The Neptune Murders

At 7:45 A.M outside the New Rochelle Police station, Officer Schraud waited by his patrol car as his day relief, P.O. Allen Mcleod, 29, approached on foot. Mcleod, a six and a half year veteran of the department, had received a medal the year before when he managed to take a gun away from a bank robber. "He was a man of few words" said Chris Schraud recently, now retired. "He was a good cop, did his job, we called him "Deputy Dog," but it was meant in a good way, it was a compliment," Schraud went on to say. Mcleod was a former correction officer in Westchester County. He became a cop in 1970 and lived in Mamaroneck, a small town located near New Rochelle with his wife and two kids.

"Hey Chris, what's happening?" he said that morning.

"Nothing much, a ten-eight (family dispute) earlier, otherwise a quiet night. I topped it off for you, you're good to go."

"Thanks buddy!" Mcleod said as he walked around the patrol car, a cigarette dangling from his lips, checking for any damage for which he may later be held responsible. The door of the patrol unit was open and the radio could be heard clearly in the cold morning air.

"Central to Car 2"

Mcleod grabbed the dashboard mike and answered.

"Two"

A female dispatcher's voice, betraying a slight sense of boredom in its tone and demeanor, gave a reply.

"Two, respond to Neptune Movers on Weyman Avenue. Report of man with a gun. Your time is zero seven fifty."

Schraud, relieved that he missed the detail, joked with Mcleod.

"Better you than me, pal" he said as he picked up his briefcase and walked toward the rear door of the station house. Police Officer Vinnie Juliano, 29, also being relieved from the midnight tour, held the door.

"Hey, Chris!" he said.

"Thanks, Vinnie, quiet night right?"

"Yup, homeward bound" Juliano replied as he walked to the front desk. Schraud signed off his memo book, dropped it on the sergeant's desk and headed for the locker room. Juliano signed off his own book and shoved it across the countertop to the sergeant. Just then, he noticed something unusual. "I saw the phone switchboard light up like a Christmas tree. It was if everyone in the city called the police at the same time. I didn't know what it was, but something was up" he said.

In what would turn out to be the last job for Patrolman Allen Mcleod, he pulled the 1975 Dodge out of the police yard, switched on his roof lights and headed into a firestorm.