New Castle's Kadunce Murders by Dale Richard Perelman

Author:Dale Richard Perelman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arcadia Publishing Inc.
Published: 2019-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

On August 31, while the attorneys awaited an answer to the pre-trial motions, Frank Costal escaped from the Lawrence County Jail with fellow prisoner Edmund Shibble. Throughout his imprisonment, Costal had complained of a variety of real and imagined ailments. He reported a pounding sensation in his chest, a symptom often preceding a full-scale heart attack. Since Costal had a history of heart problems, the guards segregated him from the general population along with twenty-seven-year-old Edmund Shibble, who had been accused of burglary. As the guards escorted the two prisoners to the showers, another prisoner flew into a rage, disrupting the entire jail.

A guard ordered Shibble and Costal to return to their cells and lock the doors. “I’ll check on you as soon as this ruckus is taken care of.” The prisoners went back to their sleeping quarters but left the door unlocked.

In the morning, Shibble whispered to Costal: “How’s about taking a little walk?” He pointed to the unlocked door. “When the shift changes, we can follow the guards out the door. What do you say?”

“Why not. This place sucks, and I got nothing to lose.” Costal ached for a taste of freedom, a breath of summer air.

When the guards changed shifts at noon, the prisoners slipped through the open cellblock door. The admissions officer, Clifford Pollock, spotted the uniformed escapees and wrestled Costal to the ground. Costal, a bear of a man, bolstered by the adrenaline of freedom, overpowered the smaller officer. Within minutes, an alarm blared and a cordon of officers initiated a manhunt in the area surrounding the jail. City and state police joined the sheriff ’s deputies in the search.

A handler brought the escapees’ shirts to a bloodhound. The dog sniffed, groaned and led a posse through the neighborhood. By two o’clock in the afternoon, the dispatcher at the station had received several calls about sighting the prisoners along Epworth Street.

Chuck received a call at home from a female friend, who heard about the escape on her police scanner. Chuck snatched a Kent from his bed stand and lit up. He had spent Saturday night hitting the bars trying to forget Sandy and felt in no shape to drive. “You’ve got to pick me up.”

Spotting a uniformed cop, he asked his friend to pull over to the curb. “What’s going on?”

“Not exactly sure, but two prisoners escaped. I understand they’re just a few blocks from here, and we should have them both soon.”

Abraham sobered. He turned to his driver: “I have to head back home for my gun. Then, I need to stop at the station to pick up a radio. Okay?”

“Sure,” she answered, eager to take part in the excitement.

While Chuck headed home, the bloodhound caught the scent of the escapees. The dog yanked on its leash and dragged the trainer toward Dean Park. Around 3:00 a.m., the police spotted their prey along Union Street. A brief pursuit followed, culminating in a capture before Chuck had time to return.

“Okay, assholes, don’t give us any trouble,” a deputy ordered.

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