Chapter 13
“North Dakota? Now come you guys always want to send people to North Dakota?”
Slavanki leaned in on Maher.
“South Dakota?”
“You heard the tape,” Maher countered. “Tia called it off.”
In fact, Tia had relented. After she ordered the execution, Uribe continued to beg his aunt – for more than an hour – not to kill Maher. When sobbing didn’t faze her, Uribe finally appealed to her sense of survival. Indeed, Tia did possessed the keen instincts of a predatory animal. If she sniffed danger in the air, she moved off. And so, the emotion rung out him, Uribe changed the trust of his argument.
URIBE: You can’t do this, Tia! IT will only bring the DEA down on us!
A long silence.
MARIA: You promise me that you sever all ties with him, that you never speak to him again.
URIBE: I will Tia. I will. I promise.
MARIA: If you see him on the street, you go the other way.
URIBE: Yes, Tia.
MARIA: And if you don’t, I’ll slaughter him and his family and send you back to Colombia.
URIBE: Okay, okay. I won’t see him no more. Fuck him. Fuck him.
The sound of the rotary phone being dialed.
URIBE: Thank you, Tia. Thank you.
A moment later, Maria Uribe could be heard withdrawing the contract.
“I’m not worried about that old bitch,” Maher said derisively. “What am I going to do? Run away from some old grandma because she’s shaking her cane at me? Fuck her.”
Slavanki raised his eyebrows. Harkins was right: Maher was fearless.
“We’ll let things cool down a little bit,” Maher continued, “and then we’ll go back to banging out dealers.”
Slavanki recalled Harkin’s exact words. “Kevin is the ultimate informant to the point of being reckless.”
And this was as reckless as it gets.
Maher’s anxiety attacks continued, and during the month of May he had been off sick more than he was on the job. When he did show up, he was driving one of his three cars, all expensive: the Indy 500 replica, the Porsche, or Beth’s Mercedes. Supervisor William French found Maher’s vehicles highly unusual for someone on a railroad salary. Coworkers often told Maher of comments by French to the effect that Maher must be a drug dealer, otherwise he couldn’t afford the high-priced automobiles. One day a coworker overheard French saying he was going to fire Maher. But Maher was not the same blue-collar worker whose spirit had been dulled by long hours and the promise of a pension. Maher was a street kid, then an ex-convict, and now a cop without a badge. Each taught him a different form of settling scores, and he evolved into a formidable hybrid of all three.
When Hector had gotten in his face for dropping keys on the marble table, Maher had reacted to the slight like a convict, but he had resolved it like a cop. And when John Uribe became a threat, Maher didn’t wait for Uribe to come after him, he took the problem to Maher, a threat, just when Maher was trying to put his life back together. Maher owned a home. Had a family. And despite the potential income from the DEA, he didn’t want to be a DEA informant forever. Maher’s plan was to bank a lot of DEA money over the next year or so, then settle in as a good provider for his wife and “adopted” s on. Which is why he needed a real job.
After simmering for a few days, Maher went to Academy Investigators, Inc., a private investigation firm in West Paterson, New Jersey. Upon handing over a $3,500 retainer, Maher told an investigator named Spinelli that he had observed his supervisor, William French, in recent weeks. According Maher, French often disappeared from the job site for extended period of times. And when French returned, he reeked of alcohol.
“I want you to follow him for a week,” Maher said.
On June 4, 1984, more than fiver years after the brutal murders of Alice Molese, Marcia Ferrell, and Harold Ferrell, the long-awaited trial of Brian Molese got under way.
The man responsible for prosecuting Molese was Assistant District Attorney Dennis Calo. The New Jersey-born Calo was a graduate of Columbia University and received his law degree from New York University School of Law. In January 1977, after six months of private practice, Calo joined the Bergen County prosecutor’s office. He was promoted to chief of homicide in May 1979, which was two months after the bloodbath at 24 Sanford Road. In April 1984 he was name first assistant prosecutor. Fewer than three months later, the thirty-six-year-old Calo found himself at the forefront of the Molese case, the prosecutor in what promised to be one of the most sensational murder trials in New Jersey history.
The media had already convicted Molese. Writing from within the walls of the Fourth Estate, journalists had issued a guilty verdict, and now the pressure was on Calo to deliver the same in the courtroom. Unfortunately, the case against Molese was almost entirely circumstantial. There was no weapon recovered, even if Molese’s fingerprints. (Of course had been found at the scene, so what? It was his house.)
Molese had been arrogant throughout the entire investigation. He made weekly calls to the Fair Lawn police headquarters to ask about the progress of the case. But his demeanor was taunting rather than inquisitive.
Molese’s defense was of the “my word against yours” variety. According to Molese, he had Alice were separated by the fall of 1978, and he had moved to an apartment in Greenwich Village. However, he was on speaking terms with his wife –they were trying to work things out- and so he did in fact visit 24 Sanford Road on Thursday night, March 22, 1979. Molese told police he spoke with Alice for a while, after which he sat with little Harold at the dinning room table playing cards. Later in the evening, Molese related, Marcia Ferrell arrived him and he left, returning to Manhattan. Molese claimed that he stopped by a restaurant in the Village called Tiffany, had a grilled cheese sandwich, and then went back to his apartment, where he spent the rest of the night alone. The following evening, Molese said he drove to Fair Lawn with a friend named Larry Gallagher and made the grisly discovery. The motive must have been robbery, Molese speculated, because a number of valuable items were missing, including “a ring once owned by King Farouk.”
When the Fair Lawn policed asked Molese to take a polygraph, he readily agreed. After flunking the lie detector test, Molese just shrugged. He was smart enough to know it wasn’t admissible in court. And when police pressed him for an alibi for the night of March 22, he changed his original story. No, Molese suddenly remembered, he didn’t stay home that night. He was with a “friend.” Molese produced a gay lover who swore he and Molese were together at a Village club called the Ninth Circle. But the story didn’t check out. No one at the Ninth Circle –where Molese was a regular and therefore could be easily identified – recalled seeing Molese that evening.
In Calo’s mind, it was clear that Molese was trying to accomplish three things with his statements to police.
- Neutralize his presence at 24 Sanford Road on the night of March 22. Molese could have denied being at 24 Sanford Road on March 22. But what if the prosecution came up with a witness or witnesses who had seen him enter the house that evening? Following a denial, testimony placing Molese at the scene could be damaging. So Molese simply stated that he was the house on March 22.
- Set the date of the murders as March 23. By saying he was at 24 Sanford Road the evening of the twenty-second and by discovering the bodies on the twenty-third, Molese hoped to create the impression that the homicides occurred on the twenty-third.
- Provide a motive for the killer or killers. The extensive list of jewelry and silverware that Molese claimed was missing from the house was an attempt to indicate that robbery was the motive for the murder.
Despite what Calo theorized, how could the rookie prosecutor, in the absence of physical evidence, refute Molese’s versions of events? He first had to establish Molese’s motive.
Calo set about to prove that Molese had two strong motives for killing his wife: hatred, and financial gain. The star witness in regard to Molese’s animosity toward Alice would be Maher, who would testify about Molese’s solicitations to kill “fat Alice” and describe how much Molese loathed her. And Calo had ferreted out other witnesses who would corroborate Maher’s testimony. While proving that a man despised his wife was not enough to gain a murder conviction by itself, it was a beginning.
As for the financial gain half of the motive, that could be demonstrated by presenting the insurance documents in conjunction with evidence that Molese was deep in debt and that the house at 24 Sanford Road was about the seized by the bank. Although being in debt and collecting on an insurance policy do not make someone a murderer, coupled with Molese’s hatred for Alice, the financial motive gained substantial credibility. Still, not everyone who has a reason to commit murder actually does so. Therefore, Calo had to find a way to convince the jury that Molese didn’t just wish Alice were dead, he also made his wish come true.
Our incident that indicated Molese was serious about killing his wife involved Joseph “Mad Dog” Sullivan. Employees at a law firm where Molese worked as a paralegal in 1978 identified Mad Dog as the man who had stopped by the law office to pick up a set of keys to 24 Sanford Road. Armed with that bit of information, Calo could ask the panel of twelve men and women: Why would Molese give the keys to his wife’s house to a notorious contract killer? The fact that Mad Dog was in possession of the keys wasn’t definitive proof of anything, yet Calo felt it would have a powerful effect when presented in the right context.
Having established a clear motive, the next step was to tear apart Molese’s story. As for his claim that he was at 24 Sanford Road until late evening on March 22, Calo had several witnesses – friends of Alice and Marcia – who would testify that after nine o’clock on that night no one answered the phone. And as far as Molese’s insistence that he the house had been robbed, Calo had physical evidence: the sales receipts and pawn tickets that Maher had saved after he had disposed of Alice’s possessions in 1975. While this proved that the items had not been stolen at the time of the murder, it didn’t prove Molese killed Alice. Molese – an admitted arsonist and embezzler – could later claim he had intended to run an insurance scam and collect on the jewelry and silverware.
The strongest exhibit Calo had was a receipt of a different kind: a cash register receipt. Marcia Ferrell had a meeting at her attorney’s office early on the evening of March 22 and then stopped off at a convenience store and bought some candy to take home to Harold. The receipt was time-stamped just after nine o’clock. What made this significant was the placement of Marcia’s body. She was discovered in the foyer, still wearing her trench coat. And the bag of candy intended for Harold was next to her body. It seemed clear that Marcia was killed when she walked through the doorway on the night of March 22.
Another indication that the murders took place on the twenty-second and not the twenty-third came from Molese’s own statement. Molese has said he was in the dining room playing cards with Harold. When police arrived on the scene, there were playing cards strewn all over the dinning room. Since Alice’s body was slumped in the corner of the dinning room and Harold’s body was found just inside the back door – his throat slashed from behind – one could easily speculate that Harold witnessed the attack on Alice and tried to run away, scattering the playing cards as he jumped from the table.
All these speculations made up the circumstantial case against Brian Molese. And so, on June 4, 1984, Dennis Calo stepped into a New Jersey courtroom with a potpourri of theories, a few scraps of evidence, and a strong belief that Brian Molese had murdered Alice Molese, Marcia Ferrell, and Harold Ferrell.
In his opening remarks, Calo dwelled on Molese’s hatred for Alice and Molese’s subsequent attempt to collect insurance proceeds.
“But Brian Molese’s real motivation was not money,” Calo insisted. “It was his hatred.”
Calo described what he termed Molese’s “true martial relationship” with Alice and pointed out that Molese lived an openly gay life. He told the jury that he would demonstrate that Molese had solicited a hit man to murder Alice. And he emphasized not only the brutality of the crimes but also the age of one of the victims: five-year-old Harold.
On the second day of the trial, Maher and Beth, who was scheduled to testify before Maher entered the courthouse. As they were walking down the hall toward the courtroom, Molese was being brought in, bound in handcuffs and ankle shackles. When Molese saw Maher, he stopped suddenly, almost tripping on the chains around his feet. The look on Molese’s face was one of horror.
Beth testified about the night Molese brutally beat Alice. Several female members of the jury winced as Beth described Alice’s bruised face. But Beth’s testimony was just the prelude to what was to come the following day when Maher took the stand.
For six hours, Maher held the jury rapt as he described how Molese solicited him to murder Alice, first as they sat in the cafeteria at Green Haven and then when he tool Molese and Ronald Scofield to a New Jersey diner after Molese had pummeled Alice. Slowly and carefully, Maher reconstructed every detail of an incredible tale of intense hatred and unbounded greed.
Once, in the midst of painting a damning profile of a sociopath, Maher pointed to Molese and referred to him as “the baby-killer.” This prompted an outbreak in the courtroom.
“Objection!” Molese’s lawyer screamed.
“Sustained!” The judge bellowed, and then admonished the jury: “Disregard that statement!”
But Maher knew that despite the judge’s admonishment, the jury could never forget the phrase “baby-killer.” In Maher’s mind, Molese was convicted at that moment.
On cross-examination, Molese’s lawyer did his best to rattle Maher, often posing complex multiple-part questions and then demanding a “yes or no answer.” But Maher refused to answer yes or no to many of the questions. He often attempted to elaborate, usually directing his response not to Molese’s lawyer, but to the jury.
“Just answer yes or no,” Molese’s lawyer bellowed the first time Maher went off on a tangent.
“But you don’t understand,” Maher protested. “When Molese came to me and – “
“Your Honor,” the lawyer cut in, “please instruct the witness to answer yes or no.”
“Just answer yes or no,” the judge instructed.
Maher was chided by the judge a second time for offering an unsolicited explanation to one of the defense lawyer’s questions. And then a third. Finally the judge lost his patience.
“Do that one more time and you’re going to jail for contempt!” the judge warned Maher.
When the cross-examination was over and Maher stepped down from the witness box, he studied the jury, reading their faces one by one. Each furrowed countenance seemed to be saying the same thing: guilty.
On the same day that the Molese trial began, Academy Investigators’ Spinelli began shadowing William French. Each day, Spinelli would make entries in a diary, documenting French’s movements. This information was being gathered for a report that would be titled An Investigation Conducted by Investigator Spinelli… in Reference to Activities During Work Hours of One William French, New Jersey Transit Signal Supervisor.
The first day of Spinelli’s report was nothing if not thorough.
Monday, June 4, 1984: at 5:45 A.M. this writer arrived at 162 North Road, Nutley, New Jersey, home of WILLIAM FRENCH, hereinafter referred to as the “Subject.”
The subject left Nutley around the same time, arriving at the Hoboken New Jersey Transit Terminal at 6:05 A.M.
At 6:05 A.M., the subject parked his van at the terminal entrance and entered the terminal… This write say outside the terminal to continue to surveillance in the case the subject should leave the terminal
At 11:15 A.M., the subject left the terminal in Hoboken and later arrived at his home in Nutley, at 11:30 A.M., the subject parked his van next his Cadillac, License Plate number 918-RAD.
At 12:30 P.m., the subject left his home in Nutley, driving his can in the opposite direction from work. The writer lost the subject due to traffic.
At 1:00 P.M., this writer returned to the terminal at Hoboken to see if the subject would return to work. This writer stayed at the terminal till 3:30 P.M. Subject did not return to the terminal that day. This writer called off surveillance for the day and returned to the office.
Subsequent entries were more damaging to French. Excerpts from those entries included:
Tuesday, June 5, 1984:… At 9:15 A.M., subject left the terminal in Hoboken and stopped at a shopping center…9:30 A.M., the subject …made a call from an outside phone booth…9:50 A.M. the subject arrived in Nutley… At 11:00 A.M. subject left his home…subject did not return to work…
Wednesday, June 6, 1984:…at 11:00 A.M., subject is seen leaving terminal… at1:10 P.M. subject and another employee …left train station … at 1:15 P.M., subject pulled into a bar called “Spanky’s” on Broadway in Woodcliff Lakes, New Jersey…at 2:30 P.M., the subject and the other fellow left the bar, then this writer went passed [sic] them into the bar… and asked the bartender, whose name is Judy, what the subject and the other fellow had to drink. Judy said the subject had three (3) Spritzers…
Thursday, June 7, 1984:…at 9:40 A.M., the subject was seen leaving terminal…the subject arrived at his home in Nutley at 10:20 A.M…. at 1:10 P.M….parked his van and proceeded on foot to a bar on the corner. The bar was called “For Pete’s Sake.” The subject then entered the bar through the back door, with this writer entering the bar through the front door…observed the subject having two (2) drinks which looked like Spritzers in a total of approximately 20 minutes… At 3:30 P.M., the subject left the bar through the back door… The subject had been in the bar for two hours and twenty minutes…
Friday, June 8, 1984:… At 9:20 A.M., the subject left the terminal… this writer followed the subject and another employee to the entrance of Ramsey Golf Course and Country Club, arriving there at 11:25 A.M….at 12:50 P.M., the subject and approximately 16 other men came out of the clubhouse and paird up with carts going in different directions onto the course… the fellow in the office said the game would probably continue for four and one-half hours (4 ½) so this writer just kept surveillance on the subject until 3:30 P.M…
Drinking. Playing golf. Suddenly it wasn’t Maher who appeared to have a problem. It was William French.
On June 8, Maher and Beth appeared in divorce court. The judge found that Beth had been abandoned due to Eschert’s incarceration. The following Sunday, June 10, Maher and Beth were married by a justice of the peace. A week later they moved into their new home and added a new member to the family: a second German shepherd to keep Samantha company, a female they named Heidi. This time, Maher told himself as he walked around his house, everything’s going to be fine.
The Molese trial continued through the month of June as Calo – in the absence of hard evidence – produced a parade of witnesses.
Jerry Speigelman, a lawyer at the firm where Molese worked as a paralegal, confirmed that Molese despised Alice, adding that “he told me the only reason he married her was to build a credible parole plan.” Speigelman said that in 1978, Molese told him he intended to have his wife killed and that he wanted to be out of town over Thanksgiving because “that’s when the murders are going to take place.” In addition, Molese had told Spiegelman that he had hired “Mad Dog” Sullivan, “ a real madman who was going to make a mess.” And then, one day in September 1978, Mad Dog himself arrived at the law office to pick up keys to 24 Sanford Road.
(Calo opted not to call Mad Dog, an unindicted coconspirator in the case, as a witness. Mad Dog was probably not feeling cooperative. Since his arrest in 1982, he had been convicted of several homicides, and his earliest opportunity for parole would be the year 2094.)
Next on the stand was Suzette Holmes, a secretary at the law firm. She corroborated Speigelman’s testimony.
Norm Nerl from the Provident pawn shop testified that Maher had indeed pawned an antique necklace Molese had listed as having been stolen.
Derek, one of Molese’s gay lovers, told the court that Molese had shown up the morning of the twenty-third looking like he hadn’t slept.
Larry Gallagher, who had been with Molese when the bodies were discovered, said Molese had found him in a bar and was persistent about driving to Fair Lawn the night of March 23.
GALLAGHER: My car was in the shop and he insisted on loaning me his car, which was parked in Fair Lawn. I kept telling him I didn’t need a car.
CALO: After you got to Fair Lawn, what happened?
GALLAGHER: He walked in the door and went right to the dinning room where two of the bodies were.
CALO: Like he knew they were there?
GALLAGHER: Yes.
On July 5, 1984, the jury found Brian Molese guilty of three counts of first-degree murder.
It had been a decade since Molese sat in a cafeteria at Green Haven Prison, ranting on about “fat Alice.” So when Maher heard the verdict, one might expect he would have been elated. Instead, he cried. Because he knew no matter how deep they locked Molese away in the dungeons of the penal system, it was too late to save Alice. Too late to save Marcia Ferrell. And too late for little Harold.
