First Sherlock Holmes movie: Sherlock Holmes Baffled (1900).
EXPOSED! A few months later, in early 2008, Mrs. Garibaldi received a call from one of her friends: watch the new movie, Natale in Crociera (Christmas on a Cruise), said the friend, and pay close attention to the background people. Mrs. Garibaldi watched it, and sure enough, there was Martino—along with his mistress—sitting at a table enjoying themselves in the background of a scene that was filmed in the Dominican Republic.
OUTCOME: Thanks to the new evidence, Mrs. Garibaldi was able to track Martino down and has since served him with divorce papers...and is suing him to get all of her money back.
CULPRIT: Michael Cosmi, a 29-year-old man from Wayne, New Jersey
GRAND SCHEME: From December 2005 to February ‘06, Cosmi would routinely wander around New York City’s JFK Airport while speaking loudly into his cell phone: “Yes, yes, I’ve been robbed! And my patient doesn’t have much time!” When a concerned citizen showed interest, Cosmi introduced himself as “Dr. Michael Harris” or “Dr. Michael Stanley” and explained that he desperately needed cab fare to get to Brigantine Hospital in New Jersey to perform emergency surgery. “I promise I’ll pay you back,” he’d say. “It’s a matter of life and death!” In all, Cosmi conned ten people out of more than $800, including a flight attendant; a rabbi; a cop’s widow; and an off-duty NYPD captain named Bill Tobin, who gave the scam artist $100.
EXPOSED! A week after he’d been unknowingly conned at the airport, Tobin was riding on the LIRR (Long Island Railroad) and heard Cosmi giving the same spiel to an elderly woman. “I wasn’t carrying my gun, which was probably good, because I wanted to stick it in his ear,” said Tobin, who arrested Cosmi for fraud.
OUTCOME: Authorities were able to track down Cosmi’s other victims (he still had all of their names and addresses in his notebook because he’d promised to pay them back). It was later revealed that Cosmi is the son of a New Jersey prosecutor...and that there is no “Brigantine Hospital” in New Jersey or anywhere else. Cosmi was ordered to pay $2,165 in restitution and undergo drug counseling to avoid a jail term.
First FBI agent killed in the line of duty: Edwin Shanahan (1925).
THE GANG’S LAST STAND
When the James-Younger gang rode into Northfield, Minnesota, on September 7, 1876, their plan was to rob a bank. The townspeople, however, had other ideas, and the band of burgling brothers was never the same.
BROTHERS IN ARMS
After the Civil War ended in 1865, Confederate guerrilla fighters Jesse and Frank James were in a bind: They couldn’t surrender for fear of being shot by the conquering Union army, and they certainly didn’t want to ally themselves with their former enemies. Figuring there was safety in numbers, the James brothers teamed up with another group of brothers that had sided with the South during the war: the Youngers, specifically Cole, Bob, and Jim. The James and Younger brothers (and a few other outlaws) formed the James-Younger gang. They made it their mission to strike back at the Northern victors.
For the next 10 years, the James-Younger gang went on a violent crime spree throughout the reunified United States. They robbed banks, stores, stagecoaches, and individuals and even committed murder. In 1873 they pulled off their first train robbery, killing the engineer and stealing $3,000 from the passengers. These dastardly deeds quickly earned the James-Younger gang a reputation as the most notorious—and wanted—criminals of their time.
GO NORTH, YOUNG MEN
In 1876 Bill Stiles, a gang member from Minnesota, suggested that his home state would be an easy target for a bank robbery. Stiles boasted that the banks there were full of money and that the locals (mostly farmers) would be poor shots and unable to defend themselves.
The gang posed as railroad surveyors and cased varous Minnesota cities, including Red Wing, St. Paul, and Mankato, before deciding on the First National Bank of Northfield. It seemed like a good choice; the bank was rumored to hold a lot of Union money, and the former Confederates were always looking for ways to get back at their old enemies. Given the relatively small size of the town and the experience of the gang, the men looked forward to a quick and profitable job.
Last NASCAR driver to serve jail time for running moonshine: Junior Johnson, in 1956.
THE JOB
On the afternoon of September 7, 1876, eight gang members rode into Northfield wearing long coats that concealed their weapons. Frank James, Bob Younger, and Charlie Pitts entered the bank around two o’clock in the afternoon. Cole Younger and Clell Miller stood guard at the front door, while Jesse James, Jim Younger, and Bill Stiles protected the planned escape route.
Inside the bank, one of the robbers (possibly Frank James, though no one is certain) ordered cashier Joseph Lee Heywood to open the safe. Heywood refused. Things heated up when merchant J. S. Allen walked by the bank and noticed the commotion. He tried to get past Miller at the front door but couldn’t; Miller shoved him away. Allen then ran off yelling, “The bank is being robbed! The bank is being robbed!” That’s when Miller and Cole Younger started shooting at him.
NOT IN OUR TOWN!
The unexpected gunfire outside startled the robbers and the hostages inside the bank. Mayhem broke out. During the battle, bank clerk A. E. Bunker made a mad dash out the back door, but not before taking a bullet in his shoulder. Then Frank James shot and killed Heywood, who went down still refusing to open the safe.
Meanwhile, several Northfield citizens had armed themselves and taken up strategic positions around the town. As the outlaws tried to get away, they were met by a barrage of bullets from the townsfolk. Clell Miller and Bill Stiles fell dead in the street. Frank James was shot in the leg; Jesse James rode by on a horse, grabbed his brother’s arm, and pulled him along. The Younger brothers and Pitts also took some bullets. A local named Nicolas Gustafson was caught in the crossfire and fatally shot. When the smoke cleared, two gang members and two townies were dead.
LIVING ON THE LAM
The wounded outlaws headed for the woods to regroup. For the next week, the gang members sneaked through several tiny Minnesota towns. But they were lost; they couldn’t find their way around without their guide, Bill Stiles. As the days went by, the gang—slowed by their injuries—grew increasingly tired and hungry. It got so bad that their exhausted horses had to be abandoned. All the while, posses of angry Minnesotans—regular folk and lawmen alike—were hunting them down. As a last resort, the members of the James-Younger gang decided to split up. The James bothers stole two horses from a farm and headed for Dakota Territory, while Charlie Pitts and the wounded Younger brothers went west, eventually hiding near Madelia, Minnesota.
Sing Sing was the first prison to use fingerprinting for identification purposes, in 1903.
Time was running out for the Youngers and Pitts. The posses were hot on their trail, and just outside Madelia, bareley 50 miles from Northfield, the search party closed in on them. Shots rang out. Pitts was killed. The Youngers thought better of trying to run again, and surrendered. The Youngers were each arrested and tried on four counts, including murder, attempted murder, and robbery. To avoid execution, the brothers pleaded guilty to the crimes. (At the time, Minnesota law would not allow a death sentence for people who pleaded guilty.) All three Youngers were sentenced to life in prison.
THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES
But the James brothers escaped from Minnesota. They kidnapped a doctor to treat their wounds, released him, and then Jesse and Frank traveled to their home state of Missouri. There, they formed a new gang and continued on with their lives of crime. But there was a huge price on their heads, and they knew it. Lawmen all over the Midwest were looking for them. The governor of Missouri even offered a $10,000 reward for their capture. (Back then, that amount would set someone up for life.) In 1881 James was shot and killed by the youngest member of the gang, Bob Ford. Frank later turned himself in. He was tried but acquitted for his crimes.
NORTHFIELD’S LEGACY
Today, the
memory of the raid lives on in Minnesota. The First National Bank of Northfield has been restored as a museum, and each September the town’s citizens celebrate the “Defeat of Jesse James Day.” Festivities include a reenactment of the raid, a parade, and a graveside memorial service at the burial sites of J. L. Heywood and Nicolas Gustafson.
Final Irony: The bank job that marked the end of the James-Younger game only netted the boys $26.70.
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“A thief believes everybody steals.”—Edgar Watson Howe
The insanity defense was used in court as early as the 13th century.
HELLO, 911?
Here’s are some of our favorite emergency-call stories. Believe it or not, they’re all real.
NINE-ONE-YAWN
In August 2004, an unidentified person called 911 in Millersville, Maryland, and was asked the nature of their emergency. The caller explained the situation, and the dispatcher responded...by snoring. It was the middle of the night and the dispatcher had fallen asleep. For the next two minutes the caller tried to wake up the dispatcher but couldn’t. Police captain Kim Bowman told reporters that, luckily, the call wasn’t a dire emergency and nothing bad had come of it (but added that the department was implementing a program to teach employees how to stay awake during the night shift).
IT’S A LOVE EMERGENCY
In July 2006, a sheriff’s deputy in Aloha, Oregon, responded to a noise complaint at the home of Lorna Jeanne Dudash. He spoke with the woman for just a moment and then left. A short time later Ms. Dudash called 911—and asked if that “cutie-pie” officer could return. “He’s the cutest cop I’ve seen in a long time. I just want to know his name,” she said. The confused dispatcher asked again what her emergency was and Dudash responded, “Honey, I’m just going to be honest with you, I’m 45 years old and I’d just like to meet him again.” So the dispatcher sent the officer to Dudash’s home—and he promptly arrested her for abuse of the emergency-dispatch system. She faces several thousand dollars in fines and up to a year in prison.
GIMME A NINE...GIMME A ONE...
In 1999 a 911 dispatcher in Fayetteville, Arkansas, received a call, but there was nobody on the line—all she could hear was a football game in the background. She hung up and called the number back, but nobody answered. A short time later it happened again, and again there was nobody on the line. A few minutes later it happened again...and again...and again. Dispatchers were called 35 times before police finally traced the call...to a football fan who had his cell phone set to speed-dial 911. It was in his pocket and had been going off every time he stood up to cheer.
Half of all Americans—142 million people—tuned in to watch the O.J. Simpson verdict.
PIZZA ’N’ NUTS
In May 2005, 86-year-old Dorothy Densmore of Charlotte, North Carolina, called 911 and complained to the dispatcher that she had called a nearby pizza shop, and they had refused to deliver a pizza to her. The dispatcher advised Densmore that calling 911 for non-emergencies was a crime and hung up on her. Densmore called back, and kept calling back. She called more than 20 times. An officer was finally sent out to her home to arrest her...but not before being kicked, punched, and bitten on the hand by Densmore. (She had also complained to the dispatcher that someone in the pizza parlor had called her a “crazy old coot.”)
GAS LEAK
Officers in Janesville, Wisconsin, responded to a 911 call about a domestic disturbance after a husband and wife got into an argument. When they arrived at the couple’s home, the wife explained to the officers that the argument had started after the husband had “inappropriately passed gas” while they were tucking their son into bed. (The man was not charged with a crime.)
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DIAL “M” FOR MURDERER
“Murderers and Mafia mobsters have been employed by Italy’s state telephone company to run a call center from prison. Telecom Italia has opened a new directory assistance service inside the notorious Rebibbia prison, which is Rome’s largest jail, with 1,600 inmates. Twenty-six prisoners in the program work from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. and are paid the equivalent of 20 cents for every call they answer. ‘It is good because people do not know who we are, so we do not feel like we are in a ghetto anymore,’ said a man serving 13 years for murder. There are plans to open another call center at Poggioreale prison in Naples. Although inmates have access to a nationwide database of phone numbers, they are unable to dial out.”
—Sydney Morning Herald
Every year, more than 20,000 art thefts are reported in Italy.
YAKUZA!
It’s difficult for Westerners to understand the Yakuza, often referred to as the Japanese Mafia. We were confused ourselves, so we sent Uncle John on a covert mission to Tokyo to infiltrate the Yakuza. He returned with some great info...but he also had a lot of tattoos and only nine fingers. Now he’s kind of menacing.
YA-WHAT-A?
Did you see the movie Kill Bill? The “Crazy 88s” depicted in the film were a fearsome Japanese Yakuza gang...which were summarily dismembered by Uma Thurman’s character. In real life, Thurman wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Yakuza. With their full-body tattoos, expensive sunglasses, flashy black suits, and slicked-back hair, Yakuza gang members are highly trained outlaws—as organized as they are criminal. Taking a page from the Yakuza’s book, we’ve carefully organized this two-part article into tidy little sections.
ORIGIN
• Dating back to the 1600s, the “official” Yakuza history describes the crime syndicate’s ancestors as if they were “Robin Hoods,” descended from the machi-yokko (servants of the town) who protected villagers from out-of-control rogue samurai.
• Another theory: The original Yakuza were rogue samurai. Whether they began as heroes or villains, the Yakuza are proud to be outcasts—a fact reflected in their name: ya means 8, ku means 9, and sa means 3, which add up to 20—a losing hand in the card game hana-fuda (flower cards). The Yakuza are the “bad hands” or “losers” of society, an image they embrace.
STRUCTURE
• The Yakuza is not a single entity, but rather a collection of separate gangs, much like the Mafia, but with a much more intricate hierarchy. Within the crime syndicate are several powerful “families”; the most powerful is the Yamaguchi-Gumi family, with about 45,000 members. In all, there are 2,500 families and more than 110,000 Yakuza, making it the largest criminal organization in the world.
• Yakuza activity is not limited to Japan; they have a presence in other Asian countries, as well as in Europe, Mexico, and the United States. Hawaii has an especially large Yakuza presence (members cover their tattoos and pose as tourists). The Yakuza own casinos in Las Vegas, operate construction companies in Chicago and London, and produce movies in Hollywood and Hong Kong.
2008 newspaper study: 36% of recent Atlanta Police Academy graduates have a criminal record.
HIERARCHY
• Each family is made up of many smaller sub-gangs, or clans. At the head of each family is a kumicho, what Westerners might refer to as the “godfather.” There are several other subgroups of leadership, all the way to the oyabun, who are clan bosses. They each have a group of trusted men, who act as local bosses, and so on, down to the bottom rungs, the kobun (children).
• Once accepted, each kobun is assigned to an oyabun. The elder member instructs and watches over his apprentice, and is also responsible for his apprentice’s actions. This relationship is considered more sacred than that of father and son.
THE UPSIDE
• Acceptance by a community and free health care (not many criminal organizations have a dental plan). Those are great perks, but what really draws young men into the life are Japanese Yakuza movies—which thrived in the 1960s and ’70s. They glorified the outlaws and their fancy cars and black suits. The message is clear: To be Yakuza is to be a badass.
• The money can be quite good, too. Yakuza families earn around $60 billion annually, nearly 2 percent of Japan’s gross domestic product. But it c
an take a while for new recruits to start seeing big dividends. (In fact, they have to hand over all profits to their oyabuns.) However, recruits who show an aptitude for learning may receive a free education.
THE DOWNSIDE
• Beyond the obvious risks brought on by a life of crime, there are some other dangers involved, such as hepatitis. Japanese tattoo artists use a technique called tebori—attaching a small bundle of needles to a bamboo handle, which is dipped in ink and tapped into the skin by hand or with a small hammer. This method is notorious for spreading infections. In addition, the ink inhibits the sweating out of toxins. These issues, combined with heavy drinking, lead to a high incidence of liver disease among Yakuza members. (Tattoos are also very expensive, costing upward of $10,000, not to mention the years of painful pinpricks.)
Ancient Aztecs guilty of public drunkenness had their heads shaved and their homes destroyed.
• If an obun angers or embarrasses his oyabun, he is obligated to cut off the tip of his pinkie finger and present it to him gift-wrapped. A second offense requires the severing of the second joint of that finger, and so on. This punishment, called yubizume, comes from the traditional way of holding a Japanese sword—removing the pinkie and ring fingers progressively weakens a warrior’s grip. A family member knows that he must commit yubizume when his superior gives him a knife and a piece of string—the knife to cut off the finger, and the string to stop the bleeding. Of course, if a Yakuza really screws up, he is expected to commit suicide by way of seppuku—ritual disembowelment with a sword.
• Japan is a society of rigid social rules, and the Yakuza break many of them. Although at times the families have been beneficial to their communities, they remain outcasts. Because of this, tattoos and missing fingers are strictly taboo among Japanese citizens, and those who flaunt them are often shunned.
Uncle John’s True Crime Page 13