THE BUTLER TRAGEDIES.

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume XLIX, Issue 12640, 30 October 1905, Page 8

THE BUTLER TRAGEDIES.

REMARKABLE CONFESSION

LIFE AND DEATH OF A NOTORI-

OUS CRIMINAL

DUNEDIN, Wednesday. Eohoes of fne Butler tragedies are constantly being revived, and a remarkable confession is published here by tlhe " Dunedin Star," which as said to have been contributed by one of the murderer's associates. The identity of the author of the narrative is a secret, and in the course of his story the writer says: — There was banged in Brisbane not long ago a man who should have been hanged in Dunedin 20 years ago. Had thiat fate overtaken him there, society would have been saved many grievous wrongs. .That he was guilty of th« crime nothing can be more certain, for his demeanour and admissions to me almost amount to a confession. -Wharton (as in his one letter to me from Queensland he told me that was his ■real name) served under the name of Butler a sentence in gaol in Victoria for highway robbery. I knew him there and afterwards. He was very proud of his scholastic ability, and always defended himself when in trouble with the police, but his ability in that direction was questionable, as. in the highway robbery case he asked the principal witness a question that actually condemned him. Nevertheless, he ■boasted to me that in defending himself in Dunedin he addressed the jury for a -whole day, and in cross-examina-tion he beat the Crown Prosecutor at every point. A LADY IN BLACK.

I waa once walking with 'him in Gertrude Street, JFitaroy, wihen a iady in black with a 'baby in Iher arms asked to be directed to a certain time-payment furniture shop. The (baby looked at us and laughed, when Whairton frowned and walked rapidly away. On'rejoining him I indulged in a little chatf, and asked him if it was the " widder" or tihe baby he was afraid ef. He was very angry, tel'Lng me I was addressed and not Ihim. Wihile drinking with hiiin that afternoon, I irefeinred again chaffingly to the widow and her baby. H« spoke no more till we were again in ttie street, when he said, " Come into the gardens and sit on one of the seats. I nave something serious to cay to you." u« Mien asked me if I was ever in New. Zealand. I untruthfully (replied "Yes." "Ever m Dunedin?" Again i yaid " Yes." "How long ago?" "Oh, many'years ago." He sat silent for a short time, and then said: " Look here, J , you are the only -man I ever made any kind of confident of. You are a good scholar, though I could teadh you a lot. We are friends, I hope, but li you throw-off to me any more, especially in company, about widows and ba/bies, we shall quarol. You will readily understand this when I tell you the reason, which I intend to do, partly because I know you to be sufficient!v secretive and sensible not to talk —not that you could do me any harm if you did —'and partly because I believe you already know (which I did not) that I was once tried in Dunedin on a charge of killing a man, a woman, and a child, and, although innocent, the crime was nearly sheeted home to me. It "was my own ability that pulled me through. Had I employed a professional advocate T should not have been her© to-day talking to you." He then related the whole of the case, and added:— UNNECESSARY AND CRUEL. " Trying to fire the house was unnecessary, and killing .tihe baby was unnecessary and cruel. I respect no man's life," said Wharton, " for no man respects min.e. A lot of men I never injured have tried to put a rope round >my neck more than once. I ihate so-' eiety in. general, and one or two individuals in particular. If ever I visit New Zealand again there is a man there in the police force that I may have to square accounts with. The man who did that murder in Dunedin has, if anything, my sympathy, but it seems to me he need not have killed the child/ I was struck with his evident tone of regret for what he alleged another had done, and was about to speak, when he stopped me, and: " Now J don't ever ask me sudh a silly question as that." I asked, " What?" He replied, " You were about to ask me if I did tihat deed, and you know perfectly well that, guilty or innocent, that question could only be answered one way." He seemed quite (indifferent as to my opinion. On the contrary. I thought he rather courted my 'belief in his guilt, as that enhanced the brilliancy of his performance in getting off in spite of the damning evidence and the legal talent arrainged against him. " I was about to ask nothing of the kind," said I, " for you have already told me you

wore innocent." He replied, " Good, then, let that end the subject, and nevetrefer to it again except perhaps in your mind, when you can, if you like, remember that I said the killing of the child was unnecessary and cruel." We parted for the night, and I certainly did not relish the idea of lueetdng him again. WHARTON AND BUTLER.

His assertion that I was secretive is go far correct that I never should have "disclosed the fact that Wharton, in Brisbane, and Butler, in New Zealand, were one and the same man, but that I saw by the papers the New Zealand police were aware of it. It is perhaps as well for on© of that body that he has gone, for had he visited Dunedin again the life of a certain ex-detective wo<uld not have been worth a very expensive purchase. Butler spoke the truth When be said he respected no man's life, for he argued that man was of no more importance than a dog, for nature respected one no more than the other. " A volcanic eruption," said he, " kills mice and men with one hand." He brooded sometimes, and had deep fits of melancholy. "I am getting old,'' he once said, " and my end is approaching, but do not suppose I fear it, for I believe death to be total oblivion," and in that state and in that belief James Wharton, alias Butler, met his doom at the hands of the common hangman.