Sam L. Amirante - John Wayne Gacy: Defending a Monster

Copyright 2012 by Sam L. Amirante and Danny Broderick Updated Edition 2015 by Sam L. Amirante and Danny Broderick

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

ISBN: 978-1-62087-071-6

Updated Edition ISBN: 978-1-63220-363-2

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63450-027-2

Printed in the United States of America

For our kids:

Sammy, Jimmy,

Sofiabella,

and

Casey.

Jack and Patrick

Contents

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.

The Sixth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America

S AM, COULD YOU do me a favor?

A telephone call, seven short words, a simple-enough request. Thats how it all began.

I knew the guy on the other end of the line. Everyone on the Northwest Side did. He was a political wannabe, one of those guys that was always around, talking about all the big shots he knew, hoping that the importance of others would rub off on him, a nice-enough guymaybe a little pushy, a bit of a blowhard, telling tall tales, but still, a nice-enough guy. He was a precinct captain for the Norwood Park Township Regular Democratic Organization, and so was I. He was actually one of the best precinct captains they ever had, better than me, some might tell you. He really brought in the votes for that tiny organization.

I had met him at one function or another. He always bought a full table at all the fund-raisers, ten tickets, which translated into a sizable contribution to the party; and then hed fill the ten seats with kids that looked like they really didnt wear business suits very often, unsophisticated... that would be a kind way to put it. They were usually his employees, young kids that worked for his contracting business.

Plus, he was on the Norwood Park Township Street Lighting District as a trustee, the secretary-treasurer, and I did some volunteer work on the side for the district. I was their lawyer. So I knew him.

Whats the problem, John?

You know all of the coppers over in Des Plaines, dont you, Sam?

Sure, John, I know most of them. We all used to work on different sides of the same building. I have worked on cases with most of them. Why?

Well, the Des Plaines police are following me around wherever I go. I have no idea why, but theyre starting to cause problems for my business. Its really beginning to annoy me, Sam. Its getting nuts. Could you ask around and try to find out what the fuck they want, what they think I did, why the hell they are harassing me like this?

He seemed genuinely upsetlivid, one might say.

What do you mean following you around wherever you go? How do you know? Maybe he was just paranoid, imagining things, I thought.

There was a disgusted chuckle at the other end of the line. If I am at a restaurant having breakfast in a booth, they are in the booth next to me. If I stop at a gas station to get gas, they are waiting across the street for me to finish. Wherever I go, they follow. No matter how fast I drive or how slow I drive, they are always right behind me. They sit outside of my house all night long until I leave in the morning. Then we all leave together. My neighbors are starting to complain.

Hmm, maybe this wasnt just paranoia.

I sat there wondering why in the world the Des Plaines police would have any interest whatsoever, but especially such an intense interest, in this rather-overblown, self-important hanger-on.

How long has this been going on, John?

A few days, I think.

And you have no idea why they are interested in you?

One of them said something about a missing teenager. I dont know. I sure as hell dont know anything about any missing kid.

Let me see what I can find out. I will look into it.

Ill owe you one, Sam. I really appreciate this.

Call me tomorrow.

Thanks, Sam.

I hung up the phone and thought for a second about how John Gacy had once been to my house in his capacity as a contractor. My wife and I were planning an addition to our home to accommodate our expanding family. Our second son, Jimmy, had been born, and we wanted to add a new room, a nursery. Thats what my wife, Mary, called it, anyway. I called it a bedroom.

We did not end up hiring him, but we seriously considered it. So, like I said, I knew him. I thought I knew him pretty well. What I didnt know, however, what he didnt mention during our short telephone conversation, was this:

On Monday, December 11, 1978, just three short days previous, John Wayne Gacy had an appointment at Nisson Pharmacy, a busy drug and sundries store located at 1920 E. Touhy Avenue in Des Plaines, Illinois. He had done some remodeling work at that establishment in the past, and when brothers Phil and Larry Torf, the owners of the store, decided to add some shelving and make some other changes, Phil called John.

Mr. Gacy arrived in his brand-new black four-door 1979 Oldsmobile 98 promptly at 5:30 p.m., as agreed, and parked in front of the store just off Touhy. There was snow and slush left over from a typical Chicagoland December snowfall, which would melt some during the day and freeze up solid during the night. John negotiated the puddles left over from the days thaw and thought about offering to return with his snowplow to clear the parking area completely, thereby alleviating the puddle problemhe did plowing as a side businessbut once inside the store, he was distracted by other things and never made the offer.

He shivered as he unzipped his black leather bomber jacket, stamped his feet on the matting just inside the door, and shook off the damp chill from the outdoors. He immediately saw Phil Torf coming from the rear of the store to meet him, and he lumbered his rather-cumbersome two-hundred-plus-pound five-foot-nine-inch frame down the aisle, big fleshy hand extended in greeting. As he passed the cash register, he smiled at the young cashier, Kim Byers, bundled up in an ill-fitting oversized light blue nylon down parka because she was exposed to the arctic blasts from the open doors every time a customer came in or went out. He made a mental note to attempt to sell the Torf brothers on a revolving door system to replace the simple double doors that presently existed and were the only thing blocking out the crisp December air. They are heating the outdoors and exposing their poor little cashier to the elements in the process , he thought. She might catch her death from a cold or flu.