Chapter 3

Processing Alex’s Car

On the day after the murder Jeffrey H. Luber and Debra C. Nelson, two of the three forensic scientists who had reported to the murder scene the night before, went to work on Alex’s vehicle, which had been moved to the Suffolk County Crime Laboratory garage.

The vehicle, according to their report, was a 1999 GMC Suburban. Everyone else agrees that the vehicle was a Yukon, but that’s what the report read. It is possible that a “Suburban” was considered a generic term for a family SUV—much like Kleenex is often used as a synonym for facial tissue.

The forensic people looked in the console between the seats. Although the CD that Alex had been trying to retrieve when he was attacked was probably still there, the crime scene analysts were more interested in the familiar-looking pipe and Baggie combo they found.

Upon more careful inspection they found a second pipe. Without passing judgment, at least not in writing, they noted in the record that they had gathered from the vehicle two pipes and “plant material” from the console between the front seats. It was just a small amount of “plant material,” a quantity of “plant material” typically meant for personal consumption. Instincts told the investigators that the Baggie and its minimal contents almost certainly did not have anything to do with the crime.

There was also something that appeared to be blood found in the car. A swab from an apparent bloodstain on the front passenger seat, over which the victim was leaning when he was accosted by his killer.

Also found, and probably insignificant, were a baseball cap with a Nike “Swoosh” logo on it, found in the foot well in front of the front passenger seat, and “trace material” near the backseat, the driver’s-side front-door armrest, and near the front passenger seat.

Trace material can nail a killer who has come into contact with his victim. Analysts believe that each killer takes something of the crime scene away with him and leaves something of himself at the scene. This is particularly true in sex attacks, in which the victim and the attacker make contact and the perpetrator often leaves damning evidence in the form of DNA.

But these analysts knew that the evidence they were finding was far less promising. They correctly suspected that the criminal and the victim never came within more than a few feet of one another, that the killer never touched the car or looked inside the car.

It didn’t look like a robbery. It looked like a hit.

The killer had left evidence all right, and it was in the form of bullets. That was about it. Four of the five bullets were recovered during the autopsy. The fifth was found at the crime scene. Still, they had to go over the vehicle thoroughly. There might be something in there that might betray the identity of Alex Algeri’s killer.

The swab from the stain from the front passenger seat was sent to the Serology Section, the trace material was sent to the Trace Evidence Section, and the plant material was sent to the Chemistry Section.

 

 

By the end of Thursday, January 18, George Krivosta, a forensic analyst with the Suffolk police, had received all five bullets for analysis. These included the four that had been recovered from the body during the autopsy, and the slug found at the scene. The question that needed to be answered: How many guns were there?

There could, after all, have been two shooters standing close to one another, although this was not considered a strong possibility by those who had seen the wounds. The pattern of wounds seemed to indicate one gunman, firing in rapid succession at a relatively stationary target.

Krivosta’s report was issued a month after the crime. It could be determined that all four of the slugs found by the medical examiner had been fired by the same gun, but the slug found at the scene was too mangled to be compared adequately. In the language of the analyst that fifth slug “failed to display a sufficient quantity of identifying characteristics.”

Best guess, however, was that all of the bullets had come from the same gun.

The DNA analysis on the blood and cigarette butts found at the scene showed that all of the blood belonged to Alex. The saliva on the cigarette butts did not belong to Al, but rather to an unidentified male. Because the butts were found outside the rear door of the gym, they could have been put there by any employee or patron of the gym who had stepped outside to smoke, and probably were not related to the crime.

One might think that those who endure cardio and aerobic workouts and those who smoke cigarettes are two mutually exclusive groups, but there are a surprising number of people who belong to both groups.

Should a suspect be developed, it was noted that a DNA sample from that individual might be helpful. Matching the suspect’s DNA to the DNA from the cigarette butts would, at the very least, place the suspect at the scene of the crime, although not necessarily at the time of the crime.

The CSI findings were disappointing, to say the least.

 

 

Police followed up the CSI with an intense check of Algeri’s background. Who would want him dead? His personal and professional life were thoroughly examined. These efforts bore no fruit.

Algeri was an unlikely murder victim. He had been a fun-loving lifelong bachelor who was always smiling. Alex had been a little rough-and-tumble as a youth, but he was no longer known to hang out with persons of questionable character.

Well, except one. And his name was Paul.

 

 

The lead detective in charge of the Algeri murder investigation was Detective Robert Anderson, a thirty-four-year veteran of the Suffolk County Police Department (SCPD).

As the lead investigator in many of Long Island’s most notorious murders, including those committed by serial killers Joel Rifkin and Robert Shulman, his reputation bordered on legendary.

Not long after being told that his son was dead, Sal Algeri received his first visit from Detective Anderson. Sal was still in the hospital, feeling like his guts had been ripped out by the evening’s events, when he looked up and a scholarly man was approaching him. The guy looked like the actor who’d played FDR—Edward Herrmann.

The investigator introduced himself formally as Detective Robert Anderson, of the homicide squad. He didn’t look like a cop. Not that he was wimpy, it was just that he looked more than just smart. He looked intellectual.

When Detective Anderson opened his mouth, however, Sal could tell he was a genuine tough guy.

“He came in with a couple of his guys,” Sal recalled. “He asked if I had any ideas. The first thing I said was ‘Paul.’”