Demanded their death. The trial was a mockery. Evidence was altered. Witnesses were led. A new trial would've-'
'Bullshit, Joe. You can't argue with a ballistics test. At least one fatal bullet was fired from Sacco's gun. Lots of reliable witnesses identified Vanzetti as one of the gunmen. When they were arrested, both men lied about what they had been doing. Both men were armed, too, with weapons like those used in the holdup.'
Joe slammed his palms down on the table and jumped up, shaking his finger at Brian's face.
'Hannon, you don't deserve to be a police chief if you believe all that crap. There's a logical explanation for each of the things you mentioned, and the fact that they were even issues at the trial and turned against the men proves a conspiracy to obstruct justice. And as for that bullet, it's a direct misquoting of the witness summoned. A lie!'
'All I know is what I read, Joe.'
'You don't know much. Those poor guys were tried and convicted not because of what they did, but because of what they were: working men, radicals, foreigners… Italians.'
Then Brian really muddied the waters by remarking that maybe that wasn't so far off the mark, considering that Italians practically invented crime in America.
To which Joe replied- shouted back is better, actually- that ninety-eight percent of Italians were peaceable and law-abiding, and if Brian implied, directly or indirectly, that they were violent, he would personally take Brian's head off.
To which Brian replied- shouted back is better, actually- that the Irish never, as commonly supposed, looked for a fight, but if Joe wanted to start something with him, he personally knew of a place in Southie where seven or eight strapping young Sons of Erin would take delight in performing the Kilkenny two-step on Joe's face.
To which Joe replied But before he could reply the door to Brian's office burst open and two boys in blue, their batons drawn, jumped into the room.
'Everything all right, Chief?' asked the bigger one. 'We heard shouting and-'
'It's okay, 'guys,' I said calmly. 'It's just two officers of the law about to commit murder.'
Brian dismissed them, and I got each combatant to his neutral corner. They glowered at each other over the table.
'I, uh, gather that the Sacco-Vanzetti case is fraught with externals. It's surrounded by issues of ethnicity and class. One might even say the judicial system was on trial as well as the defendants.'
'Right, Doc. The trial did not prove they were guilty; it proved a man who didn't speak good English, didn't have a lot of money and prestige, and didn't agree a hundred percent with the exploitation of immigrants could not get a fair trial.'
Brian started to say something,. bit his lip a little, then said it anyway.
'But it's not by any means certain they were innocent,' he said.
'Let's get back to Johnny Robinson,' I suggested before Joe could reply. 'Who's this Andy fellow he mentions?'
'Sam told me he's Andrea Santuccio, Dom's son. I've never met him. Johnny went to the Boston Public Library as planned at eleven on Friday and retrieved a certain parcel of letters and transcripts, given to the library by Andy after Dominic's death. Apparently this certain parcel was especially controversial or something. Anyway, Andy later fought for a special injunction to get it back. I guess he wasn't aware of what the packet contained at first. When the court ruled that the Santuccio family was entitled to reclaim part of the papers, Andy immediately hired Johnny to pick them up and deliver them back to the Santuccio home in the North End. Clear so far?'
We nodded, and Joe continued.
'But when Johnny got to the Santuccio house apparently nobody was home. The mother died over ten years ago and Andy is the only surviving member of the family. He's also a bachelor, I guess. The fact that Andy wasn't there altered Johnny's plans. Andy was supposed to be waiting there but wasn't. So Johnny hiked over to Cambridge for the other errands, went to get your fancy dental work, Doc, and at the end of the day hoofed it back to the North End. Remember, all this time he's carrying the hot papers for Andy right in his pouch. We don't know, but we can assume that Johnny called you either right before or right after he went back to the Santuccio house a second time.'
'And delivered the papers?' asked Brian.
'No. And did not deliver the papers.'
'How do you know, Joe?' I asked.
' 'Cause the asterisk was still there in the log, indicating a nondelivery. Sam said that before he called me back just now he called Andy's number. No answer. Now I'm going to try again.'
And he did. Still no answer.
'Doc,' he said wearily, 'are you beginning to get the same queasy feeling I am?'
'Yep. I assume you're thinking that the guy in the chimney just might be-'
'Andrea Santuccio. The guy who was supposed to take possession of the papers but who wasn't there to get them.'
'Where's that body now? In Boston?'
'It's en route from a Lowell funeral home to the Suffolk County morgue, where the autopsy will continue in greater detail. It may be there already. I'm going to make sure some locals from Hanover Street get a look at the corpse. Now.'
So he got on the phone again to Ten-Ten Comm. Ave. to have some bluecoats from the North End take a peek at the grisly body we'd found in the chimney. But it wasn't necessary. As soon as the remains had come into the morgue it was identified. A subsequent check with dental records confirmed that the man was indeed Andrea Santuccio, son of the late and renowned Dominic.
'Well,' sighed Joe as he twiddled a pencil between his big fingers, 'at least we know why Johnny was killed, though it'll be small comfort to Sam.'
'And a lot of us policemen,' said Brian. 'Can you work up some sort of scenario on this thing?'
Joe rubbed, his stubble and thought for a minute. His face darkened.
'Old Dom Santuccio had those papers for years. He always claimed he'd uncover some kind of evidence that would clear Sacco and Vanzetti. But he obviously never did or he'd have been pounding on the governor's door night and day, shouting and screaming. Old Dom was quite a character- a fire-eater. Finally, about a year before he diedhe had the cancer already and was on all kinds of drugs- he said he'd have a great announcement to make. One that would shake the world. Trouble is, nobody would believe him. Including me. He was batty by then from the pain and the drugs. Then he had a stroke and lost his speech and most of his memory. Andy had to hospitalize him because he got so violent. Now I say this, and I don't like to, being Italian: if there's anything hot in that pack of papers, I'm afraid it's something that drives the last nail in the coffin of Sacco and Vanzetti. If not, then why didn't he let it out?'
'Why did he will the papers to the library then?'
'He didn't. After he died, his son, Andy, donated them.'
'Now wait,' said Brian. 'Is there anyone who'd go haywire if they knew the stuff had gone into the public domain? If so, they'd be mighty annoyed at Andy. Mad enough to kill him.'
We all considered in silence for a minute. Then Joe cleared his throat and raised his big bloodhound eyes up at us.
'Okay. Assuming the evidence is damning- and I can reach no other conclusion- then there's only one logical candidate for a group who'd get totally unglued at the mere thought of its revelation.'
'Who?' asked Brian..
'Ever hear of the Sons of Italy?'
'Oh no. No way,' I said.
'That's what I hope too. After all, I'm a lifetime member.'
'Say it ain't so, Joe,' I said.
'I hope- I hope to God it ain't so, Doc.'
There was more silence. Then Brian spoke.
'Wait a minute, Joe. Wasn't Andy in Sons of Italy?'
'Sure. One of the real leaders, and so- oh shit. I see what you mean. They certainly wouldn't harm him. In fact, the Sons wouldn't hurt anybody… I don't think.'
