by Dr031718 » Thu Dec 17, 2020 5:20 pm
Mikes Cite COVID And Seek Compassion; Ronnie G Knows Better
Ronald GiallanzoGang Land Exclusive!Remember Ronnie G and the Two Mikes? They're the trio of Howard Beach wiseguys who are forever linked by identical tattoos of two skulls and Morte Prima Di Disonore — the Italian words for Death Before Dishonor — inscribed on their backs. All three Bonanno mobsters are still behind bars for the almost two-decade long shakedown they ran on residents and business owners from their Queens neighborhood.
Ronald Giallanzo is quietly serving his over-the-top 14 year sentence in Butner, North Carolina, where conditions are apparently OK, at least concerning the coronavirus that is ravaging numerous other federal lockups around the country.
The Two Mikes, Michael Palmaccio and Michael Padavona, are not as lucky. Both say they've tested positive for the COVID-19 virus. And both are now citing the pandemic, combined with their own pre-existing ailments, as "extraordinary and compelling" reasons for compassionate release from their respective federal prisons, which have each been hit hard by the killer bug.
Death Before DishonorPalmaccio is doing his seven-year bid at the hard-hit prison complex in Terre Haute, Indiana. As of Tuesday, four inmates there have died, 309 inmates are positive for COVID, and another 409 have recovered, according to the Bureau of Prisons. Palamaccio tested positive on December 1, and has a long way to go behind bars. He is not slated for release until March 20, 2023.
Padavona has even longer. He is serving eight years at the Fort Dix prison compound in New Jersey, also hard hit by the virus. But officials there say the worst is over. The BOP lists just twelve inmates as currently positive, with 358 inmates classified as recovered. Padavona tested positive in October, and isn't due for release until January 20, 2024.
Federal prosecutors in Brooklyn haven't responded to Palmaccio's motion since he contracted the virus. But it's a virtual certainty that they will continue to argue against his release from Terre Haute, since they objected to an early release for Padavona even after he had tested positive for the coronavirus bug.
The prosecutors wrote last month that despite Padavona's pre-existing ailments, he was not suffering "serious complications of COVID-19," noting that he had "no shortness of breath, fatigue, sore throat, diarrhea, headache, loss of taste or smell, nausea or vomiting." And they argued that "even if he were," his "release would not be the appropriate remedy."
"Isolation" at Fort Dix was the solution, declared assistant U.S. attorneys Keith Edelman and Lindsay Gerdes.
"Ordering his release to the community would only serve to exacerbate the pandemic and place the community at risk," they wrote. "Therefore, the defendant — who is 52 years old and otherwise in good health — has failed to establish that 'extraordinary and compelling' circumstances warrant his release."
Michael PalmaccioThe prosecutors contend that Padavona, and 49-year-old Palmaccio, are proven dangers to the community who should be required to serve out their entire prison terms even if Judge Dora Irizarry does ultimately determine that the ongoing pandemic and their own ailments are "extraordinary and compelling" reasons.
"A defendant who meets all the criteria for compassionate release consideration," they wrote, "is not thereby automatically entitled to a sentence modification" but "simply eligible for a sentence modification" which should be denied in both cases because they are dangerous criminals who deserve to finish out their prison terms.
Both Bonanno mobsters had sought a compassionate release before they tested positive on the grounds that they suffered pre-existing ailments that made them more likely to contract the coronavirus. If it did occur, they asserted, the disease could be fatal. But that didn't cut any ice with the wardens of either facility. Like Giallanzo, they have been behind bars since they were hit with racketeering charges in March of 2017.
Michael PadavonaPalmaccio did "not have a terminal, incurable disease with a life expectancy of eighteen months or less, nor a disease or condition with an end of life trajectory," the Terre Haute warden stated. The Fort Dix warden wrote that Padvona's "chronic medical conditions are well-controlled with medication" and he was "able to carry out self-care without assistance and can fully function in a correctional environment."
Each mobster would be a danger to the community if released, the wardens wrote, findings that prosecutors Edelman and Gerdes have cited and supported in their court filings.
In their reply to Judge Irizarry, the prosecutors wrote that in addition to two skulls, Padavona also sports a fitting tattoo, the word, "MAYHEM," that extends beyond the normal gangster activities. They note that he once "paid" an underling with "a bottle of Vicodin" to "burn the car" belonging to a neighbor whose daughter "had a dispute with Padavona's daughter at school."
Palmaccio also has a fitting mobster tattoo, "SOLDIER," that cries out against compassion, they wrote. Worse, while extorting $50,000 in interest on a $10,000 loan from a single mom with a young child who was later forced to declare bankruptcy and move out of state, he called the woman "stupid" for asking him if his tattoo "referred to the military," they wrote.
The Two Mikes, say Edelman and Gerdes, should emulate Giallanzo, who has made no motions to seek any reduction in his sentence, and quietly serve out their full prison terms.
Patsy Follows The Kid's Lead And Plays The COVID Card
Pasquale ParrelloSeventy-six-year-old Genovese capo Pasquale (Patsy) Parrello and 28-year-old mob associate Anthony (The Kid) Comisa may be an odd couple but they're like two peas in a pod at the same federal prison compound at Fort Dix, New Jersey.
They received the two longest prison terms of the 45 gangsters from five crime families who were hit with racketeering charges four years ago in the huge case that grew out of the FBI sting operation that focused on Parrello's famed Bronx eatery, Pasquale's Rigoletto. And they are the only defendants still behind bars..
This week, Parrello followed Camisa's lead.
Citing the First Step Act, Patsy argued in legal papers that the coronavirus pandemic, which has ravaged the federal prison system, including their Garden State complex in recent months, provides "extraordinary and compelling" reasons that justify a compassionate release from the rest of his seven year sentence that is slated to end on July 22, 2022.
Pasquale's RigolettoWhile Camisa, as Gang Land noted two weeks ago, has served about 80% of his 66 month prison term and is technically eligible for relief under the 2018 Act, his chance of an early release is minimal. He's young, healthy, hasn't been bitten by the COVID bug, and Manhattan Federal Judge Richard Sullivan has stated that he would have given The Kid more time if he had known the extent of his criminal activity when he imposed sentence.
Judge Sullivan is not a fan of Parrello either. At his sentencing, he ripped Parrello as a longtime mobster who didn't learn his lesson after a long stretch behind bars for a 2003 conviction. But the aging mobster has a myriad of confirmed medical ailments that better his chances for release, according to prison medical records cited in his motion for compassionate release by attorneys Mark DeMarco and Kevin Faga.
Parrello has also been "a model inmate" with "no disciplinary infractions" during this prison term, the lawyers wrote. "Parrello's experience over the past nine months" at Fort Dix "serves as a powerful deterrent" that will keep him on the straight and narrow in the future, they stated.
And even though his warden denied his compassionate release request in October, the attorneys wrote that Parrello's prison records state that he has numerous ailments, including prostate cancer, hypertension, and "chronic pain in the lower back and right knee" that limits his "ability to function in a correctional facility.
Anthony CamisaAccording to the attorneys, the medical department at Fort Dix has found that Parrello, given the soaring infections and his advanced age, "may be at a higher risk for severe COVID-19." All those factors, the lawyers assert, provide "extraordinary and compelling" reasons to grant him a compassionate release.
The medical department's assessment proved to be all too accurate: On October 27, Parrello tested positive for COVID-19. His symptoms included "shortness of breath, headaches, body aches, no sense of taste or smell," DeMarco and Faga wrote. Yet their client received no treatment, the attorneys wrote.
Nor could be treat himself, they stated. "He was never quarantined or moved to a segregated medical unit," they wrote, but simply "moved to another building, along with the other inmates who tested negative." A few days later, they said, he was back in general population.
Judge Richard SullivanParrello's bout with the virus could still lead to "long term health complications," they added.
"Researchers in pathology and pulmonary medicine expect the pandemic to lead to increased numbers of patients with permanent scarring in their lungs," the attorneys wrote. This "can result in irreversible functional limitations such as shortness of breath, which Mr. Parrello already experiences in addition to continued head and body aches," they wrote.
The lawyers asked Judge Sullivan to "order the same relief" as other judges in the city's two federal courts who have "ordered the compassionate release of inmates post-infection."
"Even if a person infected with the virus survives," they wrote, "the experience is traumatizing. The experience is consistently described by survivors as terrifying."
Sullivan gave the government, which is likely to object to an early release for Parrello, two weeks to respond to his motion. The judge has yet to decide Camisa's compassionate release motion, which was fully briefed last month.
Sammy Bull, The Podcast: 35 Years After John Gotti's Greatest Hit, Gravano Is On The Air
Salvatore GravanoThirty-five years ago this week, as midtown Manhattan swarmed with Christmas shoppers, John Gotti and Salvatore (Sammy Bull) Gravano orchestrated the dramatic assassination of Mafia boss Paul Castellano. Yesterday, on the anniversary of that epic mob hit, Gravano unveiled his new podcast in which he talks about his life as a murderous mob underboss and his decision to become a government informant.
The podcast is called Our Thing — as in Cosa Nostra — and while Gravano chose an auspicious date for his launch, he actually says little about the spectacular killing in front of Sparks Steak House by Gotti and his gang of ten during a 43-minute long audio.
Instead, the tape begins with the events a few years later that led up to the FBI's arrest at the Ravenite Social Club on December 11, 1990 of Gravano, Gotti and the still incarcerated Frank (Fankie Loc) Locascio on racketeering and murder charges.
Gravano & The BullSammy Bull details his love-hate relationship with Gotti, and how it led to his decision to turn his back on the mob and cooperate — and how it changed his life forever. He also confesses how his decision to become a turncoat "rat" ruined his relationship with his daughter Karen for a long time. On the podcast, Karen says, "I felt like he stabbed me in the heart."
Gravano described his horror at seeing the retaliation bombing murder of Gotti's first underboss, Frank DeCicco, a close Gravano-pal, a few months after the Castellano rubout. The Bull stated for the first time that he and Gotti had determined that Genovese boss Vincent (Chin) Gigante was behind it, and had planned to kill him. Gotti later called it off, he said.
DeCicco was murdered on April 13, 1986, across the street from a Sunday meeting at the Veterans and Friends Social Club in Bensonhurst where a full house of wiseguys had gathered. During the meeting, DeCicco went out to his car to look for a lawyer's business card that a fellow wiseguy had asked him for, Gravano says.
"I said, 'Frank, you want me to get it?' He said, 'No I'll get it.' So he walked across the street," Gravano continued. "He opened the door of the car on the passenger side and he sat in the car sideways," to look for the card in the glove box, he said. "There was this huge explosion," he said. "It rocked the whole neighborhood. Windows broke."
The Bomb CarGravano ran across the street and tried to "grab him and pull him away from the car," he said, but couldn't. "There was no part of his body left," he said. "It was sickening how I saw him. Not like he was shot. Not like things we were used to. He was completely blown away."
It took a few years for Gotti and Gravano to decide definitively that the bloody hit had been the work of Gigante, the feared Genovese chieftain, mainly because Gigante was "the only one who had the connections (and) the balls to do this," says Gravano. In 1990, at a "private meeting," Sammy Bull says in the podcast, the Dapper Don ordered Sammy to kill Gigante.
"It was music to my ears," says Gravano. "I grew up with Frank. We were extremely close." Sammy Bull says he kept the plan "very low key" as he "designed" a rubout plot. It called for him to "kill Chin and whoever the fuck he was with" as he came out of the Triangle Social Club on Sullivan Street in Greenwich Village.
His plan, he boasts, "was enormous . . . bigger than the Castellano hit" which was an "internal" rubout plot by the Gambino family. "This was killing the boss of another family," says Gravano, a move that was as big as it gets in Gang Land.
Sometime later, however, Gravano reports, "John called me in and he told me, 'The hit's off. Put it on the side.'" Gravano was frustrated, he says as he never got the opportunity to avenge the murder of DeCicco, whose casket he had knelt beside while vowing to kill "everyone" who had anything to do with his death.
Anthony CassoGigante died in prison in 2005. Justice was a bit slower for a Gigante cohort in the killing, but on Tuesday, Luchese underboss Anthony (Gaspipe) Casso also died behind bars while serving a life sentence for murder
According to Sammy Bull's account, Gotti's decision to call off the hit came shortly before federal prosecutors in Brooklyn filed their racketeering indictment against the Gambino family administration. A few days later, a team of FBI agents, including several who are heard describing the investigation and the cat and mouse game between the FBI and Gotti, arrested them on racketeering and murder charges that put Gotti and Locascio behind bars for the rest of their lives.
That was a fate Sammy Bull escaped because he decided to cooperate eleven months later, in November of 1991.
The podcast — which has been in the works for more than a year — is still a work in progress. At this point, it includes no pictures or videos, only the one 43-minute audio that's available on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. It will be interesting to see what advertisers, if any, sign on. Gang Land is considering it, depending on the rates.
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Mikes Cite COVID And Seek Compassion; Ronnie G Knows Better
Ronald GiallanzoGang Land Exclusive!Remember Ronnie G and the Two Mikes? They're the trio of Howard Beach wiseguys who are forever linked by identical tattoos of two skulls and Morte Prima Di Disonore — the Italian words for Death Before Dishonor — inscribed on their backs. All three Bonanno mobsters are still behind bars for the almost two-decade long shakedown they ran on residents and business owners from their Queens neighborhood.
Ronald Giallanzo is quietly serving his over-the-top 14 year sentence in Butner, North Carolina, where conditions are apparently OK, at least concerning the coronavirus that is ravaging numerous other federal lockups around the country.
The Two Mikes, Michael Palmaccio and Michael Padavona, are not as lucky. Both say they've tested positive for the COVID-19 virus. And both are now citing the pandemic, combined with their own pre-existing ailments, as "extraordinary and compelling" reasons for compassionate release from their respective federal prisons, which have each been hit hard by the killer bug.
Death Before DishonorPalmaccio is doing his seven-year bid at the hard-hit prison complex in Terre Haute, Indiana. As of Tuesday, four inmates there have died, 309 inmates are positive for COVID, and another 409 have recovered, according to the Bureau of Prisons. Palamaccio tested positive on December 1, and has a long way to go behind bars. He is not slated for release until March 20, 2023.
Padavona has even longer. He is serving eight years at the Fort Dix prison compound in New Jersey, also hard hit by the virus. But officials there say the worst is over. The BOP lists just twelve inmates as currently positive, with 358 inmates classified as recovered. Padavona tested positive in October, and isn't due for release until January 20, 2024.
Federal prosecutors in Brooklyn haven't responded to Palmaccio's motion since he contracted the virus. But it's a virtual certainty that they will continue to argue against his release from Terre Haute, since they objected to an early release for Padavona even after he had tested positive for the coronavirus bug.
The prosecutors wrote last month that despite Padavona's pre-existing ailments, he was not suffering "serious complications of COVID-19," noting that he had "no shortness of breath, fatigue, sore throat, diarrhea, headache, loss of taste or smell, nausea or vomiting." And they argued that "even if he were," his "release would not be the appropriate remedy."
"Isolation" at Fort Dix was the solution, declared assistant U.S. attorneys Keith Edelman and Lindsay Gerdes.
"Ordering his release to the community would only serve to exacerbate the pandemic and place the community at risk," they wrote. "Therefore, the defendant — who is 52 years old and otherwise in good health — has failed to establish that 'extraordinary and compelling' circumstances warrant his release."
Michael PalmaccioThe prosecutors contend that Padavona, and 49-year-old Palmaccio, are proven dangers to the community who should be required to serve out their entire prison terms even if Judge Dora Irizarry does ultimately determine that the ongoing pandemic and their own ailments are "extraordinary and compelling" reasons.
"A defendant who meets all the criteria for compassionate release consideration," they wrote, "is not thereby automatically entitled to a sentence modification" but "simply eligible for a sentence modification" which should be denied in both cases because they are dangerous criminals who deserve to finish out their prison terms.
Both Bonanno mobsters had sought a compassionate release before they tested positive on the grounds that they suffered pre-existing ailments that made them more likely to contract the coronavirus. If it did occur, they asserted, the disease could be fatal. But that didn't cut any ice with the wardens of either facility. Like Giallanzo, they have been behind bars since they were hit with racketeering charges in March of 2017.
Michael PadavonaPalmaccio did "not have a terminal, incurable disease with a life expectancy of eighteen months or less, nor a disease or condition with an end of life trajectory," the Terre Haute warden stated. The Fort Dix warden wrote that Padvona's "chronic medical conditions are well-controlled with medication" and he was "able to carry out self-care without assistance and can fully function in a correctional environment."
Each mobster would be a danger to the community if released, the wardens wrote, findings that prosecutors Edelman and Gerdes have cited and supported in their court filings.
In their reply to Judge Irizarry, the prosecutors wrote that in addition to two skulls, Padavona also sports a fitting tattoo, the word, "MAYHEM," that extends beyond the normal gangster activities. They note that he once "paid" an underling with "a bottle of Vicodin" to "burn the car" belonging to a neighbor whose daughter "had a dispute with Padavona's daughter at school."
Palmaccio also has a fitting mobster tattoo, "SOLDIER," that cries out against compassion, they wrote. Worse, while extorting $50,000 in interest on a $10,000 loan from a single mom with a young child who was later forced to declare bankruptcy and move out of state, he called the woman "stupid" for asking him if his tattoo "referred to the military," they wrote.
The Two Mikes, say Edelman and Gerdes, should emulate Giallanzo, who has made no motions to seek any reduction in his sentence, and quietly serve out their full prison terms.
Patsy Follows The Kid's Lead And Plays The COVID Card
Pasquale ParrelloSeventy-six-year-old Genovese capo Pasquale (Patsy) Parrello and 28-year-old mob associate Anthony (The Kid) Comisa may be an odd couple but they're like two peas in a pod at the same federal prison compound at Fort Dix, New Jersey.
They received the two longest prison terms of the 45 gangsters from five crime families who were hit with racketeering charges four years ago in the huge case that grew out of the FBI sting operation that focused on Parrello's famed Bronx eatery, Pasquale's Rigoletto. And they are the only defendants still behind bars..
This week, Parrello followed Camisa's lead.
Citing the First Step Act, Patsy argued in legal papers that the coronavirus pandemic, which has ravaged the federal prison system, including their Garden State complex in recent months, provides "extraordinary and compelling" reasons that justify a compassionate release from the rest of his seven year sentence that is slated to end on July 22, 2022.
Pasquale's RigolettoWhile Camisa, as Gang Land noted two weeks ago, has served about 80% of his 66 month prison term and is technically eligible for relief under the 2018 Act, his chance of an early release is minimal. He's young, healthy, hasn't been bitten by the COVID bug, and Manhattan Federal Judge Richard Sullivan has stated that he would have given The Kid more time if he had known the extent of his criminal activity when he imposed sentence.
Judge Sullivan is not a fan of Parrello either. At his sentencing, he ripped Parrello as a longtime mobster who didn't learn his lesson after a long stretch behind bars for a 2003 conviction. But the aging mobster has a myriad of confirmed medical ailments that better his chances for release, according to prison medical records cited in his motion for compassionate release by attorneys Mark DeMarco and Kevin Faga.
Parrello has also been "a model inmate" with "no disciplinary infractions" during this prison term, the lawyers wrote. "Parrello's experience over the past nine months" at Fort Dix "serves as a powerful deterrent" that will keep him on the straight and narrow in the future, they stated.
And even though his warden denied his compassionate release request in October, the attorneys wrote that Parrello's prison records state that he has numerous ailments, including prostate cancer, hypertension, and "chronic pain in the lower back and right knee" that limits his "ability to function in a correctional facility.
Anthony CamisaAccording to the attorneys, the medical department at Fort Dix has found that Parrello, given the soaring infections and his advanced age, "may be at a higher risk for severe COVID-19." All those factors, the lawyers assert, provide "extraordinary and compelling" reasons to grant him a compassionate release.
The medical department's assessment proved to be all too accurate: On October 27, Parrello tested positive for COVID-19. His symptoms included "shortness of breath, headaches, body aches, no sense of taste or smell," DeMarco and Faga wrote. Yet their client received no treatment, the attorneys wrote.
Nor could be treat himself, they stated. "He was never quarantined or moved to a segregated medical unit," they wrote, but simply "moved to another building, along with the other inmates who tested negative." A few days later, they said, he was back in general population.
Judge Richard SullivanParrello's bout with the virus could still lead to "long term health complications," they added.
"Researchers in pathology and pulmonary medicine expect the pandemic to lead to increased numbers of patients with permanent scarring in their lungs," the attorneys wrote. This "can result in irreversible functional limitations such as shortness of breath, which Mr. Parrello already experiences in addition to continued head and body aches," they wrote.
The lawyers asked Judge Sullivan to "order the same relief" as other judges in the city's two federal courts who have "ordered the compassionate release of inmates post-infection."
"Even if a person infected with the virus survives," they wrote, "the experience is traumatizing. The experience is consistently described by survivors as terrifying."
Sullivan gave the government, which is likely to object to an early release for Parrello, two weeks to respond to his motion. The judge has yet to decide Camisa's compassionate release motion, which was fully briefed last month.
Sammy Bull, The Podcast: 35 Years After John Gotti's Greatest Hit, Gravano Is On The Air
Salvatore GravanoThirty-five years ago this week, as midtown Manhattan swarmed with Christmas shoppers, John Gotti and Salvatore (Sammy Bull) Gravano orchestrated the dramatic assassination of Mafia boss Paul Castellano. Yesterday, on the anniversary of that epic mob hit, Gravano unveiled his new podcast in which he talks about his life as a murderous mob underboss and his decision to become a government informant.
The podcast is called Our Thing — as in Cosa Nostra — and while Gravano chose an auspicious date for his launch, he actually says little about the spectacular killing in front of Sparks Steak House by Gotti and his gang of ten during a 43-minute long audio.
Instead, the tape begins with the events a few years later that led up to the FBI's arrest at the Ravenite Social Club on December 11, 1990 of Gravano, Gotti and the still incarcerated Frank (Fankie Loc) Locascio on racketeering and murder charges.
Gravano & The BullSammy Bull details his love-hate relationship with Gotti, and how it led to his decision to turn his back on the mob and cooperate — and how it changed his life forever. He also confesses how his decision to become a turncoat "rat" ruined his relationship with his daughter Karen for a long time. On the podcast, Karen says, "I felt like he stabbed me in the heart."
Gravano described his horror at seeing the retaliation bombing murder of Gotti's first underboss, Frank DeCicco, a close Gravano-pal, a few months after the Castellano rubout. The Bull stated for the first time that he and Gotti had determined that Genovese boss Vincent (Chin) Gigante was behind it, and had planned to kill him. Gotti later called it off, he said.
DeCicco was murdered on April 13, 1986, across the street from a Sunday meeting at the Veterans and Friends Social Club in Bensonhurst where a full house of wiseguys had gathered. During the meeting, DeCicco went out to his car to look for a lawyer's business card that a fellow wiseguy had asked him for, Gravano says.
"I said, 'Frank, you want me to get it?' He said, 'No I'll get it.' So he walked across the street," Gravano continued. "He opened the door of the car on the passenger side and he sat in the car sideways," to look for the card in the glove box, he said. "There was this huge explosion," he said. "It rocked the whole neighborhood. Windows broke."
The Bomb CarGravano ran across the street and tried to "grab him and pull him away from the car," he said, but couldn't. "There was no part of his body left," he said. "It was sickening how I saw him. Not like he was shot. Not like things we were used to. He was completely blown away."
It took a few years for Gotti and Gravano to decide definitively that the bloody hit had been the work of Gigante, the feared Genovese chieftain, mainly because Gigante was "the only one who had the connections (and) the balls to do this," says Gravano. In 1990, at a "private meeting," Sammy Bull says in the podcast, the Dapper Don ordered Sammy to kill Gigante.
"It was music to my ears," says Gravano. "I grew up with Frank. We were extremely close." Sammy Bull says he kept the plan "very low key" as he "designed" a rubout plot. It called for him to "kill Chin and whoever the fuck he was with" as he came out of the Triangle Social Club on Sullivan Street in Greenwich Village.
His plan, he boasts, "was enormous . . . bigger than the Castellano hit" which was an "internal" rubout plot by the Gambino family. "This was killing the boss of another family," says Gravano, a move that was as big as it gets in Gang Land.
Sometime later, however, Gravano reports, "John called me in and he told me, 'The hit's off. Put it on the side.'" Gravano was frustrated, he says as he never got the opportunity to avenge the murder of DeCicco, whose casket he had knelt beside while vowing to kill "everyone" who had anything to do with his death.
Anthony CassoGigante died in prison in 2005. Justice was a bit slower for a Gigante cohort in the killing, but on Tuesday, Luchese underboss Anthony (Gaspipe) Casso also died behind bars while serving a life sentence for murder
According to Sammy Bull's account, Gotti's decision to call off the hit came shortly before federal prosecutors in Brooklyn filed their racketeering indictment against the Gambino family administration. A few days later, a team of FBI agents, including several who are heard describing the investigation and the cat and mouse game between the FBI and Gotti, arrested them on racketeering and murder charges that put Gotti and Locascio behind bars for the rest of their lives.
That was a fate Sammy Bull escaped because he decided to cooperate eleven months later, in November of 1991.
The podcast — which has been in the works for more than a year — is still a work in progress. At this point, it includes no pictures or videos, only the one 43-minute audio that's available on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. It will be interesting to see what advertisers, if any, sign on. Gang Land is considering it, depending on the rates.
Mafia Women Other Books FAQ L