Showing posts with label boston mob. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boston mob. Show all posts

Friday, August 14, 2009

Boston capo Jerry Angiulo reported near death


Former longtime Boston Mafia godfather Gennaro “Jerry” Angiulo was near death yesterday from kidney failure, sources told the Herald.
The 90-year-old ex-mobster from Nahant has been on weekly dialysis treatments, sources said, and was hospitalized in Lynn where he was surrounded by family.

A call to Union Hospital in Lynn last night to check on Angiulo’s condition was referred to the intensive-care unit.
There, a medical official said the hospital was not allowed to discuss patients’ cases.
Angiulo was convicted of racketeering, loansharking and illegal gambling in 1986 and sentenced to 45 years in federal prison after his headquarters at 98 Prince St. in the North End was infamously bugged by the FBI with help from the agency’s star informants, James “Whitey” Bulger and Stephen “The Rifleman” Flemmi - the criminal kingpin’s underworld rivals in South Boston.
Angiulo, underboss of New England La Cosa Nostra from the late 1960s until he was busted, was not expected to be released from federal prison until next May, but was paroled in 2007 for good behavior.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Breakfast in OJ trial with Mafioso Anthony fiato






. Anthony Fiato
Breakfast In The Neighborhood: Hearty Food and Toasty Talk (Archive fee)
...hangout for law enforcement officers. Ironically, Anthony (Tony the Animal) Fiato, the reputed mafioso and North End native who testified in the O.J. Simpson trial, also used to favor this place where you can get some killer coffee,the district attorney's office. incredibly...read more.

Boston Globe Archive (Nominal fee required)

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

A rat through and through


The ratings for last night's edition of "60 Minutes" will no doubt be boffo. They had a football playoff game lead-in. They had a segment with Roger Clemens, professional baseball player, denying he took steroids. And they had Johnny Martorano, professional murderer, waxing philosophic about the art of blowing people's brains out.
more stories like this
You'll have to forgive Emily Connors for not tuning in. Johnny Martorano helped murder her husband 33 years ago, as Ed Connors stood in a phone booth in Dorchester.
"You know what?" Emily Connors said of Martorano's schtick. "It's getting old."
She got that right. It would almost be bearable to watch this stuff if we knew it would be over and done with. But it's pretty obvious Martorano's appearance was the launch of another attempt to capitalize on the very marketable concept of the sensitive sociopath. After Martorano wraps up his government-witness obligations, which allowed him to trade the 20 human lives he took for 12 years in prison, there will be another kill-and-tell book. Another movie treatment. Some clueless Hollywood type will be snookered by all this tough-but-thoughtful hit-man jive, and we'll have to endure an endless string of breathless whispers about scripts, stars, and on-location shoots in Southie and Winter Hill.
Liesguys Lit is a lucrative genre. It's revisionist history for murderers, allowing them to imbue their venality with a sense of nobility that is otherwise missing from the brutal act of shooting someone in cold blood.
And the best part for the purveyors of this junk is that almost everyone who can dispute its authenticity is either dead or not talking.
It's just as well Emily Connors didn't watch last night, because Martorano's performance was far more offensive to his victims than anything he said in court some years back when he got the sweetheart deal that allowed him to walk out of prison last year.
Johnny told Steve Kroft he didn't enjoy killing, but that he did it for his family and friends.
What a guy.
You could never pay me to kill anybody," said Johnny, who, by job description, was paid to kill people.
"I didn't enjoy risking my life," Johnny said, "but if the cause was right I would."
He never got around to identifying these causes. Perhaps it was to free Tibet, or maybe help the nuns pay off the mortgage at an orphanage. Oh, and even though Johnny is a government witness he is not a rat because he's testifying against those who ratted before he ratted.
Got that?
Like all these criminals who trade their infamy for a few bucks, Johnny Martorano comes across as a guy who is sorry only that he got caught.
Paul Rico, the disgraced, and now dead, former FBI agent who helped Johnny kill people also helped frame a guy named Joe Salvati. Asked how he felt about Salvati doing 30 years for a murder he didn't commit, Rico replied, "What do you want, tears?"
Well, yeah, actually, we do. It would be refreshing to see one of these guys look into a camera and say, "I can't make up for my past. But I don't want to talk about it, either, because all it will do is hurt the families I already hurt."
Don't hold your breath waiting for that one.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Area mob figure alleges ties to LBM Financial


WORCESTER —
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The small, elderly man’s soft, raspy voice and frail appearance completely belie a past as notorious as that of practically anyone ever associated with the New England mob.
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Now 88, Carlo Mastrototaro — who by many accounts, but not his own, ruled Mafia activity in Worcester for much of the latter half of the last century — would seem a highly unlikely confederate to the growing number of borrowers and investors who claim they were ripped off by LBM Financial LLC, a Marlboro “hard-money” lending company.
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Clearly motivated by anger, Mr. Mastrototaro recently agreed to talk to a reporter, something he says he’s never done before. Among points raised in that interview, as well as through reviews of lawsuits targeting LBM and related depositions and other filings, are the following:
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• Mr. Mastrototaro claims that he arranged a meeting in 2000 between Marcello M. Mallegni, LBM president and owner of record, and David G. “Duddie” Massad, the well-known city philanthropist, chairman of Commerce Bank & Trust and former car dealer, a meeting that he says led to a partnership between the two men.
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In exchange for putting the small loan company together with one of the region’s wealthiest men, Mr. Mastrototaro says he was to receive a fee of 1 percent of each loan made by LBM. He says LBM reneged on the alleged agreement. A lawyer for LBM said no such arrangement ever existed.
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• Mr. Mastrototaro said he has known Mr. Massad nearly all his life and until recent years considered him a friend. Four former law enforcement officials who had Mr. Mastrototaro under surveillance at different times over decades said the two men were known to be friends. The bank chairman adamantly denies that they ever were friends, saying through a lawyer that he only sold Mr. Mastrototaro cars over the years. • Despite his reputation and criminal record, Mr. Mastrototaro was paid a $30,000 “broker’s fee” by a local real estate developer for his role in arranging a $3 million loan from Commerce Bank, according to that developer. A lawyer for Mr. Massad flatly denied any assertion of wrongdoing by his client, including those allegations contained in a number of pending racketeering lawsuits, and maintained that Mr. Massad has no role whatsoever in the operation of LBM or any dealings it had with Mr. Mastrototaro. “Throughout all of these specious and outrageous allegations, they uniformly fail to allege or contend interaction with Mr. Massad directly. They’re all suggesting that someone told them that Mr. Massad did something,” according to the lawyer, David H. Rich, who said Mr. Massad would not comment himself. LBM’s lawyer, Jeffrey D. Ganz, contradicted almost every aspect of Mr. Mastrototaro’s version of events. He said it was a Commerce Bank loan officer, not Mr. Mastrotoraro, who first introduced the bank chairman and Mr. Mallegni. He said Mr. Mastrotoraro was never promised a cut of LBM loans and that Mr. Mastrotoraro and his wife were paid all the interest they were due in connection with one loan they funded. “These allegations just don’t hold up,” Mr. Ganz said. For his part, Commerce Bank President Brian W. Thompson said he has never even heard of Mr. Mastrototaro and that the bank would not allow a broker’s fee to be paid out of a loan without written authorization from the borrower. “We’re very confident that whatever the bank has done is consistent with normal banking procedures,” he said. LBM is the focal point of at least a dozen state and federal court lawsuits alleging that the borrowers were victims of schemes orchestrated to ensure their failure and enable the firm to wrest control of their property. The common theme in the lawsuits is that the firm used “loan-to-own” tactics designed to financially sabotage construction projects in order to take them over through foreclosure or, failing that, to use the delays created to run up the payoff amount on the loan by piling on fees, penalties and default interest rates. The firm offers short-term, high-interest loans — known in the industry as “hard money” loans — to developers in the early stages of construction projects. LBM’s lawyer has attributed the flurry of lawsuits to failed and desperate developers trying to avoid repaying millions of dollars they borrowed from the firm. State records show LBM was incorporated in 1996 by Mr. Mallegni of Southboro. Mr. Massad has said he has no formal role in the operation of LBM but, through other companies he has an interest in, has put up some of the money lent by the firm. Interviewed at the Leatherneck Lounge at the Marine Corps League on Lake Avenue, Mr. Mastrototaro, a WWII combat veteran, told the Telegram & Gazette that in 2000 he set up a meeting between Mr. Massad and Mr. Mallegni, who, he said, was anxious to enlist Mr. Massad’s financial backing. In his version of the formation of the association between Mr. Massad and Mr. Mallegni, Mr. Mastrototaro said that the two agreed that he would receive one point — 1 percent — of each loan made by LBM. The agreement, he acknowledged, was not put on paper. “I’ve always taken people at their word, and my word is good in return,” Mr. Mastrototaro said. Mr. Ganz, the LBM lawyer, called the alleged agreement “just false.” “That’s not the way LBM does business. It never agreed to pay anybody a 1 point broker’s fee,” he said. However it happened, Mr. Massad’s involvement with LBM appears to have boosted the firm’s prospects.A review of LBM loans on file with several registries of deeds offices confirms that LBM’s volume of business increased dramatically after Mr. Massad began investing in the firm’s loans. Between 1996 and 2000, LBM made about $40 million in loans to developers in Worcester, Barnstable, Middlesex and Suffolk counties. Records in other jurisdictions were not examined. Since 2000 and Mr. Massad’s involvement, however, LBM has made more than $200 million in loans for construction projects in those same four counties, according to registry of deeds records in the four jurisdictions. If Mr. Mastrototaro’s assertion that he was to receive 1 percent of each loan extended by LBM is correct — an assertion strenuously denied by the firm — he would be owed more than $2 million. His anger boiled over, he said, following a transaction between his wife and LBM. He alleges that the firm failed to pay her at least $14,000 in interest from a $500,000 investment she made with the company. He said his wife made $500,000 through the sale of family property in Buffalo, N.Y., in 2007. The couple invested the money with Mr. Mallegni and LBM that year, for which he said she was to be paid 8 percent interest. The investment was to last no more than a year, he said. LBM, both sides of the dispute acknowledge, loaned the money to Louis Cheschi, owner of the CafĂ© Sorrento restaurant in Milford, and a friend of Mr. Mastrototaro’s. Mr. Cheschi last week declined to comment on the transaction.
In a deposition taken last October in connection with a 2007 lawsuit filed against LBM, Mr. Mallegni, Mr. Massad and others by Worcester real estate developer Nicholas J. Fiorillo, Mr. Mallegni was questioned about the loan to Mr. Cheschi. Although Mr. Mastrototaro and Mr. Cheschi are friends, Mr. Mallegni states that Mr. Mastrototaro insisted that the $500,000 be funneled through LBM instead of lending it directly to the restaurateur. Mr. Mallegni said that he never really understood “why I need to get in the middle” of the transaction, but that “to accommodate Louie (Cheschi) and to accommodate Carlo (Mastrototaro) we did that.” When the loan was repaid in mid-2008, Mr. Mallegni says in his deposition, he immediately paid Mr. Mastrototaro what was owed him. Mr. Mastrototaro, however, claims the $500,000 wasn’t returned until well after a month had passed and then only after considerable badgering by him. He said his wife was not paid any interest on her investment. Mr. Ganz said his client made regular interest payments to the Mastrototaros during the course of the loan and then repaid the principal once Mr. Cheschi paid back the loan. “The loan was paid in full with interest,” he said.While it was Mr. Mallegni who he dealt with at LBM, Mr. Mastrototaro said he personally blames Mr. Massad for the situation. “That guy doesn’t do anything without Duddie’s approval,” he said of Mr. Mallegni. “He prays to one god,” he said of Mr. Massad. “That god’s name is M-O-N-E-Y.” Similar accusations about Mr. Mallegni’s reliance on Mr. Massad have been leveled by several of the Massachusetts real estate developers who have sued LBM, Mr. Mallegni and Mr. Massad. Those accusations appear at least somewhat supported by Mr. Mallegni’s response to a question asked of him during his deposition taken last October in the Fiorillo lawsuit Asked if he had discussed details of a particular loan with Mr. Massad, Mr. Mallegni answered: “Yes, he’s my 50 percent partner. I have to let him know what’s happening.” That particular loan was one in which Mr. Massad had put up a portion of the money, according to Mr. Ganz. “What is true is where Duddie is a participant, they make decisions together,” he said. Mr. Rich, one of Mr. Massad’s lawyers, said his client had no role in the transaction involving Mr. Mastrototaro. “If Mr. Mallegni had any arrangements with this person, Mr. Massad was not a party to any contracts, any agreements, any understandings whatsoever. He was not there. He knows nothing of it,” Mr. Rich said. Mr. Mastrototaro apparently did receive a percentage of at least one LBM-related loan. Robert Depietri of Worcester alleges in a federal racketeering lawsuit he filed in 2007 against LBM, Mr. Mallegni and others, and in a deposition and other related court documents, that he paid Mr. Mastrototaro and an associate $30,000 out of the proceeds of a $3 million loan from Commerce Bank in 2000. Mr. Depietri, who declined to be interviewed, alleges in his lawsuit and related documents that he and his partners, who own and manage the Chase Building at 44 Front St., attempted to consolidate a first mortgage held by a Boston bank and a second mortgage held by LBM into a single loan. At Mr. Mallegni’s suggestion, Mr. Depietri said he contacted Mr. Massad at Commerce Bank about the refinancing. In September 2000, he states, Commerce issued a loan commitment for $3 million, which included a $30,000 loan origination fee that he and his partners had agreed to pay. At the loan closing, however, Mr. Depietri states that his lawyers noticed a second $30,000 fee on the settlement statement. After questioning the additional charge, Mr. Depietri said he was escorted to another room by Mr. Mallegni, who allegedly told him that the loan would not be closed unless he agreed to the $30,000 fee. Mr. Depietri alleges that Mr. Mallegni told him that the additional fee was at the insistence of Mr. Massad and was to go to two men, who were described as “advisers” to Mr. Massad, who were seated in the lobby. Mr. Depietri said he was desperate for the refinancing and had no alternative but to go along. He said later he learned that one of the men was Mr. Mastrototaro, whom he had never heard of at that point. In a deposition taken in another lawsuit, Mr. Mallegni acknowledged that Mr. Mastrototaro received the broker’s fee, but said that Mr. Dipietri requested the payment because he had retained Mr. Mastrototaro as a broker. Mr. Depietri’s lawsuit also states that in the summer of 2006, Mr. Mastrototaro came to his home unexpectedly to talk about help he had been giving Mr. Fiorillo with his lawsuit against LBM. He said Mr. Mastrototaro “recommended I didn’t get involved with the situation.” Mr. Depietri, who said he was aware of Mr. Mastrototaro’s criminal background by that point, said he was shocked by the visit, but did not feel threatened. “I didn’t know who sent him there,” Mr. Depietri stated, “but obviously somebody did.” In his interview with the T&G, Mr. Mastrototaro would say only that his presence at the closing and later at Mr. Depietri’s house was not intended to threaten or intimidate anyone. “I don’t do that sort of thing,” he said. Mr. Mastrototaro’s police record, which dates to 1945, includes Massachusetts and federal court convictions and prison sentences for interstate travel in aid of racketeering, conspiracy to commit wire fraud, gambling and receiving stolen property, as well as several other lesser charges. In 1971, he was convicted in a U.S. District Court in Baltimore of aiding and abetting in the transportation of three U.S. Treasury bills stolen in New York City and transferred to Baltimore. Mr. Mastrototaro’s conviction and 9-year prison sentence were upheld in 1972 by a federal appeals court. He was accused of paying $25,000 for the three treasury bills, each with a face value of $100,000, to the man who stole them, Boston and Providence mob figure Vincent “Big Vinnie” Teresa. In exchange for a reduced sentence, Mr. Teresa, who in 1973 would write a tell-all book called “My Life in the Mafia,” agreed to testify against Mr. Mastrototaro in the aiding and abetting case and also against Meyer Lansky, a notorious figure in mob annals who was regarded as a financial genius. According to Thomas J. Foley, former superintendent of the Massachusetts State Police, Mr. Mastrototaro reported in the 1980s and ’90s to the Genovese crime family in New York with the tacit approval of Raymond L.S. Patriarca of Providence, regarded as the boss of organized crime bosses in New England until his death in 1984. Mr. Foley and other former and current law enforcement officials said in recent interviews that surveillance operations indicated Mr. Mastrototaro and Mr. Massad were friends for decades. Mr. Massad was never linked to any of Mr. Mastrototaro’s criminal activities, Mr. Foley said. Mr. Massad’s lawyer said his client and Mr. Mastrototaro were never friends. “It would be fair to say that he knows him and has interacted with him in a very limited capacity,” Mr. Rich said. “He’s certainly not a business partner or colleague or friend in any meaningful way.” In his 1973 book about the Mafia in New England, Mr. Teresa described Mr. Mastrototaro as “the boss of Worcester” and was considered “the fourth most powerful boss in the current New England hierarchy of crime.” The book frequently refers to Mr. Mastrototaro, linking him to Mafia-backed casinos that operated in Haiti and Cuba, as well as to Mr. Lansky. Mr. Teresa makes a few references to Mr. Mastrototaro’s reputation for having “short arms,” that is, for being extremely cheap. “He’s a multi-millionaire,” Mr. Teresa wrote, “but if you were to open the trunk of his car at any time, you’d find rolls of twenty-five-cent slugs that he used in telephone booths to save money on phone calls. He has beautiful clothes, but he never went to a store to buy them — he buys from boosters (small time thieves).” Despite his testimony that helped convict Mr. Mastrototaro in the Baltimore case, Mr. Teresa, who died in 1990 while in the federal witness protection program, seemed to have some admiration for the Worcester mob figure. “As cheap as he was, he was as honest as they come in the mob when you dealt with him,” Mr. Teresa wrote of Mr. Mastrototaro. “If you had a cent and half coming from him, it didn’t make a bit of difference if you didn’t show up to collect for six months. When you got there, the money was there waiting for you. He never tried to beat anybody in the mob.” Mr. Foley recalled that as part of one investigation, state police had Mr. Mastrototaro under surveillance in the mid-1990s as he headed to Western Massachusetts for a clandestine meeting in a bugged cabin with other “capos.” He said the officers tailing Mr. Mastrototaro saw him enter a Shrewsbury supermarket and stuff steaks and other items in his clothing, before taking off for the meeting in the Berkshires. Once inside the cabin, according to Mr. Foley, state police investigators listened to wiretapped conversations that included the Worcester crime leader and other mobsters bragging about their shoplifting exploits. More recently he was convicted of shoplifting in Auburn in 2003 and Shrewsbury in 2005, and paid fines of $200 and $250, respectively. By his own account, Mr. Mastrototaro is a “retired businessman” and during the interview determinedly steered clear of answering questions about businesses he was involved in before retiring. “Different things,” he said of his former occupations, adding when asked about news stories identifying him as an organized crime figure that “not everything said about me is true.”

Monday, December 8, 2008

A Mob Sequel to film "The Departed "


By Suzanne Smalley and Evan Thomas NEWSWEEK


For many years, John Connolly was the FBI's most effective Mafia investigator in Boston. He has a master's degree in public administration from Harvard. He says his "hero" is Bobby Kennedy and points to his family's devotion to public service (his brother is a retired DEA agent, and his sister became a teacher). But when he met last week with a NEWSWEEK REPORTER at the Turner Guilford Knight Correctional Center in Miami, he was wearing shackles around his ankles. Once dashing and athletic, the 68-year-old Connolly was stooped and pot-bellied in his bright-red prison jumpsuit. His skin was paper-thin and white from lack of sunlight. For the past three and a half years, he has lived in a tiny, 10- by 12-foot cinder-block cell; his food is slipped to him through a slot in the heavy metal door. He is kept in solitary confinement for his own protection: a few years ago, Connolly says, another former FBI agent was badly beaten by inmates in the same jail.

Speaking with the reporter in a holding room, Connolly was grandfatherly, intelligent, emotional. "Believe me, I am innocent!" he declared, pumping his fist in the air. "I'm a Catholic. I say the rosary every day and pray for my innocence. I pray to Saint Jude, the saint of hopeless causes, and to Saint Rita, the saint of the impossible." His cause is not entirely hopeless: last week the judge postponed his sentencing for murder in the second degree to next month to consider the defense's argument that the statute of limitations had elapsed. But there is still a chance that Connolly will never emerge from prison to see his wife and three kids.


If Connolly's story sounds like the stuff of movies, that's because it is. In Martin Scorsese's Oscar-winning film "The Departed," Matt Damon plays the role of a cop who works as a mole for the mob; the Damon character is widely believed to be based on Connolly. Jack Nicholson plays a role loosely based on the life of James (Whitey) Bulger an Irish mob kingpin from South Boston who secretly cooperated with the FBI against his rivals in the Italian Mafia. The subtext—in fiction as well as in real life—is the sometimes fine line between power for good and for evil.



In 2002 Connolly was convicted and sentenced to 10 years in prison on racketeering and obstruction-of-justice charges stemming from allegations that in 1995 he had tipped off Bulger and one of his henchmen, Stephen Flemmi (nicknamed "the Rifleman" for his expert marksmanship in the Korean War), right before they were indicted for racketeering. Bulger vanished. (He was last reliably spotted at London's Piccadilly Circus in 2002.) Flemmi dallied and was caught. In return for avoiding a death sentence for separate murder charges, Flemmi ultimately began cooperating with the government.

According to the Feds, Connolly not only helped Bulger escape but was also a spider in a tangled web of gangland slayings. In 2005 he was charged with three murder counts in connection with the death of John B. Callahan, a Boston jai alai executive who liked to drink and hang around with mobsters. In 1982 Callahan's rotting, bullet ridden body was found stuffed in the trunk of his Cadillac at Miami International Airport. A dime was found on the body—a message, some speculated, to those who would think of "dropping a dime," street parlance for cooperating with the Feds. The government charged that Connolly had let Bulger and his crew know that the FBI wanted to question Callahan about the slaying of another jai alai executive, Roger Wheeler, who had been snuffed by a member of Bulger's Winter Hill Gang. At Connolly's trial this fall, the prosecutor argued that Connolly should have known that Callahan would be killed because something similar had happened at least twice before. The Feds assert that in 1976, after Connolly allegedly leaked to Bulger that the nightclub owner and bookie Richard Castucci was an informant for the FBI, Castucci was shot to death. In another case, Edward (Brian) Halloran and an uninvolved friend were slain, execution style, while standing outside a bar on Boston's waterfront in 1982—allegedly because Connolly had told Bulger that Halloran was cooperating with the Feds



The star witnesses testifying against Connolly in his murder trial were Flemmi and John Martorano, a mob assassin known as the Basin Street Butcher who has admitted to killing 20 people. He is out of prison after serving a 12-year sentence, shortened because he agreed to testify for the government. In his jailhouse interview with NEWSWEEK, Connolly claimed that Martorano and other mobsters turned government witnesses were lying: "They're trying to save their own skin. They're like trained seals … Martorano never met me, never spoke to me … Everything he says is hearsay." (Flemmi claimed he was at a meeting—attended by Connolly—at which Bulger announced that Martorano would "take care of" Callahan, the jai alai exec.) The government presented evidence alleging that Connolly had received bribes totaling $235,000 from Bulger's gang—enough, prosecutors say, to buy a boat that cost almost as much as Connolly's annual FBI salary. (Assistant State Attorney Michael Von Zampf told NEWSWEEK THAT Connolly was so close to Bulger that he vacationed with him in Mexico.) Connolly's lawyer, Manuel Casabielle, says the idea that his client took bribes is "absolutely, categorically untrue." He adds that the defense was able to document in court that all of Connolly's assets were purchased with legitimate earnings

In his conversation with NEWSWEEK, Connolly protested that government investigators have to get close to their high-level informants, who are typically bad people, because that is the only way to penetrate secret criminal organizations or terrorist cells. While the government portrays him as a single rogue agent, Connolly describes himself as a "scapegoat." Even Von Zampf admits the FBI's Boston office was permeated by corruption; he says he believes other agents knew Connolly was taking money from Bulger but didn't act. A former FBI agent testifying for the defense admitted that Connolly delivered Christmas gifts from mobsters to him—a black leather briefcase, an expensive figurine, a bottle of cognac. Connolly's FBI supervisor has admitted receiving $7,000, some of which was delivered in a case of wine from the mob via Connolly. (The supervisor, John Morris, was granted immunity from prosecution in exchange for testifying.) It is commonplace and necessary for federal agents to use criminal informants to crack criminal conspiracies. But "you don't have informants at the top of the food chain," says Rick Fraelick, a retired Massachusetts State Police major, who attended part of the trial because he said Connolly compromised his own probes of Bulger's gang. "The whole point of an informant is to get to the top of the food chain." Maybe so, but as "The Departed" portrayed, life in ethnic melting pots like South Boston can be complicated



Connolly grew up in the same grim housing project in "Southie" as Bulger did. As they rise out of poverty, proud and ambitious men can make different choices. Whitey Bulger's brother Billy became president of the Massachusetts state Senate and the University of Massachusetts. Connolly recruited Whitey on a beach in Quincy in 1975. At the time, Bulger was afraid he had been targeted by the Mafia and wanted some cover. In addition to a lot of useful tips about the Italian mob, Connolly seems to have gotten a charge from hanging around a colorful and smart (if wicked) character like Bulger. But the game turned ugly. Connolly said that the Feds made a deal with Bulger to turn a blind eye to his gambling and loan-sharking—but betrayed him by bringing racketeering charges in 1995. By then, Connolly says, he feared Bulger would come after his family. Connolly says he never crossed the line in helping Bulger. But in Boston's byzantine world of cops and mobsters, where morals are murky and tribal loyalties are strong, lines separating good from evil can be blurry indeed from Newsweek.com

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Boston Mobster



Frank Capizzi, was an associate of the Notarangelis--"Indian Joe" and "Indian Al" who started a renegade gang that tried to muscle in on some of Angiulo's racquets.. .Joe and Al were both whacked out by hitman Johnny Martarano of the Winter Hill Gang. . When FBI agent Zip Connolly was convicted in federal court, Frank Capizzi wrote Judge Joe Tauro a five page letter about what it was like to be machine-gunned by Whitey Bulger in 1973 as Capizzi and two other hoods rode in a car in the North End. The driver, Al Plummer, was decapitated by the bullets

. Frankie Capizzi and his family begged well respected "made man" Paulie Intiso to get him off the hook with the Hill and Angiulo. . Capizzi knew Paulie since he was a kid. .He cried like a baby but he got to live as long as he stayed out of Boston. . . I started out in the Patriarca mob in Paulie Intiso's crew.

Paulie is mentioned in my book. "The Animal in Hollywood"

Anthony Fiato .
.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

MOB INSIDER; Fiato focuses on FBI agent murder comviction


Las Vegas Review Journal
MOB INSIDER: Fiato focuses on FBI agent murder conviction
Posted by John L. Smith review Journal Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2008

Anthony Fiato, the subject of my 1998 book “The Animal in Hollywood,” (at left) was the double-tough underboss of the Los Angeles mob in the early 1980s before he became ensnared in an FBI undercover investigation. Fiato was a made guy with criminal credentials in Boston and Los Angeles — and connections in Las Vegas and New York. When he decided to cooperate with the FBI, mobsters from Hollywood to the North End of Boston took a beating.


I spoke with Fiato recently about the conviction in Florida of former Boston FBI Agent John Connolly(at right), who was in connection with the mishandling of Irish mobster James “Whitey” Bulger.

Far from simplistically condemning “Zip” Connolly, Fiato said he understood how a dedicated FBI agent could get lost along the way while trying to put the mob out of business. The fact is, he says, the good guys have to be able to relate to the bad guys in order to gain their trust. Favors are common. Friendships form on both sides of the fence.

Here is an excerpt from that conversation.

“When you’re working undercover as an FBI agent, some of the mob guys rub off on you, and some of you rubs off on them,” Fiato says. “When Mike Wacks (a veteran FBI undercover agent who was a key player in the Bribery and Labor investigation known as BRILAB that nailed New Orleans mob boss Carlos Marcello) worked that BRILAB case, he told me they almost had to deprogram him for a year after he surfaced. Wacks told me it took him a year to get back to being himself. He was committing crimes along with them, getting to know them as people, getting to know their families.

These FBI guys will tell you anything to get you to do your job, but they also do things undercover that they wouldn’t normally do. People are people. The bad rubs off on the good and visa versa. That’s what I think happened in Connolly’s case.

“He was told to work those guys, make cases, get them to flip, nail the mobsters — and follow every rule or face the consequences. Well, life on the street is never that simple. Never. And I think it’s unfair to throw the book at a guy who was trying to do his job.”

More from Fiato soon.