At the age of 18, Butch was given a job at his father’s car dealership which was a sole agency for Buick. By his own account it was an easy job, where little was expected of him. Regardless of whether he showed up for work or not, he received a cash allowance from his father at the end of each week, which sometimes amounted to $500. This he used to run his car, and buy alcohol and drugs.
In January 1971, Butch DeFeo met a young woman called Geraldine, in the Ninth Bar in New York City. They dated for quite a while, then, in December 1973, she found out that she was pregnant. His father started hounding the couple to get married and, after their daughter, Stephanie, was born, they married on 17 October 1974, at the Garfield Grant Hotel in Long Branch, New Jersey.
Altercations with his father were growing ever more frequent and progressively more violent. One evening, a fight broke out between Butch’s father and mother. In order to settle the matter, Butch grabbed a 12-gauge shotgun from his room, loaded a shell into the chamber, and charged downstairs to the scene of the fight. Without hesitation or calling out to the participants to break up the argument, Butch pointed the barrel at his father’s face, yelling, ‘Leave that woman alone. I’m going to kill you, you fat fuck! This is it.’
He pulled the trigger, but the gun mysteriously did not discharge. Ronald Sr froze where he stood and watched in grim amazement as his own son lowered the weapon and simply walked out of the room, with casual indifference to the fact that he had almost killed his own father. While that particular fight was over, Butch’s actions foreshadowed the violence he would soon unleash, not only upon his father, but also his entire family.
This incident with the shotgun seems to have inspired in Ronald Sr something akin to a religious conversion. He became a devout Catholic, and built several religious shrines amid the manicured grounds of High Hopes, and neighbours often saw him saying his rosary in front of a shrine of St Joseph and the Christ child that he had built on his front lawn.
* * *
In the weeks before the Amityville slayings, relations between Butch DeFeo and his father reached breaking point. Apparently dissatisfied with the money he ‘earned’ working for his father, Butch devised a scheme to defraud his family further. Two weeks before the massacre, he was sent on an errand by one of the staff at the Buick dealership, charged with the responsibility of depositing $1,800 in cash and $20,000 in cheques at the bank. Accompanied by a fellow worker from the dealership, they departed for the bank at 12.30pm. They were gone for two hours. When they finally returned, it was to report that they had been robbed at gunpoint while waiting at a red light. Ronald Sr exploded with rage, berating the staff member who had sent his son in the first place.
The police were called and naturally asked to speak to Butch. In reality, he and his accomplice had kept the money and split it two ways. Instead of engaging in at least a pretence of co-operation, he concocted a description of the fictional robber, becoming tense and irritable with detectives. As the officers began to suspect that he was lying and focused their questions on the two hours he was away, his behaviour became aggressive.
‘Wouldn’t you have rushed back to the dealership once you had been robbed of so much money?’ asked the police. ‘Where had you been during that time?’
In response to their questions, Butch began to curse at them, banging on the hood of a car to emphasise his rage. The police backed off for a moment, but his father had already come to the conclusion that his son was lying and had stolen the money himself.
On the Friday prior to the murders at High Hopes, Butch had been asked by the police to examine some mug shots in the possibility that he might be able to recognise the robber. Initially he agreed, but pulled out at the last moment. When Ronald DeFeo Sr heard of this, he cornered his son at work, demanding to know why he wouldn’t co-operate with the police.
‘You’ve got the Devil on your back,’ his father screamed at him.
This time Butch did not hesitate. ‘You fat prick,’ he screamed, ‘I’ll kill you.’
Then he ran to his car and sped off. While this incident had not resulted in an exchange of blows, a final confrontation was clearly imminent.
* * *
The still shroud of night blanketed the village of Amityville in the early hours of Wednesday, November 14, 1974. Stray house pets and the occasional passing car were the only signs of life as families and neighbours slumbered. But hatred and savagery were brewing beneath the seeming calm at High Hopes on Ocean Avenue. The entire DeFeo family had retired to bed, with the exception of Butch. He sat in the quiet of his room, brooding on what he wanted to do, which was to ensure that his father and family would trouble him no more.
Butch was the only member of the family with his own room. His violent disposition and the fact that he was the eldest had afforded him this small luxury. It also provided him with a private storage place for a number of weapons he collected and sometimes sold. On this particular night, he withdrew a .35-calibre Marlin martini-action rifle from his closet. He set off, stealthily but resolutely, towards the door of his parents’ master bedroom. Quietly pushing the door open, he stood, momentarily observing them as they slept, totally oblivious to the horror that was about to engulf them. Then, without hesitation, Butch raised the rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. The first of eight fatal shots fired that night, slammed into his father’s back.
Just after 3.00am, Butch DeFeo completed the annihilation of his family. Each defenceless member had been brutally slain in cold blood. The family dog, Shaggy, tied up outside the boathouse, was barking furiously in reaction to the sporadic bursts of violence emanating from the house. The animal’s barking did not distract Butch in the least. Aware that he had completed the task he had set out to do, he now turned his attention to cleaning himself up and establishing an alibi to throw off the inevitable police investigation that would ensue.
First, he showered, and trimmed his beard. Then, dressed in jeans and leather work boots, he collected up his bloodied clothing, the rifle with its scabbard, and retrieved one of the expended cartridge cases from the floor. Stuffing everything into a pillowcase, he drove off into the pre-dawn light. His first stop was at the end of Ocean Avenue, where he threw the rifle into the dock. From there, he drove to Brooklyn and disposed of the pillowcase and its contents by throwing them into a sewer. Then he reported for work, at his late father’s dealership, as if nothing had happened. For him, it was 6.00am and business as usual.
Butch did not remain at work for long. He called home several times and, when his father failed to show up, he acted as though he were bored with nothing to do and left around noon. He called his girlfriend, Mindy Weiss, to let her know that he would be at her place early from work, and that he wanted to stop by and see her. On his way, he passed a friend, Robert Kelske, and recalled the incident later during a prison interview:
‘In my drugged stupour, I was driving down the road in Amityville and Robert Kelske, a junkie strung out on heroin, pulled up alongside of my car and started asking off-the-wall questions. This didn’t register then because Kelske was a junkie and a thief who had previously burglarized both of my neighbour’s homes, so I paid his questions no mind.’
DeFeo reached his girlfriend’s house at around 1.30pm. Mindy was 19 years old, an attractive and popular waitress at Longfellow’s Bar. He casually mentioned on arrival that he had tried to call home several times and, although there were cars in the driveway, there was no response. To make the point, he called his home from Mindy’s apartment with the same predictable result.
Acting as though he was puzzled but unconcerned, Butch took Mindy shopping during the afternoon. From the mall in Massapequa, they drove to see Patricia and Robert Geiger, where DeFeo bought five $10 bags of heroin and shot them up. He said, ‘I was out of it and actually forgot about what had happened at my house … I sort of blacked out.’
Just after 6.00pm, Butch arrived at Henry’s Bar in Amityville, where he met Robert Kelske. Once again, he feigned c
oncern over his inability to reach anyone at home.
‘I’m going to have to go home and break a window to get in,’ he said.
‘Well, do what you have to do,’ his friend replied blithely.
Ronald left the bar on his supposed journey of discovery, only to return within minutes in a state of agitation and dismay.
‘Bob, you gotta help me,’ he implored. ‘Someone shot my mother and father!’
The two friends were joined by a small group of patrons, and they all piled into Butch’s car, driving off with Kelske at the wheel. Approximately 15 hours had elapsed since the murders were committed. Within moments of arriving at the house, Kelske had entered the front door and raced upstairs into the master bedroom. He retraced his steps to find Butch distraught with grief and dismay. Joe Yeswit found a telephone in the kitchen and called the police.
At precisely 6.40pm on 13 November 1974, Patrolman Kenneth J Greguski of the Amityville Village Police Department based at Greene Lane, received a call from his control room to attend 112 Ocean Avenue, where there had been a report of a shooting. As he drove up to the house, he saw a group of young men standing in the driveway, and one of them tearfully introduced himself as Ronald DeFeo. He said, ‘My mother and father are dead.’
‘I went into the house and climbed the stairs,’ said the officer. ‘In the master bedroom, I found a white male lying on his stomach, and he had been shot dead. Next to him was a white female in the same position, and she had been shot to death. I proceeded to a second bedroom where I discovered two young boys in separate beds. They were lying on their stomachs and they had been shot dead. I came downstairs and used the dining room telephone to call my headquarters and informed them that there were four bodies in the house, and they should notify the First Squad Detectives.’
Continuing his account, the policeman added, ‘Almost immediately, Ronald DeFeo told me that he had two sisters. Evidently he had heard me talking over the telephone, and with that, I ran back upstairs and checked a bedroom door that had been closed. I found a young girl’s body there. She was lying, like the others, spread-eagled on her stomach. She was shot dead, too. And I seen a staircase, that I thought led to an attic, which actually led to another bedroom upstairs on the third floor, and I found another female body there. I immediately came back downstairs, re-called my headquarters and advised them I had two more bodies. After that call I went into the kitchen. I stood there with Ronald DeFeo and his friend Robert Kelske, and I put my hand on his shoulder and just told him to take it easy. I stood there and waited until Detective Sergeant Cammaroto and Lieutenant Edward Lowe turned up. They just checked the scene and they came back downstairs, too, and it was shortly thereafter that the homicide detectives arrived. It was a scene that I’ll never forget, and it haunts me to this day.’
At the autopsy, the medical examiner, Dr Howard Aldeman, determined that, Ronald DeFeo Sr, aged 43, had been shot twice in the lower back. The bullets went through the kidney and spine. One stopped in the neck and the other ploughed through the body and on to the mattress. Death was most likely instantaneous since he had stayed on the mattress and did not crawl out of bed.
Louise DeFeo, aged 42, had been shot twice. The gunfire that had killed her husband seems to have awakened Butch’s mother, and she was turning in her bed towards the doorway. The first bullet entered her back, exited through her chest, re-entered her left breast and wrist before landing in the mattress. The second bullet destroyed her right lung, diaphragm and liver. Death most likely occurred in a matter of seconds, since she never put up a struggle.
Mark DeFeo, aged 12, and John DeFeo, aged 7, had been shot once. From the evidence, the medical examiner determined that their killer stood less than two feet from the boys when he discharged the gun. Bullets penetrated the heart, lungs, diaphragm and liver of each victim. In addition, John’s spinal cord was severed, causing involuntary movements of his lower body.
Allison DeFeo, aged 13, had been shot once. Like her mother, she had awakened and turned her head towards the doorway. The bullet smashed upward from her left cheek to her right ear, entering the brain and skull. The bullet exited, hitting the wall and bounced on the floor where it came to rest. Death was instantaneous, and powder burns on Allison’s eyes indicated that she was awake at the time of her murder and staring down the barrel of a gun.
Dawn DeFeo, aged 18, had been shot once. Her killer had stood less than three feet away and fired at the back of her neck. The bullet entered the left ear and collapsed the left side of her face. Brain particles soaked the pillow and the sheets were covered with menstrual blood.
In Dr Aldeman’s opinion, it appeared from the evidence that this was a gangland-style execution, and that at least three or four people had been involved with the control of the victims and their murders.
* * *
From the outset, Ronald Defeo was known to have a police record. He was a drug user, currently on probation for stealing an outboard motor. He was first interviewed at the scene of the shootings at 6.55pm by Detective Gaspar Randazzo, who had been working with the First Squad Detectives for eight years. Randazzo asked the sole survivor to account for his movements that day. DeFeo replied, ‘I went to work and, upon coming home, I found the door locked. I figured there might have been something wrong because the doors were locked and I saw my parents’ cars outside the house. I went back to the bar and spoke to Robert Kelske. I went back to the house, forced a window, and found the bodies of my family. I was scared, so I ran out and drove back to the bar for help. Then we all drove back and Joe called the police.’
Shortly after the interview began, Reverend McNamara arrived to administer last rites to the victims.
At 7.15pm, Detectives Gozaloff, Napolitano, Shirvell, Grieco, Harrison, Reichert and Detective Sergeant Barylski, all of the First Homicide Squad, arrived on the scene. They obtained permission to use the house next door, home to the Ireland family, as a command post. DeFeo was asked to leave the scene, and he was escorted next door where Detective Gozaloff spoke to him.
Asked who might have shot his family, Butch told the detective that a man named Louis Falini had a grudge against his folks. He was a Mafia hit-man, and he could be the murderer.
‘I had an argument with Falini,’ he said. ‘I called him a cocksucker and that caused problems between him and my father.’
DeFeo pledged his full co-operation and agreed to go to the First Precinct, calling beforehand at the Amityville Police Station to complete the paperwork that relieved the Amityville Police of jurisdiction over the murders.
On arrival at the First Precinct, Detective Gozaloff interviewed DeFeo in more depth. Butch explained that he worked for his father, who was the Service Manager of Karl-Brigante Buick in Brooklyn, and that his grandfather, Mike Brigante, was the owner.
He described the layout of his home in some detail. That night, he said that he was up late watching a film called Castle Keep. He fell asleep watching the television around 2.00am, and awoke at 4.00am with stomach pains. He remembered walking past the upstairs bathroom, and noticed that his brother’s wheelchair was in front of the door. Mark could only walk on crutches following an injury playing football, Butch explained. He also claimed to have heard the toilet flush. Since he couldn’t get back to sleep, he decided to go to work early, and went on to describe what he had been doing until the time he discovered the bodies.
After Butch submitted his signed statement, the detectives continued to question him about his family and the suggestion that Falini might be the killer. Butch replied that Falini had lived with them for a period of time, during which he had helped Butch and his father carve out a hiding place in the basement where Ronald Sr kept a stash of gems and cash. His argument with Falini had stemmed from an incident during which Falini criticised some work Butch had done at the auto dealership. Butch also voluntarily confessed to being a casual user of heroin, and admitted that he had set one of his father’s boats on fire so that an insurance claim could be made r
ather than paying for the motor, which Butch had originally blown up. The detectives finished their questioning at around 3.00am and Butch went to sleep on a cot in a filing room at the back of the police station. DeFeo had given every appearance of a co-operative witness and, so far, the detectives had no reason to hold him under suspicion of murder.
The circumstances began to change, though, as investigators intensified their examination of physical evidence, both at the crime scene and in the police laboratory. A crucial discovery was made ataround 2.30am on 15 November, when Detective John Shirvell conducted a last sweep through the DeFeo bedrooms. The rooms where the murders had taken place had been scoured thoroughly, while Ronald’s room had, up to that point, been given only a cursory once-over. But, on closer scrutiny, Detective Shirvell spotted a pair of empty rectangular boxes, each with labels describing their contents as .22 and .35 Marlin rifles. Shirvell was unaware that a .35-calibre Marlin had been the murder weapon, but he took the boxes anyway in the event that they may become important evidence. Indeed, they were!
Shortly after returning to the police headquarters, with the boxes, he learned exactly what make of weapon had been used in the shootings, because a firearms examiner had identified the calibre of the murder weapon. Detective Sergeant Della Penna had wasted no time in examining the spent shell casings and the bullets used to kill the DeFeo family. He had determined that powder residue found at the scene was partially burnt particles of nitrocellulose gunpowder. The spent lead-jacketed bullets were of .35-calibre Remington Arms manufacture, and were originally components of Western Co .35-calibre cartridge cases.
Talking with Serial Killers Page 16
