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As Crane awaited his September trial, St. George Tucker spent his summer working on revisions to Virginia’s laws. Virginians had long agreed on the need to revise the state’s laws, especially criminal laws. England’s “bloody code” contained many capital crimes, and thinkers like Locke, Montesquieu, Beccaria, Blackstone, and in Virginia, Jefferson found such widespread use of the death penalty both unrepublican and counterproductive. But Jefferson’s reform bill, which relied heavily on Beccaria, failed in the 1780s, and in 1791 Virginia was still saddled with the Bloody Code. Although Judge Tucker agreed with the need to reform, he was less enamored with Jefferson’s proposed reforms, particularly its strict reliance and Beccaria and its abolition of pardons.
After Crane’s conviction, his father, neighbors, and many others, including three of his jurors, wrote letters to Virginia’s Governor and Council of State, requesting his pardon. Crane’s supporters employed three arguments. One, that the circumstances of the crime did not meet the requirements for murder and that the jury had intended for it to be manslaughter. Two, that Crane suffered from “lunatic fits,” which caused him to “lose his reason.” Third, they reminded the Governor and Council that Crane was from a “respectable” family, and that his execution would devastate, and perhaps kill, his parents.
Pardons had a long history in Virginia, and were an important part of Virginia’s legal system. They had many uses – correcting legal errors, fitting circumstances to the law, and procuring testimony from co-conspirators. But the Governor denied Crane’s pardon, and the district court – with a new judge on circuit this time – sentenced Crane to death.
Virginia’s criminal cases began with an examination before the county justices of the peace. By 1791, Virginia’s county courts were not as well-regarded as they had been before the Revolution. The wealthy maintained their power in some ways, but many who had held justiceships during the colonial period now occupied their time with state offices. Nonetheless, when Crane appeared before the justices he would have seen many familiar faces. If he expected his family connections to save him, he was disappointed. After a two-day hearing – exceptionally long by Berkeley standards – the justices decided to hand Crane over for trial at the Winchester District Court.
After Abraham Vanhorn’s death, newspapers around the new Republic rushed to report the conflict. Vanhorn’s and Crane’s altercation was often described as a fight gone too far. Emerging information placed many people at the scene. Meanwhile, the Berkeley Sheriff imprisoned Crane – despite his genteel background – in the county jail to await an examination for murder by the county justices of the peace.
Fighting was common in Virginia, but homicide was rare. Virginia’s fights were brutal, but came with rules: particularly, no weapons. But witnesses claimed that Crane had stabbed Vanhorn. Other reports circulated, claiming that Crane had also maimed Vanhorn’s horses – after those horses broke into Crane’s fields. What was true? Was it a fight gone wrong, or something more sinister? That would be up to the courts to find out.
John Crane requested immediate trial, and was represented by Charles Lee, future Attorney General. After the trial, Crane’s jury, which was not permitted to eat or drink until they reached a verdict, had still not made a decision by the end of the second day. Although they had decided that Crane was guilty, they drew up a “special verdict,” finding the facts of Crane’s fight with Vanhorn and leaving the legal decision – murder or manslaughter -- to the court. The jurors who thought Crane only guilty of manslaughter were convinced the verdict outlined their own perspective, but attorney Charles Lee was concerned by the verdict’s contents, and asked Tucker to allow him to address the jury, suggesting ways the verdict might be modified. Tucker agreed at first, then instructed Lee to stop; a frustrated Lee accused Tucker of bloodthirstiness.
Tucker took Lee’s accusation of bloodthirstiness personally. They corresponded and Lee only partly softened his words. His words stung because fairness and integrity was essential to the work of a judge. At this moment, Virginia’s judges remaking their role from wielders of arbitrary discretion to guardians of republican government. Tucker had been a key part of this remaking – the judge had advocated for judicial review since 1782 in the Case of the Prisoners (Commonwealth v. Caton) and would pronounce judicial review to be the law of Virginia shortly after Crane’s case. Judges in Virginia were thinking hard about what it meant to be a judge in a republic, and the role of written constitutions, common law precedent, and judicial interpretation. In the process, they were changing the idea of republican law from the Beccarian to a more complex hybrid of writing and tradition.
St. George Tucker convened a grand jury in John Crane’s case on September 1, 1791 – the opening day of the fall session of the Winchester District Court. The men on Crane’s grand jury came from a variety of backgrounds, but all exercised substantial power in post-Revolutionary Virginia. Some had been Revolutionary heroes, others came from patrician Virginia roots. They had served in a variety of capacities in courts and government, including serving as sheriffs and justices of the peace. Although Virginia’s new court reforms had created state district courts and had, in some ways, reduced the importance of the county courts, in the Valley these courts had put power back in the hands of the types of wealthy, powerful men who had wielded it during the colonial period. Current county justices and sheriffs also frequently participated in district court activities, demonstrating that county and state power densely overlapped.
After deliberation, the grand jury indicted John Crane, and also – surprisingly – identified him as a “yeoman,” despite his elite background, demonstrating the fluidity and complexity of class in post-Revolutionary Virginia.
The chapter begins with a biographical introduction to St. George Tucker. Tucker had migrated from Bermuda to the United States in search of legal education, studied under George Wythe, then coordinated an illegal shipping venture during the Revolution. He married wealthy widow Frances Bland Randolph, mother of John Randolph “of Roanoke,” and became integrated into Virginia’s leading families. By 1791, Tucker’s political, legal, and economic connections had propelled him to prominence; he was the professor of law at William and Mary, a General Court judge, and part of the effort to revise Virginia’s laws. But the hard schedule made him weary, as he adapted to what he saw as the economic reality of post-war Virginia.
John Crane was executed, as his family, friends, and community looked on. Was this a triumph or a tragedy for the legal system? It depended on whom one asked. Men like Isaac Merchant, who had testified against Crane, had not requested his pardon – they may have seen Crane’s execution as justice, justice that defied Crane’s high connections. But Crane’s family may have seen it as a tragedy, as the execution of their loved one who was not responsible for his “lunatic” actions. But triumph or tragedy, the case reveals many the complex dynamics of law reform in post-Revolutionary Virginia, and Virginians’ changing ideas about what it meant to have law in a “republic.” Moreover, Crane’s case also highlights the fragility of class and familial privilege during this era. Soon, new reforms would create the category of second degree murder, which would have saved John Crane from death. For John Crane, Virginia may have been both too republican, and not republican enough.
Tucker sent Crane’s case to the General Court; there John Crane’s family retained John Marshall. In 1791, Marshall was a leading member of Virginia’s Bar, and had experience with the state’s frequent special verdicts. Special verdicts were increasingly taking on new uses in post-Revolutionary Virginia. They allowed parties, juries, and judges to isolate issues of law for decision by the court – especially important in this era, where so much of Virginia’s law was in doubt because of the transition from colony to independent state. Did British laws apply? Special verdicts frequently isolated such issues, and addressed technical flaws in indictments and specialized legal questions. Also, parties and counsel often distrusted the abilities of Virginia’s juries and preferred that judges decide their cases. These verdicts gave judges greater power, which America’s revolutionaries had dreaded, but also helped to create legal uniformity, something they desired.
Crane’s own verdict highlighted the definitions of murder and manslaughter. Eventually, with two judges dissenting, the General Court decided that Crane was guilty of murder.
On July 4, 1791, the fifteenth anniversary of American Independence, John Crane, a descendant of prominent Virginian families, killed his neighbor's harvest worker. Murder in the Shenandoah traces the story of this early murder case as it entangled powerful Virginians and addressed the question that everyone in the state was heatedly debating: what would it mean to have equality before the law - and a world where 'law is king'? By retelling the story of the case, called Commonwealth v. Crane, through the eyes of its witnesses, families, fighters, victims, judges, and juries, Jessica K. Lowe reveals how revolutionary debates about justice gripped the new nation, transforming ideas about law, punishment, and popular government.