Honor Thy Father (49 page)

“You didn’t clean up your account with Diners’ in January of 1968?” Krieger asked, which was when Perrone had taken his card.

“No, not at all,” Torrillo admitted.

“Now the trip to which you just made reference, was that a trip that you had arranged in your travel business?”

“Yes.”

“And to where was that?”

“To Haiti.”

“And was that a gambling junket?”

“Well,” Torrillo said, “no. It was more or less of a business trip in the sense that we were thinking of going into that business. Instead of me being in the travel tour business, I was thinking of going to the other side of the fence and getting involved with the hotels and casino aspect, so I had four or five friends of mine that were thinking of getting involved in that aspect of it and we went down and came back with that in mind.”

“And that was the money that you owed at that time?”

“Yes.”

“And you found it difficult to pay that money, isn’t that so?”

“No.”

“Well, did you ever pay Diners’?”

“No.”

“So you did find it difficult to pay that money, isn’t that so?”

“Objection!” shouted Walter Phillips.

“Sustained,” said Judge Mansfield.

Torrillo remained on the stand through the entire morning, and as Bill listened he thought that Krieger had scored decisively with the jury. Krieger had not only impeached the government’s witness but he raised doubt about Torrillo’s explanation that Torrillo’s relinquishing of the Diners’ Club card to Perrone had been motivated by fear, and fear alone—a motivation presumably inspired by having seen the gun in Perrone’s shoulder holster in the Posh Place, by seeing Perrone knock down the old man in the barbershop, and by Perrone’s publicized affiliation with the Mafia. If Torrillo was guided by fear of Perrone, how did he explain his persistence in saying that his card was lost weeks and months after Perrone’s death? Why had Torrillo lied to the grand jury in July—four months after Perrone’s death—and then, at some unspecified date later, why had he changed his whole story to assert that the card had been forceably taken? Bill Bonanno had his theories, of course, and these were based on his and Krieger’s knowledge that Torrillo had been involved, quite apart from the credit card situation, with some unrelated legal entanglement, and perhaps the government agents had made a deal with Torrillo—if he would help them nail Bonanno they would help Torrillo with his other case, whatever that case was. At this point in the trial, Krieger did not know precisely what the government had on Torrillo. Krieger knew that Torrillo had been arrested three days after Perrone’s death, and had been interrogated about the Perrone murder. But that was all Krieger knew, and whether he could find out more through cross-examination depended largely on Judge Mansfield’s rulings—if the judge supported Phillips’s attempts to block Krieger from probing into Torrillo’s other legal difficulties, then Krieger would be unable to exploit what he believed was a vulnerable witness. Meanwhile, Krieger continued in the courtroom to concentrate on the evidence that he had at his disposal against Torrillo, seeking to establish before the jury that Torrillo was a man whose word could not be trusted.

Krieger held up for the jury to see a small white business card. It was Torrillo’s, and on it Torrillo had represented himself as possessing illustrious degrees in a formal education. Handing the card to Torrillo, Krieger asked: “Is it your business card?”

“Yes,” said Torrillo, sheepishly.

“And it was a business card which you had in 1966 and 1967, is that not so?”

“Well, it is approximately correct.”

“Your Honor,” Phillips interrupted, “again I am going to object. I don’t see any relevance to this at all.”

“I don’t see any relevance yet,” Judge Mansfield said, “but maybe he is leading to something.”

“What does BSEE mean?” Krieger asked Torrillo.

“Beg your pardon?”

“BSEE, does that mean anything?”

“To me, yes,” said Torrillo. “Bachelor of Science, Electrical Engineering.”

“And MSEE?”

“Master of Science, Electrical Engineering.”

“And Ph.D.?”

“Doctorate.”

“Doctor of what?”

“It’s an educational term,” Torrillo said, “doctor of whatever it may be.”

“Well,” Krieger said, “did you represent yourself to be a Ph.D.?”

“Objection!” shouted Phillips.

“In 1966 or 1967,” Krieger continued, ignoring Phillips, “when you met Bonanno?”

“Objection!” Phillips repeated.

“Overruled,” said the judge.

“Did I——beg pardon?” asked Torrillo, looking at Krieger, then toward Phillips, then up to the judge.

“Yes, you may answer,” said the judge, nodding.

“Did you represent——”

“I didn’t represent myself as anything to Bonanno,” Torrillo replied, with irritation.

“Did you give Bonanno Defendant’s Exhibit F for indentification?” Krieger asked, meaning the business card.

“I didn’t give Bonanno anything,” Torrillo said, “I don’t know where he got it, but…”

“This is your card?” Krieger asked quickly.

“Yes.”

“I offer it…”

“Your Honor,” Phillips said, “I object to this offer on the same basis as I objected to the others as irrelevant.”

“Overruled,” said the judge.

“On your business card,” Krieger continued, “did you represent yourself to be a Master of Science in Electrical Engineering?”

“Yes sir,” Torrillo said, quietly.

“A Bachelor of Science in Electrical Engineering?”

“Yes.”

“A Ph.D.?”

“Yes.”

“What does the Ph.D. mean that you were representing yourself to be?”

“I don’t understand your question,” Torrillo said. “I told you it was a doctorate, doctorate title.”

“In what?”

“I don’t see where it makes any…” Torrillo caught himself, and said, “I didn’t have any specific goal in mind. I didn’t give out any cards, by the way. I thought it was a bad ploy to use. I had them with me, but I never represented myself as anything.”

“Did you have offices in 1966 and 1967 at 15 Park Row?”

Phillips stood to say, “In view of the witness’s last answer, I again object to the admission into evidence of this.”

“Overruled.”

“Did you have offices in 1966 and 1967 in 15 Park Row?” Krieger repeated.

“I had an office in a suite of offices.”

“Did you have an office at the San Jeronimo Hilton at San Juan, Puerto Rico?”

“Well, I had set up temporary——I had set up a temporary room in a hotel in San Juan.”

“When?”

“In ’66 and ’67.”

“Forhow long?”

“Oh, on and offfor a period of about four or five months.”

“Do you recall when?”

“Do I recall——I beg your pardon?”

“Do you recall when you had this office in Puerto Rico?”

“In the early part of ’66, the middle six months.”

“The early part of ’66?”

“Yes.”

“And that was when you were in syndications and real estate and mortgages and so forth?”

“Trying to get into that. I was involved with it, but I wanted to go in on my own.”

“And you felt representing yourself to be an electrical engineer and a doctor of something or other would help you?”

“Yes.”

Soon Krieger decided that the time had come to see what he could learn about the circumstances surrounding Torrillo’s arrest on March 14, 1968, right after Perrone’s murder.

“Now Mr. Torrillo, the first law enforcement officials to whom you spoke about the matters concerning which you have given testimony on direct examination were the New York police, isn’t that so?”

“Yes.”

“And that was after March 14, 1968, was it not?”

“After March 14,” Torrillo repeated, seeming somewhat confused.

“March 14, 1968,” Krieger said.

“Well, I didn’t hear the first part of your question, Mr. Krieger.”

“That was after March 14, 1968?”

“What was after March 14?”

“That you spoke to law enforcement officials for the first time concerning the matters about which you have given testimony here on direct examination.”

“Yes.”

“And those law enforcement officials were New York City police?”

“Yes.”

“And you were speaking to them in relation to a problem that you had?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” said Phillips.

“Sustained,” said the judge.

Krieger shook his head and, turning toward the judge, said, softly, “I make an offer here on motive, Your Honor, and bias.”

“All right,” said the judge.

But Phillips said, “Your Honor, I object to these remarks of Mr. Krieger’s.”

“Don’t make statements in the presence of the jury,” Judge Mansfield said. “If you wish to take it up you may take it up at the sidebar.”

Krieger and Phillips, together with Notaro’s lawyer, Leonard Sandier, gathered at the side of Judge Mansfield’s bench.

“Yes,” said the judge to Krieger, “what is your offer?”

“On March 14, 1968, Your Honor, this witness was arrested, I believe, at his home in the County of Queens by police officers from the New York City Police Department. That after his arrest he was interviewed at length by the CIB [Central Intelligence Bureau of the New York City Police Department], officers from the CIB; that those officers turned over the results of the interview to the postal inspectors or to various officials of the United States government; and that his position in regard to the credit card came about through those interviews. And I would like to show to this jury, that he [Torrillo] was motivated by his own sense of self-preservation for the criminal charges brought against him and so he testified as to these events.”

“I don’t quite see any motivation,” Judge Mansfield said. “How can there be any connection between the two?”

Krieger, not wishing to be too accusatory at this point, said, “There doesn’t have to be a connection.”

“No, but what would motivate him to lie about this?” asked the judge. “How could it help him in connection with the charges that were against him then?”

“To get the charges dismissed,” Krieger said, in a manner implying simple logic.

“The charges that were against him, Your Honor,” interjected Phillips, “were trumped-up charges. About twenty police officers came to Mr. Torrillo’s home the day after Mr. Perrone was killed and they arrested him on three phony charges, such as possession of heroin on the basis of some white powder that he had in his garage, and I am going to ask the court for a ruling directing Mr. Krieger not to ask any questions with respect to that particular arrest because the charges were dismissed. They were trumped-up charges, and the police came in because of all the confusion about Perrone.”

“Came in as a result of
what?
” Krieger asked, suspiciously.

“Let me say this,” Judge Mansfield cut in, “I think that you are going too far afield into collateral matters. You may bring out anything that has to do with a prior statement or a prior conviction, but I don’t think that I’m going to get off on a wild-goose chase as to whether or not a charge that was ultimately dismissed against him was dismissed because he had furnished the police information that incriminated Bonanno and Notaro. It seems to me that this is too remote, too flimsy, inadequate, and, in the absence of a greater showing than what you made here, I sustain the objection.”

“Your Honor,” Krieger persisted, “I have an application to the court, and in the interest of that application let me rephrase or restate my offer because I think that Your Honor may make a ruling partially upon a misapprehension of the thrust of my argument. Number one, Your Honor, particularly in light of what Mr. Phillips has just said, at least twenty officers came to this man’s apartment, and apparently he has no prior criminal record, I have no knowledge of any prior criminal record, and he is put into the most fantastically pressured situation in regard to trumped-up charges, as Mr. Phillips categorized this. These charges were dismissed, according to the transcript in Queens County, in October [seven months after Perrone’s death], after he had testified before the grand jury. If, as a result of the pressure of these trumped-up charges, he testified in this fashion, I am, I respectfully submit, under Wigmore, under McCormak, under Gratheks, under Lester, entitled to bring out circumstances which might have motivated him to testify in a fashion favorable to one side or to the other. The test, Your Honor, which Your Honor has indicated in your previous ruling, is a much more stringent test than the one which the cases indicate.”

“You have the right,” the judge said, “to ask the witness the straight question whether or not, in making any statements with respect to any of the defendants or Perrone, he was motivated by any desire to escape any prosecution by any law enforcement authority. I will permit that, but what I will not permit is to go into the collateral issue of whether the dismissal of the other charges was due to the inadequacies of the government’s evidence in those charges or because he furnished some useful information. If he went into that I would end up by trying the other cases, so I have ruled, and that’s my ruling.”

“But, Your Honor,” Krieger continued, “I don’t intend to go into that portion of it.”

“The government will then want to go into it in order to show that those charges couldn’t possibly have been sustained, and then we get into the trial of those charges, and whether the witness could have possibly been motivated by what are called specious charges. So, I have ruled.”

Krieger turned and walked slowly back to the witness stand, and Bill Bonanno could tell from Krieger’s expression that he was disappointed and dissatisfied. After five more minutes of cross-examination, Krieger told the judge that he had nothing further to ask Torrillo at this time, but he reserved the right to cross-examine him later in the trial on questions that might arise if Krieger could obtain the written notes or tape recordings that had been made by the police during their interviews with Torrillo after his arrest. While Phillips said he was uncertain that such material existed, the judge agreed that Krieger was within his rights to seek it if it did exist, and subpoenas were served on various individuals who had talked to Torrillo.