q1903 On November 18, 1978, at 5:30 in the afternoon, Mickey Spillane was walking to his car in Woodside, Queens, when a man stepped out from behind a parked sedan and opened fire. Four rounds at point-blank range. Spillane dropped on the sidewalk outside his apartment building, bleeding out in front of neighbors who pretended they … Read more
On January 21, 1986, a federal jury in Kansas City, Missouri, returned guilty verdicts on all eight counts against five of the most powerful mob figures in the American Midwest. The courtroom sat on the fourth floor of the Charles Evans Whittaker United States Courthouse, and the jury had deliberated for four days. At the … Read more
Le jour où ma fille m’a appelée pour me dire qu’elle venait avec tout le monde pour les fêtes, j’ai d’abord cru qu’elle parlait d’elle et de son mari. J’aurais dû me méfier de ce mot, « tout le monde », parce que dans la bouche de ma fille, il n’a jamais signifié deux personnes. … Read more
On August 29, 1981, Benjamin "Lefty" Ruggiero received a call he understood completely. In the Bonanno crime family, a man who vouches for someone who turns out to be an FBI agent does not get a conversation. He gets a meeting. And meetings like that one had a known outcome. Ruggiero got dressed. He had … Read more
On the morning of December 19, 1983, FBI special agent Michael Wax stood inside the counting room of the Tropicana in Las Vegas. Technicians were dismantling a hidden microphone system that had recorded every word spoken there for three years. The spreadsheets in front of him documented something unprecedented. The Kansas City mob had skimmed … Read more
Je noue les lacets de mes bottes à semelle renforcée, la seule paire qui ne me massacrait pas les genoux après une longue journée, et je restai planté devant le miroir de la salle de bain plus longtemps que nécessaire. J’ai passé la main dans mes cheveux gris, tiré sur les poignets de ma chemise … Read more
La première chose que ma belle-mère m’a dite, ce jour-là, ce fut : « Signe ça. » J’étais debout à côté du cercueil de ma fille, respirant à peine, quand elle a posé des papiers de divorce dans mes mains tremblantes. Puis elle a murmuré : « Tu ne fais plus partie de cette famille. … Read more
Ero in piedi nella mia cucina, quella che avevo piastrellato con le mie mani trentadue anni prima, quella con la crepa vicino alla finestra che mio marito aveva sempre promesso di aggiustare e non aveva mai aggiustato. Quando mia nuora mi guardò da sopra il piano della cucina e disse: “Abbiamo bisogno che smetta di … Read more
On January 13, 1947, an old man died of natural causes in a quiet Brooklyn apartment. He was 69 years old, with thin hair and sunken cheeks. There were no bullets, no bombs, no federal indictment. Just an old man in a chair. His name was Ignazio Saietta. He was known as Lupo the Wolf. … Read more
Il campanello suonò due volte prima che controllassi la telecamera. Nessuno doveva sapere che possedevo quella casa. Avevo firmato l’atto solo tre giorni prima. Le tende erano ancora nella loro confezione. La cucina profumava di vernice fresca. Ero nel corridoio quando il telefono vibrò. Era il mio vicino. “C’è qualcuno alla tua porta. ” Aprii … Read more