Mob Star_ The Story of John Gotti Part 13

The NYPD traffic investigators ruled the tragedy an accident, but not everyone saw it the same way.

Two days after the boy's death, an unidentified woman called the 106th Precinct and said: "The driver of the car that killed Frank Gotti will be eliminated."

Favara found a death threat in his mailbox the same day, but he wasn't alarmed. "That kind of stuff only happens in movies," he told a detective who came to warn him about the call.

The day after the warning, an unidentified woman called the Favara home and made another threat. Two weeks later, Favara's car was stolen; it was found in another two weeks a mile away in Howard Beach.

Favara still wasn't concerned. But then a funeral card and a photograph of Frank Gotti were placed in his mailbox and the word "murderer" was spray-painted on his car.

John Favara was what he seemed, a mild-mannered family man, but he was friendly with Anthony Zappi, a Gambino soldier. Anthony's father, Ettore, had been one of Carlo Gambino's top capos. Anthony Zappi was treasurer of a Teamsters union local that had a contract with Castro Convertible Corporation, Favara's employer on Long Island. He and Favara grew up in Brooklyn together; though he went one way and Favara another, he was G.o.dfather to Favara's son Scott.

Favara adored his son, who had slept overnight in the Gotti house. He had transferred from the sales department of Castro Convertible so he could be with him on Sat.u.r.days.

"His sun rose and set on his son," Sgt. Gary Schriffen, a Na.s.sau County homicide investigator, would say later.

Favara asked Zappi what he should do. He told his old connected friend that the threats had to be the pranks of children; he didn't believe adults would regard Frank Gotti's death as anything but an accident. Zappi told Favara to move away and get rid of the death car, a vehicle that enraged Victoria Gotti every time she saw it pull up to the house behind hers.

On May 28, Victoria attacked Favara with a baseball bat. He went to a hospital for treatment, but did not press charges against her. He and his wife Janet then put their house up for sale.

On July 25, John and Victoria went to Florida. Willie Boy Johnson told Source BQ that Gotti would be gone a week.

"My wife is still mourning my son and I took her down there to get her mind off things," Gotti later said. "She's still on medication."

On July 28, John Favara left the Castro Convertible plant at the end of his s.h.i.+ft and walked toward his car, which was parked near the adjacent Capitol Diner. He had his eye on a new home in Na.s.sau County and a buyer for his Howard Beach home had come forward. The deal's closing details would be taken care of in two days.

As he came near his car, Favara was surprised by a heavyset man who clubbed him with a large piece of wood. The a.s.sailant then lifted Favara by the belt of the trousers and threw him into a blue van. A watchman at the Castro plant and several people in the diner saw the abduction. The diner's owner, Leon Papon, came out of the back door and demanded to know what was going on.

"Our friend is sick," the heavyset man replied. "We are taking him home."

Another man got out of the van and into a green car that followed the van away from the diner. Both vehicles disappeared down the nearby Jericho Turnpike. Later, a third man drove Favara's station wagon away.

Neither John Favara nor his car were ever seen again.

The next day, Janet Favara reported that her husband was missing. Detectives from 106th Precinct, joined by Na.s.sau County detectives, interviewed the witnesses and scoured the scene for clues. The witnesses identified Favara as the man who had been shoved into the van; a .22-caliber slug and bullet hole were found in a nearby house, at an angle suggesting gunplay during the abduction. Some detectives believe Favara may have started carrying a gun and gotten off a shot before he was overpowered.

A day later, three burly men visited the diner, sat at the counter and stared at the owner for 15 minutes. Leon Papon stopped talking to cops, sold the diner, and moved away.

John and Victoria Gotti returned from Florida on August 4. The FBI told Source BQ about the Favara incident the same day, and asked him to find out what he could.

On August 5, BQ reported back. This memo was placed in his file: "Word at the [Bergin] is that the individual responsible for [Frank Gotti's death] was killed recently at Gotti's direction and Gotti wanted a solid alibi of not even being in New York at the time this killing took place ... Gotti did not initially want revenge ... but learned from witnesses [that] the man was speeding and had jumped a stop sign before striking the boy."

No one ever told the police that John Favara was speeding or ran a stop sign. "He just didn't see the kid, he just rolled over him, it was that simple," Sgt. Schriffen said. What the Bergin men may have been told is another story.

The memo also said: "Gotti's wife has been completely distraught since the death of her son and Gotti had promised her revenge ..." A subsequent BQ memo added that Favara's body would never be found.

Queens and Na.s.sau county detectives-including Sgt. Schriffen-went to the Gotti home a few days later and were invited in by Victoria, dressed in black. She was asked if she knew what had happened to her backyard neighbor.

"I don't know what happened to him. I am not sorry if something did. He never sent me a [condolence] card. He never apologized. He never even got his car fixed."

Her husband wasn't home. Sgt. Schriffen asked where he was and what he did for a living.

"I don't know where he is. I don't know what he does. I am an old-fas.h.i.+oned woman. All I know is, he provides."

At the Bergin, Gene Gotti told the cops his brother was at his dentist's office. He said he would call them at the 106th Precinct when John returned.

Two hours later, Gene called. "My brother will meet with you now," he said.

Gotti was dressed in black that day, too. He apologized for having no coffee. He joked that everyone should watch what they said because the Bergin was bugged. He said he had lately been laid off from his job at Arc Plumbing.

"He was very self-a.s.sured," Schriffen remembered.

When the discussion turned to Favara, Gotti sounded very much like his wife.

"I don't know what happened. I am not sorry if something did happen. He killed my kid."

As time wore on, Janet Favara knew her husband wasn't coming home. But she worried about the safety of her children.

The detectives tried to give her some peace of mind. They appealed unofficially to Anthony Zappi. Was there some way they might get a tip about where Favara's body was, so his family could arrange a proper funeral?

"What happened was Family business," Zappi said. "It's over. There will be no more trouble."

Detectives believe Favara and his car were compacted into a small block of bones and steel, but no evidence was ever found. In 1986, a court declared him dead.

At one point, the detectives got a tip that a notorious gang of killers and car thieves known as the "DeMeo crew" was responsible for Favara's death. The crew was led by Roy DeMeo, who reported to Anthony Gaggi, who was one of Paul Castellano's top captains.

The DeMeo crew would be accused of 22 murders, many in connection with a stolen-car racket, for which Castellano was on trial when he was murdered. One victim of the DeMeo crew was hacked to death, after which the killers went out for pizza, one later testified. Another victim was Castellano's former son-in-law, Frank Amato, who had strayed from Constance Castellano during their marriage and was held responsible for her miscarriage. Amato disappeared a few months after Favara.

Two years after Favara vanished, a newspaper updated the story and quoted Sgt. Schriffen, who then got a call from an agitated Victoria Gotti, who asked him to stop talking to the press.

"If my husband knew I was calling you, he'd kill me," she added. "Let my son die in peace."

16.

FORGET ABOUT THIS PHONE.

IN THE FALL OF 1980, the father of the boy on the minibike was gambling heavily and losing big-about $30,000 a weekend, according to Source BQ.

Gotti beat bookmakers out of many of his losses, but BQ said, "He does not have the money he used to." Meanwhile, crew members were beginning to grumble about their own financial woes, BQ added.

Crew a.s.sociates Tony Roach Rampino, Michael Roccoforte, and the man told by Gotti to set up his son-in-law Tommy DiSimone for murder, Sal DeVita, were identified as "just a few" who were "considering taking action" on their own if Gotti didn't start arranging scores for them.

"Source states there is a lot of hard feeling and animosity among members of the club toward Gotti," Special Agent Colgan wrote.

Source BQ flatly predicted Gotti and the men closest to him would start dealing drugs in a big way-at the risk of getting killed by Paul Castellano if they got caught by the authorities.

Gotti would attempt to insulate himself by only putting up investment money, BQ said; Angelo, Gene, and Willie Boy would be more actively involved. BQ cited two bits of circ.u.mstantial evidence: Salvatore Ruggiero, with whom Gotti was once arrested in a stolen car, was recently in town and seen by Gotti and Angelo; in addition, a young dealer named Mark Reiter had begun hanging around the Bergin.

"The informant knows Reiter is heavily involved in the sale and distribution of cocaine," Agent Colgan wrote. In fact, Reiter would soon be indicted in Manhattan for selling heroin.

Though Gotti himself would be seduced by the easy money in drugs, he had recently condemned drug dealing, BQ said.

"Source states Gotti himself has laid the law down to his crew that he will not back them if they are in any way involved [in drug deals], but apparently Gotti was just following orders given him and is not abiding by these same rules."

At the time BQ was making his predictions, the Queens District Attorney's office detective squad was just beginning to investigate John and Angelo. They got underway after learning from Manhattan detectives that the pair hung out on Mulberry Street with Neil Dellacroce.

Detectives noticed that the men who hung out on 101st Avenue kept walking back and forth between the Bergin and a seemingly empty storefront only 10 feet away. The detectives then noticed that there were two pay telephone booths inside the store.

A check with the telephone company disclosed that the Bergin itself did not have a phone. New York Telephone records indicated that the name of the subscriber to the storefront phones was Vito Maccia's Candy Store; but neither Vito nor candy was inside, just a few chairs and the pay telephones along one wall.

The detectives installed court-approved pen registers, devices that track dialed numbers and count incoming calls. They gave a new name to the phantom candy store: "The telephone room."

The registers produced frequently called numbers. One was traced to an apartment in Ridgewood, Queens. Detective Jack Holder, a veteran of many gambling investigations, hid in the hallway outside the apartment. He kept hearing "h.e.l.lo" without hearing a phone ring. Many bookmakers use phones that announce calls with a light instead of a ring so as not to annoy neighbors.

"h.e.l.lo, yeah, who's this?" Holder heard the voice say. "Okay, go ahead ... one hundred twenty-eight for ten. Two hundred fourteen fox six ..." Holder now knew: The apartment was a "wire room."

Further surveillance showed the apartment was occupied from noon to 2 P.M. and from 6 to 8 P.M., the standard times bettors get down with bookies for the afternoon and evening action at tracks and stadiums.

Holder obtained a search warrant and found evidence of $5,000 in daily receipts. Tacked to a wall, he found a list of telephone numbers. Two belonged to the candy-store phones. One rang at Our Friends Social Club and another at Lolita's across from the Bergin. The other numbers were for phones in other social clubs or businesses in Queens and Brooklyn.

The occupant of the apartment, Peter Schiavone, was arrested on misdemeanor charges, pleaded guilty, and was fined $250. The detectives were certain that Schiavone was only a clerk, not the boss of the operation. However, they continued to watch.

Within weeks, Schiavone was spotted going in and out of a new apartment. The candy-store pen registers now showed calls to that address. Outside the Bergin, Detective Michael Falciano overheard Billy Battista and a man they knew as Frank Guidici talking about a bet that had been recorded inaccurately.

"That f.u.c.king ticket was for a thousand dollars. What does he mean, he put it in for five hundred?" Guidici said angrily. "As far as I am concerned, he owes five hundred yet."

"What the f.u.c.k you getting excited about? Call him on the f.u.c.king phone," Battista said.

Guidici entered the Bergin telephone room and called the new wire room occupied by Schiavone. The call and Guidici's words led detectives to believe that Guidici was Schiavone's boss. His actions were not those of a mere bettor. If the $500 "ticket" had been his bet, he hardly would have complained if he had lost; if he had won, he would be owed more than $500.

Back in September, Guidici had been listed along with Gotti and Angelo as targets of the Queens investigation. Here was evidence that Guidici was running a gambling operation with ties to the Bergin, which was the field headquarters of Gotti and Angelo-two disciples of the man thought to be the king of the Gambino Family, Neil Dellacroce.

The detectives intensified their investigation, taking time off only for Christmas.

On Eighty-fifth Street in Howard Beach, the Gotti home was dark; it was the first time it was unlit for Christmas holidays since the family moved there in 1973.

The still-acting boss of the Bergin, who usually went to the Yonkers or Roosevelt Raceway on Friday nights, continued to gamble and lose heavily in 1981.

The second weekend in January was a big football weekend. Gotti lost $21,000. The next weekend, he lost $16,000. Meanwhile, Source BQ said, crew members like Tony Roach, Sal DeVita, and Billy Battista could hardly afford to play the daily number.

When it came to gambling, there was more to Gotti than horses and games. On February 4, BQ told the FBI two days later, Gotti brought Atlantic City to Queens when he opened a gambling hall for Family men on the second floor of the Bergin. The main event was dice and the minimum bet was $500. It would be open six nights a week until 4 A.M.

On the first night, men from other Gambino crews and other Families dropped by. Frank DeCicco came and went away without $15,000. The hosts lost, too. Willie Boy dropped $13,000, Angelo $8,000, and Gotti $3,000. Later in the week, Mark Reiter, the future heroin defendant, won $20,000.

A month later, BQ said the game was going so well that Gotti would move it to Manhattan, to make it more accessible and to attract bigger gamblers, including "legitimate people" with Family connections. He might even admit women gamblers-an absolute taboo at the Bergin.

Early in March 1981, the game did move to Manhattan, to a building on Mott Street in Little Italy, around the corner from the Ravenite Social Club. The game, as it had in Ozone Park, rested on Sat.u.r.day, but remained a boys-only event. "Street talk indicates at this time that this particular dice game of Gotti's is the best in the New York area," a FBI memo noted.

Because the dice men were up late, they slept late, and Gotti razzed those who didn't seem to show the energy he did. A call-secretly taped-that he placed one day about 6 P.M. to a groggy Willie Boy ill.u.s.trated this. Gotti wondered why Willie Boy hadn't shown up at the Bergin yet.

"It's a new game now? Whoever goes to the f.u.c.king c.r.a.p game can sleep all f.u.c.king day?"

"I'm there every night, John."

"And where the f.u.c.k do you think I am? ... There's things to be done here. I can't do them all by myself."

Source BQ said the house of dice began each night with a bank of about $40,000 put up by twelve partners, including DeCicco and the old JFK hijack squad, John, Gene, and Angelo. "According to the informant, the house has never lost," Special Agent Colgan wrote.

Gotti, however, continued to lose. Being an owner of the game, he could borrow against the house money. At one point, he became concerned about how much others had borrowed and ordered an accounting, which showed he was the largest debtor, for $55,000.

Gotti's losses endangered the game's profits. On May 13, he lost $30,000, causing Angelo to wonder whether the only way to detoxify his gumbah gumbah was to close the game. The next day, he called Gene Gotti to complain. They used "dollar" and "balloon" as synonyms for $1,000; they also used unflattering terms to describe a man they loved, most of the time. was to close the game. The next day, he called Gene Gotti to complain. They used "dollar" and "balloon" as synonyms for $1,000; they also used unflattering terms to describe a man they loved, most of the time.

"You gotta do yourself a favor and everybody else a favor, too," Angelo began. "We gotta see how we gonna close this f.u.c.king joint in New York."

"Yeah, what happened now?"

"That f.u.c.king hard-on, you know that hard-on, the guy that your mother s.h.i.+t out."

"Go ahead."

"He lost thirty dollars last night."

"We were on top sixty balloons! I left there one-thirty, we were on top sixty balloons! We didn't need him in the f.u.c.king game!"

"I'm by the club now."

"We were on top sixty balloons-what, is he kidding somebody or what, this guy? Who the f.u.c.k needed him there? So what is he looking to do now? Just take advantage of people or what?"

"Let's see how we got to do it, Genie."

"Oh f.u.c.k him, I don't give a f.u.c.k. What is he looking to do this, this guy? Is he abusing his position, or what?"