After he killed her, Garrow said, he ran to downtown Syracuse. He went back to his car and then drove home where he had dinner with his wife, Edith. Then Garrow informed the jury of how he had told both his attorneys, Francis Belge and Frank Armani, the details of each of these murders and where the bodies of the victims could be found. He said these conversations took place months ago and that the attorneys had brought him photos of the dead girls for him to identify.

For three days, Garrow testified to a series of seven rapes and four murders whose details both shocked and angered the court. Whenever he seemed like he was coming to the end, he would remember another crime or another rape and go into long, convoluted details about the event. Belge let him continue unchecked for it was his hope that the jury would decide that Garrow was insane and come to the conclusion that he was “not guilty, by reason of insanity.”

However, it was an unrealistic expectation because the truth was obvious to nearly everyone:  Garrow both knew the difference between right and wrong and was aware of the consequences of his actions. If a defendant meets those criteria, he cannot be insane. It didn’t matter how many people he killed or if he’d had sex with farm animals and masturbated with the milk machine.

The Predator

On June 27, 1974, with both the prosecution and the defense finished with the presentation of their case, Judge Marthen charged the jury. “If you find beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant, at the time he acted was not suffering from a mental disease or defect of such a nature that he lacked substantial capacity to know or appreciate the nature and consequence of his conduct and that conduct was wrong…then you must return a verdict of guilty of murder,” he said to the court. This was the standard instruction for a finding of “not guilty by reason of insanity” verdict.

Although Garrow was obviously a deranged individual, his attorneys had offered no proof that he did not know that killing a human being was wrong. He had run from the police, which indicated guilt, and testified that he had killed before. He also said he had concealed the bodies and expected to go to jail for what he had done. All these facts pointed to a man who knew that murder was wrong.  After only two hours of deliberations, the seven-man, five-woman jury reached a verdict.

At 6:22 p.m. that day, the jury returned to the court and announced their verdict. Garrow was found guilty of murder in the first-degree. He accepted the decision without any apparent emotion and was quickly wheeled out of the courtroom after the jury was polled.

On July 1, Garrow was sentenced to 25 years to life. “I’m sorry it happened,” he said of the murders. Garrow was transported to upstate Clinton prison, in Dannemora near the Canadian border. Garrow’s injuries continued to pain him and he frequently complained of paralysis. But his physical condition may not have been as severe as he made it out to be. A physical exam, conducted before the trial, indicated Garrow was malingering and exaggerating his injuries for his own benefit.

In an affidavit filed February 21, 1974, Doctor Frank Dick wrote his findings. “Robert Garrow’s failure to walk is partially subjective…there is no restriction of the movement of Robert Garrow’s left leg when he left Physician’s Hospital in Plattsburgh, New York on September 19, 1973,” the doctor wrote.

Furthermore, he pointed out “the alleged problem regarding his back is in the opinion of your deponent entirely subjective because there is no apparent cause for this problem as the gunshot wound received in the back was entirely superficial.” Under constant surveillance by the Correction Department and pumped full of painkillers, which he demanded for his alleged injuries, Garrow fell into the routine of prison life. But for attorneys Francis Belge and Frank Armani, the trouble was just beginning.

The public fury over their conduct in the defense of Garrow grew into a firestorm following the revelations that the two lawyers had withheld the location of the bodies of Susan Petz and Alicia Hauck.

"In the Highest Tradition"

A state court directed the state bar association to investigate the behavior of both lawyers during the defense of their client, not only for ethical violations but for criminal conduct. The press continued to report the story and the issue became part of a national dialogue on the ethics and morals of defense attorneys. The New York Times reported that Belge and Armani “told neither police nor one of the dead woman’s parents who had come to them seeking information concerning her whereabouts. They only came forward with their jolting admission only after their client had waived the privilege“ (June 17, 1973).

Everywhere, it seemed, controversy followed Belge and Armani. In July 1973, Onondaga District Attorney Jon Holcombe announced that a grand jury would probe the conduct of both lawyers to ascertain if their behavior constituted a crime. “Citizens are in an absolute rage here,” he said to reporters on July 1. Armani was furious and said he was “stunned and shocked” by Holcombe’s decision to convene a grand jury. “Any lawyer with any guts who knew what he was doing would have done the same thing,” Armani said to the press, “but the law profession is composed of many different kinds of lawyers.”

But Belge and Armani had supporters as well. A well-known Chicago attorney told the Los Angles Times: “I’m in complete agreement with these lawyers. They operated in accordance with the highest traditions of the legal profession.”  The concept of lawyer-client confidentiality is long-established in U.S. history and by 1973, it was written into law in 48 of 50 states.

Professor David Mellinkoff, author of The Conscience of a Lawyer and an expert on legal ethics, explained the complexities of the issues. He told The New York Times that a lawyer is obligated to protect a client’s confidentiality but,  as an officer of the court, he cannot alter or conceal evidence in an ongoing investigation. The bodies of Susan Petz and Alicia Hauck were considered evidence and, during their visits to their gravesites, Belge and Armani may have disturbed the crime scenes.

A lot of people wondered why one of the lawyers didn’t simply contact the police anonymously and tell them where the bodies were buried. At least the families of the victims could have closure and the victims would have proper interment. But according to some legal experts, even that would have been a violation of oath. And evidence, such as hairs, fibers or blood gathered at the scene of the crime could have been used against their client.

In February 1975, a grand jury proceeding was begun in Onondaga County to decide if Belge and Armani had committed any crimes when they refused to tell the police, or anyone else, about Garrow’s admissions. When Armani testified, he told the panel how the case had affected him personally. “God only knows that this thing drove me crazy; it really bothered me. And if there was any way I could have, I would have told Mr. and Mrs. Hauck. But my hands were tied. And as a result, this thing has cost me dearly. My law practice failed. I spent nearly $40,000 defending Garrow…I’ve lost about every friend I have. But there was nothing else I could do. Please believe that!”

On February 25, 1975, Francis Belge was indicted by the grand jury for health law violations pertaining to a speedy burial. Given the issues involved, it seemed a trivial charge. The same jury refused to indict Armani on any charges and he was exonerated. Apparently the jury felt that Belge had gone a little further than Armani when he moved Hauck’s body during his visit to Oakwood cemetery in Syracuse. On the day the decision was announced, Armani suffered a heart attack.

Both lawyers received death threats during and after Garrow’s trial. They took to carrying loaded guns in their briefcases and lived in fear for many years that someone would take revenge for their stubborn defense of a ruthless killer like Robert Garrow. Their respective law practices crumbled. Clients and friends deserted them. Debts piled up. Belge gave up his practice and moved to Florida. Armani stuck it out and, over the years, he was able to salvage his practice.

Escape From Fishkill

Garrow spent the first few years of incarceration at Dannemora and Auburn Prison. In both institutions, he claimed that he received unfair treatment and was the victim of police brutality at the hands of the New York State Police. He also said that he was partially paralyzed by gunshot wounds he suffered during his capture in 1973.

As a result, Garrow filed a $10 million lawsuit against New York State citing these and other complaints. Perhaps due to his lawsuit, Garrow was transferred from Dannemora to the less secure facility at Fishkill, New York, where living conditions were a vast improvement over what he was accustomed to at Clinton. The Corrections Department later said that the inmate’s physical condition was the only issue in the transfer. “No consideration other than the fact we had an immobile inmate,” was the motivating factor in the transfer, a deputy commissioner told the press in early September 1978.

Fishkill Correctional Facility is a sprawling complex located in the rolling hills outside the village of Fishkill in Duchess County.  It was built in 1896 on 600 acres of farmland and became a medium-security prison during the 1960s. Fishkill also contained the notorious Matteawan State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where, until the 1970s, inmates were sometimes incarcerated for decades for minor infractions. But the prison was the target of a great deal of criticism during this time for its security procedures.

From 1973 to 1978, an incredible 32 inmates had escaped from the prison. Due to his medical condition, Garrow was placed in a housing unit called the Elderly and Handicapped section, better known as the E & H building.

On the night of September 8, 1978, Garrow placed a dummy that he had constructed from rags and wire onto his cell bed. He tucked a .32-caliber automatic handgun into his waistband and walked out the front door of his cell. An investigation later indicated the gun was smuggled into Fishkill prison in the bottom of a bucket of fried chicken. (Garrow’s 18-year-old son, two inmates and an inmate’s wife were ultimately arrested and charged for the incident.) 

Because he was held in the E &H building, where, security was not as good as it should have been, Garrow was able to walk out of the ward unchallenged. He exited the building and carefully made his way to the chain link fence that surrounded the facility. He managed to climb the fence and drop down to the other side. Then he crawled to the edge of the woods several hundred yards away from the E & H building. Once he had reached an area where he felt safe hidden away in the underbrush, he secreted himself in a spot where he could observe the prison.

By morning, guards discovered Garrow missing. Retired Correction Lieutenant Larry Lisotta, 65, recalled the event well. “We couldn’t believe it. The most notorious prisoner in the system had escaped right under the noses of the guards. It was hard to take,” he said recently. “The entire staff went on alert. The Corrections Emergency Response Team (CERT.) was called out from Greenhaven,” Lt. Lisotta said. The CERT was a special squad made up of specially trained personnel to handle prison emergencies, such as riots, hard to control inmates and escapes.

Police also responded and surrounded the area. Officials believed that Garrow had already left the area and was on his way to the Adirondacks where he felt safe. “The feeling was that he was already in Syracuse,” said Lt. Lisotta. “We searched every inch of the area around Fishkill Prison. But it was a big area and covered with forests. Also right next to the prison was a major interstate highway, route 84 where he could have hijacked a car somehow. But the truth was we didn’t know where he was.”

The public was outraged and scared, especially the communities near the prison facility. Garrow’s crimes and his propensity for violence were well known. “I can’t think of anybody more dangerous to have running around loose,” a police representative told the press.

Search teams from nearby police departments flooded into western Dutchess County. Hundreds of cops, assisted by a wide variety of equipment, aircraft, police vehicles and dogs, descended upon the area around Fishkill Correctional Facility. All stolen car reports in nearby communities were meticulously investigated. Roadblocks were set up everywhere. But unknown to anyone at the time, Garrow was less than two hundred yards away from the prison.

He had found a hole in the ground, crawled in and covered himself with brush and leaves. For three days, he lay there, not daring to make a sound, studying the activity around him. More than once, searchers came within a few feet of where he was hiding. Still, he did not flinch.

On the third day of Garrow’s escape, a CERT team member made a pivotal discovery. Not far from the prison walls, a correction officer located a portable transistor radio. Officials quickly traced the serial number of the radio and found it belonged to Garrow. “That radio convinced us that he was still near the prison,” said Lt. Lisotta, “because we knew we had searched that area previously and no radio was found.”

On September 11, at about 6 p.m., Greenhaven Correction Officer Dominic Arena, 25, performed another search through the fields on the western edge of the prison.. This area was just a few yards from a chain link fence that encompasses the grounds of Fishkill prison. It was also just a stone’s throw from Interstate 84, where thousands of cars passed by every day. “We had an idea that someone could pull over and pick up Garrow very easily without being caught. I think that whoever it was probably drove by several times but was afraid to stop because we had so many officers out searching the area,” said Lt. Lisotta recently. As Officer Arena walked slowly though the bush that afternoon, he heard a quick movement a few feet away. At first he thought it might have been an animal. Suddenly, Robert Garrow emerged from his hiding place and began firing his automatic handgun. Arena was hit in the leg by the first blast and fell to the ground.

The CERT. team opened up with shotguns, rifles and handguns. Garrow was hit with a barrage of gunfire. He was sent reeling backwards and was dead before he hit the ground. An autopsy later determined that three .38-caliber bullets had pierced his heart and lungs.

Sacred Trust?

Attorneys Francis Belge and Frank Armani paid a heavy price for their questionable conduct in defense of Garrow. For years, they continued to defend their decision to withhold information that would have led to the discovery of Susan Petz and Alicia Hauck. Both men believed their conduct was in compliance with their oath as attorneys.

“To Belge and me, this oath was and is a serious matter, a sacred trust. At the time we took our oath of office, neither of us had the slightest idea of the awesome consequences it would someday carry,” Armani later wrote. In 1984, Frank Armani co-authored a book called Privileged Information, which is a lengthy explanation of why the two lawyers did what they did.

The grand jury indictment against Belge was eventually dropped and neither attorney ever faced any criminal charges for their conduct during the Garrow case. The New York State Bar Association later found there had been no violation of legal ethics when they failed to report the location of the dead bodies to authorities. Belge died at age 63 in Lake Worth, Florida, in 1989.

As a result of Garrow’s sensational escape, Fishkill Correctional Facility instituted new procedures that vastly improved its security and alleviated fears of the surrounding community.   As bad as it was, Garrow’s escape was not the worst scenario for the prison’s reputation. It was just the latest in a long series of escapes from the facility. In May 1977, 10 inmates escaped from the prison in a mass outbreak that had citizens and politicians outraged. Four of the escapees were convicted killers. All were captured without loss of life.

In the fall and winter months, the roads in Lake Pleasant are usually quiet and serene. But during the hectic summer season, a multitude of tourists can be seen hustling through the rustic Adirondack village tending to their chores and shopping excursions.

The community has long since returned to a sense of normalcy since the terrible events of 1973 and the trial of Robert Garrow.  “I was only a teenager when that all happened,” said County Clerk Jane Zarecki recently, “but I went to the trial often and I tell you, I never heard of such things in my life. I almost couldn’t believe it. During that time period, the town became paranoid, people locked their doors, slept with loaded guns under their pillows.”

In a sense, Garrow destroyed or affected almost everyone he came into contact with, including his own family. His son, Robert Jr., was eventually convicted in the jailbreak of his father and was sentenced to four years in prison for his crimes. He has been in trouble with the law several times over the years.  But Garrow would never live to see his son in jail. Even during his own trial, he had a premonition he wouldn’t live very long. “I feel bad about it all…right now, you got me living on borrowed time,” he told the court.

A newspaper editorial, published a few days after Garrow’s death, put into harsh words what a lot of people already believed, “Justice was served in the shooting death of Robert Garrow this week…he was a malignant cancer on the society that fostered him...less than useless to the human race” (Poughkeepsie Journal, September 14, 1978).  Garrow is buried in Oakwood Cemetery in  Syracuse, New York, not far from where Alicia Hauck was murdered.