Edgar Snyder never outright denied that his client killed Joe Zanella; he only implied that the prosecution’s case was feeble, its evidence flimsy, and— in short, that it hadn’t proved a thing. Snyder knew otherwise, of course, but, in his summation, his power of suggestion and bulldog advocacy was meant to cast doubt on the degree of Hoss’s guilt, soften perceptions of his client’s murderous intentions, and diminish the emotional reactions of an excited jury.
“Who among the witnesses, I ask you, was sure of the shooter’s description?” Snyder queried, as though Esther Santone had never existed. “Crew cut, long hair … dark jersey, white T-shirt? And did you wonder about the demeanor of witness Fred Mangol, who said he saw my client in Winky’s restaurant shortly before the shooting?” Snyder placed his hand over his heart as he added, “I had no trouble seeing Mr. Mangol’s animosity toward my client as he answered questions which—could you tell?—were carefully rehearsed.” Snyder then recalled Miss Maxwell’s frequent smiles during testimony. Snyder arched his brows. “Did she look like a girl who’d been victimized for eighteen hours … and how often had she been left alone but made no attempt to leave?”
After taking swipes at everything and everyone, Snyder likened the prosecution’s case to a puzzle where “all the pieces don’t seem to fit in right,” and concluded with an emphatic, “What has been testified to is not true beyond a reasonable doubt!”
In a summation lasting only fifteen minutes, compared with Snyder’s full hour, Fagan adamantly asserted that the shooting of Zanella was murder in the first degree. “This is one of the few cases in my experience where we have given you everything except a recording and picture of what was going on. And of Mr. Snyder’s remark about Karen Maxwell? She is a young girl who has been scared half to death by Stanley Hoss. If she smiled occasionally on the stand it was nothing more than a nervous reaction, but remember well Hoss’s words to her … ‘I’m the one who killed the Verona policeman.’”
The lean-jawed rep for the people pointed directly at Hoss. “Because of the defendant’s outlook on society and disregard of others, a man is dead. It is murder in the first degree. This is no time to worry about Stanley Hoss. It’s time to worry about you and me.”
Beginning his jury instruction at 3:15 this Monday afternoon of March 9, 1970, it took Judge Strauss a full two hours to explain to the jury the possible decisions it could reach, and to review the testimony of the fifty-four prosecution witnesses.
The jury went out at 6:45 P.M. Few of those waiting ventured too far away, as a quick verdict was expected. Short of three hours later, the jury returned—with a unanimous decision. To all gathered, the tipstaff cautioned against outbursts. Standing while all others were seated, Foreperson Vee Toner announced, “The decision of the jury is murder in the first degree.”
Hoss showed a slight smile. His father appeared shaken while his sister Betty wept, as did Jodine and another of Hoss’s girlfriends, known only as JoAnn. If there were other tears, they were of relief and joy. Officer Zanella’s widow, only twenty-three years old, had been seated in the front row throughout the trial but was not present for the guilty verdict.
Edgar Snyder requested a poll of the jurors, at which court clerk Howard Roth instructed, “Juror, look upon the defendant. Defendant, look upon the juror. Guilty or innocent, how say you?” Hoss stared at each juror as he listened to a dozen individual affirmations of his guilt.
Hoss was tried under the Split Verdict Act, meaning that the same jurors who had found him guilty would hear aggravating or mitigating circumstances before settling his fate—life in prison or death. Strauss told the jury not to contemplate their additional duties but to “get a good night’s sleep.”
Although the hour was late and the penalty phase was to begin next morning at 9:30, the attorneys and scores of others repaired across the street to the Common Plea Restaurant, a popular hangout for the legal crowd, for well-earned drinks and the first-rate veal capriccioso. Snyder and Baxter took a table at one end of the restaurant, while Fagan and Minahan were seated at the other end of the tastefully appointed room. Both parties were surrounded and peppered with questions and comments. If any of the attorneys spoke directly of the trial off the record, that status was respected by the reporters.
Through a haze of cigar smoke, the fun-loving Freddie Baxter said to an out-of-town newsman, “Do ya know what us attorneys call this joint, the Common Plea, if we’re in here beggin’ to cut a deal?” Baxter blew out a ring of smoke, then said, smiling … “The Common please!” Asked about the judge, Baxter said, “Lordy, makes you jump through hoops, does he not? But ol’ Sammy is razor sharp, tough but fair, and everyone knows his experience … tried more murder cases than anyone ever in the whole damn county! I’ll tell ya, if you have a really sound psychiatric case before him—and I mean babbling to Martians—he may weaken, but otherwise, with Strauss you go in on your knees or come out swinging.”
To those gathered round, Snyder laughed when telling how Strauss had threatened once during the trial “to put me in the same jail cell with my client.” Asked if Hoss wants to live, Snyder said, “Oh yes.” No sooner had he said that, than Snyder was called to the front phone. On his return to the table, he whispered in Baxter’s ear, grabbed his briefcase, and picked his way through the crowd to hurry out the door.
Never one to shy away from interesting conversation over drinks, newsman Bill Burns sat at the same table with prosecutors Fagan and Minahan. The celebrated KDKA anchorman always wanted the facts, the currency of his trade, but Burns also relished behind-the-scenes stories, back-room talk, and plain ol’ gossip, which is, as Burns explained, only half-joking, “pretty much always true, you know.” If there was one newsman who did not miss an hour’s testimony throughout the trial, it was Bill Burns. A law-and-order man, Burns made no secret of whose side he was on.
The prosecutors were flattered by his company and impressed by the depth of his questions. Indeed, it was only Burns who, voice lowered, asked Fagan if he planned to mention the “Maryland case” during the penalty phase “or do you think Zanella is enough?” With this single question Burns had pinpointed the prosecutors’ worries.
“If we knew for sure the jury’s resolve to give death for killing a policeman,” said Fagan to Burns, “then that’s all we need, but we don’t know that. Convicting someone is one thing, voting for death is another, so I’m thinking the jury should be as knowledgeable as we are about Mr. Hoss. Hoss is rare … but it’s for his type that we have a death penalty.”
Chuckling, Burns asked Minahan, “Does Mr. First Chair agree with your Chief Counsel?”
“Yep, think I do,” said Minahan. “Hoss is unredeemable. He’s broken, can’t be fixed. Even if he could be, so what? He’s done too much. It’s just too late.”
Burns nodded. “Good talking to you, gentlemen, and congratulations on the first degree.” Then he whispered, as he scooped his leather overcoat across a forearm, “We need a fitting end.” Fagan and Minahan watched the famous newsman limp (from an old war wound) toward the front door. He was due on the air in twenty minutes for KDKA’s late broadcast.
In the morning, Fred Baxter opened the penalty phase by asking Judge Strauss if it would be proper to mention why Edgar Snyder was absent from the courtroom. After leaving the Common Plea the night before, Snyder had driven directly to the hospital, where Stephanie, his wife of six years, was waiting in some discomfort to give birth to their second child. Snyder and his wife had been taken by surprise; the birth was happening three weeks early. The parents stayed up through the night, Stephanie in labor, and by the time Baxter spoke up in court, the baby still hadn’t arrived.
Strauss so informed the jury and explained that Baxter, as first chair, would now act in Snyder’s behalf.
Strauss then told the jurors it was time to affix penalty, explaining that each side would present testimony that might assist the jurors in determining the punishment to be inflicted.
During his crime spree, Hoss had committed a multitude of felonies— robbery, theft, rape, kidnap, weapons possession, murder. How much of these events and in what detail should or could the jury hear? Fagan, with Duggan’s blessing, decided the jury should hear a lot, so as never to be confused about the vicious hell-born creature in the docket and what would be, as Bill Burns put it, a fitting end. Fagan would do whatever was legally permissible to ensure that Hoss was given the death penalty.
Don Minahan was on board with the prosecution’s thrust, yet he had reservations. “Fagan’s thinking was legally correct,” remembered Minahan, “but we all felt there was a change in the wind about the Supreme Court’s view of capital punishment. Everyone knew they were poised to do an about-face with death sentences, and I felt they’d be looking for anything to overturn a death penalty. If we reviewed Hoss’s crimes from Zanella through apprehension, it may look like piling on. It was quite legal … but if the top court took a step in favor of the criminal … ? The lead counsel makes the call, so I just said okay.”
Leaving no stone unturned, Fagan’s “path to death” began with events before Zanella’s murder, when he called as witness Nancy Falconer, the pregnant woman that Hoss, with Richard Zurka, had threatened, bound, and robbed.
Before Fagan even formulated his first question to Nancy, Baxter objected to the testimony, a signal that each side, prosecution and defense, knew where the other was going, and were prepared for “house to house fighting.” Baxter’s next words, at sidebar, formed the defense’s core battle cry: “I object to testimony of a crime for which my client has not been tried. We don’t know whether Stanley Hoss’s admissions were voluntary …”
Fagan jumped in: “Snyder already made that inquiry when he interrogated the FBI agent about Hoss’s admissions.”
Lines drawn, it was up to the judge to rule.
“We are going to follow the directive of the Supreme Court in Commonwealth v. McCoy,” said Strauss. “In relation to penalty, we will permit records of prior convictions, or confessions and admissions of the defendant, even if there be no convictions.”
Baxter had expected as much. “I understand the present state of the law that permits the prosecution to do this. I am just protecting the record.”
Favored by Strauss’ ruling, Fagan let loose.
After Nancy Falconer spoke of her “voice ID” of Hoss, Baxter asked, “Have you ever testified in a trial seeking justice for your alleged misfortune?”
A. No, I haven’t
Q. Has Mr. Hoss ever had the opportunity to defend himself in such a case?
A. No, he hasn’t.
Next, Agent Gerald Mohr stated that Hoss admitted stealing a .22 J. C. Higgins revolver from the Falconer home in late March 1969. When Baxter asked if Mohr had testified on Indictment No. 107, October Sessions, 1969, Mohr replied, “It hasn’t been tried yet.” Jabbing his finger in the air, Baxter emphasized, “That is the point I am trying to make.”
Detective Bill Jennings told the jury about Hoss’s “unlawful carnal knowledge” of the body of Kathy Defino. As this was an actual conviction against Hoss, Baxter had little to say.
Each representing another strand of hemp wrapping Hoss, the witnesses spoke of serious crimes and admissions, but, by design, Fagan was saving the worst for last: all the testimony thus far was but a prelude to the unforgivable affair in Maryland, which would mark the now-convicted cop-killer as soulless.
It was late morning, with Agent Danny Dunn on the stand, when the tragic shadow of the Peugeots crept over the trial … and the jury box.
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.”
Strauss permitted Stanley’s family a few words and hugs with Hoss, then ordered the condemned man returned to Western Penitentiary. Surrounded by deputies, Hoss started toward the door but stopped to ask the judge if he could have a word. It was an unlikely request but Strauss said Hoss could be brought to the bench. Hoss asked if he was going directly to the pen without going back the county jail. Strauss said that was the arrangement.
“Well, in that case,” said Hoss, “I need to ask if I can talk to Warden Robinson before I go.”
“This is most irregular, Stanley. And its importance?”
“It’s just something he can do for me. It’s on the up-an’-up.”
What possessed Strauss to call the warden? Perhaps some sympathy that even this hardened criminal was facing death? Perhaps a small kindness to someone whose fate has been set? Strauss gave over his chambers for this meeting. Hoss was shackled, deputies just outside the door, but the meeting was private.
“Stasiu, how you holding up?” said Robinson.
Hoss made a face, then joked, “Guess I’ll live.”
Robinson chuckled at the gallows humor. “What’s up? What can I do for you?”
“I need a favor.”
“If it’s legal and no other problem, I’ll do it.”
“You see these clothes, this suit I have on? I’d like you to wrap them up. Tomorrow at twelve noon there will be a woman standing at the foot of the steps of this courthouse. She’ll be in all white with white boots on.”
From information that had come to him earlier, Robinson understood that this woman, who was from Germany, was thought to have been at the trial every day. “Every night during the trial, at a certain hour, she’d be present at the White Tower hamburger joint across from the jail, and regularly a telegram would arrive for Stanley which always said, ‘I’m playing your song now.’ She thought he would get the telegram right on the hour but he only got them at mealtime, but each night,” recalled Robinson, “she’d sit over there, drink coffee, and send those telegrams.”
“Okay, Stasiu,” agreed Robinson, “though I’ll inspect the clothes and wrap them up but, all right, I’ll give her the clothes.”
At noon the next day, Robinson walked down the courthouse steps, “and there she was. I handed her the clothes. She smiled—she was a gorgeous creature—and said, ‘Thank you’ in her German accent. Who she was, why she was there, who knows? She walked down the block, turned a corner, and that’s the last I ever saw of her.”