Murder, I’ve Covered It.

I know a thing or two about murderers. Back in 1979-80 I was the courthouse reporter for the Asbury Park Press in Freehold, N.J., and I covered several high-profile trials, two in which the alleged killers walked. Jurors want an iron-clad case before they’ll send someone up for life.

I spent three months covering a trial in which the state was trying to establish the existence of The Mafia. I met a hit man, Tony DeVingo, who the state accused of having gunned down mafioso Anthony “Little Pussy” Russo, a cat burglar. He was acquitted of the hit, but I had no doubt of his guilt.

Vernon Jeter in 1980 was convicted of stealing rings from the murdered corpse of Sandra Goldstein, but the jury unanimously acquitted him of killing her. I would have found him guilty of stabbing her to death. Vinnie the Hot Dog Man of Long Branch, the fence to whom Jeter offered the rings, covered up for the killer on the witness stand by pretending he was retarded.

Two blonde-headed twin brothers living in a field in an abandoned trailer because their father had thrown them out of the house, prostituted themselves to a local pedophile, then robbed and murdered him. They buried him in the field, stripped his car down to the frame, and buried most of it too. The jury convicted them.

I’ve seen criminals who are genuinely evil, like some of my characters—living devils.

In shot, I know what I am writing about.