by Pete Earley
Some of the most interesting times in my career were spent talking to hundreds of criminals, almost all of whom were witnesses. I had no illusions why they were helping the government. Some had cut themselves a deal. Most knew it was their only chance to stay alive. Others wanted to take revenge on their former pals. They did not fool me, yet I genuinely felt there was some good in most of them, perhaps buried down deep, but still there. I recall going into a prison unit in which we kept the most difficult WITSEC inmates, only to find several of them sitting on the floor hooking rugs with designs of cartoon characters for kids in hospitals. Most of these men were killers, yet they took pride in their work for the kids. They had lived wasted lives and caused unbelievable pain to others. I often wondered what they could have accomplished if they had not chosen crime as a career.
There were many times while Pete and I were working on this book when I would become frustrated because it seemed that all we were doing was focusing on the failures, such as Marion “Mad Dog” Pruett. WITSEC has, in fact, changed thousands of people’s lives for the better. Criminals have given up crime. Children whose parents were murderers, thieves, or robbers have grown up in traditional law-abiding homes. WITSEC is a program that grew and changed because of its mistakes. After Pruett, we began giving witnesses psychological tests. Obviously, I wished we had done that before. I spent many sleepless nights tormented because of what he had done; I racked my brain trying to think of ways we could have stopped him. We didn’t implement the change until Pruett showed us we needed new safeguards. The history of WITSEC is not a history of failures, however. It is a history of problems encountered and problems resolved. I also firmly believe that the thousands of witnesses and their families who have made a successful transition and are now leading ordinary lives should be allowed to maintain their privacy. I have often described a successful relocation as one in which the witness forgets he and his family have been relocated, forgets about us, and, most importantly, doesn’t feel the need to look over his shoulder.
Studies undertaken during my tenure showed that WITSEC had a higher rehabilitation rate than any other government program. I believe there are several reasons why tough criminals changed after they were relocated. Obviously, many felt they would be killed, and the threat was such a deterrent that they gave up crime. But I also know from meeting thousands of witnesses that many of them jumped at the chance of a fresh start in a program that gave them a real opportunity to begin life over and improve themselves. They were moved into new surroundings, they were forced to cut their ties with their old associates, they were given comfortable housing and monthly subsistence, and we helped them find a job. We provided psychological support when needed, too. In short, we did all we could to help them succeed. Compare that to a convict who is released from prison. If he is lucky, he is sent to a halfway house. Because of his criminal record, his chances of finding a good job are slim. Worse, he has no money, may not have a home, and often ends up running with the same criminal friends that he left behind when he went to prison.
Not only did WITSEC help criminals change their lives, but it helped remove more than ten thousand criminals from the streets. This is another aspect of the program that is often overlooked. Yes, Sammy Gravano killed nineteen people. Yes, he is a gangster who did horrible things, and I put him into WITSEC. But Gravano also was responsible for putting LCN crime boss John Gotti and thirty-six other gangsters in prison. How many people’s lives were saved because Gotti and his crew were put behind bars?
When the program first started, some argued that it was okay to use mob witnesses but that the government shouldn’t assist them by giving them new names and sending them into unaware communities. It should simply give them a sum of money and send them on their way. I’ve always felt this view was unrealistic. No witness is going to testify knowing that he or she will be murdered just before taking the witness stand or just after leaving it. Surely the witness is entitled to some form of protection—as is society. The best thing we could do for society was help this witness to start a new, productive, honest life. As our recidivism studies have shown, by helping a witness through the relocation process we were reducing the chances of his again committing crimes. I also remember that photo album the Bureau of Narcotics prepared early in my career, which contained eight-by-ten photographs of government informants murdered in the most gruesome ways. I was determined never to see another album like that.
Is WITSEC perfect? Of course not. Have I made mistakes? You bet I have, plenty of them. One of my biggest regrets is that WITSEC was always most difficult for witnesses who were not criminals. Innocent bystanders who simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time paid a heavy price for doing the right thing. I wish there had been some way to make life easier for them.
I felt confident when I left the Justice Department’s Office of Enforcement Operations that WITSEC was in extremely capable hands. Steve T’Kach, who took over my witness protection functions, was providing guidance as to policy. Sallie Saliba, who joined me just out of college, was now running WITSEC day to day and doing an extraordinary job. Cathy Breeden, who had worked with me since 1969, except for a short stint, was handling covert operations. But I soon discovered how fragile even a well-established government program can be. I have always felt that former director Gonzalez was well-meaning when he decided to combine court security with WITSEC, but that proved to be a disaster. When Gonzalez asked me to review the program three years later, I discovered morale was terrible. Old-timers were retiring and the service was finding it difficult to attract new blood.
Gonzalez didn’t like specialists, but being a WITSEC inspector requires special skills—a real knack for dealing with people who are under tremendous stress and who often are not the nicest or easiest people in the world to get along with. Protecting federal judges is clearly one of the Marshals Service’s most important functions. Consequently, the judges’ needs are going to take priority. When I did my review, I found that after the merger of court security and WITSEC, resources that were supposed to be going to WITSEC were being diverted to meet the needs of the judges. The result was that WITSEC was understaffed. Much of what we accomplished during the years that I oversaw the program was and currently is in jeopardy. Dozens of Marshals Service employees pleaded with me for help. That is the reason I bring the problems up now: as a call to arms of sorts. This program is too important to law enforcement not to give it the support that it so desperately needs—especially now, after the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. Much as the Mafia was, terrorist groups are extremely difficult to penetrate. But WITSEC has proven it can help turn terrorists against each other. The key is demonstrating that we can protect those courageous enough to cooperate. This is another reason why we must restore WITSEC to the way it was before the changes, and give its specialists the resources they need.
The seeds for this book were sown shortly after I retired. Miriam encouraged me to put some of my experiences down on paper so my grandchildren would have the benefit of knowing a little more about their grandfather. I called it “Papa’s Journal.” As I worked, the book began to take on a life of its own, and when Pete joined me, it became more than the recollections of a grandfather.
As I sit here writing these final pages and looking back on my career, I wonder where time has gone. I remember so clearly the first time that I entered the Justice Department and the awe I felt. I recall once reading a saying by St. Francis of Assisi that we have made this book’s epigraph. He wrote, “Start by doing what’s necessary, then what’s possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” I like that. It seems to fit WITSEC.
I also find myself thinking of my father, Abe. One night when I was a teenager, he took me with him to a tenement building on the Lower East Side where he was attending a community meeting held with members of a local teenage gang. As he was speaking, a gang member suddenly blurted out: “You don’t know what it is like for us growing up here.” My father’s answer surprised
me. “I know very much what it’s like here,” he said. “I grew up here. This was my ghetto, too.” He described the poverty, the gangs, the lack of education, the anti-Semitism. Then he spoke about how he had improved himself by working hard during the day and at night studying Shakespeare and music. He said he now owned a business and lived in an apartment in an upscale part of Manhattan. “You can do the same,” he insisted. During the ride home, my father talked to me, as he often did, about how important it was for a person to always remember his roots and to always, always, give something back to the community. “You owe a debt to society for what you have been given. You must give something back.”
Dad, I tried.
Gerald Shur, now retired, sitting on the patio rail facing his backyard. (Photograph by Dudley Reed)
A SHUR FAMILY ALBUM
A beaming young Gerry Shur in a policeman’s outfit—his first appearance in law enforcement.
Ready to audition for the Ted Mack Amateur Hour in 1949: drummer Shur with his boyhood friends, Edward Schwarzer (left) and Bernard Breslin (right). They didn’t make it.
Miriam and Gerald Shur a few weeks before their secret elopement in 1952. Both were underage, but four months later their parents consented to their marriage.
The Marshals Service was ordered by President Kennedy to protect black students in the South enrolling in previously all-white schools.
(U.S. Marshals Service photo)
WITSEC inspectors protecting a hooded witness. This is a training exercise, so the witness is also a deputy marshal.
(U.S. Marshals Service photo)
A witness testifies before Congress behind a screen while WITSEC inspectors stand watch.
(U.S. Marshals Service photo)
Former mob hitman Joseph “The Animal” Barboza testifying against the New England mob at a congressional committee hearing. A marshal sits on each side, and two more are facing the audience.
Marshal John Partington takes New England crime boss Raymond Patriarca to jail after Barboza’s testimony led to his conviction.
(Courtesy of John Partington)
An armed John Partington (right) and another marshal dashing off a helicopter with an unidentified witness hiding his face.
(U.S. Marshals Service photo)
Reis R. Kash, a deputy U.S. Marshal who became the first chief of WITSEC.
(Courtesy of Reis Kash)
Former FBI agent William Hall, who inherited a troubled WITSEC program when he became director of the U.S. Marshals Service and brought in Howard Safir from the DEA to turn it around.
(Courtesy of Gerald Shur)
Howard Safir, who as chief of WITSEC shaped it into the best witness protection operation in the world.
(Courtesy of Eugene Coon)
WITSEC chief Eugene Coon, who built on Safir’s changes to further improve its operation.
(U.S. Marshals Service photo)
A hooded witness testifying before a Senate Foreign Relations subcommittee investigating Panamanian ruler Manuel Noriega.
(AP Worldwide Photos)
James Cardinali, who testified against John Gotti, charged that he was an easy target for organized crime after getting dumped by WITSEC. He was relocated soon after he appeared wearing this placard in public.
(AP Worldwide Photos)
Former protected witness Marion “Mad Dog” Pruett, who killed his wife and four others during a lethal rampage, and was convicted of murder and eventually executed.
(AP Worldwide Photos)
Joseph Valachi, the first Mafia member to break the code of omertà, testifying before Senator McClellan’s Permanent Investigations Subcommittee in 1963.
(AP Worldwide Photos)
Vincent “Fat Vinnie” Teresa, one of WITSEC’s first bigtime mobster witnesses, was given numerous chances to reform but couldn’t stay straight.
(AP/Worldwide Photos)
Protected witness Sammy “The Bull” Gravano, whose testimony put crime boss John Gotti in jail, didn’t stay out of trouble for long. In May 2001 he pleaded guilty to running a drug ring.
(AP Worldwide Photos)
Attorney General Janet Reno and Assistant Attorney General Jo Ann Harris present Gerald Shur with the Attorney General’s Mary C. Lawton Lifetime Achievement Award for his 33-year career with the Criminal Division of the Justice Department.
(Courtesy of Gerald Shur)
For Patti Michele
who has made all my dreams come true
—PETE EARLEY
For Miriam
my lover and best friend, who has been my
lifelong inspiration
—GERALD SHUR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Gerald Shur is deeply indebted to his colleagues in the Department of Justice with whom he worked from 1961 through 1995, especially those very dedicated public servants in the Office of Enforcement Operations. They consistently have served their country with integrity and dedication. Henry Petersen, John C. Keeney, and Phil Wilens deserve special recognition as mentors and friends. He thanks Fred Hess for allowing him to be his “partner” and for his support in OEO.
He is indebted to the original ten intelligence analysts: Peggy Alexander, Cathy Kimrey, Carol Cragg, Marcy Edelman, Pat Gerts, Andrea Grier, Patricia Harrison, Suzanne Hinson, Carolyn Prugh, Irene Rosenbloom, and to Linda Kuzmack, who soon followed them. Deep thanks to Hope Byrne and Susan Grimes, who became the first analysts solely dedicated to WITSEC, and to Betty Cleghorn, Dottie McElroy, and Janet Carter, his secretaries during WITSEC’s formative years. They were succeeded by many others who faced equal challenges with the same dedication. He is especially grateful to his special assistant Diane Reid for her many years of valuable advice.
He was privileged to work for and with a succession of many chiefs of the Organized Crime and Racketeering Section, each of whom brought his own special talents and contributions to the war on organized crime: Edwyn Silberling, William G. Hundley, Henry Petersen, William S. Lynch, David Margolis, Kurt Muellenberg, and Paul Coffey. He is grateful for the efforts and cooperation of the federal investigators and the prosecutors who fought the real battles in the war on organized crime; they distinguished themselves every day. He is particularly grateful to G. Robert Blakey, the architect of the most significant laws used to fight organized crime, one of which was the foundation on which WITSEC was created. Had it not been for the imagination of Charles Rogovin, Martin Danziger, Joseph Nardoza, and Henry Ruth, many organized crime efforts would not have come to fruition.
There are many who served in the United States Marshals Service to whom he is especially indebted for the success of the Witness Program: Wayne Colburn, Bill Hall, Stan Morris, John Twomey, Louis McKinney, Eugene Coon, Howard Safir, John Cleveland, Hugh McDonald, and the hundreds of inspectors, deputies, and specialists. In the Bureau of Prisons, he is grateful to Norm Carlson, Mike Quinlan, Kathy Hawk-Sawyer, J. D. Williams, Shirley Stutely Ritchie, and the other BOP employees for their extraordinary contributions to the success of WITSEC.
He is indebted to his agent, Ron Goldfarb, and the book’s editor, Ann Harris, for making it a reality, and to his friend Joan Santelli for reading the manuscript and candidly sharing her views with him.
Gerry Shur is proud of the members of his family and grateful for the joy they bring to him: his wife, Miriam, who gives him her love and support always, and Ilene, Ronald, Jim, Leslie, Adena, Stephanie, David, Sam, Michael, Amanda, Evan, Walt, Ruth, Bob, Rick, Jim, Paulette, David, Cindy, Katie, Barbara, and Jeffrey. He is especially indebted to Abe and Emma Heifetz, who accepted him as their son from the moment Miriam and he married, and to Lillian Nissell, his aunt, who has always demonstrated faith and pride in whatever he does. He is thankful to his parents, Rose and Abe, who died much too young, for their love, warmth, and constant reassurance that he had worth. It was from them he learned the importance of integrity and the necessity that we all give back.
Finally, he thanks all of those who entered WITSEC, witnesses and family memb
ers, who because of their willingness to give up their current lives and testify, often under the fear of death, contributed so much to our system of justice. For it is they who have had to endure the hardships of relocation and changed lives.
• • •
Pete Earley would like to thank the following persons for their help with this book: Bernard Breslin, Don Campbell, Max Caulfield, Pascal “Paddy” Calabrese, Peter Carlson, Norman Carlson, Lee Coppola, Paul Coffey, Eugene Coon, Monica D’antuono, Ronald Goldfarb, Fred Graham, Eduardo Gonzalez, Jesse Grider, William Hall, Wanda Watson Haynes, William G. Hundley, Eric Jurgensen, Reis R. Kash, Thomas Kennelly, John C. Keeney, Jerry Lyda, John S. Martel, Salvatore R. Martoche, Donald “Bud” McPherson, Max Mermelstein, Al Miller, Marilyn Mode, John Partington, Robert “Bob” Peloquin, Lynda Pinello, John Russell, Charles Rogovin, Howard Safir, Edward Schwarzer, John Twomey, Philip Wilens, and J. D. Williams. He would also like to personally thank Witness X for having the courage to share her personal story.