Sam Amirante: A former public defender who had just started up his own private practice when this story began.
“Four hundred people tell ten friends that they were at a party at Gacy's house, and suddenly, four thousand people are talking about the guy, and so on, without the help of the press. From the highest reaches of Chicago politics, including the mayor and governor, to his neighbors and business associates, it seemed that nobody in the city had more that one degree of separation from this man.”
“Nobody likes to be relentlessly vilified, especially when you know deep in your soul that the job you are doing is absolutely necessary to the adminstration of justice.”
“I pounded on the locked front door of Gacy's house and peered into the diamond-shaped window at eye level. A face appeared that filled the window. It was a face I knew. Greg Bedoe, the seasoned Cook County investigator whom Terry Sullivan had attached to the unit early during the investigation, looked back at me. I will never forget the look on his face as long as I live. It was a look of sheer horror, the look of a man that has seen something gruesome, grotesque, unimaginable.”
“The scene was like the filming of a movie. On a rare crisp, cloudless sunlit Thursday in December, four days before Christmas 1978, John Wayne Gacy breathed his last breath of free air.”
“This time Mr. Gacy didn't have a key to the cuffs held between his his fingertips in the palm of his hand. This time it was Gacy that was...dumb and stupid.”
“I had returned to the station after having visited Gacy's house -- quite the humbling experience -- and I was sitting with him, trying unsuccessfully to remind him of his constitutional right to remain silent. John thought he knew better, though. He thought he was smarter than people like Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, and Adams. He wasn't.”
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