他们不知道，一群小心翼翼的侦探开着没有标记的车，在后面尾随而来。当威尔逊从汽车管理局走出来回到克莱斯勒车上，他看到这些家伙都坐在车上，当他在开车回纽约的路上发现他们在后面时，意识到被跟踪了。
有那辆大马力加速的克莱斯勒车，威尔逊认为可以甩开他们。在到达市区前他一直做的很好。在百老汇和421街的交叉路口，为了避免撞上横向的车辆，他不得不在红灯前紧急刹车停下来。在他再次启动前，侦探们的小车把他截住了。警察的官方版本是这样说的，看上去威尔逊想要去拿枪，在随后的一连串射击中，一颗子弹射中威尔逊头部的一侧，切断了视觉神经，威尔逊永久失明了，丽塔的指尖被子弹切掉了。
佩兰戈没有受到一点伤害，被带到了警察局。如果他老老实实告诉他们我们的罪行就没有什么问题，我反正是逃犯了。当他们威胁要逮捕他怀孕的妻子时，被逮捕的他彻底屈服了，告诉了他们我住在哪里。
6名纽约侦探，在我的老朋友麦克菲（McPhee）副巡长的带领下，被派到费城来抓我。荷兰人（ Dutch Schultz）有个在警察部门的探子已经把消息告诉了他，然后荷兰人将消息传递给约翰尼费恩斯坦（Johnny Feinstein），这样，他才能够通知到我。
警告信息来的太晚了。6名纽约警察会同4名费城的侦探，藏在大厅正对的公寓里。他们用万能钥匙把门打开，推开奥尔加，蜂拥而上挤在我身上。他们不仅仅把我手上的钱抢走，那个压在我身上的纽约侦探把手伸进我的口袋拿走了我的钱包。
费城警察局局长肖伊马隆（Shooey Malone）也参加了这次突袭，他在费城非常出名，我认为那些从事偷蒙拐骗人都认识他也不出奇。一有机会，我把他拉到一边，眼睛看着那一袋钱，建议我们或许可以找到好办法协商处理。"哎呀，"他难过的说。"这里有6个纽约的侦探和我们一起。我们无法做任何交易。"
不行？几分钟后，那个偷走我钱包的侦探发现钱包里有2000美元，然后把我带过一边，"不要提及这个钱包，"他悄悄地说，"我会给你一半，我们对半分。"好的，没问题。"成交。"不用说，我一分钱也没有得到，我甚至没有从这个纽约侦探那得到一包烟。
除了我从（ Corn Exchange）银行抢劫分到的3500美元外，袋子里还有我自己的3500美元。从银行抢来的钱回到了银行，另外3500美元则消失了。在法官宣判我的刑期是25年到50年之间后，他问，"他被捕的时候，身上有钱吗？"在控告席上有人大叫，"有，1500美元。""那好吧，"法官说到。"再罚款1500元。"这打消了我要发表意见的想法。
对于费城司法的公正性来说，当地人的自豪感毫无疑问是一个因素。审判法官哈利.S.麦克德维特（Harry S. McDevitt）曾经在审判前公开宣称，他要给威廉萨顿知道，没有任何州外的小偷能够来到费城抢劫银行。多年后，哈利.S.麦克德维特（Harry S. McDevitt）法官因为收受贿赂被送进监狱，这足以显示，当地的非法行为受到了更多的关注。
但是在他给予我惩罚时，以及当最高法院最终要求初审法官更加关注宪法，他不经意成为我的有利因素时，并非如此。
原文
161-162页
Unknown to them, they were followed by a carful of detectives in an unmarked car. As Wilson was getting back into the Chrysler outside the license bureau, he saw all these guys sitting in this car and when he spotted them behind him on the way back to New York he realized that it was a tail.
With the tremendous power of his hyped-up Chrysler he felt he could outrace them. He was doing pretty well, too, until he hit the city line. At the intersection of Broadway and 241st, he had to jam on the brakes at a red light to avoid the cross-traffic. Before he could start up again, the car with the detectives had cut him off. The official police version was that Wilson had appeared to be reaching for a gun. In the fusillade of shots that followed, a bullet went into the side of Wilson’s head, severing the optic nerve and leaving him permanently blind. Rita had a fingertip shot off.
Perlango, who had escaped without a scratch, was brought to police headquarters. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had simply told them about our crimes, I was a fugitive anyway. But when they threatened to place his wife, who was pregnant, under arrest he capitulated completely and told them where I was living.
Six New York detectives, headed by my old friend Captain McPhee, were dispatched to Philadelphia to pick me up. One of Dutch Schultz’s contacts in the police department had been able to get the word to him, and the Dutchman had passed it on to Johnny Feinstein so that he could warn me.
The warning came just too late. The six New York cops had picked up four detectives in Philadelphia, and they were already secreted in the apartment directly across the hall. They had opened the door with a pass key, shoved Olga aside, and swarmed all over me. Not only was the money grabbed out of my hand, the New York detective who was lying on top of me reached into my pocket and lifted my wallet.
The police commissioner of Philadelphia had also been in on the raid. Shooey Malone, a very well-known person in Philadelphia. I think it would be fair to say that all the people in the rackets knew Shooey Malone. At the first opportunity, I took him aside, let my eyes run to the bagful of money, and suggested we might be able to work out a way to square this. “Gee,” he said sadly. “We have six New York detectives with us. We can’t do any business.”
Oh no? A few minutes later, the detective who had lifted my wallet took me aside, having discovered by then that there was two thousand dollars in it. “Don’t say anything about the wallet,” he whispered, “and I’ll give you half. We’ll go fifty-fifty.” Okay. Sure. “You got a deal.” It goes without saying I didn’t get a dime out of it. I didn’t even get a pack of cigarettes from this New York detective.
In addition to my thirty-five-hundred-dollar cut from the Corn Exchange Bank, there had been thirty-five thousand of my own money in that bag. The money from the robbery went back to the bank. The other thirty-five thousand just disappeared. After the judge hit me with a sentence of twentyfive to fifty years, he asked, “Did he have any money when he was arrested?” Somebody at the prosecution table piped up, “Yeah, fifteen hundred dollars.” “All right,” the judge said. “I’ll fine him the fifteen hundred.” And that kind of discouraged me from making an issue of it.
In fairness to Philadelphia justice, it should be said that local pride was undoubtedly a factor. The sentencing judge, Harry S. McDevitt, had announced publicly before the trial that he was going to show Willie Sutton that no out-of-state thieves were going to come into Philadelphia and rob their banks. That the local talent was treated with far more consideration was amply demonstrated in later years when Judge McDevitt was sent to jail himself for accepting bribes.
But not before he had become both my nemesis and—when the Supreme Court eventually demanded that trial judges pay more attention to the Constitution—my unwitting benefactor.