'The Rabbi And The Hit Man'
A husband killing his wife is a story heard before, but it's not often that the husband is a rabbi. It may be the reason why the first trial of Fred Neulander, a rabbi from Cherry Hill, N.J., ended in a hung jury.
Neulander may have been the first American rabbi ever tried for capital murder, but that didn't stop a second jury, last November, from convicting him.
Arthur Magida tells the story of the rabbi in his new book, "The Rabbi and the Hit Man."
Magida visited Monday's The Early Show to discuss the case and his book.
The author says he followed the Neulander story since it began on Nov. 1, 1994, and recorded what he learned.
He says there was a surprisingly quick resolution to the eight-year murder mystery. After just four days of deliberations, a jury declared Rabbi Fred Neulander guilty of hiring a hit man to murder his wife.
After almost six years of not knowing who had brutally beaten Carol Neulander to death, Leonard Jenoff finally admitted that he and another man had been hired by the rabbi to kill her.
"As was explained by Neulander, I absolutely had two jobs to do," explained Jenoff during his time in court. "Kill his wife, and walk away with the burgundy pocketbook."
As for the motive, it was revealed that Neulander had been cheating on his wife with numerous women, including Elaine Soncini, who said she heard ominous words from Neulander before the murder of his wife.
"He had said that he wished that she were gone," said Soncini during the trial. "He wished that she were gone, that 'poof' she were gone. That her car would go into the river."
In the end, it may have been Neulander's lack of emotion that night and throughout the trials, and his children's damning testimony about the night his wife died that sealed his conviction.
"His clothing was unwrinkled, his tie was neatly tied, he wasn't breathing heavily, he wasn't crying or showing any outward sign of grief or remorse at all," said Matthew Neulander, Fred's son, during the trial.
Neulander's life was spared by the court, but he will be behind bars for at least the next 30 years — until he is almost 90 years old.
Read an excerpt from "The Rabbi and the Hit Man":
Chapter One
"There's Blood over Everything"
The sixteen-mile drive from M'kor Shalom to Crescent Burial Park normally took twenty minutes, but so many people joined the funeral procession for Carol Neulander that nearly an hour was required. Police and state troopers were stationed at major intersections to hold back other motorists so that the caravan could wend its doleful way across the landscape. All along the route, commercial enterprises that typified the best—and worst—of the Garden State were copiously in evidence. A BMW dealer whose "Ltd." after its name connoted a certain British classiness (even though BMWs are as Teutonic as any car can get); a splattering of capacious diners, appropriate symbols of an area totally lacking a culinary identity; a small, beige cottage whose neon sign advertised PSYCHIC/TAROT CARD READINGS; and an unending series of motels, sometimes up to eight in a row, featuring "free Continental breakfast" -- watered-down orange juice, instant coffee, doughnuts plucked from cardboard boxes.
The procession inched north on Route 73 for a few miles, then turned south on Route 130 until arriving at Crescent Burial Park. This was the largest Jewish cemetery in South Jersey, yet there wasn't enough room for the multitude of cars. Some people parked on the long, narrow road that stretched the entire length of the cemetery; others hunted for space on neighboring side streets. The hearse and the family's limousines went straight to the far end of the cemetery. Pallbearers carried the plain pine coffin to the burial plot thirty feet away, followed by Carol's children, her siblings, and, of course, her husband. A rabbi who had been friends with Fred and Carol recited verses from Psalms that didn't quite provide the intended comfort:
For He will give His angels charge over thee,
To keep thee in all thy ways ...
Because he has loved Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will see him securely on high, because he has known My name ...
With a long life, I will satisfy him,
And let him behold My salvation.
The freshly dug ground of Grave D in Plot 910 of Section F was just behind the tall green fence that separated Crescent Burial Park from the modest homes bordering on it. Not the best place to raise kids, but an inexpensive one. Carol Neulander would be laid to rest next to her in-laws, Sally and Ernest Neulander. Their tombstones lay to the right of Grave D. Off to the left were smaller markers for five children unrelated to the Neulanders. They had died in infancy, some on the very day of their birth: Ellen Shaya. Joshua Adam Brodsky. Eli James Lewis. Baby Carson. Baby Dana Emdur. Carol Neulander had never known them, but she might have been pleased to spend eternity with them. After all, she had been a kind and devoted mother of three, and her interest in children had led her to major in child and adolescent psychology in college.
After more prayers were said, the casket was lowered into the ground and the mourners took turns shoveling dirt on it, according to Jewish custom. The thud of earth on the casket's hard surface was intended to remind people of the absolute finality of death. At last, it was time for the ritual recitation of the kaddish, the prayer that asks for peace for the deceased:
"Yisgadal v'yiskadash sh'mai raba, b'olmo deev'ro chir'usai v'yamlich malchusai b'chayeichon uv'yomeichon v'chayai d'chol bit yisroel, ba'agala u'viz'man kariv v'imru: Amen.
("May your Great Name be magnified and hallowed in the world according to Your will and may Your reign be quickly established, in our own lives and our own day, and in the life of all of Israel, and let us say: Amen.)
"Y'hei shmei raba m'vorach l'alam ul'almenu almaya. Yitborach v'yishtabach v'yitpa'ra v'yitromam v'yitnasei, v'yit'hadar, v'yi'ale v'vit'halal sh'mei d'kud'sha b'rich hu, l'ile min-kol-brichata v'shirata, tush b'chata v'nechemata, da'amiran b'alma, v'imru: Amen.
("May your great name be blessed for ever and ever! All praise and glory, splendor, exaltation and honor, radiance and veneration and worship to the Holy One of Blessing, even beyond any earthly prayer or song, any adoration or tribute we can offer, and let us say: Amen.)
"Y'hei sh'lama raba min-sh'maya, v'chayim aleinu v'al-kol-yis-roel, v'imru: Amen.
("May there be great peace from the heavens, and life for us and for all of Israel, as we say: Amen.)
"Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya-aseh shalom aleinu v'al kol yis-ra'el, v'imru: Amen."
("May the one who makes peace in the high heavens send peace for us and for all of Israel, as we say: Amen.")
Then, the family turned to pass through two parallel lines of relatives and friends uttering a prayer of consolation: "Ha'makom yenachem et'chem b'toch she'ar avelei tziyon vi'Yerushalayim." ["May the Lord comfort you among the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem."] Finally, Fred Neulander and his children -- Matthew, Benjamin, and Rebecca, all young adults -- left the cold November winds for the comfort of the limousine and the somber journey back to the house where Fred had found Carol's lifeless body. She had still been wearing the gold necklace with six small diamonds that Fred had given her a few years earlier on their wedding anniversary. In eight weeks, they would have celebrated their twenty-ninth anniversary.
On the Tuesday night of Carol's murder, Fred had stayed at the synagogue later than usual. M'kor Shalom was always busy on Tuesdays, with choir practice in the evening and lots of meetings for adults while their kids attended religious classes ...
The foregoing is excerpted from The Rabbi and the Hit Man by Arthur J. Magida. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission from HarperCollins Publishers, 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022