The Unlikely Confessor: Paul Skalnik’s Journey

Paul Skalnik had this bizarre knack for being in prison just when murder suspects felt the need to confess their crimes. It’s quite the story, really. Pamela Koloff details this in her intriguing book, “Catch the Devil: A True Story of Murder, Deception, and Injustice on the Gulf Coast,” describing Skalnik as a small-time con artist whose routine of deceit was unnervingly effective. According to her, it seemed that every time he landed behind bars, various men felt compelled to share their secrets with him.

Take the summer of 1981 as an example. While Skalnik sat in Pinellas County Jail on grand larceny charges, potentially facing five years, he made a collect call to the state attorney’s office in Clearwater, Florida. He claimed to have information on three individuals awaiting trial for murder, alleging that they had either partially or fully confessed to their crimes.

By 1984, Skalnik had already testified against or provided intel on at least 27 defendants from the county jail, directly contributing to the conviction of four men sentenced to death. It’s rather striking that prosecutors seemed unfazed by the fact that a man with his dubious history could extract confessions so rapidly—it’s almost like they were blinded by their eagerness for results.

Skalnik lived a colorful life as a low-level hustler. His list of exploits included marrying nine times, writing bad checks, stealing from vulnerable individuals, impersonating various professionals, and constantly changing his identity whenever it suited him. He masqueraded as a Southwest Airlines executive, a Stetson law student, a Marine, and even an attorney from Boston named Avery Harrison.

But prison, surprisingly, became his most fruitful arena. He began to thrive as an informant. His first significant role came in 1978 in Houston after he ended up in Harris County Jail for check fraud. There, he got involved with Thomas Hirschi, one of three activists charged in a riot. After contacting an acquaintance in the district attorney’s office, he managed to gain a temporary release from jail and provided what he claimed were incriminating details about Hirschi’s conversations.

Moving to Florida in the early 1980s, Skalnik worked in the law library at Pinellas County Jail. Frightened inmates often brought their legal documents to him, and he used his understanding of prison terminology to present himself as helpful. He’d read local news articles, note the details of various cases, and then call the prosecutor’s office claiming that the inmates had confessed—much to the delight of the prosecutors, who noted such developments with enthusiasm.

Essentially, Skalnik became the key witness prosecutors believed they needed to transform complicated cases into clear narratives. In return, he received leniency, with numerous opportunities to fall back into his criminal ways. Koloff refers to him as “the man closest to the state, the witness whose words prompted jurors to choose death.”

On the witness stand, Skalnik often portrayed himself as a reformed individual, claiming, “I still have law enforcement inside me.” When questioned about receiving any benefits for his testimony, he denied it, insisting he was worse off than he’d been otherwise.

Behind the scenes, prosecutors were actively supporting him, ensuring he remained close to defendants awaiting trial. The focal point of Koloff’s book is the case of James Daley, a Vietnam veteran. After three harrowing tours, Daley returned home a changed man. By 1985, he had succumbed to alcoholism and ended up in Pinellas County, hanging out with a rough individual named Jack Percy.

On May 5, 1985, 14-year-old Shelley Boggio crossed paths with Percy and Daley. Tragically, her body was later discovered under a bridge, brutally stabbed multiple times. Things took a turn during a polygraph test when Percy inadvertently implicated himself, suggesting he needed to speak with a priest due to recurring nightmares. Ultimately, he shifted the blame onto Daley.

Detective John Halliday meticulously documented each of Daley’s cellmates, most of whom were unhelpful. However, soon after, Skalnik claimed he had information that Daley had confessed. Daley argued to his lawyer that the entire situation was absurd, sketching a diagram to illustrate how conversations in their cell would have required loud shouting, in full view of guards.

During the trial, Skalnik testified that Daley said the girl would “keep looking at him, screaming, and not die,” a line that stuck with jurors. Meanwhile, the defense couldn’t seem to turn up anything significant. Koloff noted that the trial became so convoluted that several jurors actually fell asleep.

The jury took less than two hours to return a guilty verdict, unanimously recommending the death penalty. Just five days post-verdict, Skalnik walked free from prison.

However, after his release, parole officials were less than impressed with his behavior. They reported that Skalnik was a constant danger to society, highlighting that his fraudster persona left a trail of victims unable to recover from their losses.

Skalnik continued to reinvent his life until the routine eventually lost its appeal. Koloff encountered him in a federal prison in Texas in 2018, where he brandished a cloth with dried blood and mentioned he was dying of cancer. He tantalized with promises of revealing everything about his informant past, yet those confessions never materialized. Koloff later reflected on how she’d been drawn in, realizing too late that Skalnik was deceiving her.

Skalnik passed away in a Texas nursing home on March 10, 2020, just before COVID-19 disrupted the world, and his ashes are still missing.

Daley remains on Florida’s death row, having recently turned 80. He occupies his time by painting scenes from his childhood in Kansas, using art supplies he obtains from the jail’s commissary.

A prosecutor once defended the use of informants like Skalnik with the phrase, “To catch the devil, you have to make a deal with the sinner.” Yet Koloff’s conclusion digs deeper: “What made him dangerous wasn’t his cunning but rather how easily his lies were magnified by a system meant to uphold the law.” In the end, prosecutors thought they had found someone to help them catch the devil, but instead, they had just a smooth-talking scammer who knew exactly what to say.