Skip navigation

Murder at the Palladium


< Prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Next >
  Sign up for the newsletter

Your E-mail Address:

*Windows LiveTM ID
  Required

More Newsletters

Please remove this component
(docid: 14233326)
from direct placement in the Section Description and insert the component into a "Collection"

Detective Bobby Addolorato and his partner, John Schwartz, finally thought they had all the evidence they needed to get two men out of prison, and arrest the man they considered the real killer in the Palladium case. Now, all they had to do was convince Manhattan prosecutors.

Despite all their preparation, their meeting at the D.A.'s office had lasted less than an hour.  The prosecutors said they would initiate another investigation, asked the detectives to put their findings in a written report, and sent them on their way.

Addolorato: "I was pissed. Was there something I missed or wasn't clear on what we were explaining? We were walking in with case evidence, folders, cases, box loads of evidence and it was being ignored, like just I don't even want to look at it. Who are you to tell us? We're two New York City detectives."

Story continues below ↓
advertisement | your ad here

Schwartz: "We were treated with such hostility from the time we walked in. I had never, never been treated like that in 19 and a half years with the police department."

Addolorato: "It's like they just didn't care. And you know, that just rips me to shreds because that's their job. Like that's my job. They're supposed to care."

Three weeks later, the detectives delivered their written report with a warning to the D.A. Spanky Morales was now just one week away from getting out of prison and had reportedly threatened witnesses. They specified that it was imperative to hear back by Dec. 17. 2002 so that they could ensure the safety of their witnesses and take any further steps required. The detectives thought Spanky Morales' imminent release required immediate action, but apparently prosecutors didn't think so. A week passed, with no word back from the D.A.

Addolorato: "It's December 17. Spanky got out yesterday. They gave him a bus ticket back to New York. So he should be back-- he's back today. They haven't called us. They haven't acknowledged us. I'm at a loss for words and I'm at a loss for direction at this point."

Schwartz: "You know what? Even if they called and said listen, this isn't going to get done by the time they get out, fine. At least they are doing something."

Addolorato: "You had no questions about that report?"

Christmas 2002 marked 10 years since detective Addolorato first learned of the Palladium murder. Working on Christmas Eve, he stopped to say a prayer for the two men, whose freedom he was still fighting so hard to win. Hope—for years, it was all David Lemus's mother had. That holiday season, she visited her son in prison.

Nilsa: "You know when I first saw all these walls, I nearly died. It hurts more knowing that he's not guilty. I don't have a life. I exist. My son is my life."

But with a new year came a new start. The detectives learned that the Manhattan district attorney's office was launching its most exhaustive investigation yet, one that would eventually include dozens of interviews in 14 states. Two new detectives were assigned, bringing fresh eyes, but no background knowledge, to the case.

'We're alone now. We've been cut off all of a sudden. They're painting Bobby to be a bad guy, us to be loose cannons and they want us to have no involvement.'

— Det. John Schwartz
So Addolorato and Schwartz headed to Manhattan to help the new investigators get up to speed. When they got there, they saw something they'd never seen in all the years they'd been looking into the case -- the D.A.'s original case file. They say the papers they saw, astonished them.  

Schwartz: "One was a note indicating that Spanky had been identified by a couple of the prosecution's witnesses prior to the trial."

Addolorato: "They knew that the man that Joey Pillot was saying did it, was identified back in 1991 by their own witnesses."

Schwartz: "He was never placed in a line up or charged."

Addolorato: "Oh, there were other things in the folder."

Schwartz: "The other was a note stating that Danielle Troche, who we found out was Spanky's sister–in-law, had called the police in early 1991 and told the police that Spanky had been one of the people involved in the shooting at the Palladium."

The detectives wondered, had prosecutors turned over the notes to defense attorneys at the time of the original trial? If not, why not? Was it carelessness? Did the D.A. consider the notes insignificant? Or was it an intentional decision that ended up denying Lemus and Hidalgo a fair trial? Addolorato says when he voiced his concerns a police department supervisor told him and his partner to back off.

Addolorato:  "So I was told I was not allowed to make any phone calls. I was told I was not allowed to talk to the district attorney."

Schwartz: "We were ordered to remain silent."

And soon, they say any role they had hoped to play in the new investigation vanished.

Schwartz: "We're alone now. We've been cut off all of a sudden. They're painting Bobby to be a bad guy, us to be loose cannons and they want us to have no involvement. Who's more knowledgeable about this investigation than Bobby? Nobody."

The two men in prison still had defense attorney Steve Cohen working to free them. He was now dealing with a new prosecutor, Daniel Bibb, who advised him in a voicemail message that his investigation wouldn't be finished any time soon:

Dan Bibb voicemail: "Steve this is Dan Bibb from the Manhattan D.A.'s office. What I can tell you is that the investigation is proceeding. There are interviews happening every day of people with information relevant to the investigation. I can also tell you that the investigation is not going to take weeks, it's going to take months. If that's unfortunate for you, I apologize."

Cohen: "It's pathetic. We're dealing with two human lives, people who I believe didn't do anything and are now sitting in jail for more than a decade and are being told basically being told through me, we'll get to it, when we get to it."

Still another six months passed. The D.A.'s latest investigation with those two new detectives was in full swing, but as far as detective John Schwartz was concerned, they were only covering old ground. Schwartz had been thinking about retiring, and in November, 2003, after 20 years on the job, he did. 

Schwartz: "You break your ass for 20 years and you come to something like this and I hate leaving anything unresolved and I hated leaving Bobby by himself. But I was done, enough's enough."

Eight months later, in July 2004, the frustration proved too great for detective Addolorato, as well. Unable to investigate the case, and chafing under orders not to speak publicly about it, he too retired. He says it was the only way he could speak out about what he believed was a miscarriage of justice.

Addolorato: "I never wanted to say that I was a whistle blower, but this whistle needed to be blown in a big way. I swore an oath when I signed up for the police department to protect the rights of everybody, to uphold the Constitution and I'll be damned if I'm going to sit by idly on my hands and let two guys rot in jail."

Lemus and Hidalgo had been behind bars for 12 years and the D.A. was still investigating the Palladium shooting. Years and years ago, the prosecution case seemed solid enough. Both defendants had been identified by multiple eyewitnesses, and right after the murder in 1990, David Lemus had told a friend that he was the shooter. What could be clearer than that?

But now in the summer of 2004, everything prosecutors had proven in court was about to be challenged again, when Lemus and Hidalgo's defense team filed a motion to have their convictions thrown out. It made the local news. By sheer chance, jury foreperson Carol Kramer was watching that night.

Kramer: "I heard the words, 'Palladium murder,' and I saw these two faces on the television. It was Lemus and Hildago, how attorneys were trying to appeal this. And I thought, wrongful conviction? I mean no, I thought I'd been hit in the stomach."

Just last week, a new judge began hearing arguments on whether to overturn the convictions, and one man's name came up in court time and again, as it has for more than a decade: Spanky Morales. Where is Spanky today and what's he say about the Palladium murder? You're about to find out.

CONTINUED
< Prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Next >

  MORE FROM SHADOW OF JUSTICE  
  
Shadow of Justice Section Front
 
Add Shadow of Justice headlines to your news reader:
 

Sponsored links

Resource guide