A Brother's Bullet: Deputy Marshal Dies, and the Accused Killer Asks Only for a Match

Edward A. Minsch, the deputy United States marshal who was shot by his brother Frank at the corner of Pioneer Place and James Street Saturday afternoon, died at Providence Hospital yesterday morning at 12:45 o'clock, without having regained consciousness.

At 2 o'clock in the morning the condition of the patient was such that it was deemed impossible for him to live more than an hour. So tenacious was the hold on life, however, that hour after hour dragged by and the unconscious man still gave signs of life. As the day grew apace his temperature rose and his pulse ran up, the former reaching 144 and the latter at 9 o'clock. From that time on the margin of life steadily decreased until the end came.

Mrs. Minsch and her son Frank were at the bedside, having been constantly in attendance both night and day.

The remains were subsequently removed to Bonney Stewart's chapel, where they will remain until Coroner Horton has finished his investigation, and the beginning of a long and uncertain criminal process is fairly under way. The post-mortem examination will be held this morning at 9 o'clock and immediately followed by the inquest. By order of Mrs. Minsch, who returned to Tacoma this afternoon, the remains of her husband will be sent there this afternoon for interment.

Edward A. Minsch was a large and powerful man, well proportioned and apparently of erect carriage. He measured five feet eleven inches in his stocking feet and would weigh between 170 and 180 pounds. He wore a thin black mustache and his hair receded from his forehead, revealing a broad brow. His left eye was badly discolored, and on the outer edge, following a general course back toward the top of the ear, were the marks of powder burn, indicating clearly that the shot was from a close range. The dead man was two inches taller than his brother Frank, but not so broad across the shoulders. The latter weighs 185 pounds and gave his age yesterday as 32 years, instead of 38, as was stated at the time of his arrest. The mistake was made in taking what he intended as the year of his birth as his age.

Frank's disposition has manifested itself clearly since his incarceration in the city jail, for if he feels one atom of sorrow for his bloody deed he has not shown it by word, look or action.

Albert Minsch, the youngest of the three brothers, called at the police station yesterday afternoon at 1 o'clock and was taken by Capt. Bogle to the steel tank where Minsch is confined. The captain called the prisoner's name three times before he received any response. Then Minsch slowly arose from his steel couch, gave himself a shake and came up to the bars. Albert, with ill-concealed emotion, asked Frank how he was getting along. The latter simply replied: "Give me a match."

The desired article was handed him and he lit a cigarette and the fumes came through the bars. Albert turned his head away and broke into tears. This ended the interview between the brothers, but before going away Albert told Capt. Bogle that it might be advisable to give his brother a drink of liquor once in a while. He also corroborated the report that Frank is subject to fits. There was an old gentleman with Albert and when he heard Frank's odd, indifferent and irrelevant reply to a brotherly greeting he also broke down and left the jail. He seemed to take the sad tragedy much to heart and in speaking to Capt. Bogle said that if he had had any idea of Frank's intentions a few moments before the shooting he could have prevented it.

A Post-Intelligencer reporter visited the prisoner yesterday afternoon and, contrary to expectations, found him civil, although not communicative. He expressed himself as feeling unwell and restless from want of sleep, but declined to say anything about the quarrel with his brother. He admitted having taken several drinks Saturday, but denied that he was intoxicated when the shooting occurred.

"Are you subject to epileptic fits?" was asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I had one a short time ago in the eastern part of the state."

"Do you remember anything about the shooting Saturday afternoon?"

"Yes, all about it, but I will tell that on the stand. I don't want to say much because my friends have told me to keep still. One of them, a man I used to work for at Buckley, I believe is going to secure attorneys for me."

"Has there been a grudge on your part toward your brother of long standing?"

"No," was the emphatic reply.

"It is rumored that there is a woman, one whom your brother wanted you to leave alone, in this case."

"It is not so," replied Minsch, in a decisive manner.

"They say in Tacoma that you use morphine."

Minsch did not reply, but lit a cigarette, and then added, "I have the most trouble here in getting matches."

"I suppose you knew that your brother was dead," said the reporter as he left the cell.

"Some one told me he was either dead or dying. I don't remember which," replied Minsch; "but you are the first one that has told me positively."

He took the matter as cool as a cucumber and went on smoking.

Frank Minsch is the deputy constable who showed himself obnoxious to peaceful people living in the vicinity of Tenth and Fourteenth streets last Monday night. He had been intoxicated, and while guarding Judge Stanford's residence went so far out of his duty as to hold up respectable citizens on their way home and demand in an insolent manner what they were doing out late at night. Charles McMaster, the cigar dealer, and his brother-in-law, Samuel Hart, were two whom he met. The matter was reported to Officer Sam Corbet and he gave Minsch a lecture. Minsch denied in the presence of the man that he had started that he had been guilty of such an act. After the trouble Corbet says Minsch went to sleep on the beach at the corner of Madison and Eleventh streets.