The Sixth Family (71 page)
Authors: Lee Lamothe
The professed frailty of some of the defendants was largely a red herring, prosecutors insisted. Those who prosecute the Mafia with the frequency of New York’s government attorneys are well aware that mobsters typically develop serious medical conditions when facing trial, ailments that miraculously seem to clear up upon acquittal or imposition of a light sentence.
Robert Henoch, an assistant prosecutor working with Greg Andres, argued eloquently that advanced age or weakening physical prowess do not correspond to a reduction in the power or relative dangerousness of someone involved in the Mafia.
“Ronald Reagan was 78 years old when he was the president of the United States and I probably could have beat him in arm wrestling, but that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t the most powerful man in the world.”
Amato’s spirited defense against his charges was a rarity in New York in recent years. In May 2006, on the eve of jury selection for their racketeering case, five more accused gave up, including Michael “Mickey Bats” Cardello, who had walked the
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supervisor to his death at the hand of Amato. He accepted 10 years in prison with his guilty plea.
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supervisor to his death at the hand of Amato. He accepted 10 years in prison with his guilty plea.
All of Vito’s co-accused—those arrested in the same January 2004 sweep—eventually opted for guilty pleas or government deals, or received guilty verdicts at trial.
From the sprawling indictment, 03-CR-1382, that began with Vito Rizzuto and expanded to 27 people, only Vito’s case remained unsettled. This may well have been exactly where his defense team wanted him to be.
CHAPTER 41
LAVAL, QUEBEC, MARCH 2005The clean cubist décor of the 9,000-square-foot split-level Moomba Supperclub in Laval, just across the river from Montreal, is even more eye-catching than the fashionable clientele who pack the place each night. By the spring of 2005, the club was gaining a niche in the crowded entertainment scene with its trendy supper-club concept, offering decent dinner service followed by DJs, dancing and drinking until 3 a.m. With its enforced dress code and valet parking, the Moomba attracted a crowd that was a little more upscale than was found in many of Montreal’s downtown bars and clubs.
It was a little past 2 a.m. on March 10, 2005, when the sound of gunfire cut through the beat of a Latin track that was blasting the Moomba’s dance floor, sending patrons diving for cover and scattering from the crowded club. By the time the 250 guests had cleared out and police officers and ambulance attendants had arrived, two men had been found gravely injured. Lying inside the bar was Mike LaPolla, 36, an olive-skinned man with a long face and shaved head who had worked with the Sixth Family as an enforcer for several years and had a recent drug conviction. Outside the Moomba, police found Thierry Beaubrun, 28, a black man with short dark hair and a small goatee. Beaubrun was heavily involved with the Crack Down Posse, an aggressive Montreal street gang, and the 67s, another of the city’s street gangs, according to a police report. Both LaPolla and Beaubrun were shot after an apparent fistfight escalated into a shootout; hours later, both men died in hospital.
Sixth Family leaders quickly gathered to discuss what had happened and how it might impact business. Lorenzo Giordano, described by police as an aggressive street boss within the Sixth Family organization, had been in the Moomba when the shooting broke out and was closely questioned by his seniors. Rocco Sollecito, originally from Grumo Appula in Southern Italy who is close to the Rizzutos, said he had been told the killing of LaPolla was “an isolated incident,” but Rocco’s son, Giuseppe Sollecito, warned that the dead rival, Beaubrun, was a “captain of the blacks” and there would be blood on the streets because of it.
“The blacks are not people you can sit down and reason with,” Giuseppe Sollecito allegedly said. “They are not like [us]. They are animals.” It was not only the friends of LaPolla who worried about where the slayings might lead. Police were nervous the gunfight signaled emerging underworld tension between the Mafia and the largely black street gangs, perhaps a brewing war that would go far beyond two hotheads who refused to back down.
Prison officials were similarly concerned and decided not to take any chances with one of their highest-profile prisoners. Immediately after the Moomba slayings, Vito was moved into protective custody, meaning solitary confinement, at Ste-Anne-des-Plaines prison, a federal facility north of Montreal. Prison staff worried that members of the street gangs, who have a significant presence in the prison system, might try to avenge Beaubrun’s death by attacking Vito. Prison was one of the few places in Quebec where the Sixth Family was outnumbered by rivals.
Incarceration in Canada for Vito, as he fought extradition to the United States, had offered ups and downs. He was held for a period in the Rivières-des-Prairies provincial detention center not far from his home. There he lived in a grim cell with a simple cot, porcelain sink and a tiny desk built into the wall. Vito could touch the green walls on either side if he stretched his arms out when standing on the worn black floor of his cell. When his release on bail was denied, he was granted his request for a transfer to Ste-Anne-des-Plaines prison, where he had a little more room to roam until his placement in protective custody, a move he did not like but one that was relatively brief, a longtime friend of Vito’s said.
While in both facilities, Vito was kept well informed on affairs outside the prison walls. He had family visits from his father, children and grandchildren and telephone calls with close associates. In prison, he also enjoyed the benefits of having two children who were lawyers. Since both Leonardo and Bettina were helping with their father’s case, they had lengthy and frequent access to him.
There has been plenty of news for them to bring Vito since his arrest.
MONTREAL, MAY 2005Two months after the Moomba shootout, another sign of underworld unrest surfaced in the form of four burly men who rushed into a Saint-Léonard barbershop. Inside, they tussled with Frank Martorana—enough to bloody him up—and then forced him into a waiting sport utility vehicle. Martorana, a luxury car dealer in Montreal, has had long ties with the Sixth Family. The bold kidnapping in broad daylight sparked concerns for Martorana’s safety and a frantic search. Police found his late-model Mercedes-Benz S55 AMG, valued at about $130,000, parked nearby. Six days later, however, Martorana returned home, apparently safe and unharmed. He made a courtesy call to the Montreal police to tell them to call off their search but did not explain his absence, press any charges or file any official complaint.
It was the start of an odd pattern. Several other men, most with links to the underworld, were kidnapped for a short period of time—ranging from hours to weeks—before being released. One man, Nicola Varacalli, the father of a Montreal night club owner, Mario Varacalli, was grabbed from his Montreal home on Halloween night in 2005 by four men who knocked on his door wearing costumes to hide their faces. His kidnappers allowed him to make several telephone calls to associates, imploring them that they “must stop the junk on the street.” On December 8, Varacalli, who has cocaine convictions, contacted police through a lawyer; like Martorana, he was no longer being held against his will but was uninterested in pursuing the matter with the authorities.
As disturbing as Varacalli’s kidnapping might have been to those who knew him, it was only a symptom of a greater problem facing the Sixth Family, part of a growing dispute with the D’Amico clan from Granby, about an hour’s drive east of Montreal. The D’Amico organization, which felt wronged by Arcadi, presented a rare display of open defiance towards the Sixth Family’s hegemony. On December 1, 2005, Luca D’Amico arrived at the Club Social Consenza to deliver a letter addressed to “Uncle Cola,” an anglicized version of a common nickname for Nick. The letter presented to the Rizzuto patriarch the D’Amicos’ side of the dispute. It sought a negotiated settlement that only Nick could arrange, the letter said. The D’Amicos did not appear to have faith in Arcadi handling this matter. Nick needed a little more prodding to get involved and the D’Amicos soon offered a bold show of strength.
On December 23, Luca D’Amico and two colleagues walked into the Consenza, paused for a moment and then left, with D’Amico signaling with his right hand as he walked out. A cavalcade of vehicles then pulled up to collect the trio and the procession of eight SUVs and Mercedes cars accompanied the visitors away from the Sixth Family headquarters. What could have happened, had the intent been directly hostile rather than a display of strength and determination, was not lost on the Sixth Family bosses. Arcadi quickly phoned his colleagues, warning them to be careful, saying: “The insane guy is in the neighborhood.” Arcadi was clearly spooked by the D’Amicos’ obstinacy and was seen carrying a pistol on his right hip.
Other actions on the street while Vito was indisposed had grimmer results—Montreal police were dealing with a string of unsolved slayings with underworld links.
“Now that Vito’s not running the show, all of the guys who are owed money or who had scores to settle but were held in check are free to act,” said André Bouchard, the former commander of Montreal police’s Major Crimes Unit. “If Vito told them they were not going to get paid, they weren’t going to get paid and they had to accept that. But now he isn’t here and they are saying, ‘Fuck him, I want my money.’ There is a lot of unrest right now. When Vito Rizzuto was on the streets, everyone paid attention to him. Now that Vito isn’t on the street, nobody is afraid any more. There have been three or four hits recently. I don’t think in normal times that these guys would have been taken out. This would never have happened when Vito was around.”
Indeed, several experienced underworld figures in Montreal said that, before his arrest, Vito Rizzuto often played the role of mediator to others in the underworld, whether they were involved with the bikers, the Mafia, the Irish gangs or were independent operators. Everyone seemed to feel they were under some obligation to listen to Vito.
“They help to resolve disputes. They keep the peace,” an underworld source said of the Sixth Family’s leadership. “You need that. Mind you, someone gets fucked out of money each time but you can’t go to court so there isn’t much option. The option is to shoot it out and be ostracized by everyone else. No one ever wants to go to a meeting [with Vito] because you know you’re going to get fucked out of your money.”
The meetings were often quick and casual, a far cry from how such sit-downs are portrayed in popular culture, an underworld source said. Those involved often do not even sit down.
“People can’t be seen meeting together—especially someone like Vito. Some people don’t want to be seen meeting with Vito and Vito doesn’t want to be seen meeting with a lot of people. It draws heat for both of them,” the source said. “When they talk about having a meeting or a sit-down, it isn’t like in the movies—a big powwow at a table in a darkened basement or in a private room at a restaurant. Mostly, they would arrange a meeting in the Pharma Plus [a large drug-store chain] or some other public place; it’s arranged so that the guy Vito’s meeting with just happens to be walking down the same aisle at the same time as Vito is. He gets a one-minute talking-to and then Vito moves on down the aisle.” To anyone watching, it appears to be a chance meeting of little consequence and, for police, there was little chance of hearing the chat.
Vito had the authority to listen to both sides of a dispute and pass judgment; he could tell someone he had to pay a fine or someone else that he was to wipe a debt off his books without payment, the underworld source said. Since most criminals took heed of Vito’s pronouncements, it was an effective way to settle disputes without bloodshed.
“It’s a culture of bullshit and as long as you believe in it, it works,” a gangster said. With Vito removed from the streets there were fewer and fewer believers.
ROME, FEBRUARY 2005In Italy—particularly in the south—government contracts offer a steady source of income for the Mafia. During large construction projects, Sicily’s Mafia is an invisible but ubiquitous partner. The plundering begins even before a project’s conception, through the accumulation of land. It quickly ramps up into the labor and construction fields, security for work sites, provision of organized labor and heavy machinery, payments to acquire permits and, finally, a piece of the management of the completed project and perhaps a share of the profits from it. Politicians and mafiosi have long divided this revenue between them.
In Calabria and in Sicily, organized crime groups are so pervasive in building and development activities that many companies in the north—where Italy’s financial sectors lie—try to avoid doing business there. Firms that do undertake projects budget vast sums for extortion payments and bribes. Traditionally, those that failed to accommodate the Sicilian Mafia or the ’Ndrangheta in Calabria have been beset by endless “bad luck” with their projects: executives have been kidnapped, trucks and machinery damaged, destroyed or stolen, permits and licenses delayed and labor problems not resolved.
Between the two mob strongholds of Sicily and Calabria is the Strait of Messina, a stretch of water two and a quarter miles wide. Vehicles and trains cross it by ferry and, during holidays, lineups can last more than 10 hours as vehicles wait for a spot on the vessels. A bridge-link from Sicily to the mainland has been dreamed about and argued over for more than a century but it was only in the past 25 years that serious study was undertaken. Supporters believe it will open the door to development on the relatively poor island of Sicily. Opponents point to the region’s history of active volcanoes, the anticipated environmental damage and dangerously high winds as reason to scratch the plan. Then there is the cost, estimated at about $6 billion. Setting aside the ancient legend of a sea monster living in the strait, all sides of the bridge debate were keenly aware of another beast waiting to feast on the huge public contract to build such an immense structure: the Mafia.
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