Personally, I have never known a criminal to
confess a crime of which he was innocent. The nearest thing
to it in my experience is when one criminal, jointly guilty
with another and sure of conviction, has drawn lots with his
pal, lost, confessed, and in the confession exculpated his
companion.
In the police organization of almost every large city there
are a few men who are genuinely gifted for the work of
detection. Such an one was Guiseppe Petrosino, a great
detective, and an honest, unselfish, and heroic man, who
united indefatigable patience and industry with reasoning
powers of a high order. The most thrilling evening of my
life was when I listened before a crackling fire in my library
to Joe's story of the Van Cortlandt Park murder, the night
before I was going to prosecute the case. Sitting stiffly in
an arm-chair, his ugly moon-face expressionless save for an
occasional flash from his black eyes, Petrosino recounted
slowly and accurately how, by means of a single slip of paper
bearing the penciled name "Sabbatto Gizzi, P.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142