The Mad Bomber of New York (34 page)

Q
. Have you committed a crime?

A
. No, of course not. How can I have committed a crime if I performed society a great service?

Q
. Do you feel that you should be punished?

A
. No, of course not. When two nations have a dispute they write notes to each other. When the notes are ineffective then they have to use force, they send over bombers, blow up cities, kill and maim many innocent women and children and [w]hen the bombers return from their mission, society pins a medal upon their breast for their good deeds and for services rendered.

Q
. Do you feel that you should be similarly rewarded?

A
. Certainly.

Q
. You learned from newspaper reports that innocent people were hurt by the bomb explosions, did you not?

A
. Yes, that's what I heard over the radio and I felt bad about it because if the police were not criminally negligent in their duties they would have gotten those people out of the area.

Q
. If you felt bad about innocent people getting hurt, then why did you continue laying many more bombs that exploded?

A
. Because I had a great mission to carry out and it was my duty to continue in my efforts to attract attention of the world to expose Con Ed. This was my great service to society . . .

Q
. What are you guilty of, if anything?

A
. The only thing that I am guilty of is making a loud noise in a public place.

On January 28, Assistant District Attorney Karl Grebow began presenting evidence to a New York County grand jury on further and more serious charges against George Metesky. Among thirty-five separate witnesses examined by the prosecutor in the Court of General Sessions were eight individuals who had suffered injuries as a result of Metesky's explosives, as well as a slew of bomb squad and police laboratory detectives who linked the physical evidence and writing samples to one man: the Mad Bomber.

Two days later the grand jury returned a forty-seven-count indictment against George Metesky on charges ranging from possession of a bomb to attempted murder in the first degree, acts that, according to the indictment itself, were “imminently dangerous to others and evincing a depraved mind, regardless of human life . . .” The charges, which covered twenty separate incidents, included only those bombings from March 1952 forward in light of the applicable five-year statute of limitations and carried a maximum combined sentence of 815 years in prison.

On January 31, Metesky was brought under heavy guard to the General Sessions courthouse on Centre Street in Manhattan for arraignment under the new charges against him. James Murray, standing next to his shackled client, made the perfunctory request that Metesky be recommitted to Bellevue, where psychological testing and examination was ongoing, on the grounds that he did not have the requisite mental capacity to understand the charges levied against him. Judge Louis Capozzoli cordially agreed without objection from the assistant district attorney, and the matter was put over to February 21 for further review pending completion of the psychiatric reports. It would be the last time that the criminal courts of New York County would look favorably upon George Metesky.

Meanwhile, in Brooklyn, New York, Kings County district attorney Edward Silver announced plans to seek similar charges against Metesky for his calamitous bombing of the Brooklyn Paramount Theatre on December 2, 1956. In the coming days, Silver's office convened another grand jury, submitted evidence through twenty-six separate witnesses, and was granted its own multiple-count indictment against the Mad Bomber.

On February 19, a pale and worn though still smiling Metesky was once again loaded into a prison van and transported to the Kings County Courthouse in Brooklyn, where he stood silently handcuffed to a corrections officer before Judge Hyman Barshay. Again James Murray informed that court that his client was in the process of undergoing psychiatric evaluation at Bellevue and requested that the proceedings be postponed pending the results of that evaluation. As with the New York County proceedings, Judge Barshay consented and recommitted Metesky until the final reports as to his competency were available.

In compliance with the technical provisions of the law, Metesky was taken to a police precinct in Kings County for rebooking before returning to Bellevue. After the usual front and side view mug shots were taken, he jovially exclaimed, “Gee whizz! I thought I'd get a Manhattan cocktail after this was all over. Boys I need one bad!”

Clearly not the indulgence requested, the “Manhattan cocktail” that would ultimately be served to George Metesky was, in fact, a looming battle between courts of competing jurisdiction with nothing short of his legal fate hanging in the balance.

The average stay in the Bellevue prison ward for psychiatric observation and assessment was about twenty-one days, and though the law actually permitted sixty days for the psychiatrists to draw their report, a growing impatience seemed to permeate the public and the press as the final weeks in the short month of February 1957 passed. “This fellow is smarter than a Supreme Court Justice,” commented James Murray when asked about the lengthy deliberations of the Bellevue psychiatric team. “If a blithering idiot gets into the psychopathic ward the doctors can report on him in 10 days or so. But there is probably no limit as to disagreements on Metesky.” On February 21, the rescheduled date of arraignment in the New York County Court of General Sessions, the final psychiatric report was still not available and the matter was further continued until such time that the report was complete. By the end of February, however, the new presiding judge in the court's revolving docket, John A. Mullen, had had enough.

Ruddy faced and Tammany connected, Judge Mullen had gained a reputation over seventeen years of service on the bench as a tough but fair-minded jurist whose angry glower often signaled a harsh sentence. During the 1955 murder trial of Elmer (Trigger) Burke, a notorious killer with organized crime connections, Burke peered up at Judge Mullen, who had presided over the case, and politely said, “I won't answer the question you just directed to me, but I want you to know that I respect you as a judge and I like you as a man.” Well after Burke's execution Mullen would reflect that it was perhaps the nicest compliment he had ever received.

On February 28, though the final typed report on the psychiatric evaluation of George Metesky had still not been completed, an angry Judge Mullen, in a fit of judicial irritability, demanded that the defendant be brought before him in an unscheduled and impromptu hearing to answer to the charges of the lengthy indictment. Mullen further ordered that at least one of the three psychiatrists who had been chosen to assess and report on Metesky's mental condition appear together with the prosecutor and counsel for the accused. As the order made its way through the halls of Bellevue and to the law offices of James D. C. Murray, an air of confusion if not panic began to rise. The impetuous command had caught everyone quite by surprise.

George Metesky was quickly dressed and hustled from Bellevue to the New York County Courthouse with the usual entourage of patrolmen and prison guards. Dr. John Cassity, one of Metesky's psychiatric evaluators, met Assistant District Attorney Grebow, who had been summoned from another courtroom, and the pair rushed before Judge Mullen's bench, where they stood in puzzlement. James Murray, who was that day actively engaged in another criminal trial at the Bronx County Court, quickly arranged to have his associate, Irving Greenberg, appear in his stead in an effort to cajole from the judge a postponement of the matter.

As the court was gaveled to order, Greenberg informed Judge Mullen of Murray's unavailability and implored him to reschedule the arraignment to a future date. He argued that Metesky was the client of his law partner and that he, Greenberg, was neither suitably conversant with the facts nor sufficiently competent to offer effective representation to the defendant. Finally, Greenberg made clear to Judge Mullen that the final report on Metesky's mental condition, though very near, was not yet complete.

Unmoved, the scarlet-cheeked jurist curtly inquired whether Greenberg had anything further to add. As the befuddled lawyer stood in silence, Mullen instructed the clerk to swear in Dr. Cassity and he began interrogating the witness.

There had been general agreement among the Bellevue psychiatrists that Metesky was, indeed, incompetent to stand trial, and the final report, when complete, would bear this out. As one of the lead analysts on the case, Dr. Cassity had interviewed and observed Metesky on many occasions and was intimately familiar with the salient provisions of the report that was to come. Thus, when questioned as to the mental condition of his patient, Cassity did not hesitate. He explained to Judge Mullen that though Metesky's general behavior was agreeable, it was evident to the psychiatric team from the start that he was mentally ill. In detailing Metesky's “mission” against Con Ed, Cassity described his gruesome fantasies of murder and his grandiose delusions of providing a service to mankind through his bombing campaign.

“Did he indicate to you at all times that he knew the quality of his actions that he was doing?” asked Mullen.

“I do not think that he knew the nature and quality or significance,” Cassity responded without hesitation.

Mullen narrowed his eyes; his thumb and forefinger caressed his chin. “Did it appear to you that he knew the nature of the act that he did or was contemplating doing? Did he know that he was, let us say, exploding a bomb?”

“To my opinion,” answered the doctor, “I do not think that he knew the nature and quality of his acts.”

“Did he know, in your opinion, that exploding a bomb is exploding a bomb?”

“Yes, I think he knew that.”

Mullen's voice grew louder as he peered down at the witness from the ornate oaken bench. “Do you think that he knew that that was against the accepted rules of conduct in the society in which he lived?”

“No I don't think so,” he responded.

As the testimony concluded Judge Mullen cast an accusatory eye at George Metesky, who stood serenely to the side of the courtroom, accompanied by several officers. Mullen then shifted his gaze to Irving Greenberg and, despite Dr. Cassity's unambiguous testimony as to Metesky's marginalized mental condition, demanded that a plea to the indictment be entered on behalf of the defendant. A now angry Greenberg sprung to his feet and again objected pointing out that the psychiatric report had not been finalized or distributed to counsel as required by statute, and thus a plea short of an appropriate and fully informed competency hearing would be a legal nullity and a miscarriage of justice. When pressed, the indignant attorney refused to enter a plea, knowing that to do so would move Metesky one step closer to a trial that, with a proper finding of legal incompetency, should never take place. Undeterred, Judge Mullen entered a plea by proxy of not guilty, reserving a later defense of insanity, and ordered Metesky to stand trial for his crimes. “What the doctors say about sanity is one thing,” snorted Mullen. “I have formed an opinion. The report is no deterrent at this stage of the game.”