek. Mr. Lilley had suggested that they might have had an idea of burning the bodies there. By Tuesday they had done what they proposed to do for the purpose of hiding the traces of their crime ; they had burned the bodies, packed the contents in the pack-bags, which they threw across the police horse George. Whoever they were they were trying to conceal their crime. This was attempted but was frustrated by the horse George getting loose and coming back to Lethbridge’s Pocket. Two men met their death, and the murderers endeavored to remove all traces of their crime. That was what the circumstantial evidence lead to.

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Albert Dahlke and Boudicea

Various people had various ideas concerning the credibility of ABORIGINAL EVIDENCE. Some maintained that aboriginals were not truthful at all, that they would say anything that was told to them. They must judge Sam Johnson by his evidence, by his demeanor in the witness-box and the probability of his story ; it was a most consistent story. His Honor then read over Sam Johnson’s evidence. That was all the evidence of what took place, and supposing it to be true, was it not a likely story? He also read Burke and Tom’s evidence. If the blood Millard saw was Dahlke’s he must have bled profusely. Millard’s description of what he had seen in the Pocket was next read, as was also portion of Sub-inspector Dillon’s evidence. That was all the evidence relating to the pocket. If the prisoners were there, and Johnson’s story was correct that he lifted the prisoner James Kenniff out of the saddle and then, went to the pack-horse and heard five shots fired, one first and then four, it was very improbable that Jim Kenniff fired the first shot. Where Doyle was standing it was not at all likely that Jim Kenniff fired the shot at all. It must have been Pat or Tom. Tom is only a young boy, and they knew that in the evening he was at the new yards with his father and brother at 11 o’clock that night, whereas the prisoners had not been seen till their arrest. The two prisoners carried revolvers, and there was nothing to show that Tom did. It was not necessary to come to the conclusion that the prisoner James or Tom fired the shot. Th probability was that Patrick Kenniff fired the first shot at Dahlke who was sitting on the horse and the blood spurted over the horse and reins. That evidence was connected by other bullet marks to the right, and the pools of blood indicated that they WERE FIRING AT a moving object. The evidence of the surveyor was that he saw bullet marks on a log six yards from the apple tree. Two shots were certninly fired at a moving object to the right, then to the logs, where pools of blood were found, and that was where Doyle was shot or probably killed.

Supposing that that was what happened there who was responsible for it? It was not likely that both prisoners fired at Doyle, though they might have. His Honor then quoted the Law of two persons acting in concert, aiding one another, counselling and-procuring a crime. If they were acting in concert, both were guilty. If both formed the purpose before Dahlke was shot, and determined to resist apprehension and for that purpose fired at Doyle, they were guilty. The evidence was circumstantial in some particulars, though it was not as far as Johnson seeing James Kenniff held by Doyle, and Dahlke holding the bridle of his horse. Murders were not generally done while anybody was looking on. The answer to this charge, which was a serious one, was, “We were not there; we were 300 miles away, and could not be there.” That was the answer. What was set up might be called A DOUBLE ALIBI.

The two prisoners say they were at Hutton Vale on that Sunday morning, and secondly that Tom Kenniff wasn’t at the pocket at all on that Sunday morning. These two matters should be considered separately. Regarding, the allegation that the two prisoners were at Hutton Vale on the Sunday morning, his Honor referred to the story told by the two prisoners of their forming an idea to go to the Roma races. Hutton Creek was 95 miles from Carnarvon, and Roma was another 84 miles distant. They were to ride 80 miles on Saturday and Sunday to reach Roma on Monday. He described the camp at Hutton Creek, and the meeting of Mulholland and Thornton with the prisoners. He had before said that this direct evidence contradicted the circumstantial evidence. Both sides had directed the jury’s attention to the state of the country in March last. The prisoners picked up Darramundi and were going to travel him day and night till they got to Roma. The evidence of both James and Patrick was that their rifles were planted and that they did not get them until April 5 or 6, and that on their way to Hutton Vale they picked up some rations and put them in a bag across a riding saddle and that they had nothing else. The witnesses Mulholland and Thornton that on the occasion they saw the prisoners in camp at Hutton Vale, the Kenniffs had a pack-saddle and one rifle, or two. The suggestion was that the alibi was not true. His Honor dwelt at some length upon the nature of the evidence given in proving the alibis. It was extremely difficult to go into the witness-box and tell an untrue story relying solely on the memory. There must be a foundation for the facts related. He had heard circumstantial STORIES TOLD BY WOMEN which were simply impossible to have been invented. A witness might say that at time related certain things happened by substituting another date, and could then stand any amount of cross-examination. They had only to stick to the date, and relate things seen on another day. The evidence of the two witnesses, and Mulholland could not be accused of being unfriendly to the prisoners, should be considered. They said they saw a pack-saddle there and rifles. If that was true it was not on March 30. It must have been earlier or later. Of course the story was to be taken into consideration that they had ridden 95 miles on the road to Roma races and had still 84 miles to ride and had only a day to do it in. There was the evidence given by Tom Kenniff that on the evening of Good Friday his brothers said they were going straight on to Mitchell. That was the evidence, and it was for the jury to believe whether they were at Hutton Vale on March 30. It was for them to say whether they were satisfied with Mulholland’s and Thornton’s evidence. The former said he HAD LIED FREELY to the police, and considered himself at liberty to do so. Was it probable that the four men met at Hutton Vale on March 30?

The father and the sons had been traced from Lethbridge’s Pocket, and the evidence showed that the tracks were fresh, though they said they had left the pocket two or three weeks before. All circumstances should be taken into consideration. The prisoners started to go to the races on Good Friday night and changed their minds because a horse went lame. They rode about the bush with rations they had got long before, and when arrested they were armed. They knew for about a month that £1000 had been offered for their arrests. It was for the jury to WEIGH ALL THE EVIDENCE in their minds ; to consider what facts reliance could be placed on and if the truth of the truth of the actual facts established to their satisfaction was consistent with the guilt of the prisoners, or if it was with their innocence, it was their duty to say so. They should- reconcile all the facts of the case with the innocence of the prisoners, if they could not then they should say they were guilty. As to the men who fired the shot, if they were acting in concert to resist arrest then they should find both guilty. He did not think he could assist them any further. He would ask them to consider their verdict.

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The Flat Rock where the bodies were burned

 

FOUND GUILTY! Patrick and James Kenniff Sentenced to be Hanged

At 3.15p.m. the jury retired to consider their verdict, and the prisoners were removed to the cells. Ten minutes later the jury sent in a request to be allowed to have the saddle, pins, and rings. These exhibits were sent to them.

Mr. McGrath then asked to have the following points reserved for the Full Court.
(1) That there was no evidence before the jury of Constable Doyle’s death ; (2) That there was no evidence that the prisoners, James and Patrick Kenniff, had acted in concert in committing the murder.

At 3.45p.m. the jury were again brought into court and his Honor directed them further. He said that the evidence given by Burke about James Kenniff saying he would meet Ryan, Doyle, and Dahlke together and would belt the lot of them, was not evidence of any intention to kill Doyle, it was evidence only of ill-will. If they believed the statement that Patrick drew a revolver and said. “Whatever Dahlke gets you will get the very same,” it would indicate that he had some idea of shooting Dahlke.

The jury again retired. At 4.10 p.m. the prisoners returned to the dock, and at 4.15 the jury filed into court and stood in front of the jury box while they answered individually to their names.

Then the associate asked: Gentlemen, have you agreed upon your verdict ?
The Foreman: We have.
Associate: Do you find the prisoner Patrick Kenniff guilty? — Yes.
Do you find the prisoner James Kenniff guilty? — Yes.
So say your foreman, so say you all?
Jurors (in low voice): Yes.
Mr. Lilley (in a subdued tone): I pray the sentence of the court.

While the jury were answering their names, the prisoners had shown some slight symptoms of nervousness. James Kenniff moved uneasily from foot to foot, while Patrick clasped and unclasped his hands. After the verdict “guilty ” had been pronounced both men resumed their accustomed attitudes. They leaned lazily against the front of the dock with their hands hanging over the front, and were apparently calm and composed. They had heard the worst, the tension was over, and they were now prepared for the fate that inevitably awaited them.

The Associate then turned to Patrick Kenniff and said: “Patrick Kenniff, you have been found guilty of wilful murder ; have you anything to say why sentence of death should not be passed upon you?”
Patrick Kenniff thus addressed, straightened himself up and, looking the judge squarely in the face, replied in a husky voice: ” Yes, your Honor, I know the sentence you are going to pass and before you do I say I AM AN INNOCENT MAN! I hope before I part from this world you will find I am an innocent man.”
James Kenniff was then similarly addressed. He hesitated, and then in a loud voice full of passion emphatically said: “Yes, I have! Your Honor I wish to mention, if you will allow me to comment on your summing up in our case to-day, that I think you never gave us one item of justice. I have no other witness to call, except Almighty God,  that I am an innocent man! He is the only one I can call, and I call upon Him. . . . Before your Honor SHUFFLES OFF THIS MORTAL COIL, you will find that . . . . is near the murderer, and that is all I have to say I am an innocent man!”
His Honor (calmly to Mr. McGrath): I reserve those points for the consideration of the Full Court, Mr. McGrath.
Then his Honor turned to the press box, and said: I hope the press will not mention the scandalous statements made. The press will not be justified in giving publicity to them.

[These remarks referred to something James Kenniff had said about one of the Crown witnesses, which we suppress out of deference to his Honor’s expressed wish, though we feel it our duty, equally with his Honor’s, to say that we see no reason why the statement of a condemned man should not have the fullest publicity. — Ed. Truth.]

After a pause his Honor said: — The Law, provides that where points are reserved, a Judge may pronounce or defer judgment. I think it is my duty to pronounce judgment.

In a voice that betrayed some emotion, the Chief Justice went on: — Patrick Kenniff, James Kenniff: You have been convicted of wilful murder, after a prolonged and patient trial, by a jury of great intelligence, who have given their fullest attention to the whole case. I invited them upon the facts as found established by evidence, if they could say the truth was consistent with your innocence, to find you not guilty. They Have not been able to say that the facts established here were consistent with your innocence. Nor can I (decisively). I think it is my duty to say that I entirely agree with the verdict of the jury, and I fail to see how they could give any other verdict. By a SERIES OF SINGULAR COINCIDENCES you have been brought to justice. The means adopted of concealing the evidence of your crime would certainly have been successful had it not been for an extraordinary accident. I find on reference that you have never been arraigned upon so serious a charge before, but that you are both familiar, for long periods, with the interior of gaol, and according to the evidence you had practically resorted to a fresh career of crime. I do not want to say anything to hurt your feelings. The points reserved for the Full Court I have already expressed my opinion. I told the jury, there was ample evidence to justify your conviction.

His Honor then removed his wig and donned the black cap, and continued in a low, solemn voice: I have only to pass on you the sentence of the law upon each of you and that is that you be returned to your former custody and at a place and time to be appointed by the Executive you and each of you be hanged by the neck till you are dead, and may God have mercy on your souls.”

His Honor then announcod that under the Criminal Code he respited the execution till after the points raised were argued before the Full Court. Turning to the jury he said that they were now discharged, after a painful trial with the thanks of the country for their services.

returning to gaol

[The remainder of the article is damaged, a chunk missing from the page in the archival copy. I have filled in what I can from inference and by referring to other contemporary articles. – AP]

The two prisoners smilingly shook hands with their solicitor, Mr. McGrath, [and] thanked him for his services. [They also shook hands with Mr. O’Neill, Mr. McGrath’s partner, and] were removed to the cells to await [transportation to the] waggonette which was [outside.] Meanwhile, a crowd of onlookers…had collected outside the [George Street entrance to the courthouse to await the coming of the police van. The] prisoners marched through [the concourse to the police van. The blinds were closely drawn and all that could be seen was the driver and two policemen on the front seat, at the back the hands of two policemen. A trooper rode behind. As the waggonette emerged] the crowd hooted [their support for the condemned men. The policemen] cocked their revolvers. [A feeble voice] called out. ” Good-bye Jim [Good-bye Pat.”] and the condemned men [were taken to] their last earthly habits [at Boggo Road] Gaol.


Source:

“The Crown says Doyle Was “Butchered to Death by these Two Fiends.”” Truth (Brisbane, Qld. : 1900 – 1954) 9 November 1902: 5.

“TERMINATION OF THE KENNIFF TRIAL.” The Brisbane Courier (Qld. : 1864 – 1933) 10 November 1902: 6.

“The Kenniffs.” The Telegraph (Brisbane, Qld. : 1872 – 1947) 10 November 1902: 4.

“THE KENNIFFS.” Worker (Brisbane, Qld. : 1890 – 1955) 15 November 1902: 9.

Spotlight: The Botched Execution of Donohoe’s Mate

In 1827 Jack Donohoe teamed up with two fellow convicts named George Kilroy and William Smith. Taking to the bush they robbed a man named Plomer. Found guilty of highway robbery, the trio were sentenced to death but Donohoe escaped from Bathurst Gaol and avoided his appointment with the hangman. What happened to his mates?


EXECUTION.

William Johnson, for murder, and two other criminals, named Kilroy and Smith, for highway robbery, underwent the awful sentence of the law on Monday last. The unhappy men abstained from addressing themselves to the multitude assembled for the purpose of witnessing the dreadful spectacle. Though silent, they appeared extremely devout. The Reverend Messrs. Cowper and Horton attended Johnson and Smith, whilst their hapless associate, Kilroy, received consolation through the Reverend Mr. Power, the Roman Minister. At about 20 minutes to ten o’clock, the fatal signal was given the pin that supported the drop was withdrawn, the drop fell! Horrible to behold, however, the rope that was to have suspended the centre culprit, Smith, snapped about half way, and the unhappy creature fell senseless against the foot of the gallows, whilst the other two were apparently dead in an instant. After a few moments the wretched man recovered, to be again susceptible of all the horrors of his situation. He did not appear to suffer much in his body from the dreadful fall but dismay, and anguish the most bitter, were portrayed in his looks. He was relieved from the broken cord, and supported on one of the coffins, when the Reverend Mr. Horton resumed the task of attempting to impart spiritual instruction to the unhappy man’s mind, by directing him to look to ” another and a better world.”

As it was impossible to fulfil the sentence on the culprit, until the other bodies were suspended the usual time, the Sheriff, accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Cowper, proceeded to Government-house, and acquainted the Governor with the heart-rending occurrence, for the purpose of ascertaining whether it were possible that clemency could be extended. HIS EXCELLENCY, however, who was aware of the painful consideration which the case of the unhappy criminal, Smith, had received by the Executive Council, and as he had committed no less than three highway robberies (one of which was attended with extreme violence, and that in one day, though he had only arrived in the Colony in August last-we say, HIS EXCELLENCY was reluctantly constrained to declare that he could not interfere with the operation of the law; and everyone must feel satisfied, if mercy could have been exercised with propriety, the life of this hapless wretch would have been spared. When the Sheriff returned to the press-yard, and announced to the unhappy man that the law must take its course, he seemed no way horror-stricken at the result of the application which he understood had been made in his behalf. Whilst the bodies of Johnson and Kilroy were lowered from the gallows Smith was removed; and, upon the bodies being placed within the coffins and the drop re-adjusted, Smith was assisted to the platform, when his earthly sufferings speedily terminated.

‘Ere this painful subject is dismissed, we cannot help remarking that this constitutes the second or third accident of the kind that has occurred within the last two or three years, and as it is a circumstance of that description wherein casualty should be always carefully prevented, we feel it our duty to condemn the practice of hazarding the possibility of increasing the sufferings of hapless criminals, who have justly forfeited their lives, by not, having recourse to those kind of instrument — that species of cord or rope — which would ensure the speedy destruction of life. Bale rope, we are informed, and indeed it has been proved in several instances, is not adapted to the executioner’s purpose; and we have no doubt, in future, that the sufferings of a poor wretch will not be prolonged, nor public feeling harrowed up, by a repetition of that which, we hope and trust, will never again occur in this Country.

“Execution.” The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser (NSW : 1803 – 1842) 26 March 1828: 2.