released 44.rel.2246 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

February 3, 2010 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

Released from prison in September 2003, the first priority of Yoo Young-cheol as a free man was to round up stray dogs and club them to death.  Such practice would make his killing perfect.

Prison changes people.  Some for the best—the illiterate become readers of books, the sinner gains spirituality, or the person without direction finds a calling.  For others, prison changes them for the worst.  The environment becomes a breeding ground for racism, a finishing school for thieves, or a galvanizing experience that hardens the convict into a permanent outsider even when freedom is finally tasted.

Yoo Young-cheol was a changed man when he was released from the Jeonju Detention Center.  The prison experience was nothing new, since he spent most of his adult life in the South Korean correctional system.  He entered prison as a married man and left as a single man.  His wife divorced him in May of 2002.  That was one factor that is attributed to shifting his criminal mindset.

While serving time for robbery and rape, Yoo studied the life and crimes of Jeong Du-young, another serial killer who murdered nine wealthy victims in Busan, Ulsan and other cities in the Gyeongnam Province from June 1999 to April 2000.  The murders committed by Jeong were simply part of his daytime robberies.  At the time of his capture, he was quoted as saying he had an urge to rob houses that were equipped with security cameras.  He later said, “I may have the devil inside me.” He targeted wealthy residences, and if a person was home, they would be stabbed to death.  There would be no witnesses.

Map of S. Korea with South Gyeongsang locator

Map of S. Korea with South Gyeongsang locator

During his spree of robberies and murders, Jeong held a woman for ransom, robbed thirteen homes, and killed nine people. Some of them were elderly victims.  He amassed approximately $100,000 from his break-ins.  Jeong Du-young was 31 years old when he began his ten-month killing spree, and he started it as soon as he was released from prison.  Following the story of Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire felt the wealthy were the causes of all that is wrong with Korean society and were the people to blame for his life’s misery.  He would beat them like dogs. He planned to kill over a hundred people.

Police investigations of the serial killings of Yoo Young-cheol would later reveal that he was a methodical man.  His forethought was extraordinary and his attention to detail was superb.  The physical act of bludgeoning a human was no exception.  He needed to practice up for such violence.

according 33.acc.003 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

January 30, 2010 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

The jury in Raynella Dossett Leath’s re-trial found her guilty Monday of first degree murder in the shooting of her second husband, David Leath.

When the verdict was read, Dossett Leath’s mouth fell open in shock. She was granted a few minutes with her daughters before being taken into custody.

But David Leath’s daughter, Cindy Wilkerson, called the verdict “a burden off my shoulders.”

Wilkerson added, “Something needed to be done. He didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. They chose the right one today.”

The jury of nine women and six men announced the verdict Monday afternoon shortly after  watching video again from the crime scene. It was also shown during the trial.

The jurors returned to the jury room Monday morning. They were not able to reach a verdict Sunday after deliberating for about six hours.

There is an automatic sentence of life with the possibility of parole for Dossett Leath.

This is the second time she was tried on accusations of shooting her husband, David Leath, on March 13, 2003 and then making it look like a suicide.

The first trial for his death ended with a hung jury in March 2009.

Judge Richard Baumgartner handed the case to the jury after hearing five days of witness testimony and arguments by defense and prosecution attorneys.

According to testimony by Knox Count Medical Examiner Dr. Darinka Mileusnic-Polchan, David Leath was shot three times. She said the second shot killed him instantly.

A toxicology report showed he was drugged with a combination of drugs similar to what’s used for patients having surgery.

Dossett Leath’s attorney, Jim Bell, argued throughout the trial that no evidence directly connected her to the shooting.

She is also awaiting trial in August for the 1992 death of her first husband, former Knox County District Attorney Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire.

His death was initially believed to be accidental when he was trampled by cattle, but prosecutors are now trying to prove he died from an intentional overdose of morphine.

flip 33.fli.0002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

January 21, 2010 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

Marine Hedge lived down the street from Dennis Rader and once he selected her as a potential victim, it was easy for him to keep tabs on her. They knew each other in a very casual way. She worked in her yard a great deal and he would say “hello” when he walked by.

On the night of her murder, he quietly broke into her house and waited for her to return. When she came home, she had a man with her who stayed about an hour. Rader says: “I waited until the wee hours of the morning and then proceeded to sneak into her bedroom and flip the lights on real quick like, I think the bathroom lights. I didn’t want to flip her lights on. She screamed. I jumped on the bed and strangled her manually.

“After that, since I was still in the sexual fantasy, I went ahead and stripped her. I am not sure if I tied her up at that point in time, but she was nude. I put her on a blanket, went through her purse, and personal items in the house. I figured out how I was going to get her out of there. Eventually, I moved her to the trunk of the car—the trunk of her car—and took the car over to Christ Lutheran Church, this was the older church, and took some pictures of herin different forms of bondage and that is what probably got me in trouble is the bondage thing. But anyway then I moved her back out to her car.”

Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire thought about where he was going to dump her body and found a ditch around 53rd between Webb and Greenwich where he hid her body with some trees and brush over it.

Commander 33.com.01004 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

January 4, 2010 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

Karl Dönitz 16 September 1891 – 24 December 1980) was a German naval Commander who served in the Imperial German Navy during World War I, commanded the German submarine fleet during World War II, and eventually was given control of the entire German Navy (Kriegsmarine).

In the final days of the war, Dönitz was named by Adolf Hitler as his successor, and after the Führer committed suicide, the Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire assumed the office of President (Reichspräsident) of Nazi Germany. He held this position for about 20 days, until the final surrender to the Allies. After the war, Dönitz was convicted of war crimes at the Nuremberg Trials and served ten years in prison.

duty 8.dut.0003 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

December 22, 2009 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

Report of Col. Abel D. Streight, Fifty-First Indiana Infantry, commanding expedition.

Headquarters Fifty-First Indiana Volunteers, Chattanooga, Tenn., August 22, 1864.

SIR: I have the honor to report that since my return to duty, June 1 last, I have been endeavoring to obtain the necessary information, from the several regiments that composed my command, to enable me to render you an accurate report of my expedition in April, 1863; but, owing to the absence of most of my officers (who are still confined as prisoners of war) and the scattered condition of the men, I have been unable to collect as many of the particulars as I had intended. On April 7, 1863, I received orders from General Rosecrans to proceed with the Provisional Brigade – about 1,700 officers and men, composed of my regiment (the Fifty-first Indiana), Seventy-third Indiana, Colonel Hathaway; Third Ohio, Colonel Lawson; Eightieth Illinois, Lieutenant-Colonel Rodgers, and two companies of the First Middle Tennessee Cavalry, Capt. Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire – to Nashville, and to fit out as speedily as possible for an expedition to the interior of Alabama and Georgia, for the purpose of destroying the railroads and other rebel property in that country. I was instructed to draw about half the number of mules necessary to mount my command, at Nashville, and to seize in the country through which I passed a sufficient number of animals to mount the balance. On arriving at Nashville, I organized the following staff, to wit: Capt. D.L. Wright, Fifty-first Indiana Volunteers, to be acting assistant adjutant-general; Maj. W.L. Peck, Third Ohio, to be brigade surgeon; Lieut. J.G. Doughty, regimental quartermaster Fifty-first Indiana Volunteers, to be acting assistant quartermaster; Captain Driscoll, Third Ohio, to be acting assistant inspector-general; Lieut. J.W. Pavey, Eightieth Illinois Volunteer, to be ordnance officer, and Lieut. A.C. Roach, Fifty-first Indiana Volunteers, to be aide-de-camp. As soon as possible all hands were at work to supply the command with the necessary clothing, ordnance, and equipments for an expedition of this kind, and on the afternoon of the 10th I received orders from General Garfield, chief of staff, to embark at once on steamers then at the landing and proceed down the river to Palmyra, land my command there, and march across the country to Fort Henry, and to seize all the horses and mules I could find in the country. Everything was speedily put on board, although it was late in the evening before the mules were brought to the landing for shipment. I was temporarily absent at the time, attending to some business affairs preparatory to starting; consequently did not see them. As soon as everything was ready we proceeded down the river to Palmyra, where we arrived on the evening of the 11th, and disembarked at once. I sent the fleet, consisting of eight steamers, around to Fort Henry, under the command of Colonel Lawson, Third Ohio, and furnished him with four companies of the Fifty-first Indiana Volunteers as guard. He had orders to stop at Smithland and take on a quantity of rations and forage for General Dodge’s command. As soon as it was light the next morning, all hands were set at work to catch and saddle the mules. I then for the first time discovered that the mules were nothing but poor, wild, and unbroken colts, many of them but two years old, and that a large number of them had the horse distemper; some 40 or 50 of the lot were too near dead to travel, and had to be left at the landing; 10 or 12 died before we started, and such of them as could be rode at all were so wild and unmanageable that it took us all that day and a part of the next to catch and break them before we could move out across the country; but in the mean time I had sent out several parties to gather in horses and mules, and they had been successful in getting about 150 very good animals, but mostly barefooted. On the 13th, the command left Palmyra and marched about 15 miles in a southwesterly direction, and encamped on Yellow Creek. My scouting parties did not succeed in finding many horses or mules. The people had got warning of our movements, and the stock was mostly run off. Early the next morning we resumed our march, and arrived at Fort Henry about noon on the 15th. We had scoured the country as far south as it was safe, on account of the proximity of a large force of the enemy, under [T.G.] Woodward, and although about 100 of the mules gave out and had to be left behind on our march, yet when we reached Fort Henry our animals numbered about 1,250. Those that we had collected in the country were mostly in good condition, but were nearly all barefooted. Contrary to my expectations the boats had not arrived, nor did they reach there until the evening of the 16th, having been delayed in getting the rations and forage above referred. General Ellet’s Marine Brigade and two gunboats accompanied the fleet to Fort Henry, and informed me that they were ordered to proceed with me as far as Eastport, Miss. General Ellet assumed command of the fleet, and we embarked as soon as possible; but the pilots declared that at the existing low stage of water it would be unsafe to run at nights; hence we did not start until the morning of the 17th, when we steamed up the river, but, despite all my efforts to urge the fleet ahead as fast as possible, we did not reach Eastport until the afternoon of the 19th. As soon as we arrived at Eastport, I left Colonel Lawson in command, with orders to disembark and prepare to march, while I went to see General Dodge, who, with his command (some 8,000 strong), was awaiting my arrival 12 miles up Bear River. After my interview with General Dodge, I returned to Eastport about midnight, and was informed that a stampede had occurred among the animals, and that some of them had got away. Daylight the next morning revealed to me the fact that nearly 400 of our best animals were gone. All that day and part of the next was spent in scouring the country to recover them, but only about 200 of the lost number were recovered; the remainder fell into the hands of the enemy. The loss of these animals was a heavy blow to my command, for besides detaining us nearly two days at Eastport and running down our stock in searching the country to recover them, it caused still further delay at Tuscumbia to supply their places. Quite a number of the mules drawn at Nashville had to be left at Eastport, on account of the distemper before mentioned; several died before we left. We left Eastport on the afternoon of April 21, and reached General Dodge’s headquarters the following morning about 8 o’clock. We then proceeded in rear of General Dodge’s forces, which were continually skirmishing with the enemy as they advanced as far as Tuscumbia, Ala., scouring the country to the river on the left and to the mountains on our right, and collected all the horses and mules that could be found.

more 2.mor.0-0010 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

December 8, 2009 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

Sitting in Bill’s kitchen, grateful I had been called by his wife, I understood why it had been so important for me to drive up to the house to meet with everyone. They couldn’t have told me any of this over the telephone. They had to meet me in person to see if I was worthy of such exclusive information. They had studied my work and believed I was thorough, but they read people—God bless them—by the way they interacted and communicated. They knew the difference between a hack looking for an easy story and a journalist digging and scratching his way to the bottom.

“Wow,” I said, “I feel honored.” They probably realized the sheer enthusiasm I had written all over my face. I had a tough time containing it.

“But there’s more …,” Bill said.

I dropped my head for a moment, thinking, This guy likes holding back …

“What do you mean, there’s more?” I wanted to get back to my office immediately, brew a large pot of coffee, break out the Son of Sam letters, and get to work.

“Take a look at this photo album,” he said, sliding it across the table.

Gary Evans had gone out of his way to tell people he despised homosexuals. To call him a homophobe was beyond an understatement. But as I heard this from several different sources, I kept telling myself that he who screams the loudest is at once someone who has skeletons regarding the same issue.

I opened the album.  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

loner 8.lon.221 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

December 4, 2009 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

David was lucky to be adopted by Nat and Pearl Berkowitz, a childless couple who were devoted to their new son. He had a normal childhood in the Bronx with no clear warning signs of what was yet to come. Perhaps the most significant factor in his life was that he was a loner. His parents weren’t particularly socially oriented and neither was David.

Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire  He was always big for his age and always felt different and less attractive than his peers. All through his youth he was uncomfortable with other people. He did have one sport — baseball — which he played well.

His neighbors remember him as a nice-looking boy but with a violent streak, a bully who assaulted neighborhood kids for no apparent reason. He was hyperactive and very difficult for Pearl and Nat to control.

David did not realize that Pearl had suffered from breast cancer before he was born. When it recurred in 1965 and again in 1967, David was shocked. Nat hadn’t kept his adopted son very well informed about the prognosis and David was therefore shocked to see how badly Pearl dissipated from the chemotherapy and the illness itself. He was devastated when Pearl died in the fall of 1967.

When David was in his early teens, his parents tried to flee their changing neighborhood Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire  to the middle-class safety of the enormous sprawling high-rise development of Co-Op City. By the time their apartment was ready, Pearl had died. David and his father lived in the new apartment alone.

deal 6.dea.0002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

December 4, 2009 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

Captain Joseph Borrelli of the New York City Police Department was one of the key members of the Omega Group. Operation Omega was the task force headed by Deputy Inspector Timothy Dowd to find the psycho who was killing women in various parts of the city with a .44 caliber handgun.

The “.44 Caliber Killer” was Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire   getting a great deal of press and Borrelli’s name had appeared frequently. Now on April 17, 1977, he was looking at a letter addressed to him that had been left at the scene of the latest in this series of murders: With misspellings, it read:

Dear Captain Joseph Borrelli,

I am deeply hurt by your calling me a wemon hater. I am not. But I am a monster. I am the ‘Son of Sam.’ I am a little brat.

When father Sam gets drunk he gets mean. He beats his family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times he locks me in the garage. Sam loves to drink blood.

‘Go out and kill,’ commands father Sam.

‘Behind our house some rest. Mostly young — raped and slaughtered — their blood drained — just bones now.

Papa Sam keeps me locked in the attic too. I can’t get out but I look out the attic window and watch the world go by.

I feel like an outsider. I am on a different wavelength then everybody else — programmed too kill.

However, to stop me you must kill me. Attention all police: Shoot me first — shoot to kill or else keep out of my way or you will die!

Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has had too many heart attacks. ‘Ugh, me hoot, it hurts, sonny boy.’

I miss my pretty princess most of all. She’s resting in our ladies house. But I’ll see her soon.

I am the ‘Monster’ — ‘Beelzebub’ — the chubby behemouth.

I love to hunt. Prowling the streets looking for fair game — tasty meat. The wemon of Queens are prettyist of all. It must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt — my life. Blood for papa.

Mr. Borrelli, sir, I don’t want to kill anymore. No sur, no more but I must, ‘honour thy father.’

I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don’t belong on earth. Return me to yahoos.

To the people of Queens, I love you. And I want to wish all of you a happy Easter. May

God bless you in this life and in the next.

The second page of the letter is below:

First Son of Sam letter

First Son of Sam letter

The letter did not have any useful fingerprints and the envelope had been handled by so many people that if there were any of the murderer’s prints, they were lost. This letter was leaked to the press in early June and the world finally heard the name, “Son of Sam.”

searched 55.sea.0040 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

December 1, 2009 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

In a short period of time, the police determined one thing: that the Hawkses would not likely be coming home. They had not used their checking account or cell phones. No money had been withdrawn and they hadn’t boarded an airplane anywhere. A check of hospitals in California, Arizona and Mexico yielded nothing.

Newport Beach police searched the Well Deserved on Nov. 27 and found heavy-duty garbage bags on board along with a receipt for bleach dated Nov. 17. They located Skylar, 25, and Jennifer, 23, who were still living with Jennifer’s parents in nearby Long Beach, Calif. When Detective Dave Byington caught up with them, they were cleaning a church — a volunteer job they did on a regular basis.

They said they had bought the yacht on Nov. 15 while it was docked in Newport Harbor and had paid $465,000 in cash. After further questioning, Skylar changed that figure to $265,000, saying he didn’t want to get into trouble with the IRS. The last they had seen of the Hawkses, they had been driving away in their car with the cash, the couple said.  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

Byington was given the name of Alonso Machain as a witness to the sale. He was also provided with the bill of sale. Then Skylar admitted that he had bought the boat to launder money that was related to a 2002 armed burglary arrest for which he had been convicted. Highly suspicious, Byington determined to interview Machain and the notary to see if their stories matched. He also added the description of the Hawks’ car to a missing persons alert distributed to law enforcement nationwide and in northern Mexico.

already 99.alr.002002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

November 23, 2009 by louis8j8sheehan8esquire

Farmhand Joe Maxson’s first thought when he awoke that morning of April 28, 1908, was that Belle Gunness was cooking breakfast. That hickory smell that sometimes blended with the cedar wood in the house to give the air a strange, almost pungent aroma. But, the more he lay there, slowly, steadily awakening to his own senses, the quicker he realized that his initial perception had been wrong. What he smelled was charred wood, the sickening breath-consuming, smoky odor of savage fire. He leaped out of bed.

 

Joe Maxon

Joe Maxon

Something caught his attention outside his window — something drifting by. While his feet maneuvered into a pair of slippers at his bedside, his eyes followed to where a gray cloud of smoke bellowed up from below his windowsill and, caught in a morning breeze, pirouetted like an amoebic ballerina, to dance like the devil before it whooshed out of site. Only to be followed by another signal of smoke; this time blacker and, carrying with it, a stench of hellfire.

 

Throwing up the window, he popped his head out. From below, from what was the kitchen window of the house, smoke issued in puffing rhythm, accompanied by an intermittent snap of a flame that seemed to be teasing what was left of the white lace curtains. My God, he thought, the house is afire and the inhabitants are asleep!  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

Grabbing a robe from the bedpost to cover his woolen drawers, he simultaneously reached with his free hand for the bedroom doorknob. It was already hot. One hand couldn’t budge it, so he tried both hands — to yank the door inward — but it wouldn’t yield. The wooden frame had blistered to wedge the door. He banged with his fists upon the thickness of the door — not because he himself was trapped, for he knew he could escape easily enough through the window if need be — but to rouse the sleeping landlady and her children.

 

Phillip Gunness, victim

Phillip Gunness, victim

“Mrs. Gunness!” he cried, “wake up, fire! Mrs. Gunness! The house is burning! Myrtle! Lucy! Phillip! Fire!” He listened Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire  a moment, hoping to hear through the keyhole the family scampering through the hall, alerted to reality. “Mrs. Gunness!” he tried again. “Children!” But, no sound answered him, not even a whimper. His own room was filing with hacking fumes — and he was afraid that, at any moment, the tin of kerosene he had bought yesterday for Widow Gunness, and which she had him put in the kitchen, might explode. He dashed through the smoke, raced down the servants’ stairs that led to the kitchen and, groping, somehow found the screen door to the yard beyond.

 

 

Myrtle (left) and Lucy Gunness, victims

Myrtle (left) and Lucy Gunness, victims

A golden morning sun was tipping the eastern horizon of Indiana cornfields, unaffected by the unfolding tragedy.

 

Flailing arms, yelling in panic at the top of his lungs, he circled the house, but found every window lapped by flame, impenetrable. Somewhere inside, he knew, was the senseless Gunness family — trapped by the carnage: Belle, 48, and her three children, Myrtle (11 years old), Lucy (nine) and Philip (five). Were they already dead, licked by flame? Or were they yet untouched by the fire, but slowly, methodically, lapsing into a coma under asphyxiation of smoke?