The double life of Nicholas Rossi: From Glasgow hospital to Utah prison

In the era of true crime podcasts and Netflix series, this elaborate tale of a double life captured attention on both sides of the Atlantic.

Those who know Nicholas Rossi told me it was a story concocted by a man they described as “a tornado who tore lives upside down”.

I first met Rossi outside court in February 2022, weeks after his arrest in a Glasgow hospital where he had been a Covid patient.

The man at the centre of extradition proceedings had already made quite an entrance at Edinburgh Sheriff Court.

He arrived that morning, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, dark glasses, a three-piece suit and an oxygen mask. His wife trailed behind with a trolley holding the cylinder. He claimed he was in constant need of oxygen and still struggling with the impact of Covid.

Days later, I filmed what will undoubtedly remain the strangest interview of my career.

“Who are you?” It was a simple opening question but in a rented flat in Glasgow’s Woodlands, the man sitting before me in a big leather armchair gave a rambling explanation for using various aliases.

What followed was an extraordinary tale of “Arthur Knight”, an Irish orphan who had never been to America.

He claimed he could prove it but any questions about his childhood and upbringing were quickly dismissed. No birth certificate or passport was ever produced from the folder of papers on his lap.

Sitting next to his wife, Miranda, he handed over a marriage certificate and a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury, but nothing dated before 2020. Promises were made that “irrefutable proof” would be sent on to me, but this email mysteriously never arrived.

At no point during our interview did “Arthur” remove his oxygen mask. He laughed when I questioned his lack of an “Irish accent”. He exploded with rage when I suggested this was all a deception. He vented his fury towards Utah prosecutors, claiming he was an “ill man caught up in a conspiracy”.

Throughout that 2022 interview, he attempted to try and plant the seeds of a tale he later repeated in court. A version of events later dismissed as “implausible and fanciful” by an Edinburgh sheriff.

He claimed his fingerprints and DNA had been taken illegally while he was treated for Covid in Glasgow’s Queen Elizabeth University Hospital by a medic called Patrick.

For a man who insisted he is the victim of mistaken identity, he knew a lot of detail about Nicholas Rossi – or Rosey – as he pronounced it.

The extradition proceedings that followed were to last almost two years. Each appearance at court became more ludicrous, followed by delay after delay.

On the day Sheriff Norman McFadyen ruled there was no legal barrier to his extradition, Rossi had one last parting shot. He claimed to be too unwell to come to court to hear the sheriff’s decision.

Rossi did appear via video link from Saughton Prison and slumped over in his wheelchair, he hid his face from the camera. Then in an angry outburst, he claimed he had been brought before the court by “physical force” and called Sheriff McFadyen “a disgrace to justice.” The video connection was cut.

Sheriff McFadyen went on to conclude that “Rossi was as dishonest and deceitful as he is evasive and manipulative”.

Rossi was flown back to Utah in January 2024. He kept up his act that he was “Arthur Knight” until last October. In a routine bail hearing, he then answered questions in court in a clear American accent.

He admitted he was born Nicholas Alahverdian in Rhode Island and that his name changed to Rossi when his mother remarried.

He claimed he had hidden his identity to escape “death threats” but refused to name who was behind this “plot” – telling the state prosecutor: “I don’t want to give a mouse cheese.”

In his native Rhode Island, some who knew Nicholas Alahverdian were more than a little surprised by the goings on in the Scottish courts because they had been told Alahverdian died in 2020.

Rossi’s stepfather, David, was an Engelbert Humperdinck impersonator.

When I caught up with David Rossi at his home, he described his stepson as “the devil’s spawn”. He said: “He was trouble, and he wanted everything his own way. He is a smart guy, but overly smart and manipulative, very manipulative.”

When Alahverdian’s “obituary” was published in February 2020, David remained unmoved. He told me: “I knew it was bull; he wasn’t dead.”

Former Rhode Island politician Brian Coogan, who almost adopted Rossi as a teenager, was another sceptic when Nick’s “death” was announced.

Brian Coogan knew of Nick’s offending and that he was wanted by the authorities at that time. He said the last time they spoke, Alahverdian called to say he had just two weeks to live.

“He said ‘I have lymphoma, I have cancer’. I said, ‘Really? Cockroaches don’t die’.

“I said, ‘You’re not dying, you’re a sexual predator and you’re trying to escape’.

“When I heard he had been found in Scotland, I had goosebumps. He’s a con artist. I call him a jellyfish – because you can’t pick him up, there’s no spine to it. But it has long tentacles and can sting you.”

For over two decades, Nicholas Rossi has taken on different personas, used various aliases and invented many back stories. Now he can no longer hide the truth.

The convicted rapist will spend at least the next five years behind bars.