Scarface: The World is Yours

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America's Most Wanted and The Chicago Syndicate for 7-7-07

America's Most Wanted and The Chicago Syndicate have partnered on AMW's upcoming episodes for Fox.

Jimmy Trindade Missing: Jimmy Trindade was a “man’s man” who loved taking long fishing trips off the coast of Florida . But last year, during one of his regular voyages—he mysteriously disappeared. Police have offered a number of possibilities as to what could’ve happened—everything from Jimmy falling overboard to a case of modern day pirates. And now, his family and friends have asked for AMW to help. Tune in this week and join the search for Jimmy Trindade.

Riyad Mohamad Hamdan: Riyad Hamdan is a convicted sex offender who police say was apprehended back in 1994. But now, they say he’s violated his parole and could be molesting children again. This week, we need your help tracking him down before anyone else is hurt.

Kevin Murden: Police say an altercation in a Harrisburg , Pa. led to a full-fledged bar brawl. In the midst of which Kevin Murden allegedly shot a man. Now, months later, police are still on his trail.

David Block: According to cops, in 2002, David Block gave a 14-year-old a spiked drink and committed a horrible crime. A friend of the victim’s family, Block accompanied them during a Florida vacation. But while the family was away, Block allegedly raped their teenage daughter. Now, five years later, he’s still on the lam. This week, we hope to put an end to his run.

Elias Urioste: Cops say Elias Urioste committed a brutal crime last winter. He allegedly attacked a New Mexico man; shooting him, forcing him to drink gasoline, and then setting him on fire. Urioste is wanted for first-degree murder and this week, and with your help this week, we can haul him in.

Chanel Petro-Nixon: Do you remember what it was like to be 16? It's supposed to be one of the best years of a girl's life. But last year, Chanel Petro-Nixon's glory days were cut short. She disappeared on June 18th, and four days later, her body was found in a trash bag in the middle of her bustling Brooklyn neighborhood. Now, a year after the murder-- nobody's forgotten and we're not giving up until we find her killer.

Mark Petersimes: Petersimes is on the run after police say he broke off his monitoring device and busted out of a Dallas halfway-house. Considering his past sexual assaults convictions, cops think he has the potential to strike again. This week, we’ll do everything we can to bring him down.

Jennifer Nielsen: 22-year-old Jennifer Nielsen was a paper delivery girl for USA Today. She was also about to give birth to her first born child. But last month, her life came to a tragic end when she was brutally stabbed to death. Police found a knife at the scene but have been unable to identify a suspect. We’re banking on this week being the week somebody comes forward.

Mike Torres: Miguel “Mike” Torres and his girlfriend Barbara seemed like the perfect match. But according to police, Barbara had no idea that Torres was waiting until after they were married to reveal his dark, and violent side.

Jerry Ambrozuk: Ambrozuk spent 24 years on the run after allegedly crashing a rental plane in Montana and leaving his girlfriend to die. America ’s Most Wanted’s longest running fugitive was captured at his home in Texas last year, and now we have the update on his trial and the verdict.

Kelly Nolan: Kelly Nolan disappeared from a Madison , Wis. bar only a few weeks ago. Now family friends have a lot of questions, and this week, we’re going to do our best to give them some answers.

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Judge Throws Attorney Out of Court at Mob Trial

Robert Cooley was a crooked lawyer with mob connections. Almost 20 years ago, he turned informant and helped send judges, aldermen and mobsters to prison. He showed up Monday at Chicago's current mob trial and was asked to leave. The judge did not explain why he asked Cooley to leave the courtroom but clearly given Cooley's role in past outfit trials he might be a distraction for some witnesses as well as the five defendants.

When Cooley appeared at the federal courthouse Monday afternoon, he had a movie producer in tow. The former federal informant, disbarred attorney and author of a tell-all book about Chicago's mob said the planned film should be his long-awaited financial reward: "Now it is time to reap the harvest," Cooley said. "I worked hard to do what I did and got no credit before. Now I think I will with the movie."

During the 1970's and 80's, Cooley was a self-described mafia "mechanic" or fixer of court cases. He bribed judges, court clerks and cops to keep his outfit clients out of jail. Later, as a federal witness, his testimony anchored as many as nine trials that exposed the mob's stranglehold on Chicago's city hall and the courts.

Cooley caused a stir Monday afternoon when he entered the courtroom where five alleged outfit bosses -- men he knew from the past -- are facing decades-old charges in the "Family Secrets" trial.

"I was never close to think of those," Cooley said. "I knew who they were and they ran in the same circles as I did but they knew who I was and there are no surprises. They pretty much put the mob out of business a while back and I don't think it is running."

Even though his mob connections date back thirty years, Cooley said he was not asked to be a witness in "Family Secrets."

He said the men on trial are not -- as alleged -- the outfit's modern day bosses. That person, he says, remains in the background, but still pulling the strings in Chicago. "There's somebody right now who has been run the city for a long time and I'm not talking about Mayor Daley but hopefully his day will come," Cooley said.

Cooley said he's living in California now and was never hidden by the federal witness protection program.

No word on when the movie based on Cooley's book might be filmed or released. It still in the research stage.

Thanks to Charles Thomas

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Mobster's Son Testifies Against Dad at Trial

Frank Calabrese Jr. had barely introduced himself and testified that he lettered in football at Holy Cross High School before his father sneered and leaned over to whisper into his lawyer's ear.

The start of his testimony Tuesday was one of the most anticipated moments of the trial -- code named Family Secrets because defendant Frank Calabrese Sr.'s son and brother had done the unthinkable, squealing on a reputed mob brother and blood relative.

The 47-year-old Calabrese Jr., stricken with multiple sclerosis, limped into court on a cane, taking the witness stand a mere 10 yards from his father. Even though Calabrese Sr. swiveled his chair for a direct look at his son, the two did not appear to make eye contact.

He was on the stand for just 45 minutes before jurors were sent home for the holiday, but Assistant U.S. Atty. John Scully led the younger Calabrese through a quick personal history: how he joined the family's mob business as just a high schooler and now operates a pizza joint. He said he's been living near Phoenix running a strip-mall restaurant that serves pizza "Chicago style."

The balding Calabrese testified in a white casual shirt with thin green stripes, his remaining hair buzzed close. He leaned into the microphone to answer each question and occasionally paused to take sips from a water bottle.

Calabrese testified he was a teenager when he joined the 26th Street crew, collecting quarters from peep-show booths in mob-controlled pornography shops with his uncle Nicholas. It is Nicholas Calabrese, Frank Calabrese Sr.'s brother, who is expected later in the trial to implicate his brother in as many as 13 decades-old gangland slayings.

Eventually, Calabrese Jr. said, he graduated to keeping the books -- gambling, juice-loan and street-tax records -- with his father.

Once, Calabrese said, his father took him along when he slapped around an associate nicknamed "Peachy" for spending Outfit gambling money. Another time, his father had him use a flare to ignite kerosene against the garage of someone who wasn't following orders. "He wasn't taking care of his obligations to us," Calabrese said.

The elder Calabrese, 70, sat with a sarcastic smile through much of the testimony, talking repeatedly to his lawyer, Joseph Lopez. His son appeared to focus mostly on the prosecutor asking questions from a few feet away. In the son's brief time Tuesday on the witness stand, no mention was made of the hidden recording device Calabrese wore to secretly tape conversations with his father while the two were imprisoned in Michigan in the 1990s.

That promises to be the highlight of the son's testimony in the trial's coming days. But Calabrese revealed how his relationship with his father soured.

Calabrese said he was moving from job to job and using powder cocaine when he went to one of his father's hiding spots and stole $200,000 in cash to help open a Lake Street restaurant. Later, he went back for hundreds of thousands of dollars more, he said. "I blew all the money," he said. "I just would spend it all wildly."

On discovering the thefts, his father slapped him and threatened him, Calabrese testified. At one point, his father drove him to an Elmwood Park garage where Outfit "work cars" were kept. "He pulled out a gun and stuck it in my face and said, 'I'd rather have you dead than disobey me,'" Calabrese said. "I started crying. I started hugging and kissing him.

"I said, 'Help me. Help me do the right thing,'" he said.

After court Tuesday, Lopez, the elder Calabrese's lawyer, told reporters that his client had not been fazed by the son's testimony. "He's happy to see his son," Lopez said.

Asked why the elder Calabrese appeared to be smiling during parts of his son's testimony, Lopez replied, "He's a happy-go-lucky fellow." But another government witness Tuesday painted a starkly different portrait of the elder Calabrese. James Stolfe, the soft-spoken co-founder of the well-known Connie's Pizza restaurant chain, said he made "extortion payments" to Frank Calabrese Sr. and the Chicago Outfit for 20 years beginning in the 1980s.

Stolfe said he sold his 1962 Oldsmobile Starfire to buy his first Connie's location on West 26th Street near Chinatown, and he operated for nearly two decades before the mob paid a visit. Stolfe said he thought the two men, one large and one small, were salesmen, but he quickly learned differently.

Stolfe didn't have time to talk, he said he told them. "They said, 'Find time,'" he said.

The two demanded $300,000 -- or else, Stolfe testified. "They said that it was no joke, and if I didn't pay that I was gonna get hurt," he said.

Stolfe said he went to Calabrese, whom he knew from the Bridgeport neighborhood where the two had grown up, to intercede on his behalf. Strangely enough, Stolfe said, Calabrese had just been to his office for the first time in years, the only hint in Tuesday's testimony that Calabrese was in on the extortion from the beginning.

Calabrese said he would see what he could do, Stolfe said, and soon said the payment "only" had to be $100,000. Fearing that he could be beaten or his business burned down, Stolfe said, he agreed to pay. He said he handed over the first payment of $50,000 cash to Calabrese.

That prompted the prosecutor to ask Stolfe if he saw Calabrese in the courtroom. Calabrese, in a gray jacket over a black shirt, didn't stand up but stuck up a hand and waved toward the witness stand as Stolfe pointed him out.

The white-haired Stolfe, 67, said he confided in only his close associate, Donald "Captain D" DiFazio, about the payoffs, keeping even his wife in the dark.

Stolfe said he eventually put Calabrese on the payroll as a "spotter," ostensibly to keeptrack of pizza delivery trucks. In reality, it was to hide the monthly payoffs of about $1,000.

Stolfe acknowledged Tuesday that he had lied to a grand jury investigating Calabrese in 1990, concealing the nature of the payoffs to Calabrese and his relationship with the reputed mobster. He told jurors Tuesday that he had been intimidated by Calabrese. Stolfe said Calabrese even invited himself on his family vacations.

On cross-examination, attorney Lopez tried to portray the two as pals. "Did anyone put a gun to your head and say you had to go play handball with him?" Lopez asked.

The attorney pointed out that when Stolfe halted the payoffs in 2002 when the Family Secrets investigation became public, no one burned down a Connie's Pizza restaurant. Prosecutors also called DiFazio to the stand, who testified that he carried the payoffs to the mob for years. For the final payoffs, DiFazio said, he gave the cash-filled envelopes to Frank Calabrese Jr., who was already wearing a wire for the feds.

DiFazio, testifying with a gravelly voice and heavy Chicago accent, said he is still director of special events for Connie's. "I'm supposed to be at Taste of Chicago," he said.

He said he still lives in Bridgeport and described each mob figure he testified about as "another tough guy."

He said he was once confronted by Anthony "Tony the Hatch" Chiaramonti when Connie's sought to open a location in Lyons. Those plans were scrapped, DiFazio said. "The name speaks for itself," he said of Chiaramonti, who was gunned down at a chicken restaurant in the suburb in 2001.

On cross-examination, Lopez sometimes made small talk with DiFazio, who wore an expensive-looking suit. The attorney, who had exchanged his trademark pink socks for red ones Tuesday to match a blazing red tie, said he had heard DiFazio is a sharp dresser.

"You were a tough guy, too, weren't you?" Lopez asked. "The whole neighborhood was filled with tough guys."

DiFazio finally gave in. "Absolutely," he said.

Thanks to Jeff Coen

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Bookie Refuses to Testify in Court Against the Mob

A host of hit men, henchmen, burglars, gamblers and loan sharks who have crossed paths with the Chicago Outfit over the years are scheduled to testify at the Family Secrets mob trial, but at least one career bookie wants to take a pass.

Joel Glickman, 71, was taken into custody late Monday after defying an order from U.S. District Judge James Zagel to testify. Glickman had been slated to tell jurors that he paid between $1,300 and $2,000 a month in "street taxes" to defendant Frank Calabrese Sr. and other reputed mob figures to run his gambling operation.

Zagel reminded Glickman, who wore a black short-sleeve shirt unbuttoned at the neck, that he had been granted immunity from prosecution to talk about his history with the mob, but Glickman was steadfast in his refusal to answer any questions posed by Assistant U.S. Atty. Markus Funk.

"I respectfully refuse to testify," Glickman said calmly several times before Zagel found him in contempt of court and ordered him taken into custody. Zagel warned he would bring Glickman back to the courtroom Tuesday to ask him again whether he wishes to answer questions.

Loraine Ray, Glickman's attorney, declined to comment on her client's reasons to remain mum despite immunity. According to documents filed by prosecutors in the case, Glickman was to testify that he had dozens of gamblers as regular customers in the 1970s and made about $150,000 a year.

If Glickman continues to refuse to testify, Zagel could arguably hold him in custody throughout the expected three-month trial, if not longer, legal experts said.

After court Monday, Calabrese's attorney, Joseph Lopez, said Glickman has "no reason whatsoever" to fear his client. The relationship between the men ended in the 1960s, Lopez said. "I hope he changes his mind and comes to court," Lopez said. "I hate to see the man locked up for this."

Before Glickman's exchange with the judge, jurors did hear from a number of witnesses Monday, all of them testifying against Joey "the Clown" Lombardo, who is among the five defendants being tried on sweeping charges of racketeering conspiracy.

At the heart of the conspiracy case are 18 decades-old gangland slayings. But despite that, the trial isn't expected to produce many "CSI" moments.

Key evidence will come mostly from witnesses and secret government recordings, not the advanced scientific analysis of DNA, ballistics or fiber evidence. Yet jurors looked on Monday as an old-fashioned fingerprint was projected onto a large screen at the front of the courtroom.

It appeared on a copy of a title application for a 1973 Ford LTD, signed for by the generic-sounding ACME Security Service. But under the "Se" in "Service," investigators say, is a print from the left middle finger of Lombardo. And the car in question was one of two allegedly driven from the scene of the murder of federal witness Daniel Seifert. The shotgun slaying in front of Seifert's wife and young son is the lone murder with which the reputed Outfit leader has been charged.

The FBI agent who found the print more than three decades ago was on the stand. He's now a thin, retired, white-haired man who keeps busy with "a little bit of farming."

Roy McDaniel told jurors he is a former supervising fingerprint specialist with the FBI who has made "several million" comparisons. He said he had 40 years of experience, testified in court nearly 100 times and even played a role on the FBI's disaster team that processes prints at the scenes of plane crashes and other disasters.

McDaniel testified about his work with a hint of a Southern accent. "You have [fingerprints] before you were born, and you will have them until you decompose after death," he said.

McDaniel said he took control of more than a dozen documents related to the Ford LTD that were retrieved from the Illinois secretary of state's office in Springfield and sent to Washington D.C. It was October 1974, about a month after Seifert had been ambushed and gunned down outside his Bensenville plastics business. Seifert had agreed to testify against Lombardo and others in a pension fraud case months before he was killed.

McDaniel told the jury how he sprayed the title application with a solution, dried it and then steamed it to make latent prints visible. The marks left on the document by a finger's friction ridges matched a finger on FBI fingerprint card 673515E, the one carrying the prints of Lombardo, McDaniel said.

"Only that one finger, of everybody in the world, could've made that particular print," McDaniel said as jurors watched the overhead screen or on their own TV screens near their seats.

On cross-examination McDaniel acknowledged that he had only attempted to match the print to the defendants in the case who Seifert was set to testify against.

Lombardo leaned back in his chair most of the day, occasionally standing so witnesses could identify him. To some he returned a nod or even a hand wave as he sat back down.

Others who testified included several former employees of a North Side CB radio store who told jurors that in the months after Seifert's death, they told authorities that Lombardo had routinely bought police scanners from them before the murder. A scanner was found in the Ford after the gunmen abandoned it at a car dealership.

Thanks to Jeff Coen

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