The Bobby Franks murder case had suddenly heated to the boiling point and was beating out all other stories in competition for the public’s attention. The famous Clarence Darrow had taken over the defense of Leopold and Loeb. Assistant State’s Attorney Bert Cronson, one of the men who’d helped elicit the Midnight Confession from Beulah in April, had been assigned to the Franks case. He was considered the “ace” of the staff, better than McLaughlin or Woods or Harry Pritzker.Still, the “double divorcee,” as all of the papers constantly and salaciously called Belva, remained front-page news. Editors knew that the “stylish murderess,” with her gorgeous outfits and regal bearing, would provide pictures that no other story could match. Chicagoans still wanted to see and read about her.As expected, Belva dressed for court with care, determined to impress potential jurors as a woman of the upper classes, the kind of privileged, well-appointed lady who would naturally awe any ordinary man.
