Part 15 (1/2)
”It is the judgment of this court that the defendant, Francis Warrington Gillet III, is hereby placed on probation for a term of three years,” the judge said. ”The defendant shall also comply with the conditions of home confinement for six months.”
This meant Warrington would have stay in his apartment on the Upper East Side of New York for six months except to look for or work at a job. His phone couldn't have call-forwarding, caller ID or call-waiting. It had to be plugged into a wall. A cordless phone and a cell phone were out of the question. After that he could come and go as he pleased, as long as he remembered to follow the requirements of the U.S. Department of Probation for another two and a half years. Not a single day would he have to spend in a federal prison for the crimes he had committed during his time as Johnny Casablanca at DMN. Warrington had officially dodged the bullet.
Outside court he began making calls to let friends and family know how he'd fared. It was nothing but good news, as far as he could tell. Sure, he'd have to stay away from Wall Street for a while, which would make coughing up money for rest.i.tution and fines tough. Sure, he'd have to meet regularly with a probation officer and let him know all about how he was trying to earn money and contribute to society. Sure, he was a felon, but he would never be an inmate. Sure, he'd be barred from purchasing and owning a firearm for the rest of his life, but he could live with that. Sure, he'd have to put down this little matter on every job application he ever filled out until the day he died, but so what? His only prison would be his apartment, with cable and air-conditioning and fully stocked liquor cabinet.
d.a.m.n, Warrington thought. This is a great country.
There was only one problem. Warrington Gillet IV. Little Warry. He would have to explain it all to Little Warry. Explaining this to his fellow adults was relatively simple. Life is complicated. Sometimes you make bad decisions. Sometimes you get a little too selfish and forget your way. Adults understand these things. Kids really don't. They see things on a much simpler level. Warrington would have to let Little Warry know that his father had made huge mistakes and then gotten lucky. He would have to find just the right words, and that-more than anything-would be the most difficult task of all. In the end, after all was said and done, it really came down to one thing.
”The biggest job with your kids is the biggest job with my kid,” he said, ”and that is, you have to teach them the difference between right and wrong.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.
2004.
At 6 p.m. on a spring day in March, Robert from Avenue U found himself once again standing in a courtroom, wrangling over words with lawyers. It was after hours in the federal court in downtown Brooklyn and the issue was the organization to which Robert belonged. In the opinion of the United States attorney, Greg Andres, the organization was the Bonanno crime family and Robert Lino was a captain with supervisory responsibilities. The prosecutor was insisting that Robert from Avenue U say the actual words, ”Bonanno crime family.” Robert from Avenue U was not pleased at this development. He'd agreed to plead guilty to several crimes and say he was a member of a group, but he was not about to say anything about any Bonanno crime family.
None of this had anything to do with Wall Street and pump and dump and corrupt brokers and stock promoters and DMN. This was all about everything going on behind the curtain, and the reason they were all a.s.sembled was because of Robert's uncle and mentor, Frank Lino. Frank had gone and turned himself into a cooperator for the FBI and started talking about all his friends, including his nephew, the kid from Midwood he'd helped raise as a favor to his cousin, Bobby Lino Sr.
Frank had given up Robert from Avenue U in a heartbeat. He'd told the FBI all about the murder of Louis Tuzzio, the one in which Robert was the shooter. He'd also remembered the business about Robert Perrino, the guy from the New York Post New York Post Robert helped with. There were many other stories to recall, harkening all the way back to dark winter nights digging into the frozen ground of Staten Island to find a final resting place for Gabe Infanti, then trying again a few years later to find Gabe and not succeeding. Frank had a remarkable memory for detail, and as a result, Robert now faced the possibility of spending the rest of his life in prison. Robert helped with. There were many other stories to recall, harkening all the way back to dark winter nights digging into the frozen ground of Staten Island to find a final resting place for Gabe Infanti, then trying again a few years later to find Gabe and not succeeding. Frank had a remarkable memory for detail, and as a result, Robert now faced the possibility of spending the rest of his life in prison.
Robert had agreed to admit to certain activities at this particular court session. And at first, things had gone along as planned. His lawyer, Barry Levin, and the prosecutor, Greg Andres, did not seem to get along at all. The judge, Nicholas Garaufis, kept stepping in to smooth things over. The task at hand was fairly simple: Robert had to plead guilty to four counts related to a lengthy racketeering indictment brought against much of the Bonanno crime family, which Robert did not wish to acknowledge the existence of.
”The defendant needs to acknowledge that the enterprise charged in the indictment is the enterprise with which he a.s.sociated,” said the prosecutor.
”But he need not allocute to the name of the enterprise?” the judge asked.
”Correct, Judge,” replied the prosecutor.
They came up with a plan to give Robert twenty-seven years in prison. He was thirty-seven, so that meant if he behaved in prison and got a little time off as a reward, he still wouldn't be walking out on to the streets of America until he was sixty. A sobering thought for a man not yet forty.
Lino-who barely got out of elementary school-began to read a prepared statement describing his crimes.
”Your Honor, I am not such a good reader and I don't have prescription gla.s.ses, so bear with me.”
”Take your time,” said the judge.
”I, Robert Lino, withdraw my previous plea of not guilty under case number 03 CR 0307 S20 and enter a plea of guilty to Count One of the superseding indictment . . . charging me with violation of t.i.tle 18 of United States Code Section 1962 D. That I joined an a.s.sociation of individuals and I conspired to commit the following criminal acts.”
”Go ahead,” said the judge.
”I was involved in illegal gambling and sports betting. Acts 15.” Lino stopped. He couldn't read what was written. His lawyer, Levin, jumped in.
”Between January 1, 1989, and January 1, 2003. Your Honor, it is my chicken scratch, so I have to apologize to the court.”
Robert summed it up: ”I was taking bets on sports and that is it.”
The judge asked, ”Were you taking bets?”
”On sports,” Lino replied.
”Did this activity involve five or more people?”
”Five or more bets? Yes.”
And so on. Soon it got around to the murder of Louis Tuzzio, the same Louis Tuzzio that Robert Lino personally shot in the face. The judge said, ”As to Racketeering Act 16, the conspiracy to murder and the murder of Louis Tuzzio.”
Robert Lino said, ”I partic.i.p.ated in the conspiracy to murder and the actual murder of Louis Tuzzio between December 1989 and January 3 of 1990.”
The prosecutor interjected: ”The government would prove at trial that Mr. Lino was, in fact, the shooter on the Tuzzio murder.”
”All right,” said the court.
Next up was Robert Perrino, a man who died by another's hand. Robert Lino merely helped clean up afterward, which in a murder conspiracy was more or less as bad as being the guy who pulled the trigger.
The judge: ”What did you do in furtherance of the conspiracy, what activity?”
Lino said, ”I cleaned up the . . .”
The judge: ”You cleaned up?”
Lino: ”Yes, I cleaned up the . . .”
The judge, turning to the prosecutor, asked, ”Is that sufficient for you?