Rewriting the ‘Trash Chute’ narrative: The untold story of John Fiocco Jr.

By Liz Ciocher
News Editor

The start of the spring semester is generally a happy time at the College. With warmer weather approaching and commencement around the corner, the mood of students is generally happy and contained — but not in the spring semester of 2006. 

It was late March, and the Mercer County Prosecutor’s Office was holding a press conference to discuss what they’d found — the mysterious liquid in and around the dumpster of Wolfe Hall was confirmed to be the blood of student John Fiocco, Jr. 

The conference was four days after Fiocco was reported missing at the College. He was a freshman graphic design major and a resident of Wolfe Hall. But after this conference, Fiocco’s story would begin to shift. Once the prosecutor made this confirmation, the student’s disappearance became more mysterious and eventually became the tagline of Fiocco: The student that ‘went down the trash chute,’ the ‘dumpster kid’ from Wolfe Hall. 

But that’s not all he was. 

The press conference was the beginning of the end for this investigation. This detail is one of the only sure-fire facts on Fiocco’s case — one that remains open today, 18 years later. 

From March 25 to April 25 of 2006, a search for Fiocco spread through campus and the surrounding areas until his remains were found in a waste disposal site in Tullytown, Pennsylvania. The blood in the dumpster and the disposal site provided answers about where the student was, but there was nothing to assure anyone of the logistics of how he got there. 

This left the door open for plenty of speculation from the media. Rumors would fly about Fiocco and the College, guesses about whether the student could fit down a trash chute, if he had access to the freshmen dorm’s trash compactor rooms or if there was anyone else with access, either. Eventually, it was determined there was no way he went down the trash chute, but he quickly began to be remembered as a mystery. 

Intrigue is an easy thing to attach to, especially for students who were not at the College at the same time as Fiocco. But there are more things to remember about our fellow student than just the circumstances of his death. 

In interviews with The Signal, the father, brother, two sisters and a floormate of John Fiocco Jr. spoke on the things about John they don’t have to wonder about. 

John was the oldest of four, followed by brother Nick Fiocco and sisters Kelly Bast and Brooke Bonilla, respectively. Born in 1987, he grew up as a ’90s kid and loved things like Green Day, Batman and WWE. But above all, John loved his family. 

“He was the definition of an older brother where he was very much like the glue for our family,” Bonilla said. “We all looked up to Johnny.” 

Bonilla, 30, was the youngest of the Fiocco family at the time of her brother’s death. At only 12 years old, she remembered him as naturally funny, humble and sweet. In her interview, she shared some memories with John that she felt showed a lot about his personality.

“I had a friend come over once, and [John] answered the door and was like, ‘Oh, hey sweetheart’ and, and my friend ran over to me and was like ‘Johnny just called me sweetheart!’ It was so cute, he was like an old soul,” said Bonilla.

Bonilla’s 12-year-old friend was not the only person in Bonilla’s memory that admired and liked John. There were so many other people that felt this way, in fact, that she remembers a nickname for her brother as ‘CPJ.’

“They called him CPJ, ‘cool, popular John’,” she said. “It was like a joke, but it was true, everybody loved him.” 

The second sister and second youngest sibling to Fiocco was Bast. She was just going on 15 at the time of Fiocco’s death, and shares similar memories to her sister Bonilla. She agreed with how important family was to John and that he was the definition of an older brother. 

Bast, 32, talked with The Signal about how she looked up to her brother as a role model. She followed in his footsteps with a lot of things, like the sports he played in high school and the personal morale he followed.

“I always looked up to him. I ran track because he ran track,” Bast said. “I do think all those things we just talked about really did affect me in a positive way in a sense where I’m like, ‘wow, what a short life lived and impacted me [so much].’”

The two sisters had a close relationship with their older brother John, but the second oldest of the Fiocco family children, Nick, held him even closer. The brothers share memories from attending sports games, playing video games and playing their own versions of WWE wrestling. Nick talked about these memories in a joint interview with Bast while divulging John’s personality traits.

“Pretty much all before his senior year, his weekends were just kind of hanging out at home. I feel blessed being able to have spent all that time with him,” said Nick. “He always found time to prioritize his family and friends. He was very goal oriented and really wanted to do what was the best for his future. He was always trying to do the best thing for college and things like that, and trying to do the best he could to move forward, thinking about the future.”

The memories the Fioccos have of growing up with John provide a vivid image of the type of brother he was. But as members of the College, we can also look at the kind of person he was and his reflection on this community. As a freshman at the time of his disappearance, John was a student at the College for less than two semesters. 

This short period of time did not stop John’s personality from reaching those around him. Students who lived with John in Wolfe wrote letters to The Signal a year after his disappearance, sharing details of what they learned from their time with him and the friendships they developed. 

One of the students on John’s floor, Ray Lodato, came back to speak with The Signal about the kind of person and student John was in this community.

In an email, Lodato, 2009 alum, described John with some of the most amazing adjectives and characteristics we wish to see in a friend.

“John was truly the best of us — genuine, kind, compassionate, thoughtful and unafraid to stay true to his character when tested, even if it was difficult,” he said. “At the same time, he was down to earth, witty, funny and never took himself too seriously. Just tremendous all around.”

The facts of John’s case are not fully established to anyone as of writing. There isn’t anything factual to reflect on, nothing written to tell us the specifics of what happened on the night of March 25, 2006. Presented through John’s friends and family are the things people can speak on and prove.

Prior to beginning any specific interview questions with the Fiocco family, The Signal wanted to give those participating the ability to expand on what they would like to see in the story. Along with the characteristics of John they were willing to share, we asked the Fioccos what they would have liked to have seen in 2006 when John’s story was spread across the media. Even though this piece is being written 18 years later, the family was happy to share their thoughts.

“He didn’t get his story written the way that I think he should,” Bast said. “I’d much rather have the memory of him being all that he was instead of being the 95 possibilities of how he was killed.”

With this in mind, The Signal carried out the interviews, gathering information about who John was and the specifics of what the family and friends would like to be remembered. Along with this conversation, the Fiocco family had additional information they would like to share about their methods of coping and their faith. 

“I had 19 years with this wonderful, beautiful human being. He was a perfect child. And when I say perfect, I mean perfect,” said John Fiocco Sr., John's father. “And there's a reason these things happen, and it's not circumstance. It will allow you to get closer to [God]. You know, because our weaknesses make us strong.”

John Sr., as well as the rest of the family, do not hold any antipathy toward the College or any of the investigators on John’s case. They did, however, express speculation that John’s death is the fault of another individual, but there is no animosity toward this individual either. 

“I have no problem with [the College], it is what it is,” John Sr. said. “If this person came out today and said ‘Okay, I did it,’ it would close some doors for other people, but I don’t need to know. If I meet this person, I hope I meet them in heaven.”

All members of the Fiocco family have expressed strong ties to their religion and their faith. John’s mother, Susan Fiocco, died last February, and the family spoke of their peace of mind knowing the two are together again in heaven.

Since the tragedy, there were things that were done to honor John’s legacy as an individual rather than an incident. In 2006, a Hope Tree was planted in commemoration of the student, which still stands today. The tree can be found behind the R. Barbara Gitenstein Library, facing the science buildings. While the plaque dedicated to John is no longer present with the tree, the department of facilities is currently working on its replacement.

John Sr. and Bonilla visited campus to see the tree’s growth, and while they did express disappointment in the missing plaque, members from the campus community have shown strong feelings about it as well. 

“On behalf of those who knew and loved John, I kindly request the College replace the plaque that was laid down at the base of John’s memorial tree,” Lodato wrote. “John was exactly the kind of person the College wants in a student - and his memory needs to be kept alive on campus.”

Along with the memoriam of the tree, the Fiocco family developed a scholarship fund in John’s name for graduating seniors at his old high school, Clearview High School, in Mantua, New Jersey. 

The scholarship is awarded to a student with similar traits to John, an artistic student athlete with strong integrity who has maintained a GPA above 3.0.

The scholarship has been awarded to a new student every year since 2007, maintaining John’s memory within the Clearview community.

The Fiocco family also has a P.O. box for this award, listed below, where people can freely send donation checks to the scholarship, along with photos or any written memories with John they would like to share with the family. 

John Anthony Fiocco Jr Memorial Scholarship Award 
PO Box 130. Richwood NJ 08074

John Fiocco Jr.’s memory as ‘the dumpster kid’ or ‘the boy that died in the towers’ can fade. While this might seem like the easiest way for the College to remember the student from the early 2000s as the years go on, he was much more than that to the Fiocco family and those around him.

“Every day I’ll pray and I’ll talk to Johnny,” Nick said. “I’m always going to him for advice, because he is still my big brother, and that will never change.”