THE MOUAT TRIAL – A SENSATION OF THE 1920s

Press, 18 September 1976, Page 11

THE MOUAT TRIAL - A SENSATION OF THE 1920s

Ask any St Martins old-timer what he remembers most vividly from the past, and he is bound to put the Mouat murder trial near the top of his list, writes GORDON OGILVIE. At the far left is a picture of the kind which would not be printed today—the accused, in full view, approaching the Magistrate’s Court to be charged. Walking with Mouat is Detective Eade.

Fifty years ago the Mouat affair was a sensation in Christchurch. and you can still hear excited arguments on the subject.

In 1925 St Martins had a distinctly rural atmosphere: and Beckford Street, off Wilsons Road, was a quiet by-way better known up till then for producing C. E. (Teddy) Low. the Rhodes Scholar. It was shortly to become the setting for one of the most dramatic police investigations our city has seen.

In a modest wooden bungalow near the > .1-

sons Road intersection lived Frederick and Ellen Mouat. They had been married 18 years, were childless. and were known to have ''ecn quarrelling a fair amount. On the ever.lug of February 20, 1925. they spent the evening at the house

of a neighbour and were seen about 10.30 p.m. to enter the front door of their home in Beckford Street. Ellen Mouat was never seen again, alive or dead.

After a few days Mrs Mouat’s relatives became anxious about her nonappearance. They were also dissatisfied with her husband’s explanation that she had left without reason, taking her jewellery and personal belongings with her. Some eight days after she first disappeared Frederick Mouat informed the police, who were naturally curious about his delay in seeking help. After they had interrogated him, Mouat himself disappeared during the night from the hotel in town where he was staying. The police now set in motion a large manhunt.

The first positive clue to Mouat’s whereabouts came a week later from a

workman at Queree’s Quarry, at the foot of Huntsbury Hill, who saw a dishevelled man asleep on the hillside just above the area where blasting was to take place. Mouat (as the man was shown to be) was wakened. He wandered off in the direction of Brightlings Brickworks just around the corner, on the site now occupied by the Parklands subdivision.

Workmen there, recognising Mouat from police descriptions, engaged the fugitive in conversation within a kiln until a police squad arrived.

“Good afternoon, Mr Mouat. Come on outside,” was Detective Eade’s historic greeting.

The prisoner turned sharply,, hesitated for a moment, and then with his head hung low and his arms limp at his sides, walked outside and surrendered himself.

“Cheer up, man.” remarked Eade, as he raised

the prisoner’s arms to search him. “Don’t look so down to it!’’ Frederick Mouat had even better reason to feel down to it when the police started assembling their evidence. The whole of his section was dug over and some 30 small bones were found, badly burnt.

Small traces of blood were found in the down pipe from his bath, and signs of recent burning in the sitting-room fire place and copper grate. Neighbours gave evidence of Mouat having washed numbers of blankets and sheets. A pawnbroker remembered Mouat trying to sell him jewellery so that he could make a trip to Africa. The police learned that nothing from Ellen Mouat’s wardrobe was missing. And if Mouat was as innocent as he claimed to be, why had he run for it? When the case came to

trial, it seemed that Arthur Donnelly, the Crown Prosecutor, had a watertight proposition; that after their return from their evening out, Mouat had murdered his wife, dismembered the body, burned the pieces and disposed of the bones in his back section. However, Mouat’s defence was in the hands of C. S. Thomas, near the beginning of a brilliant career as a criminal and civil lawyer which was to span some 40 years.

Charlie Thomas is one of two Christchurch lawvers (Sir Arthur Donnelly is the other) to whom the Law Society’s centennial history, “Portrait of a Profession,” pays particular attention.

His fine presence, dominating personality, splendid command of an audience, resonant voice, and forceful crossexamination technique made him a fine declamatory advocate.

He also did his homework very thoroughly, and here he often had the advantage of Donnelly, who tended to be less industrious — relying more on native wit.

The defence contended in a meticulous case that there were too many unexplained weaknesses in the Crown’s argument. Neighbours had heard no screams, sounds of struggling, or any noises such as must have been created by the cutting up of a body. It would have been impossible to burn a bodyin such small grates, anyway, without a great deal of smoke and smell — neither of which was reported by neighbours.

No implement had been found which Mouat could have used in cutting up the body. There was no evidence of unusual marks on the floor and tables to suggest that a dismemberment had taken place anywhere in the house.

Though pieces of burnt bone had certainly been found, experts could not give any idea as to their age, and Thomas suggested they might have dated from Maori times as Mouat's home was situated near the old Maori trail to the Rapaki track. Above all, there was no certain evidence that Ellen Mouat was even dead.

Charlie Thomas, on the last day of the trial, which took a week, was having lunch with some of his legal friends, including the Crown Prosecutor. when he remarked that he would give £5OO to charity r if during Donnelly's- final address Mrs Mouat stepped up from the back of the court saying: “Well gentlemen, here I am.” "Yes,” said Donnelly, “but what a mess she would look without all those bones.” The jury was unable to agree on its verdict. A new trial was

ordered and a verdict of manslaughter resulted, with a 17-year sentence.

Both the manslaughter verdict, and the tremendous length of sentence caused some reaction. However, Thomas did not dare appeal against the conviction lest it have disastrous results.

He had at least saved .Mouat’s life and Mouat was evidently satisfied with that.

It speaks sufficiently well for C. S. Thomas's standard of advocacy that none of his clients (and they were also to include in later years Boakes and Mayo) was ever hanged.

But the most outstanding of all his courtroom victories was almost certainly his defence of Mouat.

At the time of the trial Beckford Street residents got heartily tired of al! the inquisitive sightseers coming and going. One of the local lads amused himself by trans-

ferring the accused's house number to an empty residence further down on the other side of the road.

On his release from prison after serving a sentence — reduced for good behaviour, Frederick Mouat vanished as surely as his wife had done. He called at Thomas s office to collect some small carvings he had left for safekeeping during his prison term. Thomas was out at lunch, his staff issued the pieces to Mouat, and Mouat made no return visit.

Thomas had missed forever a chance to have a final word with his client In spite of Thomas’s brilliant defence and the jury’s ambiguous verdict, public feeling was that Mouat had murdered his wife all right, but had had enough time to dispose of the evidence before the police enquiry began.

Veteran St Martins residents have many inge-

nious explanations a

what Mouat may haw done with his wife’ “body.” But most favou the theory that he dis posed of it tn the Al dwins Road sewer, whici Mouat was working on a the time of the lady's dm appearance: or perhaps ii a Brightlings or Farnle (now Murphy Bros) brief kiln nearby. Charles Thomas, not in retirement at S Albans will not revea (quite properly) whethe he himself believe Mouat to be guilty o not. His job was to pre vide for his client th best possible defence, an in this task he succeede admirably. “Of al) the crimina trials in which I hav been involved,” M Thomas said, “1 conside Rex v. Mouat to be th most intriguing. 1 ar quite sure that the tru story is yet to be told.” Unfortunately, there t now little chance thi lingering doubts will ev4 be resolved.