CHAPTER 46

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1989 WOULD BE A MAKE OR BREAK DAY FOR ERIE businessman Anthony “Niggsy” Arnone. It was a day during which his attorney would make the ultimate lawyer’s plea – one that would either succeed and ultimately free the man accused of planning a horrendous murder, one who had been held in the Erie County Prison since his arrest – or it would be a day he would fail to make an impression on the 12 jurors who would send Arnone to Pennsylvania’s electric chair or a state institution for perhaps the rest of his life.

Either way, while it might not have been the actual decision day for the jurors, it was nonetheless a day that would lead to that final decision and resolution of a homicide case that had festered in Erie for too many years.

Arnone, on trial for first degree murder, indeed was putting his life in the hands of defense lawyer Joseph Santaguida. Attorney Santaguida, in a courtroom strategy that would long be discussed in local legal circles, had called only three defense witnesses before resting his case. Three and done. Not surprisingly, Arnone was not one of them. Santaguida had decided to keep his client from testifying in his own behalf – and for good reason. When asked by a newspaper reporter why he didn’t put Arnone on the witness stand, Santaguida replied, “He carries with him the presumption of innocence.” Standard question from courthouse reporters. Standard response from defense lawyers.

With no rebuttal witnesses testifying, the defense lawyer was now quickly pressed into immediate action. He needed to present his final argument, his version of the case, to the jury.

Pennsylvania’s criminal justice system favors, or at least gives the benefit of the doubt, to the defense in most legal circumstances. The burden of proof, for example, is always on the prosecution, not the criminal defendant. That presumption of innocence, as Santaguida had told the Erie newspaper reporter, is always present, always constant and only ends upon conviction. Even more, the case against the defendant must be proven not beyond a shadow of a doubt, for virtually few things can be so proven, but beyond what is legally termed “a reasonable doubt.” If there is reasonable doubt, explained by judges in different ways, but essentially as a doubt that would give pause to any prudent person considering a major decision, the jury would not be wrong to acquit.

Further benefiting the defense is the requirement in Pennsylvania that any conviction must be a unanimous decision by all 12 members of the jury. Criminal trials differ significantly from civil trials. Civil cases require only a “preponderance” of the evidence, and even then, verdicts need not be unanimous.

As a result, the deck is clearly stacked by the Pennsylvania Constitution on the side of the defense in all criminal matters before the courts. The old adage still rings true, “Best to free 1,000 guilty men than to convict one innocent man.” Cops, attorneys, and even the judges all are well aware statistics show most of those appearing before the bar of justice are indeed guilty. But the defense is still given this benefit of presumption of innocence, and often to the accused’s advantage.

The prosecution, for example, must present its case first, giving the defense the clear advantage of responding to all witnesses and allegations before deciding whether it would put on its own case. The defense gets to present its case second, allowing the jury members a fresher understanding of the most recent facts being presented to them and thus a fresher understanding of the defense position before deliberations begin.

However, there is one advantage given to the prosecution in criminal trials, a significant one. The prosecution has the opportunity, and the very distinct advantage, of presenting its closing argument to the jury last. In this instance only, the defense must go first in arguing its case. The state’s advantage, then, is to counter any defense claims in presenting a version of the trial that will be remembered last in the minds of the jury members.

So, on this cold December day, it was Attorney Santaguida who was called upon to deliver the murder trial’s first “summation” to the jury. It would have to be good enough, powerful enough, to make a lasting impression on those who would consider his client’s fate. For not only would the jury get to hear the prosecution’s forceful response after Santaguida’s argument, but also the jury members would be required to absorb an incredible amount of law and legal definitions provided by the trial judge’s “charge” before they could begin their private deliberation.

Santaguida knew this was his last best opportunity to make a positive impression on the individual members of the jury. He immediately went into attack mode. As expected, the lawyer unapologetically questioned the Commonwealth’s case against Anthony Arnone and jumped with great force upon the credibility, or lack thereof, of the central prosecution witness, Arnone’s former pal and alleged co-conspirator, Caesar Montevecchio.

“Without Caesar Montevecchio, what case do they have?” Santaguida posed the question. Jury members listened with rapt attention. “It boils down to the believability, the credibility of Caesar Montevecchio.”

The defense attorney, as many courtroom lawyers have often done, implored this jury to use its own common sense in figuring out the honesty, or absence of it, among the many trial witnesses, including Montevecchio. Suggesting that jury members examine the witnesses’ “track records,” Santaguida urged them to use those same thought processes they successfully use to make their own important decisions in everyday situations.

Santaguida also reminded the panel that Montevecchio’s testimony was part of the overall plea deal that had been arranged between Montevecchio and the prosecution team. He said Montevecchio faced only maximum prison time of some 10-to-20 years as opposed to the hundreds of years he would have likely been sentenced to serve without his favorable testimony for the prosecution. The lawyer also pointed to witness Ron Thomas, a convicted drug dealer, whom he indicated would also probably get a reduced sentence in return for his testimony.

Blame the prosecution – that’s what successful defense lawyers have a knack for doing. It wouldn’t take much for jury members to conclude for themselves that Montevecchio and Thomas had personal interests for testifying. Yet, it is fairly standard practice for the defense to try to discredit prosecution witnesses, raising concerns about their credibility and casting as much doubt on them as possible.

“Guys like Ronald Thomas, Caesar Montevecchio, they lost their right to be believed a long time ago,” Attorney Santaguida insisted. It was a good point, many thought. Challenging the believability of career criminals was considered a given. “Ladies and gentlemen, you are the last bastion of fairness!” Joseph Santaguida implored.

Santaguida reminded jury members of the promises they had earlier made to acquit his client unless the evidence proved otherwise, and beyond a reasonable doubt.

“This is pay-up time,” he said. “This is time to be true to your promises. A man is arrested and accused of a crime. What’s it mean? Nothing.” He told the jurors they must find Arnone not guilty if they had any reasonable doubt whatsoever.

“Imagine, reasonable doubt about this case!” he chided somewhat and with great sarcasm. “There’s walking, talking, screaming reasonable doubt!” Santaguida was blustery, loud and animated as he continued in his 90-minute summation.

It was a masterful argument, perhaps one of the best heard in many years in Erie County Court. Not too long as to bore and tire jurors, yet long enough to cover the complex information now tied directly to Arnone’s life or death fate.

The state built its case against Arnone on a “garbage theory,” the lawyer claimed as he kicked at the boxes of evidence on the courtroom floor. “This is all window dressing,” he pointed at the evidence boxes. “What’s it got to do with this case? Nothing!”

Santaguida did concede, however, that the Commonwealth’s ongoing analysis of financial figures relating to Arnone’s food and importing business raised many questions about the actual fiscal health of the company. But he said that while the figures might indicate “an income tax problem, an IRS problem, it doesn’t make him a murderer.” Furthermore, Santaguida insisted that the government’s allegations that Arnone stole thousands of dollars from Dovishaw’s bank safe-deposit boxes, but continued taking out business loans “makes no sense.”

Again pointing at government witnesses who themselves were acknowledged criminals, his voice rising to decibel levels loud enough to be heard in the corridors outside the courtroom, Santaguida lashed out, “Give me a break! Give me a break with this whole case . . . the whole theory of this case!”

He reminded the jurors that even prosecutors had called a law enforcement witness who testified that Caesar Montevecchio earlier lied in the Bolo Dovishaw murder investigation. Santaguida wanted to know how the jury could be expected to put a person in the electric chair based upon the testimony of a liar such as Montevecchio.

Erie Police Detective Sergeant Dominick DiPaolo, the longtime lead investigator in the case, also took much of the defense attorney’s abuse and bashing during Santaguida’s closing argument.

Another tried and proven defense tactic is to blame the messenger. “Dom DiPaolo is the orchestra leader to this whole chamber of horrors,” Santaguida lashed out.

Without a doubt, it remained an impressive closing argument, DiPaolo acknowledged to himself – concise, to the point, and putting the blame on others, even the cops!

But it wasn’t a closing argument that couldn’t be countered by the prosecution, a closing that could match Joseph Santaguida’s point-by-point. That’s what DiPaolo hoped would be the case. DiPaolo’s years-long tenacity had gotten the case this far. The detective’s never-give-up investigatory style, often against formidable odds, had already resulted in arrests and guilty pleas in the murder case. Courtroom success or failure was mostly out of his hands, dependent upon others.