A Legacy of Justice: Miranda Rights, Due Process, and Integrity with Robert Tanenbaum

Robert Tanenbaum: Mel Glass, who was my mentor in the District Attorney’s Office (DAO), asked me to write it. I spent over ten years as a prosecutor, with about nine years in the DAO in Manhattan, an extremely prestigious and apolitical environment.

The training was rigorous, handling a significant caseload of around 50 post-indictment cases at a time, ensuring quality dispositions without resorting to more plea bargains.

The Miranda case, central to Echoes of My Soul, emerged from this context, highlighting the importance of protecting individuals' Fifth and Fourteenth Amendment rights.

At the time, I was under contract for a two-book deal. Even though I always fulfill my commitments, when Mel called me, I of course agreed.

Mel, who later became a New York State Supreme Court judge, asked me to write this book because he trusted me to tell the story accurately. It surprised me because I thought he was the last person who would want this story told because of its attendant huge publicity. 

Mel had refused lucrative offers from the media—including a $150,000 advance from Life Magazine—because he believed it was unethical to profit from doing his duty as a member of the District Attorney’s office. But some detectives were changing their story and Mel wanted the truth out there.

The book is a tribute to the pursuit of justice and the integrity of those who ensure it prevails.

RT: The book centers on a double murder case involving Janice Wiley and Emily Hoffett, who were brutally raped and murdered in their New York City apartment on August 28, 1963.

It was a building in the fashionable Upper East Side of Manhattan, complete with a doorman. Wiley lived on the third floor with two roommates. The killer saw that their window was open. To get inside the apartment, he used the service entrance and jumped from the service window into the apartment.

During their investigation, the Brooklyn detectives grabbed nineteen-year-old George Whitmore the following year. He had been accused of rape and had a photograph police believed at the time to be Janice Wiley. Whitmore had told the police he’d obtained the photograph at a garbage dump near his home in New Jersey, but the police believed otherwise.

After approximately 17 hours of interrogation, the Brooklyn detectives who questioned Whitmore, manipulated him into giving a confession by asking leading questions—forcing him to admit to details he couldn’t have known because the detectives themselves didn’t even have the facts. For instance, they pressed him about a nonexistent kitchen table, where they presumed Whitmore had allegedly obtained the murder weapon—a knife.

Ironically, the photo that the Brooklyn detectives had found on Whitmore was what brought him into the case, and it was the very same photograph that exonerated him. 

Whitmore was nineteen and in the ninth grade. He kept repeating back to the detectives exactly what they told him, which was what they wanted to hear until they got the confession they sought.

Mel Glass had been in the Manhattan DA’s office for only six years at that point, assigned to the felony trial bureau. Mel’s sister inspired his pursuit of justice in this case. She was a psychologist who worked in that community and didn’t think it made sense for Whitmore to be the killer. Whitmore simply didn’t come across as someone who was capable of brutalizing people. Even if he were, he struggled to make his way to Manhattan and to Brooklyn from New Jersey, let alone solve the complex problem of how to get into that apartment.

Mel took the photograph (found on Whitmore) that the police had marked as “Janice” to her family. But instead of confirming it was she, her family did the opposite. That single piece of evidence blew their whole case apart. Mel tells all of this to District Attorney, Frank Hogan, who at the time himself was legend.

Mel had exonerated Whitmore to Hogan, whose reaction was to call up his bureau chiefs so they could hear Mel’s critique of the case. The bureau chiefs then explained to Hogan, that if Whitmore is exonerated—after he’d given a 61-page stenographic confession—it would render all existing Q&A confessions used in other cases subject to outright disbelief. The bureau chiefs wanted Whitmore to take a plea.

Hogan then asked rhetorically: “When did we become so corrupt? That we’d take a guilty plea from an innocent person? That’s not what we do here.”

The bureau chiefs then responded by suggesting that exonerating Whitmore would damage Hogan’s precious legacy. Hogan gave no concern of how anyone would react, knowing he did the right thing.

His honesty in the instant case actually enhanced his already legend status.

RT: The aftermath was tragic. Max Wiley, Janice’s father suffered when his wife and other family members died. All of which were painful, but the most maddening of all was the murder of Janice. As a result of this intolerable despair, Max Wiley put a .38 caliber gun in his mouth and committed suicide.

As far as Whitmore was concerned, Hogan ordered Mel to go down to court and immediately dismiss the case of People v. George Whitmore. 

RT: When police investigate crimes, they seek out various tips through their informants. But they don’t always talk and a lot of them tend to be minorities. People don’t always know that they’re allowed to say, “I want a lawyer,” when they’re taken into custody and aren’t allowed to leave.

As far as Mel, Hogan, and I were concerned, everyone needs to be protected against violating their Fifth and Fourteenth Amendment rights. You simply can’t force people into testifying against themselves.

In the Miranda case, Chief Justice Earl Warren referenced the George Whitmore case in his opinion, as an example of why it is crucial for all those subject to interrogation to be Mirandized.

Perhaps if Whitmore had been arrested after the Miranda case, he could have asked for a lawyer right away and could have stopped the false confession from ever being planted in the first place.

RT: Starting at public school 238 in Brooklyn, I always had an interest in writing. I would write about various issues and talk to my teachers about them. They were tremendously helpful. 

I wanted to tell the stories in my novels that I didn’t want to tell in my nonfiction books. People mess up, they get lazy, or they don’t always do what they should do. But I didn’t want to hurt those people.

Since I had this unique experience with the DA’s office, I wanted to tell stories about major issues in the justice system in a way that felt true to me without embarrassing others. Most all the names are changed, so it gave me the freedom to write without hurting anyone.

Compared to nonfiction, which is factually demanding, with novels I didn't have to stick to all the facts all the time. I love nonfiction, but my novels are really about war stories, the things I lived through, sometimes embellished, but within the ranks of making graphic points about justice.

So, of course, the family is one of crime fighters, including a DA Marlene Ciampi, who marries Butch Karp in the series. They had three children, and their daughter Lucy is a linguist. It was fun. 

RT: It's all been an expression of the things I've loved in my life. Mel has passed away, but his family is very involved. His daughter, Elizabeth, lives in the Albany area.

They've been in constant contact with me, and I'm very grateful for doing the book about him. I went in the direction Mel wanted, and he loved it, which I loved because of my respect and love for him. I’m glad I was able to show what Mel went through, how he was attacked by bureau chiefs for saying they had the wrong guy, and that Hogan stood up to them. That’s the kind of leadership we need today.

I entitled the book Echoes of My Soul because the whole story is part of my being, and I'm glad I did it. It's my favorite of all of them. This is the only book about a case that I didn’t investigate or try, and that’s partly why I loved writing it. Even though the other cases were more natural for me, having already tried them, I had the luxury of deciding if I wanted to write this story, and that gave me more leeway.

I would like readers to know that my books are about the obligations and necessities of government, the best side of it all, not just the corrupt side. They show the responsibilities we owe the public when you go into government.

That's what my books are about, the values of American exceptionalism—which is a moral concept. That salvation comes from being moral, not in the acquisition of dollars. It's not an arrogant posturing; it's something we owe the public.