Friends of ours: Nick Calabrese, John "No Nose" DiFronzo, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo
Friends of mine: John Ambrose
A deputy marshal accused of leaking sensitive information about a valuable mob informant is claiming that Chicago's U.S. attorney and FBI chief coerced statements from him.
John Ambrose is asking that a judge toss out statements he made last September to U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald and Chicago's FBI Special Agent in Charge Robert Grant. Ambrose claims he was pressured into talking and was never read his rights.
"I felt extreme pressure because of . . . the stature of the men who were confronting me and the intimidating nature of the confrontation," Ambrose wrote in a court-filed affidavit. "The pressure was so extreme that my body was shaking and my mind was racing."
Ambrose, 38, was charged in January with theft of information after the government said he leaked confidential material about protected mob witness Nick Calabrese to "Individual A." Calabrese will be a top government witness in this June's Operation Family Secrets mob trial. Ambrose watched Calabrese in a brief stint with witness protection. The feds say the information Ambrose leaked about Calabrese made its way to the mob.
Last September, Ambrose said he was told to come to the FBI to talk about white supremacists and fugitives. Once there, Grant and Fitzgerald allegedly accused him of compromising the government and pushed him to talk.
At one point, Ambrose claims Fitzgerald referenced his father, Thomas, who was convicted in the Marquette 10 cop corruption case. "I told Mr. Fitzgerald that they took a cheap shot bringing my father into this," Ambrose wrote.
Ambrose said Grant told him to "think of your family. Think of your job. You don't want to go to prison."
He alleged Fitzgerald told him: "You've got two choices, either fill in the blanks and cooperate, or possibly face charges and lose your job." Ambrose claims he talked because he felt he "had no choice."
The government has claimed that Ambrose gave conflicting statements. They say in one he admitted giving sensitive information to a third party, who knew reputed mobster John "No Nose" DiFronzo. Ambrose allegedly said he hoped DiFronzo's "good will" would help him capture onetime mob fugitive Joey "The Clown" Lombardo. In another interview, Ambrose allegedly denied intending to pass information to DiFronzo or mob members.
Spokesmen for the FBI and U.S. attorney's office declined to comment. Prosecutors are expected to respond in future court filings.
Thanks to Natasha Korecki
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Role Flip-Flop: Feds Serve as Loan Sharks for Lombardo
Friends of ours: Joseph "Joey The Clown" Lombardo
In a better late than never move, federal authorities are moving to collect nearly $500,000 in fines and judgments -- more than 20 years old -- against top Chicago mobster Joseph "Joey The Clown" Lombardo.
Lombardo's attorney, Rick Halprin, is crying foul -- over the timing of the request just as Lombardo is to go on trial, and at the interest rate the feds have charged on one fine -- 18 percent per year.
"Apparently, this is a federally approved involuntary juice loan," Halprin wrote in response to the feds' request.
With such a high interest rate, Lombardo "would have been much better off dealing with his co-defendants," Halprin cracked. Lombardo is charged with several other top mobsters in one of the most important mob trials in Chicago history.
The 18 percent per year was the interest rate allowed to be charged by law from the 1986 case. Lombardo paid $250 on an original judgment of $143,409.58 before the interest started accumulating.
The U.S. attorney's office had no comment on the timing of the motion. It comes about a year after a federal judge appointed Halprin to defend Lombardo at taxpayer expense. Lombardo said he didn't have the money to pay a lawyer, but the judge said the government could examine Lombardo's finances to see if he really did.
Halprin balks at the timing of the request, noting that the fines date from the 1980s and it comes as he is preparing Lombardo's defense in a complex case starting June 5. He also contends that Lombardo may no longer owe the money, in one instance possibly because of a settlement Lombardo made with the government in a civil case.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
In a better late than never move, federal authorities are moving to collect nearly $500,000 in fines and judgments -- more than 20 years old -- against top Chicago mobster Joseph "Joey The Clown" Lombardo.
Lombardo's attorney, Rick Halprin, is crying foul -- over the timing of the request just as Lombardo is to go on trial, and at the interest rate the feds have charged on one fine -- 18 percent per year.
"Apparently, this is a federally approved involuntary juice loan," Halprin wrote in response to the feds' request.
With such a high interest rate, Lombardo "would have been much better off dealing with his co-defendants," Halprin cracked. Lombardo is charged with several other top mobsters in one of the most important mob trials in Chicago history.
The 18 percent per year was the interest rate allowed to be charged by law from the 1986 case. Lombardo paid $250 on an original judgment of $143,409.58 before the interest started accumulating.
The U.S. attorney's office had no comment on the timing of the motion. It comes about a year after a federal judge appointed Halprin to defend Lombardo at taxpayer expense. Lombardo said he didn't have the money to pay a lawyer, but the judge said the government could examine Lombardo's finances to see if he really did.
Halprin balks at the timing of the request, noting that the fines date from the 1980s and it comes as he is preparing Lombardo's defense in a complex case starting June 5. He also contends that Lombardo may no longer owe the money, in one instance possibly because of a settlement Lombardo made with the government in a civil case.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Smokin' Aces
Mob boss Primo Sparazza has taken out a hefty contract on Buddy "Aces" Israel--a sleazy magician who has agreed to turn state's evidence against the Vegas mob. The FBI, sensing a chance to use this small-time con to bring down big-target Sparazza, places Aces into protective custody-under the supervision of two agents dispatched to Aces' Lake Tahoe hideout. When word of the price on Aces' head spreads into the community of ex-cons and cons-to-be, it entices bounty hunters, thugs-for-hire, deadly vixens and double-crossing mobsters to join in the hunt. With all eyes on Tahoe, this rogues' gallery collides in a comic race to hit the jackpot and rub out Aces.
John Gotti: How the FBI Made the Charges Stick
Friends of ours: John "Teflon Don" Gotti, Gambino Crime Family, Paul Castellano, Aniello Dellacroce, Thomas Bilotti, Salvatore "Sammy the Bull" Gravano
He was slippery, yes, but even the “Teflon Don” couldn’t escape justice forever.
Despite the future nickname, John Gotti—a violent, ruthless mobster who’d grown up on the streets of New York—had been in and out of prison several times in his early career. In 1968, for example, we arrested him for his role in a plot to steal thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. Gotti was sent to prison, but was released in 1972.
And quickly made more trouble. Within two years, we’d arrested him again for murder. Same story: he went to prison and was out in a few years. Soon after, he became a “made man” for the Gambino family, one of the five most powerful syndicates in the Big Apple. Gambling, loansharking, and narcotics trafficking were his stocks in trade.
The heat was on. By the early 80s, using Title III wiretaps, mob informants, and undercover agents, we were beginning to get clear insights into the Gambino family’s hierarchy and activities (and into the other families as well) and were building strong cases against them as criminal enterprises. A break against Gotti came in late 1985, when mob violence spilled out on to the streets of Manhattan.
The scene of the crime? Sparks’ Steak House, a popular hangout for major criminals. On the evening of December 16, 1985, 70-year-old-mafioso Paul Castellano—the apparent successor of recently deceased Gambino boss Aniello Dellacroce—was gunned down along with his number two in command, Thomas Bilotti, in front of the restaurant. Gotti, who’d been watching from a car at a safe distance, had one of his men drive him by the scene to make sure his deadly orders had been carried out. [Thanks to several readers who pointed out that Dellacroce was actually not the boss. It was best put by pointing out that Dellacroce was the underboss, & had been under Carlo Gambino. Castellano had been the boss since 1976 (when Gambino died). In 1976, there was fear Dellacroce, as underboss, would resist Gambino's choice of Castellano as boss, since Dellacroce was above Castellano in the family. However, after being given almost complete autonomy over several crews, Dellacroce acquiesced to Castellano's appointment as boss. Murder Machine
(Capeci & Mustain) has more details of all this.]
Top hood. Having eliminated the competition, Gotti took over as head of the Gambino family. With his expensive suits, lavish parties, and illegal dealings, he quickly became something of a media celebrity, and the press dubbed him “The Dapper Don.” Following a string of highly-publicized acquittals—helped in large part by witness intimidation and jury tampering—Gotti also earned the “Teflon Don” nickname.
Our New York agents and their colleagues in the New York Police Department, though, refused to give up. With extensive court-authorized electronic surveillance, diligent detective work, and the eventual cooperation of Gotti’s henchman—“Sammy the Bull” Gravano—the Bureau and the NYPD built a strong case against him.
The end was near. In December 1990, our agents and NYPD detectives arrested Gotti, and he was charged with multiple counts of racketeering, extortion, jury tampering, and other crimes. This time, the judge ordered that the jurors remain anonymous, identified only by number, so no one could pressure them. And the case was airtight.
The combination worked. On April 2, 1992, 15 years ago Monday, Gotti was convicted on 13 counts, including for ordering the murders of Castellano and Bilotti. The head of our New York office famously remarked, “The don is covered with Velcro, and every charge stuck.”
Indeed. Gotti had evaded the law for the last time. He died in prison in June 2002.
Thanks to the FBI
He was slippery, yes, but even the “Teflon Don” couldn’t escape justice forever.
Despite the future nickname, John Gotti—a violent, ruthless mobster who’d grown up on the streets of New York—had been in and out of prison several times in his early career. In 1968, for example, we arrested him for his role in a plot to steal thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. Gotti was sent to prison, but was released in 1972.And quickly made more trouble. Within two years, we’d arrested him again for murder. Same story: he went to prison and was out in a few years. Soon after, he became a “made man” for the Gambino family, one of the five most powerful syndicates in the Big Apple. Gambling, loansharking, and narcotics trafficking were his stocks in trade.
The heat was on. By the early 80s, using Title III wiretaps, mob informants, and undercover agents, we were beginning to get clear insights into the Gambino family’s hierarchy and activities (and into the other families as well) and were building strong cases against them as criminal enterprises. A break against Gotti came in late 1985, when mob violence spilled out on to the streets of Manhattan.
The scene of the crime? Sparks’ Steak House, a popular hangout for major criminals. On the evening of December 16, 1985, 70-year-old-mafioso Paul Castellano—the apparent successor of recently deceased Gambino boss Aniello Dellacroce—was gunned down along with his number two in command, Thomas Bilotti, in front of the restaurant. Gotti, who’d been watching from a car at a safe distance, had one of his men drive him by the scene to make sure his deadly orders had been carried out. [Thanks to several readers who pointed out that Dellacroce was actually not the boss. It was best put by pointing out that Dellacroce was the underboss, & had been under Carlo Gambino. Castellano had been the boss since 1976 (when Gambino died). In 1976, there was fear Dellacroce, as underboss, would resist Gambino's choice of Castellano as boss, since Dellacroce was above Castellano in the family. However, after being given almost complete autonomy over several crews, Dellacroce acquiesced to Castellano's appointment as boss. Murder Machine
(Capeci & Mustain) has more details of all this.]Top hood. Having eliminated the competition, Gotti took over as head of the Gambino family. With his expensive suits, lavish parties, and illegal dealings, he quickly became something of a media celebrity, and the press dubbed him “The Dapper Don.” Following a string of highly-publicized acquittals—helped in large part by witness intimidation and jury tampering—Gotti also earned the “Teflon Don” nickname.
Our New York agents and their colleagues in the New York Police Department, though, refused to give up. With extensive court-authorized electronic surveillance, diligent detective work, and the eventual cooperation of Gotti’s henchman—“Sammy the Bull” Gravano—the Bureau and the NYPD built a strong case against him.
The end was near. In December 1990, our agents and NYPD detectives arrested Gotti, and he was charged with multiple counts of racketeering, extortion, jury tampering, and other crimes. This time, the judge ordered that the jurors remain anonymous, identified only by number, so no one could pressure them. And the case was airtight.
The combination worked. On April 2, 1992, 15 years ago Monday, Gotti was convicted on 13 counts, including for ordering the murders of Castellano and Bilotti. The head of our New York office famously remarked, “The don is covered with Velcro, and every charge stuck.”
Indeed. Gotti had evaded the law for the last time. He died in prison in June 2002.
Thanks to the FBI
Monday, April 16, 2007
Big City, Bad Blood
The private detective novel is constantly revitalized by authors with vision who take the conceit of the knight-errant and push it forward with a contemporary spin.
Authors such as Laura Lippman, Robert Crais, Steve Hamilton and S.J. Rozan continue to refresh this sub-genre. To that list, add Chicago author Sean Chercover, whose debut Big City, Bad Blood signals a true talent.
Like the best authors of private detective novels, Chercover doesn't just give a thrilling plot -- and it is indeed a story that starts strong and only accelerates -- but he also looks at his city, its past and present, movers and criminals, its beauty and its chaos.
Chercover's conflicted, complex hero perfectly matches his plot. A former newspaper reporter disillusioned with journalism, Ray Dudgeon has found another career as a private detective. Both jobs brought him in contact with some of Chicago's best and worst residents, especially in his latest job. Ray agrees to be the bodyguard for Bob Loniski, who's in Chicago to find sites for a movie shoot. Bob ventured into unknown territory and witnessed a crime. Bob needs protection from the "Chicago Outfit," the current term for the local mob. Soon the case extends to blackmail and corruption among city officials.
Chercover keeps the suspense high and also knows just how far to use violence as a plot device and when to pull back. Ray is a multilayered character; readers will look forward to exploring this new detective's personality and history.
Big City, Bad Blood will rank high on the list of the year's best debuts. Ironically, one of the other top debuts of 2007 is Chercover's fellow Chicagoan Marcus Sakey's The Blade Itself: A Novel
.
Thanks to Oline H. Cogdill
Authors such as Laura Lippman, Robert Crais, Steve Hamilton and S.J. Rozan continue to refresh this sub-genre. To that list, add Chicago author Sean Chercover, whose debut Big City, Bad Blood signals a true talent.
Like the best authors of private detective novels, Chercover doesn't just give a thrilling plot -- and it is indeed a story that starts strong and only accelerates -- but he also looks at his city, its past and present, movers and criminals, its beauty and its chaos.
Chercover's conflicted, complex hero perfectly matches his plot. A former newspaper reporter disillusioned with journalism, Ray Dudgeon has found another career as a private detective. Both jobs brought him in contact with some of Chicago's best and worst residents, especially in his latest job. Ray agrees to be the bodyguard for Bob Loniski, who's in Chicago to find sites for a movie shoot. Bob ventured into unknown territory and witnessed a crime. Bob needs protection from the "Chicago Outfit," the current term for the local mob. Soon the case extends to blackmail and corruption among city officials.
Chercover keeps the suspense high and also knows just how far to use violence as a plot device and when to pull back. Ray is a multilayered character; readers will look forward to exploring this new detective's personality and history.
Big City, Bad Blood will rank high on the list of the year's best debuts. Ironically, one of the other top debuts of 2007 is Chercover's fellow Chicagoan Marcus Sakey's The Blade Itself: A Novel
.Thanks to Oline H. Cogdill
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