A father entrusts his business to the direction of a son whom he has trained to follow in his footsteps. A rich, notorious, client places a—to say the least—large order. Father and Son live in the same neighborhood, on friendly terms. Is it likely that Father, however inactive in the business, will remain totally ignorant of the Son's large order during several weeks when Son is executing it?
In the trial of Father William J. Burns, the great detective, and Son W. Sherman Burns, ignorance of the son's actions was the father's plea. Their detectives had been hired by Oilman Harry Ford Sinclair to shadow the jury chosen to try Sinclair for criminal conspiracy with Albert Bacon Fall, Harding Cabinet man. Father Burns said he knew nothing about it. When the Washington Herald (Hearst) discovered, and the Department of Justice announced, the shady work afoot (TIME, Nov. 14), it was news to Father Burns—said Father Burns.
At the beginning of the jury-tampering hearings, Father Burns had bellowed about "our" operations. "We were clearly within our rights . . ." he had said. And again, "I assure you the Burns agency is not seeking to help any guilty man out of trouble. My policy always has been to put the cards on the table . . . etc. etc." Now, with a jail sentence looming, Father Burns implied that such talk had been but the bellicose outburst of a parent trying to protect his son.
Last week—eleven weeks and 1,600,000 words of court record after the Burnses' services to Oilman Sinclair went on trial—Son Burns stood up in the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia to receive his sentence. Justice Siddons asked if he had anything further to say.
"Yes, your Honor," said Son Burns, "I would ask mercy for my father . . . I must say I feel that a great injustice has been done my father."
Justice Siddons eyed the young man, then gazed out a window. . . . Filial loyalty? . . . Miscarried justice? . . . Justice Siddons fined the young man $1,000 and called the father.
Father Burns was pale and nervous now, fidgeting with his grey moustache. Without waiting to be asked, he burst out:
"Before my God I am innocent as a child unborn. I knew nothing about this thing until it was all over . . . !" The judge looked sharply at the great detective, who slumped back into his chair humiliated. The judge gazed out the window again, then made a long speech in a low voice. ". . . That he [Father Burns] knew of this surveillance I cannot doubt, and that he knew it from the time it began." The judge concluded: ". . . You are guilty of contempt of court. . . . Men of high character sometimes make mistakes. Your sentence is fifteen days in the Washington jail or asylum."
So William J. Burns, the great detective, was served as it had been his profession to serve others. As for Henry Mason Day, Oilman Sinclair's handsome henchman who hired the Burnses and conveyed to them the Sinclair orders, he received a four-month sentence. To Oilman Sinclair's personal court record was added a sentence of six months for being the big rat in the trap who had ordered the others to help him out.