Talking with Serial Killers

by Christopher Berry-Dee

  Rushing upstairs, they located the bodies of the DeFeos with the exception of Dawn, whom they found in her third-floor bedroom, dressed in a nightgown, and cradling the .35-calibre Marlin rifle. Butch made a grab for the gun and, in the struggle that followed, his sister was shot in the head. Butch and Richard disposed of the weapon and the other incriminating evidence in the manner later explained to the police.

  Geraldine DeFeo recalled that during the early morning of the murders, Butch had woken her up and had told her what had happened. He then left the house and that was the last she saw of him until his trial. She also recalled that her brother had confirmed the story, saying, ‘I have got to leave and get away otherwise I am going to get fitted up for something I didn’t do.’

  Richard, who now lives under an assumed name in Florida, has since got married and has a son. ‘I know what I saw’, he told the author, ‘and what Ronnie says is the truth. Problem is that my wife knows nothing about this, and I don’t trust the police.’

  Geraldine DeFeo has since been threatened, pushed to the ground, arrested and released by the police for conspiracy in the Amityville slayings. The officer involved was Detective Dennis Rafferty.

  If DeFeo’s claims of innocence were to stand up, it was vital that two forensic issues were resolved. First and foremost was the matter of DeFeo’s clothing that was contaminated with a small trace of blood. Detective Rafferty claimed that this was Dawn’s blood, an assumption he had arrived at solely because the suspect had said he had picked up a blood-covered cartridge case and wiped it on his shirt and jeans. For his part, DeFeo says, ‘This was an outright lie by Rafferty. The blood on my clothes was mine from the several beatings given to me by the Suffolk County Police. DNA testing can easily prove this because they still have the clothing.’

  For many years, DeFeo has argued that it was his sister who killed the family, and that he shot Dawn, during the struggle, when he tried to retrieve the weapon, so the second issue revolves around Dawn’s nightgown and the traces it bore of unburned gunpowder, indicating that she must have fired the .35-calibre Marlin rifle at least once that fateful night.

  At the autopsy, it was proved that the single bullet that had killed her had been fired at a distance of about three feet. This discounts any possibility that Dawn had shot herself, which leaves only one outstanding question: which member, or members, of the family did she shoot dead?

  In June 1992, DeFeo’s request for a motion for discovery and re-examination of the nightdress was heard before Judge Stark who said that if DeFeo could fund the tests, and if the clothing was still in existence, he would order further forensic examinations.

  Gerald L Lotto, acting for DeFeo, had received $10,000 from his client’s grandmother, Angela Brigante, for DNA and gunpowder analysis. This money was now in an escrow account and, therefore, satisfied the first part of the Judge’s ruling. Lotto’s task was now to ascertain the whereabouts of Dawn’s nightdress. In reply, Assistant District Attorney Karen Petterson twice told the court, under the penalty of perjury, that the garments had been destroyed. Perhaps her deceit weighed heavily on her, for several days later, her colleague, Barbara Rose, wrote a letter to the Judge that significantly watered down Petterson’s claim. Again, under penalty of perjury, Assistant DA Rose said, ‘The clothing is no longer in the possession of the Suffolk County District Attorney’s Office, nor the Suffolk County Police Department.’

  On 21 August 1991, an investigator working on another case had reason to visit the Suffolk County Police Property Evidence Bureau at Yaphank. While rummaging around, and quite by accident, Dennis O’Doherty discovered two boxes marked ‘DeFeo’. They contained Dawn’s nightdress, a bag of bullets and DeFeo’s clothing, comprising a pair of black and blue socks, construction boots, brown work uniform, pair of blue jeans, plaid shirt, three printed pillow cases and one blood-stained pillow case.

  Several days after this discovery, Karen Petterson wrote to Judge Stark, apologising, and explaining, ‘… the clothing was found due to the ongoing efforts of the DA’s office and the police department’, which was yet another distortion of the truth. With the funding for tests in place, and the clothing re-discovered, Judge Stark was legally obliged to honour his ruling, except that he chose not to.

  The evidence in question is still in existence today and, when interviewed during the research for this book, Dennis Rafferty said, ‘Not a chance in Hell. This stuff [the clothing] will never be looked at again. We’ll make sure of that.’

  * * *

  In reality, Ronald DeFeo Jr is a short, insignificant little man with a blood-drenched reputation. Ferret-faced, with a good physique, he angrily argued his case of innocence for two hours, during his interview as part of the research for this book, but doubts that he will ever be released from prison. So what do we understand about Ronald DeFeo?

  We know that he was, and still is, an illiterate and bullying thug: characteristics which he shares with many individuals who are not criminals. We know that he was addicted to heroin: again, hardly an unusual occurrence in today’s society. We know that telling lies was routine, commonplace behaviour for him. He manufactured countless versions of the crimes, in a manner so characteristic of serial killers and mass murderers. Yet none of these qualities necessarily makes a multiple murderer. The main problem is that DeFeo cried ‘wolf’ too many times, so who would believe a word he says today? He is a liar through and through.

  More recently, Butch argued that he did not throw the rifle into the dock. ‘I did not throw the .35 Marlin rifle in the water,’ he wrote in a letter, ‘nor did I realise that he [Richard] threw it there.’ When shown the map of the dock and the drawings made by the police, which were initialled by him, I asked Butch how the police diver managed to locate the exact location of the rifle so quickly, when no one had told them where it was? He contradicted himself saying, ‘I told them it was behind my house because I didn’t want to be beat up any more.’

  When pressed about the diagrams, he changed his story again: ‘The Marlin rifle was found after I was in the Suffolk County Jail, so there is no way I told the police. I never knew where the gun was thrown and that’s the truth. And I never signed any diagrams. I initialled blank pieces of yellow paper only.’

  What do we know about the trial and surrounding circus? If we know nothing else, we know that many questions, possibly of grave importance, were both unasked and unanswered. Even today, the issues raised by the bloodstained clothing and unburned powder found on Dawn’s nightdress, which could so easily be resolved, remain in the realms of mystery.

  We know about the strange conversation between Butch’s grandfather and another thug. This was recorded on tape by the police, and included references, among other unsavoury topics, to the murder of Butch in prison. We know that the police investigation and the resultant convictions were concluded in a very untidy manner, clearly just to get the job done. Yet none of these qualities necessarily makes a false conviction.

  With the exception of any startling new evidence which might appear to dispel public anxieties about the behaviour of those in authority, it is clear that at least some of the police, lawyers and one judge involved in the case, acted unethically, if not illegally. To assume otherwise would blind oneself to the true nature of the American judicial system. Disturbing though this may be, it does not necessarily entail a false conviction. Nevertheless, William E Weber seemed to do very well for himself out of the DeFeo case.

  Over a few bottles of wine, during the evening after Butch was sentenced on 4 December 1974, Weber and the new owners of ‘High Hopes’, George and Kathleen Lutz, cooked up a story that shocked the world. The house was haunted, they said, possessed by the evil spirit of a long-dead Shinnecock Indian chief and, of course, had been built on an ancient Indian burial ground. It was this story that subsequently became the movie, The Amityville Horror. Once the Lutz’s realised now much money was involved, they decided to cut Weber out of the deal. In turn, he filed a lawsuit in the US Distr
ict court in Brooklyn, presided over by Judge Jack B Weinstein.

  In his decision, the Judge stated, ‘… the canons and ethics of law prevent Mr Weber from being involved in Mr DeFeo’s criminal case and his appeals, while at the same time being involved in movie deals, books etc …’

  As a result of this ruling, Weber had to settle for a small amount of money out of court but it did not prevent him taking $20,000 from DeFeo’s relatives for appeals of the conviction. Nor did it stop him from finding other ways to profit from the Amityville tragedy. He teamed up with Professor Hans Holzer, a ghost-hunter from England. Together, they wrote a book called, Murder in Amityville, which, subsequently became the motion picture, Amityville II – The Possession.

  Was one of Butch’s stories true and, if so, which account can we believe? Did he stumble upon some kind of gangland execution in progress. This is feasible to the extent that the medical examiner was convinced that at least three people had been involved with the subduing and shooting of the victims. But if this was the case, is it not likely that Butch would have been shot along with the rest of his family? Who else, incidentally, knew about the .35-calibre Marlin lever-action rifle that belonged to him? Were there conspirators who wanted a pawn, someone trained to passivity and dependence, who would take the blame for them? Why, then, the long silence from Butch and his friends until 20 or so years after the crimes were committed?

  An answer may lie in the fact that each and every one of Butch’s close friends, including his estranged wife, were threatened, bullied and even assaulted by the police at the time. Many of these police officers, including Detective Lieutenant Robert Dunn and Detective Dennis Rafferty were still employed with the Suffolk County Police at the time this book was being researched. Perhaps these witnesses had every reason to fear reprisals from law officers who survived immense criticism, only to resurface, unscathed, many years later. Another factor is that DeFeo came from a family with strong links to organised crime and the Mafia. Is it any wonder that Richard Romondoe, for example, went into hiding and assumed a false identity?

  * * *

  George and Kathy Lutz moved into 112 Ocean Avenue on December 18. Twenty-eight days later, they fled in terror.

  So begins Chapter One of Jay Anson’s novel The Amityville Horror. Written as a work of non-fiction, the book purports to relate the day-to-day events that drove the new residents of ‘High Hopes’ from their home in terror. The book became a runaway bestseller and was made into a popular movie starring Rod Steiger, Margot Kidder and James Brolin.

  Their fantastic story, never disclosed in full detail, makes for an unforgettable book with all the shocks and gripping suspense of The Exorcist, The Omen or Rosemary’s Baby, but with one vital difference … the story is true … reads the trailer on the book’s back cover. In truth, the entire book and subsequent movies were little more than fiction. Nevertheless, the Lutzes brief stay and claims of supernatural activity at High Hopes thrust Amityville and 112 Ocean Avenue into the world spotlight. For more than 30 years, the house has stood as an icon of terror, erasing the happier times that any family had enjoyed inside the charming Dutch colonial property. Eventually, the notoriety the Lutzes had heaped upon themselves paid them back. Pestered by sightseers, and turned into pariahs in their own decent community, they were forced to move out. On 30 August 1976, they returned their home to Columbia Savings and Loan, instead of returning to live in it, or selling it to another family in the normal way.

  On 18 March 1977, Jim and Barbara Cromarty purchased the house for a mere $55,000, quite unaware of its infamous reputation. When they learned about its recent history, they were forced to change the address to 108, and add a fake window to the front of the building. Determined as they were to make their home part of the community again, the Cromartys were bombarded with hordes of tourists looking for ghosts and demons. Eventually, the fans proved unbearable and they put the house on the market and moved out.

  The Cromartys left Frank Birch to tend to the property, and act as house-sitter while they were away. Neither Mr Birch, nor the Cromartys ever reported supernatural occurrences in the house. The family eventually moved back in and took the house off the market. They remained there until 1987, when David Roskin, Barbara’s son from a previous marriage, passed away unexpectedly.

  On 17 August 1987, Peter and Jeanne O’Neill bought 108 Ocean Avenue for an unspecified amount. They lived happily there until 1997, when they were forced to sell the place because of the high taxes associated with it, which amounted to $7,000 a year. According to friends, they chose to spend the money on their children’s college education, rather than give it to the tax collector.

  On 10 June 1997, Brian Wilson purchased the house for $310,000. At the time of writing, he resides there with his wife and two children, who attend college. Mr Wilson says that he is very happy with the house and has no complaints. In fact, he has invested in the property by restoring the boathouse and improving the accommodation. When I visited ‘High Hopes’ I asked Brian Wilson whether perhaps, he might consider at some time in the future to replacing the spooky quarter-moon windows on the third floor?

  He smiled and said, ‘Maybe’.

  This chapter is based on an exclusive videotaped interview with Christopher Berry-Dee and Ronald Joseph ‘Butch’ DeFeo within the Greenhaven Correctional Facility, Stormville, New York, on Friday, 23 September 1974, and extensive correspondence.

  Ronald DeFeo welcomes correspondence, and his address is: Inmate #75-A-4053, Drawer B, Greenhaven CF, Stormville, NY 12582–0010.

  AILEEN

  CAROL

  WUORNOS

  USA

  ‘I’ve got respect for myself. Always did have. Weird, right?’

  AILEEN WUORNOS TO CHRISTOPHER BERRY-DEE

  Aileen (Lee) Carol Wuornos arrived at the Broward Correctional Institute, Pembroke Pines, Florida, on 31 January 1992. Lying mid-way between Fort Lauderdale and Miami, Broward is a prison for women at which Death Row is sited in a large grey building, trimmed in pink and bordered with tropical flowers. Here, Aileen Wuornos joined the State’s five other women who live in cells that look like drum-tight submarine hatches, a shower room down the hall, a caged outdoor exercise yard with a basketball loop, and additional cells apiece for future residents. Also located on the ‘row’ is a room designed as the ‘death-watch’ cell where inmates are housed 24 hours prior to execution. Death is now delivered by lethal injection, at the Florida State Prison, Starke.

  At the time of writing, there are currently 47 women condemned to die in the United States. Working alone or with a partner, they have been convicted of killing their husbands, children, boyfriends and strangers. A large percentage have well-documented histories of physical or sexual abuse, as well as drug and alcohol addictions. More than half are white. Many are mothers with school-age children. Few have murdered for monetary gain. The majority live in specially-designed cell-blocks separated from the main prison population, and where their movement is greatly restricted.

  Compared to their male counterparts, numbered in the hundreds throughout the penal system, women comprise only about 2 per cent of the nation’s felons who have been condemned to death. California, Florida and Oklahoma have the largest number of women on Death Row. A handful of other states, such as Idaho, have only one condemned woman and must grapple with a unique problem because most States are mandated by law to segregate women from the regular male prison population.

  No woman has been put to death in the United States since the execution, in Texas, of Karla Faye Tucker on 3 February 1998. This was the first time the Lone Star State had executed a woman since the Civil War. Tucker was convicted of the murders of 27-year-old Jerry Lynn Dean and his companion, 32-year-old Deborah Thornton, at their apartment on Watonga Drive in north-east Houston, on 13 June 1983. Her weapon was a pick-axe.

  * * *

  Aileen (Lee) Carol Wuornos was born in a leap year on 29 February 1956, in Clinton Hospital Detroit, Michigan, to teenage parents
, Diane Wuornos, just 16 years old, and 19-year-old handyman, Leo Dale Pittman.

  The marriage, which proved to be tumultuous, ended a few months before Lee was born, leaving the young Diane to raise the new baby and her older brother, Keith. Lee never knew her father, who was jailed on charges of kidnapping, rape and child molestation. He fashioned a noose from a bed sheet and hanged himself in prison. Lee was 15 years old at the time.

  Diane soon found the responsibilities of single motherhood unbearable and, when Lee was six months old, her mother left home and never returned. Diane did, however, call her parents, asking them to pick up the children.

  Laurie Wuornos, a Ford factory worker, and his wife, Eileen Britta, subsequently adopted both children. Their home was an unprepossessing one-storey building. Its wood cladding was a sad yellow colour, sited amidst a cluster of trees, away from the roadside in suburban Troy, Michigan. Innocent looking and otherwise unremarkable, the house was nevertheless a place of secrets. Near neighbours who were never once invited to set foot inside, even for casual pleasantries, recall the curtains always being tightly drawn across the small windows of the Wuornos house. The outside world was held very much at arm’s length.

  Laurie and Britta raised Lee and Keith with their own children, but they did not reveal that they were, in fact, the children’s grandparents.

  Behind those shaded windows, frequent clashes of will took place between young Lee and her adoptive father. The omnipresent third party was a wide, brown leather belt, with Western-style tooling, that he kept hanging on a peg behind his bedroom door. At his bidding, this strap was cleaned, almost ritualistically, by Aileen with saddle soap and conditioner which were kept in the dresser drawer.