by Lamothe, Lee
The case would unfold as the most successful investigation into the Sicilian Mafia in Canada, but it began humbly, with a comment caught on a wiretapped telephone in 1995, made by Enio Mora, a long-time gangster in Toronto. Mora, who was nicknamed “Pegleg” because he had lost part of one leg in a shootout, was heard discussing an upcoming wedding. Toronto police intelligence officers Bill Sciammarella and Tony Saldutto discovered the date, time and location of the wedding and the detectives and other officers with the Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit (CFSEU) watched guests arrive for the celebration at Toronto’s Sutton Place Hotel. The Sixth Family was well represented: Vito himself came, wearing a gray suit jacket; Rocco Sollecito, Francesco Arcadi and Frank Campoli were also there. Between the April 1995 wedding and the 1998 arrests of the Caruana brothers and associates, Canadian police ran Project Omertà, spending an estimated $8.8 million to capture the mobsters.
Concern among the Sixth Family at the news of the arrests was palpable; there had been a high degree of interaction between Alfonso Caruana and Vito and other family members and associates. Extensive records filed in court as part of Project Omertà revealed calls to pizzerias tied to drug traffickers involved with the Rizzutos, cafés that doubled as meeting places for the Sixth Family, lawyers linked to the family and car dealerships suspected of shipping cocaine into Ontario stashed in vehicles. In one call, Nick Rizzuto was heard talking to one of the Caruana brothers, telling him to bring two traffickers to a meeting. In another, police heard drug traffickers talking about “the old man.” According to a police summary of the conversation: “The ‘old man’ was identified through surveillance as Nicolò Rizzuto … [the traffickers say] not to speak to him because he talks too much and to go and speak to his son, believed to be Vito Rizzuto.” Surveillance teams following Project Omertà suspects from Toronto to Montreal took several photographs of Nick attending meetings. In all, more than a dozen members of the Sixth Family were observed interacting with the Project Omertà targets. Some were sent into the United States to transfer money or drugs—although no leading figures, including Caruana, Nick and Vito, felt comfortable crossing the border into America.
The obvious relationship between the Rizzutos and the Caruanas, coupled with their longstanding alliance, prompted one of Canada’s leading organized crime investigators to suggest they were two parts of the same operation. “I’ve long wondered how separate they really are,” he said, illustrating his point by weaving the fingers on both of his hands together.
Although Project Omertà uncovered extensive interplay between the Sixth Family and the Caruana drug network, and despite the overt accusations made against Vito by Oreste Pagano to police, once again no charges were laid.
TORONTO, SUMMER 2000
Problems for the Sixth Family in Ontario did not stem only from aggressive law enforcement. The century-old traditions of the Mafia also conspired to damage its new assets, namely Gaetano Panepinto, its hulking enforcer who was moving cocaine and discount coffins in Toronto. Panepinto was pleased with his lot in life as Vito expanded his presence and power in Toronto. As an early adopter of the Rizzuto brand, he was using his association to its full extent and the aggrandizing feeling of power it endowed seemed to cause him to forget that he was not truly a member of its inner circle. In the underworld, such oversight is often tragic.
Like any active gangster, Panepinto disliked competition, which is why he was incensed when two newly arrived Calabrian mafiosi started to cut into his action. The two men were ’Ndranghetisti who had fled police in their hometown of Siderno, on southern Italy’s Ionian coast. Toronto was a good place for such men to hide, as a significant number of mafiosi from Siderno had, for generations, settled in and around the city, establishing what an Italian judge recently called the most important “colony” of the Sidernese ’Ndrangheta. When these two fugitives, who were believed to be cousins, left Italy, Toronto ’Ndrangheta leaders were told to expect them. The fugitives were welcomed, given permission to work in the city and, in accordance with their underworld code, came under the protection of the Toronto colony.
These two fugitives immediately looked around for ways to make money and found it by placing illegal slot machines. It was of little concern to them that their fledgling gambling business was in direct competition with a similar enterprise run by Panepinto. Vito’s man immediately complained that the Calabrian newcomers were squeezing him. As a major earner, supporter and contributor to the Sixth Family’s cause, Panepinto felt he could deal directly with the Sidernese.
“Remember, Guy was never made. He acted made—he had guys around him, a crew of his own just like a made guy, but he never won the jackpot,” a well-connected Toronto criminal said. Another man, who managed a gym Panepinto had a financial interest in, said Panepinto raised his complaints at a “sit-down” with a powerful organized crime figure north of Toronto.
“They told him there was nothing they could do,” the manager said. “They’d try to see that he got an end [a portion of the profits], but he basically could kiss his machines goodbye. The Siderno guys were the real thing and Panepinto wasn’t; he wasn’t made. In spite of everything, he was a link between the Rizzutos who brought in the drugs and the bikers and guys who distributed them. He might have got made eventually, but who knows? I’m told he went to Montreal; he went to Vancouver to discuss the situation with some bikers out there, maybe to get some muscle to bring east. But he got nothing. Montreal didn’t care about his machines or his grabs [truck hijackings]; they just wanted to move their drugs through him.”
The Sidernese likely tolerated Panepinto’s audacity in bringing the matter directly to them, despite his inferior underworld standing, because of his link to the Sixth Family, but that could carry him only so far.
Frustrated in his failed efforts at repelling the fugitives, Panepinto took a chance. He lured the two men to the basement of his St. Clair Avenue West casket business, where, with at least one other shooter, he gunned them down, police believe. The bodies were removed and have never been found. A fire was deliberately set to destroy evidence of the slayings. Panepinto then went about his business.
It did not take long for the lack of contact from the Sidernese fugitives to cause alarm among the ’Ndrangheta families, who then investigated the disappearances. The signs quickly pointed to Panepinto. The Sixth Family leadership was apprised of their concerns, according to police investigators. It was a serious problem because, within the Mafia, a made man is accorded protection under an underworld code that is surprisingly uniform on this point.
“When you join, it’s like getting a license,” a Toronto gangster said. “You get opportunities, you get protection and you get support. You get organization. No one can come and earn where you earn. You won’t find a card game opening on the same street; you won’t have a free-for-all when you’re moving dope, guys undercutting you. Whether it’s the Calabrese, the Sicilians, the American Mafia, you join so you can earn and you can earn safely. When you’re made, you’re like a god.” It is what puts the organization in organized crime.
One of the Mafia’s most important rules is that made men cannot be killed without permission from higher-ups. It was a rule that caused much grief for the Sixth Family when it wanted to push Paolo Violi aside in the 1970s. For a non-made man, no matter how powerful or productive, to murder an initiated member of a family is a transgression that cuts through finance, connections and underworld stature. Panepinto felt his financial contributions made him immune from this basic foundation of the Mafia. For a terrified, fleeting moment, he might have realized how wrong he was. Also conspiring against Panepinto were the ingrained traditions of the men he had insulted. The ’Ndrangheta operates under a code of conduct that is rigid and unforgiving. This mindset embraces honor, manliness, personal power and the faida, “the vendetta.” Faida is an important part of ’Ndrangheta culture. It was inconceivable to the Sidernese that this slight could be left unanswered.
“Panepinto
took it upon himself to do these guys,” said a police officer involved in the investigation. “The people he killed belonged to other families. They probably approached Vito and said, ‘Why did you do that to our guys?’ Vito would say, ‘I didn’t do anything. I didn’t have anything to do with it. Handle it any way you wish. Do whatever you have to do to make amends.’” It was bad timing for Panepinto. If the traditional rules of the mob did not persuade Vito that he had to let Panepinto go, the efforts he was making to unify the mobsters in Ontario gave him a more pragmatic reason to step aside and not aggravate the influential Sidernese gangsters any further.
“Vito was trying to amalgamate the Italian families. Whatever it took, whatever had to be done to maintain the peace,” another officer said.
TORONTO, OCTOBER 3, 2000
Panepinto was only a few blocks from his home in an upscale west Toronto neighborhood when a van pulled up beside his burgundy Cadillac. From the van came a fusillade of gunfire. Panepinto suffered numerous bullet wounds and his car veered from the roadway and crashed to a stop, where his body was found slumped over the steering wheel by neighbors who had heard gunfire and screeching tires. In his car, police found blueprints for a nightclub in Barrie, a city north of Toronto, and a book about organized crime in Canada. Homicide detectives called it “a professional, organized hit” and immediately ran into a wall of silence from the victim’s friends and associates.
Mourners soon gathered at Panepinto’s house. Among the cars parked outside was a vehicle registered to Frank Campoli. If Toronto needed any reminder of the disparate underworld connections of Panepinto, it came seven days later at his funeral. The exhaust from 50 Harley-Davidson motorcycles rose from the street, as bikers, many of whom would soon trade in their own gang patches to become members of the Hells Angels, formed an honor guard for Panepinto’s hearse. Through the blue haze, police intelligence officers watched as Vito Rizzuto arrived at the church, walking in close quarters with five men who had traveled with him from Montreal, an entourage that included Paolo Renda, Francesco Arcadi and Rocco Sollecito—three of Vito’s top men.
“We expected some sort of turnout but this is beyond what we thought Panepinto rated,” an intelligence officer said. A biker at the funeral had little to say about the murder. “We’re here to show strength,” he said. “We’ll take him to rest and let things sort themselves out.” There seemed little to sort out. Panepinto’s blood erased the insult against the Siderno mobsters and the Sixth Family wrote off his loss as the cost of doing business in Ontario.
Such losses were mounting, however. In April 2001, RCMP Chief Superintendent Ben Soave, who headed the CFSEU, unveiled Project Oltre, a joint police operation targeting the Rizzutos’ large, new gambling network: 54 people were arrested in Toronto, Ottawa, Hamilton and Montreal, among them Joe Renda. Police said the ring took in $200 million in bets. Over 140 days, police could document $20 million placed on NFL, NHL, NBA and college sports games as well as horse racing. In keeping with Sixth Family tradition, dozens of low-level bookies pleaded guilty; large fines and asset forfeitures were accepted with little argument, including Joe Renda’s $50,000 Lincoln Navigator, in return for charges against the top players being dropped. Renda and some of his key associates in Toronto left court free men. With all of the attention and obvious police heat in Ontario, Renda moved back to Montreal.
To compensate for the setbacks, the Sixth Family sent a new hands-on representative to Toronto.
WOODBRIDGE, ONTARIO, OCTOBER 2001
Juan Ramon Fernandez is a muscular man with a strong jaw, black hair and dark eyes. His Spanish features sometimes draw comparisons to Antonio Banderas, the movie actor, but his actions spoke more to the movie character Tony Montana, the murderous drug lord in Brian DePalma’s film Scarface. People who have watched Fernandez operate say he acts and talks like the tough, maniacal Cuban character depicted by Al Pacino. As a Spaniard, Fernandez would not have been an inducted member of the Sixth Family, but as a trusted operative with a proven criminal aptitude, he was accepted as a loyal associate.
Born on Boxing Day in 1956, Fernandez emigrated to Canada from Spain with his family when he was five and settled in Montreal. As he grew, he built a strong street persona, gaining a reputation for being efficient with his fists. It was a calling card that helped him earn a position that, traditionally, is considered a stepping stone to greater things in the underworld; he became a driver for a leading mobster, in his case, Frank Cotroni. Fernandez fit in perfectly; he was polite to his betters, loyal to his friends and unyielding to his enemies. In 1979, when he was 21, Fernandez demanded that his girlfriend, a 17-year-old stripper, have sex with one of his associates. When she refused, he struck out, punching her hard in the throat. She later died in hospital. Fernandez was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to 12 years in prison. His prison file shows numerous complaints against him, including threatening other inmates. Ever the entrepreneur, Fernandez was a prominent drug dealer within the prison walls and sent associates around the prison to collect drug debts from fellow prisoners. He forced a prisoner to smuggle hashish into prison when he returned from an outside visit. Prison staff did not feel much safer; one female guard complained that Fernandez told her he knew her home address, and he told another employee: “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” A rumor persists that he also successfully seduced a smitten female prison guard inside his cell.
His ability to impose his will over a tough prison brought him to the attention of the Sixth Family. When released from prison, Fernandez was ordered deported by Canadian authorities, but he managed to fight the order for 12 years. By January 1990, he was selling Jaguar automobiles and working at a nightclub under the Sixth Family’s supervision. Eighteen months later, he was arrested again when police found him with $32,000 in cash and three kilograms of cocaine. He pleaded guilty to drug charges and was sentenced to 42 months in prison. While serving this sentence he was married in the prison chapel; he invited Vito and Sixth Family drug trafficker Raynald Desjardins to attend. Vito was denied admittance by prison officials. In 1999, Fernandez’s options in Canada expired and he was finally removed. Canadian authorities assumed they had seen the last of him, but not long after, he was found in a café in Woodbridge, Ontario, and deported a second time. He did not travel as far as authorities hoped. Fernandez moved to Florida, where he stayed at a Miami condominium that was linked to his then-lawyer, Carmine Iacono, before returning north on a false Canadian passport. By the summer of 2001, he had established himself on the streets around Toronto as an imposing figure named Joe Bravo.
“Bravo was closer to Vito than Panepinto,” an investigator said. “He was doing things for him directly. He was sent out to collect and to make sure that Vito gets his end. He was the eyes and ears for Vito and he reported back to him. He’d tell Vito: ‘These guys are doing good; these guys are doing nothing.’ And Vito would say: ‘It’d be nice if these guys gave us a piece of it,’ and then Bravo would go back and try to collect it for Vito. Bravo was doing Vito’s work directly. He didn’t really have any businesses here of his own. Plus, he was to keep peace with the bikers.” Bravo was often seen walking at Vito’s side, shorter than the boss but broader at the shoulders and thicker in the arms, and was often respectfully one step behind. As with other initiatives, this move by the Sixth Family in Ontario was set to stumble.
Now that the Quebec biker war was curtailed, police in Montreal were starting to turn their attention to the Sixth Family. A civilian agent, a former drug courier, had agreed to work with authorities in return for money and a judicial break. He was mingling with people associated with the Sixth Family. Using the informant as their linchpin, Montreal police and the RCMP launched a joint investigation, code-named Project Calamus. The prime target was Vito, with secondary objectives set at any high-level operative associated with the Sixth Family. There were plenty of leads to chase.
When the former drug courier told police that he met in Montreal with a
n alleged Colombian drug supplier named Abraham Nasser in 2001, the project took on another focus. Also at the meeting, the informant said, was José Guede, an old friend of the informant’s from a Spanish social club who was also a criminal defense lawyer working in the law firm of Loris Cavaliere, who was one of Vito’s lawyers. The law firm was of interest to police because it also employed two of Vito’s children, his younger son, Leonardo, and his only daughter, Bettina, who are both lawyers. Guede socialized on occasion with Vito, playing high-stakes poker games with him and others. Nasser, the Colombian contact, gave the informant his business card, which he signed on the back, and told him if he came to Bogotá to present the card at any of his restaurants and he could arrange to buy cocaine. The informant told police that when he mentioned this to Guede, the lawyer said to bring back as much as he wanted and he could move it through his contacts. The drugs, the informant said in court, were destined for Antonio Pietrantonio, a Montreal man with a previous drug conviction who earned his nickname “Tony Suzuki” because of his proprietorship of a large car dealership. Police have repeatedly documented Pietrantonio socializing with members of the Sixth Family and meeting with Vito, but he was not charged with any involvement in the informant’s drug scheme. This all came out in court after Guede was charged by police with conspiracy to import cocaine. A Quebec judge later ordered a stay of proceedings in the charges against Guede when it was found that an RCMP officer lied during his testimony in an attempt to bolster the credibility of the undercover informant. The informant also met with Fernandez, who was starting to shift his attention to Ontario but was still involved in affairs in Montreal. The two spoke of how best to smuggle the cocaine the informant was planning to bring from Colombia. They discussed registering an import company in Montreal and another in Venezuela to help mask the anticipated cocaine shipments.