Born to Lose (39 page)

To the question of pending charges, Dunn said Hoss faced two kidnapping indictments, one in Pennsylvania, the other in Maryland.

Q. The Pennsylvania indictment is in relation to what victim?

A. Karen Maxwell.

Q. And the indictment lodged in Maryland is with relation to what?

A. Mrs. Linda Mae Peugeot and her daughter Lori Mae Peugeot.

This virgin mention of the name Peugeot brought a murmur in the courtroom, but it died away as Strauss reached for his gavel.

Baxter began his cross.

Q. When you say indicted, Agent Dunn, you of course mean that my client has not been tried on those charges, don't you?

A. That's correct.

Next up was Shirley Clites, the woman whose car had been parked beside Linda Peugeot's in the Kings parking lot. She had watched the kidnapping, uneasy, but unable at the time to interpret what she was seeing. When investigator Bill Baker called to say she was needed in the penalty phase of the Zanella trial, Clites recalled, he “asked me if I wanted to fly to Pittsburgh by helicopter. I said no, and made my sister-in-law, Shelby, go with me. Bill drove us. I was only a few weeks from my delivery date.”

Fagan led Clites with questions meant to place her, the Peugeots, and Hoss on the same few square yards of parking lot asphalt. “They had me sit down at a table and Hoss sat across from me for a few minutes. I was so scared my voice was cracking and I almost cried.”

Three other witnesses testified about the circumstances in front of Kings, but only the trembling Mrs. Clites could say positively that Hoss was the kidnapper.

Fagan then led Linda's cousin, Norman Gordon, to say that around 1:00 P.M. on September 22, 1969, he had seen Linda driving west on Route 40. Gordon had assumed Linda was on her way to visit his wife, but she never visited that day.

Q. Since the date you reference, Mr. Gordon, has anyone in the family seen Linda or her daughter?

A. No, sir.

Several jurors looked over at each other. It was a spooky moment.

At yet another sidebar, Baxter complained to Strauss, “If we're going to
try this case, I want the time to prepare to try it. On voir dire we didn't get into the Peugeots. I have no knowledge of the crime.”

Strauss reiterated that the present testimony related only to the matter of penalty, “and I assume the prosecution will follow by certain admissions made by the defendant.”

“That is right,” said Fagan, “that is the purpose.”

“Mr. Baxter, your objection is overruled,” delivered Strauss.

Fagan wanted to show “possession” of a victim. He did so through the testimony of Zeedith Hoover, the waitress at the Idlewood Restaurant in Franklin, Pennsylvania. “In the late evening of September 22,” Hoover divulged, “a man and a little girl sat in the dining room. I brought a high chair over and lifted the girl into it.”

Zeedith Hoover was asked to view an 8 x 10-inch photograph of Linda and Lori together.

Q. Do you recognize either of the subjects?

A. The little girl, it is the little girl who was in the restaurant.

Q. Who was the man who had her there?

A. They showed me pictures later. I identified him as Stanley Hoss.

Q. Do you see him in the room?

“He is there,” said the waitress, pointing. “The man in the dark suit.”

It was damning testimony, and for once Baxter sat still.

Fagan then directed Captain Joe Start's attention to photo exhibit 42, which depicted Pennsylvania license plate 9N3119 inside the GTO trunk.

Q. To whom was that license registered?

A. It was issued to Gerald and Linda Peugeot, at that time living at 464 Third Avenue in Beaver, Pennsylvania.

Other photo exhibits were produced that showed numerous blood stains on the front bucket seats and an equally cruentous trunk.

Fagan drew the prosecution's penalty phase to a close with testimony from Agent Danny Dunn. Fagan first asked Dunn to clarify whether he had safeguarded Hoss's legal rights. “Yes, sir,” said Dunn, “Mr. Hoss was advised by me of certain constitutional rights known as Miranda Rights. He executed a waiver of these rights.”

Q. In your interrogation about the missing Mrs. Peugeot and her daughter, what did Mr. Hoss say happened?

A. He said he abducted them.

Q. Did he say what happened to Mrs. Peugeot?

A. He said he killed her the same afternoon he took her.

Q. And what happened to the child?

A. He said he shot the child dead.

Baxter's last swipe at the state's case was to have Dunn agree that Hoss had never had the opportunity to defend himself against such charges.

Minahan said later of the effort, “We went through Hoss's methods from first crime to apprehension as his modus operandi. The mother and child were a continuum of that M.O. We had to have evidence of his depravity which would justify the supreme penalty, and I can say to you we had it all.”

Still at the hospital, Edgar Snyder would not be back for a shot at saving the life of his client. In the savior's role, Baxter approached the jury for a Hail Mary.

“Good day, Doctor,” Baxter opened, “would you state your name and occupation?”

“Sherman W. Pochapin. I am a psychiatrist.”

Pochapin said he had been retained by Messrs. Snyder and Baxter and would receive compensation for his testimony. Pochapin had twice met with Hoss. Projective tests were employed to unearth unconscious or deeper reasons for his behavior.

“As to diagnosis,” said Pochapin, “Mr. Hoss falls into the category of Character Behavior Disorder. In simplest terms, Mr. Hoss is a psychopath. Before the turn of the century, the condition was called ‘Moral Insanity' but seventy or eighty years ago the current term came to use.” Elucidating further, Pochapin said a psychopath has difficulties with society, trouble following rules, insensitivity to others, and, in general, is inconsiderate, selfish, and self-centered. “A psychopath does not learn from experience,” the doctor continued, “suffers little guilt, if any, and has weak loyalties. It seems an important piece of humanness is absent.”

Q. Is psychopathy a sudden manifestation?

A. No, it's a lifetime process, beginning very early.

Q. Has treatment of psychopaths been successful?

A. It is probably the most dismal area in psychiatry.

Fagan remained seated while Don Minahan handled the cross-examination. Minihan skillfully got Pochapin to qualify his description of psychopaths: “Not all murderers are psychopathic. Take, for instance, a crime of passion or, say, a hired killer, the greed motivating,” but it was when Pochapin talked at length of the differences between character behavior disorder, mental illness, the psychopathic paranoid, and the severe neurotic that he lost his audience. Everyone in the room got confused, and the jury's attention drifted away from the learned fifty-five-year-old psychiatrist.

Finally, Minahan asked, “Doctor, does Stanley Hoss know the difference between right and wrong?”

“He absolutely knows the difference between right and wrong,” answered Pochapin.

This response was too clear for Baxter's liking. It also was one any mill worker or barber in Verona—or any juror—could sink his teeth into.

Summoned first for the sympathy vote was the ever-interesting Jodine.

“Miss Fawkes,” asked Baxter in his most soothing voice, “can you say what Stanley was like, in your opinion?” In a simple black dress, hem to the knee, Jodine took a noticeable breath before speaking.

A. Stanley is a wonderful man to me. He treats my kids real good and he opens the door for me and changes the kids' diapers, feeds them. He is just wonderful.

Q. I take it you love him?

A. Yes I do.

Betty Matecka was for the most part an unknown to trial followers. Only some family members, and a few FBI agents, suspected that Betty's relationship with Stanley was anything more than merely that of older sister, but whatever she was to him, she'd gallantly defend him.

Betty was thirty-one years old, married, with children. She was of fair complexion and possessed a well-favored figure and a face intriguing if not beautiful. She wore a simple dress, a modest blue-print affair.

Q. You were raised with Stanley most of your life?

A. All my life … and I call him Stan.

Q. Would you tell this jury about your brother?

A. No matter what I say, you won't believe me because I am his sister. Naturally I am going to say what I feel. You can't understand this but as I remember, I've never, ever seen my brother violent. We were raised most of our life on
a farm. We had animals, all kinds, everything, he was constantly bringing things home. He didn't care much for hunting. If you want an idea of his killing aspect, he was very gentle. I never knew him to be violent, never.

Q. Do you love your brother?

A. Very much. At the time this happened I was due to have a child and the shock of that, the disbelief was so bad I almost lost the child, and I don't care what these people say, he couldn't never have done nothing like that. He wouldn't, no, he wouldn't.

The last witness produced for the jury was the convicted man's father, Stanley Hoss Sr.

“Well, he is a young boy, we lived on a farm all the time,” said the dad, nervous and halting. “I bought him anything he wanted, animals, and I was always good to him, never knowed the boy to be mean.”

“Are you saying you've never known your son to be violent?” asked Baxter.

The father, in his cheap grey suit, finished up inarticulately. “That's right. I seen that boy trap a squirrel in the woods an' bring it home an' raise it 'cause it was hurt an' in a trap. As to killin' anyone, truth to tell, I don't think he did it 'cause he never liked to hunt, never had a gun around the place or anything like that.”

Baxter stood before the jury, asking them to save a life. “I have never had so much riding on what I am to say. I ask you [to] show mercy for a human being. You have just listened to family members who said they love Stanley. Did you see their grief? He has children, and he cares for them.”

Baxter walked slowly to the end of the jury box. “Stanley Hoss should not be sentenced to die. If you want vengeance, then do just that … but is this the type of society that says since a man can't be cured let's see him dead? No, I don't think that is the basis for our society.”

Baxter returned to the exact center of the jury box. He asked the jurors not to be swayed by testimony they'd heard concerning the Peugeots, then, with one last tug to pull the jurors to his corner, he implored, “Show mercy to this son, father, and husband…. Please spare the life of Stanley Hoss.”

Returning to the defense table, Baxter caught the eye of his client, who gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if to say, “You gave it a shot.”

In capital cases, the prosecution speaks last. Untold days of work culminated in this tip-scale moment for Ted Fagan. “There are those out there,” he told the jury, “who want the death penalty abolished—
except in the murder of a police officer
. That strikes at the foundation of our society.”

Less charismatic than Baxter, Fagan recapped the facts with common sense and reason. He reminded the jurors that Joe Zanella's death left a widow and two small children, then cited the rape conviction, and the kidnapping of Miss Maxwell and the Peugeots. “We
know
what Hoss is. He has been told time and again—don't do it or you can anticipate punishment. Now he says to you, ‘Don't hurt me.'”

Fagan gathered energy for a forceful close. “If there were ever circumstances for a death penalty, this is it. This is what this man has asked for. This has been his entire life … and there can be no deviation now.”

“Life imprisonment or death,” intoned Strauss. “Remember, you are not recommending punishment, you are fixing it in your verdict, which must be unanimous.”

The judge removed his reading glasses, gave a nod of appreciation to Fagan, Minahan, and Baxter, then returned his gaze to the jury: “May the Almighty give you strength and courage to do what is right and just in this case.”

The jury retired at 2:05 P.M. on this cloudy Tuesday afternoon, March 10, 1970. They could have been out a while, days … but after a single hour, in a courtroom shocker, word whisked everywhere that a decision had been reached. People who'd drifted down corridors or into offices or across the street for a glass of beer hustled back to the courtroom. Hoss was hurriedly returned, and only minutes afterward the jury filed in.

Strauss checked to see that all principals were present, and waited a few minutes for the capacity crowd and the journalists to get settled. Also, by this time, Edgar Snyder had made it back from the hospital, several hours after his new daughter, Jennifer, had finally made her appearance at noon. As if by wand, the courtroom fell still and hushed. “I could hear Mr. Fagan's shoe-leather creak,” remembered juror Nina Drummer.

Foreperson Vee Toner faced the judge. “Your Honor, having heretofore determined the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree, we now fix the penalty at death.”

A rising crescendo of whispers, words, and even a few shouts swelled until the tipstaff waved for quiet. Edgar Snyder was on his feet, requesting that the jury be polled. Blank-faced but sitting up straight and appraising the jurors, Hoss listened to twelve nails pound into his coffin.

During the polling, Hoss occasionally returned the stare of a juror, but for the most part his eyes wandered to the ceiling and back, hands clasped in his lap. He rocked nervously in his swivel chair but wore the enigmatic smile that had become his courtroom trademark.

District Attorney Robert Duggan sat at counsel table. At his first appearance at the trial, he heard the first death sentence of his term. Later, Duggan praised the police work in the case. He failed to mention the FBI.

The press tables emptied as newsmen and reporters raced for the phones and began crafting their stories. Jodine rushed up to Snyder and Baxter. Would they appeal? Fagan and Minahan were surrounded. “The type of case we had,” said Fagan, “the jury could only return a death verdict. The jury's decision shows the death penalty is still here and it should be here.”