Police are looking at whether Florida death-row inmate Joseph Spaziano took part in the gruesome killings of a Chicago couple and the fiery deaths of two witnesses in that case.
The killings involved Outlaws’ motorcycle gang member Michael Dungess and Linda “Penny” Noe, who were shot to death in their North Side apartment on New Year’s Eve 1974.
The case has never been solved – in part because interest lagged after Spaziano was sentenced to death in 1976 for the murder of Orlando hospital clerk Laura Harberts. But the case took a different turn years later when a jailhouse snitch pointed the finger at someone else.
Now Chicago Detective Tony Villardita is reviewing that case and the mysterious deaths two weeks later of Regan Kincaid and her boyfriend, Luther Dickerson.
Kincaid may have been the last person to see Dungess alive. She was helping police when she and Dickerson burned to death in a fire that was later ruled accidental.
The Florida Department of Law Enforcement and the FBI have recently rediscovered statements of witnesses in unrelated cases that implicate Spaziano and another Florida Outlaw – Donald “Tony Z” Zwierkowski – in the killings.
Chicago police had stopped pursuing the case after Spaziano was sentenced to death in Florida. Other agencies failed to send the statements to Chicago police for the same reason: The belief that Spaziano, whose biker nickname is “Crazy Joe,” would die in the electric chair.
“The information we have now indicates this case needs to be looked into,” Villardita said. “I only wish we’d had this information sooner.”
Witnesses include:
Darcy Fauss, 41, who spent 17 months with Spaziano as his “old lady,” partly in Chicago. Fauss said Spaziano and Zwierkowski left a New Year’s Eve party and returned splattered with blood. She said she heard Spaziano fretting that he would be caught and executed for the killings.
Willie “Gatemouth” Edson, 48, a former Outlaw now in the federal witness protection program. Edson told Florida and federal investigators in 1978 that Spaziano and Zwierkowski asked him to help kill Dungess and Noe. Edson said he refused but that Spaziano and Zwierkowski later described to him in detail how they executed the couple.
Ralph “Lucifer” Yannotta, 55, a former Outlaw and convicted murderer also in the witness protection program. Yannotta, whose testimony helped send a half-dozen Outlaws to prison, said Spaziano had bragged to him about the killings. During the conversation, which occurred in prison, Spaziano said he had killed a couple in Chicago because he had told them about an Orlando murder and wanted to silence them, Yannotta said.
Fauss told The Orlando Sentinel that she and Spaziano were hiding out in Chicago in 1974 while he was on the run from an Orange County rape charge. Chicago police and other investigators confirm this, adding that Spaziano rose through Chicago’s Outlaws ranks to become an enforcer, disciplining members.
Outlaw turns tails
Evidence of his rank appears in the book, Hell’s Angels: Three Can Keep a Secret if Two are Dead. Author Yves Lavigne wrote that Spaziano and Edson, another Chicago enforcer, were bodyguards for Outlaw security chief Pete “Greased Lightning” Rogers during a meeting with mob bosses in early 1975 at a Chicago pizzeria.
Edson turned on the Outlaws in the late 1970s while serving 20 years for weapons and robbery charges. At a debriefing in 1978, he told South Florida authorities about the Chicago killings.
In the statement, Edson said Spaziano and Zwierkowski asked him whether he wanted to go with them to kill a suspended club member, “Mike D” and his wife. Edson said he had other plans. A few hours later, Spaziano and Zwierkowski told Edson how they had killed Dungess and Noe.
“Crazy Joe put the gun to Mike D’s face and said ‘Give me one reason why you should be an Outlaw,’ ” the statement says. “Apparently, Mike D couldn’t give the reason and (Spaziano) shot him once in the right eye and then once in the cheek under the eye.”
Edson said he was told Zwierkowski was in the bedroom, trying to slit the woman’s throat. Noe fought hard for her life and, as Zwierkowski held her down, Spaziano shot her twice in the head with a .38-caliber revolver.
Zwierkowski lives in Barberville, 30 miles west of Daytona Beach. He declined to comment to the Sentinel. Spaziano refused to meet with reporters. One of his lawyers, Gregg Thomas of Tampa, had no comment.
Edson and Yannotta could not be reached for comment.
Party turns serious
No one answered the door last week at the Outlaws’ fortresslike clubhouse in Chicago. Their lawyer, Michael Fabing, said he doubted Spaziano was the killer.
He disputed claims that Spaziano was a club enforcer, saying he was too “goofy” and short.
But Fauss said Spaziano had warned Dungess repeatedly to stop shooting up with heroin. Outlaws are barred from using the drug because addicts might sell out the gang to police.
Edson’s statement to authorities dovetails with Fauss’ memory. She told the Sentinel that she and Spaziano attended a New Year’s Eve party at Tony Z’s home. Women were ordered out of the room while four or five bikers, including Spaziano and Zwierkowski, cleaned guns and whispered.
“Close to midnight Joe said he’s taking off and they’d be back later,” Fauss said. “It was so obvious they were going to do trouble. They were packing guns – I mean, they packed guns other times, but this was serious.”
Fauss said Zwierkowski and Spaziano returned after midnight. Both were in a frenzy. Spaziano grabbed Fauss and they left.
Fauss, who was 20 then, said they drove by Dungess’ and Noe’s apartment to look for any police activity. The lights in the upstairs apartment on West Lakeside Place were on. The shades were down.
All the while, Fauss said, Spaziano kept mumbling, “If they catch me, I’ll get the electric chair for this,” and, “We told them not to do the damn heroin.”
When they got home, Fauss saw that Spaziano was splattered with blood. He removed his jeans and boots and told her to clean them.
“I knew something was bad wrong,” said Fauss, who had been friends with Noe. “I said, ‘You killed them, didn’t you? You killed Penny and Mike.’ “
Angry about her friend’s death, Fauss refused to wash the jeans and boots. She said Spaziano flew into a rage and beat her severely.
Two weeks later, Dickerson and Kincaid were killed in a fire at Kincaid’s home. Dickerson owned the Peanut Barrel, a bar around the corner from Dungess’ and Noe’s apartment. Kincaid tended bar.
Kincaid told police she had seen Dungess a few hours before he was killed with a young, skinny biker with long brown hair and a black, three-quarters-length jacket. She helped police prepare a composite drawing, which was published in the daily police bulletin on Jan. 11, 1975.
Six days later, Kincaid and Dickerson died.
Fauss said she was with Spaziano and other Outlaws at the bar a few nights before the fire. She said Spaziano and the other bikers had argued with the owners.
After nine months in Chicago, Spaziano was arrested for disorderly conduct in April 1975 and returned to Orlando because of the outstanding Florida warrant. The Chicago case languished.
Now it has become important again. Gov. Lawton Chiles cited Yannotta’s statement linking Spaziano and an Orlando murder to justify signing a fifth death warrant for Spaziano earlier this year.
Case was never closed
But those working to get Spaziano off death row point to another man whom Chicago authorities thought may have been the killer.
In 1982, a jailhouse informant – an Outlaw whose identity is not known – told police that Michael Wax confessed to killing the biker and his wife. Wax refused to talk to investigators. The informant refused to testify in court.
Chicago prosecutors list the case as “cleared exceptionally,” meaning police had a good idea who did it but couldn’t prove it. Wax was never charged. Some say he is dead.
Chicago Police Cmdr. Philip Cline said the clearing of the case was an administrative action. “It has no bearing on a criminal case,” he said. “This case has never been closed.”
Villardita said police hope to interview witnesses again, including Zwierkowski.
“When we are notified of possible new evidence we sit down and look it over,” Villardita said. “We never get rid of a homicide.”
