The Mammoth Book of Celebrity Murders (70 page)

On 22 June 1930, Anne gave birth to a son, Charles Lindbergh III, after his famous father. The public were desperate to see the new addition to the Lindbergh family, creating another media
circus for the new parents. He was one of the most photographed children in America; the public, it seemed, would buy any amount of newspapers to find out as much as possible about America’s
“golden couple” and their baby.

In contrast to most Americans at this time the Lindberghs were living the high life. Although the 1929 stock market crash had ruined many businesses and unemployment was stressfully high, they
continued to enjoy the spoils of their celebrity status. The Lindbergh household was run in military style with a small army of employees, including a butler, several cleaning staff, a cook, a
chauffeur and even a nanny for young Charlie. The Lindberghs spent their weeks split between Anne’s family home in New Jersey and their own home near Hopewell in the Sourland Mountains.

On Tuesday, 1 March 1932, they had chosen to stay on in Hopewell as Charlie was unwell. Even though he was poorly he was still put in his crib in the nursery at 7.30 p.m., following the normal
routine which meant that he would not to be disturbed until 10 p.m., at which time he would be instructed to use the toilet. His father was fastidious and strict, and the house staff followed his
word to the letter. His nurse placed the youngster in his cot at the prescribed time and then closed the three sets of window shutters which hung on the nursery’s windows, leaving one window
open a fraction to let the child have some fresh air. At 7.50 p.m. the nanny briefly checked on the young infant and reported that he was sound asleep, and that she had switched off the lights and
closed the door behind her.

At approximately 8.25 p.m. Lindbergh arrived at the house. Although he hadn’t seen his son since the previous day he would not break his own rule and disturb the boy after bedtime. Instead
he retired to the dining room to have supper with Anne, after which they moved into the living room to relax for the evening.

The baby’s nurse, Miss Betty Gow, returned to see to him at 10 p.m., as instructed. On entering the room she was struck by how cold it was and immediately closed the open window. Worried
that the temperature was now too low she decided to switch on the electric heater to take the chill off the room. While she stood over the heater warming her hands she realised that she
couldn’t hear the child breathing and immediately sensed that something was wrong. She looked towards where the sleeping infant should have been, only to find that the crib was empty.
Panicking, she raced downstairs to raise the alarm and breathlessly explained that the young child was gone. Lindbergh and his wife ran upstairs and found the crib empty; they raced from room to
room shouting out for young Charles Lindbergh before realizing that the boy wasn’t there – he had vanished. Lindbergh then instructed his butler, Ollie Whately, to telephone the local
police station in Hopewell. Whilst waiting for the police to arrive Lindbergh took control and insisted that his wife and household staff should leave everything untouched, especially in the
nursery. He then loaded his shotgun and went outside to see if he could find any sign of the kidnappers, for this is what they had now concluded, that the infant Lindbergh had become a victim of
their fame and fortune. Whilst he was busy outside his staff started another search of the house, looking through all of the rooms and cupboards, but their search was fruitless. Lindbergh
re-entered the house and returned to the nursery, desperate for some sign of his child’s whereabouts, at which point he found a previously unnoticed envelope sitting on the window sill, by
the closed but unlocked window. Rather than opening the envelope he thought it would be wiser to wait for the police, not wanting to risk losing any evidence which might be on it.

The police arrived in the form of police chief, Harry Wolfe, and his assistant Mr Williamson. Lindbergh was still in charge, just as he liked to be, in control of his own destiny but sadly no
longer that of his childs. He showed the officers the note but insisted that it be untouched until a fingerprint expert arrived. After he and the nanny had briefly explained the situation to the
officers, they decided that they should first make a thorough search of the grounds, in case the child, or whoever had taken him, were still in the vicinity. There were signs that a ladder had been
propped up beneath the nursery window – there were deep indents in the soil – and around the ladder marks were the footprints of a single person. Further searching revealed the
makeshift ladder only a short distance from the house, at the edge of a wood. On examination it was noted that its rungs were covered with mud. It appeared to come in three sections, with each
section fitting one inside the other, getting progressively narrower towards the top. Strangely, the ladder also displayed another unique design characteristic, the rungs were very far apart,
almost six inches deeper than a conventional ladder. The footprints were traced across the soft earth until they reached the perimeter of Lindbergh’s property, where they ended abruptly. At
the point where the footsteps stopped, tyre marks could be seen – the kidnappers had clearly made their escape in a vehicle.

The police and Lindbergh continued to search the grounds with torches until late into the night, meanwhile a small army of police were scouring the estate and checking all vehicle movements in
the area surrounding Hopewell. The envelope was dusted by fingerprint expert Frank Kelly, who examined it but could find no prints; he then opened it and dusted the note inside, but disappointingly
this also showed no fingerprints. With the note now opened they were at least able to say with some certainty what had happened to the young boy. The note contained a demand for $50,000, in
exchange for the safe return of the child.

The note read:

At the bottom right-hand corner of the sheet of paper was a drawing of two interlocking circles, each about an inch in diameter. The area where the circles intersected had been
coloured red and the remainder of the circles were coloured blue. Three small holes had been punched into the design.

Whilst Lindbergh and the police considered the ransom demand, other officers began dusting the nursery for fingerprints, but none were found, not even from the child’s nanny or parents.
Had the room been cleaned since the abduction? The police made no note of this unusual fact.

The press once more had a field day at the expense of the Lindberghs, and the day after the kidnapping their home was swamped by over 300 journalists and photographers. The staff of the
International News Photo Service had managed to set up two ambulances with developing equipment, obviously hoping the priority given to ambulances would enable them to get to New York with their
photos before their competitors. The public were keen to keep up with the case and it was reported that circulation rose by over 15 per cent throughout Lindbergh’s dreadful ordeal. Bizarrely,
no precautions were taken to preserve the site containing the footprints, consequently Lindbergh’s grounds were turned to mud, resulting in more loss of vital evidence. Although the press
were to become Lindbergh’s sole route of communication to the kidnappers, the police did not appear to worry that the enormous publicity surrounding the kidnapping had great potential to
cause panic among those involved, inadvertently putting the child in even greater danger.

Anne was in a dreadful state; she could do nothing more than stay at home and wait for news on the whereabouts of her poorly baby. When the search of the grounds yielded little in the way of
clues, Lindbergh’s only remaining option was to pay the ransom. But in an oversight by the kidnappers, the note gave no instructions regarding the method of communication, leaving the
newspapers as the only way of trying to get a message through to them.

The police now began to suspect that the kidnapping had been achieved with the help of one of Lindbergh’s many staff – an inside job. The whole situation seemed to have been achieved
too easily – the kidnappers had gained entrance to the grounds and were able to use a ladder to reach the first-floor window; one window had been left open whereas all the others had been
closed and locked. These facts proved of interest to the police but provided nothing in the way of substantial evidence. If they had not missed the significance of the complete lack of fingerprints
in the nursery then they might have been able to advance the case faster. Whoever cleaned the room after the kidnapping did so knowing they were likely to be removing evidence. Each staff member
was interviewed in turn and background checks were carried out, but the investigation made little progress.

A second ransom note was received on 4 March, in which Lindbergh was reprimanded for involving the police and as a result the kidnappers were increasing the ransom demand to $70,000. On
examination the note revealed the same symbols which had been on the the original ransom letter, a sure sign that the demand was from the same person or group.

When the time came to meet the kidnappers’ demands, Lindbergh’s friend, John Condon, offered to act as go-between saving his friend the ordeal of having to deal directly with his
son’s captors, a plan which the kidnappers agreed to. By now the kidnappers had obtained Condon’s telephone number in order to organize the exchange. Condon was asked to bring the money
to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx district of New York City; he described the kidnapper as having a German accent. When Condon arrived at the cemetery he explained to the kidnappers that he would
only hand over the money once he had seen the baby, a demand which they were unable to meet. They had arrived without proof that they were able to carry the deal through. After a brief discussion a
deal was struck whereby the kidnappers would bring the child’s sleep suit to prove that they had him, but they would not bring the child. With this the kidnappers said they would be in touch
with a new set of instructions and the two sides went their separate ways. To ensure the child’s safety Lindbergh had insisted that the police should not attempt an arrest or even a covert
tracking operation; he simply wanted his child back – justice would have to wait.

At the next meeting Condon arrived with ransom money, $70,000 in two parcels, one of $50,000 and the other of $20,000; the notes were not marked but the serial numbers had been recorded. The
rendezvous was another cemetery, St Raymond’s; this time Lindbergh drove the car, desperate to see his child at the earliest opportunity. When they arrived at the cemetery one of the
kidnappers called out, “Hey, Doctor. Over here! Over here.” Lindbergh waited in the car while Condon went ahead to conclude the deal. Having seen the child’s sleep suit Condon
handed over the money in exchange for a note, in which, the kidnappers assured him, would be the location at which the child could be found. With the money and note exchanged the kidnappers fled,
leaving Condon with nothing more than the piece of paper, on which were the instructions that the baby was on board a boat, tethered between Horseneck Beach and Gay Head, near Elizabeth Island. The
two men raced to the location, desperate to reach the boy, who they anticipated would now be on his own. After searching up and down the stretch of river, they were unable to find any boat, so it
appeared they had been tricked. Feeling desperate and empty the two men returned home, hoping that the kidnappers, having collected the ransom, would now release the child into a public place
unharmed; sadly no further communication was received and the boy’s remained unknown. On 12 May the child’s body was discovered just 4 miles from the Lindbergh estate. It was obvious
that he had been dead for some time. During the autopsy the skull was examined and four fracture lines were found, under which the doctor discovered a decomposed blood clot, concluding that the
cause of death was a blow to the head. It appeared that the infant could even have been murdered in his room, or possibly have been dropped while the kidnapper was carrying him down the ladder.
Lindbergh identified his son’s body and immediately ordered a cremation, which was carried out within the hour. He might have wanted to spare his wife the agony of seeing her dead baby, but
the swift disposal of his son’s body meant that there would be no more opportunities to carry out further tests, tests which might have provided clues to the murderer’s identity. The
rather quick cremation, denying many family members the opportunity to say goodbye, would, decades later, become a point of interest in one particular conspiracy theory.

The police investigation provided little in the way of comfort for the Lindberghs, as nothing emerged which gave them any hope of finding the kidnappers. As month after month passed with no
news, the Lindberghs began to believe that the murderous kidnappers had succeeded in their plan and had now fled, taking his money with them.

It wasn’t until 15 September 1934, some two years later, that the ransom money was used and became traceable, when the $10 gold certificate was used to buy petrol. The manager of the
petrol station was so surprised to receive the gold certificate, so rarely did he see one, that he made a note of the driver’s car number on the back of the bill. When questioned by police he
also recalled that the driver had spoken with a German accent. From the details that the garage manager was able to supply, the police were able to confirm that the owner of the vehicle was a
35-year-old German-born carpenter, Richard Hauptmann.

Hauptmann was an illegal immigrant who had been in the US since he was 23 years old, and was married to a German waitress, Anna Schoeffler. When the police searched his house they found more of
the Lindbergh ransom money hidden in the garage, but Hauptmann insisted that the money belonged to Isador Fisch, his business partner, who had returned to Germany the year before. Fisch had left a
shoebox with Hauptmann before departing, asking him to look after it. He also left owing him $7,000, money that Hauptmann had loaned to Fisch. After checks were made on the men’s backgrounds
a number of facts emerged – the police established that Fisch had been a buyer of “hot” money, but that he had died in March of that year. Hauptmann meanwhile had decided that he
was within his rights to spend some of the money Fisch had left with him. The police, however, were so convinced that Hauptmann was the kidnapper that they decided to carry out a more detailed
investigation of his house and activities. When officers climbed into Hauptmann’s attic they discovered that there were pieces of wood missing from the rafters, the same wood that had been
used to make the kidnap ladder; his voice was to be identified as the voice heard in the cemetery and his handwriting matched the writing on the ransom note. With such a broad range of supporting
evidence the police arrested Hauptmann, charging him with the kidnap and murder of Charles Lindbergh III.