MURDERERS AT LARGE

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19847, 23 May 1927, Page 2

MURDERERS AT LARGE

DASH FROM PRISON WABDERS’ FIERCE STRUGGLE Six condemned murderers who fought like madmen for their freedom at Joliet Prison, and a strong force of warders and policemen who, despite attacks with tear-gas bombs and other weapons, could not prevent three of the men from escaping in a car which they forced a warder to drive, at the point of a rifle through crowded streets — these are characters in a drama of criminal life packed with astounding thrills—even for Chicago. The prisoners, three Americans and three Mexicans, were to have been hanged, but a respite had been granted for possible reconsideration of the penalty. They were members of a band which escaped from Stateville Prison last May, after killing a warder. Prisoner Secures Gun. Here, step by step, is the swiftmoving drama of their terrific struggle for freedom:— In a cell at Joliet Prison stands an amazed warder, gazing at the shining barrel of a revolver—and the man behind the gun is a prisoner, tense and desperate. As the warder’s hands go up, the prisoner snaps out a command. “You’ll release the other five now,’’ he says, “or you’re a dead man.” i The warder knows he must obey, and, with the revolver pressing into the small of his back, he goes along a corridor and unlocks five cell doors. From behind each emerges, silently, another prisoner. Swiftly the six men steal through the prison, and one unsuspecting warder after another with a leap and a scuffle, is overcome —and the cell doors slam again, this time on the prison officials. Other warders, wakened by the noise, rush to the scene; but by now the six men are out in the prison I grounds, dispersing in the darkness, and by the time the pursuing warders appear three have clambered over the prison wall. Now police and warders are surrounding the three murderers who remain in the prison precincts. As each prisoner finds himself enclosed by overwhelming numbers he fights like a tiger, tearing himself from the grasp of his attackers over and over again. Soon each of the prisoners is bruised and bleeding, and six warders are too badly injured to continue the struggle.

There is only one thing to do. The warders and police arm themselves with tear-gas bombs; these are thrown —and not long after throe helpless, choking prisoners lie prone on the ground, to be carried back to their cells once more. Motor-car’s Frantic Rajm. Meanwhile, in Chicago, scores of police and detectives are scouring the streets for the three men who have escaped. In the prison another hue and cry has gone up—a warder has completely disappeared. Down a brilliantly lighted main street comes a motor-car. The man who bends over the wheel wears the uniform of a Joliet Prison warder, and behind him sit the three murderers, one of them with the warder’s rifle on his knee. Suddenly the man at the wheel increases the speed of the car.

“Slow down!” yell the murderers, as the car hurtles round a corner and pedestrians scatter in all directions. But the warder drives faster and faster, to attract the attention of the police. He has .succeeded, for before the escaped men can force him to slow down officers are rushing out into the road to stop the car. Tfie rifle, levelled through a window of the car by one of the murderers, cracks out twice in rapid succession, and two policemen who are trying to stop the car fell to the ground. Again and again the rifle speaks, and the packed street is in a panic. Then the car disappears into a side street and is lost. *