Medford mail tribune., May 05, 1957, Image 44

you don't believe truth
is sometimes stranger than fiction,
read this amazing story.
of the
Case
INCREDIBLE
ALIBI
BY WILLIAM T. BRANNON
I red j anson had worked as a clerk at the
National Guard Armory in Chicago for more than
two years. He was a willing worker, perhaps a
little more intelligent than the average. His boss
had always regarded him as dependable until
Friday, Jan. 30, 1953.
That morning, Fred didn't come to work. The
boss telephoned the lodging house where Fred
lived and talked to the landlady. She . reported
Fred who didn't think the prospect was funny!
They drove on and parked near the Dutch Mill
Tavern. Three of the men went inside while the
fourth stayed in the car to watch Fred. They didn't
wait long; soon the trio was back; one with his
pockets stuffed with currency. Another said he
had "a bucketful of change." The loot totaled
more than $400.
The car sped out of Rockf ord and finally stopped
money order for a payee in Columbus had been
purchased that morning.
This seemed to substantiate Fred's story, and
two FBI agents were called in. For the third time,
Fred told his story. He described the men as of
average height and build; all spoke in Southern
accents. The main thing Fred remembered about
their clothing was that one wore an overcoat with
a garish plaid lining.
Fred's boss listened to his alibi for
missing work with growing skepticism:
that he wasn't in his room; she assumed he had
gone to work. The morning passed, but there was
no word from Fred.
Then, about 4 p. m., he walked into the armory.
His boss listened with growing skepticism as Fred
told his story:
As he was driving home from work the previous
evening, he had stopped for a red light. Suddenly,
the car door was jerked open and two men
scrambled into the front seat. They brandished
revolvers and commanded Fred to drive.
Several blocks south, Fred was ordered to stop
and get in the back seat. One of his captors took
the wheel while two newcomers, both with guns,
climbed in the rear, one on either side of Fred.
The car shot ahead, eventually turning onto a
highway leading northwest.
For more than two hours they rode, eventually
reaching the outskirts of Rockford, 111., 90 miles
from Chicago. They stopped a few minutes while
they made detailed plans for robbing a tavern,
using Fred's car for a getaway. If somebody got
the license number, it would be a good joke on
at a motel near Beloit, Wis. The four men rented
a cabin for the night.
They were up early the next morning, driving
back into Illinois. In Burlington, they stopped at
the post office and one of the robbers got out. He
said he had to mail a letter to Columbus, Ga.
He was back soon and the car rolled on to Chicago.
On Milwaukee Avenue, the men got out, turning
the car back to Fred. He then hurried to work
as soon as he could get there.
The boss, who had heard some wild alibis for
not coming to work, grew increasingly skeptical
as the tale unfolded. "Maybe you'd better tell this
to the police," he said.
Fred repeated the incredible story to Capt
Kyran Phelan at Chicago police headquarters.
Phelan, too, has heard some wild accounts, but
he knows from experience that truth is sometimes
stranger than anything a man can invent
He telephoned the Rockford police, who verified
that three men had robbed the Dutch Mill Tavern
the night before. Then Phelan called the post
master at Burlington. He reported that a $20
The Federal agents made notes and Fred was
excused. They started driving back to their office
when, from force of habit, they glanced in windows
along State Street. Suddenly they stopped at a
restaurant where four men sat at a table. From
a nearby phone, one of the agents called Capt.
Phelan, who sent reinforcements.
The four men, one from Arkansas, two from
Alabama, and one from Georgia, were identified
by Fred as the robbers. They confessed and were
held on Federal kidnaping charges. Convicted,
two drew four-year terms, and the other two, 12
year hitches in Federal prison.
Fred was congratulated by his boss, who learned
that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. But
Fred's story might have been viewed with skepti
cism for a long time had it not been for one of
those minor slips which so often trip up criminals:
When the four men entered the restaurant, they
had hung up their coats. One was hung so care
lessly that the loud plaid lining was visible through
the window to a passerby who, in this case, hap
pened to be an alert FBI agent.
14 Family Weekly. May 5. 1957