DOC COULDN’T HEAL RIFT WITH COUSIN
Jealous wife, duel to the death in B’klyn park
The body had been lying on a barren stretch of cold ground overnight when a Brooklyn man taking an early Sunday stroll in the park spotted it from yards away and ran home to call the cops.
Detectives responding to the scene just inside Marine Park in the Flatlands area on the morning of May 24, 1931, found the dead man lying faceup, eyes open, with dried blood trailing from a bullet hole near his right ear. A huge circle of red stained his crisp white shirt, courtesy of a .32 slug to the chest.
There were bruises on his cheeks and his suit jacket was askew, a sign he had put up a fierce fight before the fatal shots were fired.
It was soon apparent this was no runof-the-mill homicide. The victim was Dr. Joseph T. Loughlin, 39, an esteemed Brooklyn physician who lived near Prospect Park a couple of miles away.
Robbery was ruled out as a motive. A wad of $200 in crisp bills was found in his pockets, along with a $100 bond. A gold watch was tucked in his vest.
Strangely, his pricey blue chinchilla coat was folded neatly on the ground near the body, alongside his derby hat, as if he’d patiently taken them off before whatever struggle had ensued with the killer.
A check of the Marine Park field turned up a couple of tantalizing clues. Cops found a hat nearby that might have belonged to the culprit, perhaps left behind in his desperation to flee the scene. There was also a trail of blood leading away from the park, indicating the killer had been injured in the scuffle.
Hours later, detectives assigned to break the bad news to the good doctor’s widow were handed the likely suspect on a platter.
A distraught Margaret Loughlin explained that her husband had left their house at 11 p.m. the night before with his cousin, a 29-year-old customs inspector named Howard Bridgetts.
The two men were inseparable, Mrs. Loughlin explained, but they’d had a huge argument that day that nearly led to fisticuffs. Bridgetts left in a huff but returned later that night and spoke to the doctor outside. The wife said she watched from a window as the two men piled into Loughlin’s Pierce-Arrow and drove away. She figured they left the house to iron out their differences so they wouldn’t upset the couple’s four young children.
The last thing she expected, the widow sputtered through heaving sobs, was that her husband would never come home again.
When asked the reason for the argument, Mrs. Loughlin went mum. She didn’t know, she told police.
Detectives eager to interrogate Bridgetts were convinced he was the killer when they turned up at his Brooklyn flat and saw he had vanished. The manhunt was on; the only thing missing was a motive. What would drive Bridgetts to gun down his best friend and leave his bullet-riddled body in an empty field?
The distinguished doc had a prosperous practice in Flatbush, was beloved by his patients and widely known for his kindness and dedication. He often provided free treatments to poor families and had even volunteered his own blood so that a gravely ill little girl could receive a transfusion that saved her life.
He was so liked and respected, in fact,
that his funeral a few days later was kept a secret out of fear that too many heartbroken patients would create a mob scene at the service. But as detectives dug into the case, a dark side emerged. A year before his death, Loughlin and several other Brooklyn physicians were convicted for the illegal use of liquor prescription blanks — during Prohibition, doctors often prescribed alcohol to soothe frayed nerves and other minor ailments, and Loughlin was fined $100 for trying to make a little extra cash on the side.
Could a money matter have pushed Bridgetts to murder his own cousin?
It was left to a family friend who’d witnessed their argument to fill in the blanks for cops. And it had nothing to do with money.
Loughlin was instead seething at
Bridgetts for his “babbling tongue,” said the friend, an attorney who’d been called to the house that day to broker a separation between the doctor and his wife. Bridgetts was in attendance as well.
Seems that despite his upstanding reputation, Loughlin had a roving eye and liked to go out at night to “attend parties” with his pal Bridgetts in tow, the lawyer told investigators. His extracurricular activities obviously didn’t sit well with Mrs. Loughlin — who had apparently gotten the lowdown about her husband from Bridgetts himself.
That, of course, didn’t sit too well with the doctor, who challenged Bridgetts to a fight right there in the parlor. Bridgetts, afraid of the much larger man, backed down but promised to return later.
The attorney corroborated Mrs. Loughlin’s account of the men driving away in the doctor’s car about 11 p.m., adding that it wasn’t to settle their differences amicably. Bridgetts challenged the doctor to a fight away from the house.
No one realized at the time that Bridgetts had apparently gone home to retrieve his revolver.
The front page of the Daily News on May 25, 1931, displayed a graphic photo of Loughlin’s bloodied body lying in a field surrounded by police, and the story described how his death was the result of a “duel” the doctor had so obviously and tragically lost.
Two days after the shooting, the manhunt was over. Bridgetts walked into the local stationhouse accompanied by his lawyer and surrendered to police. Sporting a makeshift sling on his left arm and wearing a blood-soaked suit from the night of
the murder, Bridgetts had been riding the subway and hiding in movie theaters, he said. Now he was ready to tell his side of the story. He insisted he never blabbed to Mrs. Loughlin about her husband’s nocturnal habits, but Loughlin didn’t believe him. Bridgetts then confessed to shooting the doctor, but only after his raging former friend took off his coat and hat, set the items on the ground and then went after Bridgetts.
He told police he pulled the gun in fear for his life — in the dark, he thought Loughlin had picked up a large rock and was about to pummel him with it.
He shot dead his cousin and friend in self-defense and out of a pure survival instinct, Bridgetts told detectives.
“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “We had been fighting with our fists. He raised both hands in the darkness. I thought he had a rock. We grappled and fell. He was on top.”
Bridgetts said he went for the gun but shot himself in the left arm as they struggled. He then fired off two more rounds in the darkness. “The third bullet struck him in the ear,” he said.
Bridgetts was charged with murder, but four months later he was allowed to plead guilty to manslaughter in the first degree, with the blessing of Mrs. Loughlin. The killer, after all, was a relative and a dear family friend — and godfather to the couple’s 2-year-old daughter.
Facing 20 years in prison, Bridgetts ended up serving only three.
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