
Bob Gondor a Free Man
Portage prosecutor won't seek
retrial
Saturday, April 28, 2007
James Ewinger, Plain Dealer Reporter
Freedom was just outside Bob Gondor's garage door Friday morning
but it wasn't official -- or even known to him -- until a friend found
two obscure Latin words on a Portage County Web site.
The words were "nolle prosequi," which meant the Portage County
prosecutor was not willing to go ahead with his retrial for a 1988
homicide.
A jury already decided the same case in
favor of co-defendant Randy Resh a week earlier.
No authorities called to tell Gondor that his 16-year ordeal was over,
and he still had to go to county authorities in Ravenna to have his
house-arrest ankle monitor removed.
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Thomas
Ondrey/The Plain Dealer
Clarence Elkins (L) embraces Randy Resh, as Bob
Gondor (R) looks on.
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Until Prosecutor Vic Vigluicci filed his formal motion Friday morning,
Gondor was still at risk of another trial and another conviction, even
though a jury already had acquitted Resh.
And until then, Gondor could not drive, could not leave the small
five-acre Mantua farm where he grew up, could not even contemplate when
or where or how he would spend the rest of his life.
Resh and Gondor were convicted in 1990 for the 1988 slaying of Connie
Nardi, whose body was found in a Geauga County pond. Both men were
freed on bond in January after the Ohio Supreme Court ordered new
trials.
The evidence against them was not physical. There were no tire tracks,
fingerprints, bloodstains or DNA.
There was only the word of Troy Busta, a proven liar who pleaded guilty
to Nardi's slaying to save himself from a death sentence. He testified
in Resh's trial earlier this month.
In a Friday interview, Vigluicci said nothing of the men's innocence.
He said only that Gondor had already served about as much time as a new
conviction would have merited, and also that it was unlikely that
prospective jurors had not heard about last week's acquittal.
Cleveland attorneys Mark Marein and Steve Bradley, part of the defense
team for both men, were less circumspect.
As friends and family began to rally around the men in Gondor's garage,
Marein described them as innocent victims whose prosecution should tell
the public "that it could happen to anybody."
As he spoke, English and Hungarian flowed together in the garage where
Gondor spent most of this year, cleaning it, working on his late
father's car, rebuilding a work bench - anything to relieve stress and
create a diversion.
The Hungarian belonged to a large part of Gondor's clan, a portion of
the Hungarians who have lived in the area for years, said Patty
Vechery, a friend.
The car, a Porsche 944, stood as one of many reminders of what Gondor
lost. He could not drive it or even seek a driver's license until he
was freed Friday. And Gondor's father, who bought the flood-damaged car
at an auction, died while his son was in prison.
Next to it stood a 1975 Norton 850, a ferociously fast motorcycle that
carries an opaque layer of dust from 16 idle years.
Gondor said he intended to put that back on the road, too.
But first, before he would entertain any thoughts of that, or even sip
his first celebratory beer of the day, he and brother Jim drove to
their dad's grave for a 15-minute visit.
Gondor brushed off questions about suing the state for their wrongful
convictions and imprisonment.
"I'll tell you what I told people in prison when they asked me that,"
Gondor said: "I'll take the second step out of prison after I take the
first step."
Clarence Elkins already has taken both of those steps and was in the
garage Friday to inaugurate their restored freedom. He was freed in
2005 after serving around seven years - less than half the time Gondor
and Resh served - for rapes and a murder he didn't commit.
Elkins won more than $1 million from the state.
His advice to Gondor and Resh: "Slow and easy. Try not to get too
overwhelmed."
Gondor observed that at least he and Resh got to ease into freedom a
little at a time, while Elkins went directly from prison to the shock
of total freedom.
Even when Gondor went to get the ankle monitor removed, Resh had to
drive him.
Vechery is eager for Gondor to get his license, too. "He's a terrible
back-seat driver," she half-joked, speculating that that might be a
"prison thing, you know, you don't have control of everything."
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