SHE MURDERED HER DAUGHTER-IN-LAW - Dr. Alice Lindsay Wynekoop

Dr. Alice Lindsay Wynekoop

A continuing theme throughout the stories in this blog is that you can't tell much about a person's life by looking at their tombstone.  This is never more evident then when you look at this tombstone in Chicago's historic Rosehill Cemetery:

It's a beautiful tombstone under one of Rosehill's many rambling old shade trees. Those buried under it must have been Christians because their tombstone has a large cross on it.  You can see that both Frank and Alice Wynekoop were medical doctors, and you can figure that Frank and Walker Wynekoop were probably their sons.  One died very young and the other died in his 40s.  It just looks like a fine old tombstone for one of Chicago's fine old families.  You would never guess by looking at this tombstone, that Dr. Alice Lindsay Wynekoop chloroformed and then shot her daughter-in-law in a cold and calculating manner and then freely admitted it. Here's how the New York Daily News told the story:

A Chicago undertaker summoned to a physician’s office took one look at a corpse on an exam table and diagnosed what should have been clear to the doctor.

“This is murder,” he said. He picked up the phone and dialed police.

It was the curtain-raising scene on Nov. 21, 1933, to one of the strangest cases from the American true crime canon.

The dead woman was Rheta Gardner Wynekoop, 22, who had left her family in Indianapolis at age 18 to marry Earle Wynekoop, scion of a Chicago medical family.

Earle’s father, Dr. Frank Wynekoop, had died in 1929.

His mother, Alice, a graduate of the Northwestern University Women’s Medical School, was a pioneering female physician. She was a prominent suffragette who advocated for women and children.

Stern and bony with long braided hair, she practiced medicine in a basement office in a forbidding, 16-room brick mansion on Chicago’s West Side.

It was there that the undertaker found Rheta Wynekoop dead, clad in stockings and a slip gathered at her waist. A single bullet had pierced her back. The killer left the .32-caliber revolver beside the body.

When police arrived, Dr. Wynekoop suggested that Rheta might have been killed by a robber. But she also admitted that the gun was hers.

Earle Wynekoop, who was on a train trip to the Grand Canyon, was flagged down in Kansas City and informed he was a widower.  

Before we look at the circumstances surrounding the murder of Rheta Wynekoop, let's see what we can find out about the Wynekoop family, and especially her mother-in-law/slayer.

Note:  In researching the Lindsay family, there was no consistency in the spelling of their last name.  Sometimes it was "Lindsay" and sometimes it was "Lindsey."  I will use "Lindsay" no matter how the original document spells the last name.

Alice Lois Lindsay was born February 1, 1871 in Onarga, Illinois to Benjamin Franklin (called "Frank") Lindsay (1838-1901)

Benjamin Franklin Lindsay

and Catherine Frances (called "Frannie"), nee Wiswell (1846-1918). 

Catherine Frances Wiswell

Frank Lindsay was a farmer by trade.  Frank and Frannie Lindsay had seven children: Ira Mason Lindsay (1867-1938), James Franklin Lindsay (1868-1869), Alice Lois Lindsay/Mrs. Francis Eldridge Wynekoop (1871-1955), Ellis Lindsay (1873-1949), Blanche Lindsay/Mrs. Harvey Edgerton Wood (1876-1968), Mabel Lindsay/Mrs. George Cassium Fairclo (1878-1961), and Edward Eugene Lindsay (1884-1939).

Alice was ill through much of her childhood and forced to stay in bed for days at a time. She was anemic and suffered on and off for several years from tuberculosis and malaria. Alice used to tell the story of "her father measuring huge doses of powdered quinine on the end of a knife, with one such dose being taken by her three times daily." Because of Alice's poor health, she did not receive formal schooling until the age of nine. Thanks to her grandmother Boyd, Alice entered Del Rey School able to read. However, she was unable to spell, write or do math work. 

The 1880 US Census finds the Lindsay family living on the farm in Onarga, Illinois.  The family consisted of:  Frank Lindsey (42 years old), wife Fannie P. (34), Ira M. (13), Allie (9), Ellis (7), Blanchie (4), and Mabel (2).   The children were either at school or working on the farm.  Frank listed his occupation as "Farmer," Ira "works on farm," and Allie "Attending School".  They also had a Boarder, 28 year old Solomon Lindell who also "works on farm."  

In 1885, at the age of fourteen, Alice registered at a co-educational boarding school in Onarga. Here she was considered brilliant, though temperamental, and an exceptional student in mathematics and chemistry. She graduated from the school at the age of eighteen, then returned home to live with her parents until the age of 21. As a child, she displayed a strong will. A psychiatrist once said of her, "She is the strong willed New England type." Despite threats by her father to order her from home, she joined the Episcopal Church and said of religion, "it is the reality of life".

The 1890 US Census for this area is, of course, lost, but we do know that in 1893, Alice enrolled at Northwestern University Women's Medical School. It is said that she decided to become a doctor due to the ill health she suffered as a child. She once called medicine, "the greatest profession in the world." During her senior year at Northwestern, Alice began teaching at the school. She was an instructor of anatomy, then served as chief demonstrator in the dissecting room, and finally clinical assistant to D.D.R. Brower, Specialist in Nervous and Mental Diseases. 

Alice Lindsay graduated from the Northwestern University Women’s Medical School in 1895.  In 1896, she served an internship in the Women and Children's Hospital. The following year she traveled to Denver, Colorado to receive medical treatment for returning tuberculosis, staying until the early summer of 1899.

One friend described her during this period as "Of decided beauty and charm, her head covered by masses of wonderful titian hair that curled about her face, Miss Lindsay lit up and made beautiful everything about her, even her clothes."   

While she was in medical school, Lois Lindsay met Franklin Eldridge Wynekoop (1866-1929), also a physician in general practice.

Dr. Franklin Eldridge Wynekoop

Franklin Eldridge Wynekoop was born December 13, 1866 in Wolcott, Indiana, to William Garrett Wynekoop (1835-1913) and Helen Margaret, nee Haynes (1845-1929).  Like Lois Lindsay's father, William Wynekoop was a farmer by trade.  William and Helen Wynekoop had nine children:  Dr. Franklin Eldridge Wynekoop (1866-1929), Loretta Ellen (Or Estella) Wynekoop/Mrs. Christian Felz (1868-1937), Harvey Edward Wynekoop (1869-1931), Dr. Charles Ira Wynekoop (1872-1946), Carrie Clyde Wynekoop/Mrs. Otto Basye (1875-1948), Florence Victoria Wynekoop/Mrs. Seth Wicks (1876-1968), Chester Haynes Wynekoop (1878-1878), Gilbert Haven Wynekoop (1879-1956), and Willard Walter Wynekoop (1881-1910).

On April 17, 1900, Dr. Lois Lindsey married Dr. Frank Wynekoop in her home town of Onarga, Illinois.  The bride was 29, the groom was 33. 

The 1900 US Census finds the newlyweds renting a house at 1563 W. Monroe Street in Chicago. (Now 3350 W. Monroe).

3350 W. Monroe, Chicago

The family consisted of:  F. Eldridge Wynekoop (33 years old), wife Alice L. (32), sister Carrie C. Wynekoop (25), and servant Anna Olson (28).  Both F.E. and Alice reported that hey had been married less than one year, and Alice said she had not given birth to any children.  Both reported that they were "Physicians," and all listed could read and write.  They rented their house and it was not a farm.

The Drs. Wynekoop had five children plus one adopted daughter.  Their natural born children are:  Frank Lindsay Wynekoop (1902-1907), Walker William Wynekoop (1903-1948), James Earle Wynekoop (1905-2000), and Dr. Catherine Frances Wynekoop/Mrs. Willard Dobson (1908-2000).  Their adopted daughter is Mary Louise Wynekoop (1909-1933).

Alice Lindsay Wynekoop's father, Benjamin Franklin Lindsay died June 24, 1901 at the age of sixty-three.  He was buried in the Onarga Cemetery in Onaga, Illinois:

 

Frank Lindsay Wynekoop, the firstborn son of Alice and Frank Wynekoop died on April 6, 1907 at the age of five after a bout of appendicitis.  He was buried in the family plot at Rosehill Cemetery:

 

The 1910 US Census reports that the Wynekoop family was living at 3406 W. Adams Street in Chicago.  This is incorrect.  In 1904 the Wynekoops moved into a sixteen room stone house they had built at 3406 W. Monroe (not Adams) in Chicago.  The addresses were only one block apart - the census taker must have gotten confused when writing the addresses on the census form.  I verified the 3406 W. Monroe address with the Chicago Directory.  

3406 W. Monroe Chicago

The family now consisted of:  Frank L. (43 years old), wife Alice L. (39), children Walker (6), James (4), Kathryn (2), and Mary (1 1/12) plus maid Alma Behrns (36), and boarders Clara (25) and Edith (36) Loofborrow.  Frank and Alice were "General Practice Physicians," and Walker was in school.  Alice reported that she and Frank had been married ten years.  She also said she had given birth to five children, and that four were still alive in 1910.

Alice Lindsay Wynekoop's mother, Catherine Frances Wiswell Lindsay died January 26, 1918 of apoplexy.  She was seventy-one years old.  Here is a clipping from the Champaign (IL) Daily News of January 29, 1918:

She was buried with her husband in the Onarga Cemetery in Onarga, Illinois:

The 1920 US Census shows the Wynekoop family still living at 3406 Monroe Street in Chicago.  The family consisted of:  Frank (52 years old), wife Lindsay (48), sons Walker (16) and Earle (14), and daughters Catherine (11), and Mary Louise (9).  Also living with the Wynekoops was housekeeper Jennie Rubel (44), and boarders Alice (34), and Elizabeth (7/12) Evans.  Frank and Alice reported that they were P"Physicians in Private Practice."  Their four children were in school.  Everyone at 3406 Monroe could read, write and speak English except little Elizabeth Evans.

Dr Frank Eldridge Wynekoop died suddenly in his home on January 2, 1929.  He was sixty-two years old.  Here are his Obituary and Death Notice from the Chicago Tribune of January 3, 1929:

He was buried next to his son Frank in the family plot at Rosehill Cemetery:

After her husband's death, Dr. Alice Wynekoop carried on with her practice. She was on staff at Cook County Hospital in Chicago where her speciality was children's surgery.  She was a member of the  Women's City Club, and others; she did charity work, most of it for children, in hospitals and clinics. She founded a sorority for the purpose of aiding women medical students in need of financial assistance. She maintained her office in her home, in a basement suite built for that purpose.  

In 1928, Frank and Alice Wynekoop's youngest son James Earle Wynekoop (called "Earle") met Rheta Gardner, on a visit to Indianapolis, Indiana, where she was one of the entertainers at a concert. After his return to Chicago, he started a correspondence with her.

Scarcely a year later, Earle persuaded Rheta to come to Chicago, and asked her to marry him. In spite of the fact that Rheta was eighteen years old, Dr. Alice Wynekoop, Earle's mother, insisted that the young couple obtain the consent of Rheta's father.  It was given, somewhat grudgingly, and Mr. Gardner even attended the wedding.

Earle Wynekoop married Rheta Gardner (1910-1933) on August 31, 1929 in Sycamore, Illinois.  The groom was twenty-four years old; the bride was nineteen.  

James Earle Wynekoop

Rheta Gardner Wynekoop

Rheta Gretchen Gardner was born September 6, 1910 in Indianapolis, Indiana.  Her parents were Burdine Hugh Gardner (1884-1967) and Eula Maud Wade (1891-1927).  Rheta had one sibling, Burdine Hugh Gardner, Jr. (1916-1971).  Rheta's father started his career with Pillsbury Flour Company then ultimately started his own bakery supply company.  Rheta Gardner was an accomplished violinist. 

The marriage of the two very young people was the occasion for a family party. But Rheta refused to spend her wedding night in the old mansion on Monroe Street. After a night in a hotel the young couple left for a honeymoon.

    

It must be remembered that Earle was not earning his own living and certainly was unable to support a wife. The only solution was for Earle and Rheta to live with Dr. Alice Wynekoop in the house which she and her husband had built more than twenty-five years before. During the honeymoon therefore, Dr. Alice redecorated and refurnished a suite of rooms on the second floor to be ready for the young newlyweds.

Even after all the preparations made by the family, from every indication it appears that Rheta was not a happy bride.  Her biggest complaint was that Earle was away from home most of the time. Rumors were that Earle was interested in other women.   

But life went on as it tends to do and the Census Taker for the 1930 US Census came to the Wynekoop house on April 11, 1930.  The Wynekoops were still living in the house at 3406 W. Monroe in Chicago.  The family consisted of:  Alice L. Wynekoop (59 years old), son Earle (24), daughter-in-law Rheta (19), daughters Catherine (21), and Mary (21), and boarders A.L. (82) and Enid (50) Hennessey.  Alice said she owned her home and it was worth $25,000.00 ($480,000.00 in today's funds).  Not surprisingly the family owned a radio.  For "Age at First Marriage" Alice said 29, Earle 23 and Rheta 18.  For "Occupation" Alice reported "Physician and Surgeon in Private Practice.  None of the other Wynekoops listed an occupation but A. L. Henessy was "Retired," and Enid Hennessy was a "Teacher in a Public School." 

There was happy news for the Wynekoop family when their daughter Catherine graduated from Rush Medical School on August 29, 1930.  Here is the announcement from the Chicago Tribune of August 31, 1930:

The good news for the Wynekoop family continued - in the summer of 1933, Earle Wynekoop finally found a job at the Chicago World's Fair.  Although happy that he was finally gainfully employed, his drinking and the friends he made were of great concern to his mother, and of course, to his unhappy young wife.

   

For Rheta was unhappy. What wonder - a young wife, practically deserted by her handsome husband, and left to the companionship of a devoted but aging mother-in-law. Their conversations must have been highly educational, but very dull for young Rheta. 

That brings us to the fateful day of November 21, 1933.  The events of that day were covered extensively by Chicago newspapers as well as other papers around the country.  I will summarize what took place based on numerous sources.

At about ten P.M. on the evening of November 21st, Arthur R. March, a police officer in charge of Squad Car 15, received a radio call directing his car to go to 3406 West Monroe Street.  He later reported that "We went directly there and were met at the front door by a lady who told us to come inside. The lady was Miss Enid Hennessey, a school teacher and roomer with the Wynekoops.  When we got inside we met Dr. Wynekoop. She was seated in a chair in the library. Mr. Ahearn, an undertaker, was also there. We asked what happened. Dr. Wynekoop said "Something terrible has happened; come on downstairs and I will show you." We went downstairs.

Officer March continued, "When we got down, the basement was lighted and there was a light inside the operating room. Mr. Ahearn, myself, Officer Walter Kelly, Officer Wm. Tyrrell and Miss Hennessey came with us. In the operating room we observed the body of the girl lying on an operating table."The body, later identified as Rheta Gardner Wynekoop, was lying partially clothed on her left side on the examination table with a bullet wound in her back. 

Evidence gathered by police that evening included: powder burns around the bullet wound, no evidence of a struggle, care given to covering her body with a blanket, a .32 caliber revolver near her head wrapped in gauze and wiped clean of finger prints, an open desk drawer and a written notice of a 4:30 p.m. telegram delivery attempt.

In addition, detectives found a bottle of chloroform and a "passionately termed love note" dated the previous Sunday night (November 19) written by Rheta to Earle, who was not present.  The note read, "Precious: I'm choked. You are gone—you have called me up—and after ten minutes or so I called and called. No answer. Maybe you are sleeping. You need to be, but I want to hear your voice again tonight. I would give anything I have to spend an hour in real talk with you tonight—and I can not—good night."  Where was Earle Wynekoop?  More on that later. 

Here is what happened related by Dr. Wynekoop.  She said that she left the house on an errand and that she returned about 5:30 p.m. She said Rheta was home at that time.  Later Dr. Wynekoop said she and boarder Enid Hennessy had supper together. Rheta did not join them for supper and Dr. Wynekoop said when she was still missing a few hours later she became concerned and began searching the house.  She finally finding her daughter-in-law's body on the table in her surgery. 

Dr. Wynekoop immediately phoned two of her children, Catherine and Walker, and then summoned the undertaker, who realized two hours later that Wynekoop had failed to notify the police and did so himself.  Dr. Wynekoop later apologized for failing to notify police first.   Police took Dr. Wynekoop to the Fillmore Police Station along with the members of her family who were present.  All in custody, including Dr. Wynekoop, were released around midnight and police were stationed outside the Wynekoop home.

That evening detectives ruled out the possibility of suicide because "Nobody, not even Houdini, could have shot himself in the manner this girl was shot."  It seemed more plausible to detectives that there had been a break-in by a "drug fiend," especially since other break-ins had allegedly occurred at her home.  Contributing to the break-in theory was the story given by Dr. Wynekoop to the police that no one was at home at the time of Rheta's death.

Authorities immediately launched a search for Earle Wynekoop, who was said to be on his way to the Grand Canyon to take pictures. This story was corroborated by Stanley Young, a companion on the trip, who ultimately provided the alibi that eliminated Earle as a suspect.  However, law enforcement in Kansas City had already been notified to apprehend Earle when he arrived there.  

Dr. Wynekoop was back at the Fillmore police station by 9:30 a.m. on Wednesday for the coroner's inquest, which was held at the mortuary. 

Dr. Wynkoop testifying at the Inquest

Several witnesses were heard, including Wynekoop, who provided general information about the house, Rheta, and Rheta's marriage to Earle. She stated that she had not seen Rheta alive since 2:00 p.m. the day before, when she left on an errand. When questioned about any life insurance policies on Rheta, Wynekoop denied knowing anything, except that Rheta had been turned down by several companies because she was underweight.  Wynekoop stated, also, that she loved Rheta "as much as she loved Earle, her son" and that "Earle and Rheta were very, very much in love—so much so that I often said jokingly it couldn't last."  This was contradicted by the testimony of Rheta's father, Burdine Gardner.  He said his daughter had been unhappy in the marriage.

Rheta's father, Burdine Gardner

Officers Sam Peterson and Walter Kelley next described the position of Rheta's body on the table and confirmed the physical impossibility of her placing the gun about 18 inches away from her head where it was found. They stated that Dr. Wynekoop had contradicted herself in the story-telling, first saying she had not missed Rheta until finding the body and later saying she found it after calling the neighbor, Vera Duncan.  Duncan gave details of her 3:00 p.m. encounter with Rheta, as well as Wynekoop's phone call to her around 7:00 p.m. to inquire if she had seen Rheta.  Enid Hennessey, the boarder, testified that "Earle and Rheta were a devoted couple. There was no discord of any kind."  She defended the decision not to call the police because "we were all so nearly collapsed that we didn't know what we were doing."  It was pointed out to her that they were apparently oriented well enough to call family members and the undertaker.  After these witnesses, the inquest was ended abruptly when the coroner announced that he had received additional information that would be relevant to further deliberations.

Other discoveries on Wednesday included a report from officials of New York Life Company that on November 14, less than two weeks prior to Rheta's death, Wynekoop had, in fact, purchased a $5,000 double indemnity life insurance policy on Rheta, of which Wynekoop herself was the beneficiary.  Wynekoop explained the purchase in terms of a "kindly ruse" to convince Rheta, who worried about her health, that she was healthy, because she had passed the insurance company's exam.  A second explanation was that she considered Rheta a child, and she had policies on each of her own.  An additional double indemnity policy for $1,000, taken out November 2 and benefiting Earle and Catherine, was discovered the following day.  Captain John Stege, the officer in charge of the case, learned that the doctor, despite having received a $75,000 inheritance from her deceased husband and having an annual income of $8,000 per year, was down to $26 in her bank account.  She had a mortgage on which she was delinquent, and she owed back pay to her boarder Hennessey for housekeeping services.

People were asking where was Earle Wynekoop on the night of the murder and why was he away from home?  It was said Earle was on his way to the Grand Canyon on a color photography job, accompanied by a friend named Stanley. But there were rumors that Earle had been in Chicago not more than a day before the crime.

Earle Wynekoop was a tall, handsome brunet. He was taken into custody - after his arrival by train from Kansas City - along with an attractive young girl, whom he had met while employed at the World's Fair.  She had known him as Michael Wynekoop and he had told her that he was unmarried. She was released, however, and vanishes forever from the story.

Earle stated that he had started west for Arizona some time before his wife's murder. He was cooperative in giving newspaper interviews. He gave as his opinion that Rheta had been murdered by a moron. He added other and even more interesting details regarding his married life.  The marriage, said Earle, was a failure. Rheta at one time had attempted to poison the family by putting iron filings and drugs in the food. She had tuberculosis, Earle added, and was mentally deranged.  He further boasted of having fifty girl friends he had courted listed in his date book, along with his assessment of the women's looks, financial status, and social value.

In interrogations on Thursday, Earle made several admissions to the police.  In addition to confirming the $5,000 and $1,000 insurance policy purchases, he admitted that his mother had instructed him two months before to change the beneficiary on a $10,000 policy he owned from Rheta to his sister and told him to keep her instructions to himself.  He admitted having had a secret meeting with his mother the Sunday before Rheta's death contrary to his mother's claim that she had not seen Earle in a week.  Wynekoop later explained that Earle was concerned that the neighbors would be judgmental about his lack of a regular job and inability to support Rheta financially and so he didn't want to be seen at the home where neighbors would conclude that his first trip out west was a failure.  Another admission was that he was a philanderer.  

Earle and Rheta, a professionally trained violinist, were married on August 31, 1929, after a whirlwind romance.  Wynekoop stated to investigators that Earle "lost all love and affection for Rheta within a month after he married her because she was anemic and sickly," "mentally inferior," and "mentally deranged."  Earle stated that they had drifted apart.

Police spent much of Thursday interviewing three of Earle's paramours, all of whom believed Earle had serious intentions in the relationships or were even engaged to him. One, Priscilla Wittl, testified that Wynekoop would have known about Earle's infidelities because Wittl phoned the house once and asked for "Mike," the alias Earle had provided Wittl, and Wynekoop called Earle to the phone.

In the meantime, while Earle was making wild and far from helpful statements to the press, Dr. Alice Wynekoop, aged sixty-three, frail, sensitive and with a serious heart condition, was being ruthlessly questioned for an almost uninterrupted period of twenty-four hours.

During those hours, so many people crowded around the "gloomy old mansion" on West Monroe Street that the police in charge asked for another squad to come and help keep order.  Burdine Gardner, Rheta's father, came from Indianapolis, and, dramatically, took his daughter's body home for burial. He had a few statements to make to the press, regarding the mansion on Monroe Street - (it was he who first described it as "gloomy and old-fashioned"); and regarding Dr. Alice - ("She struck me as a most peculiar person").

Dr. Wynekoop offered to take a lie-detector test but it was unsuccessful because of the elderly woman's blood pressure condition. 

But then Dr. Wynekoop's confessed.  Earle Wynekoop had been returned to Chicago by that time and was in custody.  According to reports Dr. Alice met Earle in the jail and he said to her, "For God's sake, mother, if you did this on account of the bond of love between us, go ahead and confess."  Dr. Alice then answered - grim-faced, according to the same report - "But Earle, I did not kill Rheta."  Earle, exhausted from a night of grilling, sobbed, "Mother, mother -" 

Just exactly how Dr. Wynekoop's confession was obtained is difficult to imagine.  It is safe to assume, that guilty or not guilty, Dr. Wynekoop was tired and worried beyond endurance at that time her confession was made. It has been said that Dr. Alice gave her confession after being told that Earle had confessed to the crime.  Here is her confession as reported at her trial:

"Rheta was concerned about her health and frequently weighed herself, usually stripping for the purpose.  On Tuesday, November 21, after luncheon at about one, she decided to go down to the Loop to purchase some sheet music that she had been wanting.  She was given money for this purpose and laid it on the table, deciding to weigh herself before dressing to go downtown.  I went to the office.  She was sitting on the table practically undressed, and suggested that the pain in her side was troubling her more than usual.  I remarked to her since it was a convenient interval . . . for an examination, we might just as well have it over.  She complained of considerable soreness, severe pain and tenderness.  She thought she would endure the examination better if she might have a little anesthetic. Chloroform was conveniently at hand, and a few drops were put on a sponge.  She was allowed to pour a little more on the sponge.  She breathed it very deeply.  She took several deep inhalations. I asked her if I was hurting her and she made no answer.  Inspection revealed that respiration had stopped.  Artificial respiration  for about twenty minutes gave no response.  Stethoscopic examination revealed no heart beat.  Turning the patient quickly on her side and examining posteriorly as well as anteriorly, there was no sign of life.  Wondering what method would ease the situation best to all and with the suggestion offered by the presence of a loaded revolver, further injury being impossible, with great difficulty one cartridge was exploded at a distance of some half dozen inches from the patient. The scene was so overwhelming that no action was possible for a period of several hours."

Complicating matters even further, after being told that his mother had confessed, Earle declared that in fact he, and not his mother, had killed his wife. 

Dr. Wynekoop with her son Earle

Overnight, Earle, who had been booked on a charge of murder, also submitted to a lie detector test and more intense questioning.  In the morning, he confessed that he was the killer.  He told the detectives that he was with Rheta when she was sitting on the examination table.  He said, "She lost her balance and fell."  Then he picked her up, poured some chloroform in her mouth, and held his hand over her mouth.  After she lost consciousness, he shot her.  Earle's "pack of lies" was refuted by his traveling companion, however, and subsequently Earle admitted he was "fooling" to protect his mother from the electric chair.  He proceeded to state that his mother might have a motive for killing Rheta, because she was aware of his affairs and his unhappy marriage.  Earle and his mother were then placed in the same room where Earle encouraged his mother to admit her guilt. Wynekoop responded, "I know all the evidence points against me but I didn't kill her." Earle wept as he answered, "Yes, the evidence does point to you… And you had a motive." Dr. Alice then stated that if Earle loved her he should keep his mouth shut. But the damage had been done.

When the Inquest was reconvened, it was reported that more than 300 persons crowded into the inquest room at the county morgue, designed to seat but 100, and the crowd overflowed into the halls and the yard. Automobiles were packed hub to hub…" as the inquest reconvened on Friday afternoon.  Before the hearing began, Dr. Wynekoop was observed chatting casually with reporters, family, and friends with the "unruffled poise of a social leader greeting her friends who have dropped in for a pot of tea" and "allowing herself to be introduced to 'murder fans.'"  In the hearing, the state's attorney presented the bloody sheet and pillow, evidence that Rheta was alive at the time of the shooting, not dead as stated by Wynekoop.  Wynekoop said in the presence of the jury that she had signed the confession voluntarily.  After twenty minutes of deliberation, the jury found that Wynekoop had fired the shot that killed Rheta and ruled that she be held for a hearing before the Grand Jury on a charge of murder.

When Earle was released, Dr. Wynekoop pleaded to be released as well because, she said, she needed to arrange for Rheta's funeral.  Police pointed out that Rheta's family had already departed with Rheta's remains and planned a funeral in Indianapolis.  Wynekoop insisted that a service for Rheta would be held in Chicago, as well.  (Note:  To this day, Rheta Gardner Wynekoop rests in an unmarked grave next to her mother in Sec: 56, Lot 440 of Indianapolis' Crown Point Cemetery.  Her father and his second wife are buried in the same cemetery (with a grave marker) but not near Rheta.)  

The following Monday, November 27, Earle Wynekoop was taken into custody once again and held at the Cook County jail on a charge of accessory before the fact of the murder of his wife.  In the meantime, Dr. Wynekoop had become "seriously ill" and was treated in the hospital ward for a chronic bronchial cough and high blood pressure.  By the end of the year, her health had improved enough, however, that she could take nourishment and read her Bible. She predicted, however, that hardening of her arteries would kill her before the start of the trial and stated that "death would not be unwelcome."

Investigation and gathering of evidence for the case continued. Among facts being sought was the exact cause of Rheta's death—whether she was killed by the chloroform or the bullet. Pursuit of the information led to the exhumation of Rheta's remains on Monday, November 27, because physicians believed the original autopsy had been "bungled." They did not plan to make the results public.

Dr. Alice Wynekoop's first trial for murder began on January 4, 1934.  Various postponements took place and the trial actually started on January 11, 1934.  On the first day of trial and out of the sight of potential jurors, Wynekoop, veiled and dressed mostly in black, was transported from the jail to within about 30 feet of her seat in a wheelchair and then with support walked to her chair the rest of the way in accordance with a ruling of the judge that demonstrations of her frailty should not be permitted to impact jurors and their deliberations.

On Jan. 15, 1934, the state, represented by Assistant State's Attorney Dougherty, began the presentation of its evidence. As the hearing proceeded Dr. Wynekoop suffered five heart attacks, but the climax came as she collapsed after Dr. Hoffman's testimony. Dr. Hoffman had testified concerning the scene in the Fillmore street station when Dr. Alice made the statement which she later signed.

"Did you have any conversations with her after that?" Assistant State's Attorney Dougherty asked.

"I asked her why she did it," Dr. Hoffman said in a low, vibrant voice. "Her answer was, 'I did it to save the poor dear.'"

Dr. Wynekoop's collapse resulted in a mistrial. 

By February 19, 1934 Dr. Wynekoop's health had improved to the point where the second trial could begin.  

The second trial lasted two weeks and finally went to the jury Tuesday March 6, 1934.  Seasoned court watchers said that based on their own experience the jury would be out for a considerable time. They were wrong.  A guilty verdict was returned at 7:50 p.m. after just 36 minutes and two ballots.  They said it took 10 minutes to determine her guilt and an additional 26 to determine the sentence. 

The jury specified a term of 25 years in prison.  Two jurors had initially voted for the electric chair and a third chose life because "Dr. Wynekoop would probably welcome death."  This rationale moved the other two jurors to choose life, as well. The verdict came fifteen weeks, almost to the minute, after Wynekoop stated she had found the body of her daughter-in-law.

Observers stated that Wynekoop registered no emotion as the verdict was delivered. She turned to Catherine and Walker, reassured them of her innocence, and told them to "go home… and sleep."  Of all directly concerned with the outcome in the courtroom, she seemed least affected.  The jail physician was on stand-by, however. The prosecuting attorney stated that the jurors were "a sensible hard boiled jury, of whom we ought to have more",  and that "I know in my heart that she is guilty. But nevertheless I feel sorry for her." Reactions among spectators were mixed, with those closest to her saying that the jury had ruled unjustly.  Physicians stated that she was likely to succumb to her heart condition before she could be incarcerated.  Burdine Gardner, Rheta's father, said, "Twenty-five years—yes, that is justice."

Dr. Alice Wynekoop's license to practice medicine was suspended  October 11, 1934.

In January 1935 Wynekoop made her appeal to the Illinois Supreme Court, requesting a rehearing.  The petition was denied on February 12.  Two months later Wynekoop made an appeal to the United States Supreme Court for a review of her case, which she based on her allegation that the admission she had made should not have been allowed because it was made under duress. The higher court affirmed the judgment of the trial court.

She was incarcerated for fourteen years at the Oakdale Reformatory for Women in Dwight, Illinois, where in a later news article on the prison, she was described as "the matriarch."  She was "a tired, sick, old woman, who did a great deal of knitting for the soldiers during the war."

She was released on December 29, 1947 for good behavior. After a brief hospitalization, she was moved to Burnside Rest Home in Chicago, where she lived anonymously and died at the age of 84 on July 4, 1955.  She is buried in Rosehill Cemetery under a tombstone that bears her name despite rumors that her daughter had her buried under the name Alice Lois Lindsay at Mount Hope Cemetery in Chicago.  Since Rosehill does not have a crematory, it is more likely that she was cremated at Mount Hope and buried at Rosehill.

May Alice Lindsay Wynekoop rest in peace,

The rest of the story:

Dr. Catherine Wynekoop was a successful physician, associated with Cook County and other Chicago area hospitals.  She was married and ultimately divorced from Willard Dobson.  She died May 11, 2000 at the age of ninety-one.  Her interment site is unknown.

Walker Wynekoop, the businessman, stayed on in business and brought up his family, despite the shadow on the family name.  He died on October 24, 1948 at the age of 44.  He is buried in the Wynekoop family plot at Rosehill.  

Earle Wynekoop changed his legal name to James Earle Lindsay to try to escape some of the notoriety of the Wynekoop name.  He married his second wife Mary Ita Cinnamond (1918-2008) in 1943.  He died March 28, 2000 at the age of ninety-four.  His obituary said he had been an aerospace engineer for forty years.  He is buried in the Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Orange, California. 

Believe me, I have given you only the "Readers Digest Condensed Version" of the tales of the Wynekoop family.  I am surprised that a book has never been written about them, although the internet will lead you to numerous articles at such sites as Wikipedia, Murderpedia and True Detective Mysteries Magazine.  The articles carry such lurid titles as "The Inside Story of Chicago's Weird Wynekoop Mystery," "The Amazing Mystery of the Wynekoop Mansion," and my personal favorite "Murder O'clock - Dr Alice Wynekoop."  There is even one by someone named Chris Wynekoop who I assume is related.