Surviving the Mob (12 page)

“When Dina’s father found out the cops were looking for me, he didn’t want me in his house. Dina and I headed back to New York. I couldn’t take her right to her mother’s, because the cops would probably be watching the place. I gave her some money, told her I’d be in touch, and dropped her off a few blocks away. I didn’t tell her anything about where I might go or what I might do.

“From there I drove to the home of a childhood friend. He wasn’t in the life and the law would never connect me with him. I let my mother know I was okay and where I was. I spent the night there and the next morning my mother called me from a pay phone. She said she’d reached out to my father and he was coming to get me and help me get away.

“I hadn’t seen my father since I don’t know when. He did come and get me, though, and we went to his father and mother’s old house in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn. They had both passed away, but the family still owned the place. We stayed in the basement apartment overnight, making plans and setting up the escape. The next morning we were gone.”

Andrew and his father caught a plane from New York to Los Angeles. They immediately took another flight to Las Vegas, then a bus to Laughlin, Nevada. Laughlin is located on the Colorado River about 90 miles south of Las Vegas. Directly across the river from Laughlin is Bullhead City, Arizona. So three days after the Burzo shooting, the DiDonatos were in the growing tourist destination on the Colorado. But
they weren’t lazing around gambling or taking in the sights like tourists. They were keeping busy trying to figure a way out of his predicament.

They checked in with Andrew’s mother and she said the cops had been by again looking for him. They told her if he didn’t turn himself in, they’d put him on “America’s Most Wanted.” Andrew contacted a lawyer in New York named Ed Rappaport. This guy represented a lot of cops who had been charged with corruption or some other misconduct. He had a reputation for being able to get people off. Through him, Andrew and the cops reached an agreement that he’d surrender at the 69
^th
Precinct on May 3. Part of the deal was that Andrew could put up bail after he was arraigned. He’d be able to stay free.

They went back to New York a few days ahead of time on April 28. Andrew went to his sister’s house and arranged to have Dina come over. The excitement must have been too much for her, because within an hour of her getting there, her water broke and she was rushed to the hospital. He couldn’t go with her; he was still a wanted man and the cops would have arrested him, on sight. Andrew’s son was born that day. Even amidst the uproar, it was an emotional time for Andrew. He and Dina named the boy Andrew Dominick.

Andrew surrendered as promised and got out on bail the next day. His maternal grandfather put his house up as collateral for the bond. He volunteered to do it, which shocked Andrew’s mother. He’d always liked his grandson, who used to take him fishing and to his doctor appointments. He knew Andrew was a gangster. He just said not to bring any trouble around to his house.

“So now I was back on the street,” Andrew explains. “But I had to lie low and even give up my horse room. If I got pinched again for anything, they’d revoke my bond on the attempted-murder charge. My income dropped to almost nothing and I knew I had major legal expenses ahead of me. I was
getting all kinds of advice that I should marry Dina, because a newlywed with a baby might get some sympathy from a jury. On May twenty-fifth, we tied the knot in a small ceremony.

“And my brother-in-law helped me out by lining me up with a job. He was an engineer with a company in Manhattan and he got me a job at Madison Square Garden steam cleaning the outside steps and sidewalks. The job started very early in the morning before there was much pedestrian traffic. The company I was working for wanted its employees to look professional. We were required to wear uniforms that included a bow tie.

“It was my first day. It was summertime and it was hot. On top of that I was using steam, which made it twice as hot. I had my shirt off and was in my tank top doing my thing. All of a sudden this guy walks up to me. He says, ‘Excuse me. You work for such and such a company, don’t you?’

“I said I did. He said he did too. He told me his name and that he was watching me from his office window across the street and noticed I wasn’t in uniform. I said, ‘Well, I’m using the steam cleaner and that’s two hundred twenty degrees. And the temperature today is about another hundred. I don’t know what you expect me to do.’ He said, ‘Well, I expect you to be in uniform.’

“I said, ‘You were in your air-conditioned office watching me work and you decided to come down here and bust my balls because I’m not wearing a bow tie? Get the fuck outta here!’ And then I started to squirt him with the steam hose. I chased him down the steps of Madison Square Garden with the steam machine. Needless to say, I got fired. That was the first legitimate job I ever had and it only lasted a few hours.”

When Sam Karkis was questioned after the Burzo shooting, he told the police they had the wrong guy. He’d been
working that day. When further investigation revealed that Sam’s story wasn’t true, he was indicted on the same charges as Andrew, plus an obstruction count for lying to police investigators. Andrew asked his lawyer to arrange for an associate to represent Karkis.

As time passed, Andrew believed the prosecution had a very weak and beatable case. Burzo himself couldn’t remember what happened to him. The closest he could come to naming Andrew as his assailant was to place him at the scene. The only witness, Mrs. Raiola, was unable to positively identify Andrew as the man she’d seen arguing with and squatting next to Burzo that day. And the gun hadn’t been found.

Andrew’s financial situation even got a boost when Karkis tipped him off to a drug dealer who was ripe for a robbery. Andrew made about $18,000 on the score and was able to kick some money up to Nicky, which pleased them both.

All in all, Andrew was feeling pretty optimistic about his situation—until the air started seeping out of his balloon when he learned that Karkis had switched lawyers, which is one of the early-warning signs of trouble for a person facing criminal charges. When a co-defendant changes lawyers, it’s often an indication he’s considering cooperating with the prosecution. And that was exactly what went through Andrew’s mind when he heard that Karkis had fired his Ed Rappaport-arranged attorney.

Andrew talked over the Karkis situation with Anthony Gerbino and Mike Yannotti. After that Vinnie Dragonetti went to see Sammy at his house. He told Sammy they didn’t care what lawyer he used. But then he reminded him that in his previous statements, he said he didn’t remember what happened the day Burzo was shot. And that it would be in his best interests to stick with those statements come trial time.

“I could see the writing on the wall, though,” Andrew says. “Sammy started avoiding me like I had the plague. I got with Anthony and Mike again to talk about what we were
going to do about him. The decision was that we couldn’t kill Sammy on speculation. But if he did actually become a witness, Anthony and Mike would deal with him personally.

“I’d always been there for those guys when they needed help, so I wasn’t surprised by their promise. And I felt pretty good knowing that even if Sammy screwed me and I went to prison, he’d pay with his life.”

Andrew spent the balance of the year struggling to earn enough money to pay his mounting legal fees and the added expenses related to having a wife and son to support. All the while, he was wondering whether Sammy Karkis had decided to turn against him.

That December the books were opened and several gangsters were straightened out. Among them were John Gotti’s son Junior Gotti and Michael “Mikey Scars” DiLeonardo. But being made together doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll stay together.

11

For Andrew, 1989 began with financial, legal, and domestic problems that got worse as the months went by. He, Dina, and Andrew Junior were living together in an apartment on East 80
^th
Street in Canarsie. The stress caused by his inability to earn like he had in the past and preparing for his upcoming attempted-murder trial strained his already fragile relationship with Dina. All thoughts of moving up in the Gambino family were gone, at least temporarily. Just keeping his head above water financially was a struggle.

“Those were tough times,” Andrew remembers. “I couldn’t work my rackets like I used to. And when I did make a few bucks, about seventy-five cents out of every dollar went toward my lawyer. I blamed Dina and her lies for putting me in the situation with Burzo to begin with.

“About the only bright spot was the weakness of the case against me. I knew if I could get a walk on those charges, I’d be back on my feet in no time. So even though it seemed like I was always in court for some kind of motion hearing and Rappaport always wanted more money, I still thought things would work out for me. And then Rappaport pulled the rug out from under me.

“We were in court for a pre-trial hearing in May and he told the judge that I wasn’t living up to my financial commitment
to him. He asked to be released from the case. I wanted to take the eyes right out of his head. I had paid him around forty thousand already and he hadn’t done anything except go to hearings. He wanted the balance—I think it was ten or twelve thousand—or he wanted the judge to cut him loose.

“I stood there next to him whispering things like, ‘I gave you all this money and now you can’t take payments, you low life motherfucker?’ He didn’t back down, though. He wanted more money and that was that.

“The judge backed him. She said she’d give me seven days to pay up or she’d see to it that I hired another lawyer. Then she asked me if I could afford to pay for a new attorney. I said, ‘How the fuck can I pay for another lawyer after I gave this motherfucker almost forty thousand?’ So we had this big argument in the courtroom and, of course, I lost.

“After that, Rappaport, my father and me were out in the hallway. My father was almost as pissed off as I was. I told Rappaport I felt like knocking his teeth right out of his fuckin’ mouth. We argued back and forth for a while. But when it was all over, the bottom line was that I had a week to come up with the rest of the money or else he was out. I left that courthouse boiling. I was mad at Rappaport and so frustrated about the money that I was ready to start pulling my own hair out.

“I contacted some of my drug-business associates and was able to come up with about eighty-five hundred. Now I was so close to having Rappaport’s money that it was pretty much a done deal. All I had to do was see Nicky for the balance.”

The reason Andrew thought the influx of money from his drug buddies had pretty much solved his immediate financial problem was that Nicky Corozzo, after all, was a millionaire.
Andrew had shown his loyalty to Nicky many times and made a lot of money for him over the past several years. And didn’t Nicky call him Good News because of the tremendous profits he’d generated through the horse room? Certainly, Nicky wouldn’t hesitate to loan him four or five grand. It was a no-brainer.

“I met Nicky on the street outside our social club. I explained what was going on with Rappaport and that if I didn’t pay him off, I’d lose the forty thousand I’d already paid and my best shot at getting an acquittal. Then I asked him for the loan.

“Nicky said, ‘Hey, it’s not about the money. I’d do anything for you, you know that. But you gotta understand. I’ve got thirty or forty guys coming around all the time looking for this and that. When Lenny [DiMaria] and me were coming up, Fat Andy [Anthony Ruggiano, Nicky and Lenny’s crew boss] never bailed us out right away if we got pinched. He let us sit in jail a few days to see if we could get out on our own. You see, in this life, you’ve gotta exhaust every other avenue available to you before you ask for help.’

“Right after saying, ‘It’s not the money; I’d give it to you in a minute,’ he asked me, ‘If I give you five thousand and you end up gettin’ convicted and sent away for ten or fifteen years, how would I get my money back?’

“This was a side of Nicky I’d never seen before. I stood there looking at him and I thought, you dirty motherfucker. I tried not to let him know how hurt I was. I just told him he knew better than me and I understood.

“He said he didn’t want me upset, that I had to look at this from a business perspective. I told him I’d proved my loyalty over and over again. If I had to go out gun in hand to get his money back to him, I’d do it. But I wasn’t going to argue with him about it. He knew best and I was okay with it.

“But it stayed with me for a long time. I think I eventually figured out why Nicky did what he did. I’d been loyal to
him, but I never kissed his ass like a lot of them did. And he was pissed off about the Burzo shooting for two reasons. It wasn’t business—it was personal. Because of it, I had to give up the horse room where we were making a killing. And that hurt him in the wallet.