On the night of February 6, 2001, Constantine “Gus” Boulis, 51, left his Broward County office in Fort Lauderdale and headed south on Miami Road. A car slowed in front of him. Another closed in from behind. Then a black Ford Mustang approached from the opposite direction and pulled up beside his BMW.
Before traffic moved again, the Greek immigrant who had built one of Florida’s most controversial casino empires was dead behind the wheel. Initial headlines described a mob-style hit on a wealthy casino operator. But the public version left out the real story: a $147 million acquisition built on fraudulent financing, a Washington lobbyist with political connections, a former business partner who wanted his company back, and associates of the Gambino crime family who discovered that SunCruz Casinos was paying heavily for something called “security. ”
Everyone involved had a different reason to want control.
Boulis wanted his company back. Adam Kidan wanted Boulis permanently out of its daily operations. Jack Abramoff wanted a casino empire that could expand through his political network. Anthony “Big Tony” Moscatiello and Anthony “Little Tony” Ferrari were receiving large payments from SunCruz.
Somewhere in that collision of money and fear, someone decided that a lawsuit was moving too slowly. Born in Kavala, Greece, in 1949, Boulis was one of four children in a struggling family. He left school as a young teen, went to sea, and eventually reached North America. He settled in Canada, worked in restaurants, and got involved with the Mr.
Submarine sandwich chain. After moving to Florida’s restaurant market, he built Miami Subs Grill, a chain that combined burger, sandwich, pizza, and Greek concepts under one roof. In 1994, he sold it to Canadian company Coco’s Ro for millions in cash and stock. Restaurants were not his ultimate ambition.
Florida strictly limited casino gambling on land, but once a ship reached international waters, passengers could gamble freely. SunCruz Casinos operated “cruises to nowhere”: passengers boarded at a Florida port, the ship sailed beyond state waters, the casino opened, and the vessel returned hours later. At its peak, SunCruz reportedly operated 11 ships from nine ports in Florida and Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, carrying around 2,300 slot machines and 175 gaming tables. The business faced repeated legal pressure.
In 1998, law enforcement seized slot machines, equipment, and hundreds of thousands of dollars from several ships. Boulis fought back in court and survived. Then federal authorities found a different weakness: he was not yet a U. S.
citizen when he acquired stakes in ships that had to be American-owned. In February 2000, he settled, agreeing to pay a fine and give up his stake in SunCruz. He needed a buyer. Jack Abramoff appeared to be an option.
He was not a casino operator but a powerful Washington lobbyist. His business partner in the deal was Adam Kidan, a New York businessman and former college friend. Together they agreed to buy SunCruz in September 2000 for about $147 million. To secure a $60 million loan, they were supposed to prove they had invested $23 million of their own money.
Federal prosecutors later said they used a forged bank transfer document to suggest the down payment had been made. Boulis did not disappear after the sale. He kept a minority stake and remained involved while still being owed significant money. Kidan believed he controlled SunCruz.
Boulis acted like a founder who had never truly let go. Kidan could sign documents; Boulis knew the managers, suppliers, employees, and ports. He had built SunCruz, and he was not ready to stand by while new owners reshaped it. In December 2000, the conflict turned physical.
At a business meeting, Boulis and Kidan fought. Kidan later testified that Boulis threatened to kill him. Boulis’s side accused Kidan and his partners of looting or mismanaging the company. Kidan then sought protection from Anthony Moscatiello, a figure linked to the Gambino crime family.
Kidan later explained he wanted people with organized crime connections to spread the word that he was protected. Moscatiello was brought into SunCruz operations as a food and beverage consultant. Anthony Ferrari became involved in security-related work. Prosecutors and later reports said Moscatiello received about $145,000 from SunCruz, while Ferrari received about $95,000 plus additional benefits.
Boulis objected to these payments. SunCruz was now funding the very man allegedly used to keep him away from his own company. According to trial evidence, the conspiracy developed through surveillance and preparation. James “Buddy” Fiorillo later admitted involvement and testified about watching Boulis.
Prosecutors alleged Moscatiello was at the top of the arrangement. Ferrari helped coordinate the operation. John “J. J.
” Gurino, another figure tied to the Gambino world, was identified by witnesses as a suspected gunman. Gurino was never tried for Boulis’s murder; he was killed in 2003 during an unrelated confrontation with a store owner in Boca Raton. On the night of February 6, a vehicle moved in front of Boulis’s BMW and forced him to slow down. Another blocked his escape from behind.
A black Mustang then approached from the opposite direction and stopped beside him. A gunman fired through the window. Boulis was hit multiple times. His BMW rolled forward and struck another vehicle as the attackers fled.
A witness behind the ambush memorized part of the temporary license plate on the Mustang and called 911. Both the Mustang and a red Volkswagen Jetta were later linked through testimony to Anthony Ferrari. Boulis was taken to Broward General Medical Center, where he died. He left behind children, relatives, employees, and a complex legacy—a man who was aggressive, litigious, and determined to control his business.
The murder did not save SunCruz. Months after Boulis’s death, the company entered bankruptcy. Lawsuits revealed disputed payments and the dubious financing behind the acquisition. Instead of achieving stable control, the ambush turned investigators, journalists, creditors, and Boulis’s estate onto the people who had taken over the company.
The empire everyone had fought to own collapsed under the weight of its own deal. Federal investigators examined the $23 million down payment that existed only on paper. In August 2005, Abramoff and Kidan were charged with fraud related to the SunCruz purchase. Kidan pleaded guilty to conspiracy and wire fraud charges in December of that year.
Abramoff pleaded guilty in January 2006. Their convictions concerned fraudulent financing, not Boulis’s murder. Neither man was charged with involvement in the killing. The murder investigation took a separate path.
In September 2005, more than four years after the ambush, authorities arrested Moscatiello, Ferrari, and Fiorillo. Fiorillo eventually pleaded guilty to conspiracy to commit murder and cooperated with prosecutors. He admitted helping with surveillance and disposing of the murder weapon in Biscayne Bay. In exchange for his testimony, he received a sentence that he had largely already served.
Ferrari went to trial in 2013. Prosecutors argued that the cars used in the ambush belonged to him, that he participated in planning the attack, and that phone records and witness testimony tied him to the conspiracy. A jury convicted him of first-degree murder, and he was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Moscatiello was convicted in 2015, portrayed by prosecutors as the senior figure whose mafia reputation gave the conspiracy its authority.
He was also sentenced to life. That was not the end. In 2018, Florida’s Fourth District Court of Appeal overturned Moscatiello’s conviction. The court ruled that jurors had improperly heard hearsay testimony from a deceased witness about an alleged statement by Gurino suggesting he received the job from Moscatiello.
Ferrari’s conviction was also overturned due to previously undisclosed evidence and the admission of cell phone records obtained without a warrant. The reversals did not declare the men innocent; they said the trials contained serious legal errors requiring new ones. Nearly two decades had passed since Boulis’s death. Witnesses had died, memories had faded, and evidence that once seemed available was now legally restricted.
In January 2022, both men accepted plea deals. Each pleaded guilty to second-degree murder. Moscatiello was sentenced to 10 years; Ferrari received 18 years. With time already served, neither would serve the life sentences originally imposed.
Boulis’s family agreed to the resolution, ending a case that had spanned more than 20 years.