The Mad Bomber of New York (36 page)

Unsurprised by Mullen's ruling but hoping to keep his client out of the Tombs, Murray reminded the judge that the Kings County order of commitment remained and that Bellevue was the proper facility for Metesky pending resolution of proceedings in Brooklyn. After a brief moment of contemplation, Mullen agreed, grateful to avoid another confrontation with the rather feisty corrections commissioner.

As the fight over the “head” and “torso” of George Metesky ensued, the lawyer retained by the
Journal-American
to consider Metesky's workmen's compensation claim announced that he had filed an application with the compensation board for reconsideration of the original denial of his client's claim. Bart O'Rourke explained to reporters that since it was the unanimous conclusion of three qualified Bellevue psychiatrists that Metesky suffered from schizophrenia of the paranoid type, and since it appeared that such condition existed during the time in which he was required to file his compensation claim, the time limitations of section 28 that originally barred his claim should be ignored. “I am claiming,” said O'Rourke, “that shortly after his final discharge from the Marine Corps in 1929, and prior to his accident in 1931 he was psychotic, delusional and hallucinating . . . If this is true, it is a reasonable hypothesis that during the time he was required to file a claim . . . he was psychotic.”

XXI
“HIS DAYS ON EARTH ARE NUMBERED”

W
ITH THE EYES OF THE LEGAL PROCESS FOCUSED SOLELY UPON THE MENTAL
health of George Metesky, it would soon be his physical health that would take center stage. As the tension between New York County and Kings County simmered on the issue of legal competency, Metesky suffered a severe relapse of his ongoing pulmonary tuberculosis and on April 6 hemorrhaged nearly a pint of blood from his lungs. For hours he lay alone on his prison ward cot, convinced that he was dying yet telling not a soul of his condition. Finally, an attendant discovered that Metesky was ill and he was given immediate medical treatment. When his condition was finally stabilized he was asked why he hadn't notified a nurse of his sufferings. “Well it's no use living,” he responded.

“This man could at any time develop a ravaging disease,” Dr. Albert LaVerne informed members of the press. “This means it might spread to all parts of his body . . . Tuberculosis of this type is a killer.” Fully aware that Judge Mullen intended to expose Metesky to the rigors of trial and opposed to even the thought, LaVerne lectured to anyone who would listen that the emotional strain of a trial could likely bring on a fatal pulmonary hemorrhage.

Though Metesky's condition improved little in the coming days, James Murray found himself in a race against time to save his client from the trial that Dr. LaVerne so readily feared. Provisions to empanel a special jury in New York County were well under way, and Judge Mullen, though aware of Metesky's failing condition, had provided no indication that a stay of the proceedings was in the works. Murray knew that the only chance to save his client—both physically and legally—lay in the hands of Judge Leibowitz.

The Kings County hearing on Metesky's competency to stand trial had been rescheduled to April 8. On that day James Murray conferred with Judge Leibowitz in his Brooklyn courtroom chambers, and, with the full approval and consent of the assistant district attorney, they jointly formulated a plan to expedite the competency hearing and thus preempt, at least temporarily, the New York County trial. Aware that the Kings County inquiry could not proceed in Metesky's absence and further that a Kings County judge could not conduct a hearing within the confines of Bellevue, which lay in New York County, the group agreed that as soon as his condition stabilized, Metesky would be transferred out of Bellevue and into Kings County Hospital, where Judge Leibowitz could conduct the competency hearing.

On April 10, a small improvised courtroom was created in a wing off the Kings County Hospital prison ward, where the judge, lawyers, and psychiatrists convened to begin their inquiry. The gathering settled into the sterile and unpleasant surroundings and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room as a barely conscious George Metesky, strapped to a stainless steel hospital gurney and wearing pajamas, a robe, and a gauze hospital mask over his mouth, was wheeled through the door. His skin appeared almost gray in tone and his breathing was rapid and labored, interrupted only by prolonged spells of fleshy and productive coughing. An oxygen tank dangled from the bottom of the mattress, and a bottle of intravenous fluid hung by his side on one branch of what looked like a rolling metal tree. Those in attendance shifted uneasily in their chairs and exchanged furtive glances until Judge Leibowitz called for attention and finally brought the proceedings to order.

In contrast to Judge Mullen's quarrelsome and controversial hearing, the focus of the Kings County inquiry was entirely non-confrontational and dedicated solely to the determination of the defendant's ability to understand the proceedings and to confer with counsel in his defense as required by the law. James Murray began the proceedings by passing copies of the written Bellevue report to all participants, and he called Dr. LaVerne as his first witness. As a preliminary matter, Murray sought to establish LaVerne as a qualified expert and competent psychiatrist intimately familiar with Metesky's case. As the questioning ensued, however, Judge Leibowitz, sensing an opportunity to level a blunt admonition of Judge Mullen, interjected, “How many reports would you say you have signed for the Court of General Sessions where you have made investigations pursuant to the order of the court, approximately?”

LaVerne turned his eyes upward in contemplation. “I would say two or three thousand.”

“How many of those two or three thousand reports have been rejected by the Court of General Sessions . . . ,” continued Leibowitz.

“I can't recall a single one at this time.”

“After a very intensive and careful evaluation,” Dr. LaVerne testified, “I have come to the inevitable conclusion that he is suffering from a serious mental disease diagnosed as schizophrenia, paranoid type, severely incapacitating.” LaVerne spent the better part of the afternoon illuminating his opinion to Judge Leibowitz, with a description of Metesky's long decent into the world of delusion and psychopathology. He illustrated, event by event, how Metesky's conspiratorial and hyper-suspicious mind touched every aspect of his life until finally his delusional thinking crystallized into a crusade to rid the world of a great evil—Con Ed.

“Doesn't he ever come to a point where he realizes that all his actions are futile . . . ?” asked Leibowitz.

“It is not possible for him to shut off the spigot of fury and hatred. He is so obsessed with this emotion that he cannot control it . . .”

Leibowitz glanced at Metesky and asked, “As the man lies there today, if he were set free, he would be a dangerous man, wouldn't he?

“Undoubtedly.”

“A homicidal maniac?” the judge persisted.

“I would say, your Honor, of the thousands of schizophrenics that I have had the opportunity of examining and seen, in my opinion he's one of the most dangerous to society, and one of the most psychotic that I have ever seen.”

Leibowitz drew an uneven breath, leaned forward, and massaged his pulsing temples. “Is it your opinion that this man is now mentally capable of understanding the nature of the charge against him and making a defense to that charge?”

“In my opinion,” responded LaVerne, “he is not capable of understanding the charge or of making—or of conferring with his attorney for the purpose of conducting his defense.”

The judge thought for a moment and said, “In other words, it is your position, doctor, and if I am wrong you say so, that if Mr. Murray was to consult with this man in preparing his defense he would be talking to a crazy man, an insane man?”

“That is correct your Honor . . . In the back of his mind is the feeling that Mr. Murray is aiding and abetting the great conspiracy to frustrate him from exposing Con-Ed.”

In his final volley of letters to the
Journal-American
Metesky had ominously professed, “my days on earth are numbered.” As the competency hearing reconvened before Judge Leibowitz in the Kings County Hospital on April 15 after a four-day adjournment, it seemed more than ever that the prediction of the court's ailing ward was nearing fruition. Within fifteen minutes of the start of the hearing, Metesky burst into a spell of uncontrolled coughing. His medical doctors rushed to his side and, noting that the initial flare of scarlet in his cheeks had begun to shade blue, administered an oxygen mask and attempted to calm his shuddering body. Gradually the coughing subsided and Metesky began to settle. “It is my feeling,” Dr. LaVerne lamented, “that if these proceedings are prolonged too much longer, it is quite possible that your Honor may have a corpse rather than a defendant upon which to make a decision.”

The futility of requiring the defendant's continued presence at the hearing was lost on no one in the room, and Leibowitz suggested that Metesky be returned to the ward for treatment while the inquiry proceeded. “I don't think any purpose will be served by having this desperately ill man being tortured here.”

With Metesky out of the room, a frank yet on the record conversation between Dr. LaVerne and Judge Leibowitz ensued regarding Metesky's medical condition. LaVerne was not only a psychiatrist but also a medical doctor of some note and was intimately familiar with his patient's tubercular case. Though Metesky's physical condition was irrelevant to the law on the question of competency, it was, however, practically relevant from the standpoint of logistics. A trial simply could not take place while the defendant was medically unavailable to attend the proceedings. After Dr. LaVerne provided a detailed account of Metesky's medical diagnosis and current condition, Leibowitz cut to the ultimate issue, asking, “What is the prognosis, doctor, in this case?”

LaVerne looked sternly at the judge and without hesitation said,” The prognosis in a case of this type, with a history of tuberculosis, with many relapses, with several severe hemorrhages, with the extensive advance of the disease which has occurred in the past several weeks, the prognosis is extremely poor.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that this defendant will, in my opinion, die from tuberculosis. It's a question of how and when, whether he will bleed to death or suffocate to death.”

The judge sighed and asked, “Can you venture any opinion with any reasonable certainty as to just about how long this man is going to live?”

LaVerne responded with the obligatory “That, your Honor, is a question which no doctor could answer,” but when pressed on the issue, he offered, “[H]e doesn't have too much more to go . . . I imagine it is a question of weeks.”