That’s what gets me. Some fuckin do- gooder is callin’ my family crooks and I’m a cocksucker? My family? My name? Fuck you. I used to steal groceries so my brothers and sisters could eat. I didn’t accept no handouts, ask your uncle, he’ll tell you. Not like these coons today with their food stamps, twenty babies from twenty different low lives, waitin’ for the government to take care of em’… fuckin leeches, if you ask me, thinks the world owes em’ somethin’.”
“I know pop,” said Anthony.
“No, you don’t know. That’s the problem. You were sheltered. Your mom spoiled you. I didn’t spoil you, that’s her, that fuckin’ side of the family… weak. I wanted to crack you over the head, you and your brotha, but your motha stepped in, said I might damage you, well, she was right. You don’t know about struggle, how could you, your belly never wanted for nothin’. Nice clothes on your back. Don’t get me wrong, a father’s job is to provide for his kids but don’t interrupt me and say you understand. Now, me and your uncle, we understand poverty boy, fuckin’ soup and bread for dinner, and that was on a good day. That’s the trouble with the world today, everybody follows the wrong person, that’s why these kids out here are so fucked up, no discipline. Parents say, ‘hey, you want to follow some rapper , go ahead, you want to talk like a fuckin’ moulenyan, I don’t care.’ No respect. That’s why these kids are so fucked up.”
“You’re making a big deal of this” said Anthony. He rolled his eyes, and then looked at his watch.
“Remember Sal Ricci?” asked Stefano.
“From Jersey?” asked Anthony.
“Nah, that’s Sal Casso, fuckin’ shit for brains, low–life, compulsive gambler. Guy couldn’t win a bet on the color shirt he was wearin’.”
“Oh yeah, he got that cute blonde, hung out at Lydia’s nail shop, round ass.” said Anthony.
“I don’t know nothin’ about that but this guy borrowed $25,000 from me. Tells me ‘please, I ain’t got no money to feed my kids, the lights at my house are about to get turned off.’ He’s cryin’ like a fuckin’ woman, and this here’s a grown man. I say ‘Sal get the fuck up, have some dignity for yourself.’ So, I give him the money, tell him 10 points, vig. He don’t care, I could have said vig was 50 points and the mother fucker would have still dipped his hands in my pocket. That’s how guys like him think. No backbone. Instead of hustling for a livin’ the guy begs for a handout. He’s no different from your Aunt Sally: Fuckin’ healthy as a bull, but she don’t want to work. She says, ‘Fuck you. The government is takin care of me.’ Fuckin’ pig.
So anyway, I know this guy’s gonna stiff me but that ain’t the point. Two weeks’ pass, no word, OK, I ain’t surprised. See, what he don’t know is I’m fuckin’ his wife while he’s out pissin’ my money away. I go over his house, sleep in his bed. At this point, his wife, Lucy is fed up with him. She ain’t bad looking for her age. I tell her about the money I lent her old man. She starts cryin’, gets on her knees and blows me in the kitchen while her kids are sleepin’. One night, Sal decides to come home, he pops in on me doin’ his wife from the back. Fuckin’ doggy style. He don’t know what to say… Lucy’s grabbing me by the arm, hidin’ behind me like I’m her man. I say, ‘check that shit at the door sweetheart, I got a wife.’ I ask Sal, ‘You got my money?’ You know what he says? ‘Not all of it.’ I say ‘OK, give me what you got and the rest I’ll take it out in trade on your wife.’ She don’t object, and she’s standin’ next to me. Sal gives me $15,000 and says OK. Then he asks me if I could let him know on the nights I’m comin’ over to fuck his wife so he won’t be there. I’m tellin’ you my boy, you can’t make this shit up, ask your uncle, he’ll vouch for me. What I’m sayin’ to you is: the Ruggerio name means somethin’. I worked too god damn hard to be embarrassed by some bum nobody’s heard of.”
Anthony sighed. “What do you want me to do here pop, take a baseball bat to this guy’s son?”
“Fuckin A, if that’s what it takes. You ain’t gotta do it, tell your uncle, have him handle it. I got my own problems, I don’t need this shit.”
“I told Anthony Jr, why you didn’t hit em’ in the mouth?” said Anthony.
“Yeah, what did he say?” Stefano drank what was left of his milk.
“He was afraid Karen might get mad at him.”
“For what? Not takin’ no shit? See that’s the problem with you. You and your brotha, you let your fuckin’ wives boss you around. Jesus Christ, sometimes I think your motha had an affair. How the fuck is my blood runnin’ through your veins. I think that some times. I ain’t sayin’ nothing bad, ‘cause you both are good people, but fuck, those women ain’t your wives, they’re your fuckin’ bosses. They tell you when to shit, how to sit up, what fuckin’ color shirt you gonna wear today. I ask for a group picture of my grandkids and your wives throw a fuckin’ fit.”
“We couldn’t get you a group picture, ‘cause Vinnie was on vacation.” said Anthony.
Stefano had his arms out, palms up. He shrugged his shoulders. “Vacation? How long do it take to take a picture? You get everybody in one room, take the fuckin’ thing and boom, you’re done.”
“Sheryl’s dad was sick, they had to go.” Said Anthony.
“And I’m nothin’? Without me that stupid bitch couldn’t hang her head on Mulberry St. They’d laugh at her. Even the coons respect her. They don’t do that ‘cause of her father, or you, or your brotha or motha, it’s me. She’s getting comped all over town, using my name, restaurants, bakeries.”
“She don’t use your name,” said Anthony.
“Don’t tell me she don’t, I know.” Stefano said.
“From who?” asked Anthony.
“Bobby. Last time he was here he says ‘Your daughter is using your name to get free shit.’ I say, ‘Who, Dritta?’ ‘No, Sheryl,’ he says. ‘She ain’t my daughter. She better knock that shit off.’ I told him to tell your brotha that.”
“Bobby didn’t say nothin’ to him.”
“No shit. I don’t see her droppin’ her father’s name, you know why? ‘Cause he’s no good. He ain’t a bad guy, but he can’t get you front row seats at the Garden. Fuckin’, unbelievable. She uses my name and can’t even give me a picture, fuck that.”
“I didn’t come here to fight with you pop,” said Anthony.
“Fight? Fight? You don’t know what a fight is. Thank your motha for that.”
“She was tryin’ to look out for us, that’s all,” said Anthony.
“A lot of good it did. I got two sons who had their balls removed the moment they said ‘I do’. Your sista got more balls than you two combined. Fuckin’ sad. Made me think, what the fuck did I do?”
“Anthony Jr’s here, he wanted to see you,” said Anthony.
“Where’s he at?” asked Stefano.
“With Uncle Gene,” said Anthony.
“Bring him here. I want to straighten him out.”
“Go easy pop.” Anthony said.
“Yeah, alright.”
Anthony leaves and returns with his son Anthony Jr, who picks up the receiver, “Yo, what’s up grandpa?”
“Yo?” said Stefano, “that’s how you talk to your grandfather?”
Big Anthony cuts in on the other receiver. “He’s kiddin’ around pop, you know he loves you.”
Stefano places his left hand underneath his right arm pit, holding his son’s stare. “I don’t need his love. I got plenty of love from people all over the country. A 14-year-old boy wrote me, from Indiana, tells me, ‘Mr. Stefano, I and hundreds of people love you,’ says he got up in front of his class, his teacher asks, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ He says, ‘he wants to be like me, ‘cause I’m a man of honor. I’m everything that America should be.’ Now this is a 14-year-old kid, mind you, I ain’t sayin’ this. I get letters like this every day, so don’t sit here and say you love me. I don’t need your love pal. You act that way ‘cause your mom and dad let you do whatever the hell you want. You’re spoiled. So don’t p
lay that rap shit with me. I’ll kick your ass. You won’t forget the beatin’ I give you. I don’t fuck around. Try me boy. You want to be treated like a fuckin moulenyan? All this trouble you causing your parents. You wouldn’t be acting like that if I was around, I’ll tell you that right now. I don’t care what your motha says.”
“OK pop, that’s enough,” said Anthony.
Stefan looks at his grandson. “Get the hell out of here and get your uncle.”
Anthony and his son stood up and left. A few minutes later a frail old man with snowy white hair, wearing wire rim glasses sat down. Gene Ruggerio, Stefano’s brother and ear to the streets, picked up the receiver. He wore a moldy brown sweater. “I ain’t gonna ask how you doin’.”
“Hey Gene, do me a favor, don’t bring ‘em here no more,” said Stefano.
“Who, Anthony?” said Gene.
“ I’m locked up. I’m tryin’ to make the best of it and these people come here and bring me down.”
“What are you gonna do?” said Gene.
“Bunch of jealous pricks. Only time I hear from my family is when somethin’ bad happens. Oh, Mary got hit by a bus, poor thing. When she was alive, she was dirt. She never did nothin’ to nobody, but that’s the way these people think. Anthony only comes down ‘cause he knows without me the streets will eat ‘em up. He’s got nobody to turn to. Sure, you’re his uncle but you ain’t no spring chicken my friend. Once you’re gone nobody’s gonna give a shit about him. That’s what this thing has become. Ten, fifteen years’ ago, I see Carlo’s kid walking down the street, I show him respect. Don’t matter if his dad’s gone. It’s respect. These knuckleheads coming up dress like their goin’ to rob a 7-11.”
“No class,” said Gene.
“Fuckin’ right… What’s happening with Jerry’s crew? I hear Sally might have ratted.”
“Nobody knows. He’s been missin’ for three weeks.”
Stefano looked around for any prying ears, and then leaned into the plexiglass. “Did you give the order?”
Gene waved him off. “Course not.”
“Then the feds got ‘em.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Come on, Gene. When Frankie went missin’ for a month, he shows back up. The next day, I get pinched. Don’t gotta be a fuckin’ brain surgeon to connect the dots.”
“Fuckin Frankie,” said Gene. Cocksuckers livin’ off the government tit.”
“Yeah, but he gotta wake up every mornin’ and look at himself in the mirror. The fuckin rat he is. That’s worse than any prison sentence.”
Gene nodded. “I hear he’s livin’ in California. Wants to be a movie star.”
Stefano smiled. “No shit?”
“Yeah, I got someone takin’ a trip out there.”
“Good… Rat fuck!”
“I arranged a sit down with the old man,” said Gene.
“Who? Our friend in Long Island?”
“Yeah.”Gene said.
“Good, now that I’m in this shit hole, he’s dying to take my seat with the other 4 politicians.”
“I took care of it. I talked to the other politicians.”
“What they say?” said Stefano.
“They’re with you.”
“Be careful. They say that now but…”
“Another thing,” said Gene.
“Yeah?” asked Stefano.
“Mickey Loccosio.”
“What about him?” said Stefano.
“It’s been almost five years.”
“Shit, it’s been that long?” said Stefano.
Gene nodded.
“Ok, he’s got my blessin’.”
“What about the other two kids?” said Gene, “the Salerno kid, and Natale?”
“You vouch for ‘em?”
Gene gave a lazy shrug of the shoulders. “Both come from good stock. Good earners. The Natale kids married to a daughter of some politician, some senator or something.”
Stefano nodded in agreement. “Will he play ball?”
“Don’t know much about him.”
“Feel him out.” Stefano said.
“Yeah, sure thing,” said Gene. “Everything’s set up. Next Wednes..” Gene stopped midsentence, remembering the phone call might be recorded.
Stefano knew what his brother was thinking. “Relax, we’re not being recorded. My guy in here made sure the device is turned off. I mean, fuck you take me for? You think I’d be telling you any of this shit if we was recorded? I think pop smacked you upside the head too many times as a kid.”
“You know me. I’m just cautious,” said Gene.
Stefano said, “So the meeting’s set?”
“Yeah. Everyone will be there. I’m hearing shit about our Wall Street friend. Talking about how he wants to be the boss.”
Stefano smiled. “Everyone wants to wear the crown but no one wants to go through what it takes.”
“You sure you want to go through with this? We could be walking into a trap. The commission’s already got a hard on for you.”
“That’s the problem with you. You worry too much. All beefs will be settled. Did our Mexican friend reach out to you?”
“Yeah, everything’s in motion,” said Gene.
“Good. Another thing, take care of my son’s problem, God knows he ain’t got no balls.”
“Of course. Morgue or hospital?” Gene asked.
Stefano stood up. “Hospital. But make sure they don’t leave for a while.” Stefano motioned for the guard to take him back to his cell.
The news came a few weeks before Stefano’s son and brother visited. Only Gene knew.
Robert Stern paid a visit to Stefano Ruggerio in prison with great news. The court of appeals had ordered a new trial. Apparently, the government’s key witness Frank ‘Frankie the hammer’ Embarrato, Stefano Ruggerio’s former underboss and most trusted confidant, and the man instrumental in putting his old friend in prison had a change of heart.
The Hammer wrote a letter to the judge stating Stefano Ruggerio had no knowledge of the four murders he was accused of and that he would name the true culprits at Mr. Ruggerio’s new trial.
Stefano Ruggerio was transferred back to New York for his retrial. Days leading up to his transfer back home he complained of stomach pain and consistent headaches. Robert Stern petitioned for Stefano to visit a specialist while in New York. The judge granted the request. But Stefano would never set foot in a doctor’s office. The story was a front. Stefano had paid off the Marshall’s who were in charge of his transportation. They took Stefano to an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. They hung outside. One of the Marshalls said, “You only got an hour Stefano.”
Stefano was met at the door by a large man wearing a hard face. “How you doin’ Mr. Ruggerio? Right through here.”
Stefano walked in the warehouse like he owned the place. He was draped in an Armani suite, but that was overlooked by his cocky swagger. Gene stood in the corner with a few members of his crew. All the bosses from the five families were sitting around metal picnic tables, with their bodyguards and a few soldiers hovering in the back. Gaspare Scalia, owner of Scalia construction. He also had his hands in waste management, and credit card fraud. Lewis Mormando was in charge of all the porn in Manhattan. He owned a fish market in Little Italy. Dominick Lamanna ate up most of the Unions in New Jersey. He owned Lamanna’s restaurant in Brooklyn. Absent from the meeting was Rosario Cali, who ran Harlem and had legitimate businesses around the city. Rosario was serving a fifteen year stretch for conspiracy to commit murder. He was also Stefano’s strongest ally. As kids, the two used to highjack trucks together and take down scores.
Stefano went around and embraced every boss before taking a seat. This had been the first commission meeting between the families in ten years. Arrests and multiple informants had made it difficult to meet.
“Thank you all for taking the time to meet,” said Stefano. “Time is of the essence so I’ll get right to the point.”
Dominick Lammana
held up his hand. “Let me stop you right there. Since you are short on time, I’ll just say my peace. Everyone in here respects you. You stood up like a man, took your punishment without giving any of us up. It’s nice to know there are still stand up guys in our thing.”
Stefano saluted, as if to say ‘Thank You.’
Dominick’s slender frame eased forward. He rested his elbows on the table. His fingers interlocked. “Having said that, it might be best if you step down as boss.”
“Fuck you talkin’ about?” said Stefano.
“You’re serving a life sentence. No chance you’ll ever see daylight.”
“My retrial starts tomorrow,” said Stefano, “I’m gonna be out in no time.”
“Million to one shot. Even if you do,” said Dominick, “your flashiness attracts attention. That’s not good.”
Stefano kept his emotions in check. “You tellin’ me how to run my family, Dominick?”
Lewis Mormando interceded. “We’re giving you a way out.”
Stefano laughed. “A way out?”
Lewis Mormando said, “Come on, Stefano. You’ve been gone awhile. It’s no secret some of your guys aren’t happy. We don’t want you to end up like our friend from Atlantic City, lying in your own blood.”
“I appreciate that,” said Stefano, his voice full of sarcasm.
Dominick Lamanna said, “If this trial goes your way you’ll be a free man. Retire, you don’t need all that bullshit. Move to Arizona and grow tomatoes. You have our word you will not be harmed.”
Lewis Mormando said, “We’re being straight with you because you’re a stand-up…”
“Yeah, I know,” said Stefano, “I’m a stand-up guy. You keep sayin’ that. Let’s just say I don’t feel like retiring. Then what?”
Gaspare Scalia, who had been silent the entire time, spoke up. He was more forthcoming. “Then bad things might happen.”
Stefano and Gaspare locked eyes. Their hatred for each other went back decades when they were both rising through the ranks. Stefano had slept with Gaspare’s mistress, some dancer who Gaspare was in love with. He never forgot. It pleased him to see Stefano boxed in a corner.
Confessions of a Vigilante Page 6