In 1927, Charles Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic alone in a small aircraft - The Spirit Of St Louis - and became a hero to millions. Afterwards, journalists reported his every move, adoring admirers mobbed him in the streets, songs were written in his honour. The quiet young aviator found such intense adulation almost unbearable. Fortunately, one night at a dinner party, he met Anne Morrow - the equally shy daughter of a politician - and fell in love with her. Their romantic courtship and marriage delighted a nation struggling with the hardships of an economic depression. When the devoted couple flew together, exploring new air routes around the globe, an adoring public eagerly followed the travels of ‘Lucky Lindy’ and his bride.

By early 1932, Charles was working as a consultant to aircraft manufacturers, Anne was a published poet and they were living in a fine house in Hopewell, New Jersey. They had a child - twenty months old Charles jr - and seemed to be blessed with perfect lives. But, on the cold, rainy night of March 1st, their happy home was violated by an intruder. As the Lindberghs slept, the trespasser entered a second-floor nursery window with the aid of a home-made ladder; he snatched their baby and left behind a ransom note that demanded $50,000.

Fig. 1

The first ransom note.

The ladder - broken and suggesting that the kidnapper had fallen as he departed - was found nearby. As word of the crime spread, the media and crowds of curious onlookers descended on the scene; vital clues were literally trampled before the police could record them. The parents tried to avoid frightening the culprit; they didn’t openly co-operate with law enforcement officers and did their best to follow his instructions. Through newspaper statements and radio broadcasts, they agreed to pay the ransom.

Many people, rich and poor alike, offered rewards to potential witnesses. Even members of the criminal underworld were outraged by the abduction. Infamous gangsters aided the investigation; Al Capone promised $10,000 for the boy’s safe return.

More communications from the kidnapper followed. He tried to increase the ransom to $100,000, reassured the parents that the baby was well and pushed them (through hints that Charles jr might be ill and without medicines) to pay quickly. Although the Lindberghs made contact with the kidnapper (through an intermediary) and handed over $50,000, their child was not returned. His little body was found in a shallow grave less than two miles from home; he’d died on the night he was taken from his crib - it is unclear whether his death was accidental or deliberate.

Richard Bruno Hauptmann

The serial numbers of the ransom banknotes were recorded; they were “Gold Standard” notes which would soon be withdrawn from circulation. The police waited to see when and where the kidnapper would spend his loot. In the course of time notes began to appear - but it was not until September 1934 that the trail led to Richard Bruno Hauptmann; a carpenter who lived in the Bronx district of New York. A garage attendant noted down Hauptmann’s license plate number when he bought petrol with a Gold Standard note. Officers searched his house; a large amount of damning evidence was discovered.

One of the $20 bills was in his wallet; nearly $14,000 of the ransom money was hidden in his garage (along with illegal firearms). $5,000 was in a shoebox in his wife’s broom cupboard; the unlisted/unpublished telephone number of the Lindberghs’ intermediary was pencilled on the inside of the cupboard door. The timber of the kidnap ladder was matched by type, grain, toolmarks, knot- and nail-holes to the wooden floor of Hauptmann’s attic. The nails used to make the ladder came from a production run of just twenty boxes; Hauptmann had bought one of those boxes and used the nails around his house.

The suspect, a german immigrant who’d entered the USA illegally after escaping from prison in his native country, had a criminal record. He’d robbed two women at gunpoint and burgled the Mayor of Bernbruch’s house. Significantly, Hauptmann entered that building by climbing a ladder and opening a second floor window.

The Hand-Written Evidence

Comparisons of Hauptmann’s handwriting with the ransom demands produced conclusive proof that he’d written all of them. It was remarkably easy to show that all the notes were related - many of their folds, tears, rips and edges could be put together jigsaw-fashion. A supply of the Woolworth’s’ paper favoured by the kidnapper was in the Hauptmann home. Twelve eminent document analysts attested to Hauptmann’s guilt. His defence lawyers briefed many experts - the majority swiftly identified Hauptmann as the author and declined the case.

Only three analysts remained at the disposal of defence attorneys as the trial began - two were not called to the stand because they would have testified that Hauptmann wrote the ransom notes. The remaining “expert” was an amateur analyst who worked for a railway company when not dabbling at his hobby. In 1983, the handwriting evidence was re-investigated by the Journal of Forensic Sciences; modern document examiners confirmed that Hauptmann produced all the ransom notes.

Verdict And Re-Examination

Hauptmann claimed that the ransom money was left behind by a friend who’d since died; but it was shown that he’d been using the cash long before he professed to know of its existence. The day after the kidnapping he was limping. He quit his job on the day that the ransom was paid...and never sought another. The carpenter lavished nearly $32,000 on stock market investments, a car, a $400 radio, Zeiss binoculars, hunting trips, vacations and ringside seats at prize fights. During his spending spree, his wife continued to work long hours at a bakery; asked why she wasn’t told about his new-found wealth, Hauptmann replied that he didn’t want to excite her.

Hauptmann was executed at New Jersey State Prison on April 3rd 1936. He denied everything to the last; this stance inspired some people to cast doubt on his conviction. Many books, Internet sites and legal campaigns portray Hauptmann as a victim of misjustice - a simple family man who got a raw deal. What can Graphology add to the debate? Does his handwriting contain any clues which might help us to evaluate his guilt or innocence?

An Embittered Pretender

I am going to largely concentrate on two documents - a letter Hauptmann wrote to his stockbroker (Fig. 5) and a post card (Fig. 6) sent to the Lindberghs. I’ll take you step by step through my calculations and explain each trait sign in its proper perspective.

Let’s begin with the way that he organises his words, sentences and paragraphs. You’ll see straight away that his ability to logically and clearly arrange messages is not strong. His left margin meanders and words collide with the right margin - Hauptmann’s capacity to plan ahead was limited (though personal conceit probably made him think otherwise). His mostly all-connected style indicates that he was not an intuitive thinker; he was much more likely to make a plan and attempt to stick to it from start to finish, rather than adapt it ‘on the fly’ to changing circumstances. Weak on foresight and ill-suited to thinking on his feet, Hauptmann was never going to be a master criminal.

His lower zone (undeveloped/loopless) and fairly wide spacings between words suggest that he was not gregarious or socially-accomplished. Curved and hooked structures, plus narrow ‘e’s manifest his grasping nature...and make it clear that any generous inclinations were reserved for himself. His use of German words like “Mai” and “Mein” show that he was not totally at home in America. Ostentatiously embellished, tastelessly ornamented capital letters speak eloquently about an egotistical desire for status and respect. The inappropriately-used capitals on the post card echo this pretension. Hauptmann was a would-be dominant type, a man who wished to impress and stand head and shoulders above others - but it was an aspiration that foundered on his own inadequate talents and abilities. I believe that we don’t have to look far to discover why Hauptmann victimised the Lindberghs. Charles Lindbergh had everything that Hauptmann dreamed of - he was a self-made man who’d earned universal esteem - Hauptmann aimed to prove that he was just as good, maybe even better, than Lindbergh.

Note how some letters unconventionally conclude with heavily-pressured movements which dip below the baseline. This form of aggressive energy tends to be employed in unorthodox (often anti-social) ways. It’s a frequent factor in the handwritings of violent criminals; regular readers may remember seeing the same trait in the script of the murderer/kidnapper Michael Sams. The heightened/excessive depth of some strokes on the post card depict disturbing levels of ruthlessness and brutality.

Signs Of Alienation

In some of the ransom notes Hauptmann lapsed into a bizarre habit which also marked his everyday writing style - adding an extra ‘e’ at the ends of words. Forensic document examiners recognise this as a symptom of lexical agraphia (a condition which poses no difficulties in the subject’s ability to speak, listen or read, but which causes problems with the writing process). Graphologists associate this kind of sign with different forms of compulsive behaviour. Was Hauptmann a neurotic individual who attempted to cope with fears and phobias through repetitive/ritualised actions?

Hauptmann’s lawyers claimed that lots of other German immigrants wrote just like him. But a thousand German-Americans were tested without reproducing all the features present in both Hauptmann’s script and the ransom notes. He had a tendency to make up his own letters - a clue to his self-centred mental state. Graphologists who’ve worked with the penmanship of psychotic and delusional writers are very familiar with “One Man Alphabets” - in extreme cases those who exist in their own little worlds can produce letters recognisable only to themselves.

German handwriting styles were very angular in those days, but this factor softens and takes on a ‘skimming’ (lower profile) appearance when he feels the need to hide some aspect of himself. Hauptmann’s idiosyncratic letter-formations (and the ambiguities sprinkled throughout his documents) show him to be habitually untruthful and geared to viewing himself as being on the right side of every issue.

Guilty, As Charged

As we have seen, Forensic Document Analysis proved him, beyond any reasonable doubt, to be the originator of the kidnap notes. Its sister science Graphological Analysis can now provide insights into the reasons behind his actions. Hauptmann was a bitter malcontent; motivated by greed, jealousy and a desire to aggrandise himself, he abducted and killed Charles Lindbergh jr.

On several occasions, Hauptmann said that the handwriting examinations provided the strongest evidence against him. As he was taken to the electric chair, he was heard to mutter: “they were just pieces of paper”. Like many criminals before and since, he never suspected that his own penmanship would convict him.