Donnie Brasco

by Joseph Pistone

  “I know that now,” she said. “But I had a good time with Sonny. I really liked him.”

  “So did I.”

  She was very sad, and she cried a little. “Donnie, I always knew that you weren’t cut out for that world because you carried yourself different, you had an air of intelligence, you know? I knew that you were much more than just a thief. You were a good friend to Sonny and me. Sonny didn’t have any ill feelings toward you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  She said he had told her about the agents coming to talk to him, and he didn’t believe what they told him—there was no way I could be an agent, because of the things we had done together, the conversations we’d had, the feelings we’d had. “You know what he said? He told me, ‘I really loved that kid.’ He was really broken up when he found out that you were an agent, but he said that wouldn’t change the way he felt because of the type of guy you were. You did your job and you did it right.”

  “I always liked Sonny,” I said. “That hasn’t changed with me, either.”

  “He told me he had this meeting in New Jersey. But that was all. Later I found out that just before he left for the meeting, he gave Charlie, the bartender, all his jewelry and the keys to his apartment and everything. The only thing he took with him were his car keys.”

  “He knew he wasn’t coming back,” I said.

  “Yeah. Am I going to have any problems, you think?”

  “No, I’m sure you won’t. Don’t worry about anything. Nobody’s going to bother you. Just get on with your life and stay away from those people.”

  At the end, she said she felt better, was resigned to the fact that Sonny wasn’t coming back, was glad for our talk.

  “Call me anytime,” I said.

  We figured Sonny, Lefty, and Tony Mirra were the most obvious targets for mob hits because of me. Mirra, because he was the first guy to bring me into Little Italy, the first Bonanno guy I hung around with, and also because they thought he was a snitch. Our information was that they thought that his fight for me at the sitdowns was all a ploy, that he and I were actually working together for the FBI to advance my infiltration into the mob. Lefty and Sonny were obvious targets because of my association with them.

  But the only definite contract we got word on was on Lefty. He was the only one we could protect from his own people. On August 30, a Sunday, agents snatched up Lefty just as he came out of his apartment building.

  Mirra didn’t get hit until March 1982. His body was found in a car in a parking lot at the corner of North Moore and West Streets, outside the building where Bonanno consiglieri Steve Cannone lived. Somebody had shot him four times in the head. He had $6,700 in his pocket.

  On August 2, 1982, I started testifying in Room 318 of the Southern District Federal Courthouse in the racketeering trial of U.S. vs. Dominick Napolitano, et al.

  On August 12, 1982, a badly decomposed body was found in a hospital body bag in a creek near South Avenue in the Mariner’s Harbor section of Staten Island. The body had been buried. Recent heavy rains had uncovered it and washed it up. The person had been shot. The hands had been chopped off—an indication of a Mafia hit and a special signal that the victim had violated mob security.

  On November 10, five days before Lefty, Nicky Santora, Mr. Fish Rabito, Boots Tomasulo and others were sentenced, the body was identified through dental records as being that of Sonny Black.

  I was sorry it was Sonny. I was glad it wasn’t me.

  EPILOGUE

  When I emerged from undercover in 1981, there was no celebration, no homecoming, no resumption of normal life with my family. In fact, because of the death threats and the contract out on me, there was more fear in my family when I came out than when I was under. I began work immediately on preparation for the many trials, and I have testified in those trials all these six years.

  Though I continue to testify when called upon, I resigned from the FBI in 1986, after seventeen years of service, to write this book. I am not in the federal Witness Protection Program. I and my family have moved our home once again to another part of the country. Except in matters relating to FBI activities or this book, I do not use the name Pistone. When I am with my family, I use the name they use. When I am traveling or engaged in anything other than testimony or family activities, I use any of several other names.

  At forty-eight, I will begin a new life under a new name. Except for close friends and some government officials, no one will know that I am the man who lived this life as Joe Pistone and Donnie Brasco.

  Looking back, would I do it again? Professionally, yes, there’s no doubt in my mind that I would do it. Personally, it’s a different matter. I missed ten years of a life with my family. I don’t know whether that loss is worth it. But I do know that if I was going to do the job, I had to do it the way I did it.

  Here follows a partial list of what happened to the major figures in this book:

  Baldassare “Baldo” Amato: Convicted, “Pizza Connection” Case, New York, awaiting sentence.

  Frank Balistrieri: Convicted, Milwaukee, 13 years; convicted, Kansas City, 10 years.

  John Balistrieri: Convicted, Milwaukee, 8 years.

  Joseph Balistrieri: Convicted, Milwaukee, 8 years.

  Caesar Bonventre: Murdered, 1984.

  Stefano “Stevie Beef” Cannone: Died, 1985.

  James “Fort Lee Jimmy” Capasso: Not charged in our cases.

  Bobby Capazzio: Missing, reports from informants that he was murdered.

  Paul “Big Paul” Castellano: Indicted, “Commission” Case, murdered, New York, 1985.

  Salvatore Catalano: Convicted, “Pizza Connection” Case, New York, 45 years.

  John “Boobie”Cerasani: Acquitted in New York, pled guilty in Tampa, 5 years.

  Jerry Chilli: Convicted, New York, fraudulent check charges, released 1987.

  Joe Chilli: Not charged in our cases.

  Anthony “Tony Ducks” Corallo: Convicted, “Commission” Case, New York, 100 years.

  Joey D‘Amico: Pled guilty, perjury, New York, 1987.

  Aniello Dellacroce:Died, 1985.

  Armond Dellacroce: Convicted, New York, failed to appear for sentencing, a fugitive.

  Steve DiSalvo: Convicted, Milwaukee, 8 years.

  Joseph Donahue: Indicted, Florida, committed suicide, 1983.

  Sally “Paintglass” D‘Ottavio: Indicted, New York, 1987.

  Al“Al Walker” Embarrato:Not charged in our cases.

  James “Jimmy Legs” Episcopia: Convicted, New York, 1983, 5 years.

  Carmine Galante: Murdered, New York, 1979.

  Salvatore “Sally Fruits” Farrugia:Not charged in our cases.

  Philip“Philly Lucky” Giaccone: Murdered, New York, 1981.

  Jilly Greca: Murdered, Brooklyn, 1980.

  Benny Husick: Pled guilty, Tampa, 3 years.

  Alphonse “Sonny Red”Indelicato: Murdered, New York, 1981.

  Anthony Bruno Indelicato: Convicted, “Commission” Case, New York, 45 years.

  Gennaro “Jerry Lang” Langella: Convicted, “Commission” Case, New York, 100 years.

  Joseph Massino: Convicted, New York, 10 years.

  Nicholas Marangello: Convicted, New York, 10 years.

  Steve Maruca: Served several jail terms, not charged in our cases.

  Anthony Mirra: Murdered, New York, 1982.

  Dominick “Sonny Black” Napolitano: Murdered, New York, 1981.

  Charles “Charlie Moose” Panarella: Sentenced to various jail terms in last ten years, on parole.

  Alphonse “Allie Boy” Persico: Convicted, New York, 12 years.

  Carmine “The Snake” Persico: Convicted, “Commission” Case, New York, 100 years.

  Joe Puma: Died, 1985.

  Anthony “Mr. Fish” Rabito: Convicted, New York, 8 years.

  Philip “Rusty” Rastelli: Convicted, New York, 12 years.

  Benjamin “LeftyGuns” Ruggiero: Convicted Milwaukee, Tampa, New York, 20 years.
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  MichaelSabella: Acquitted, Milwaukee.

  Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno: Convicted, “Commission” Case, New York, 100 years.

  Nicholas Santora: Convicted, New York, 20 years.

  Tommy Spano: murdered, 1984.

  Antonio “Boots” Tomasulo: Convicted, New York, conviction overturned on appeal.

  SantoTrafficante: Indicted, Florida, died 1987.

  Dominick “Big Trin”Trinchera: Murdered, New York, 1981.

  Mickey Zaffarano: Died, 1980.

  UPDATE

  July 1988

  by Joseph D. Pistone

  Since my book came out in hardcover, Peggy and I have been interviewed by Time, People, 20/20, and Good Morning America. I appeared on shows hosted by Larry King, Geraldo Rivera, and others.

  More than anything else, those journalists, studio audiences, and people who phoned in, wanted to know more about how my investigation affected the Mafia, how those years undercover affected the Pistone family, and whether I would do it all again.

  As a result of my investigation, the Mafia has changed some of its rules for membership. The mob has since reinstituted an old rule, that a proposed member must “make his bones” or kill someone, before he can become a made guy. They have done so because no agent would commit murder while posing as a bad guy.

  Plus, two Mafiosi have to vouch for a proposed member. So now two wiseguys have to take the responsibility instead of just one. They have to say they have known the proposed member if not since childhood, then at least for fifteen to twenty years.

  Meanwhile, increased pressure from enforcement, particularly from the FBI, has led many top-echelon mob members to become informants, more than at any other time in the history of the Mafia.

  Of course, those defections and the more than 100 federal convictions we obtained have caused a leadership problem for the Mafia. With so many top guys out of action, there is a prevailing sense of mistrust and wariness in each family and in relations across family lines. I’m happy to say that the leadership problem is here to stay.

  The Mafia’s values are shifting. I helped speed up that process.

  The oldtimers—who brought the values of the old country with them, who believed that whatever you did, you did it for the crew and, all the way up the line, ultimately for the organization—are dying off or are stuck in jail.

  There, they are lamenting the fact that La Cosa Nostra—“Our Thing”—is becoming “My Thing” in the hands of the younger generation.

  The new Mafia is made up mostly of guys born in this country, who are into easy living. They do not possess the same strong attachment to kinship and “family” honor that the old wiseguys did. This Ameri canization of the Mafia—coupled with law enforcement’s concerted onslaught of indictments and investigations—is eroding the mob’s power.

  But there is another thing that is weakening the Mafia: as in the larger society, the Mafia subculture is facing the problem of drug abuse.

  The Mafia has trafficked in narcotics for decades. It’s true that only certain people in certain families get involved in large-scale importation and distribution, but everyone tries to traffic because of the profits to be made. However, very few of the older guys were users.

  Now, despite the longstanding, unwritten Mafia rule against using drugs, many of the younger members are addicted to drugs, particularly to cocaine.

  Picture this: if you use cocaine, chances are you will never see more than a gram or two at any one time in your life; if you do become addicted, chances are you’ll become a crook to support your habit, although probably not a very good one. Now imagine being an importer and distributor. You take control over kilos of the stuff. And you already make your livelihood as a crook. Chances are, as a Mafia coke addict, you’ll eventuallly try to screw somebody in a deal and get whacked. If you live long enough, you’ll make yourself crazy.

  That’s how it is. Members of the “Me Generation” Mafia are like kids in a coke candyshop.

  When I appeared on talk shows, it seemed 99 percent of the audience was very pro about what the FBI did, and some people even said I was an American hero. For me, it is hard to think of myself as a hero—it was just a job, and I did it.

  People wanted to know whether I felt I was on a mission to clean out the Mafia because I’m an Italian-American.

  I didn’t carry out the investigation on behalf of upstanding Italian-Americans. I wasn’t an ethnic policeman. Truly, it didn’t matter to me that it was the Mafia. I would have accepted any undercover assignment against any group the FBI targeted.

  I am proud about how it turned out, however.

  Italian-Americans have told me they are proud that I had the courage to do it and that I showed the nation that not all Italians side with the Mafia.

  Some people even said they never realized the Mafia was not invincible. A lot of people thought the Mafia was an organization law enforcement couldn’t do anything with. They were glad that our government got involved. It makes people feel good to know the myth of the Mafia has been broken.

  Now we know the Mafia is not invincible.

  It’s also clear that the Mafia preys on Italians as well as other people.

  At the very least, I think I helped destroy some fantasies. Unlike the images we got in movies like The Godfather, the Mafia in real life is repetitious. Conversations are mind-numbing. “What are we gonna steal today? How are we gonna steal it?”

  On the other hand, some people asked, “How could you have done it to other Italians?”

  I don’t feel that way. I busted a group of people involved in illegal activities.

  Not viewing the probe from an ethnic point of view was important for keeping a proper perspective. Another reason the investigation was successful was that I knew, no matter what I did, that I was not going to reform anybody in or around the Mafia, that the people I was getting close to were going to lie, steal, cheat, and murder whether I was there or not. My goal was to gather evidence for later prosecutions. I was not a social worker.

  Some people also questioned the FBI’s decision to give money to Lefty during the operation. Lefty was given about $40,000 by undercover agents Conti and Rossi because they were supposed to be “marks.” They were paying him for his services as a “wiseguy” to insure they had the protection of the Bonanno family in the event another family tried to interfere with their business.

  It was a good investment for a number of reasons. By giving him money, Conti and Rossi led Lefty to believe they were willing to become involved with him, and he trusted them as bad guys.

  It helped the Bureau obtain valuable intelligence on all the mob families; we even became “partners” with three families in New York, Milwaukee, and Tampa. That information became evidence in court.

  By giving Lefty money now and then, we saved many hours, perhaps years, of normal investigative work—work that wouldn’t have necessarily led to evidence for indictments,

  Six years in the Mafia didn’t change my values, and if you ask my family, that’s one reason the investigation was an unqualified success.

  The time undercover barely changed me on the surface, either. I haven’t had any problem dropping any of the habits or mannerisms I adopted during the course of the investigation.

  I have retained some of the wiseguy attitude, however.

  Wiseguys don’t make reservations. They just waltz into a restaurant and give a name. Invariably, the maître d’ says, “I’m sorry, we don’t have a reservation in that name.” And the wiseguy says, menacingly, “Whaddya mean, you don’t have one?” And he gets a table right away.

  I’ve done that a couple of time as a “citizen.” Out of the corner of my eye I’ll see Peggy shaking her head ... but it works.

  Most people back down from a confrontation in public, but in the wiseguy world, you don’t back down. Not from waiters or salesmen or anybody. Instead of saying “forget about it” to yourself, you take the offensive right away. It’s not bullying, at least in a p
hysical sense.

  But my brother will see me act this way, and he’ll say, “Joe, you’re not out with the wiseguys.” My answer is,“Why should you be intimidated by somebody when you know you’re right?”

  Of all the mobsters I worked against, I’ve been asked the most questions about Lefty Guns Ruggiero.

  Do I expect Lefty to try to kill me when he gets out of prison? He’s eligible for parole in 1992.

  I expect it. I also know the Mafia will try to kill him, since he took me in as an associate.

  Here’s a guy who is definitely of the old school. Lefty knows what he did was wrong, he knows a Mafia contract was put out on him, yet he has not turned stoolie. He has more resilience than most of the younger guys. Honor is so ingrained in him that it’s more important than the strong possibility that he might get killed by his own peers. Lefty had steadfastly refused to cooperate with the government and join the federal witness protection program to reduce his sentence.

  It’s ironic, of course, that the Bureau arrested Lefty in the first place to protect him, and that they have continued that protection during his trials and imprisonment, yet he has sworn to kill me—and that I am not eligible for federal protection. But that’s the way it is. I have to depend on myself.

  If Lefty survives long enough after his release to come after me ... I can’t worry about it. Whether he does it out of revenge, or if some other mobster tries to kill me to collect the $500,000 contract on my life, I’ll be prepared. I carry a .38-caliber pistol at all times, and may the best man win.

  I’m better than anyone I’ve ever met in or around the Mafia. I’ve got to feel that way. I’m one of the good guys—I didn’t do anything wrong. I just did my job.

  I take the normal precautions and live each day and try not to think about that contract.

  I said try. I think about it sometimes. But I don’t have nightmares about it.