by Tony Bertot
While skeptical and mistrustful of the Giordano enterprise, the truce was accepted by all. As a result, the businesses owned by the Costellino family were turned over to the Giordano family. The San Francisco families divided up the businesses in Chicago, while the Giordano family took complete control of the businesses in New York.
The family sold their East Hampton estate and moved to Bristol, New Jersey, (approximately seventy-five miles from New York) where they purchased fifty acres of prime real estate. The new home was built with state of the art surveillance equipment as well as a twenty-four-hour armed security force whose numbers could only be estimated at fifty or better. Felicia knew they had made a lot of enemies, and it would take some time before they could root them out and/or turn them.
During that period, she had tried to incorporate the help of Nick Costello. It wasn’t until the third try that she finally got a response. Nick explained to Felicia that he had been away on assignment and could not be reached. He also told her that he would be unable to accept any assignments for a few years because of previous commitments.
“Years!” shouted Felicia into the phone.
“Yes, I will contact you when I am once more available. Good-bye,” Nick calmly responded and hung up.
Felicia was beside herself. She was used to calling the shots, not being treated as if she didn’t matter, or told what to do or to be. She gave the orders and people jumped.
How dare he brush me away like that, she thought. Could he have been hurt, or worse identified? What if he was identified? No one would dare to come forward. Not if they thought he was working for us. Who the hell is Nick Costello, anyway?
Felicia decided to mount her own investigation as to the real identity of Nick Costello. An investigation that took five years only to find that there were a few thousand Nick Costellos in the United States, not to mention more than a few thousand out of Sicily and Italy. None of the hundreds she pushed to investigate proved viable. Nick Costello remained a mystery, a ghost or phantom who came and went as he saw fit.
Though Felicia felt more secure in her mansion, the thought that Nick Costello was still out there haunted her for months afterward. She knew his style and technique were beyond her ability and man power to overcome. He was fluid and swift. He worked alone, thus, enabling him the ease with which to move undetected and undeterred. The ball was and always would be in his court, and she did not like the rules of his game. She wanted to own, to harness, to control what was beyond her reach. She knew too well that she needed, but could never trust, Nick Costello, the bastard.
After conferring with her brother on how she felt, Fabio was able to convince Felicia that even though they now lived in a more secure environment unknown to the assassin, if Nick Costello wanted to come after her, for any reason, there really wasn’t much they could do about it. However, Nick had saved both of their lives, so why would he come after them? This put Felicia at ease somewhat, but not totally. Nick would find them if he so wished.
The last twenty years had taken their toll on Felicia. She made many enemies on that fateful day back in ’64. As a result, there had been several attempts on her and her brother’s lives. But now things had calmed down; with little threat from any of the newly created families, it was time to walk away. So she thought.
The Task Force
May 8, 1984 (New York City)
At thirty-seven years of age, John Connolly was only five foot four, weighed 155 pounds, with thick blond hair and the honest, good looks that attracted women like flies. Behind his back his colleagues called him Baby Face Connolly. This was not to say that he lacked respect. On the contrary, everyone had the highest regard for him, acknowledging his long-sought-after and well-deserved success in his chosen field. Graduate of both the police academy and Harvard Law, Connolly was one of the youngest agents to achieve “Agent in Charge” in FBI history.
Over a year ago, he took command of the Organized Crime Task Force (OCTF), which had consisted of fifteen agents. Today it had over twenty-five agents and was situated in mid-Manhattan with satellite offices in Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Long Island. The OCTF’s database included the names of all of the precinct captains for New York, all of which had been instructed to report any crimes that may have direct ties to any of the crime families.
One of Connolly’s first assignments was to identify all of the crime families in the United States. He also created a special unit, consisting of five agents, to see if there were any links to any crime syndicates in other countries. Lastly, he realized that to be successful in bringing these dedicated criminals to what he liked to call the Last Supper-justice, he would have to identify any influences the crime families had over law enforcement agencies. Not an easy task.
In one year, OCTF put together a 250-page investigative report that listed every suspected member of every crime family in the United States. The report went on to list other countries that were suspected of being involved with the shipment of drugs, arms, and the trafficking of young girls and boys for prostitution.
One of the most powerful families listed was the Giordano family, run by Felicia and Fabio Giordano. Rumor was that they masterminded the infamous “Last Breakfast at La Ristorante,” where close to a hundred people lost their lives after consuming some wine, which had been artfully tainted, resulting in a well-planned clean sweep. It was also rumored they currently controlled most of the prostitution, numbers, and drug traffic in the state of New York, and that they had strong ties to crime families in most US cities, including Chicago and San Francisco.
During that same time period, OTCF enlisted the aid of several police officers, directly from the academy, to infiltrate the organization. This was met with heavy criticism when two officers were found dead with gunshots to the head, only two weeks after being accepted into the Giordano family.
Two of John’s top agents, Sam Williams and Sheila Cooper, were assigned to investigate the murders. Sam Williams was a veteran agent of ten years, standing at five foot eight, 185 pounds, and one of the first black agents to join the FBI. Sheila, on the other hand, was five foot six, weighed only 145 pounds soaking wet, and had only one year in the agency. Both, however, proved their loyalty and dedication to following the code they swore to uphold, time and time again. John Connolly had a gift for recognizing the qualities in people, and he saw these two as very good in dealing with a situation, especially when restraint and understanding the letter of the law was called for.
Prompted by the death of the slain undercover officers, the two agents visited Felicia at her mansion in New Jersey, and then later at her favorite restaurant. At one point during the investigation, Felicia asked the two agents if the officers had been tortured before they were killed.
“No, not that we know of. Why?” asked Sheila.
“It would be shameful if whoever took their lives in such a sadistic manner would torture them as well. After all, they were only doing their sworn duty,” Felicia responded. Sheila and Sam stared at Felicia with contempt.
Sheila, placing both of her hands on the table, went right up to Felicia’s face, and staring into her eyes said, “It’s just a matter of time before we take you down.”
Felicia, smiling, stared back and replied, “That will never happen, and I suggest you keep your distance before I get a restraining order against you and your partner.” The tension in the room could be felt as Felicia’s bodyguards moved toward the two agents, only being stopped when Felicia waved them off. “You better leave now. My friends are getting nervous,” she told the agents.
Looking up at her “friends” Sheila said, “If I were you, boys, I would be distancing myself from her. It’s just a matter of time,” she said. “We’ll be back, Ms. Giordano. Your luck is running out!” replied Sheila, looking down at Felicia.
An Unexpected Break
May 11-13, 1984 (New York City)
When both Sam Williams and Sheila Cooper returned to their headquarters, John Connolly invited them into his offi
ce. Closing the door behind him, he asked how their conference with Felicia Giordano had gone. He listened intently, watching how they reacted as they relayed their experience in dealing with Felicia. John could see that these two agents were serious about their jobs, and that they also understood the limitations that were being placed upon them.
“Sir, if I could persuade Ms. Giordano to volunteer as my sparring partner in the ring, it would really make my day,” Sheila remarked to her captain, bringing a smile to both Connolly and Williams.
“I would like to invite you two to a barbecue Stephanie and I are throwing this coming weekend,” the captain said suddenly. “I can’t invite the entire task force, however. Unfortunately, the Hampton estate is being painted. So please keep this between us.” He smiled, as did they.
“Umm, sure, sir,” responded Sheila.
“Yes, sir, it would be my pleasure,” Sam said.
John and Stephanie Connolly and their three children (John, Julie, and Ingrid—ages twelve, nine, and seven respectfully) lived in a three-bedroom Cape Cod house located in Levittown, Long Island. Stephanie grew up in this home, which was left to her by her parents when they retired to Florida some years back.
It was a beautiful and comfortable May day when Sam, his wife, Erin, and their two teenage daughters, Tami and Lenita, arrived at the Connolly home around 1:00 p.m. The kids disappeared almost immediately into the backyard, or to the game room where there was a pool table and a ping-pong table, the latest video games, and two televisions.
Sheila arrived alone around 1:30 p.m., bringing a home-baked cherry pie and a bottle of red wine. Both John and Sam greeted her when she arrived. There were several other people at the barbecue, and the mixer was quite comfortable. A couple of neighbors and a few more friends arrived a few minutes later. In all, there were about twenty-five people.
At 4:30 p.m., after everyone had stuffed themselves with hot dogs, hamburgers, and sausages, they retired into different parts of the house. The ladies congregated in the dining room while the men moved into the living room. There were outbursts of laughter as stories of life’s experiences were shared among friends.
After awhile, several people said their goodbyes. With only a few guests left, John invited Sheila and Sam up to his study where he wanted to show them his gun collection. The remaining guests were having coffee with Stephanie in the dining room.
After closing the door behind him, John asked them both to sit down. “What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room. It is not, and I emphasize the word not, to be shared with the other agents or anyone else,” he ordered.
Both Sam and Sheila were taken by surprise. “Yes, sir,” they both responded.
“It seems as if we caught a very lucky break, though through unfortunate circumstances.”
“What do you mean, sir?” asked Sheila.
“Do either of you know Assistant DA Leo Agostino?” John asked them.
“I don’t,” responded Sheila.
“Yes, I do. I had a case with him back in ’82, which we lost,” Sam answered. “It was just before you came on board and took over the task force.”
“Yes, the case against Leo Russo, one of Giordano’s lieutenants,” added John.
“We went in there with guns blaring. We had tapes and photos of an exchange between Russo and one of his dealers. This was the break we were looking for. Man, if we could have gotten Russo, it would have been just a matter of time before we would have gotten the rest of the Giordano family.
Sam, now standing, continued, “Then things started to go wrong, just before we went into trial. First, the photos and tapes disappeared. Then surprise witnesses came forward as alibis to Leo’s whereabouts when the exchange had taken place. We tried to get a hold of the witnesses, but then they disappeared. Mr. Agostino pleaded with the judge, uh . . . Judge Sam Livingston, but it was no use. The lawyer for the defense, Mike Angelino, was good. One of the mob’s top lawyers out of Chicago, if I remember right. The case was thrown out due to lack of evidence. Man, was I mad!”
“Well,” said John, “the other day, I had a visitor. It was Mr. Agostino. It seems like one of the undercover officers who was executed was a relative of none other than Mike Angelino.”
“What, the defense lawyer?” Sheila asked.
“Yep, big ass mistake for the Giordano family,” added John.
“But . . . but he’s their lawyer. He can’t testify against them, can he?” asked Sam.
“No, he can’t. But what is interesting is that he did provide us with the name of someone who is not protected by attorney-client privilege. Judge Samual Livingston,” announced John.
“The judge who presided over the Russo case?” asked Sam.
“Yes, none other,” responded John.
“He is on the take?” Sheila asked.
“Yep, agent Ed White and I have been secretly working on gathering the evidence that would put him away,” John said. “A couple of days ago, we visited him at his home and had a long conversation. It seems as if the judge is in fear of his life, and that of his family, and wants protection, so we struck up a deal. His family has been relocated to an undisclosed location. The judge will join them after he testifies against the Giordano family.”
“Wow, that is a break,” Sheila remarked.
“Last night the judge’s house was bombed,” said John.
“Oh my God,” commented Sheila.
“How did they know?” asked Sam.
“I don’t know. Obviously someone in the bureau,” responded John. There was silence; each lost in their own thoughts.
“Captain, what do you need us to do?” asked Sam.
“You are both going to disappear for a few weeks. I need you both to go home and pack your things. Sheila, at one o’clock pick up Sam at his house, go to the location I have written down on this paper, and relieve the two gentlemen who are babysitting the judge. Make sure you aren’t followed.” Handing Sheila the paper and a bag, John continued, “Here is an electronic scanner. Scan your car before leaving your house, and then again after you pick Sam up. Under no circumstances are you to call anyone, family or otherwise. One more thing, you will be working with two others in protecting the judge. You are to take your orders from them. Is that understood?” he asked them both.
“Yes, sir, we understand,” both nodded.
Tyler’s Return
June 6, 1984 (New York City)
Tyler Santiago stood staring up at the third-floor window where he had lived with his mother so long ago. His deep blue eyes moistened as he thought back to the last time he was here. His heart began to pound harder as he once more visualized his mother’s ruthless murder. With strong hands that trembled, his lean, strong body almost buckled as he relived the scene. Never knowing his father, his mother was his only source of love and strength.
Raised by his uncle, who took him in after his mother died, Tyler learned quickly to adapt. His uncle George, a police officer, was very kind and had opened his home and heart to him.
Shortly after taking him in, his uncle took him upstate to an open field, where he made a makeshift dummy, gave Tyler his gun, and ordered him to empty the chamber at the dummy. At first, Tyler hesitated, looking at his uncle, shouting that this would not bring back his mother. “Yeah, you’re right, but you can’t kill the bastards that killed her. Shoot the damn dummy!” his uncle ordered. Tyler, with tears in his eyes, shot at the dummy. Every time he ran out of bullets, his uncle would take the gun, reload it, and give it back to him. After a short time, Tyler was reloading the gun by himself and putting holes all over the dummy. This went on for almost two hours. When the bullets finally ran out, his uncle took him in his arms, and they both cried openly.
His uncle loved Tyler’s mother. He looked into Tyler’s eyes and asked his forgiveness for not finding who did this and apologized for not protecting them. Tyler realized that his uncle felt that it had been his fault and that he should have prevented it somehow.
“Tyler,�
�� he remarked, “we need to go on. Your mother will always be in your heart, and you must never dishonor her memory by taking out any revenge, or seeking to hurt others for what has happened.” Tyler watched his uncle as tears ran down his eyes. Tyler realized in that instant that this man was hurting as much as he was, and that he too lost someone dear to him. They forgave each other and moved on. From that day forward, they never spoke of it again.
Tyler was far wiser because of this man. He became the son his uncle never had. He excelled in school and became a straight A student, continuing to excel all the way through high school and then later on in the police academy.
He remembered when he graduated from high school, both his aunt and uncle took him out to a nice dinner. Over the years, they became very close; their love was very strong. When his uncle kidded him about finally earning his keep, Tyler smiled back and stated, “C’mon can’t you take care of me for a few years more?”
“What you mean, boy?” his uncle barked at him.
“Well, how am I going to enroll in the police academy if I don’t have someone to take care of me?” Tyler responded.
His uncle stared at his nephew, tears swelling up in his eyes. “What are you saying?” he asked.
“I have been accepted and will attend the police academy. Just call me rookie!” Then he smiled.
His uncle could not contain himself and started to cry. Then gathering some composure, he rose from his chair, excused himself, and walked to the men’s room. His aunt, with tears in her eyes, placed a warm hand on her nephew’s cheek. “Oh, Tyler, are you sure?”
“Yes, Mom,” he said.
When George returned, Tyler commented, “Dad, you’re making a spectacle of yourself!”
His uncle sat back down and looked up at him. “I hope you are not doing this for me. You know I don’t want you to do something you may later regret. You know,” his uncle went on, “we are very proud of you, and we don’t want you to waste your life walking the beat and putting your life on the line.”