by Chucky » Thu May 10, 2018 4:39 am
This Week in Gang Land
by Jerry Capeci
Sweet Seven Year Sentence For Last Gangster In $20 Million Bank Heists
Gang Land Exclusive! In a surprising conclusion to the spectacular theft of nearly $21 million in cash, jewelry and other valuables from two bank vaults and hundreds of safety deposit boxes, a tough sentencing judge gave a sweet seven year prison term to a mob associate who was looking at more than 13 years for his role in the 2016 bank heists in Brooklyn and Queens.
Manhattan Federal Judge Katherine Forrest gave the big break to Anthony Mascuzzio, a 38-year-old professional burglar who took part in the daring weekend-long bank heists while he was still on supervised release for a series of burglaries of electronics stores along the East Coast. As the judge also noted, Mascuzzio had been convicted in 2012 of a similar bank burglary.
"I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone," said an observer familiar with Forrest's reputation for heavy-handed prison terms who was in court for the sentencing. The judge said she believed that Mascuzzio was among a "very small group" of criminals whom she has seen in her seven years on the bench who she thought were "ready to change" their ways.
The sentence was more than two years less than the low end of the 110-to-137 month prison term called for in Mascuzzio's plea agreement. And it was six months less than the 90 months Forrest gave the hapless getaway driver who needed a "boost" from a motorist to jump start his car at 3 AM so he could get to the targeted Borough Park bank in April of 2016.
Forrest said that she gave Mascuzzio a "significant downward variance" from his recommended prison term — one that prosecutors can appeal, but did not indicate in court that they would — because he seemed "more sincere than a lot of people" who have expressed their remorse in letters to the judge or in statements in court. Forrest also dismissed a violation of supervised release charge for which Mascuzzio faced up to two years in prison.
When he addressed the court, Mascuzzio said he would "not blame" the judge for saying, "Here we go again" when she heard him say he was sorry. But he insisted: "While you may say, 'Here we go again,' I say, 'Never again.' I'm done. I need to fix it, and I will. This time is different. It's not just about money. What these victims have suffered is something I cannot live with."
"They lost part of their hearts," he continued. "Money you can get back; the things that were lost, you can't. I have sat here listening to the victims speak, and it has truly affected me because I can't sleep at night. I am sorry. I will always be sorry."
"I wrote to you in my letter that I do understand their loss because now it's my loss," he said, stating that he would now lose his wife and five children "for a long time, time I can never get back. This is about me. I have only myself to blame. The victims here did not deserve this. My family does not deserve this. I deserve it. This life has done nothing but put me in jail. It has ruined me. I am done. I am sorry to the victims in this case, and I am sorry to my family."
The judge told Mascuzzio, whose wife and oldest daughter, 18, were in court, that while "one hundred percent of the people who sit in your seat tell me they're never going to do it again," almost all of them are lying, either to the court, or to themselves, or both.
But Forrest told Mascuzzio: "You speak words that sound sincere," noting that the letter he wrote her before the sentencing was "profound" and "different than a lot of the letters" she usually gets.
In their sentencing memo, and in their remarks to the judge, prosecutors Benet Kearney and David Denton officially asked for a "substantial" sentence within the sentencing guidelines. But they indicated during the proceeding that they would not be upset by a downward departure.
Prosecutor Kearney noted that codefendants Charles (Duke) Kerrigan, who got 200 months in prison, and his brother Christopher, the getaway driver who got 90 months, have refused to help retrieve any part of the more than $20 million in cash and valuables that the feds now say were stolen from the two heists. (When the feds announced the arrests of Mascuzzio, Duke Kerrigan and ring leader Michael Mazzara in July, 2016, they put the total loss at $5 million. In the latest court filing, the amount is $20,887,360.38.)
Noting that many stolen items "were of incredible significance," Kearney stated that Mascuzzio had returned items "of incredible religious significance" that were stolen "from the HSBC Bank which has not gotten as much mention at these proceedings" as the Maspeth Federal Savings bank in Queens, where the losses claimed by safety deposit box holders have risen to more than $20 million.
"They're Judaica," said Kearney. "They seem to be Torah scrolls, knives, items that, while they certainly have monetary value in that they're precious metals and ornate, their significance goes far beyond that both to an individual owner who I'm sure has memories and value associated with them but also in terms of their context for their use in religious ceremonies."
Because those religious artifacts "were not destroyed," and because of Mascuzzio's "commendable" actions in returning them, the government "will be making arrangements to return them to their owners," said Kearney.
Before imposing her sentence, Forrest echoed the prosecutor's assertions regarding the refusal by the Kerrigan brothers to return any stolen loot; lawyers for both contend that they didn't have any valuables to return. The judge noted that Mazzara, who was sentenced to 135 months, had also returned stolen goods, but that they "were different from the ones" that Mascuzzio had given back, and that Mazzara was the "planner" of both heists and the "leader" of the burglary crew.
Unlike his codefendants, Mascuzzio, said Forrest, belonged to a "really small group" of defendants who have appeared before her. The judge stated that he seemed to understand and feel the pain that he had caused his victims; that he was one of "the ones who've changed" and are "telling me the truth" when they "tell me they're not going to do it again."
For defendants like him, the judge said, she has an obligation "to figure out" how to come up with a prison term that is long enough to make them pay for the crime they committed but also "give them some credit for the fact that I think that they have moved towards a new life" and have truly decided to give up their criminal ways.
But since she had "been fooled" by defendants in the past, Forrest told Mascuzzio that she had to come up with prison term that would recognize "that you may be one of the ones, even though you've done this before" who is "ready to change" and also address "the harm and social impact" of his crime.
In the end, Forrest decided that a seven year prison term for Mascuzzio would "promote respect for the law, promote the rule of law, promote justice" and also insure the public that he would not be "out on the streets too soon" if she "was wrong" about Mascuzzio's intentions.
Mascuzzio's attorney, James Kousouros, who had cited his client's remorse and his decision to return stolen goods and had sought a sentence a "touch lower" than the 110 month low end of his client's guidelines, told Gang Land he was "obviously very pleased that the judge felt that Anthony's remorse was heartfelt and that he was finished with this type of conduct."
If the government decides not to appeal, Mascuzzio, who was remanded by Forrest when he pleaded guilty back in mid-December, and who served several months behind bars following his arrest, will be home for Christmas in 2023.
It's unlikely that Mazzara, whose prison term was within the guidelines of his plea deal, will appeal. But Charles and Christopher Kerrigan have each appealed their sentences to the Second Circuit Court of Appeals.
One Down And One To Go For Paulie Roast Beef
Paul (Paulie Roast Beef) Cassano, a Luchese wiseguy who faced life behind bars a year ago when he was hit with racketeering and attempted murder charges, was sentenced to 18 months in prison Monday. The plea deal was reached after prosecutors agreed to drop the most serious charges against him in return for his guilty plea to a conspiracy to commit an assault.
Cassano, who has been detained without bail since his arrest a year ago along with 18 other Luchese mobsters and associates on racketeering conspiracy charges, had hoped for the time-served sentence sought by his lawyers and recommended by probation officials. But he'll have to spend at least another three and a half months behind bars before he's released.
White Plains Federal Judge Cathy Seibel went along with arguments by prosecutors, and gave Cassano the high end of the sentencing guidelines in his plea agreement. Her thinking, the judge said, stemmed from Paulie Roast Beef's status as a "made man" who allegedly agreed to take part in a violent plot to whack or seriously injure a rival gangster who had dissed the Luchese family's longtime underboss, Steven (Stevie Wonder) Crea.
Cassano's lawyers countered that he would have gone to trial to confront the charges had they not been dropped and shouldn't be sentenced for allegations that remain unproven. But Judge Seibel said she could consider the allegations in the original indictment, and stated that she could sentence Paulie Roast Beef to three years, the statutory maximum.
In the end, however, the judge agreed to sentence him to a term within the sentencing guidelines contained in the plea agreement that Cassano, 39, and the government prosecutors had signed.
But things could still get worse for Paulie Roast Beef, not in White Plains, but in Manhattan. Cassano has the unenviable distinction of being the only defendant to be hit with racketeering charges in the last two major mob cases filed by Southern District of New York prosecutors.
Cassano is slated to be sentenced later this month in Manhattan Federal Court for illegal gambling charges stemming from the monster 46-defendant case in which mobsters and associates from five crime families, including Philadelphia mob boss Joseph (Skinny Joey) Merlino, were hit with racketeering charges in 2016.
In the Manhattan case, Cassano pleaded guilty to taking part in a multi-family online bookmaking operation from 2011 until 2014. He faces a recommended prison term between four and 10 months according to the plea agreement he reached with Manhattan prosecutors before their White Plains colleagues hit him even harder in the Luchese family case.
Attorneys Anthony DiPietro and Mathew Mari, who negotiated Cassano's White Plains plea deal, and have stated in court papers that the bookmaking charges in Manhattan mirror gambling charges in White Plains, are expected to ask Judge Richard Sullivan for a "time-served" sentence for Cassano, or to impose one that is concurrent to the 18-month prison term he got this week.
Paulie Roast Beef's Manhattan sentencing, which has long been scheduled for May 25, is still scheduled for that day, following a flurry of court filings about the date by Manhattan prosecutors and attorney Mari.
On Tuesday, the day after he was sentenced in White Plains, prosecutors asked Sullivan to put the Manhattan sentencing off until July because all four assistant U.S. attorneys familiar with Cassano's case are either on trial in other cases or would be out of the office on that date.
In a same-day reply, Mari agreed to only a "brief" adjournment, and asked for a prompt sentence date so that Cassano can be transferred out of his federal lockup in Brooklyn and serve out the balance of his sentence in a regular prison facility.
Yesterday, prosecutors withdrew the request for an adjournment, stating that "the government will have an assistant U.S. attorney available" to handle the sentencing "as originally planned."
Ask Andy: Going Away To College
"Going away to college" has long been a wiseguy euphemism for spending time away from home while actually being behind bars for one crime or another. But more than a few mobsters, including some family bosses, have actually gone to college and gotten degrees.
Detroit's Jack Tocco was one of seven children of William (Black Bill) Tocco, a major power in the Detroit family for decades. Young Jack was a good student, did well in high school and from all accounts his old man was proud of his son's academic prowess. He graduated from the University of Detroit with a degree in finance in 1949.
It's not clear when he was inducted into the family, but he was very successful in developing real estate and other legitimate enterprises for the crime family, as well as for the Tocco clan. In 1979, he took over the crime family. His business investments grew, but he kept a low profile and the feds were not able to link him to any serious crime.
But 17 years later, the feds finally banged the hammer down on the Detroit mob, and on March 15, 1996, Tocco, his brother Anthony Joseph, and assorted other senior members of the organization were hit with RICO charges. It looked like Tocco was destined for a long stretch in prison when he was found guilty of racketeering conspiracy. But the trial judge startled prosecutors when he gave Tocco a slap on the wrist sentence of a year in a halfway house. A number of appeals later, he received a sentence of 34 months.
All told, Tocco served less than two and a half years behind bars, being released from prison on November 21, 2001. He spent the last 13 years of his life as a free man. He was very lucky.
So were both his families. As part of the legal process, the government demanded over $7 million in restitution from Tocco and four associates. Fortunately for them, however, the judge ruled against the feds, protecting the mob leader's wealth.
Mobster Frank DeSimone, who was elected boss of the Los Angeles crime family in 1957, not only graduated from college; he also earned a law degree from USC. He passed the California bar in 1933. For years he was an active lawyer and was even involved in a case with Aladena (Jimmy The Weasel) Fratianno. He was not Fratianno's lawyer, but in a 1954 case, the Weasel felt that by not tape-recording a favorable witness, who later didn't show up at trial, DeSimone had doomed Fratianno to a conviction and a 10 year sentence. DeSimone had represented a codfendant, who was also convicted.
The hot tempered Fratianno threatened DeSimone, which could have been a very stupid move a few years later when DeSimone took over the crime family. But the Weasel called in a few favors and wangled a transfer to the Chicago family, and got out from under the control of the hated DeSimone.
Unfortunately for the newly minted boss, his relative anonymity went up in smoke when he was among more than 50 Cosa Nostra mobsters detained and identified at Apalachin, New York, in November of 1957. In the many court cases that evolved from the Apalachin meeting, DeSimone dodged a lot of legal bullets and only did a four month stint for contempt of a grand jury by ducking a subpoena to testify before the panel.
But DeSimone had a lot of other troubles during the next 10 years. His San Diego capo, Tony Mirabelle, was murdered on December 27 1958, not in a mob doing, but a home invasion that went south. On June 13, 1962, his underboss, Simone Scozzari, was deported after a long legal battle. In 1966, DeSimone's San Diego soldier, Frank Bompensiero, began 11 years of secretly informing to the FBI. Although DeSimone avoided legal problems after Apalachin, the stress got to him in August of 1967. He dropped dead of a heart attack.
From New York to California, many other Cosa Nostra members have also earned baccalaureate degrees. They include Gambino capo Thomas Gambino and Genovese capo Conrad Ianniello from New York, Cleveland boss Giueseppo Romano, New England capo Vincent Ferrara and capo Greg Genovese of San Jose.
This Week in Gang Land
by Jerry Capeci
[b]Sweet Seven Year Sentence For Last Gangster In $20 Million Bank Heists[/b]
Gang Land Exclusive! In a surprising conclusion to the spectacular theft of nearly $21 million in cash, jewelry and other valuables from two bank vaults and hundreds of safety deposit boxes, a tough sentencing judge gave a sweet seven year prison term to a mob associate who was looking at more than 13 years for his role in the 2016 bank heists in Brooklyn and Queens.
Manhattan Federal Judge Katherine Forrest gave the big break to Anthony Mascuzzio, a 38-year-old professional burglar who took part in the daring weekend-long bank heists while he was still on supervised release for a series of burglaries of electronics stores along the East Coast. As the judge also noted, Mascuzzio had been convicted in 2012 of a similar bank burglary.
"I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone," said an observer familiar with Forrest's reputation for heavy-handed prison terms who was in court for the sentencing. The judge said she believed that Mascuzzio was among a "very small group" of criminals whom she has seen in her seven years on the bench who she thought were "ready to change" their ways.
The sentence was more than two years less than the low end of the 110-to-137 month prison term called for in Mascuzzio's plea agreement. And it was six months less than the 90 months Forrest gave the hapless getaway driver who needed a "boost" from a motorist to jump start his car at 3 AM so he could get to the targeted Borough Park bank in April of 2016.
Forrest said that she gave Mascuzzio a "significant downward variance" from his recommended prison term — one that prosecutors can appeal, but did not indicate in court that they would — because he seemed "more sincere than a lot of people" who have expressed their remorse in letters to the judge or in statements in court. Forrest also dismissed a violation of supervised release charge for which Mascuzzio faced up to two years in prison.
When he addressed the court, Mascuzzio said he would "not blame" the judge for saying, "Here we go again" when she heard him say he was sorry. But he insisted: "While you may say, 'Here we go again,' I say, 'Never again.' I'm done. I need to fix it, and I will. This time is different. It's not just about money. What these victims have suffered is something I cannot live with."
"They lost part of their hearts," he continued. "Money you can get back; the things that were lost, you can't. I have sat here listening to the victims speak, and it has truly affected me because I can't sleep at night. I am sorry. I will always be sorry."
"I wrote to you in my letter that I do understand their loss because now it's my loss," he said, stating that he would now lose his wife and five children "for a long time, time I can never get back. This is about me. I have only myself to blame. The victims here did not deserve this. My family does not deserve this. I deserve it. This life has done nothing but put me in jail. It has ruined me. I am done. I am sorry to the victims in this case, and I am sorry to my family."
The judge told Mascuzzio, whose wife and oldest daughter, 18, were in court, that while "one hundred percent of the people who sit in your seat tell me they're never going to do it again," almost all of them are lying, either to the court, or to themselves, or both.
But Forrest told Mascuzzio: "You speak words that sound sincere," noting that the letter he wrote her before the sentencing was "profound" and "different than a lot of the letters" she usually gets.
In their sentencing memo, and in their remarks to the judge, prosecutors Benet Kearney and David Denton officially asked for a "substantial" sentence within the sentencing guidelines. But they indicated during the proceeding that they would not be upset by a downward departure.
Prosecutor Kearney noted that codefendants Charles (Duke) Kerrigan, who got 200 months in prison, and his brother Christopher, the getaway driver who got 90 months, have refused to help retrieve any part of the more than $20 million in cash and valuables that the feds now say were stolen from the two heists. (When the feds announced the arrests of Mascuzzio, Duke Kerrigan and ring leader Michael Mazzara in July, 2016, they put the total loss at $5 million. In the latest court filing, the amount is $20,887,360.38.)
Noting that many stolen items "were of incredible significance," Kearney stated that Mascuzzio had returned items "of incredible religious significance" that were stolen "from the HSBC Bank which has not gotten as much mention at these proceedings" as the Maspeth Federal Savings bank in Queens, where the losses claimed by safety deposit box holders have risen to more than $20 million.
"They're Judaica," said Kearney. "They seem to be Torah scrolls, knives, items that, while they certainly have monetary value in that they're precious metals and ornate, their significance goes far beyond that both to an individual owner who I'm sure has memories and value associated with them but also in terms of their context for their use in religious ceremonies."
Because those religious artifacts "were not destroyed," and because of Mascuzzio's "commendable" actions in returning them, the government "will be making arrangements to return them to their owners," said Kearney.
Before imposing her sentence, Forrest echoed the prosecutor's assertions regarding the refusal by the Kerrigan brothers to return any stolen loot; lawyers for both contend that they didn't have any valuables to return. The judge noted that Mazzara, who was sentenced to 135 months, had also returned stolen goods, but that they "were different from the ones" that Mascuzzio had given back, and that Mazzara was the "planner" of both heists and the "leader" of the burglary crew.
Unlike his codefendants, Mascuzzio, said Forrest, belonged to a "really small group" of defendants who have appeared before her. The judge stated that he seemed to understand and feel the pain that he had caused his victims; that he was one of "the ones who've changed" and are "telling me the truth" when they "tell me they're not going to do it again."
For defendants like him, the judge said, she has an obligation "to figure out" how to come up with a prison term that is long enough to make them pay for the crime they committed but also "give them some credit for the fact that I think that they have moved towards a new life" and have truly decided to give up their criminal ways.
But since she had "been fooled" by defendants in the past, Forrest told Mascuzzio that she had to come up with prison term that would recognize "that you may be one of the ones, even though you've done this before" who is "ready to change" and also address "the harm and social impact" of his crime.
In the end, Forrest decided that a seven year prison term for Mascuzzio would "promote respect for the law, promote the rule of law, promote justice" and also insure the public that he would not be "out on the streets too soon" if she "was wrong" about Mascuzzio's intentions.
Mascuzzio's attorney, James Kousouros, who had cited his client's remorse and his decision to return stolen goods and had sought a sentence a "touch lower" than the 110 month low end of his client's guidelines, told Gang Land he was "obviously very pleased that the judge felt that Anthony's remorse was heartfelt and that he was finished with this type of conduct."
If the government decides not to appeal, Mascuzzio, who was remanded by Forrest when he pleaded guilty back in mid-December, and who served several months behind bars following his arrest, will be home for Christmas in 2023.
It's unlikely that Mazzara, whose prison term was within the guidelines of his plea deal, will appeal. But Charles and Christopher Kerrigan have each appealed their sentences to the Second Circuit Court of Appeals.
[b]One Down And One To Go For Paulie Roast Beef[/b]
Paul (Paulie Roast Beef) Cassano, a Luchese wiseguy who faced life behind bars a year ago when he was hit with racketeering and attempted murder charges, was sentenced to 18 months in prison Monday. The plea deal was reached after prosecutors agreed to drop the most serious charges against him in return for his guilty plea to a conspiracy to commit an assault.
Cassano, who has been detained without bail since his arrest a year ago along with 18 other Luchese mobsters and associates on racketeering conspiracy charges, had hoped for the time-served sentence sought by his lawyers and recommended by probation officials. But he'll have to spend at least another three and a half months behind bars before he's released.
White Plains Federal Judge Cathy Seibel went along with arguments by prosecutors, and gave Cassano the high end of the sentencing guidelines in his plea agreement. Her thinking, the judge said, stemmed from Paulie Roast Beef's status as a "made man" who allegedly agreed to take part in a violent plot to whack or seriously injure a rival gangster who had dissed the Luchese family's longtime underboss, Steven (Stevie Wonder) Crea.
Cassano's lawyers countered that he would have gone to trial to confront the charges had they not been dropped and shouldn't be sentenced for allegations that remain unproven. But Judge Seibel said she could consider the allegations in the original indictment, and stated that she could sentence Paulie Roast Beef to three years, the statutory maximum.
In the end, however, the judge agreed to sentence him to a term within the sentencing guidelines contained in the plea agreement that Cassano, 39, and the government prosecutors had signed.
But things could still get worse for Paulie Roast Beef, not in White Plains, but in Manhattan. Cassano has the unenviable distinction of being the only defendant to be hit with racketeering charges in the last two major mob cases filed by Southern District of New York prosecutors.
Cassano is slated to be sentenced later this month in Manhattan Federal Court for illegal gambling charges stemming from the monster 46-defendant case in which mobsters and associates from five crime families, including Philadelphia mob boss Joseph (Skinny Joey) Merlino, were hit with racketeering charges in 2016.
In the Manhattan case, Cassano pleaded guilty to taking part in a multi-family online bookmaking operation from 2011 until 2014. He faces a recommended prison term between four and 10 months according to the plea agreement he reached with Manhattan prosecutors before their White Plains colleagues hit him even harder in the Luchese family case.
Attorneys Anthony DiPietro and Mathew Mari, who negotiated Cassano's White Plains plea deal, and have stated in court papers that the bookmaking charges in Manhattan mirror gambling charges in White Plains, are expected to ask Judge Richard Sullivan for a "time-served" sentence for Cassano, or to impose one that is concurrent to the 18-month prison term he got this week.
Paulie Roast Beef's Manhattan sentencing, which has long been scheduled for May 25, is still scheduled for that day, following a flurry of court filings about the date by Manhattan prosecutors and attorney Mari.
On Tuesday, the day after he was sentenced in White Plains, prosecutors asked Sullivan to put the Manhattan sentencing off until July because all four assistant U.S. attorneys familiar with Cassano's case are either on trial in other cases or would be out of the office on that date.
In a same-day reply, Mari agreed to only a "brief" adjournment, and asked for a prompt sentence date so that Cassano can be transferred out of his federal lockup in Brooklyn and serve out the balance of his sentence in a regular prison facility.
Yesterday, prosecutors withdrew the request for an adjournment, stating that "the government will have an assistant U.S. attorney available" to handle the sentencing "as originally planned."
[b]Ask Andy: Going Away To College[/b]
"Going away to college" has long been a wiseguy euphemism for spending time away from home while actually being behind bars for one crime or another. But more than a few mobsters, including some family bosses, have actually gone to college and gotten degrees.
Detroit's Jack Tocco was one of seven children of William (Black Bill) Tocco, a major power in the Detroit family for decades. Young Jack was a good student, did well in high school and from all accounts his old man was proud of his son's academic prowess. He graduated from the University of Detroit with a degree in finance in 1949.
It's not clear when he was inducted into the family, but he was very successful in developing real estate and other legitimate enterprises for the crime family, as well as for the Tocco clan. In 1979, he took over the crime family. His business investments grew, but he kept a low profile and the feds were not able to link him to any serious crime.
But 17 years later, the feds finally banged the hammer down on the Detroit mob, and on March 15, 1996, Tocco, his brother Anthony Joseph, and assorted other senior members of the organization were hit with RICO charges. It looked like Tocco was destined for a long stretch in prison when he was found guilty of racketeering conspiracy. But the trial judge startled prosecutors when he gave Tocco a slap on the wrist sentence of a year in a halfway house. A number of appeals later, he received a sentence of 34 months.
All told, Tocco served less than two and a half years behind bars, being released from prison on November 21, 2001. He spent the last 13 years of his life as a free man. He was very lucky.
So were both his families. As part of the legal process, the government demanded over $7 million in restitution from Tocco and four associates. Fortunately for them, however, the judge ruled against the feds, protecting the mob leader's wealth.
Mobster Frank DeSimone, who was elected boss of the Los Angeles crime family in 1957, not only graduated from college; he also earned a law degree from USC. He passed the California bar in 1933. For years he was an active lawyer and was even involved in a case with Aladena (Jimmy The Weasel) Fratianno. He was not Fratianno's lawyer, but in a 1954 case, the Weasel felt that by not tape-recording a favorable witness, who later didn't show up at trial, DeSimone had doomed Fratianno to a conviction and a 10 year sentence. DeSimone had represented a codfendant, who was also convicted.
The hot tempered Fratianno threatened DeSimone, which could have been a very stupid move a few years later when DeSimone took over the crime family. But the Weasel called in a few favors and wangled a transfer to the Chicago family, and got out from under the control of the hated DeSimone.
Unfortunately for the newly minted boss, his relative anonymity went up in smoke when he was among more than 50 Cosa Nostra mobsters detained and identified at Apalachin, New York, in November of 1957. In the many court cases that evolved from the Apalachin meeting, DeSimone dodged a lot of legal bullets and only did a four month stint for contempt of a grand jury by ducking a subpoena to testify before the panel.
But DeSimone had a lot of other troubles during the next 10 years. His San Diego capo, Tony Mirabelle, was murdered on December 27 1958, not in a mob doing, but a home invasion that went south. On June 13, 1962, his underboss, Simone Scozzari, was deported after a long legal battle. In 1966, DeSimone's San Diego soldier, Frank Bompensiero, began 11 years of secretly informing to the FBI. Although DeSimone avoided legal problems after Apalachin, the stress got to him in August of 1967. He dropped dead of a heart attack.
From New York to California, many other Cosa Nostra members have also earned baccalaureate degrees. They include Gambino capo Thomas Gambino and Genovese capo Conrad Ianniello from New York, Cleveland boss Giueseppo Romano, New England capo Vincent Ferrara and capo Greg Genovese of San Jose.