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The Leo Frank Case 1913 Part V Chapter 1 Crime First Discovered

14 Views· 26 Oct 2023
Leo Frank
Leo Frank
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In People & Blogs / Public Domain

⁣He was scheduled to complete the circumnavigation at 2:30 a.m. Saturday, April 27, 1913. It was cold on the second floor of the National Pencil Factory, so Newt warmed himself by rubbing the dusty lantern with his black palm. glass surface. The shadows in the corner danced and approached him.

In the light of the lamp the face of the grandiose chatterbox that had to be played once every 30 minutes was revealed. To put it simply, Newt walked around an abandoned factory building, punched the air, and then sat down again to rest. He also looked tired and needed rest. Yes, he admitted, a little wearily. Newt began to descend the stairs to the first floor when darkness engulfed him from behind, only the narrow passage lit by the stairs leading down. At that exact moment and place, other people wouldn't have been stunned, but they would have felt a shiver run down their spine.

He was in the same place every night for months, witnessing the same shadows flickering on the bare walls and the ghostly marks left by the lantern on the stairs. But he was tired tonight, even though Mr. Frank, the factory manager, had given him most of the afternoon off.

He grumbled as he descended the stairs and began scanning the empty first floor with his flashlight. Nutri spent many lonely nights as I taught him the value of quiet conversation and adequate sleep. At 3 o'clock this is the reason of the gentleman.

Frank muttered to himself. “Frank said today was a holiday and he wanted to get rid of his fur. His first instructions were to go out and have fun and not come back until 6 p.m. This is a great time. I spent the night at home instead of exploring the city. I'm not sure of Mr. Frank's current condition, but when I called him to come with Mr. Frank, he stood there rubbing his hands and seemed nervous to me today.

Gant became concerned that the man had stolen something, so he went to get the shoes. Black people don't steal anything. At least not black people. At this point, Newt completed a brief inspection of the first floor. There were no sad, busy workers, no men holding pencils, no factory girls bent over machines as if it were daylight. The cars sat shiny and still.

For the Night's Watch, that meant simple safety, and Newt still loved them for their silence. He had to climb another floor to finish it. The basement is the second darkest level. Always stupid, always bad. Above the hole he opened the hatch. A faint light appeared.

Gas flow burned as usual but decreased. "That's pretty low." Newt grumbled. It's an order, an order. Newt was pregnant. And the purchase of this light was always made under the direction of Mr. Frank. He looked up the stairs in the bright light. He climbed each step, his feet firmly planted, his lamp swinging its light, piercing the pale cellar light with a faint glow, adding darkness and stillness. His feet touched the bottom step.

He was lying in the basement. The lamp radiated yellow light in every corner. That's great. All is well. But wait until there is a pile of sawdust near the cauldron. Newt took three steps forward and stood still.

The pile of clothes was lit by a burning light that Newt had never seen before. His pulse quickened. He could hear the heartbeat. He tried his best to hear other sounds with his ears. But outside the sleeping city all was as quiet as the grave. The only sound was his beating heart. As the silence fell upon him and engulfed him, the black man experienced for the first time in his life a fatal and painful fear.

He tried to break it. He swallowed something in his throat and tried to smile. Joe, he muttered loudly, trying to scare me with a holiday joke. In the silence, his voice was harsh and irritated. "Just a little joke," he grumbled. After a while, his voice became quiet.

After stepping forward and tapping the flashlight again, Muttley staggered back. In a pack, she ran up the stairs, crying as the sight froze her blood like a dam of ice. It wasn't a joke, it wasn't a seasonal joke, it was just something next to the kettle. No blood was added to the joke. The joke had no hair, piercing eyes and a bruised and scarred face.

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