In the Operation Family Secrets mob trial today, a Chicago Police officer admitted that he had a year's-long relationship with top ranking members of the Chicago outfit.
Former Chicago cop Anthony Doyle is one of the five men charged with outfit crimes in Operation Family Secrets. While many Chicago Police officers moonlight to supplement their city salaries, federal prosecutors say Doyle's side job was with the outfit as a loan shark and an informant, that he gave mob bosses inside police department information about evidence in a gangland murder.
Former Chicago policeman Anthony Doyle arrived for court knowing that today's cross-examination by federal prosecutors would be out to make him look like a "chumbalone." That is an Italian slang word for idiot, or dummy, and on the witness stand this afternoon was the word that Doyle himself used to describe his motivation for the tough-guy conversations he was recorded having with Chicago outfit bosses.
The jury has seen and heard the FBI surveillance tapes of Officer Doyle meeting with mob rackets boss Frank Calabrese Senior while Calabrese was serving time for extortion at the federal prison in Milan, Michigan.
Prosecutors say that Officer Doyle provided Calabrese information about police evidence in the 1986 mob hit on John Fecarota, a killing carried out by Calabrese's brother Nick. At the time, Officer Doyle was working in the police evidence section.
Doyle today said his conversations with Calabrese during prison visits were: "mind-boggling gibberish. I don't know what's being talked about."
Then he claimed that he was just giving Calabrese "lip service...I don't want to look like a chumbalone," said Doyle, who is of Italian heritage but changed his last name to the Irish Doyle when he took the police exam.
Doyle tried to explain why he visited a mob boss in prison when police rules prohibit such contacts with felons.
"You knew Frank Calabrese Senior was an outfit boss. Didn't you?" asked prosecutor T. Marcus Funk.
"No sir," replied Doyle. "I knew him as a loan shark and bookmaker for the Chicago outfit."
Then later in the day, Funk asked him: "You knew that Mr. Calabrese was an outfit man when you visited him in prison, didn't you?"
Doyle, backed into a corner, admitted "Yes, sir" he knew the obvious.
Thanks to Chuck Goudie
Saturday, August 25, 2007
America's Most Wanted on The Chicago Syndicate for 8/25
Paul Eischeid: The ATF and police in Tempe , Ariz. have charged outlaw biker Paul Eischeid with an act of savagery in the desert. They say he killed a woman who visited a Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club in 2003. Now, they need your help to get their hands on him.
East Coast Bandits: First, it was a bank in Chicopee , Mass. Then, Cranston , R.I. Now, the FBI says the same group of thugs has robbed a bank on New York ’s Long Island . Investigators say these guys are dangerous – and they’re wielding some big weapons. Check out AMW.com to learn more about where they could be hiding out now. Then, tune in this week to help us bring these bandits down.
Operation Falcon 2007: AMW has teamed up with the U.S. Marshals Service for the third year in a row running a dragnet operation designed to round up as many wanted fugitives as possible. The nationwide sting -- known as Operation Falcon -- has seen great success in years past, and this year cops expect much of the same. Two of the Marshal’s Top 15 are known to have close ties with the biker community, and this Saturday night, AMW correspondent John Turchin will take you to Sturgis , S.D. for one of the biggest biker rallies in the world. Tune in, and help us put away a few bad news bikers.
Michael Alexander: It took two tries to find Michael Alexander but NYPD has finally got him. An AMW tipster first told police that Michael Alexander was hiding out in a Brooklyn apartment. When police went to get him on May 29, 2007, they could smell the marijuana coming from his room, but Alexander had already jumped out the window. It took authorities another day to catch up to him. Alexander put up his hands and told police,"I'm tired of running."
Carl Dinatale: Police say Carl Dinatale isn't the most creative felon in the world, and that he allegedly robbed dozens of jewelry stores all along the East Coast. But thanks to great police work and some help from AMW, the crooked thief is behind bars.
Vincent Ledoux: For ten years, Vincent Ledoux was able to hide out and make a new life for himself. But thanks to an AMW viewer, the accused sexual predator is in custody, and AMW was there for the takedown. Tune in this Saturday night for the full story on our 945th direct-result capture.
Raymond Gates: With the help of an AMW tipster, Raymond Gates is finally in police custody. New Mexico cops collaborated with the U.S. Marshals in Texas to take down the wanted sex offender on June 26, 2007, making him direct capture #950.
Jose Perez: In December 2004, after a night of partying and drinking - a regular occurrence in the Perez household - Ingrid went to her room to go to bed, cops say. But, a few hours later, Ingrid woke up and her father was in her room. Cops say what happened next is one of the most tragic crimes in America .
Jenna Nielsen Killer: The search continues for Jenna Nielsen's killer. When we first aired her story, tips streamed into our hotline. One in particular stood out. Police in Mississippi had arrested a perp known as the "Baby-Face Rapist". His resemblance to the Raleigh composite sketch is uncanny - close enough to warrant a trip to follow this compelling lead. This week, we need your help to get justice for the Nielsen family.
Chi Du: When a jealous ex spotted his former girlfriend with another man, he decided that if he couldn't have her, then no one would. Police say a brutal attack soon followed, and Chi Du left two stunned victims behind.
Stanley Obas: Pennsylvania detectives haven't given up tracking down a man accused of torturing and murdering a 13-year-old girl, then burying her body in a cemetery 11 years ago. This Saturday, we need your help to put him away for good.
East Coast Bandits: First, it was a bank in Chicopee , Mass. Then, Cranston , R.I. Now, the FBI says the same group of thugs has robbed a bank on New York ’s Long Island . Investigators say these guys are dangerous – and they’re wielding some big weapons. Check out AMW.com to learn more about where they could be hiding out now. Then, tune in this week to help us bring these bandits down.
Operation Falcon 2007: AMW has teamed up with the U.S. Marshals Service for the third year in a row running a dragnet operation designed to round up as many wanted fugitives as possible. The nationwide sting -- known as Operation Falcon -- has seen great success in years past, and this year cops expect much of the same. Two of the Marshal’s Top 15 are known to have close ties with the biker community, and this Saturday night, AMW correspondent John Turchin will take you to Sturgis , S.D. for one of the biggest biker rallies in the world. Tune in, and help us put away a few bad news bikers.
Michael Alexander: It took two tries to find Michael Alexander but NYPD has finally got him. An AMW tipster first told police that Michael Alexander was hiding out in a Brooklyn apartment. When police went to get him on May 29, 2007, they could smell the marijuana coming from his room, but Alexander had already jumped out the window. It took authorities another day to catch up to him. Alexander put up his hands and told police,"I'm tired of running."
Carl Dinatale: Police say Carl Dinatale isn't the most creative felon in the world, and that he allegedly robbed dozens of jewelry stores all along the East Coast. But thanks to great police work and some help from AMW, the crooked thief is behind bars.
Vincent Ledoux: For ten years, Vincent Ledoux was able to hide out and make a new life for himself. But thanks to an AMW viewer, the accused sexual predator is in custody, and AMW was there for the takedown. Tune in this Saturday night for the full story on our 945th direct-result capture.
Raymond Gates: With the help of an AMW tipster, Raymond Gates is finally in police custody. New Mexico cops collaborated with the U.S. Marshals in Texas to take down the wanted sex offender on June 26, 2007, making him direct capture #950.
Jose Perez: In December 2004, after a night of partying and drinking - a regular occurrence in the Perez household - Ingrid went to her room to go to bed, cops say. But, a few hours later, Ingrid woke up and her father was in her room. Cops say what happened next is one of the most tragic crimes in America .
Jenna Nielsen Killer: The search continues for Jenna Nielsen's killer. When we first aired her story, tips streamed into our hotline. One in particular stood out. Police in Mississippi had arrested a perp known as the "Baby-Face Rapist". His resemblance to the Raleigh composite sketch is uncanny - close enough to warrant a trip to follow this compelling lead. This week, we need your help to get justice for the Nielsen family.
Chi Du: When a jealous ex spotted his former girlfriend with another man, he decided that if he couldn't have her, then no one would. Police say a brutal attack soon followed, and Chi Du left two stunned victims behind.
Stanley Obas: Pennsylvania detectives haven't given up tracking down a man accused of torturing and murdering a 13-year-old girl, then burying her body in a cemetery 11 years ago. This Saturday, we need your help to put him away for good.
Friday, August 24, 2007
The Clown goes verbal to deny he’s Keyser Soze
Reputed top mobster Lombardo makes high risk gambit
By Josh Casey
In a move that radically departed from mob courtroom strategies of thirty years or more, Joseph ‘The Clown’ Lombardo, reputed mobster and, moreover, widely alleged to be the hidden boss of the Chicago Outfit, took the stand in his own defense.
Mob boss 1982? or Keyser Soze 2006?
What makes Lombardo’s appearance on the stand highly unusual is that for decades, alleged mobsters have relied upon the maxim that silence is golden. In other words, you can’t get caught out if you don’t speak out. That, along with leaving the prosecution to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt without the assistance of self-incrimination has become standard practice for all mobsters, and especially those with most to lose, the bosses. Another factor in that strategy has been that most often the cases were slam-dunks anyway, so little was to be gained but much more could be lost by being tripped-up by cross examination.
What makes a difference in the Family Secrets trial (the name originating from the FBI code name for the investigation) as far as Lombardo is concerned is twofold. First, most of the evidence against him is historical; he had previously been found guilty in two federal trials in the 1980s and duly served his time.
Secondly, much of the accusations against him in the Family Secrets case have been circumstantial and/or based on anecdotal accounts and rumor bordering at times on folklore. Witnesses, mostly criminals or associates, and most with an axe to grind, expressed mostly hearsay reports of his alleged culpability in this or that, or of him being the fiendish mastermind behind the Outfit.
There has barely been any of the ‘hard evidence’ normally required for murder trials, indeed, one of the most emotive accusations - that by the former wife of Daniel Seifert, who was shot to death in 1974 - was starkly undermined by the very star witness widely expected to confirm Lombardo’s guilt: ‘made’ Outfit member, Nicholas Calabrese.
It had long been speculated that Lombardo was one of the masked killers of Daniel Seifert, and the former Mrs. Seifert gave evidence earlier in the trial that she believed the man who delivered the coup de grace was Lombardo, based on her personal familiarity with him as a family friend at the time – citing his height and build, and in particular that he was ‘light on his feet’, remarking that Joseph Lombardo had once been a boxer and was very nimble on his feet also.
Calabrese, however, revealed his knowledge to be that Joseph (Joey) Hansen, a now deceased member of Tony Spilotro’s street crew of that time, fired the fatal shot. Allegedly, Seifert was killed because he was due to give evidence implicating Lombardo and Spilotro (also alleged to have been among the masked killers) in an impending fraud trial; hence a Spilotro henchman being the culprit would have as much logic as any other scenario. The defense also called a former FBI agent who told how Mrs. Seifert offered no such information at any time during the original investigation.
It can only be a matter of speculation whether Rick Halprin, Lombardo’s wily and respected attorney, announced that he was putting his client on the stand as a sign of confidence or of desperation, but it was a considerably risky gambit.
The current trial, it can be argued, has produced little beyond material already used in the 1980s trials, for which Mr. Lombardo has already paid his debt. Since then he has taken the eccentrically bizarre step (he’s not called the clown for nothing) upon his release in 1992 of publicly renouncing any involvement in organized crime via an advertisement in the Chicago Tribune. Since then, he has been accused of no further crimes, regardless of the widespread belief in some quarters that he is the clandestine Eminence Grise of the Outfit.
Suspicion, anecdote and accusation, and especially hearsay, are not usually regarded as evidence, and few of these charges would seem likely to hold water anywhere beyond the U.S. Title 18, chapter 96, so-called RICO statutes where the establishment of a criminal enterprise is the primary requirement. Under this amorphous definition, the alleged collective crimes required to be proven to qualify the enterprise often seem to suffer from a lower, hazier level of scrutiny, a kind of sub-prime justice.
In other words, if you throw enough shocking photographs of disfigured remains, and the tawdry usual suspects point fingers alleging that this man is the Outfit’s Keyser Soze, and that guy cut people’s throats (true though any of it might be), combined with endless tales of beaten up bookies, extortion, killings, bombings and mayhem in general, and all the names can be joined up from time to time, then bundle it all up together, the mud sticks in the minds of juries, without each component being tried to the normally necessary standards of proof as when a single charge.
While the prosecution scored no direct hits on Lombardo (in fact the prosecution have signally failed to live up to the pre-trial ballyhoo and nail anything of substance to its primary target) with its opening evidence, significant circumstantial mud was spattered and Lombardo’s team have decided he is best placed to rid himself of it. A likely tactic always was for him to deny any association with any criminal enterprise since his release in 1992, something the cold record might seem to support, and that to penalize him for past misdeeds would be tantamount to double jeopardy. And any conclusion implied that he is still involved simply because he discussed the Spilotro killings while in the dentist’s chair of their brother, whom he had known for decades, seemed tenuous, to say the least, and even a finger print on a document might not necessarily construe that he pulled a trigger, at least not this time.
The greatest danger for defendants with a long past of criminal association taking the stand is that whatever they say opens the door for the prosecution to dissect all that they utter, and any topic introduced means that topic is then fair game. And if a defendant’s history is long enough, and Lombardo is now 78 years old, that is a lot of topics to avoid and protect from slip-up and errors brought about by the intense probing, and preparation, of the prosecutors. And Lombardo could be certain that those U.S. Attorneys did not get the last couple of weekends off.
His gambit was highly risky, but time and the jury will tell if it paid off. On the other hand, the U.S. attorney’s case has looked sadly anemic in places, and perhaps Lombardo and Halprin did not think there was too much to worry about, so could afford to try to swing the jury to thinking he is a kindly, humorous retired senior citizen, who has left a regrettable past far behind. He’s not called the clown for nothing. But Lombardo better than most should appreciate what the word gambit really means, as its roots, like his own, are Italian. It derives from Gambetto, and means ‘tripping up’ and that can hobble you for life.
By Josh Casey
In a move that radically departed from mob courtroom strategies of thirty years or more, Joseph ‘The Clown’ Lombardo, reputed mobster and, moreover, widely alleged to be the hidden boss of the Chicago Outfit, took the stand in his own defense.
Mob boss 1982? or Keyser Soze 2006?
What makes Lombardo’s appearance on the stand highly unusual is that for decades, alleged mobsters have relied upon the maxim that silence is golden. In other words, you can’t get caught out if you don’t speak out. That, along with leaving the prosecution to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt without the assistance of self-incrimination has become standard practice for all mobsters, and especially those with most to lose, the bosses. Another factor in that strategy has been that most often the cases were slam-dunks anyway, so little was to be gained but much more could be lost by being tripped-up by cross examination.
What makes a difference in the Family Secrets trial (the name originating from the FBI code name for the investigation) as far as Lombardo is concerned is twofold. First, most of the evidence against him is historical; he had previously been found guilty in two federal trials in the 1980s and duly served his time.
Secondly, much of the accusations against him in the Family Secrets case have been circumstantial and/or based on anecdotal accounts and rumor bordering at times on folklore. Witnesses, mostly criminals or associates, and most with an axe to grind, expressed mostly hearsay reports of his alleged culpability in this or that, or of him being the fiendish mastermind behind the Outfit.
There has barely been any of the ‘hard evidence’ normally required for murder trials, indeed, one of the most emotive accusations - that by the former wife of Daniel Seifert, who was shot to death in 1974 - was starkly undermined by the very star witness widely expected to confirm Lombardo’s guilt: ‘made’ Outfit member, Nicholas Calabrese.
It had long been speculated that Lombardo was one of the masked killers of Daniel Seifert, and the former Mrs. Seifert gave evidence earlier in the trial that she believed the man who delivered the coup de grace was Lombardo, based on her personal familiarity with him as a family friend at the time – citing his height and build, and in particular that he was ‘light on his feet’, remarking that Joseph Lombardo had once been a boxer and was very nimble on his feet also.
Calabrese, however, revealed his knowledge to be that Joseph (Joey) Hansen, a now deceased member of Tony Spilotro’s street crew of that time, fired the fatal shot. Allegedly, Seifert was killed because he was due to give evidence implicating Lombardo and Spilotro (also alleged to have been among the masked killers) in an impending fraud trial; hence a Spilotro henchman being the culprit would have as much logic as any other scenario. The defense also called a former FBI agent who told how Mrs. Seifert offered no such information at any time during the original investigation.
It can only be a matter of speculation whether Rick Halprin, Lombardo’s wily and respected attorney, announced that he was putting his client on the stand as a sign of confidence or of desperation, but it was a considerably risky gambit.
The current trial, it can be argued, has produced little beyond material already used in the 1980s trials, for which Mr. Lombardo has already paid his debt. Since then he has taken the eccentrically bizarre step (he’s not called the clown for nothing) upon his release in 1992 of publicly renouncing any involvement in organized crime via an advertisement in the Chicago Tribune. Since then, he has been accused of no further crimes, regardless of the widespread belief in some quarters that he is the clandestine Eminence Grise of the Outfit.
Suspicion, anecdote and accusation, and especially hearsay, are not usually regarded as evidence, and few of these charges would seem likely to hold water anywhere beyond the U.S. Title 18, chapter 96, so-called RICO statutes where the establishment of a criminal enterprise is the primary requirement. Under this amorphous definition, the alleged collective crimes required to be proven to qualify the enterprise often seem to suffer from a lower, hazier level of scrutiny, a kind of sub-prime justice.
In other words, if you throw enough shocking photographs of disfigured remains, and the tawdry usual suspects point fingers alleging that this man is the Outfit’s Keyser Soze, and that guy cut people’s throats (true though any of it might be), combined with endless tales of beaten up bookies, extortion, killings, bombings and mayhem in general, and all the names can be joined up from time to time, then bundle it all up together, the mud sticks in the minds of juries, without each component being tried to the normally necessary standards of proof as when a single charge.
While the prosecution scored no direct hits on Lombardo (in fact the prosecution have signally failed to live up to the pre-trial ballyhoo and nail anything of substance to its primary target) with its opening evidence, significant circumstantial mud was spattered and Lombardo’s team have decided he is best placed to rid himself of it. A likely tactic always was for him to deny any association with any criminal enterprise since his release in 1992, something the cold record might seem to support, and that to penalize him for past misdeeds would be tantamount to double jeopardy. And any conclusion implied that he is still involved simply because he discussed the Spilotro killings while in the dentist’s chair of their brother, whom he had known for decades, seemed tenuous, to say the least, and even a finger print on a document might not necessarily construe that he pulled a trigger, at least not this time.
The greatest danger for defendants with a long past of criminal association taking the stand is that whatever they say opens the door for the prosecution to dissect all that they utter, and any topic introduced means that topic is then fair game. And if a defendant’s history is long enough, and Lombardo is now 78 years old, that is a lot of topics to avoid and protect from slip-up and errors brought about by the intense probing, and preparation, of the prosecutors. And Lombardo could be certain that those U.S. Attorneys did not get the last couple of weekends off.
His gambit was highly risky, but time and the jury will tell if it paid off. On the other hand, the U.S. attorney’s case has looked sadly anemic in places, and perhaps Lombardo and Halprin did not think there was too much to worry about, so could afford to try to swing the jury to thinking he is a kindly, humorous retired senior citizen, who has left a regrettable past far behind. He’s not called the clown for nothing. But Lombardo better than most should appreciate what the word gambit really means, as its roots, like his own, are Italian. It derives from Gambetto, and means ‘tripping up’ and that can hobble you for life.
Third Defendant Testifies at Mob Trial
Former Chicago police officer Anthony Doyle took the stand Wednesday to deny he ever helped the mob by passing along sensitive information about a mob murder.
Doyle, who was born Anthony Passafiume, is accused of using his position as an officer in the evidence room of the Chicago Police Department to check on the status of blood-soaked gloves worn by mobster Nick Calabrese in the slaying of John Fecarotta. What he found, prosecutors allege, is that the gloves had been turned over to FBI investigators, sealing Nick Calabrese's fate and forcing him down the road of mob informant. Feds have Doyle on video and audiotape visiting mobster Frank Calabrese Sr., Nick's brother, in prison. On the tapes, he tells the Calabrese one of the dates in the file on the gloves.
Doyle, being led through testimony by his attorney, Ralph Meczyk, began Wednesday to try to explain how that happened.
He is the third defendant in the mob conspiracy case to take the stand in his defense. The other two were Joseph Lombardo of Chicago and Frank Calabrese Sr. of Oak Brook. James Marcello of Lombard and Paul Schiro of Arizona are not expected to testify.
Doyle maintained that he knew Frank Calabrese Sr. since he was a young man and met him growing up. The two began an association based on a mutual love of athletics, Doyle said. Doyle hadn't seen Frank Calabrese Sr. for years when he began visiting a federal penitentiary in Milan, Mich., where another friend of Doyle's was incarcerated.
Doyle, apparently in an attempt to show he wasn't hiding anything in the visits, testified he had to fill out an application with the Bureau of Prisons, listing his employer, in order to visit.
Doyle's incarcerated friend mentioned his visit to Frank Calabrese Sr., who passed along word that he wanted to see his old friend, Doyle testified. "He'd (Calabrese) been my friend since I was a young boy. I thought maybe he was in need of a friend … so I agreed to go up and visit him in Milan," Doyle said.
Calabrese Sr. arranged for him to drive up with Mike Ricci, another former police officer indicted in the case. Ricci died of natural causes before trial.
Once at the prison, Doyle said, Calabrese Sr. and Ricci began speaking in a confusing lingo he didn't understand. "He spoke now more in some sort of a mind-boggling code," Doyle testified. But Meczyk didn't ask why Doyle never asked the two why they were speaking in code or what it meant.
Instead, he steered Doyle toward recalling why he looked up information on the gloves. Ricci, a fellow cop, had called and asked him for the information, Doyle testified. And why, then, did Doyle relay a date from the file to Calabrese, Sr. on a separate visit, Meczyk asked.
Ricci, Doyle claimed, asked Doyle to, saying Ricci had told Calabrese, Sr. once, but Calabrese Sr. believed Ricci was senile.
Meczyk will continue his questioning of Doyle today, and then prosecutors will cross-examine him.
Thanks to Rob Olmstead
Doyle, who was born Anthony Passafiume, is accused of using his position as an officer in the evidence room of the Chicago Police Department to check on the status of blood-soaked gloves worn by mobster Nick Calabrese in the slaying of John Fecarotta. What he found, prosecutors allege, is that the gloves had been turned over to FBI investigators, sealing Nick Calabrese's fate and forcing him down the road of mob informant. Feds have Doyle on video and audiotape visiting mobster Frank Calabrese Sr., Nick's brother, in prison. On the tapes, he tells the Calabrese one of the dates in the file on the gloves.
Doyle, being led through testimony by his attorney, Ralph Meczyk, began Wednesday to try to explain how that happened.
He is the third defendant in the mob conspiracy case to take the stand in his defense. The other two were Joseph Lombardo of Chicago and Frank Calabrese Sr. of Oak Brook. James Marcello of Lombard and Paul Schiro of Arizona are not expected to testify.
Doyle maintained that he knew Frank Calabrese Sr. since he was a young man and met him growing up. The two began an association based on a mutual love of athletics, Doyle said. Doyle hadn't seen Frank Calabrese Sr. for years when he began visiting a federal penitentiary in Milan, Mich., where another friend of Doyle's was incarcerated.
Doyle, apparently in an attempt to show he wasn't hiding anything in the visits, testified he had to fill out an application with the Bureau of Prisons, listing his employer, in order to visit.
Doyle's incarcerated friend mentioned his visit to Frank Calabrese Sr., who passed along word that he wanted to see his old friend, Doyle testified. "He'd (Calabrese) been my friend since I was a young boy. I thought maybe he was in need of a friend … so I agreed to go up and visit him in Milan," Doyle said.
Calabrese Sr. arranged for him to drive up with Mike Ricci, another former police officer indicted in the case. Ricci died of natural causes before trial.
Once at the prison, Doyle said, Calabrese Sr. and Ricci began speaking in a confusing lingo he didn't understand. "He spoke now more in some sort of a mind-boggling code," Doyle testified. But Meczyk didn't ask why Doyle never asked the two why they were speaking in code or what it meant.
Instead, he steered Doyle toward recalling why he looked up information on the gloves. Ricci, a fellow cop, had called and asked him for the information, Doyle testified. And why, then, did Doyle relay a date from the file to Calabrese, Sr. on a separate visit, Meczyk asked.
Ricci, Doyle claimed, asked Doyle to, saying Ricci had told Calabrese, Sr. once, but Calabrese Sr. believed Ricci was senile.
Meczyk will continue his questioning of Doyle today, and then prosecutors will cross-examine him.
Thanks to Rob Olmstead
Family Secrets Doctor is No McDreamy
"She's gotta get blood work, she's gotta get this before she sees the doctor."
"Oh, all right."
That's not some heated exchange on "House," because the doctor in this show isn't the sarcastic fellow with the cane on TV. And it's not "Grey's Anatomy" either, another doctor show favored by female viewers, where the male lead is nicknamed Dr. McDreamy by the steamy female staff.
No one would say the doctor referenced above is Dr. McDreamy. You wouldn't call him that. The Doctor McDreamy in "Grey's Anatomy" is a pretty boy. He would never sell pork chop sangwiches on 31st Street in the 11th Ward.
"The Doctor" is Outfit code in the historic Family Secrets federal criminal case against the Chicago mob. There've been so many nicknames lately, even I can't keep them straight, and neither can the witnesses.
Unlike other doctors, this one wasn't board certified. Law enforcement officials say he got his trauma license from Joe the Builder and from some guy named Johnny Bananas.
We'll hear more about the doctor in court on Thursday. He'll be identified as a certain Dr. Toots, who practices everywhere he wishes, when the exchange about the doctor and blood work will be played along with other FBI recordings.
The star of Thursday's show will be Anthony "Twan" Doyle, the former Chicago police officer and 11th Ward Democratic precinct captain who worked in the evidence room of the Chicago Police Department. He'll be cross-examined by federal prosecutors.
Doyle is accused of warning the Outfit's Chinatown crew that the FBI was seeking a key piece of evidence in the Outfit killing of mobster John Fecarotta. The tapes incriminate him. The key evidence was a glove that was worn by confessed hit man Nicholas Calabrese, the guy I told you about in this column years ago now, when the Family Secrets case began, as Nick slipped into the witness protection program to become the linchpin in this fantastic trial.
Testifying in his own defense Wednesday, Doyle said that he regularly visited Calabrese's brother and co-defendant, Chinatown no-neck Frank Calabrese Sr., in the federal prison in Milan, Mich. He felt sorry for Frank, who had family problems, and who helped him develop big muscles as a lad.
Doyle testified he'd drive up to prison with another of Chicago law enforcement's finest -- the late Michael Ricci -- a homicide detective who changed jobs to run the sensitive Cook County sheriff's home-monitoring program.
Who was it that said good government is good politics? It was probably some 11th Warder who knew how to find Chinatown.
On Wednesday, Doyle testified he suffered through these prison visits with Frank Calabrese, fetching sangwiches, listening to nonsensical coded talk he said he couldn't understand, for hour after hour, nodding dumbly but politely during the yapping about doctors and sisters and missing purses and "Scarpe Grande" finding those purses.
Scarpe Grande means "Big Shoes," Chinatown code for the FBI, and, you may have noticed, it's not Chinese. And "purses" probably means evidence.
Ralph Meczyk, Doyle's attorney, asked Doyle if he felt relieved once these prison visits were done. "I felt like I was paroled," Doyle told the jury. "Sitting in that chair, listening to gibberish I couldn't understand."
He sighed, seeking sympathy, a large man with muscles at 62, with a face like a stone and his voice a heavy door with old hinges. Doyle is not the Officer Friendly you would ask for directions for a pork chop sangwich. But he denied ever collecting juice loans for the Outfit, and insisted he never tipped off the mob about Scarpe Grande seeking the Nick Calabrese bloody glove from the police evidence room in January 1999.
Yet he proudly talked of working for the 11th Ward Democratic Organization, and hopping on the City Hall patronage payroll wagon, first at Streets and San, later running the parking lot at police headquarters and becoming a patrolman.
On Thursday, prosecutors will focus on the Chinatown code to explain their theory that Frank Calabrese was afraid someone close to him might be talking to the feds.
"What they should do is maybe bring her to see a psychiatrist," Calabrese says on tape, speaking of a sick sister, if a sick sister had hairy arms and killed people for money.
"Shock treatment," Doyle says, understanding the prescribed Outfit method to cure Feditis, a malady of the chattering mouth. "Probably needs a good prod."
I don't know how Doyle will deny all this -- and what he says about lead federal prosecutor Mitchell Mars, blaming him for their upset stomachs.
"I said I'll bet you it's that [four letter word]ing Mitch Mars, that's what I think," Doyle tells Calabrese.
"The doctor," says Calabrese.
"The doctor," says Doyle.
I know the doctor from Chinatown isn't McDreamy. But he's got to be mcsteamy right about now.
Thanks to John Kass
"Oh, all right."
That's not some heated exchange on "House," because the doctor in this show isn't the sarcastic fellow with the cane on TV. And it's not "Grey's Anatomy" either, another doctor show favored by female viewers, where the male lead is nicknamed Dr. McDreamy by the steamy female staff.
No one would say the doctor referenced above is Dr. McDreamy. You wouldn't call him that. The Doctor McDreamy in "Grey's Anatomy" is a pretty boy. He would never sell pork chop sangwiches on 31st Street in the 11th Ward.
"The Doctor" is Outfit code in the historic Family Secrets federal criminal case against the Chicago mob. There've been so many nicknames lately, even I can't keep them straight, and neither can the witnesses.
Unlike other doctors, this one wasn't board certified. Law enforcement officials say he got his trauma license from Joe the Builder and from some guy named Johnny Bananas.
We'll hear more about the doctor in court on Thursday. He'll be identified as a certain Dr. Toots, who practices everywhere he wishes, when the exchange about the doctor and blood work will be played along with other FBI recordings.
The star of Thursday's show will be Anthony "Twan" Doyle, the former Chicago police officer and 11th Ward Democratic precinct captain who worked in the evidence room of the Chicago Police Department. He'll be cross-examined by federal prosecutors.
Doyle is accused of warning the Outfit's Chinatown crew that the FBI was seeking a key piece of evidence in the Outfit killing of mobster John Fecarotta. The tapes incriminate him. The key evidence was a glove that was worn by confessed hit man Nicholas Calabrese, the guy I told you about in this column years ago now, when the Family Secrets case began, as Nick slipped into the witness protection program to become the linchpin in this fantastic trial.
Testifying in his own defense Wednesday, Doyle said that he regularly visited Calabrese's brother and co-defendant, Chinatown no-neck Frank Calabrese Sr., in the federal prison in Milan, Mich. He felt sorry for Frank, who had family problems, and who helped him develop big muscles as a lad.
Doyle testified he'd drive up to prison with another of Chicago law enforcement's finest -- the late Michael Ricci -- a homicide detective who changed jobs to run the sensitive Cook County sheriff's home-monitoring program.
Who was it that said good government is good politics? It was probably some 11th Warder who knew how to find Chinatown.
On Wednesday, Doyle testified he suffered through these prison visits with Frank Calabrese, fetching sangwiches, listening to nonsensical coded talk he said he couldn't understand, for hour after hour, nodding dumbly but politely during the yapping about doctors and sisters and missing purses and "Scarpe Grande" finding those purses.
Scarpe Grande means "Big Shoes," Chinatown code for the FBI, and, you may have noticed, it's not Chinese. And "purses" probably means evidence.
Ralph Meczyk, Doyle's attorney, asked Doyle if he felt relieved once these prison visits were done. "I felt like I was paroled," Doyle told the jury. "Sitting in that chair, listening to gibberish I couldn't understand."
He sighed, seeking sympathy, a large man with muscles at 62, with a face like a stone and his voice a heavy door with old hinges. Doyle is not the Officer Friendly you would ask for directions for a pork chop sangwich. But he denied ever collecting juice loans for the Outfit, and insisted he never tipped off the mob about Scarpe Grande seeking the Nick Calabrese bloody glove from the police evidence room in January 1999.
Yet he proudly talked of working for the 11th Ward Democratic Organization, and hopping on the City Hall patronage payroll wagon, first at Streets and San, later running the parking lot at police headquarters and becoming a patrolman.
On Thursday, prosecutors will focus on the Chinatown code to explain their theory that Frank Calabrese was afraid someone close to him might be talking to the feds.
"What they should do is maybe bring her to see a psychiatrist," Calabrese says on tape, speaking of a sick sister, if a sick sister had hairy arms and killed people for money.
"Shock treatment," Doyle says, understanding the prescribed Outfit method to cure Feditis, a malady of the chattering mouth. "Probably needs a good prod."
I don't know how Doyle will deny all this -- and what he says about lead federal prosecutor Mitchell Mars, blaming him for their upset stomachs.
"I said I'll bet you it's that [four letter word]ing Mitch Mars, that's what I think," Doyle tells Calabrese.
"The doctor," says Calabrese.
"The doctor," says Doyle.
I know the doctor from Chinatown isn't McDreamy. But he's got to be mcsteamy right about now.
Thanks to John Kass
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