Without doubt, Jonass was the pole bolt of the conspiracy. Everything shows he was the mastermind; but that lethal undertaking did not intimidate Jonathan. Convinced life is not worth living in economic distress, the accused tirelessly participated in the plot and, more than anybody else, allowed it to be successful. With impressive ability and incredible recklessness, he infiltrated the bank’s executive hierarchy and forced his way in.
Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to think about professional swindlers linked to a financial channel. I ask you to evaluate the probable fallouts and to understand why Joe killed innocent people and looted eleven million dollars. I ask you to recognize and to admit the validity of the circumstantial evidences preceding the criminal action. I ask you to see Jonathan, not as an accessory but as a principal in the Conway’s lethal conspiracy.”
The Prosecutor picked up a stick and walked toward a board where the bloody photographs of the victims were exposed. One after the other, he identified them for the Jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen, see here the pictures of the murdered officers: Martin Garrett, Matt Alfonso, Charles Becker, and Jackson Collins… Take a good look at them… They were fathers, sons, and husbands. Their deaths meant horrendous disruption of entire families. Fathers, mothers, spouses, and children have forever lost the benefits of their affection and protection. Murdered by Jonathan, their parents expect that you’ll take a stand for justice.”
The prosecutor turned toward another board and pointed out pictures of the investigators killed during several confrontations with the bandits.
“Garibaldi Bonaparte and William Arthur Bogatt had fal-
len trying to solve this case,” he said with a powerful voice. “Graham Isaacson is in a wheelchair, paralyzed for the rest of his life. They, also, deserve that you take a stand for them.”
Brandishing the sniper’s rifles used in the commission of the crime, the prosecutor clamored, “Here are the guns of an abominable conspiracy… Here are the instruments of destruction the Conway brothers used to murder innocent people…”
He turned toward Jonathan. “The defense will tell you that this man did not directly kill and rob. I tell you that the commanding officer is always more responsible than his troops. Without Jonathan, there would be no Hauss & Caust affair. His criminal action had allowed the planning and perpetration of a lethal hit against society.”
Staring at the jurors, he linked up,” Five hundred thousand dollars of the stolen money was found in his possession at the time of his arrest. He is also the principal suspect in the brutal murder of the Pozy brothers…”
The prosecutor shook his head and smiled ineffably. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he argued with incisive eloquence; “human nature makes us responsible for our deeds. Deciding to steal eleven million dollars and walk over the heads of innocent people, Jonathan forfeited his place in society and irreversibly determined his fate…
…It is not for you to take into account a murderer’s parental background. Let it be taken care of by the Almighty! Be fair to the victims and their families… Through evidences presented in this court, you’ll find this man responsible and guilty. Don’t be coerced by the Defense’s verbal digressions.
Evaluate the facts and render your verdict using justice as a supreme beacon… .
…Jonathan had received a good education and benefited from the parental care of middle class American citizens. He, alone, decided his ultimate fate. Shame to those who try to use incredible sophisms to justify his infamy…
…The wasting of so many lives is disheartening. I can only imagine a beam of countless accomplishments and a springboard of hopeful endeavors…
…Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, beyond all human considerations, Jonathan will deserve his punishment. Look ahead and be the voice of God!”
THE DEFENSE
(Closing arguments)
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, let me first congratulate you for your impeccable behavior. The flights of words pass over your heads with no harm. I must tell you that common sense is the most important psychological attribute in people charged to answer the call of justice.
The honorable prosecutor made, in his outlandish way, the tour of extraordinary events leading to this court of law. Using unreliable data, he tried to guide us through the different stages of the Conway’s plot. His grandiloquent demeanor reminded me this troubled visionary… What was his name again? Ah… Jack…He was so funny!”
(The courtroom erupted in laughter.)
“Ladies and gentlemen, carried by his verbal momentum, the honorable prosecutor wildly contradicted himself. His argument would not stand a superficial investigation; but it is deceptive... The references he used to explain Jonathan’s guilt by association prevent a clear projection of the facts. His judicial requisition proceeds from pervasive analytic verbiages. Unable to set his arguments on solid ground, he jumped fifty years back, trying to find some support to the lack of evidence.
His bombastic effort was not completely vain. It had the singular merit to show us the Conway’s mama in her juvenile tribulations. Abused, abandoned, badly rejected, she struggles, goes down, and slips in hell.
The testimony of Shariff Ganoott, President of the Hauss
and Caust Bank, clearly established the integrity of Jonathan’s professional behavior. Granola Donino, the Head Teller, had extensively described the man’s admirable honesty. Their subsequent negative impressions only showed their desire to support the prosecution.
It would be a terrible mistake to believe that a man who was trying to redeem himself by working as a maintenance boy, despite his stellar education, could have planned and executed such a sophisticated holdup. In answers to his own defense, Jonathan had elucidated the circumstances of his involuntary participation in his brothers’ conspiracy. I’ll go back to it.
During a trip to Fort-Lauderdale, Jonass visited his younger brother he had not seen for a long while. The reunion gave way to fraternal give-and-takes during which Jonathan talked about a transfer of eleven million dollars the bank’s Vice-President had mentioned during a conversation with a teller. Fired after an internal investigation, Marvin Johnson testified in this court and clearly remembered his lethal indiscretion.
For Jonathan, the conversation with his brother had no virtual consequence. He could not have anticipated that Jonass would take the incredible decision to rob the bank.
Armed with the precious information, the former swindler returned to Atlanta and was soon back, in Fort-Lauderdale, with his three other brothers. Hardcore criminals, they were ready for anything to improve their economic conditions. Carefully avoiding Jonathan, they made up fake identifications and rented an apartment in the vicinity of the Hauss and Caust Bank where they lived until April 17, 1977, the day of the bloody holdup.
Several eyewitnesses had testified in this court and confir-
med that Jonathan was never seen with his brothers. Such powerful testimonies are evidences that the accused was not involved in the conspiracy. It would have been impossible to stay behind the scene. We all know that the bandits benefited from a long preparation.
We also know that Jonathan remained in the bank six months after the fact. The prosecution wildly inferred it was war game intended to thwart suspicions. That frivolous judgment is another expression of their will to immolate anyone they can catch.
We’ve talked about the circumstances of Jonathan’s trip to Jamaica. Invited by his brothers for a week of vacation, the young man was stunned to find himself among millionaires. Insisting to know the source of their money, Jonathan could not get straight answers. His brothers’ confusing behavior warned him something fishy was going on. Considered as “a possible problem”, they never invited him to be part of the gang.
Ladies and gentlemen, would I surprise you by saying that Jonathan knew nothing until the last minute? That’s true… The accused became aware of his brothers’ criminal action the day FBI agents and Jamaican troops stormed the Sunset Vil
la. The poor devil was trapped… To his naive reaction, the bandits answered by asking him to abet or be killed... Faced with that brutal ultimatum, what could he have done?
Ladies and gentlemen, sometimes a man has no better recourse than his integrity to face a dreadful situation. The accused I here represent is in the middle of a bloody mess. The entire world expects his conviction; but your fairness, as well as your oath of allegiance to the law, which you took freely, dictates that you get a verdict according to the evi-
dence.
Don’t be intimidated by political threats and social commotion. They’re inevitable in a trial of this magnitude. Only in the facts you should find the reason of your verdict. Be strong and remember the gravity of your decision.
On this bench of infamy is a man who expects from you justice and compassion. Be guardians of the truth and pronounce your verdict as proud and vigilant heralds.
Jonathan Conway is innocent. Please, let him go back home!”
* * *
The courtroom was full. Sitting between two deputies, the prosecutor, Stevenson Goda, a black man, talked cheerfully to the Bailiff. On the other side of the courtroom, Jackson Allister, the leader of the defense team, appeared calm and composed. While searching in a briefcase, he calmly conversed with his assistant. Motionless and seemingly aggrieved, Jonathan observed them with conspicuous attention. From time to time, he timorously turned toward the Judge.
Three days had passed since the jurors retired in the deliberation room. At eleven o’clock, in the morning of June 29, 1979, they announced they have reached a verdict.
The government had sent three representatives. They were in the first row and took notes tirelessly. Sitting side by side, Galiss and Canamera stayed silent during the entire process. They had testified against Jonathan and seemed very anxious. Despite several attempts to convince him, Graham did not show up.
Parents of the fallen officers were present in large numbers. A few sobbed pitifully, others stomped around as if they could not wait anymore. Then, one after the other, the jurors returned in the courtroom. The judge observed them for a moment, nodded, and said calmly, “Ladies and gentlemen, have you reached a verdict?”
The foreman answered emotionally, “Yes, your honor, we have.” Echoing his words, the other jurors confirmed unanimously.
Everything went on quickly. The Bailiff received the Ju-
ry’s note and handed it over to the Judge who acknowledged and asked Jonathan to stand up. Pallid and obviously worried, the baby jerked and obeyed.
The judge remained silent for a moment; he then read the note. To the question: “Is Jonathan Conway guilty of murder, in the first degree, in the killing of Matt Alfonso, Martin Garrett, Jackson Collins, and Charles Becker?”
He seemed to hesitate, and, then, answered quietly, “Not guilty.”
Jonathan stayed agape and a bright smile lightened his face. There was a slight brouhaha in the courtroom and a man shouted some profanities. The judge did not seem concerned. With a soothing voice, he continued, “To the question: “Is Jonathan Conway guilty, in the first degree, of conspiracy to commit murder against Matt Alfonso, Martin Garrett, Jackson Collins, and Charles Becker?”
He answered candidly, “Guilty.”
There was a huge clamor and some people applauded. The judge had not finished. Staring at Jonathan, he said in a calm demeanor, “To the question: “Is Jonathan Conway guilty, in the first degree, of the looting of eleven million dollars from the Hauss & Caust Bank?
The answer was quick. “Not guilty.”
“To the question: “Is Jonathan Conway guilty, in the first degree, of conspiracy in the looting of eleven million dollars from the Hauss & Caust Bank?”
The Judge seemed content and relaxed. “Guilty,” he said straightforwardly.
Immediately, he passed sentence.
“Jonathan Conway, this court orders that you spend the remainder of your life in prison with no chance of parole for
at least fifteen years.”
There was a moment of silence and, then, an explosion of joy. Parents of the victims unrestrainedly manifested their satisfaction. Some of them thanked God that justice was finally served.
Jonathan stayed mute, as if he was not concerned. While his lawyer threw contemptuous words, promising to appeal, two marshals handcuffed the prisoner and took him away.
CHAPTER 12
Jonass, the Fugitive
April 30, 1982. In the sky of Monrovia, in Liberia, a host of traveling birds fled graciously toward the swamps of the hinterland. Zephyr permeated the air, carrying from the western prairies the aromatic scent of the lavender.
Seated behind the wheel of a brand new Mercedes Benz, Adolphus Constantine, Liberian citizen of Jamaican background, drove steadily toward the city’s Southside. His black suit and red tie gave him an imposing appearance. From the powerful stereo emanated the sweet voice of Roger Whittaker singing “it’s impossible”, a romantic and famous hit.
Grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the front passenger’s seat, Adolphus took one and lit it up. After puffing a few times, he put it in the ashtray; he then pulled a handkerchief and sponged his nose.
Jonass Conway, aka Adolphus Constantine, bloody ringleader hunted down around the globe, seemed absorbed in his own reflection. Stiff like a rock, his facial mood showed great concentration.
After a short ride, he slowed down and went on to park in a church courtyard. Stepping out of the car, he locked the driver’s door and walked toward the back entrance. As he passed through the yard, a young man rushed outside and hugged him. “Oh, Adolph, I’m so happy to see you… Thank you for coming…” the individual was elated.
“Admoss, I’m glad to be here,” he replied cordially.
“Come on... Let’s get in…” the young man guided him inside the church.
They sat down and inattentively followed the ceremony. From time to time, Admoss squinted obsequiously at Jonass, cajoling him with flattering words. At the end of the service, a couple approached and started a conversation with Admoss. The Liberian man introduced them to Jonass.
“The Gothans… They just got married…” the individual proudly presented the couple.
Jonass nodded and musingly looked at the young lady, a seventeen-year-old brunette with dazzling eyes and sensual lips. Svelte, vivacious, she was remarkable with her congenial and happy demeanor. Her youth contrasted with her husband’s maturity, a man already in his fifties.
Jonass smiled at the thought that, in the United States of America, such marriage would have been considered a felony. Unable to turn away from the adolescent, he did not listen to Admoss’ dithyrambic praising of his philanthropic deeds.
They accompanied the couple outside and a few followers from the flock joined them. Under their inquisitive gazes, they took place in the Mercedes and drove away. As they turned around the corner, Jonass said intriguingly, “She is pretty, your friend… Different!”
“A beauty, isn’t she?” Admoss winked with an air of conniving benevolence. “Mathew supplanted many valentines...”
“His name is Mathew?” Jonass inquired in a tone deliberately debasing.
“Yeah… an old scoundrel…” answered Admoss cynically.
“Why did she marry him?” asked Jonass.
“Her family decided for her,” Admoss shook his head and smiled. “The man has a nice house and a good boutique...”
“Is he rich?” Jonass stared at him.
“No... A bit better than the others...” said Admoss mockingly.
“What’s her name?” inquired Jonass.
“Mimosa... She comes from the south...” answered Admoss with a friendly nod.
“What kind of man is Mathew?” asked Jonass.
“Bloody like a lion,” replied Admoss. “He killed his first wife for adultery...”
“Why isn’t he in jail?” Jonass sounded skeptical.
“Our laws are lenient in this kind of situation,” answered Admoss. “Here
, the unfaithful wife is a monster...”
“He was not tried?” Jonass looked at him.
“The woman was caught red-handed… They exonerated him…” Admoss replied sarcastically.
“Ah yeah…” Jonass could not believe it.
“Mathew is a rat,” said Admoss. “He knows the law and had never lost in a trial.”
“Does she love him?” asked Jonass.
“Not at all!” replied Admoss intently. “She accepted the situation to please her family…”
“You really think so?” Jonass stared at him.
“Absolutely,” he answered confidently.
“Are you sure?” insisted Jonass.
“I would bet my child on it…” replied Admoss.
Jonass nodded and mumbled hesitantly, “Would it be possible to send her a gift?”
“Ah… You like her…” Admoss jerked on his seat.
“Who would not, my friend?” said Jonass. “She is angelic…”
“I can make it happen…” Admoss smiled mischievously.
“You can?” Jonass looked at him and shook his head.
“Yes,” answered Admoss without hesitation.
“What about Mathew…?” asked Jonass.
“He won’t see a thing...” Admoss grumbled jeeringly. “I’ll use her brother who is a friend…”
“Indispensable Admoss…” Jonass patted his shoulder. “What would I do without you? But… will she accept to see me?”
“It’ll be dangerous,” said Admoss.
“Because of Mathew…?” Jonass waved and stared at him.
“I told you he is a lion…” Admoss answered seriously.
“Ah… I’ve seen worse than that, my man…” replied Jonass. “That girl is my type… She is just what it takes to quench my sexual thirst… Take charge, okay…?”
The Conway's Conspiracy Page 17