Operation Family Secrets Part 15

Daniel R. Seifert was the man who could connect the dots between the Central States Teamsters Union Pension and Welfare Fund and the Chicago mob. The murder of Seifert outside his Bensenville, Illinois, plastics factory in September 1974 ran markedly against the grain of the usual Outfit killing. The news media jumped on the story because it was a gangland murder of an ordinary businessman who wasn't a mobster. Second, the killing was shocking because it happened in broad daylight, in front of Seifert's wife, Emma, and his four-year-old son Joe.

Throughout 1971 and 1972, Danny Seifert, a high school dropout turned successful entrepreneur, was president of International Fibergla.s.s, Inc., a fibergla.s.s-molding company that was backed by a suspicious group of "investors" that included Irwin "Red" Weiner and Milwaukee Phil Alderisio. Seifert first met Weiner when he did carpentry work for him, and soon he entered into a three-way partners.h.i.+p with Weiner and Alderisio. Later Danny and Joe Lombardo formed a close friends.h.i.+p. The Seiferts were so smitten with the Clown's act that they named their youngest son Joe.

Weiner subsequently sold a portion of his share of the business to Tony Spilotro, Frank Schweihs, Allen Dorfman, and Lombardo. As a no-show employee, Lombardo would come in to hit the heavy bag in the office, crack jokes, and chat on the phone.

Headquartered in Elk Grove Village, International Fibergla.s.s became an Outfit-infiltrated company financed with a loan from the Central States Teamsters Pension Fund. In February 1973 Seifert discovered that illegal mob money was being laundered through International Fibergla.s.s's books, and he left the company. When Lombardo, Spilotro, Weiner, and Dorfman were investigated by a grand jury for criminal fraud, Seifert was to be the prosecution's star witness. These "gentlemen" had plenty to be concerned about because the $1.4 million loan obtained by Weiner through his good friend Allen Dorfman came from the Central States Teamsters Pension Fund and would lead back to the Outfit. Seifert then gave federal investigators proof that Alderisio and Lombardo (the latter, through two canceled checks) were silent partners at International Fibergla.s.s. Seifert would doc.u.ment fiscal wrongdoing using checks deposited to the company books that were kicked back to Lombardo under the guise of reimbursing him for back wages. By 1974, as indictments loomed, the Outfit deduced that the knowledge of the canceled checks could have come only from Seifert and that he would testify against them in court. It became obvious that something had to be done. testify against them in court. It became obvious that something had to be done.

On September 27, 1974, three cars showed up early at Plastic-Matic Products, the Bensenville plastics factory that Seifert now operated. Joe Lombardo and Jimmy LaPietra arrived in a brown Ford LTD. John Fecarotta and Tony Spilotro drove up in a white-and-blue Dodge Charger. Frank Schweihs drove a third, unidentified car that was never found. The ambush was set. Danny Seifert showed up for work with his wife, Emma, and toddler son Joe. As Emma and her son walked into the office ahead of Danny, three gunmen dressed in hooded sweats.h.i.+rts and ski masks burst through the back door. They grabbed Emma and little Joe and locked them inside the bathroom. The a.s.sailants told Emma that they were there to rob the place.

Emma screamed, but obviously not loudly enough, because Daniel didn't hear her. When Danny walked into the office, he was thrown to the ground in the entryway, hit with the b.u.t.t of a gun, and severely beaten. Before the a.s.sailants could handcuff Seifert and shoot him, Danny bolted out the gla.s.s door, streaking it with blood, and was chased by the three masked men in the parking lot of the plastics factory. Screaming for help and running for his life, Seifert burst into the adjoining office building and yelled for somebody, anybody to call the police. When one worker picked up the phone, a masked gunman aimed a shotgun at him and told him to put the phone down.

Danny raced through the premises with the gunmen in hot pursuit. By the time he made it out the door and back into the parking lot, he had been shot in the leg. He fell to the ground. The next shot was a point-blank shotgun blast through the back of his head. As the shooters bolted from the scene, someone called the cops. There was a police call out for a pink LTD, but when officers drove by a Key Pontiac dealers.h.i.+p, they saw a brown Ford LTD and some guys getting into the Dodge Charger. An unsuccessful chase ensued. The brown Ford LTD was later found with ski masks and a pair of handcuffs left behind. The abandoned car had been altered as a mob work car complete with a supercharged engine and revolving license plates. During the crime-scene investigation, one woman identified Fecarotta in a photo lineup as a man who had been casing the Seifert factory. Another female witness identified Spilotro as being one of the occupants of the blue getaway car. Emma told the cops she was convinced one of the masked men was Lombardo because of his height and stocky build and because she recognized that "Joey was a boxer and very light on his feet." She was sure he was the one who had pushed her and Joe into the bathroom. A salesperson at an electronics store, CB Center of America, picked Lombardo, Fecarotta, LaPietra, and Schweihs out of a photo lineup as being in the store buying police scanners that were later linked to the getaway cars. Joe had signed the receipt for the scanners as "J. Savard"; Savard was the maiden name of Frank Schweihs's wife. engine and revolving license plates. During the crime-scene investigation, one woman identified Fecarotta in a photo lineup as a man who had been casing the Seifert factory. Another female witness identified Spilotro as being one of the occupants of the blue getaway car. Emma told the cops she was convinced one of the masked men was Lombardo because of his height and stocky build and because she recognized that "Joey was a boxer and very light on his feet." She was sure he was the one who had pushed her and Joe into the bathroom. A salesperson at an electronics store, CB Center of America, picked Lombardo, Fecarotta, LaPietra, and Schweihs out of a photo lineup as being in the store buying police scanners that were later linked to the getaway cars. Joe had signed the receipt for the scanners as "J. Savard"; Savard was the maiden name of Frank Schweihs's wife.

When the brown LTD was retrieved, its owners.h.i.+p was linked to a bogus business called Acme Security, whose address was identical to that of a plumbing company called Minotti Plumbing. Minotti was owned by an acquaintance of Lombardo's.

In spite of the evidence collected during the Seifert murder investigation, and the fact that a witness was later told by Lombardo at a driving range, "That son of a b.i.t.c.h won't testify against anybody now, will he?" no charges were originally brought against the shooters. Also, the case against Joe the Clown, Tony Spilotro, and Allen Dorfman in the matter of International Fibergla.s.s, Inc., and their alleged unlawful use of Teamster pension funds was dropped due to the lack of evidence needed to bring the case to a grand jury. Without Seifert's testimony, the government's fraud case fizzled.

When the news of the sanctioned hit (signed off on by "Joey Doves" Aiuppa) reached Outfit consigliere Tony Accardo, he was infuriated that such a brazen order had been given in the first place.

FBI Agent Tracy Balinao, a.s.signed to the reopened investigation, was a year older than Joe Seifert, who as a four-year-old saw his dead father "lying in the gra.s.s" in a pool of blood. Almost Agent Tracy Balinao, a.s.signed to the reopened investigation, was a year older than Joe Seifert, who as a four-year-old saw his dead father "lying in the gra.s.s" in a pool of blood. Almost thirty years later, in 2003 when the case was reopened, Tracy interviewed Emma and Joe in an effort to piece together the details of the murder. thirty years later, in 2003 when the case was reopened, Tracy interviewed Emma and Joe in an effort to piece together the details of the murder.

Lombardo was first tied to Seifert's murder by a government informant and career criminal, Alva Johnson Rodgers, the man who had heard Lombardo's boast at the driving range. Uncle Nick later contributed information as he was being debriefed by Mike Maseth. Since there was no conclusive DNA evidence, nor a definitive eyewitness to identify the masked shooters, it was now up to the FBI OC squad to build a seamless web of evidence that would bring an indictment and a conviction thirty years later.

Tracy Balinao had been with OC1 since 1996, the same year Mike Hartnett joined the squad. Between the 1997 investigative launch and the 2005 indictments, Balinao (in addition to taking three maternity leaves) began working with another tough-minded agent, Chris Williams. As the case approached the indictment stage, Williams exited the squad, leaving Balinao in charge of linking Lombardo to the case.

Balinao was born in Chicago and lived near Wrigley Field before her family moved out to the southwestern suburbs in Oak Forest. Graduating from the University of Illinois in Chicago in 1991, she was recruited by the Bureau and joined the FBI for support and clerical work. After three years of organized crime research, Balinao applied to become an agent around the time of the first Iraq Gulf War. After graduating from Quantico she was transferred back to Chicago, where she worked on the bank robbery detail for about a year and a half before being rea.s.signed to the Organized Crime squad.

Balinao found that police and FBI reports from 1974 about the Seifert murder contained little contact information on the witnesses that was still useful. Women had married and changed their surnames. Other people were deceased. Officers and agents had retired, and witnesses had moved on without leaving Social Security numbers to help trace their current whereabouts.

Nevertheless, many key witnesses were found and came forward. In spite of fear of Outfit reprisal, most agreed to cooperate.

A salesman at the CB Center of America reiterated his sworn statement that Lombardo and Schweihs had dropped in to purchase the police scanners. Another woman reaffirmed that she had seen Fecarotta staking out the premises the week before. A salesman at the CB Center of America reiterated his sworn statement that Lombardo and Schweihs had dropped in to purchase the police scanners. Another woman reaffirmed that she had seen Fecarotta staking out the premises the week before.

A woman who was. .h.i.t by Tony Spilotro in his Dodge getaway car on her way to work "reidentified" his picture decades later. At the time, she had taken down Spilotro's license number and picked him out of a lineup, not knowing the person she was pointing out was the infamous. .h.i.t man.

The rookie policeman who chased the getaway car had become the police chief of Elmhurst, Illinois. One retired FBI agent on the original case flew in from out of state (at his own expense) to supply additional background information. Many other retired policemen and FBI agents cooperated with Balinao in the hope that she could accomplish what so many others couldn't: nail Lombardo.

Perhaps the most interesting witness who revisited the Seifert case was Marvin Lemke. Lemke happened to be doing asphalt work at the Key Pontiac dealers.h.i.+p the day of the shooting when he noticed the suspects gathered together. Lemke knew something was going down, because he had committed robberies in the past and had done time. Lemke was the perfect witness, but back in 1974 the investigators thought he was not credible because of his criminal record. But he knew exactly what was going on when he saw all the shooters consolidate into one car.

The dominant piece of evidence that linked Lombardo to Seifert's death was the fingerprint lifted off the application for t.i.tle of the brown Ford LTD. The original t.i.tle application, notarized by a secretary in Irwin "Red" Weiner's office and later sent off to the Illinois Secretary of State's office, was later tracked down in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., as part of an organized crime national archives file. The car registration had already been dusted for fingerprints by FBI agent Roy McDaniel and revealed Joe the Clown's full print, proving he had access to the car.

Some of the thirty-year-old case files were missing. But then another agent who was looking at the Michael Cagnoni file called the Two Mikes. "You guys gotta see this," he said. It was a big file on Seifert that they didn't think the Bureau had. That's when they retraced the print that had already been identified as Lombardo's. the Two Mikes. "You guys gotta see this," he said. It was a big file on Seifert that they didn't think the Bureau had. That's when they retraced the print that had already been identified as Lombardo's.

Joey later insisted that he must have touched the registration when it was sitting on the secretary's desk at Irv's office, since he was frequently there.

Resurrecting decades-old cases like the Seifert and Ortiz-Morawski murders took tremendous personal tolls on the victims' families. During the Family Secrets investigation, agents like Balinao trod on highly emotional and sensitive family ground. For the Seifert case, the burden was on Tracy and the squad to convince witnesses like Emma and Joe that this time the authorities were building an ironclad case, and had the wherewithal to see it through. It was important that witnesses put their fear aside and testify at the trial. When Tracy would update Joe Seifert with new and pertinent developments regarding the case, he would often ask Balinao to contact his mother herself. This was in an effort to engage her. At first Emma didn't want the FBI anywhere near her; she thought they were bringing up the bad stuff again after she had gotten over it. She was very angry that nothing had been accomplished back then, and now the FBI was telling her she would be safe, after Daniel had cooperated and ended up dead.

The corrosion of organized crime had devastated yet another family. In the decades that pa.s.sed, Emma Seifert had remarried and moved on with her life, making new friends who may not have known about her tragic past. Meanwhile, Emma's sons Joe and Nick were both deeply traumatized by their father's death. Each, independently of the other, had considered seeking revenge on the man they knew as children as "Uncle Joe."

Agent Chris Mackey encountered a similar situation during the Ortiz-Morawski investigation. When Richard Ortiz's son first heard that his dad had been shot and killed on July 23, 1983, he ran down to the Cicero murder scene the very next day. Later, there was conjecture that the Cicero police were involved. It was hard for Mackey to imagine a young kid having to grow up in Cicero thinking the police might have killed his father, which wasn't true. hard for Mackey to imagine a young kid having to grow up in Cicero thinking the police might have killed his father, which wasn't true.

When the Cicero Police Department stepped up a fresh inquiry during the Family Secrets investigation, Maseth and Mackey confidentially approached the Cicero police and urged them to back off. The cops were told in so many words that the FBI had a handle on the killers.

During the reopened Vaci investigations, Agent Luigi Mondini spent hours at a restaurant with Emil Vaci's daughters, just listening to them talk about how horrible their life was after their father died.

"What happened to my father? Why was he killed?" they asked.

Suddenly their dad didn't come home. The next day he was found in a ditch, rolled up in a tarp. The Phoenix Police Department investigated for a bit, but nothing came of it. n.o.body seemed to care. Now, years later, my uncle Nick would step forward and reveal what really happened.

By the time the Family Secrets defendants went to trial on a sultry Tuesday morning, June 19, 2007, the manner in which FBI agents handled Outfit mobsters had changed dramatically. During the 1960s and 1970s, an FBI agent might have taken a more macho approach. Today, the FBI's strategy is more psychological and less confrontational. With a star witness like my uncle, who had an adversarial relations.h.i.+p with federal agents nearly his whole life, a confrontational approach might not work. There were certain agents he wouldn't speak to. (Some he won't speak to even today.) Cooperation isn't something that is cajoled out of a defendant. Straight talk and earnest negotiating are what brought witnesses like my uncle and me to the table to cooperate. That, and the damaging DNA evidence. a confrontational approach might not work. There were certain agents he wouldn't speak to. (Some he won't speak to even today.) Cooperation isn't something that is cajoled out of a defendant. Straight talk and earnest negotiating are what brought witnesses like my uncle and me to the table to cooperate. That, and the damaging DNA evidence.

After indictments were served in 2005, the ball was in the court of the three-man prosecution team working closely with the FBI Chicago Organized Crime squad. Because of the amount of local and even national interest in the case, the trial was to be held in downtown Chicago, at the United States district courthouse at 219 South Dearborn, in the large ceremonial courtroom. The court battle was to be presided over by United States District Court judge James Block Zagel.

Zagel, a Chicago native, Harvard Law graduate, and Reagan appointee, had been on the bench since 1987 after serving as the Director of the State Police. Zagel had auth.o.r.ed a crime thriller called Money to Burn Money to Burn, published by Putnam in 2002. Set in Chicago, the book mixes characters with judicial experience (Judge Paul E. Devine is the story's narrator) with the financial intrigue of the Federal Reserve Bank. The Wall Street Journal Wall Street Journal extolled extolled Money to Burn Money to Burn as "a funhouse-mirror morality tale." Later, in April 2009, after the Family Secrets trial, Zagel was selected to preside over another high-profile case: the corruption trial of the disgraced former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich. as "a funhouse-mirror morality tale." Later, in April 2009, after the Family Secrets trial, Zagel was selected to preside over another high-profile case: the corruption trial of the disgraced former Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich.

By the time the Family Secrets trial began, the number of defendants had shrunk to five: Frank Calabrese, Sr., James Marcello, Joseph Lombardo, Paul Schiro, and Anthony Doyle. Dropping off along the way by pleading out were Michael Marcello, Nicholas Ferriola, Thomas Johnson, Joseph Venezia, and Dennis Johnson. Frank "Gumba" Saladino had died, as had Mike Ricci. Frank Schweihs, after being diagnosed with cancer, was to be tried separately. Nick, of course, had switched sides. While he had an agreement with the government that he wouldn't have to face the death penalty, he was still on the hook for the crimes he had committed, and his fate would be decided by Zagel at the sentencing phase. he had committed, and his fate would be decided by Zagel at the sentencing phase.

The three-man prosecution team came out of the United States Attorney's Office for the Northern District of Illinois, headed by Patrick Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald had served as the federal prosecutor in charge of the Valerie Plame CIA leak, which led to the prosecution of Vice President d.i.c.k Cheney's chief of staff, Lewis "Scooter" Libby. Under Fitzgerald's authority, the Family Secrets prosecution team consisted of three primary chairs: a.s.sistant U.S. Attorneys Mitch Mars, John Scully, and T. Markus Funk. Funk was the last to be added to the team.

Mitch Mars, the lead prosecutor, was a press-shy, low-key prosecutorial genius. He had a youthful bespectacled look and an easygoing style. His office and desk were a legendary mess, with mounds of paperwork stacked everywhere. If an agent had to leave a doc.u.ment in his office, he or she would often tape papers and memos to his chair. As the Chief of the Organized Crime Strike Force, Mars was respected and feared by street soldiers and the Outfit upper echelon.

John Scully, the father figure of the group, had expertise as a mob prosecutor dating back to 1982, when he was with the Department of Justice. In 1990 a merger within the U.S. Attorney's Office resulted in the formation of the local Organized Crime Strike Force units.

In the early 1960s, starting with Attorney General Bobby Kennedy, the federal government pushed the idea of having dedicated people-prosecutors, agents, and representatives of different agencies-to work on the mob in specific cities that had been overrun by organized crime, places like Boston, New York, Pittsburgh, Chicago, Detroit, New Orleans, and Providence.

Scully worked as a federal prosecutor on the case against corrupt cop and former Chicago Police Chief of Detectives William Hanhardt. Our street crew viewed Scully as a dangerous lifelong prosecutor. In our eyes, there were two kinds of prosecutors. One was looking to jump-start his or her career and move on to the private sector. The other was a career prosecutor working for the G. Mars and Scully were career G-men, and according to my father, you G. Mars and Scully were career G-men, and according to my father, you never never wanted to go up against a career prosecutor. wanted to go up against a career prosecutor.

Prior to signing on to the Operation Family Secrets team, T. Markus Funk had been with the U.S. Attorney's Office since 2000. Before becoming a federal prosecutor, Funk worked as a law professor teaching criminal law at Oxford University in England and later at the University of Chicago and Northwestern University. On loan to the State Department, he spent 2004 through 2006 in Kosovo as the Section Chief for the Department of Justice. In Kosovo, Funk helped the war-torn Muslim majority establish the rule of law and revamp their judicial and prosecutorial systems. In fact, even today Funk's book on Kosovo trial practice remains their most-cited legal source.

When Funk was contacted by the U.S. Attorney's Office in Chicago about a bombsh.e.l.l mob case called Family Secrets, he was immediately intrigued. Though he hadn't worked in the organized crime section, he had gained considerable experience in Kosovo fighting human trafficking and Eastern European organized crime syndicates. When the U.S. Attorney's Office asked if he would be interested in working Family Secrets, Funk, still living on a fortified U.S. base, called his colleagues back in Chicago and asked around about the Family Secrets case. Then he accepted the offer.

The biggest challenge the three prosecutors faced was to keep a complicated case like Family Secrets, spanning nearly four decades, simple. That meant knowing which elements to include and which to leave out. With a one-week burglary or bank robbery trial, a prosecutor could get away with including a few extra facts. But with a long, drawn-out trial like Family Secrets, the jurors could get frustrated if they didn't understand the relevance of certain testimony or were confused by what it meant and how it fit.

Mitch Mars's role as lead prosecutor became crucial. It was important that he put the case together in a streamlined fas.h.i.+on when the time came for me to testify on the stand.

When Family Secrets. .h.i.t the trial stage there wasn't the traditional sense of FBI agents "handing things off" to the a.s.sistant U.S. Attorneys. Very few decisions about witnesses or which tapes to play were made without agent input. The FBI and the prosecutors remained a close-knit team throughout the trial, often working eighteen- or even twenty-hour days. Because the schedule was grueling, Maseth often slept in one of Mitch Mars's war room offices, on an inflated air mattress he borrowed from John Scully. Mike Maseth and the team of agents worked with Mars, Scully, and Funk to carefully coordinate the witnesses. Issues and questions arose daily. When would a certain witness be needed? How should they schedule the flights of witnesses? How should they arrange the seating, because one person might be a victim, another, a perpetrator? How could they monitor and keep certain witnesses apart and unaware of each other's role? U.S. Attorneys. Very few decisions about witnesses or which tapes to play were made without agent input. The FBI and the prosecutors remained a close-knit team throughout the trial, often working eighteen- or even twenty-hour days. Because the schedule was grueling, Maseth often slept in one of Mitch Mars's war room offices, on an inflated air mattress he borrowed from John Scully. Mike Maseth and the team of agents worked with Mars, Scully, and Funk to carefully coordinate the witnesses. Issues and questions arose daily. When would a certain witness be needed? How should they schedule the flights of witnesses? How should they arrange the seating, because one person might be a victim, another, a perpetrator? How could they monitor and keep certain witnesses apart and unaware of each other's role?

The Operation Family Secrets strategy was to cl.u.s.ter five defendants into one solid case, creating a sample spectrum of mob authority. With Frank the German separated, Operation Family Secrets still had a wide-enough range of defendants, a cross section of men from different crews working toward a common end-to advance the interests of the Outfit. Marcello and Lombardo were the boss figures and capos; my father was the dreaded hit man and juice loan crew chief; Schiro and Doyle were loyal soldiers who did the Outfit's bidding. The a.s.sistant U.S. Attorneys and the FBI wanted to make certain they could satisfy the criteria for the RICO charges to a tee. It was the nation's most expansive mob-murder racketeering indictment, and Funk was charged with, among other things, helping establish the homicides. The objective was to collect the homicides, and once it was proven that a defendant had been involved in or had conspired to commit murder, the maximum sentence that defendant faced increased from twenty years to life. The law also states that with any of the co-conspirators, if they all worked together, the act of one represented the acts of all.

I had no communication or contact with the prosecution team during the trial. I spent my days on call in a room downstairs from the courtroom, reliving key moments with my father and mentally preparing myself to go on the stand. I tried to imagine how my father and his defense team might challenge my testimony and integrity in court. preparing myself to go on the stand. I tried to imagine how my father and his defense team might challenge my testimony and integrity in court.

With a case spanning nearly forty years, the question of the statute of limitations was bound to come up. While it's commonly known that the statute of limitations doesn't pertain to murder cases, it was ruled that the Family Secrets prosecution team was allowed a cus.h.i.+on of time regarding the nonmurder aspects of the case.

On the defense team, noted criminal attorney Rick Halprin represented Lombardo. Courtroom tacticians Marc Martin and Thomas Breen repped Jimmy Marcello. Paul "the Indian" Schiro's lawyer was the low-key Paul Wagner. Anthony "Twan" Doyle was represented by Ralph Meczyk. My father chose flashy Joseph "the Shark" Lopez. Lopez is a state-court master at dealing with the press and notorious for his shocking pink socks, s.h.i.+rts, and ties.

Defending my father was never an easy task. In my opinion, the problem is that my father doesn't trust lawyers, and he doesn't believe in telling them the whole story, which puts them at a disadvantage out of the gate. He doesn't like to pay lawyers, either.

There were varying opinions as to whether it was advantageous that Frank Schweihs be tried separately. As anxious as the FBI and a.s.sistant U.S. Attorneys were to nail the German, there was concern that his presence might extend the trial by weeks or even months if he was included in the first round. Schweihs was a psychopath and unlikely to agree to stipulations made among the attorneys designed to speed up the trial process. As the trial date approached it became evident that Schweihs would be severed from the trial because he was too ill with cancer.

I had never met the German, although I knew his daughter Nora. We had mutual friends in Cicero, and she had married and later divorced Michael Talarico. The German was a time bomb who could go off at any moment. Any one of his outbursts could trigger a mistrial. In a criminal career that spanned fifty years, Schweihs had had hundreds of encounters with law enforcement personnel. Prior to sentencing in front of U.S. District Court Judge Ann B. Williams, Schweihs was described by the federal prosecutor as "one of the most violent people to come before this court." personnel. Prior to sentencing in front of U.S. District Court Judge Ann B. Williams, Schweihs was described by the federal prosecutor as "one of the most violent people to come before this court."

Jury selection for the trial took almost three days, a short period of time considering the complex nature of the case. Prior to the three-month trial, the prosecution team won a ruling to cloak the names of the jurors, which was met with a strenuous objection by the defense. Family Secrets would be tried in front of an anonymous jury.

In preparation for battle, the prosecution team set up three separate war rooms-the smallest for storage, the largest as a strategy room, and the third serving as a general office. On the wall of the large conference room was a calendar and a dry-erase board converted into a three-month calendar constructed with masking tape and marking pens. The prosecution team gradually built a timetable, filling in dates with witness appearances color-coded in yellow, blue, and pink according to which witness was a.s.signed to which prosecutor or agent. Mitch Mars was especially adept at sequencing the prosecution's witness appearances. John Scully, who had history with the most people, was a.s.signed the longest list of witnesses. There would be approximately 130 witnesses, including those for the defense.

Defending the five was going to be a difficult proposition. It's not certain how much of a case a criminal attorney as talented as Rick Halprin had to work with representing the former fugitive Joey Lombardo. The juggernaut the defense team would have the most trouble sinking would be my prison yard tapes. The tapes, coupled with my commentary, represented evidence that would be extremely difficult to refute. How I would fare as a witness would hinge on how effectively I could break my father's gangster code for the jury. Following me on the stand would be my uncle, another star witness with a steel-trap memory and direct testimony as both executioner and partic.i.p.ant. It felt strange that after nearly seven years apart, Uncle Nick and I would finally face my father again, though not as blood compatriots but as witnesses for the prosecution in court.

Since all the Family Secrets defendants except for Anthony "Twan" Doyle were in custody, the accused arrived at the federal courthouse accompanied by U.S. marshals via transport bus from the MCC. Before the judge arrived and the jury was ushered in, there was some quiet conversation, but not much, mostly a solemn quiet. Joey Lombardo and Jimmy Marcello talked to each other. Paul Schiro sat silent. Twan Doyle entered the building flas.h.i.+ng, to the delight of the a.s.sembled press, his retired badge and police photo ID to security guards. Once inside the courtroom, he acknowledged my father, something the jury did not see-a retired decorated police officer friendly with an Outfit crew chief. The two had a long history as friends and now were co-conspirators. sat silent. Twan Doyle entered the building flas.h.i.+ng, to the delight of the a.s.sembled press, his retired badge and police photo ID to security guards. Once inside the courtroom, he acknowledged my father, something the jury did not see-a retired decorated police officer friendly with an Outfit crew chief. The two had a long history as friends and now were co-conspirators.

The government launched its case with Mitch Mars, the seemingly disorganized genius; John Scully, the scholarly patriarch; and T. Markus Funk, the youngest of the trio, and often the feistiest and most aggressive. To the concern of his colleagues, throughout the trial, Mars nursed a nasty cough. The agents kept the war room stocked with cough drops, aspirin, and boxes of Kleenex. Funk would often slip him one of his Ricolas. Mitch would usually dissolve a Life Saver or a cough drop in a gla.s.s of water, since he didn't want the jurors-who weren't permitted to eat while in the jury box-to see him him sitting at the counsel table eating candy or breath mints. sitting at the counsel table eating candy or breath mints.

Mars's golden rule was to never p.i.s.s off the judge, so it was important for anyone a.s.sociated with the government's case to go out of his or her way to make sure during the discovery process that each defense attorney had been given the necessary copies of scanned government doc.u.ments.

Every morning my father would put on his smiling face-"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Good morning, your honor, Judge Zagel"-a gesture many saw as disingenuous. His routine attempts to engage in small talk with the prosecution team, seated only three feet away, were rebuffed.

While many of the victims' family members took seats in the gallery, very few members of the defendants' families turned up at the courthouse. Joe Lombardo's son, Joey junior, showed up, but my stepmother, Diane, made herself scarce-perhaps in part because the government characterized her as an unindicted co-conspirator. The prosecution argued to Judge Zagel that my father's conversations with Diane were not subject to husband-wife privilege, because, they charged, she had engaged in criminal conduct and spoken in coded language regarding "recipes" (illegal collections from gambling or juice loans) with my father while he was in prison. collections from gambling or juice loans) with my father while he was in prison.

My uncle and I would be permitted to attend the trial only as partic.i.p.ants during our testimony on the stand. Outside of a few friends from the street-such as Shorty LaMantia's son Rocky-there was little support for my father. Virtually no one from my family, including aunts, uncles, and my mother, attended the trial.

Kurt was there primarily to witness our father's behavior. Well before the trial, upon hearing about my cooperation with the FBI, my mother, Kurt, and my youngest brother, Nicky, visited my father at FCI Milan. They explained to him that in the interest of the family they would not take sides. My dad agreed. Still, as the group was leaving, my father took Kurt aside and a.s.sured him that he could protect him from the wrath of the Outfit brought on by my uncle and me. In return, he asked Kurt to refute our testimony on the witness stand.

"I don't want to get involved," Kurt reiterated.

On the first day of jury selection Kurt called to tell me that a plastic bag containing a digital clock and what appeared to be three sticks of dynamite had been placed on his back door. He wasn't sure what to do about it. A few days prior, he had noticed a prowler dressed in black skulking around the backyard of his house. After he turned on the outdoor lights, the man fled through a hole in the back fence.

Then a spate of threatening notes turned up at Kurt's home. Seeing the acts as desperate, Kurt stood firm. When he discovered the explosive in his yard, he asked me to quietly send the FBI over to determine whether or not the bomb was authentic. (It wasn't.) Once news of the bomb threat hit the media, Kurt was inundated with reporters and cameras at his front door. The FBI offered Kurt and his family witness protection, but citing the media as a bigger problem, he refused and took his family to stay with his in-laws at their family complex in Chinatown.

The Family Secrets jury would be in for a history lesson about the Outfit. James Wagner of the Chicago Crime Commission set the stage by giving the jury a history of the Outfit dating back to Al Capone. Another key witness slated to testify was p.o.r.n shop owner turned FBI informant William "Red" Wemette, who was being extorted by Joey Lombardo and Frank the German. Scheduled to appear were former burglar Bobby "the Beak" Siegel, Ernie "the Oven" Severino, Sal Romano, and bookmaker Michael Talarico. Another witness, Joel Glickman, was jailed early in the proceedings after refusing to testify. He was to be questioned about a juice loan that my father made back in the late sixties to an insurance executive Glickman worked for. After spending the weekend at the MCC courtesy of Judge Zagel and Markus Funk, Glickman was granted immunity and took the stand. Among the victims and their family members who would testify were Emma Seifert; Joseph Seifert; Dr. Pat Spilotro; and Michael Spilotro's widow, Ann, and her daughter, Mich.e.l.le. the stage by giving the jury a history of the Outfit dating back to Al Capone. Another key witness slated to testify was p.o.r.n shop owner turned FBI informant William "Red" Wemette, who was being extorted by Joey Lombardo and Frank the German. Scheduled to appear were former burglar Bobby "the Beak" Siegel, Ernie "the Oven" Severino, Sal Romano, and bookmaker Michael Talarico. Another witness, Joel Glickman, was jailed early in the proceedings after refusing to testify. He was to be questioned about a juice loan that my father made back in the late sixties to an insurance executive Glickman worked for. After spending the weekend at the MCC courtesy of Judge Zagel and Markus Funk, Glickman was granted immunity and took the stand. Among the victims and their family members who would testify were Emma Seifert; Joseph Seifert; Dr. Pat Spilotro; and Michael Spilotro's widow, Ann, and her daughter, Mich.e.l.le.

Once the trial was under way, John Scully presented the prosecution's opening statement, which homed right in on my father, who was accused of carrying out most of the murders. Scully was eager to smudge the mob's romantic appeal by citing the corrosive effects of organized crime on the victims and their families. "This is not The Sopranos The Sopranos. This is not The G.o.dfather The G.o.dfather. This case is about real people, real victims."

In building its case, the prosecution would systematically go through each and every murder, beginning with Danny Seifert in 1974 and Michael Albergo in 1970. The remaining sixteen murders would be presented chronologically. Around the trial's midpoint, I would appear as the first star witness.

A few days before I was scheduled to testify, I was so emotionally charged that I could barely sleep. I was constantly on the phone with Lisa, my mother, and my brothers for support. It felt good knowing my family supported me and had my back. When I first agreed to cooperate, one of the conditions I asked of the FBI was to leave my family and my legitimate friends alone. To this day, the FBI has kept its word and has never once talked to my family or bothered any of my hardworking friends.

After going over my testimony with the prosecution team, I entered the courtroom prepared. The first time I met John Scully, he did a great job of ripping into me during testimony preparation. I told Mr. Scully that I'd go to jail and sit for ten years if it meant taking my father off the streets and keeping him locked up. Not once did I ask for immunity or lie to protect myself. On the contrary, I did my time. I needed Markus Funk, Mitch Mars, and John Scully to pretend they were the best defense team in America, taking turns tearing into me, and they did a great job, much better, actually, than the actual defense attorneys. entered the courtroom prepared. The first time I met John Scully, he did a great job of ripping into me during testimony preparation. I told Mr. Scully that I'd go to jail and sit for ten years if it meant taking my father off the streets and keeping him locked up. Not once did I ask for immunity or lie to protect myself. On the contrary, I did my time. I needed Markus Funk, Mitch Mars, and John Scully to pretend they were the best defense team in America, taking turns tearing into me, and they did a great job, much better, actually, than the actual defense attorneys.

The day before I was to testify, I asked Mr. Mars and Mr. Scully if I could go inside and get familiar with the surroundings once everyone had left the courtroom. Escorted by a few FBI agents and U.S. marshals, I spent a few minutes in the courtroom taking it in. I asked where my father would be sitting. After sitting silently on the witness stand for a few moments, I had the strangest feeling. Those moments prepared me for the battle I was about to wage against my father.

When it came time to be sworn in, I was ushered past where the news media were set up and inside the large ceremonial courtroom. Although every major television station and newspaper asked, I didn't grant interviews. It was evident that the victims' families were there to watch me and scrutinize every word I said.

Antic.i.p.ating my first day on the stand, I was an emotional wreck. Seeing my father for the first time in over six years and knowing that I was beefing on him would be overwhelming. I felt lightheaded, unsteady. The government wasn't sure how effective a witness I would be. For the first day, I was scheduled to take the stand for about thirty minutes. Because of the upcoming Fourth of July holiday, I would then have time to regroup to get my emotions in check.

I walked into the courtroom and there were two tables on one side, three on the other. My dad sat about twenty feet away. There were U.S. marshals and FBI agents present. There was a gallery of news reporters. There were mob fans and groupies trying to find seats.

Then came the moment: me facing my father. As I walked straight toward the judge, I could see my father out of the corner of my eye.

I didn't exactly make a smooth entrance. When I walked into the courtroom and my dad saw me for the first time, my emotions kicked in. Instead of walking up to the box to get sworn in, I stepped up in front of the judge's bench. I thought he would swear me in. With my chin almost up on the judge's bench, I raised my hand. I realized I was more accustomed to sitting at the defendants' table. After the bailiff swore me in and I sat in the witness box, Mr. Scully asked me my name. I spoke with my mouth way too close to the mic. "FRANK CALABRESE." The room appeared to shake. The judge asked me, "Mr. Calabrese, could you please back it up a little?"

Scully asked me to point out my dad. I was told afterward that when I did, it was the first time during the whole trial that my dad didn't stand up and wave and smile to the jury. My father had the same awkward look on his face as I did: two people who were once close and who hadn't seen each other in years. At first he looked sad as the brokenhearted father in disbelief that I was actually doing this. It wasn't easy for me to accept that he was being tried as a ma.s.s murderer. I felt a shuddering outpouring of emotion. I wanted to run over and hug and kiss him. I also wanted to beat the life out of him.

I wasn't there to play games or to antagonize anyone. When I walked into the courtroom, I focused straight ahead. Whoever was going to ask me questions, I concentrated on him. During breaks I just sat in my chair, and while everybody else talked and joked around, I didn't talk to anyone. I was there on a mission. When someone asked me to speak, I spoke. When someone asked me to point to my father or Jimmy Marcello, I pointed. My dad was the one mugging, making faces and gestures and rolling his eyes. I believed this would backfire because the jury was watching him the whole time.

The stress of testifying would take a physical toll on me. At MCI Milan I had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis; now, prior to going on the stand, I was so anxious, scared, and nervous that I needed a cane to walk straight. prior to going on the stand, I was so anxious, scared, and nervous that I needed a cane to walk straight.

When my father saw me walking with a cane, I saw a look in his eyes. It was almost as though he was concerned about me for a brief moment. It was a look I'll never forget and that's hard to describe. It was very affecting. He looked older, but in good physical shape, as strong as ever. Then his Outfit ways seemed to kick in. When I saw him whispering to his lawyer, I knew exactly what he was saying. He was telling Joe Lopez that by walking in with a cane, I was using an old Outfit trick he'd taught me. If the defense tried to challenge my use of the cane, I was ready to pull up my pant-legs and show them how the MS had eaten away the muscles in both legs. While I wasn't challenged in court, there were comments made by my father's team that my use of a cane was just a show. My doctor told me that I needed a cane due to the stress as my MS acted up. I used the cane the whole time I was in Chicago, but once the trial was over, the nervous twitching ended and I didn't need the cane anymore.

The first day, my father sat and listened. But once the tapes rolled and I commented on them, he started with the gestures. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. I could see the manipulative, abusive father back in control.

After the abbreviated first day of testimony, over the July 4 weekend I spent twelve-hour days preparing for my first full day of testimony. I knew that Dad would portray the case as a family dispute to distract attention from the tapes. Yet once I returned to the witness stand it was important for me to be truthful about my past with the crew. Otherwise the defense would rip me apart.

I owned up to the bad I had done. I was a half-a.s.sed gangster, collecting money, shaking people down, throwing bricks through windows, burning down a garage. I made it clear that I'd used and sold cocaine, and that I'd stolen from my father. I wanted to be as transparent as possible. What the jury saw was who I was. It wasn't my intention to gloss over my transgressions or my past. I didn't blame anybody else, whether it was my father, my uncle, or the crew. The temptation on the witness stand is to drag other people in and point the finger, but my uncle and I didn't do that. We took responsibility for our acts. people in and point the finger, but my uncle and I didn't do that. We took responsibility for our acts.

On Monday morning I testified about my tumultuous relations.h.i.+p with my father. I admitted to stealing and recounted how he stuck a gun in my face after he discovered the money was missing. I recounted his infamous words as he held the gun-a snub-nosed .38 revolver stuck inside a black dress sock-to my head.

"I'd rather have you dead than disobey me."

During my days testifying, I recalled making my weekly rounds collecting peep show quarters as a high school student with Uncle Nick. I spoke candidly about my cocaine habit and how I wildly spent and invested portions of my father's money. I described pleading guilty to being part of the crew and being sentenced to fifty-seven months in federal prison. My father wore a slight smirk on his face, scoffing at my testimony. Joseph "the Shark" Lopez explained his client's demeanor to the Sun-Times Sun-Times as "always smiling. He's a happy-go-lucky fellow." Yeah, sure. as "always smiling. He's a happy-go-lucky fellow." Yeah, sure.

As a high-profile witness, apart from my awkward entrance, I made few, if any, missteps on the witness stand. Ironically, I believe my strength on the stand was a result of how my dad had schooled me. Don't let people put words in your mouth, he'd said. If, to confuse me or make me look bad, an attorney asked me to say to the exact dollar how much money I had taken, I was honest. If I didn't know the exact amount, I said so. After a while, the judge and the jury got the point: I stole a large amount of money from him. Now let's move on.

I believe what made me valuable as a witness was my commentary on the tapes. I described in detail how the crew operated: collecting street tax, lending out high-interest juice loans, extorting people and businesses, and, at times, killing people. Besides testifying about the killings of William and Charlotte Dauber and Richard Ortiz and Arthur Morawski, I elaborated on the stories my father told on the yard, like the made ceremony. During the playback, Tony Ortiz, Richard Ortiz's son, leaned in and listened intently to my father's words recounting the 1983 murder of intently to my father's words recounting the 1983 murder of his his father. father.

Once the heavily coded prison yard tapes were introduced as evidence, they needed to be played, then translated for the jury. As a witness, it was up to me to break the code by interpreting and translating each conversation, no matter how cryptic. It was imperative that the jury understand the gravity of these tapes.

At first a small portion of the tape would be played and stopped, sentence by sentence. Scully questioned me on each portion. Soon it became obvious that the piecemeal process was confusing the jury.

During a break, I suggested a better approach: play an entire section of the tape, and then in my own words I would thoroughly explain the conversation, after which Scully could ask me the questions. When we did this, I could see that the jury understood it better. There were no objections by the defense throughout the playing of the tapes.

Outside, one of the defense attorneys was asked by reporters why they didn't object. It was as if they wanted to stay as far away from the tapes as possible. I noticed that Judge Zagel had a copy of the transcripts and was closely following the conversations. I think he was checking to see if I was making stuff up. By the time I finished decoding the tapes, I was confident that the judge felt I was telling the truth.

The playback of the tapes recorded at Milan between Twan Doyle and my father proved problematic for the prosecution. I wasn't present in the visiting room when the tapes were recorded, so the defense could object to my interpretation and deciphering of the code words used in the conversations. As soon as Scully asked the first question, the defense immediately jumped up and objected. I wasn't present during the conversations, so how could I decode them?

Judge Zagel cleared the courtroom for a sidebar. After I spent a short time in the waiting room, Mitch Mars calmly approached me. He said the judge was going to allow me not only to explain the coded words, but to decode the conversations as I had on the other tapes. That showed the judge's faith in my testimony. Not once did the defense object, because it was obvious I knew what I was talking about. the coded words, but to decode the conversations as I had on the other tapes. That showed the judge's faith in my testimony. Not once did the defense object, because it was obvious I knew what I was talking about.

But on cross-examination, Lopez did challenge me by arguing that during the prison yard conversations, I was "pus.h.i.+ng the b.u.t.tons and pulling the levers" to get my dad to talk, and that his responses were merely empty boasts. Lopez accused me of being an "actor" coached by the FBI. When asked why I didn't walk away from the Outfit life, I responded, "I did. Because I detested the Outfit and didn't like what I saw."

The defense implied that I had coerced my father into saying certain things, but what the jury saw was that you couldn't coerce a man like my father to say or do anything. I got him to open up. I don't know how I did it. I didn't think I could. I still can't believe I did, because my father never talked like that in his entire life.

Despite the prosecution's initial fears, I was turning in convincing testimony on the witness stand. When the defense tried to cross-examine me about pulling the gun out of the sewer with the Orange Peel Grapple and returning it to Uncle Nick, they brought up a discrepancy between my recollection and what was written up in the FBI's 302. Again, I stuck to my original story that I didn't retrieve the gun with the Orange Peel. Rather, I retrieved the gun with my hand and cleaned out the catch basin with the Orange Peel truck. Later I handed the gun over to my uncle. I told the court that I had no control over what an FBI agent wrote in his report. I knew that was the truth, and the jury believed me.