On Monday the curious return in greater numbers than ever. All seem certain that the trial will come to a conclusion this day, and probably this morning. The court officers apparently expect a quick verdict, for, in contrast to previous days, when they valiantly held the masses back, today they let everyone in. The seats are taken in an instant after the ten o’clock opening of the doors; the comparative laggards clog the aisles, crowd the entrances, and press close behind the tables where the defendant and the lawyers sit.
Stokes again seems hopeful, but his weariness is apparent. He chats casually with Tremain and McKeon but without any real spark. He seems exhausted and old; observers in the courtroom can hardly imagine that this is the same man who set Josie Mansfield’s young heart racing.
Judge Ingraham enters at ten thirty. The bailiff summons the jurors. Their names are called; each signifies his presence. Ingraham asks the foreman if they have agreed on a verdict.
The foreman replies that they have not. Their positions remain unchanged from Saturday. They have argued and argued, but their differences are irreconcilable.
Ingraham nods gravely. He reiterates why he has held them so long, citing the seriousness of the offense and the importance of the trial. But he accepts the foreman’s judgment that agreement is impossible. He thanks the jury members for their diligent service and dismisses them. The trial has failed.
Newsmen buttonhole the jurors as they leave the courtroom. No vow of secrecy binds them, and various members explain that on the first ballot, taken thirty minutes after they received their charge from Judge Ingraham, seven voted to convict on first-degree murder, while two insisted on the lesser crime of manslaughter—an alternative allowable under New York law. Three contended that the homicide was justified. The five dissenters joined forces around manslaughter, but there the deliberations stuck. Thirty-six hours later they remained stuck.
Stokes greets the verdict with tempered relief. He will not hang, not yet anyway. But neither will he be released. The deadlocked jury leaves him in the same position he has been in for six months—and in the same location: Judge Ingraham orders him back to the Tombs.