-Excerpt from the Kensington Papers, approx. November 1926
[At the time that Jonah Kensington (Editor, Prospero Books) penned this missive, he had returned from a four month investigation into the L'Amour Affair. He documented his efforts at length, including the extensive steps to ensure that he was investigating the L'Amour Affair, not the Carlysle Expedition or any of the nefarious interests stirred up by the events of 1925.]
...While the court case itself was well documented, both in Africa and at home, my labors were focused on the aftermath. That said, the resolution of the trial was pivotal in setting the stage for the actress' final dramatic turn.
Much as the newspapers downplay it, one must remember that Miss L'Amour was not alone in the dock in the decrepit Nairobi courthouse. Though some of her compatriots escaped, fleeing to Australia and their own misadventure there, in court, she was one of three defendents, together with Declan Ryan, an Irish musician (and notorious alcoholic) and the drifter Corey Schwartz.
The drifter, having spent the least time associated with the group, and also evidently not possessed of sound mind, was subject to the most cursory of proceedings. He was summarily exiled from Kenya, on the expectation he would return to New York City and institutionalization. Had he access to wealth, this might have happened. Instead, he spent six months throwing himself on the mercies of many a sea captain, only to learn that that particular profession has very short shrift for mercy.
By the time he reached Tangiers, he was crippled by opium, insensate, and totally insane. He died there. While there was no formal death certificate or autopsy, it would appear that he succumbed to the ravages of syphilis. No doubt this was masked by his already tenuous grasp on reality.
I admit that I shed a tear for the man, and feel no shame for the admission, even if I am alone in so doing. I knew the man for well over a decade, back when he was an aspiring and curious folklorist. Though there was no way to know the ultimate results of so disastrous an encounter, it was I who introduced him to Jackson Elias. The pairing was fortuitous and profitable...for a while. Elias and I covered for Schwartz's collapsing psyche as long as we could. I think it fair to say that it was our intervention that ensured that his mental condition did not result in physical harm to himself or others, for all the good it did either man in the end.
Both L'Amour and the Irishman bore the full brunt of all the charges, spanning three continents. While I concede I was not there in person, the court transcripts suggest it was very much a drumhead trial, their guilty verdicts assured.
Mercy of a sort was apparent in the sentencing - maybe being the subject of international scrutiny chastened his honor from delivering the hangings he so eagerly sought. Instead, he provided both with life sentences including hard labor.
In accordance with Government Notice 184, this meant that Mr Ryan would be detained at First Class Prison Nairobi (its name, not a reflection on its quality), whereas Lily L'Amour would be resettled at First Class Prison Mombasa. While the Kenyan Government would firmly deny the accusation, this was tantamount to selling the actress into slavery, a nuance not missed by the defendants themselves.
From this point on, facts run light on the ground. There are many stories, however, and I beg the reader's indulgence in my choosing, perhaps, the most dramatic, and indeed, romantic, recounting.
After sentencing, the pair were left in a holding cell, pending transportation. It is important to remember at this juncture that the Irishman had been no friend to the Temperance Movement. Rather, his Bacchanalian efforts had been so vast that the enforced sobriety imposed on him by the court proceedings had utterly broken him. He sniveled and mewled, sweated incessantly, his skin broke out into rash-like red blotches, he was crippled by the shakes, and so forth. He was quite literally ruined by the drink, or at least, its absence.
In spite of this handicap, or possibly because of it, he hatched a desperate plan. In the small hours of the night, when guards returned to transport the convicts to their new homes. As soon as the lock's tumblers clicked open, the Irishman flung himself bodily at the door, weaponizing it. The guard on the other side was knocked clean out as the door smashed into his head. The pair of desperadoes made quick work of overpowering his surprised compatriot. They gathered up the guards' sidearms and fled the court, absconding in the same carriage intended to take them to their prisons.
Instead, they fled Nairobi into the surrounding scrublands and disappeared into the hinterlands, for a time. Only a time however; their international status was an assurance that Kenyan law enforcement would never give up on them.
Thus it was that a militia force encroached on a small shack in a quiet glade. They were not as quiet and subtle as they thought though. As they closed on the shack, the pair of criminals came charging out of the building, firearms blazing.
By all accounts, it was akin to the last stand of Butch Cassidy, or some other great outlaw of the West. The pair knew that escape was not an option, and sought only glory and a quick merciful death.
Again, to reiterate, this is only an unconfirmed tale told by the locals, one of many. The only thing we will ever know for sure was that neither Mr Ryan nor Miss L'Amour ever reached their intended prisons.
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