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It was my duty at one time to interview a young man. Flora's mental counterpart, on trial for the murder of a policeman. The little fellow had been part of a hold-up party, in which he was either the cat's paw for cleverer members of the group, or had misunderstood directions, or was too drunk to know what he was doing -- or any one of several explanations, none of which could he give himself. He was gentle and good-natured, simple and entirely vague as to the whole affair, for which he was later electrocuted. Even the bailiff, inclined to be severe over the murder of an officer on duty, looked at the mild little murderer with some misgivings.

"It seems hard that policemen must be at the mercy of stupid little fellows like David, and hard that the first notice anyone takes of David is to electrocute him," I remarked.

The bailiff peered at him in doubt. "Can I do anything for ya, Dave?" he inquired gently, but murmured in an aside, "He ain't got a chance. He shot him all right and before witnesses, and that gets the chair."

Then he puffed away down the corridor, shaking his head, while Dave smiled pleasantly, and remarked, "I'm off the booze, all right. Excuse my necktie." The policeman's widow, and Dave's widow, the policeman's orphans and Dave's orphans, the arrest, the trial, the chair -- all were there because David could not exercise the foresight and imagination which he did not possess, respect the law which he could not grasp, and think quickly in a new emergency when he could not think at all. His children will go through the same routine, and we all foresee it -- all but Dave. He meditates upon his necktie, and then is seen no more.

Of course, the real victims of such tragedies are the children. Many are the remedies that have been suggested -- none, perhaps, adequate. Certainly none has been adequately tried. Early discovery of morons is granted as desirable, but what then? Reduction of the number of their offspring is also regarded by most people as desirable. But by what means? Segregation? That means money from the taxpayers. Sterilization? That means fright, opposition, and general panic. No granting of marriage licenses? That means the elimination of something which the moron is only too ready to do without. Birth control? Illegal, or morons cannot understand it, or it is irreligious -- or what you will. Education of the feeble-minded for unskilled labor? Does that solve the problem of the delinquent tendencies of children reared by a moron mother? And so it goes. In the meantime they multiply. Today they compose from five to ten per cent of the population of the United States -- according to how many you include.

As Flora, Lucille and Chuck advance in age from twenty to forty, their escapades become less amusing, and even the most callous reporter does not consider them suitable for his pages. They are doing as well as they can, considering their training, their talents, their temptations, and the heavy burdens laid on their weak shoulders. But they and their pale babies are recognized as disasters. They are still subject to the same diseases and healed by the same means as we. Their children die from epidemics like flies, but pass the germs on to our children before they go. Their children see ours in automobiles, and steal them from us. Our girls must dress in fashion, and so must theirs, even though our boys pay the bills. They all gladly flock toward any frivolity or indecency which we commercialize, and the Greek chorus chants monotonously in the background, "The villainy you teach us, we will execute, and it shall go hard but we will better the instruction." It is a sombre chorus for such poor little actors as Chuck and Flora and their children. In the final tragedy, who are the villains and who the victims -- they or we?