Serial Killer Investigations Read Free

nearly ten years earlier, on 16 November 1940, when a homemade metal pipe bomb had failed to explode on a windowsill in the Consolidated Edison plant on West 64th Street. A note wrapped around it said: ‘CON EDISON CROOKS—THIS IS FOR YOU.’ Three months later, a second pipe bomb was found a few blocks away. When the war broke out, the bomber wrote a letter to Manhattan police headquarters pledging to cease his attacks for the duration.
    It was after the Brooklyn bomb that the editor of a New York newspaper, the Journal American, decided to publish an open letter to the bomber. Appearing the day after Christmas 1956, it begged him to give himself up, offering to allow editorial space for a full airing of his grievances. Two days later, a bomb was found in the Paramount Theater, in an opening slashed in a seat; a police bomb squad deactivated it. Like the others, it was a homemade device consisting of a length of piping with nuts at both ends. But on that same Friday afternoon, the Journal American received a reply to its letter:
    I read your paper of December 26—placing myself in custody would be stupid—do not insult my intelligence—bring the Con Edison to justice—start working on Lehmann—Poletti—Andrews...
    It was signed ‘F. P’
    The men named were the former governor of New York State, a former lieutenant governor, and a former industrial commissioner. The bomber went on to promise a ‘truce’ until mid-January, and to list 14 bombs he had planted in 1956, many of which had not so far been discovered. The police later found eight pipe bombs: five were dummies, but three were still live and unexploded—the crude chemical detonating mechanism had failed to work.
    Police Commissioner Stephen P Kennedy asked the newspaper not to print the letter, in case it caused public panic; instead, the editor inserted an advertisement in the personals column:
    We received your letter. We appreciate truce. What were you deprived of? We want to hear your views and help you. We will keep our word. Contact us the same way as previously.
    But other newspapers spotted the item, and the secret was out. The Journal American decided to print most of the bomber’s letter, together with yet another appeal. The result was another letter from the bomber, promising a truce until 1 March and offering an important piece of information:
    I was injured on a job at Consolidated Edison Plant—as a result I am adjudged totally and permanently disabled. I did not receive any aid of any kind from company—that I did not pay for myself—while fighting for my life—section 28 came up.
    Section 28 of the New York State Compensation Law limits the start of any legal action to two years after an injury. The letter-writer went on to accuse Con Edison of blocking all of his attempts to gain compensation, and to criticise Lehmann, Poletti, and Andrews for ignoring his letters. Like the previous letter, this was signed ‘F.P’
    Here, then, were clues that could lead to the bomber’s identity. Yet, Con Edison is a giant energy company, supplying New York City with its electric, gas, and steam, and has numerous power plants. If the bomber had been injured before 1940—the date of the first bomb—the chances were high that his records had long ago been destroyed or lost. The same problem applied to Lehmann, Poletti, and Andrews; they probably received a hundred letters a day during their terms of office, and most of them would have ended in the wastepaper basket. No politician files all of his crank letters.
    The police decided on a curious expedient—to consult a psychiatrist for his opinion on the bomber. This was the decision of Inspector Howard F. Finney of the crime laboratory. The man he chose was Dr James A. Brussel, who had been working for many years with the criminally insane. Finney handed Brussel the file on the bomber, together with the letters. Brussel studied the letters, and his first conclusion was that the bomber was an