Popular Crime

by Bill James

  Let us back off, and try to see Fred Neulander as he was seen before all of this came to light. He was intelligent, and, more than intelligent, bright. He sparkled. He delivered a good sermon. He provided wise counsel. He had the habit of walking the room at Shabbat, putting his hands on the shoulders or arms of the worshippers and speaking directly to them. He was not a man who smiled and begged for acceptance; he was a warm, serious, dynamic and energetic rabbi who demanded and got respect from all who came into contact with him. He conveyed compassion at the deepest level. He managed the affairs of the temple with competence and dispatch. He was the kind of spiritual leader that everyone wants to find.

  He had a weakness for the flesh, however, and the police focused not on his many successes but on his moral failings. The Rabbi was shocked to discover how easily the police could pull aside the curtains with which he had hidden these failings from his wife and congregation. They were aware of his philandering within hours of his wife’s murder. The police invaded his temple with tape recorders and stenographer’s notebooks.

  Len Jenoff stood out from the congregation like a crocodile in a horse race. An alcoholic and a compulsive liar, Jenoff had lived a life of many-failures. Nearing 50, he was living in a halfway house and, when he got out of there, running a private investigation service out of his bedroom. Coming to Rabbi Neulander for help, Jenoff had been embraced by Neulander and drawn into the community. After the murder Neulander hired Jenoff to investigate the case—the actual murderer, hired as a private eye to investigate the murder. A fictional plot twist. Neulander’s explanation for this was, the police weren’t doing anything, and he couldn’t afford top-shelf investigators. The police were just focused on him; they weren’t really doing anything to solve the crime. He paid Jenoff a little money to try to get something started.

  Fred Neulander’s indiscretions hit the front pages of the tabloids. He resigned his position, and lived for several years in the shadows of scandal and speculation. In 1998 he was indicted for arranging his wife’s murder. That was 3½ years after the murder, and no co-conspirator had yet been identified. Another two years went by. He was scheduled to go on trial in June, 2000, and as of mid-April, 2000, prosecutors still didn’t know who had actually committed the murder.

  Nancy Phillips was nosing around the story for the Philadelphia Inquirer, trying to get cozy with Len Jenoff for purposes of pursuing the story, and Jenoff apparently became infatuated with her. I might have, too, had I been there; she was the kind of woman one wouldn’t mind getting cozy with. Jenoff couldn’t resist. He told her the story of the murder.

  And what a story it was! It was a corker. Jenoff liked to pretend that he was a character out of a James Bond film, a secret agent for the CIA and such. He was, of course, a transparent poseur. Rabbi Neulander engaged him in deep philosophical discussions about the moral quandaries of his imaginary profession. “If the survival of the state of Israel depended on it, would you commit murder?” Neulander asked him.

  “Absolutely,” Jenoff responded.

  Len Jenoff had not failed in life because he was stupid. He had failed in life because he was weak and immoral, insecure and immature. He was, within a narrow meaning of the word, quite intelligent. Over the weeks that followed, Neulander led Jenoff into an alternate reality populated by the enemies of the Israeli state, reminding him constantly of the dangerous world in which they lived, and of his promise to do whatever had to be done to protect Israel. At last he revealed to him the person who had to be killed, so that Israel could survive. It was …

  Well, shit, you’ve figured that out by now; you’re not stupid. Jenoff was living at the halfway house with a bunch of people who would scare the pants off of Jabba the Hutt’s bodyguards. Jenoff picked out the scariest of these dudes, Paul Michael Daniels, and drew him into his murder plot. Interestingly enough, he didn’t tell Daniels anything about this being a secret mission for the state of Israel. He just told him they were going to go to this house and murder this lady. Sure, said Daniels. Why not?

  That’s the version of the story Jenoff eventually told the jury. The version he first told Nancy Phillips, apparently in late 1999, was quite a bit different. Phillips by April, 2000, was in fear of her life, afraid that Jenoff, having confessed to her in private that he had murdered Carol Neulander, might be getting ready to wipe out the confession.

  Nancy Phillips now begged Jenoff to tell his story to the police, and to testify against Neulander—and at the same time, while technically observing her deal with Jenoff to keep his confession private, directed the attention of the prosecutors toward Jenoff. In late April, 2000, Jenoff and Phillips had lunch, and Jenoff began talking in his maudlin, drunken way about the tremendous guilt he carried from the murder, and how near he was to suicide. She told him he would feel better if he confessed. “Why don’t you do it right now,” she said (wording not exact). “Why don’t you let me arrange a meeting right now with the prosecutor who is preparing the case against Neulander?” Jenoff agreed. The prosecutor brought the cop who had been working the case for years, and Jenoff told them all his story—the prosecutor, the cop, and the reporter.

  The Rabbi’s trial was delayed by a year. He finally went before a judge late in 2001, seven years after the murder. His first trial resulted in a hung jury, and he was hauled back before the bar of justice one year later, in October, 2002. His second trial led to his conviction, and he was sentenced to life in prison.

  Almost everyone in Fred Neulander’s life has decided that he was guilty. His old girlfriend, Elaine Soncini, testified against him. His son, having finally concluded in 2001 that Neulander was guilty, testified, and called him “Fred” throughout the trial, refusing to grant him any respect. These people know him and I don’t, and I do not doubt that they have a better read on the man than I do. If the people who once loved him now know him to be guilty, who am I to argue?

  But the legal case against him, to my eyes were I on the jury, falls far short of “beyond a reasonable doubt”—in fact, I would almost argue that the case should have been dismissed for lack of evidence. The problem with the case, to my eyes, is that

  1) There is very, very little that ties Fred Neulander into the plot to kill his wife, other than the testimony of Len Jenoff, and

  2) It would be virtually impossible to find a less credible witness than Len Jenoff.

  Jenoff’s entire life has been directed by sick and puerile fantasies. He has lied to everyone he has ever known, about almost everything. He has acknowledged arranging and participating in the murder of Carol Neulander. If you composed a scale for credibility, it would run from George Washington to Len Jenoff.

  It is my reading of crime cases that the greatest injustices often occur when prosecutors and juries ignore the independent indicia of credibility, and make a decision about who to believe based on their instincts about who is telling the truth. That is what happened in the case of Randy Adams, mistakenly convicted in 1975 of the murder of a Dallas policeman. That is what happens, in my view, in most cases where innocent people are convicted. Cops, prosecutors and juries decide that they know who is telling the truth; they can just tell.

  Len Jenoff was very credible on the stand. He’s a really, really good liar. He has 10,000 hours of experience as a liar. He’s world-class. My attitude is: I don’t care how convincing he is. You just don’t believe what people like this tell you, unless it is supported by other evidence.

  Well, what other evidence is there that Neulander was involved? I would say that the case against Fred Neulander can be reduced to ten statements of evidence:

  1) That Jenoff said that he committed the crime at the behest of Neulander.

  2) That Jenoff has little motive to commit the crime, whereas Neulander did have a motive for the crime.

  3) That Neulander did direct some money to Jenoff after the crime.

  4) That Neulander had been involved in numerous extra-marital affairs, which, as a spiritual leader, he needed to conceal.
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br />   5) That the Neulanders had an argument, in which divorce was discussed, 48 hours before the murder.

  6) That Elaine Soncini reported that Neulander had said to her numerous times that “something would happen” that would allow them to be together openly before her 48th birthday, which was seven weeks after the murder.

  7) That Neulander’s behavior after his wife’s death was inappropriate for the circumstances.

  8) That Neulander took actions, at the time of the murder, designed to ensure that he was seen and noted by as many people as possible.

  9) That one of Neulander’s racquetball partners, a gangster named Peppy Levin, claimed that Neulander had spoken to him of his desire to come home some day and find his wife dead on the floor.

  10) That Neulander’s daughter relayed an incriminating remark, details to come.

  I believe that’s all there is, acknowledging that I am working from second-hand sources and might well have missed something. I would score this evidence at about 32 points, on a scale on which 100 points are necessary to convict. Taking these one at a time:

  1) Len Jenoff said that he committed the crime at the behest of Neulander. I would score this at no more than four points, since nothing that Jenoff says has any credibility—setting aside the fact that his narrative, in this case, is bizarre. Jenoff was the kind of guy who would go to an A.A. meeting, and, when given the chance to stand up, would talk about meeting with Ollie North and Ronald Reagan at the White House, and pitching the Iran/Contra project to them. His life was simply a long series of ridiculous stories. Nothing he says is meaningful evidence unless it is confirmed by other sources.

  2) Jenoff had little motive to commit the crime, whereas Neulander did have a motive for the crime. I would score this at zero, since I simply don’t think it is productive to get into speculation about unknown motives. Jenoff may have had a thousand reasons to commit the crime that we don’t know anything about. One simply doesn’t know what someone like Jenoff will do, or why he will do it. Carol Neulander carried cash—reportedly lots of cash—and people commit murders for which they have little apparent motive all the time.

  3) That Neulander did direct some money to Jenoff after the crime. This certainly sounds like a damning fact, and I was at first inclined to score this one at about 25 points. But reading accounts of the case as closely as I can, I don’t see the evidence—other than Jenoff’s testimony, which means nothing—that Neulander paid Jenoff any meaningful amount of money. Jenoff sent bills to Neulander’s attorneys for his work as a private investigator looking into the case, but the attorneys refused to pay them. Neulander sent Jenoff a couple of checks, years after the murder, totaling less than $1,000. Jenoff claimed that Neulander gave him $7500 in cash before the murder and $7,000 in an envelope afterward, but there appears to be no corroboration for this claim. No one can say where that money came from or where it went.

  Jenoff and his accomplice/roommate, Paul Michael Daniels, had a third roommate at the halfway house. The third roommate testified that he saw no evidence of Jenoff or Daniels being flush with cash after the murder.

  Jenoff’s story is that Neulander conned him into committing the crime. Neulander’s story is that Jenoff conned him into paying a little money for a phony investigation. I don’t see that this is a mismatch. From my standpoint it seems entirely reasonable to believe that Jenoff conned Neulander out of a little bit of money, rather than that Neulander conned Jenoff into committing murder.

  4) That Neulander had been involved in numerous extra-marital affairs, which, as a spiritual leader, he needed to conceal. This is certainly not a good thing for the defense. Neulander’s philandering and his need to conceal it, to me, lowers the burden of proof against him by some measure—let’s say about 10 points. What’s worse, Neulander made statements about this that are not believable. Neulander claimed that he and his wife had an open marriage, that they had both had affairs, and that Carol Neulander was aware of his infidelities. I don’t believe it, and this makes everything else he says less believable. Let’s say 12 points.

  This issue is critical to the erosion of support for Neulander among those closest to him. By saying that Carol Neulander had also had affairs and that she had consented to his affairs, Neulander insulted his wife’s memory, and deeply offended those who had once loved them both.

  5) That the Neulanders had an argument, in which divorce was discussed, 48 hours before the murder. But if we believe the prosecution narrative, the murder by that time was long planned and near at hand. If Neulander knew that Carol was going to be dead in two days anyway, why would he argue with her? The normal practice would have been to just agree to whatever she said.

  6) That Neulander’s girlfriend, Elaine Soncini, reported that Neulander had said to her numerous times that “something would happen” that would allow them to be together openly before her 48th birthday, which was seven weeks after the murder. She was threatening to leave Neulander if he didn’t leave his wife. Neulander said the sorts of things that cheating husbands say all the time; just hang in there with me, something will happen. I would fall apart if you left me. A few weeks before the murder he reportedly said to her that “I wish … I wish Carol was gone. Poof. She could just vanish, just like that. Maybe her car could just go into the river.” To which Soncini had replied, “You had better not be thinking what I think you are thinking.”

  It’s an ugly coincidence in the wake of the murder, but

  1. We have already gigged Neulander for having affairs, and,

  2. We can’t convict him of murder simply because he was cheating on his wife.

  We can appropriately consider it; it’s not nearly enough by itself. The question is, how much additional weight do we give to these statements, beyond the already noted fact that Neulander—seeing Soncini virtually every day—obviously regarded his marriage as a nuisance?

  Soncini was threatening to leave him—but Neulander was also involved with at least three other women. A man with four girlfriends does not murder his wife because one of them threatens to break it off. And—here’s another fictional element for you—by the time the case went to trial, Soncini was married to one of the cops who had been assigned to investigate the crime. I would score Neulander’s statements to Soncini at perhaps an additional ten points.

  7) That Neulander’s behavior after his wife’s death was inappropriate for the circumstances. Neulander sat shiva in the room where his wife had been murdered, with bloodstains still visible on the floor (if you looked closely enough). This gave people the creeps, and it seemed very unusual. He was too genial during the shiva, too pleasant—even, at times, making jokes. The ambulance driver called to the house, who said that he had responded to thousands of situations with people in distress, and knew how people react in those circumstances, said that Neulander’s actions were unlike anything he had ever seen. (Neulander’s son, also an ambulance driver, said the same thing during the second trial—with devastating effect.)

  But people do things, in moments of grief, that look odd or inappropriate to others. If your wife or your husband was murdered and the police suspected you of involvement in the crime, you would do something at the time of the funeral or in the days surrounding the funeral that the prosecutors would argue was inappropriate for the circumstances—absolutely and without question. One virtually never sees a case in which this claim is not made. It doesn’t carry any weight with me unless it is genuinely unusual or incriminating, which I don’t see that this is.

  And further, I would argue that if the prosecution really had a case against Neulander, they wouldn’t have been making a big deal out of how he sat shiva. The fact that they did make a big deal out of it undermines their credibility in my eyes.

  8) That Neulander took actions, at the time of the murder, designed to ensure that he was seen and noted by as many people as possible. At about the time the murder occurred, Neulander barged in on choir practice at the synagogue to ask some questions of the cantor, whi
ch was not a normal practice for him, and wandered around the building being seen by everyone there. Prosecutors argued that Neulander had done this to establish his presence at the synagogue at the time the crime was committed.

  But there are always unusual things that occur at about the time of a murder; it’s just the nature of the murderin’ bizness. I can’t see that a rabbi interrupting choir practice is genuinely noteworthy or genuinely suspicious. The action, if indeed Neulander did do this to establish a solid alibi, was sui generis, since he was certainly at the synagogue at the time of the crime, and somebody certainly could have verified this, even if he had stayed in his office. The whole business of the too-prominent alibi, again, is just an argument that prosecutors make whenever a person is accused of a crime. They’re always going to argue either that the accused has no alibi or that he went out of his way to establish an alibi. I don’t think it is worth more than maybe one point.

  9) The claim made by Peppy Levin, that Neulander had spoken to him after at the racquetball court about wanting to come home and find his wife dead on the floor, is in my view bogus, and bears no weight. Levin was a con man, and, according to the testimony of his driver (brought in as a prosecution witness), closely tied to the mob. There was no context for it; it just came up out of the blue—and the story emerged when Levin was under threat of indictment. Whether Neulander is guilty or innocent, I don’t believe that this conversation ever happened.

  10) Neulander’s daughter relayed an incriminating remark. Jenoff had come to the Neulander house a week earlier, saying that he had a letter to leave for Fred Neulander. He intended to commit the murder at that time, but backed out. At the time of the earlier visit Carol Neulander had been on the phone with her daughter, and the daughter reported that Carol said that Fred had told her to expect the delivery of this letter … get that, the daughter said that Carol said that Fred said. The defense argued that this was hearsay, which I don’t care whether it was or not; I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t believe in those rules. When Jenoff came back a week later, Carol was once again on the phone with her daughter, and reported that the same man had returned. She was murdered moments later.