Fugitive Man Page 5

  After grabbing onto an “excuse” for his actions, Hamilton gave details. He stated, “That priest put his hands on me every time I got near him.” He also said that Father McCarthy kept asking him to sleep in the priest’s room. According to Hamilton, on December 17th, his brother Bernard Joseph and Father McCarthy had dinner with Hamilton. After dinner, Father McCarthy went to bed. Hamilton stated that he told his brother that if the priest did not leave him alone, he would “have to hurt him, and if I hurt him, I would have to kill him.”

  After dinner, Hamilton brought the rectory keys to Father McCarthy, and Father McCarthy again “came on” to him. Hamilton stated, “Right then and there, I knew I was going to hurt that man.” He then began hitting Father Hamilton with a hammer he had conveniently brought to the room with him. Although Hamilton hit Father McCarthy “hard,” he did not pass out but just rolled out of the bed, said that he was cold, and asked for his robe. Hamilton claimed that, at that point, he thought he would just “knock Father McCarthy out” and take his vehicle.

  By then Hamilton’s brother Bernard Joseph had rejoined Hamilton. They located about $80 in one dollar bills and “thought of just leaving,” but decided Father McCarthy would call the police to report the robbery. So Hamilton and Joseph “decided the easiest way out of it would be to choke him.” Hamilton stated they then found an extension cord, wrapped it twice around Father McCarthy’s neck, and “pulled hard for a long time,” perhaps ten minutes. When they stopped pulling, Father McCarthy was “still trying to breathe.” So, according to Hamilton, his brother then stabbed Father McCarthy four times in the throat. Then they pulled on the ends of the extension cord “really hard for about fifteen minutes.” Bernard Joseph then poured salt on Father McCarthy (including down his throat). When they concluded that Father McCarthy was dead, they “took some things” and left in the parish’s vehicle.

  The idea that being approached by a gay priest would justify assault and murder is appalling, but Phil and I had to keep that to ourselves and continue to befriend Marcus. We wanted to obtain the whole story from Marcus, and we ultimately did. It’s interesting, and calls to question the “gay” component of the confession, that Hamilton chose to attack Father McCarthy only after being told that he had to move out of the rectory. Being forced to depart the rectory, in all likelihood, is why the murder actually occurred. After close to six hours of talking, we obtained a three-page statement that detailed the horrible things Marcus and his brother did to Father McCarthy. With statement in hand, we concluded our interview and put Marcus in the Harris County Jail.

  Six hours seems like a long interview. It was. But it was pleasant, and through the entire interview, we treated Marcus with respect. It simply took that long to gather all the details. When interviewing suspects, I always attempted to show respect and worked to develop rapport. It’s the best way to get someone to talk. At that time, the Bureau did not allow recording of interviews. I believe that has changed. I have always thought that recording the entire interview is appropriate. That way, the jury can hear the whole story, and allegations of mistreatment of the suspect can be avoided.

  Phil and I subsequently testified in Marcus Hamilton’s trial in New Orleans. The written confession was admitted into evidence and is quoted in the Louisiana Supreme Court appeal decision, which upheld the death penalty.

  After hearing all the evidence and the arguments from the state and defense attorneys, the jury quickly convicted Marcus and ultimately sentenced him to death. When I say quickly, when it came time to determine guilt or innocence, the jury retired at about five p.m., had a fried chicken dinner, and came back at six-thirty p.m. with the guilty verdict. By any standard, that’s quick.

  The punishment phase, which was like a separate trial and occurred the next day, was a bit different. The jury was out for two hours, came back with a couple of questions for the judge, and then was out for another hour or so. I watched the jurors as they returned to the jury box and noted a couple with tissues in their hands and tears in their eyes. I knew they had returned with the death penalty for Hamilton.

  It was also interesting to observe the interaction of the defense attorneys and priests who were present as spectators during the trial. There were five or six priests constantly on hand in the courtroom throughout the proceedings. I watched as the defense attorneys spoke with them individually during breaks in the trial, approaching each priest and asking him what he thought of capital punishment. Each priest had roughly the same reply: “I’m not really sure.” If any of the priests had replied that they were against the death penalty, I imagine that the priest would have been called as a witness during the punishment phase of the trial. The Roman Catholic Church may be against the death penalty, but you better not count on their support if you kill a Catholic priest.

  Two of the best police shows of all time are Hill Street Blues and NYPD Blue. Both are very well written, developing each central character well beyond the character’s role as a police officer. On Hill Street Blues, the character development was superb. I tried to never miss an episode and have all the episodes on DVD. The show has passed the test of time.

  Two of the many great characters on Hill Street Blues were Bobby Hill, played by Michael Warren, and Andy Renko, played by Charles Haid. Bobby Hill was an intelligent, sensitive officer who worked diligently to rein in his good friend and partner, Andy Renko. Andy came across as a brash, loud officer who, underneath his harsh demeanor, possessed sensitivity that Bobby recognized and appreciated. The relationship between them was often complicated and rich with conflict on and off the job. Michael Warren and Charles Haid were both great at bringing to life the Hill and Renko characters.

  I mention Hill Street Blues because it came to be on my mind during Marcus Hamilton’s trial. The movie Storyville, starring James Spader and co-starring Charlotte Lewis and Jason Robards, also featured Michael Warren and Charles Haid. During Marcus Hamilton’s trial, the courtroom directly next to ours was being used as a set for the movie. I think James Spader a great actor, and while I was waiting to be called to testify, I watched him quickly pacing back and forth in the hallway that fronted the courtroom in anticipation of the next scene. It appeared that he was intentionally working up a sweat or state of fervor for the scene that was about to be shot in the courtroom. Perhaps that’s a facet of method acting? Whatever it is, it clearly works for Spader.

  Anyway, I was called into the courtroom to testify. As I raised my right hand to be sworn in, there, seated in the back of the courtroom, was Michael Warren. I had to smile, and if the judge had asked me why I was smiling, I would have pointed at Michael Warren and told him it was Bobby Hill from Hill Street Blues. For me, it was a happy, surreal moment in a deadly serious environment.

  I’ve often wondered if my suggestion of sexual harassment as a motive was the right thing to do. The way Marcus thought about it for a few moments and then lit up and embraced the explanation when offered made me think that Father McCarthy clearly hadn’t harassed Marcus and that Father McCarthy had been killed so he couldn’t testify against the brothers.

  In thinking back on it, I did not know how strong the New Orleans Police Department case was against Marcus and felt justified in offering him an excuse that resulted in his confession. It was likely the right thing to do.

  Subsequently, Marcus suffered a stroke in prison, and his sentence was changed to life without the possibility of parole. He resides at the Louisiana State Prison in Angola, Louisiana.

  I always appreciated letters from the Director for a job well done, but I especially appreciated the letter sent to my boss at the time, SAC Andrew Duffin, by Father McCarthy’s brother, who was an assistant United States attorney in New York:

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CRIMESTOPPERS

  While I was assigned to the Houston Division, the local Crimestoppers program was annually recognized as the most proficient in the world. Since it was established in 198
1, Crimestoppers of Houston has helped solve over 30,000 crimes, been responsible for the arrest of over 25,000 felony fugitives, and paid over $10 million in cash rewards. That cash comes from contributions from businesses and individuals.

  During my eight years in Houston, HPD Sergeant John Gilbert ran Crimestoppers and was extraordinarily innovative and cooperative in working with all law enforcement agencies in his efforts to locate fugitives. He, and the policies he established, were responsible for many arrests. Crimestoppers occasionally came up with tips on people wanted by the FBI, and I made several arrests based on Crimestoppers tips. It is a prodigious program.

  I also participated from time to time on sort of a Crimestoppers ad-hoc task force, led by Lieutenant Tom Frazier of the Harris County District Attorney’s Office. Participants included district attorney investigators, Houston police detectives, Harris County sheriff’s detectives, a Harris County Precinct Four deputy constable, a deputy U.S. marshal, and sometimes me. When I was subsequently promoted and moved to the Violent Crimes Section at FBIHQ, that Houston task force served as an example to me of how what was to be known as “Safe Streets Violent Crime Task Forces” could successfully function.

  I also worked with a few deputy U.S. marshals on several Crimestoppers tips during my time in Houston and found them to be quite good at locating fugitives. Since the events of 9/11, the Marshals Service now conducts many more fugitive investigations. I know that, if I was still working on the street, I wouldn’t like that, but there certainly has to be priorities, and many of the UFAP matters have been supplanted by counterterrorism investigations.

  During my first couple of years in Houston, I worked frequently with the late Special Agent Andy Tully. Andy was a Houston institution. He had a great, warm sense of humor, and everyone seemed to know and love him. His connections were extraordinary and appeared limitless. His friends included professional athletes, famous musicians, television personalities, wealthy socialites, and con men. He was great at developing intelligence on just about anything imaginable. He was a good friend and asset for many of the new agents in Houston.

  Shortly after arriving in Houston, I received a call one night from Andy telling me to meet him at a 7/11 in a Houston north-side neighborhood. Months before, a fugitive serving life for murder had escaped from the Texas Department of Corrections, and a caller to Crimestoppers had reported that he was present at his ex-wife’s home in Houston. Andy and I went there with several officers and an assistant district attorney, who carried a badge, was armed, and was a peace officer in Texas. That same assistant district attorney had obtained a search warrant for the home of the fugitive’s ex-wife and led the entry into the house. It was quite a production, and until then, I never knew that a prosecutor or assistant district attorney could kick in doors and make arrests; maybe it’s a Texas thing. We entered the home to find the fugitive’s enraged ex-wife alone in the house. She declared it would be a cold day in Hell when her rotten, SOB, ex-husband was in her house. The call to Crimestoppers was a bust.

  After residing comfortably in Mexico for several years, the same fugitive was captured. During subsequent interviews, he pronounced that one of the high points of his time on the run was the night he was in Houston and called Crimestoppers to report that he was at his ex-wife’s home. He thoroughly enjoyed being nearby and watching the police swarm into her home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AMERICA’S MOST WANTED

  Shortly after America’s Most Wanted premiered on Sunday nights in 1988, I was able to have a man featured on the show that had shot and almost killed two Houston police officers. After realizing he was the subject of a nationwide manhunt, and partially thanks to the pressure associated with having been featured on AMW, the man turned himself in.

  In an interesting twist, the man who shot the police officers was verbose in his conversations with his cellmate. The cellmate, looking for some help on his charges, consented to wearing a recorder in the cell. With the recorder running, the subject bragged that his father was very wealthy and had hired him one of the best attorneys in the country and bragged that he was “not going to do any serious time.” After the recording was played, the man was sentenced to 99 years. (Had it not been recorded, it would have been one cellmate’s word against the other. The testifying cellmate would clearly have an incentive to lie to help his case and his testimony would rightfully be highly questionable. It’s an example of why using recorders makes for the best evidence in the criminal justice system.)

  With that first success, I was appreciative of AMW’s potential. Thereafter, I had a couple of interactions with the show, both as an agent in Houston and as a supervisory special agent in the Violent Crimes Section at FBIHQ. The show was a great asset to law enforcement.

  One of the premiere captures highlighted over the years by AMW was John Alexander Riccardi, profiled on AMW three times. The following is from the AMW website, which is no longer on the Internet:

  If He Can’t Have Her, No One Can

  John Riccardi would probably tell you today that he still loves Connie Navarro, the girlfriend he murdered in cold blood.

  (Connie was the mother of Rock & Roll Icon Dave Navarro.)

  And he would probably tell you, he killed Connie because he loved her so much.

  Judging from his pictures taken in the 1980s, Riccardi could have gotten any woman he wanted. But he was attracted to Connie, and she to him.

  Theirs was a love affair of opposites. He was from New York; Connie was a California girl.

  Riccardi was flashy, flirty, vain, and mysteriously wealthy. He alluded to ties with the mob, but hid the fact he was a common burglar. Connie was fun, hardworking, and an adoring mother to her teenage son David.

  What they shared was an interest in bodybuilding and a strong sexual attraction.

  If John Riccardi was telling the story, he would say things went sour when Connie decided to leave him. But friends say it was Riccardi’s insane jealousy that led to their breakup.

  Riccardi couldn’t accept losing Connie, so on March 3, 1983, he went to her West LA apartment to talk and eventually kill. Connie wasn’t home, so Riccardi, the burglar, broke in and waited, armed with a .38 revolver.

  Connie showed up with her best friend, Susan Jory. An argument broke out, and Riccardi shot Connie. She died from a gunshot wound to the chest. When Susan went to help her friend, Riccardi shot her in the head.

  That night, John Riccardi began his eight-year-long life-on-the-run.

  The Manhunt Begins

  In 1983, FBI Agent Ralph DiFonzo had been with the Bureau for 8 years. He was brash, aggressive, and just about the best manhunter in the LA fugitive squad.

  When DiFonzo retired 20 years later, he had personally nailed two of the FBI’s Top Ten.

  But back then, DiFonzo was faced with tracking a not-so-typical murderer on the run. The FBI felt Riccardi’s alleged mob ties would help him keep one step ahead of the law, which kept DiFonzo on his toes. From 1983 to 1988, DiFonzo tried to keep Riccardi’s face in the news. An ad was placed in Muscle and Fitness Magazine, and the LAPD put Riccardi on their “10 Most Wanted” list.

  In 1988, when John Riccardi’s father died in New York, DiFonzo requested that undercover FBI agents attend the funeral in an attempt to spot Riccardi.

  It was a complete wash. Worse yet, rumors had surfaced that Riccardi had been killed in a car accident and was buried in New York’s Potter’s Field.

  Last Stand for The Ladies Man

  In 1989, DiFonzo turned to the new Fox television show, America’s Most Wanted, and Riccardi was profiled three times. With each airing, the FBI got closer to their man.

  DiFonzo learned from AMW tipsters, that Riccardi was very much alive; he even found the gym where Riccardi worked out in New York. The FBI missed him by days. He also learned Riccardi had had plastic surgery to alter his appearance. But the best clue was that Ricc
ardi had a new girlfriend, a young Scandinavian woman, with a model’s looks.

  A composite sketch of Riccardi’s girlfriend was aired on AMW. A viewer not only identified her, but also provided Agent DiFonzo with information he’d been waiting eight years for: John Riccardi’s alias and his address in Houston, Texas.

  The End of the Line

  John Riccardi was surrounded by 10 FBI agents outside his luxury condominium in Houston. It was January 4, 1991, and his eight years on the run had come to an end.

  Riccardi was wanted in LA for the 1983 murder of his ex-girlfriend Connie Navarro and her friend Susan Jory. He had shot them both to death, police believe, using a silencer.

  Briefcase Full of Clues

  As Riccardi was led away in cuffs, he insisted that the FBI had the wrong man. He said his name was William Failla – a self-employed man who dealt in gold and jewels.

  Sure enough, inside his wallet, FBI agents found a driver’s license for Bill Failla, but they also found a picture of Connie Navarro, the ex-girlfriend Riccardi had murdered.

  But there was an even bigger surprise in Riccardi’s briefcase. There, agents found a videotaped copy of his profile on AMW – proving that even fugitives are fans of America’s Most Wanted.

  Agents also discovered a stockpile of stolen jewelry and cash totaling over $1,000,000. Riccardi hadn’t been lying about the self-employed part. He later pled guilty to running an interstate burglary ring. To this date, agents have not identified all the burglaries committed by Riccardi’s crew.