Death of a Robber Baron Read Online Free PDF

her father, and me. So you should probably hear it.”
    â€œI sense as much. Please continue.”
    â€œBrenda was a bone of contention between Dennis Reilly and his wife, Monica, poor, illiterate Irish peasants who married in this country. They soon had different aspirations for their only child, Brenda. When she was eleven, her father, a clever but often unemployed man, insisted that she should go to work in a garment factory and bring money home. Herself a garment worker, Monica protested that their daughter needed an education to get a better job with more pay. Dennis also demanded that Monica give him her income. She refused, instead spending much of it on Brenda’s schoolbooks and tuition. Finally, Monica objected to him wasting money on drink in a neighborhood tavern.
    â€œOne day, while I was working at St. Barnabas Mission, a woman reported that the Reillys were fighting in their room. Could I put a stop to it? I knew them better than anyone else. So I said I’d try.
    â€œWith the blackjack in my bag, I ran to the tenement house, collecting a patrolman on the way. I left him waiting on the sidewalk. I said I’d call him if he were needed. The Reilly family lived on the top floor. As I was climbing the stairs to their room, I heard a girl scream. The door was ajar, and I stepped inside. Monica was lying on the floor, her face bruised and bleeding. Her husband appeared drunk and was viciously kicking her.
    â€œ ‘You sneaky cow!’ he bellowed. ‘Where’ve you hidden my money?’
    â€œBrenda was screaming at him and trying to pull him away. I shouted for him to stop. Instead, he threw his daughter across the room, sprawling. He pulled a knife from his pocket, cursed me by all the devils in hell, and charged.
    â€œI stepped aside. As he staggered by, I hit his head with my blackjack. He fell to the floor unconscious. I ran to an open window and called to the patrolman waiting in the street. Within minutes, Dennis was on his way to jail and his wife to a hospital, where she later died.”
    â€œWas their quarrel solely about money?” Prescott asked, as if he knew the answer.
    â€œNo,” Pamela replied hesitantly, “there was more. Before she died, Monica said that her daughter at eleven was tall and strong and quite pretty. Dennis sometimes touched and spoke to her indecently. Brenda had grown afraid of him.
    â€œOn the day of the fight, she had been home from school reading a book. Her father came from the neighborhood tavern in an ugly mood. He pulled the book from her hands, threw it out the window, and attacked her. She was fighting him off when Monica returned from work. Enraged, she seized a frying pan and hit her husband again and again. In the end, he rallied and beat her savagely.”
    Prescott shook his head. “Surely the devil was in that room. How is the girl? Any serious, lasting effects?”
    â€œPossibly,” Pamela replied. “At the time, she was stunned and shocked. I took temporary custody of her and moved her into a room in my home. A wise, kindly older servant took care of her. Thanks to the resilience of youth, Brenda’s physical and mental health has improved to nearly normal. I notice inner scars, chiefly deep hatred and fear of her father. She also has horrid, recurring nightmares.”
    â€œThat’s unfortunate, but I’m not surprised,” Prescott remarked. “Her father richly deserved his years in prison. Nonetheless, he resents that you helped put him there. In fact, how much were you involved?”
    â€œA great deal. With backing from St. Barnabas Mission, I insisted that the police conduct a serious investigation. At first, they wanted to treat it as merely a domestic dispute. But when Monica died, I protested that the beating had caused her death. I also persuaded neighbors to come forward and testify to Reilly’s bad character. Finally, the court convicted him of aggravated