Edward Hickman couldn’t sleep. The other prisoners were still taunting him. He was genuinely worried about facing the gallows. He was hoping to receive a life sentence instead of being executed.
Hickman planned to present an insanity defense in order to be spared from the hangman’s noose, shrewdly concocting a plan the same way he had tried to create and execute the crime that placed him in this situation. He had little quality time to think about it, though, as the catcalls from other prisoners distracted and stressed him out.
While his fellow prisoners were indeed incarcerated for their own crimes, most of them quite ugly in and of themselves, they still banded together and considered Hickman an even greater level of criminal. The act of murdering and dismembering an innocent twelve-year-old girl for the paltry sum of $1,500 was considered to be well beyond the parameters of even the worst crimes committed by the other prisoners. Hickman was a monster to the general public, and this characterization extended well into the sordid world that dwelled behind bars.
By 4:00 p.m. on Saturday, Christmas Eve, Hickman was depleted of energy. He fell onto his cot and slept soundly—so soundly, in fact, that he remained completely still with only the faintest indication of breath. The prison guards would periodically check on him to see if he was still breathing. Hickman was still sound asleep an hour later when representatives from the Los Angeles Police Department arrived to take him back to California.
While the Los Angeles police waited, a Pendleton, Oregon, officer unlocked Edward Hickman’s cell and found him asleep on the lower bunk. Hickman was awakened and brought outside of his cell to face the Los Angeles lawmen. Suddenly, Hickman went into hysterics. His body jerked and flailed about as he began screaming Marion’s name. He suddenly threw himself onto the floor and began kicking his feet, continuing to scream the murdered child’s name. Hickman was restrained and returned to his cell. The Los Angeles police decided to come back later when he was in a more settled state.
During the night, Hickman made two rather foolish attempts at suicide. He began with a headfirst dive from his top bunk onto the floor. For that, he got a headache and a lump on his head but nothing more. Next, he borrowed a handkerchief and tied one end around his neck and the other to the bars. He fell to the floor with his full weight and was choking when a guard came in and cut him down.
It was difficult to determine if these were actual attempts at suicide or part of Hickman’s plan to elude the hangman’s noose by presenting himself as insane. Some felt these acts were simply part of a series of events designed to build more evidence that pointed to his insanity. The events were documented and did make the papers, and thus, if Hickman was indeed trying to call attention to behavior that could help an insanity defense, his actions were successful. There was a certain perverse irony to Hickman attempting suicide by strangulation in order to avoid being hanged.
The Los Angeles police returned on Christmas morning. Chief of Detectives Herman Cline addressed Hickman directly, indicating that they were going to take him back to Los Angeles. Acknowledging the publicity the case had been getting in all forms of existing media, Cline told Hickman about the movie cameramen that were going to take his picture for their newsreels. Cline pointed out to Hickman that it was up to him as to how he would be presented in these photos and films. Hickman could walk out like a man, or he could once again break down and be seen on camera acting in that manner. It must have been a bit of a conundrum for Hickman. He could use the publicity to appear insane in newsreels across the country. But he decided to instead go out like a man. Still plotting, still calculating, he appeared cool and collected as he left the Pendleton jail for the bus that would take him to the train station. Hickman was handcuffed to his two guards. His left hand was cuffed to Dick Lucas and his right to Harry Raymond. Nobody could shoot Hickman down without also getting both officers. He was safe from the crowd.
On arriving at the train station, Hickman looked at the 500 spectators who showed up to watch him leave the bus and board the train. The sea of angry, vindictive faces shouting threats was representative of how most people felt toward him. Hickman realized this as he studied the vigilant crowd, who would like to have ripped him to pieces if not for the fact that he was heavily guarded by law enforcement. The police realized that some of the onlookers were likely armed.
During the six-hour train ride, Cline bombarded Hickman with questions. Hickman broke down, admitting that it was he who murdered and dismembered Marion Parker. There was nobody named Andrew Cramer. He had no accomplices at all. He had acted alone. Hickman spent four hours relating the story in detail to Cline. He further stated that he planned to plead guilty and use an insanity defense. He therefore wanted the judge to be fully aware of every detail of the story. Hickman agreed to write a full and complete statement. He spent much of the train ride relating just what he would include in the statement. Cline told Hickman that they were interested in a judge being given full details. He encouraged Hickman to tell everything clearly and to include every detail.
Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles, detectives continued their search of Hickman’s apartment at the Bellevue Arms and discovered enough clues to indicate that Marion was indeed killed there despite what Cline had believed earlier. And back in Oregon, Tom Gurdane and Buck Lieuallen basked in the spotlight for having captured Hickman. When it came to the reward money, however, they tried to be diplomatic. They stated that they did not want the money of individuals. But they saw no reason why they should not take what was offered by the Los Angeles banks and some of the organizations. That, they believed, was legitimate reward money, legitimately earned.
While Gurdane and Lieuallen seemed the obvious choices for the reward, there were several who claimed a piece of the nearly $100,000 on Hickman’s capture, even those with the most marginal contact. Los Angeles Mayor George Cryer appointed a committee of thirteen civic leaders to discuss how the reward money should be distributed.
The train arrived in Portland at 6:10 p.m. but without Hickman. The officers, realizing there would be a crowd, stopped about five miles east at Montavilla, where Hickman was brought to the Portland jail by police car. The 2,000 people who showed up at the Portland station did not see the infamous kidnapper.
After a four-hour wait, Hickman boarded a train headed for Los Angeles. It was then that he began his written statement with the intention of offering every graphic detail about his crime.