Hands Up; or, Thirty-Five Years of Detective Life in the Mountains and on the Plains / Reminiscences by General D. J. Cook, Chief of the Rocky Mountains Detective Association

by D. J.‏ ‎ Cook

CHAPTER VIII.

PURSUIT OF THE ITALIAN MURDERERS BY THE DETECTIVE ASSOCIATION—SMITH AND FORCE ON THE TRAIL—THEY BECOME DISCOURAGED AT PUEBLO, BUT ARE URGED ON BY CHIEF COOK—PART OF THE GAME AT LAST FOUND AT TRINIDAD AND THREE OF THE MURDERERS ARRESTED—THEY CONFESS THE ENTIRE CRIME AND, RETURNING TO DENVER, NARROWLY ESCAPE LYNCHING—ARREST OF DEODOTTA AND “OLD JOE” AT SLOAN’S LAKE, NEAR DENVER, UNDER EXCITING CIRCUMSTANCES.

Meantime the coroner’s jury continued its work. A verdict was rendered in accordance with the facts gleaned concerning the murders as related in the previous chapter, but beyond these nothing was known. The suspected men had disappeared, and it was shown that the crime had been committed nearly a week before it was discovered. Public indignation ran high, and it was feared that, should the murderers be captured, the enraged people would not brook the necessary delay incident to the legal trial of the fiends. This feeling culminated in the firing of the house on Lawrence street a few nights after the discovery of the crime. The firemen confined their attention to the preservation of the adjoining buildings, and by one accord public sentiment allowed the building to be entirely consumed.

The details of the pursuit and capture of the criminals, with the trials and adventures of the detectives, form a most interesting and thrilling narrative, and give an insight into the ways adopted by those keen men who render crime doubly dangerous by making the punishment of the offenders approximately inevitable.

The manner in which the perilous and responsible duty of tracking the murderers was performed proves the chief’s sagacity in selecting Smith and Force for the work. For twenty-one days and nights they tracked the villains. Scarcely sleeping, alike regardless of hot suns, cold rains or chilling snows, through cañons, over plains, wandering through the slums and by-ways, these men of iron nerve and tireless constitution pursued their object until they met with the reward due their skill and perseverance.

Pursuant to the instructions of Chief Cook the detectives started south on Saturday morning after the discovery of the crime. At Pueblo they separated, Force remaining there, while Smith proceeded to Cañon City. The air was full of rumors, many wild and without foundation, while others possessed the element of plausibility. It was no easy task to arrive at anything like a correct opinion by giving credence to any rumor, but after infinite difficulty a trail was discovered at Pueblo leading toward Trinidad. This Mr. Smith was averse to taking, and so telegraphed Gen. Cook, but the latter replied: “Go ahead; the money is mine.” Smith and Force at once joined at Pueblo and hastened to Trinidad. Arriving there they went to a saloon frequented by Italians, and there found some of the very men for whom they were searching, namely, Michiele Ballotti, Silvestro Campagne and Leonardo Allesandri, against whom there were strong suspicions, who were making music for the saloon loafers with all their might. After looking on for a moment to make sure of their game, the officers approached the startled musicians with drawn guns and demanded a surrender, which was sullenly acceded to. Detective Smith at once asked Ballotti when he came to Trinidad. Ballotti answered quite coolly to the effect that he had been there about two weeks, but Silvestro trembled visibly, and seemed to realize that they were about to get into trouble. Being confident that these were the men they sought, the detectives took them in charge and placed them in jail.

Up to the present time it will be borne in mind that there had as yet been no definite clue obtained as to the identity of the murderers. It is true that strong suspicion had been aroused, but, after all, suspicion is no proof. It remained for these three men to “give the whole thing dead away.” When they were taken to jail and searched some of the money taken from old Pecorra’s house was found upon the persons of the men, and when they were stripped the most convincing proofs of their guilt stared the officers in the face. The undershirts which they wore were still saturated with blood—blood which they confessed had flown from the veins of their victims, the padrone and his little boy slaves.

The fact of the crime being once acknowledged, the men were very free to talk, and they not only confessed their own crime, but revealed the names of others engaged with them, and poured into the ears of the detectives the bloody story of the murder which they had committed a few days before in Denver. The same stories were afterwards repeated in Denver, and will be told in their proper place. The names of the murderous band, including their own, as revealed by this delectable trio, were: Filomeno Gallotti, Henry Fernandez, John Anatta, Frank Valentine, Michiele Ballotti, Silvestro Campagne, Leonardo Allesandri, Guiseppe Pinachio and Leonardo Deodotta, all of them being Italians except Fernandez, who was a Mexican.

They also told a story which confirmed Cook’s theory that the band intended to flee to Mexico, and informed the officers where proof could be obtained of the facts in the case. They stated that not only agricultural implements had been secured, but guns and ammunition as well. The party had intended to select as a hiding place some quite, secluded valley, where they could make their headquarters, and whence they, as a band of brigands of the old Italian model, could make their forays upon the traveling and civilized world. They stated further that Gallotti and some of his men had fled from Denver, but that they had left confederates in the persons of Deodotta and old Joe Pinachio, living quietly near Sloan’s lake, who, they said, knew of the whereabouts not only of the implements and munitions to be sent to Gallotti in Mexico, but also of the place at which was hidden away the bulk of the money taken from old Pecorra’s house after the murder, as well. These facts were, of course, promptly telegraphed to Gen. Cook, who acted upon them, as shall be detailed in the proper place.

Within two hours the prisoners were securely ironed, and the next morning they commenced the journey that would terminate in the city where they had committed the terrible crimes, and where the news of their capture was, even then, creating wild excitement.

By 5 o’clock on the afternoon of their arrival a crowd began to gather at the depot. The afternoon was dark and lowering, and a fitful fall of snow chilled the air. But the impatient crowds surged and stamped around in a vain effort to keep warm, determined to suffer rather than to let the prisoners arrive without their knowledge. Day was fading to chill and cheerless night when the train drew up at the platform. A wild rush ensued, but the police kept a passageway open, and the prisoners were soon landed in an omnibus that had been secured for the purpose, officers mounted the top and with Gen. Cook and his assistant detectives inside and an officer on the step, the omnibus started for the jail. Scarcely had the wheels revolved, ere the crowd by one great common impulse made a rush for the vehicle with cries of “a rope!” “a rope!” “hang them!” which were caught up and repeated until the vast array seemed turned into a mighty mob bent on avenging the death of the old man and the boys, determined on a sudden and swift execution of the human birds of prey, and it seemed as though the officers would be powerless to protect the ironed ingrates who trembled as they beheld the wrath of the populace. Chief Cook was there, and his cool and steady eye had watched the pulsations of the throng, and just as the vehicle was fairly surrounded he drew his revolver and ordered the leaders of the mob back. Detective Smith was ordered to present his Winchester, which he did, and the officer on the steps also covered those nearest him. The crowd fell back and the driver lashed his horses into a run, ploughing through the crowd. Numbers followed, intent on overtaking the omnibus and capturing the criminals, while others rushed on to see the results. The tide swept down Blake street in a wild disordered procession. The driver was instructed to push the horses, and in a few moments the prisoners were securely locked in the jail, to their great relief, and to the disappointment of the crowd that had followed, hoping to see them dangle from the limb of some tree or suspended from a telegraph pole.

Great satisfaction was felt that these wretches had been secured, and the public sentiment, which always sooner or later arrives at correct conclusions, could find no praise too flattering for the able superintendent and his worthy assistants.

After hearing the news from Trinidad, and especially that which told of the presence of some of those who had been implicated in the murders near Denver, Gen. Cook was not idle, but he went to work to make investigations here. He began by arresting an Italian known as “Old Joe,” who lived on the ranch near Sloane’s lake, with Deodotta. Joe was placed in jail for a day or so. He was a half-crazy creature, and it was believed that he could be made to tell whatever he might know of the facts in the case. He was consequently informed by Cook that he must either divulge his secrets or submit to sudden annihilation. He promised to reveal everything, but when taken by Gen. Cook out to the place where the treasure was supposed to be buried, he failed to find the spot, either because of ignorance or craftiness.

Better success was had with Deodotta. He was also placed under arrest, and after being told that he must die or tell where the money taken from old Pecorra’s house had been buried, he promised to do all in his power to find it. He was accordingly taken from the jail one morning before sunrise and driven out to his house and told to find the treasure, no one accompanying the detective and his prisoner except the driver of the express wagon. Arriving at the place, Deodotta made a last effort to conceal the whereabouts of the money, and when his protestations were doubted he crossed his breast and prayed with fervor. When Cook swore at him, he crawled on his knees and cried before him like a sniveling cur. After digging in one or two places for the money and failing to find it, Cook leveled his gun at the old sinner’s head and said to him:

“Now find that money in just one minute or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

There was no foolishness now. Quick as thought Deodotta jumped to a spot where lay a bone and where a weed was standing with the top end stuck in the ground, and with two or three strokes of the pick, brought the treasure to light. It consisted of a package of money amounting to $350 which had belonged to the murdered man, and which was picked up and brought back to town by Gen. Cook, and Deodotta once more lodged in jail. Thus was a very essential part of the work performed with but little ostentation and no blow in the newspapers.

[Larger Image]

Finding of the Treasure stolen from old Joe Pecorra by his murderers, under direction of Gen. Cook.

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