Published by The History Press
Charleston, SC
www.historypress.com
Copyright 2019 by John E. ORourke
All rights reserved
First published 2019
E-Book edition 2019
ISBN: 978.1.43966.625.8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018960982
Print edition ISBN 978.1.46713.794.2
Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It is with the deepest respect that I first want to express my gratitude to retired FBI special agent Ed Petersen. Ed, without your help, this book could not have been written. Thanks for providing the names and information of those who worked the case and spending the time to speak with me about the investigation. I also want to thank FBI special agents Theresa Riley, Thomas Cottone and John Turkington for spending time speaking about the investigation and their roles in it. Their thoughts and perspectives were wonderful. Moreover, thanks to Chief Rich Riley of the Morris County Prosecutors Office for showing the surrounding area where the ransom trail took place. Also, thanks for sharing your insight, notes and FBI newspaper collection on the kidnapping. This alone saved many hours of field research.
Steve Foley of the Morris County Prosecutors Office, I want to thank you for sharing your perspective, notes, pictures and the diagram of the Musconetcong River search. This was very helpful. Thanks to Steve Seidler and John McWilliams of the Morris County Sheriff s Department. Their perspective on the first moments of this case helped to fill a void in the narrative that was missing.
Thanks to West Orange police chief James Abbott for introducing Arthur Seales police academy classmate Rich Costello and Seales Exxon subordinate Bob Crowell to me. Rich, thanks for sharing your police graduation handbook and speaking about your academy time. Bob, thanks for sharing your experience working with Arthur Seale and helping to understand the working environment of the security department at Exxon.
Joseph Tafuni, retired, of the New Jersey State Police, thank you for introducing me to retired Morris Township detective Tim Quinn, the first detective at the crime scene. Tim, thanks for speaking and sharing your experience on this matter.
Thank you, Charles Roxburgh, for sharing your experiences with Sidney Reso, your friend and boss.
Thanks to everyone who read and provided feedback on the manuscript. Thanks to Eric Falk for repairing the pictures, most of which were archived newspaper photographs, and bringing them up to spec.
Id like to also thank my friend John Bryans, whose advice I value. If not for him, I wouldnt be writing true crime. Thanks John for taking time away from your busy schedule as an editor and consultant to offer guidance with my writing endeavors.
Lastly, Id like to dedicate this book to my wife, Ann, and my children, John and Joanna. I appreciate your support and assistance with my writing endeavors. Love you guys.
PROLOGUE
TUESDAY EVENING, APRIL 28, 1992
The April moon shone on 15 Jonathan Smith Road, highlighting the beauty of the French Colonial set back from the street. The moons illumination created pockets of light and darkness throughout the large property. A cool spring breeze moved through the budding green leaves, causing shadows to creep across the front lawn. The neighborhood was quiet, with hardly a car or a person to be seen other than a white van sitting in the darkness caused by a large pine tree. If someone were listening, they would hear the idling of the engine being carried by the breeze. The sound was there, amongst the rattling of branches, rustling of leaves and whistling of the wind, but no one heard it. The sun had long settled behind the dark green Morris Hills, and the residents of this neighborhood were in for the night.
Set back from the cul-de-sac and partially hidden by trees and brush, the Reso residence was dimly lit by a porch light. Several windows were aglow from lights inside. Sidney and Patricia Reso were relaxing from a long day. The solitude of their home was always a restful repose. Around 10:00 p.m., the couple strolled upstairs to their sizable bedroom. The lighting inside their abode cast softly on the fine color tones Patricia had chosen. As the two lay in bed watching TV, or simply reading, the nightstand light pierced the window pane, illuminating the leaves of an oak tree near the house. As the moon slowly moved across the sky, the pockets of light and darkness shifted, as did the shadows on the ground.
The quietness of the room and the tranquility of the affluent neighborhood were betrayed this night. For lingering amongst those dark shadows was an evil. This presence had crept into the neighborhood unseen; in fact, it had been lingering in the shadows day and night for quite some time. It was a perverse, pungent evil, filled with desire, greed and envy. Two figures sat in that van staring at the Reso home; their plan had been finalized. Once certain the Resos were tucked in for the night, the van moved slowly out of the darkness towards the home, stopping ever so briefly at the foot of the driveway before disappearing into the night.
As the hours passed, the moon continued its movement across the star-filled sky, disappearing behind the mountains just before 6:00 a.m. As the eastern hills of Morris Township came out of the shadows, the suns light caused the needles of the pines to appear a yellowish green. Early risers began walking their dogs and going for walks as others readied for work. The clear sky, with its pure white clouds, suggested the day was going to be pleasantthe day would be anything but. Those dark souls were back in the neighborhood; much like the Grim Reaper, they were lingering in the background, waiting to claim their victim. The die was cast; their plan was ready to go. Hidden amongst the early risers was a woman dressed in jogging attire running peacefully past the Reso residence. Passing the property, she jogged up and around the cul-de-sac, taking a good look at the home set back off the street. She continued down Jonathan Smith Road, passing the driveway again, but this time, she drifted onto the property, kicking the newspaper in the driveway to the far side. Thereafter, she jogged away, disappearing out of sight. Waiting not far from Jonathan Smith Road was that white van, with her male counterpart inside.
Taking a position behind the drivers wheel, she popped the van into drive and retraced the path she had just jogged down, parking under that large pine tree. As those two dark, repugnant souls sat watching and waiting, Sidney and Patricia Reso rose to begin their day. Like clockwork, the light came on upstairs, followed shortly thereafter by the downstairs kitchen light. He was showering, while she made breakfast.
