Last week, the FBI’s New York Field Office hosted its inaugural Hate Crimes Symposium at 290 Broadway in Lower Manhattan. The symposium, coordinated by FBI Supervisory Special Agent Anthony Bivona, aimed to extend the FBI’s reach into the communities they serve by providing them with valuable information as it relates to federal hate crime violations. In addition to speakers from the FBI, representatives from the Department of Justice, the New York City Police Department, and the non-profit Life After Hate provided the backdrop for this event.
“Investigating hate crimes is the highest priority of the FBI’s Civil Rights program. Today’s symposium is a reminder of our commitment to continue working with our partners to make sure justice is served for communities that have been victimized by crimes or threats of this nature,” said FBI New York Assistant Director in Charge William F. Sweeney, Jr.
"Investigating acts of hate is one of the highest priorities for the New York City Police Department," said Police Commissioner James P. O'Neill. "Over the last year, we have seen hate crimes in this city on the rise. Fortunately, the NYPD has dozens of our best detectives assigned to fully investigate every incident. I am thankful to the help from the FBI—and many others—who have worked jointly on many cases, including the recent series of threats made against Jewish institutions in New York City."
Groups that preach hatred and intolerance have a devastating impact on families and communities, and they can plant the seed of terrorism here in our country. The FBI investigates hundreds of these cases every year and works to detect and deter further incidents through law enforcement training, public outreach, and partnerships with a myriad of community groups.
Traditionally, FBI investigations of hate crimes were limited to crimes in which the perpetrators acted based on a bias against the victim’s race, color, religion, or national origin. In addition, investigations were restricted to those wherein the victim was engaged in a federally protected activity. With the passage of the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr. Hate Crimes Prevention Act of 2009, the Bureau became authorized to investigate these crimes without this prohibition. This landmark legislation also expanded the role of the FBI to allow for the investigation of hate crimes committed against those based on biases of actual or perceived sexual orientation, gender identity, disability, or gender.
Also last week, in an effort to pool together all available resources in confronting this threat, the FBI has embedded a representative from the New York State Police within their Civil Rights Program. As with all of their partners who assist them in so many of their law enforcement efforts, including the U.S. Attorneys’ Offices from the Eastern and Southern Districts of New York, they’re looking forward to broadening this relationship for the benefit of FBI and the public alike.
New York State Police Superintendent George P. Beach, II said, "This new level of partnership between the state police and the FBI is unprecedented and only strengthens our ability to respond to the threat posed by hate crimes. I want to thank the FBI New York and Assistant Director in Charge William F. Sweeney, Jr. for sharing our commitment to protect all New Yorkers."
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
Monday, April 10, 2017
Cook County Judge Myles Assassinated
A judge involved in several high-profile cases in Chicago was shot and killed outside his home Monday morning, police said.
Cook County Judge Raymond Myles, 66, and a 52-year-old woman were both shot outside the home on Chicago's South Side, police said. The woman, described as "a close associate of the judge," is expected to survive, Chicago police Chief of Detectives Melissa Staples said.
Myles was involved in the case against William Balfour, who was convicted of killing singer and actress Jennifer Hudson's mother, brother and 7-year-old nephew, WGN reported. The judge was also involved in the case of the 1993 massacre at a Brown's Chicken fast food restaurant in Palatine, Illinois, WGN reported.
Staples said it was not clear whether Myles was targeted due to his work as a judge. "We're investigating a multitude of possible leads," she said.
Police said the woman was walking out of a home around 5 a.m. when she encountered the gunman.
"Upon hearing the commotion and the gunshot, Judge Myles exited his residence to investigate," Staples said. Myles and the shooter exchanged words, and the gunman shot Myles multiple times.
Staples said the two victims were known to regularly leave the home around 5 a.m. "They would tend to go work out every morning together," Staples said.
Police said they are investigating whether robbery may have been a motive, but so far, it does not appear any property was stolen.
Authorities have not released a detailed description of the gunman, who remains at large. The FBI is offering a $25,000 reward for anyone with information leading to the arrest of the killer.
Cook County Judge Raymond Myles, 66, and a 52-year-old woman were both shot outside the home on Chicago's South Side, police said. The woman, described as "a close associate of the judge," is expected to survive, Chicago police Chief of Detectives Melissa Staples said.
Myles was involved in the case against William Balfour, who was convicted of killing singer and actress Jennifer Hudson's mother, brother and 7-year-old nephew, WGN reported. The judge was also involved in the case of the 1993 massacre at a Brown's Chicken fast food restaurant in Palatine, Illinois, WGN reported.
Staples said it was not clear whether Myles was targeted due to his work as a judge. "We're investigating a multitude of possible leads," she said.
Police said the woman was walking out of a home around 5 a.m. when she encountered the gunman.
"Upon hearing the commotion and the gunshot, Judge Myles exited his residence to investigate," Staples said. Myles and the shooter exchanged words, and the gunman shot Myles multiple times.
Staples said the two victims were known to regularly leave the home around 5 a.m. "They would tend to go work out every morning together," Staples said.
Police said they are investigating whether robbery may have been a motive, but so far, it does not appear any property was stolen.
Authorities have not released a detailed description of the gunman, who remains at large. The FBI is offering a $25,000 reward for anyone with information leading to the arrest of the killer.
Your Witness: Lessons on Cross-Examination and Life from Great Chicago Trial Lawyers
In Your Witness: Lessons on Cross-Examination, fifty of the nation’s top trial lawyers share the secrets of the most engaging
, difficult, and dramatic aspect of their work – cross-examination.
These secrets are revealed through richly told courtroom “war stories” with a point. While the stories contain some interesting bits of Chicago “color” – mobsters, corrupt politicians and businessmen, street gangs, mass murderers, sports figures, Nobel Laureates, and Colonel McCormick of the Tribune – many of the stories occur across the nation, and the book has broad appeal to lawyers and non-lawyers alike.
Thomas Anthony Durkin, William Kunkle, Don H. Reuben, Edward L. Foote, Robert F. Coleman, Michael T. Hannafan. R. Eugene Pincham, Michael J. Morrissey, Sam F. Adams, C. Barry Montgomery, Robert W. Tarun, Jo-Anne F. Wolfson, Charles B. Sklarsky, Matthias A. Lydon, Gordon B. Nash, Steven P. Handler, Michael W. Coffield, Richard A. Halprin, George N. Leighton, Thomas M. Chrisham, James S. Montana, Jr., Michael D. Monico, Marc W. Martin, Steven F. Molo, Peter C. John, Donald Hubert, Patrick A. Tuite, Raymond J. Smith, Walter Jones, Jr., Jeffrey E. Stone, Chris C. Gair, Robert L. Byman, James R. Figliulo, Philip S. Beck, Donald G. Kempf, Jr., Anton R. Valukas, Dan K. Webb, Patricia C. Bobb, Lorna E. Propes, Allan A. Ackerman, Terrence F. MacCarthy, Thomas Breen, Thomas M. Durkin, Vincent J. Connelly, Charles W. Douglas Manuael Sanchez, James D. Montgomery, William J. Martin, Robert A. Clifford, Thomas A. Demetrio
, difficult, and dramatic aspect of their work – cross-examination.These secrets are revealed through richly told courtroom “war stories” with a point. While the stories contain some interesting bits of Chicago “color” – mobsters, corrupt politicians and businessmen, street gangs, mass murderers, sports figures, Nobel Laureates, and Colonel McCormick of the Tribune – many of the stories occur across the nation, and the book has broad appeal to lawyers and non-lawyers alike.
Chapter Authors
Thomas Anthony Durkin, William Kunkle, Don H. Reuben, Edward L. Foote, Robert F. Coleman, Michael T. Hannafan. R. Eugene Pincham, Michael J. Morrissey, Sam F. Adams, C. Barry Montgomery, Robert W. Tarun, Jo-Anne F. Wolfson, Charles B. Sklarsky, Matthias A. Lydon, Gordon B. Nash, Steven P. Handler, Michael W. Coffield, Richard A. Halprin, George N. Leighton, Thomas M. Chrisham, James S. Montana, Jr., Michael D. Monico, Marc W. Martin, Steven F. Molo, Peter C. John, Donald Hubert, Patrick A. Tuite, Raymond J. Smith, Walter Jones, Jr., Jeffrey E. Stone, Chris C. Gair, Robert L. Byman, James R. Figliulo, Philip S. Beck, Donald G. Kempf, Jr., Anton R. Valukas, Dan K. Webb, Patricia C. Bobb, Lorna E. Propes, Allan A. Ackerman, Terrence F. MacCarthy, Thomas Breen, Thomas M. Durkin, Vincent J. Connelly, Charles W. Douglas Manuael Sanchez, James D. Montgomery, William J. Martin, Robert A. Clifford, Thomas A. Demetrio
Thursday, April 06, 2017
How Did Chicago became a Cultural Capital of Crime?
The thing outsiders know about Chicago is crime. The mobsters, the street drug gangs, the corrupt operators—these are the most sensationalized aspects of the city. But they are also key factors in its ongoing narrative, the one true Great American Novel that is Chicago. The city with a fiery creation myth grew into a blue-collar metropolis with the help of oily, feudal political machines and assorted local species of crook, leaving a deep, ugly legacy. It is written in our street grid, our transit lines, and our segregated accents, in which one can still hear both the old white ethnic strongholds and the Great Migration. It can be a very beautiful city, especially at night. In those icy parts of winter that have become more rare since I first moved here, the unique nighttime color of Chicago reflects in every direction. The flatness of the landscape and the straightness of the streets bring its divisions into deep focus. I’m proud to show it off. It is a city on the prairie, and therefore a city of the plain, like Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis.
For a time in the 1850s, there were so many problems with drainage that it became a swamp and had to raise itself up on jackscrews. So really, a Chicagoan has their pick of origin stories. The curse of the so-called Second City is that it lends itself effortlessly to symbolism and especially to metaphor, to the point that you start to believe that it just might be one. I’ve lived here longer now than I have anywhere else, and I have come to love this aspect of the city. When Chicagoans speak—whether they are true locals or transplants like myself, who have come to its ways through prolonged exposure—they speak its complicated history. This is the diverse Southern-inflected sound of black Chicago, the “Chi-cah-go” and “Chi-caw-go” pronunciations that classify white accents, and that perfect formulation of terse Midwesternese, the stranded “with,” as in the classic “You wanna come with?” They say “jagoff” is a Pittsburgh word, but Chicago owns it.
Really, there are many Chicagos, bound almost psychically. It is better maybe to try to grasp it in terms of its architecture—which is really one of the most beautiful things about it—and planning. For instance, Chicago is the alley capital of the world. There are about 1,900 miles of alleyways running through almost every block of the city, regulated to a minimum width of 16 feet, some much wider. The alley is part of day-to-day life in Chicago: It’s where we take our shortcuts and bring our trash. It’s why Chicago doesn’t smell as bad as other big cities. It lacks that note of garbage that gives New York streets their character. The kind of buildings we call two- or three-flats, whether brick, frame, or Indiana limestone (called “greystone” locally), will often have a gangway, a passage that lets you cut from the sidewalk to the alley. My favorites are the ones that dip under a protruding oriel. And most of the apartments in those two- and three-flats will have two doors, one in the front and one in the rear. It’s a city of backstreets and backdoors.
Chicago crime is a unique phenomenon. In broad statistics, it is not that dangerous a place; the rates of burglary and theft are low for an American city, and many of its neighborhoods experience negligible violent crime. This is a common defense tactic for Chicagoans, especially white Chicagoans—the “well, not my Chicago” plea. But this is as much a fantasy as the Trumpian burning of the quote-unquote “inner city.” Chicago crime inspires fascination because it is entrenched and so specific, so troublingly connected to a diverse city that otherwise eludes broad social generalizations. One fact about Chicago is that it has more nicknames in common circulation than any other place in this country, all of them kind of tacky: the Windy City, the Second City, Chi-Town and its pun variations, the City Of Big Shoulders. There are many others, too. Defining the spirit of Chicago is a bad parlor game. The nice parts of it are very nice, but for more than 90 years, it has been world-famous as a place where people get gunned down in the street. Throughout its history runs a succession of criminal boom industries: gambling, policy, liquor, crack, heroin.
The criminal conglomerates of Prohibition and the small sets of the West Side’s Heroin Highway are part of one uninterrupted story, though unwittingly. The story is the city. It goes back to the 1870s and the reign of “Big Mike” McDonald as the king of Chicago’s gambling underworld. It goes through generations of increasingly more effective political machines and increasingly larger criminal syndicates, colluding in political and commercial networks that made the street gangs seem like the inevitable result of a complicated equation. Let us assume a few things here as starting points: that the city and its underworlds have existed for a long time in a relationship that is more complex than host and parasite; that political and criminal groups in the city, however big or small, play variations on a similar game involving the flow and direction of movement; and that the city is itself a crossroads, its entire story defined by lines of interstate transit, be it the Illinois Central Railroad that transported half a million black job-seekers from the South during the Great Migration, or the Sinaloa Cartel network from which most of the cocaine and heroin of its current drug economy is believed to originate.
For Chicago, there is no artistic or cultural history without its social history, no social history without its political history, and no political history without crime. The mob is a staple of our tourist kitsch industry: the Al Capone T-shirt and the Untouchables bus tour, right up there with Mike Ditka’s hairspray, the goddamn Blues Brothers, and that casserole we call a deep-dish pizza. But the mob was always corny, even at its scariest. For decades, it was almost everywhere. I’ll give you an example: The Russian bathhouse immortalized by Saul Bellow in Humboldt’s Gift was actually a mob hangout. It was still owned by an Outfit family in the years that I lived across from it on Division Street, one of the more darkly perfect street names in Chicago.
Michael Mann’s 1981 debut feature
, Thief (Special Director's Edition), is to my mind the best Chicago crime film set after Prohibition and one of the great artistic interpretations of the city’s nocturnal character. It was made in the last years that Chicago nights glowed bluish-green, before the city had completed the changeover from mercury vapor lighting to the sodium vapor lamps that produce its present honey-bronze haze. Much as alleyways have both a practical and a mystical relationship to the city’s networks of crime, so it is possible to chart eras of criminality through the history of its public lighting. Crime is a largely nocturnal activity, after all, as are most of the vices on which the city’s criminal syndicates were built. In the Prohibition and Great Depression golden age of Chicago crime, most of the streets were still gas-lit and very dim. This was the fabled era of the Tommy Gun mobsters, but also of the bank-robbing outlaw, embodied by the Chicago-based Dillinger Gang, the subject of Mann’s underappreciated crime epic Public Enemies. Mercury vapor arrived in the mid-1950s, along with Richard J. Daley’s Democratic political machine and the solidification of the Chicago Outfit, the white mob, which in those years finally murdered and intimidated its way into the territory of the city’s forgotten black crime syndicates. The most recognizable type of streetlight in Chicago was introduced in this era. It’s a bucket-shaped design unique to the city, called the General Electric Crimefighter.
Thief is not a film about the Outfit, but it features an Outfit operative as a character, played by the avuncular stage veteran Robert Prosky. You have probably seen a picture of Al Capone. Chances are it’s the glamour shot with his head turned and the cigar stuffed in his cheek and the size 6 7/8 cream-white Borsalino on his little head. This is the most flattering picture of Capone. As a young man, he had the pudgy face and baggy eyes of a fortysomething bank manager. He was 26 when he inherited Johnny Torrio’s criminal empire and was out of power by the age of 33. But in movies and TV, he is always played by older actors, trimmer or more barrel-chested, always tougher-looking than the real man: Rod Steiger in Al Capone; Neville Brand, Robert De Niro, and William Forsythe in successive versions of The Untouchables; Jason Robards in The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre; Stephen Graham on Boardwalk Empire. But there were never any handsome gangsters. They were all funny-looking, and with the exception of the flashy Capone years, they dressed like shit.
The Outfit was the successor to Capone’s organization, and in that era of mercury vapor lighting, when the tint of the night suggested an extended twilight, their look was Sansabelt, grandpa glasses, and starched short sleeves. Mann grew up in the long-gone Jewish quarter of the Humboldt Park neighborhood, as did Saul Bellow a generation earlier, and he is one of the few to try to capture this banal, used-car-salesman aspect of the Chicago mob. To me, he is one of the geniuses of the genre; in all of his crime films, there is a complex dialogue between authenticity and archetype. His favorite type of verisimilitude is the kind that directly contradicts expectations. In Thief, for instance, the safe-cracker played by James Caan—the first of the single-minded professionals that would become Mann’s contribution to the mythology of the crime genre—doesn’t press the resonator of a stethoscope against a door and listen to the tumblers; he uses an industrial oxygen lance, lent to Mann by an actual Chicago-area burglar. And while Prosky’s role might seem like a case of casting against type, if you look at pictures of Outfit bosses from the time, that’s what they all looked like.But here’s the thing: The imagery Mann subverts with this more realistic portrayal—and uses to formulate his own mythology—is also Chicagoan in origin. It was Chicago that birthed both the gangster picture and the notion of street criminal chic, and it really took until The Godfather for there to be a major American film that took its cues from the clannish organized crime culture of the East Coast. Even the great New York gangster movies that came before The Godfather, like Raoul Walsh’s The Roaring Twenties and Budd Boetticher’s The Rise And Fall Of Legs Diamond, are based on an archetype born of the Second City. Most film historians will tell you that there are two definitive early gangster films: Underworld, directed in 1927 by Josef Von Sternberg, and Howard Hawks’ insurmountable 1932 Scarface. Both are set in Chicago, as were almost all early American gangster movies—Little Caesar, The Public Enemy, the whole lot. The gritty city stuck in the imagination of ’30s Hollywood much in the same way as Paris and Vienna did, less a real-world setting than a genre in and of itself. Films about criminal gangs go back to the early 1900s, but they depict their bad guys mostly as ragged, unshaven goons in flat caps. The seductive criminals of the silent era are swindlers and masterminds. The idea that coarse, murderous thugs could be flamboyant, magnetic, and sexy—that comes from the Chicago of Al Capone and John Dillinger.
Both Underworld and Scarface were based on stories by Ben Hecht, though the latter was nominally adapted from a forgotten pulp novel of the time. Before he became one of the greatest screenwriters in the history of Hollywood, Hecht was a Chicago Daily News crime reporter, an experience he would draw on many times—most famously in The Front Page, one of several collaborations with his crime-desk colleague Charles MacArthur, subsequently reworked as His Girl Friday. Hecht was one of a number of literary men who worked in the Chicago dailies of the 1920s (the poet Carl Sandburg was also at the Chicago Daily News at the time), and the best of a tradition of newspapermen who treated the job of columnist as though it made them prose-poet laureate of Chicago. A reader of modernist and symbolist literature, he was also involved in the Little Review, the Chicago literary magazine famous as the first publisher of James Joyce’s Ulysses, which was originally serialized over several years in its pages. In Underworld, released at a time when Joyce’s landmark novel was still banned as obscene in the United States, there is a villainous Irish gangster named Buck Mulligan, after the central character of the first chapter of Ulysses—a fact that I’ve always found amusing.
The classic, Hecht-ian gangster drew on the public’s morbid fascination with Chicago crime to create something almost modernist—this wanton criminal as an epic figure in an expressively metaphorical cityscape. This is true of Scarface, a masterpiece that was the work of a number of remarkable talents, not just Hawks and Hecht. One of the many memorable things about Scarface is the use of signage as commentary and ironic counterpoint: the famous “The World Is Yours” travel ad (carried over in Brian De Palma’s loose 1983 remake); the body lying under the crossed shadow of a signboard that reads “Undertakers”; the lit-up marquee of the club called “Paradise No. 2.” The Godfather would refashion the gangster as a creature of family and loyalty, but in his original conception, he was a creature of the city. Scarface’s Capone-inspired title character doesn’t rise to power in the middle of nowhere, but in a darkly comic metropolis that seems to empower and mock him in equal measure. In other words, he rises to power in Chicago.
It should be pointed out that almost all Chicago-set Hollywood films produced from the late 1920s to the 1970s are about mobsters, crime, or corruption. We’re talking Nicholas Ray’s Party Girl, assorted half-remembered noirs, various versions of the Roxie Hart story (including one written by Ben Hecht), the premise of Some Like It Hot. Of these, only Arthur Penn’s Mickey One, the film that first attempted to apply a French New Wave sensibility to home-grown pulp, did any substantial filming here, capturing both its decrepit alleys and its modernist architecture in stark black-and-white. It was only in the 1980s that the city became a popular filming location. Perhaps Thief seems definitive because it represents a point of merger—between the mythology of the city and its reality, which already seems fairly stylized.
The great musical legacy of Chicago is the modernization and urbanization of the blues, a rural sound that was electrified by the city and laid the groundwork for most popular music that has come since. One important but underappreciated figure in its development was Kokomo Arnold, who played a rapid bottleneck-slide-guitar blues in a style that still sounds rock ’n’ roll. It is said that he came to Chicago as a bootlegger in the 1920s, but was forced to rely on his musical talents for a living after the end of Prohibition, trading one business of handling bottles for another. However, when it comes to stories about bluesmen, one can never be sure. Arnold’s recording of “Old Original Kokomo Blues” was reworked by the Delta bluesman Robert Johnson into “Sweet Home Chicago,” now the de facto anthem of the city. “Sweet Home Chicago” isn’t actually about Chicago. It uses the name of the city figuratively. It has to be the most singable place name in American English: Chi-ca-go, those three syllables, each ending in a different vowel sound. It lends itself to varied interpretation.
More so than any place in America and perhaps even the world, Chicago was founded on the idea of a city; before it had developed a cultural life of its own, it was a word, a notion, and a destination, ballooning over the second half of the 19th century from a smallish midland settlement into what was then the fifth largest city in the world. It is a place that inspires ideals—from the Wobblies to the aesthetic of Afrofuturism, the Hull House to the tradition of philosophizing architects embodied by Louis Sullivan, Daniel Burnham, and Frank Lloyd Wright. But how much of Chicago’s idealistic streak is a reaction to its cynical pragmatism? For as long as it has deserved to be called a city, Chicago has had problems with disenfranchisement, corruption, and crime—problems that seem like they were almost designed into the city. I’ll point out here that in his Whitman-esque poem “Chicago,” which is the source of the nickname “the City Of Big Shoulders,” Carl Sandburg also writes: “Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.” And this is the definitive celebration of the city.
It was Nelson Algren who mastered the art of making Chicago’s seediness sound like an exotic quality. He is best known for his novel The Man With The Golden Arm, which is set on that same mythologized stretch of Division Street that was home to Saul Bellow’s Russian bathhouse. Here, I’ll point out that Otto Preminger’s well-known 1955 film adaptation, starring Frank Sinatra as a heroin-addicted jazz drummer, was co-written by an uncredited Hecht, because everything somehow intersects in the novel of Chicago. It opens with a prowling long take down an evocative soundstage street that bears only a faint resemblance to the real city. It’s a Chicago of the imagination, but so are most. In his essay “Chicago: City On The Make,” published two years after The Man With The Golden Arm, Algren gave the city one of its most famous panegyrics: “Like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never a lovely so real.” Like so many Chicago transplants who came here in the mid-2000s to lead a quasi-bohemian existence, I have this passage memorized. But it did not occur to me until many years later to ask who broke the woman’s nose.
Iceberg Slim on the cover of his 1976 spoken-word album, Reflections.
The fact is that, while the crime and corruption provide links between Chicago’s countless neighborhoods, their effects have always been graded by skin color. I know of no black writer of the same periods who wrote of Chicago crime as a sign of its resilient spirit, as Sandburg did, or as an Algren-esque existential quality, the proof of its hustle—not even Iceberg Slim, who was second only to Ben Hecht in developing and popularizing the mythology of the street criminal. Slim—who was born Robert Maupin, but took Robert Beck as his legal name in middle age—had been a dapper pimp in the black underworld of Chicago and the upper Midwest in the 1940s and 1950s, until a breakdown in the Cook County Jail led him to retire. He had been known as Cavanaugh Slim. It was while working as an exterminator in Los Angeles that he wrote his autobiographical novel Pimp: The Story Of My Life, a bestseller that would come to define the voice of gritty urban pulp. Along with his subsequent crime novels and the follow-up memoir The Naked Soul Of Iceberg Slim: Robert Beck’s Real Story, it would exert a profound aesthetic and thematic influence on gangsta rap, blaxploitation films and black variations on noir (Bill Duke’s Deep Cover, for example), and the prose of a vast array of fiction writers, most notably Donald Goines and Irvine Welsh.
Slim was a complicated figure. Like Chester Himes, the godfather of black noir, and Ed Jones, the most powerful black kingpin of Slim’s early years in Chicago, he had a go at a respectable college education before lapsing into crime—though, admittedly, he already had a lengthy rap sheet by the time he arrived at Tuskegee, where he was a student around the same time as Ralph Ellison. As a prose writer, he was ecstatic and contradictory, the king of mixed metaphors, capable of lucidly deconstructing the misogyny and self-loathing of his criminal past one moment and juicing readers with lurid sexual exploits the next. Like Hecht, he sculpted the seductive aspect of Chicago crime—but in place of the classic gangster film’s anti-social pizzazz, what he presented was a cool, toughened nihilism. Perhaps Slim came to believe his own legend. After he found recognition as a writer, he adopted the public image of a wocka-wocka mid-1970s pimp, though his own heyday had been in the days of boogie-woogie and parted hair.
Indulge me now and take a moment to listen to “County Jail Blues,” a 1941 B-side by the Chicago blues pianist Big Maceo Merriweather. It’s an ageless song, and, in my opinion, one of the great overlooked blues recordings of the 1940s. The guitarist is Tampa Red, who played a gold-plated steel-body guitar that sounds remarkably like an electric. In its ideal form, blues is not glamorous music.
The cultural legacy of Chicago crime is really two stories, but they are intertwined. The first is a story of myths, plucked from the streets and alleys of the city and fermented in the popular imagination. The second is a complex narrative of devil’s bargains between art, business, political machinery, and crime. It stretches from the brothels of the early 20th century to the super-sized media conglomerates of the present day. Let me relate one small part of it.
The first black millionaires in America were probably policy kings, most likely in that densely populated area of the South Side that was then known as the Black Belt. Policy was an illegal lottery in which winning numbers were drawn from policy wheels (often rigged), which in Chicago bore such names as the Airplane, the Kentucky Derby, and the Prince Albert. It was a huge enterprise, with each wheel having its own drops, runners, and policy writers—not to mention a whole sub-industry of numerologists and hucksters who called themselves “policy professors” and hawked dream-based winning formulae in the ad pages of the Chicago Defender. If you want to try to get a sense of the spirit of the time, take a listen to “Four Eleven Forty-Four,” by Papa Charlie Jackson, the sardonic, banjo-playing chronicler of life in Chicago’s black neighborhoods in the 1920s and the first commercially successful self-accompanied blues musician; the title is the prototypical number combination, or gig, and a byword for policy itself.
The great policy kings are mostly forgotten now: Policy Sam, Mushmouth Johnson, Teenan Jones, Ed Jones (no relation) and his brothers, Dan Jackson, Teddy Roe. But their influence on the economic and political life of the city can’t be overstated. For the first half of the 20th century, the white powers that be considered them essential to the black vote in Chicago. When it comes to this city’s history, one should probably always think cynically and feudally: a community where the largest local employer, voter registration effort, charity, and source of capital is a single criminal racket is a corrupt administrator’s dream. Political machines gave policy kings leeway to keep them in power. During their reign, the center of black nightlife in Chicago was a section of the Bronzeville neighborhood known as “The Stroll.” How perfect is that, in a city where control is synonymous with directing movement?
The 1920s and ’30s were Chicago’s heyday as a center of jazz talent and innovation. One of the most important clubs of this era was the Grand Terrace, known in its early years as the Sunset Cafe. The building—originally a garage, and until recently a hardware store—still stands on 35th Street. This was where Louis Armstrong became a star with a teenage Cab Calloway as his master of ceremonies, where Nat King Cole got his first break, and where the trailblazing pianist and bandleader Earl “Fatha” Hines had his 12-year residency, playing a piano bought for him by Al Capone. In the ’30s, the Grand Terrace had its own national radio show, broadcast live every night. Policy kings owned many popular clubs on The Stroll, including Palm Tavern (owned by Genial Jim Knight) and the Elite No. 2 (owned by Teenan Jones), which I’m almost certain inspired the similarly comical name of Scarface’s Paradise No. 2. But the most lucrative and glamorous spots were integrated black-and-tan clubs like the Grand Terrace and the Plantation, which was located across the street. Both were controlled by the Capone organization through Jewish associates.
Unlike the Outfit that succeeded him, Capone made a point of leaving the black syndicates alone. There were many reasons for this, including the fact that the mob and the policy kings were both colluding with the Republican political machine headed by Mayor William H. Thompson, a flagrantly corrupt figure who believed that the one true enemy of America was the British crown. But the one that matters here is the mob’s intended audience. The Grand Terrace attracted many wealthy black customers, from bona fide celebrities to local crime lords (Icerberg Slim’s mentor, “Baby” Bell, spent there lavishly), but it was designed to draw in white money. Anyone who wanted to make a career in Chicago had to play the mob’s segregated circuit. The white jazzmen (including such talents-in-training as Gene Krupa and Benny Goodman) mostly played whites-only venues, while the black jazzmen played black-and-tan clubs, where white musicians could sit and play if they wanted. The privilege did not go the other way around.
Thus, the mob invisibly controlled the direction of musical influence, as it did so many other things that may seem intangible. Its monopoly on early Chicago jazz had many consequences, one of which was an eventual exodus of talent, beginning with the great cornetist King Oliver, who led the band at the Plantation Café. Oliver was a true tragic figure; he gradually lost his teeth and the ability to play to severe gum disease, ended up working as a janitor in a pool hall, and died broke in a rooming house. In the mythology of jazz, his downfall into obscurity and fatal poverty is all the result of his refusal to take a lowball offer for a regular gig at the Cotton Club, which instead catapulted Duke Ellington to stardom. This is the thing to remember: Much of the formative 1930s period of jazz, a music with deep black roots, happened on terms set by white criminals. After the black-and-tan clubs went out of fashion toward the end of the 1930s, the Chicago mob got into coin-operated jukeboxes. Thankfully, they never developed an interest in blues.
Regardless of age or gender, Chicago will turn you into an old man giving directions. Every story reminds of another story, and a story of something that used to be there—because it’s really all one story. After the Outfit took control of policy and bolita, a similar numbers game popular in the city’s Latino neighborhoods, they became absorbed into the gambling and vice empire of the Rush Street crew, whose day-to-day manager went daily to Saul Bellow’s beloved Russian bathhouse on Division Street. The Grand Terrace, having finally gone out of business, became the headquarters of the Democratic congressman William L. Dawson. He was the black sub-boss of Chicago’s political machine, and, in theory, the most powerful black politician of the 1950s. He didn’t redecorate the Grand Terrace. It still had its big neon sign (with a smaller sign with his name added) and its Jazz Age murals and private upstairs clubrooms. The last regular bandleader at the Grand Terrace had been the jazz iconoclast Sun Ra, who was then just developing his sci-fi aesthetic in Chicago.
Dawson’s position within the political machine was a feudal lordship; it was dependent on his ability to bring out black voters en masse. The political machine, in turn, depended on segregation and on interchanges with the underworld. The link between the Outfit’s earlier inroads on The Stroll and the Democratic political machine’s command of the post-war black voting block was made literal and blatant by the continued use of the Grand Terrace. There, Dawson’s landlord was Joe Glaser, the manager of Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday and a longtime Outfit man. Glaser, who had an early history of walking away from sexual-assault charges, had been a boxing promoter who specialized in fixing fights for the mob and then a manager of black-and-tan clubs. After the repeal of Prohibition destroyed the Outfit’s stranglehold over Chicago liquor, he would rob delivery trucks to stock the bar of the Grand Terrace.
The management company Glaser created—and willed to the Outfit lawyer and power broker Sidney Korshak, unbeknownst to Armstrong—was funded by a loan from Jules Stein, an ophthalmologist, former bar mitzvah musician, and jazz booker for the Chicago mob circuit. Stein’s booking company was MCA, which started with speakeasies and black-and-tan clubs and became the largest talent agency in the world by the end of 1930s, all while being effectively controlled by the Capone organization. It acquired Universal Pictures, and expanded beyond talent management into film, television, music, and publishing. It kept its ties to the Outfit and carried over the city’s culture of patronage to Hollywood, where it encouraged the political ambitions of its client Ronald Reagan. At the start of this century, it merged with Vivendi to create NBCUniversal and Universal Music Group. This is the story of the Outfit controlling who worked in one building in Chicago. It’s a big city. There are many buildings.
If you are ever in Chicago, consider taking a drive through the city at night. Let the car rattle on the badly pockmarked streets. Your eyes will adjust to the amber sear of the General Electric Crimefighters and to that other feature of Chicago nighttimes, the blue flash of a police camera box. There are thousands mounted around the city. Turn down an alley and think of the fact that even in the earliest plat of Chicago, dating to the 1830s, there were plans for alleyways. Park the car, get out, and study how the dimensions and alignment of the streets and sidewalks affect your movements. Don’t think of crime as troglofauna, pale and eyeless, evolving in the dank corners of the city. In Chicago, crime moves, often along currents defined by earlier forms of crime. It’s structural.
Given that they have brought Chicago its most sensationalized coverage since the days of Al Capone, it seems interesting that there have been no real fiction films about the street gangs. Spike Lee’s Chi-Raq doesn’t count. Its portrayal of Chicago’s gangland is pure fantasy, influenced by the mythology of gangsta rap—which is to say, indirectly indebted to Iceberg Slim. Even in fiction, the city can’t escape the myths it inspires. You could say that about drill, our distinctive midtempo flavor of nihilistic trap rap. Drill tends to be oversimplified as the authentic sound of modern Chicago crime, which is how it sells itself, existing as it does in a complicated relationship with the histories and ongoing conflicts of Chicago’s drug gangs, grouped in the increasingly meaningless six-pointed-star Folk and five-pointed-star People alliances.
Really, drill is internet music. It owes its local significance, popularity, and very existence to limitless digital space and social media. Drill is the dizzying, exhaustive braggadocio of Montana Of 300’s “Holy Ghost”; the squishy nausea of Lil Durk’s “Glock Up”; and the hammering of Chief Keef’s “I Don’t Like”; but it is also a thousand guys who can’t rap boasting about the same shit over $50 beats while hustling for Instagram followers and YouTube views. Quality drill albums are nonexistent, and consistent drill mixtapes are rare as hen’s teeth; the ratio of filler to killer is notoriously poor. The mise-en-scène is remarkably consistent from video to video: guns; unimpressive cars; alleys, gangways, and iron gates; ugly weather; those hideous kitchen cabinets that seem to have been installed in every Chicago apartment, regardless of neighborhood. But cheapness and a lack of inspiration are part of the authenticity factor, because drill is immediate. It’s also on the outs, having never crossed over the way that the Savemoney scene made famous by Chance The Rapper and Vic Mensa has.
Nowadays, Chicago crime is defined by the street sets, mostly black or Latino, related by business and varying adherence to the mythology of the gang, prone to violent infighting and splintering. What makes this underworld special is that most of its artistic record is self-produced. These are the patch-sewn cardigans and calling cards of the old-school 1970s street gangs; the outsider literature of the Gangster Disciples’ manuals, more cultish than criminal; the hieroglyphic symbolism of the gang tags that cover Chicago’s alley-facing garage doors; meandering amateur movies in which people pretend to shoot each other with real guns; drill. Despite the early ambitions of the Vice Lords and the Latin Kings organizations, the street gangs have only ever been politically useful as bogeymen. By most estimates, there are around 100,000 street gang members in Chicago, divided into about 60 organizations that are in turn split into about 700 groups. Not every Chicago gang is a violent criminal enterprise, but the majority of murders in Chicago are gang-related, and most of them go unsolved.
There is nothing transgressive about our gangs. Chicago is a place where one can always map the relationship between the criminal and the city. It taught the world that the street criminal could be a charismatic figure and inspired a mythic bestiary of genre archetypes: the terse Mann-ian professional facing obsolescence; the mobster gunning for the throne of the city; the nihilist pimp who knows it’s all part of the game; the folk-hero bank-robber shot by lawmen in the back; the corrupt and colorful wheeler-dealer. But the street gangs can’t be understood on those terms. To an outsider, their public beefs can sound like the sectarian conflicts of a post-apocalyptic religion; witness the bloody feud between the Bang Bang Gang Terror Dome subset of the Black P. Stones and the New Money Killaward subset of the Gangster Disciples, which in 2015 caught the attention of a city otherwise desensitized to the idea of gangland murders.
Screenshot: Candyman
The ongoing social tragedy of murder in Chicago isn’t that there are so many (there are a lot, but it’s never ranked among the top American cities in that respect), but that they are so similar, the same m.o. repeated over and over again. It can reach the point where you almost trick yourself into thinking of the urban gangland as an organism or serial-killer hive mind. But it isn’t. The foibles of the street gangs are very human. And, though we don’t like do admit it, they are relatable.
The French novelist Jean-Patrick Manchette liked to call crime fiction “the great moral literature of our time,” a statement I sometimes find myself agreeing with. There is no more efficient way of putting a character in a moral and existential crisis than a crime, and it is a dark truth of every developed society that, regardless of circumstances, we are all capable of committing a heinous crime. The question of why some do while most don’t directly addresses an important piece of the human puzzle. But in this chapter of the ongoing story of sin in Chicago—the story as told in film, in music, in the media—crime has become a setting, a fact of the neighborhoods, not a question of personalities. No documentary about the day-to-day lives of street gangs (and there are a lot of them, made mostly for TV) has had the wider appeal of Steve James’ Hoop Dreams or The Interrupters—though, of course, none of them are as well made. This is a net positive.But let me posit something that may seem counterintuitive. It isn’t a plea for a return to romanticized crime, though I do think that the forbidden lure of the illegal and immoral can be subverted in powerful ways; it’s something many of the great crime narratives do. But I do think that the art that most cogently addresses crime—whether as a real-world social issue or as an existential state—is art about criminals, because it puts its audience in a compromised spot. There is something of a moral duty to resist the othering of crime. When we begin to think of gangs exclusively as a social phenomenon, instead of as people in groups, we dehumanize not just the gangs, but the people they exploit and victimize, a category that includes the gangs themselves.
One of the more often cited example of this is the 1992 horror film Candyman, which places a supernatural threat within the crime-infested projects. (If you have the time, I recommend watching our short video documentary on the film.) It’s set in Cabrini-Green, which was then the most notorious housing project in Chicago; it was also the home of one of the subjects of Hoop Dreams, the setting of the ’70s sitcom Good Times, and the subject of several documentaries of its own. Candyman is a film that raises some interesting ideas early on, but waffles on them. In the end, it falls back on that all-too-popular image of the urban gangland as a monster, a variant of what one might call the second curse of Chicago—the idea of the city itself as an abstract threat. But it’s always people. Cabrini-Green is gone now, long demolished. In Chicago, it was symbolic of controlled disenfranchisement: a 15,000-person enclave of poverty in an affluent area. The street that ran directly down the middle of the complex—well, you can probably already guess this one. It was Division.
Thanks to Ignatiy Vishnevetsky.
For a time in the 1850s, there were so many problems with drainage that it became a swamp and had to raise itself up on jackscrews. So really, a Chicagoan has their pick of origin stories. The curse of the so-called Second City is that it lends itself effortlessly to symbolism and especially to metaphor, to the point that you start to believe that it just might be one. I’ve lived here longer now than I have anywhere else, and I have come to love this aspect of the city. When Chicagoans speak—whether they are true locals or transplants like myself, who have come to its ways through prolonged exposure—they speak its complicated history. This is the diverse Southern-inflected sound of black Chicago, the “Chi-cah-go” and “Chi-caw-go” pronunciations that classify white accents, and that perfect formulation of terse Midwesternese, the stranded “with,” as in the classic “You wanna come with?” They say “jagoff” is a Pittsburgh word, but Chicago owns it.
Really, there are many Chicagos, bound almost psychically. It is better maybe to try to grasp it in terms of its architecture—which is really one of the most beautiful things about it—and planning. For instance, Chicago is the alley capital of the world. There are about 1,900 miles of alleyways running through almost every block of the city, regulated to a minimum width of 16 feet, some much wider. The alley is part of day-to-day life in Chicago: It’s where we take our shortcuts and bring our trash. It’s why Chicago doesn’t smell as bad as other big cities. It lacks that note of garbage that gives New York streets their character. The kind of buildings we call two- or three-flats, whether brick, frame, or Indiana limestone (called “greystone” locally), will often have a gangway, a passage that lets you cut from the sidewalk to the alley. My favorites are the ones that dip under a protruding oriel. And most of the apartments in those two- and three-flats will have two doors, one in the front and one in the rear. It’s a city of backstreets and backdoors.
Chicago crime is a unique phenomenon. In broad statistics, it is not that dangerous a place; the rates of burglary and theft are low for an American city, and many of its neighborhoods experience negligible violent crime. This is a common defense tactic for Chicagoans, especially white Chicagoans—the “well, not my Chicago” plea. But this is as much a fantasy as the Trumpian burning of the quote-unquote “inner city.” Chicago crime inspires fascination because it is entrenched and so specific, so troublingly connected to a diverse city that otherwise eludes broad social generalizations. One fact about Chicago is that it has more nicknames in common circulation than any other place in this country, all of them kind of tacky: the Windy City, the Second City, Chi-Town and its pun variations, the City Of Big Shoulders. There are many others, too. Defining the spirit of Chicago is a bad parlor game. The nice parts of it are very nice, but for more than 90 years, it has been world-famous as a place where people get gunned down in the street. Throughout its history runs a succession of criminal boom industries: gambling, policy, liquor, crack, heroin.
The criminal conglomerates of Prohibition and the small sets of the West Side’s Heroin Highway are part of one uninterrupted story, though unwittingly. The story is the city. It goes back to the 1870s and the reign of “Big Mike” McDonald as the king of Chicago’s gambling underworld. It goes through generations of increasingly more effective political machines and increasingly larger criminal syndicates, colluding in political and commercial networks that made the street gangs seem like the inevitable result of a complicated equation. Let us assume a few things here as starting points: that the city and its underworlds have existed for a long time in a relationship that is more complex than host and parasite; that political and criminal groups in the city, however big or small, play variations on a similar game involving the flow and direction of movement; and that the city is itself a crossroads, its entire story defined by lines of interstate transit, be it the Illinois Central Railroad that transported half a million black job-seekers from the South during the Great Migration, or the Sinaloa Cartel network from which most of the cocaine and heroin of its current drug economy is believed to originate.
For Chicago, there is no artistic or cultural history without its social history, no social history without its political history, and no political history without crime. The mob is a staple of our tourist kitsch industry: the Al Capone T-shirt and the Untouchables bus tour, right up there with Mike Ditka’s hairspray, the goddamn Blues Brothers, and that casserole we call a deep-dish pizza. But the mob was always corny, even at its scariest. For decades, it was almost everywhere. I’ll give you an example: The Russian bathhouse immortalized by Saul Bellow in Humboldt’s Gift was actually a mob hangout. It was still owned by an Outfit family in the years that I lived across from it on Division Street, one of the more darkly perfect street names in Chicago.
Michael Mann’s 1981 debut feature
, Thief (Special Director's Edition), is to my mind the best Chicago crime film set after Prohibition and one of the great artistic interpretations of the city’s nocturnal character. It was made in the last years that Chicago nights glowed bluish-green, before the city had completed the changeover from mercury vapor lighting to the sodium vapor lamps that produce its present honey-bronze haze. Much as alleyways have both a practical and a mystical relationship to the city’s networks of crime, so it is possible to chart eras of criminality through the history of its public lighting. Crime is a largely nocturnal activity, after all, as are most of the vices on which the city’s criminal syndicates were built. In the Prohibition and Great Depression golden age of Chicago crime, most of the streets were still gas-lit and very dim. This was the fabled era of the Tommy Gun mobsters, but also of the bank-robbing outlaw, embodied by the Chicago-based Dillinger Gang, the subject of Mann’s underappreciated crime epic Public Enemies. Mercury vapor arrived in the mid-1950s, along with Richard J. Daley’s Democratic political machine and the solidification of the Chicago Outfit, the white mob, which in those years finally murdered and intimidated its way into the territory of the city’s forgotten black crime syndicates. The most recognizable type of streetlight in Chicago was introduced in this era. It’s a bucket-shaped design unique to the city, called the General Electric Crimefighter.Thief is not a film about the Outfit, but it features an Outfit operative as a character, played by the avuncular stage veteran Robert Prosky. You have probably seen a picture of Al Capone. Chances are it’s the glamour shot with his head turned and the cigar stuffed in his cheek and the size 6 7/8 cream-white Borsalino on his little head. This is the most flattering picture of Capone. As a young man, he had the pudgy face and baggy eyes of a fortysomething bank manager. He was 26 when he inherited Johnny Torrio’s criminal empire and was out of power by the age of 33. But in movies and TV, he is always played by older actors, trimmer or more barrel-chested, always tougher-looking than the real man: Rod Steiger in Al Capone; Neville Brand, Robert De Niro, and William Forsythe in successive versions of The Untouchables; Jason Robards in The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre; Stephen Graham on Boardwalk Empire. But there were never any handsome gangsters. They were all funny-looking, and with the exception of the flashy Capone years, they dressed like shit.
The Outfit was the successor to Capone’s organization, and in that era of mercury vapor lighting, when the tint of the night suggested an extended twilight, their look was Sansabelt, grandpa glasses, and starched short sleeves. Mann grew up in the long-gone Jewish quarter of the Humboldt Park neighborhood, as did Saul Bellow a generation earlier, and he is one of the few to try to capture this banal, used-car-salesman aspect of the Chicago mob. To me, he is one of the geniuses of the genre; in all of his crime films, there is a complex dialogue between authenticity and archetype. His favorite type of verisimilitude is the kind that directly contradicts expectations. In Thief, for instance, the safe-cracker played by James Caan—the first of the single-minded professionals that would become Mann’s contribution to the mythology of the crime genre—doesn’t press the resonator of a stethoscope against a door and listen to the tumblers; he uses an industrial oxygen lance, lent to Mann by an actual Chicago-area burglar. And while Prosky’s role might seem like a case of casting against type, if you look at pictures of Outfit bosses from the time, that’s what they all looked like.But here’s the thing: The imagery Mann subverts with this more realistic portrayal—and uses to formulate his own mythology—is also Chicagoan in origin. It was Chicago that birthed both the gangster picture and the notion of street criminal chic, and it really took until The Godfather for there to be a major American film that took its cues from the clannish organized crime culture of the East Coast. Even the great New York gangster movies that came before The Godfather, like Raoul Walsh’s The Roaring Twenties and Budd Boetticher’s The Rise And Fall Of Legs Diamond, are based on an archetype born of the Second City. Most film historians will tell you that there are two definitive early gangster films: Underworld, directed in 1927 by Josef Von Sternberg, and Howard Hawks’ insurmountable 1932 Scarface. Both are set in Chicago, as were almost all early American gangster movies—Little Caesar, The Public Enemy, the whole lot. The gritty city stuck in the imagination of ’30s Hollywood much in the same way as Paris and Vienna did, less a real-world setting than a genre in and of itself. Films about criminal gangs go back to the early 1900s, but they depict their bad guys mostly as ragged, unshaven goons in flat caps. The seductive criminals of the silent era are swindlers and masterminds. The idea that coarse, murderous thugs could be flamboyant, magnetic, and sexy—that comes from the Chicago of Al Capone and John Dillinger.
Both Underworld and Scarface were based on stories by Ben Hecht, though the latter was nominally adapted from a forgotten pulp novel of the time. Before he became one of the greatest screenwriters in the history of Hollywood, Hecht was a Chicago Daily News crime reporter, an experience he would draw on many times—most famously in The Front Page, one of several collaborations with his crime-desk colleague Charles MacArthur, subsequently reworked as His Girl Friday. Hecht was one of a number of literary men who worked in the Chicago dailies of the 1920s (the poet Carl Sandburg was also at the Chicago Daily News at the time), and the best of a tradition of newspapermen who treated the job of columnist as though it made them prose-poet laureate of Chicago. A reader of modernist and symbolist literature, he was also involved in the Little Review, the Chicago literary magazine famous as the first publisher of James Joyce’s Ulysses, which was originally serialized over several years in its pages. In Underworld, released at a time when Joyce’s landmark novel was still banned as obscene in the United States, there is a villainous Irish gangster named Buck Mulligan, after the central character of the first chapter of Ulysses—a fact that I’ve always found amusing.
The classic, Hecht-ian gangster drew on the public’s morbid fascination with Chicago crime to create something almost modernist—this wanton criminal as an epic figure in an expressively metaphorical cityscape. This is true of Scarface, a masterpiece that was the work of a number of remarkable talents, not just Hawks and Hecht. One of the many memorable things about Scarface is the use of signage as commentary and ironic counterpoint: the famous “The World Is Yours” travel ad (carried over in Brian De Palma’s loose 1983 remake); the body lying under the crossed shadow of a signboard that reads “Undertakers”; the lit-up marquee of the club called “Paradise No. 2.” The Godfather would refashion the gangster as a creature of family and loyalty, but in his original conception, he was a creature of the city. Scarface’s Capone-inspired title character doesn’t rise to power in the middle of nowhere, but in a darkly comic metropolis that seems to empower and mock him in equal measure. In other words, he rises to power in Chicago.
It should be pointed out that almost all Chicago-set Hollywood films produced from the late 1920s to the 1970s are about mobsters, crime, or corruption. We’re talking Nicholas Ray’s Party Girl, assorted half-remembered noirs, various versions of the Roxie Hart story (including one written by Ben Hecht), the premise of Some Like It Hot. Of these, only Arthur Penn’s Mickey One, the film that first attempted to apply a French New Wave sensibility to home-grown pulp, did any substantial filming here, capturing both its decrepit alleys and its modernist architecture in stark black-and-white. It was only in the 1980s that the city became a popular filming location. Perhaps Thief seems definitive because it represents a point of merger—between the mythology of the city and its reality, which already seems fairly stylized.
The great musical legacy of Chicago is the modernization and urbanization of the blues, a rural sound that was electrified by the city and laid the groundwork for most popular music that has come since. One important but underappreciated figure in its development was Kokomo Arnold, who played a rapid bottleneck-slide-guitar blues in a style that still sounds rock ’n’ roll. It is said that he came to Chicago as a bootlegger in the 1920s, but was forced to rely on his musical talents for a living after the end of Prohibition, trading one business of handling bottles for another. However, when it comes to stories about bluesmen, one can never be sure. Arnold’s recording of “Old Original Kokomo Blues” was reworked by the Delta bluesman Robert Johnson into “Sweet Home Chicago,” now the de facto anthem of the city. “Sweet Home Chicago” isn’t actually about Chicago. It uses the name of the city figuratively. It has to be the most singable place name in American English: Chi-ca-go, those three syllables, each ending in a different vowel sound. It lends itself to varied interpretation.
More so than any place in America and perhaps even the world, Chicago was founded on the idea of a city; before it had developed a cultural life of its own, it was a word, a notion, and a destination, ballooning over the second half of the 19th century from a smallish midland settlement into what was then the fifth largest city in the world. It is a place that inspires ideals—from the Wobblies to the aesthetic of Afrofuturism, the Hull House to the tradition of philosophizing architects embodied by Louis Sullivan, Daniel Burnham, and Frank Lloyd Wright. But how much of Chicago’s idealistic streak is a reaction to its cynical pragmatism? For as long as it has deserved to be called a city, Chicago has had problems with disenfranchisement, corruption, and crime—problems that seem like they were almost designed into the city. I’ll point out here that in his Whitman-esque poem “Chicago,” which is the source of the nickname “the City Of Big Shoulders,” Carl Sandburg also writes: “Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.” And this is the definitive celebration of the city.
It was Nelson Algren who mastered the art of making Chicago’s seediness sound like an exotic quality. He is best known for his novel The Man With The Golden Arm, which is set on that same mythologized stretch of Division Street that was home to Saul Bellow’s Russian bathhouse. Here, I’ll point out that Otto Preminger’s well-known 1955 film adaptation, starring Frank Sinatra as a heroin-addicted jazz drummer, was co-written by an uncredited Hecht, because everything somehow intersects in the novel of Chicago. It opens with a prowling long take down an evocative soundstage street that bears only a faint resemblance to the real city. It’s a Chicago of the imagination, but so are most. In his essay “Chicago: City On The Make,” published two years after The Man With The Golden Arm, Algren gave the city one of its most famous panegyrics: “Like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never a lovely so real.” Like so many Chicago transplants who came here in the mid-2000s to lead a quasi-bohemian existence, I have this passage memorized. But it did not occur to me until many years later to ask who broke the woman’s nose.
Iceberg Slim on the cover of his 1976 spoken-word album, Reflections.
The fact is that, while the crime and corruption provide links between Chicago’s countless neighborhoods, their effects have always been graded by skin color. I know of no black writer of the same periods who wrote of Chicago crime as a sign of its resilient spirit, as Sandburg did, or as an Algren-esque existential quality, the proof of its hustle—not even Iceberg Slim, who was second only to Ben Hecht in developing and popularizing the mythology of the street criminal. Slim—who was born Robert Maupin, but took Robert Beck as his legal name in middle age—had been a dapper pimp in the black underworld of Chicago and the upper Midwest in the 1940s and 1950s, until a breakdown in the Cook County Jail led him to retire. He had been known as Cavanaugh Slim. It was while working as an exterminator in Los Angeles that he wrote his autobiographical novel Pimp: The Story Of My Life, a bestseller that would come to define the voice of gritty urban pulp. Along with his subsequent crime novels and the follow-up memoir The Naked Soul Of Iceberg Slim: Robert Beck’s Real Story, it would exert a profound aesthetic and thematic influence on gangsta rap, blaxploitation films and black variations on noir (Bill Duke’s Deep Cover, for example), and the prose of a vast array of fiction writers, most notably Donald Goines and Irvine Welsh.
Slim was a complicated figure. Like Chester Himes, the godfather of black noir, and Ed Jones, the most powerful black kingpin of Slim’s early years in Chicago, he had a go at a respectable college education before lapsing into crime—though, admittedly, he already had a lengthy rap sheet by the time he arrived at Tuskegee, where he was a student around the same time as Ralph Ellison. As a prose writer, he was ecstatic and contradictory, the king of mixed metaphors, capable of lucidly deconstructing the misogyny and self-loathing of his criminal past one moment and juicing readers with lurid sexual exploits the next. Like Hecht, he sculpted the seductive aspect of Chicago crime—but in place of the classic gangster film’s anti-social pizzazz, what he presented was a cool, toughened nihilism. Perhaps Slim came to believe his own legend. After he found recognition as a writer, he adopted the public image of a wocka-wocka mid-1970s pimp, though his own heyday had been in the days of boogie-woogie and parted hair.
Indulge me now and take a moment to listen to “County Jail Blues,” a 1941 B-side by the Chicago blues pianist Big Maceo Merriweather. It’s an ageless song, and, in my opinion, one of the great overlooked blues recordings of the 1940s. The guitarist is Tampa Red, who played a gold-plated steel-body guitar that sounds remarkably like an electric. In its ideal form, blues is not glamorous music.
The cultural legacy of Chicago crime is really two stories, but they are intertwined. The first is a story of myths, plucked from the streets and alleys of the city and fermented in the popular imagination. The second is a complex narrative of devil’s bargains between art, business, political machinery, and crime. It stretches from the brothels of the early 20th century to the super-sized media conglomerates of the present day. Let me relate one small part of it.
The first black millionaires in America were probably policy kings, most likely in that densely populated area of the South Side that was then known as the Black Belt. Policy was an illegal lottery in which winning numbers were drawn from policy wheels (often rigged), which in Chicago bore such names as the Airplane, the Kentucky Derby, and the Prince Albert. It was a huge enterprise, with each wheel having its own drops, runners, and policy writers—not to mention a whole sub-industry of numerologists and hucksters who called themselves “policy professors” and hawked dream-based winning formulae in the ad pages of the Chicago Defender. If you want to try to get a sense of the spirit of the time, take a listen to “Four Eleven Forty-Four,” by Papa Charlie Jackson, the sardonic, banjo-playing chronicler of life in Chicago’s black neighborhoods in the 1920s and the first commercially successful self-accompanied blues musician; the title is the prototypical number combination, or gig, and a byword for policy itself.
The great policy kings are mostly forgotten now: Policy Sam, Mushmouth Johnson, Teenan Jones, Ed Jones (no relation) and his brothers, Dan Jackson, Teddy Roe. But their influence on the economic and political life of the city can’t be overstated. For the first half of the 20th century, the white powers that be considered them essential to the black vote in Chicago. When it comes to this city’s history, one should probably always think cynically and feudally: a community where the largest local employer, voter registration effort, charity, and source of capital is a single criminal racket is a corrupt administrator’s dream. Political machines gave policy kings leeway to keep them in power. During their reign, the center of black nightlife in Chicago was a section of the Bronzeville neighborhood known as “The Stroll.” How perfect is that, in a city where control is synonymous with directing movement?
The 1920s and ’30s were Chicago’s heyday as a center of jazz talent and innovation. One of the most important clubs of this era was the Grand Terrace, known in its early years as the Sunset Cafe. The building—originally a garage, and until recently a hardware store—still stands on 35th Street. This was where Louis Armstrong became a star with a teenage Cab Calloway as his master of ceremonies, where Nat King Cole got his first break, and where the trailblazing pianist and bandleader Earl “Fatha” Hines had his 12-year residency, playing a piano bought for him by Al Capone. In the ’30s, the Grand Terrace had its own national radio show, broadcast live every night. Policy kings owned many popular clubs on The Stroll, including Palm Tavern (owned by Genial Jim Knight) and the Elite No. 2 (owned by Teenan Jones), which I’m almost certain inspired the similarly comical name of Scarface’s Paradise No. 2. But the most lucrative and glamorous spots were integrated black-and-tan clubs like the Grand Terrace and the Plantation, which was located across the street. Both were controlled by the Capone organization through Jewish associates.
Unlike the Outfit that succeeded him, Capone made a point of leaving the black syndicates alone. There were many reasons for this, including the fact that the mob and the policy kings were both colluding with the Republican political machine headed by Mayor William H. Thompson, a flagrantly corrupt figure who believed that the one true enemy of America was the British crown. But the one that matters here is the mob’s intended audience. The Grand Terrace attracted many wealthy black customers, from bona fide celebrities to local crime lords (Icerberg Slim’s mentor, “Baby” Bell, spent there lavishly), but it was designed to draw in white money. Anyone who wanted to make a career in Chicago had to play the mob’s segregated circuit. The white jazzmen (including such talents-in-training as Gene Krupa and Benny Goodman) mostly played whites-only venues, while the black jazzmen played black-and-tan clubs, where white musicians could sit and play if they wanted. The privilege did not go the other way around.
Thus, the mob invisibly controlled the direction of musical influence, as it did so many other things that may seem intangible. Its monopoly on early Chicago jazz had many consequences, one of which was an eventual exodus of talent, beginning with the great cornetist King Oliver, who led the band at the Plantation Café. Oliver was a true tragic figure; he gradually lost his teeth and the ability to play to severe gum disease, ended up working as a janitor in a pool hall, and died broke in a rooming house. In the mythology of jazz, his downfall into obscurity and fatal poverty is all the result of his refusal to take a lowball offer for a regular gig at the Cotton Club, which instead catapulted Duke Ellington to stardom. This is the thing to remember: Much of the formative 1930s period of jazz, a music with deep black roots, happened on terms set by white criminals. After the black-and-tan clubs went out of fashion toward the end of the 1930s, the Chicago mob got into coin-operated jukeboxes. Thankfully, they never developed an interest in blues.
Regardless of age or gender, Chicago will turn you into an old man giving directions. Every story reminds of another story, and a story of something that used to be there—because it’s really all one story. After the Outfit took control of policy and bolita, a similar numbers game popular in the city’s Latino neighborhoods, they became absorbed into the gambling and vice empire of the Rush Street crew, whose day-to-day manager went daily to Saul Bellow’s beloved Russian bathhouse on Division Street. The Grand Terrace, having finally gone out of business, became the headquarters of the Democratic congressman William L. Dawson. He was the black sub-boss of Chicago’s political machine, and, in theory, the most powerful black politician of the 1950s. He didn’t redecorate the Grand Terrace. It still had its big neon sign (with a smaller sign with his name added) and its Jazz Age murals and private upstairs clubrooms. The last regular bandleader at the Grand Terrace had been the jazz iconoclast Sun Ra, who was then just developing his sci-fi aesthetic in Chicago.
Dawson’s position within the political machine was a feudal lordship; it was dependent on his ability to bring out black voters en masse. The political machine, in turn, depended on segregation and on interchanges with the underworld. The link between the Outfit’s earlier inroads on The Stroll and the Democratic political machine’s command of the post-war black voting block was made literal and blatant by the continued use of the Grand Terrace. There, Dawson’s landlord was Joe Glaser, the manager of Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday and a longtime Outfit man. Glaser, who had an early history of walking away from sexual-assault charges, had been a boxing promoter who specialized in fixing fights for the mob and then a manager of black-and-tan clubs. After the repeal of Prohibition destroyed the Outfit’s stranglehold over Chicago liquor, he would rob delivery trucks to stock the bar of the Grand Terrace.
The management company Glaser created—and willed to the Outfit lawyer and power broker Sidney Korshak, unbeknownst to Armstrong—was funded by a loan from Jules Stein, an ophthalmologist, former bar mitzvah musician, and jazz booker for the Chicago mob circuit. Stein’s booking company was MCA, which started with speakeasies and black-and-tan clubs and became the largest talent agency in the world by the end of 1930s, all while being effectively controlled by the Capone organization. It acquired Universal Pictures, and expanded beyond talent management into film, television, music, and publishing. It kept its ties to the Outfit and carried over the city’s culture of patronage to Hollywood, where it encouraged the political ambitions of its client Ronald Reagan. At the start of this century, it merged with Vivendi to create NBCUniversal and Universal Music Group. This is the story of the Outfit controlling who worked in one building in Chicago. It’s a big city. There are many buildings.
If you are ever in Chicago, consider taking a drive through the city at night. Let the car rattle on the badly pockmarked streets. Your eyes will adjust to the amber sear of the General Electric Crimefighters and to that other feature of Chicago nighttimes, the blue flash of a police camera box. There are thousands mounted around the city. Turn down an alley and think of the fact that even in the earliest plat of Chicago, dating to the 1830s, there were plans for alleyways. Park the car, get out, and study how the dimensions and alignment of the streets and sidewalks affect your movements. Don’t think of crime as troglofauna, pale and eyeless, evolving in the dank corners of the city. In Chicago, crime moves, often along currents defined by earlier forms of crime. It’s structural.
Given that they have brought Chicago its most sensationalized coverage since the days of Al Capone, it seems interesting that there have been no real fiction films about the street gangs. Spike Lee’s Chi-Raq doesn’t count. Its portrayal of Chicago’s gangland is pure fantasy, influenced by the mythology of gangsta rap—which is to say, indirectly indebted to Iceberg Slim. Even in fiction, the city can’t escape the myths it inspires. You could say that about drill, our distinctive midtempo flavor of nihilistic trap rap. Drill tends to be oversimplified as the authentic sound of modern Chicago crime, which is how it sells itself, existing as it does in a complicated relationship with the histories and ongoing conflicts of Chicago’s drug gangs, grouped in the increasingly meaningless six-pointed-star Folk and five-pointed-star People alliances.
Really, drill is internet music. It owes its local significance, popularity, and very existence to limitless digital space and social media. Drill is the dizzying, exhaustive braggadocio of Montana Of 300’s “Holy Ghost”; the squishy nausea of Lil Durk’s “Glock Up”; and the hammering of Chief Keef’s “I Don’t Like”; but it is also a thousand guys who can’t rap boasting about the same shit over $50 beats while hustling for Instagram followers and YouTube views. Quality drill albums are nonexistent, and consistent drill mixtapes are rare as hen’s teeth; the ratio of filler to killer is notoriously poor. The mise-en-scène is remarkably consistent from video to video: guns; unimpressive cars; alleys, gangways, and iron gates; ugly weather; those hideous kitchen cabinets that seem to have been installed in every Chicago apartment, regardless of neighborhood. But cheapness and a lack of inspiration are part of the authenticity factor, because drill is immediate. It’s also on the outs, having never crossed over the way that the Savemoney scene made famous by Chance The Rapper and Vic Mensa has.
Nowadays, Chicago crime is defined by the street sets, mostly black or Latino, related by business and varying adherence to the mythology of the gang, prone to violent infighting and splintering. What makes this underworld special is that most of its artistic record is self-produced. These are the patch-sewn cardigans and calling cards of the old-school 1970s street gangs; the outsider literature of the Gangster Disciples’ manuals, more cultish than criminal; the hieroglyphic symbolism of the gang tags that cover Chicago’s alley-facing garage doors; meandering amateur movies in which people pretend to shoot each other with real guns; drill. Despite the early ambitions of the Vice Lords and the Latin Kings organizations, the street gangs have only ever been politically useful as bogeymen. By most estimates, there are around 100,000 street gang members in Chicago, divided into about 60 organizations that are in turn split into about 700 groups. Not every Chicago gang is a violent criminal enterprise, but the majority of murders in Chicago are gang-related, and most of them go unsolved.
There is nothing transgressive about our gangs. Chicago is a place where one can always map the relationship between the criminal and the city. It taught the world that the street criminal could be a charismatic figure and inspired a mythic bestiary of genre archetypes: the terse Mann-ian professional facing obsolescence; the mobster gunning for the throne of the city; the nihilist pimp who knows it’s all part of the game; the folk-hero bank-robber shot by lawmen in the back; the corrupt and colorful wheeler-dealer. But the street gangs can’t be understood on those terms. To an outsider, their public beefs can sound like the sectarian conflicts of a post-apocalyptic religion; witness the bloody feud between the Bang Bang Gang Terror Dome subset of the Black P. Stones and the New Money Killaward subset of the Gangster Disciples, which in 2015 caught the attention of a city otherwise desensitized to the idea of gangland murders.
Screenshot: Candyman
The ongoing social tragedy of murder in Chicago isn’t that there are so many (there are a lot, but it’s never ranked among the top American cities in that respect), but that they are so similar, the same m.o. repeated over and over again. It can reach the point where you almost trick yourself into thinking of the urban gangland as an organism or serial-killer hive mind. But it isn’t. The foibles of the street gangs are very human. And, though we don’t like do admit it, they are relatable.
The French novelist Jean-Patrick Manchette liked to call crime fiction “the great moral literature of our time,” a statement I sometimes find myself agreeing with. There is no more efficient way of putting a character in a moral and existential crisis than a crime, and it is a dark truth of every developed society that, regardless of circumstances, we are all capable of committing a heinous crime. The question of why some do while most don’t directly addresses an important piece of the human puzzle. But in this chapter of the ongoing story of sin in Chicago—the story as told in film, in music, in the media—crime has become a setting, a fact of the neighborhoods, not a question of personalities. No documentary about the day-to-day lives of street gangs (and there are a lot of them, made mostly for TV) has had the wider appeal of Steve James’ Hoop Dreams or The Interrupters—though, of course, none of them are as well made. This is a net positive.But let me posit something that may seem counterintuitive. It isn’t a plea for a return to romanticized crime, though I do think that the forbidden lure of the illegal and immoral can be subverted in powerful ways; it’s something many of the great crime narratives do. But I do think that the art that most cogently addresses crime—whether as a real-world social issue or as an existential state—is art about criminals, because it puts its audience in a compromised spot. There is something of a moral duty to resist the othering of crime. When we begin to think of gangs exclusively as a social phenomenon, instead of as people in groups, we dehumanize not just the gangs, but the people they exploit and victimize, a category that includes the gangs themselves.
One of the more often cited example of this is the 1992 horror film Candyman, which places a supernatural threat within the crime-infested projects. (If you have the time, I recommend watching our short video documentary on the film.) It’s set in Cabrini-Green, which was then the most notorious housing project in Chicago; it was also the home of one of the subjects of Hoop Dreams, the setting of the ’70s sitcom Good Times, and the subject of several documentaries of its own. Candyman is a film that raises some interesting ideas early on, but waffles on them. In the end, it falls back on that all-too-popular image of the urban gangland as a monster, a variant of what one might call the second curse of Chicago—the idea of the city itself as an abstract threat. But it’s always people. Cabrini-Green is gone now, long demolished. In Chicago, it was symbolic of controlled disenfranchisement: a 15,000-person enclave of poverty in an affluent area. The street that ran directly down the middle of the complex—well, you can probably already guess this one. It was Division.
Thanks to Ignatiy Vishnevetsky.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Free #Mafia3 Demo Now Available from @MafiaGame
2K and Hangar 13 announced that a free playable demo of Mafia III
, the thrilling organized crime drama set in the immersive open world of 1968 New Bordeaux, is now available for PlayStation®4 computer entertainment system, Xbox One, and Windows PC via Steam. Players can experience the entire first act of Mafia III, featuring an exhilarating bank heist gone wrong that sets the stage for betrayal and Lincoln Clay’s revenge against the Italian mob in New Bordeaux, a re-imagined 1960s New Orleans. Players who wish to continue their experience can transfer over their progress when they purchase the full game*.
Faster, Baby!, the first paid DLC for Mafia III, is also now available. Faster, Baby! introduces new narrative and more to explore, set alongside the events in Lincoln Clay’s story of revenge in Mafia III. New Bordeaux expands with the addition of Sinclair Parish, a town west of the Bayou where Lincoln teams up with a new character, Roxy Laveau, to take down the corrupt and powerful Sheriff “Slim” Beaumont. New driving and combat mechanics add to Lincoln’s repertoire as he fights for control of Sinclair Parish, with new weapons for his arsenal and vehicles for his fleet.
Faster, Baby! is the first of three DLC offerings available individually, or collectively as part of the Mafia III Season Pass** at a discount price. The upcoming Stones Unturned and Sign of the Times DLC launch this summer, and introduce new content, characters, gameplay, and narrative set alongside the main story in Mafia III. The Mafia III Season Pass is available now for PS4™ system, Xbox One, and Windows PC.
Mafia III is a thrilling organized crime drama featuring a critically acclaimed story that won the Herman Melville Award for Best Writing from the New York Videogame Critics Circle, was awarded Best Overall Storytelling from GameSpot, and has earned a nomination for Narrative from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA). Mafia III follows the story of Lincoln Clay, a disenfranchised Vietnam veteran waging a revenge-fueled war against the Italian mafia after his family is betrayed and slaughtered by mob boss Sal Marcano. Set in the immersive city of 1968 New Bordeaux, a reimagined version of New Orleans bustling with activity and complete with era-inspired cars, fashion, and an eclectic mix of music, including more than 100 licensed tracks from one of the most memorable eras in history.
Mafia III is now available for PS4™ system, Xbox One, and Windows PC. Mafia III is rated M for Mature by the ESRB.
, the thrilling organized crime drama set in the immersive open world of 1968 New Bordeaux, is now available for PlayStation®4 computer entertainment system, Xbox One, and Windows PC via Steam. Players can experience the entire first act of Mafia III, featuring an exhilarating bank heist gone wrong that sets the stage for betrayal and Lincoln Clay’s revenge against the Italian mob in New Bordeaux, a re-imagined 1960s New Orleans. Players who wish to continue their experience can transfer over their progress when they purchase the full game*.Faster, Baby!, the first paid DLC for Mafia III, is also now available. Faster, Baby! introduces new narrative and more to explore, set alongside the events in Lincoln Clay’s story of revenge in Mafia III. New Bordeaux expands with the addition of Sinclair Parish, a town west of the Bayou where Lincoln teams up with a new character, Roxy Laveau, to take down the corrupt and powerful Sheriff “Slim” Beaumont. New driving and combat mechanics add to Lincoln’s repertoire as he fights for control of Sinclair Parish, with new weapons for his arsenal and vehicles for his fleet.
Faster, Baby! is the first of three DLC offerings available individually, or collectively as part of the Mafia III Season Pass** at a discount price. The upcoming Stones Unturned and Sign of the Times DLC launch this summer, and introduce new content, characters, gameplay, and narrative set alongside the main story in Mafia III. The Mafia III Season Pass is available now for PS4™ system, Xbox One, and Windows PC.
Mafia III is a thrilling organized crime drama featuring a critically acclaimed story that won the Herman Melville Award for Best Writing from the New York Videogame Critics Circle, was awarded Best Overall Storytelling from GameSpot, and has earned a nomination for Narrative from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA). Mafia III follows the story of Lincoln Clay, a disenfranchised Vietnam veteran waging a revenge-fueled war against the Italian mafia after his family is betrayed and slaughtered by mob boss Sal Marcano. Set in the immersive city of 1968 New Bordeaux, a reimagined version of New Orleans bustling with activity and complete with era-inspired cars, fashion, and an eclectic mix of music, including more than 100 licensed tracks from one of the most memorable eras in history.
Mafia III is now available for PS4™ system, Xbox One, and Windows PC. Mafia III is rated M for Mature by the ESRB.
Former Assistant District Attorney Charged With Illegally Wiretapping Cellular Telephones #AbuseofPower
A two-count indictment was unsealed in the United States District Court for the Eastern District of New York charging Tara Lenich, a former supervisory Assistant District Attorney with the Kings County District Attorney’s Office (KCDA), with illegally intercepting oral and electronic communications occurring over two cellular telephones.
The charges were announced by Bridget M. Rohde, Acting United States Attorney for the Eastern District of New York, and William F. Sweeney, Jr., Assistant Director-in-Charge, Federal Bureau of Investigation, New York Field Office (FBI).
As alleged in the indictment, for nearly 16 months between approximately June 2015 and November 2016, Lenich created fraudulent judicial orders as part of her illegal wiretapping scheme. Specifically, she forged the signatures of multiple New York State judges onto the illicitly created judicial orders -- orders that purportedly authorized the KCDA to intercept communications occurring over two cellular telephones. Lenich then misappropriated KCDA equipment to intercept, monitor, and record the communications to and from the two cellular telephones. In furtherance of her scheme, Lenich also created fraudulent search warrants, which she then used to unlawfully obtain text messages relating to the two cellular telephones.
“Tara Lenich violated her duty to the public when she engaged in a long-running scheme to forge judicial documents in order to illegally wiretap telephones,” stated Acting United States Attorney Rohde. “Lenich’s prosecution reflects the Office’s commitment to protecting the public from the misuse of law enforcement tools, particularly by those entrusted to use those tools in accordance with the laws they have sworn to uphold.” In announcing the indictment, Ms. Rohde thanked the Kings County District Attorney’s Office for their cooperation.
“In this case, as alleged, Lenich's illegal wiretapping scheme demonstrates an abuse of power that won't be tolerated within our criminal justice system. Unfortunately, sometimes those close to the law stray far from the truth. As demonstrated today, however, everyone is expected to play by the rules; for this we'll make no exceptions,” stated Assistant Director-in-Charge Sweeney.
The charges were announced by Bridget M. Rohde, Acting United States Attorney for the Eastern District of New York, and William F. Sweeney, Jr., Assistant Director-in-Charge, Federal Bureau of Investigation, New York Field Office (FBI).
As alleged in the indictment, for nearly 16 months between approximately June 2015 and November 2016, Lenich created fraudulent judicial orders as part of her illegal wiretapping scheme. Specifically, she forged the signatures of multiple New York State judges onto the illicitly created judicial orders -- orders that purportedly authorized the KCDA to intercept communications occurring over two cellular telephones. Lenich then misappropriated KCDA equipment to intercept, monitor, and record the communications to and from the two cellular telephones. In furtherance of her scheme, Lenich also created fraudulent search warrants, which she then used to unlawfully obtain text messages relating to the two cellular telephones.
“Tara Lenich violated her duty to the public when she engaged in a long-running scheme to forge judicial documents in order to illegally wiretap telephones,” stated Acting United States Attorney Rohde. “Lenich’s prosecution reflects the Office’s commitment to protecting the public from the misuse of law enforcement tools, particularly by those entrusted to use those tools in accordance with the laws they have sworn to uphold.” In announcing the indictment, Ms. Rohde thanked the Kings County District Attorney’s Office for their cooperation.
“In this case, as alleged, Lenich's illegal wiretapping scheme demonstrates an abuse of power that won't be tolerated within our criminal justice system. Unfortunately, sometimes those close to the law stray far from the truth. As demonstrated today, however, everyone is expected to play by the rules; for this we'll make no exceptions,” stated Assistant Director-in-Charge Sweeney.
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
#IncognitoBandit Arrested
A man dubbed the “Incognito Bandit” was arrested at Dulles International Airport in Virginia as he attempted to board an outbound flight to South Africa and charged with armed bank robbery.
Albert Taderera, 36, of Brighton, was charged by criminal complaint with the Oct. 7, 2016, robbery of a branch of the TD Bank in Wayland, Mass.
According to court documents, between February 2015 and March 2017, 16 banks were robbed in the Metro-West and Greater Boston areas. In most of the robberies, the robber was disguised in a dark hooded sweatshirt, dark face mask/sunglasses covering his face, dark gloves and dark clothing. In each of the banks, the robber entered the bank and made verbal demands for the banks’ money. In most of the robberies, the robber displayed what tellers described as a black semi-automatic handgun.
All of the robberies occurred in suburban settings where banks were freestanding and featured adjacent wooded areas or foliage. In many of these robberies, witnesses observed the robber leaving the bank following the robbery, and entering the wooded areas. Witnesses also observed the robber run toward, enter into, and then leave the area in a black BMW sedan. Based on these similarities, the FBI believed that the individual driving the black BMW was responsible for the robberies.
On March 16, 2017, the Concord Police observed a black BMW sedan sitting outside a local bank. They also noted that Taderera fit the general description of the individual responsible for the 16 robberies. Police determined that the registration of the BMW was revoked and per Department policy, the vehicle was towed and inventoried.
On Wednesday, March 22, 2017, an individual identifying himself as Taderera, called the tow company and inquired about the status of his BMW. The tow company informed Taderera that the vehicle was in police custody.
On Thursday March 23, 2017, at approximately 10:15 pm, the FBI learned that Taderera had booked a flight, scheduled to leave on Friday, March 24, 2017, at 11:00 a.m., from Dulles International Airport to Addis Ababe, Ethiopia. During the morning of Friday, March 24, 2017, Taderera was en route to Dulles having taken a flight out of Boston. It was later learned that Taderera had rebooked his flight and was now planning to leave on March 24, 2017, at 5:45 p.m. from Dulles to Johannesburg, South Africa. Taderera was arrested prior to boarding the flight.
Albert Taderera, 36, of Brighton, was charged by criminal complaint with the Oct. 7, 2016, robbery of a branch of the TD Bank in Wayland, Mass.
According to court documents, between February 2015 and March 2017, 16 banks were robbed in the Metro-West and Greater Boston areas. In most of the robberies, the robber was disguised in a dark hooded sweatshirt, dark face mask/sunglasses covering his face, dark gloves and dark clothing. In each of the banks, the robber entered the bank and made verbal demands for the banks’ money. In most of the robberies, the robber displayed what tellers described as a black semi-automatic handgun.
All of the robberies occurred in suburban settings where banks were freestanding and featured adjacent wooded areas or foliage. In many of these robberies, witnesses observed the robber leaving the bank following the robbery, and entering the wooded areas. Witnesses also observed the robber run toward, enter into, and then leave the area in a black BMW sedan. Based on these similarities, the FBI believed that the individual driving the black BMW was responsible for the robberies.
On March 16, 2017, the Concord Police observed a black BMW sedan sitting outside a local bank. They also noted that Taderera fit the general description of the individual responsible for the 16 robberies. Police determined that the registration of the BMW was revoked and per Department policy, the vehicle was towed and inventoried.
On Wednesday, March 22, 2017, an individual identifying himself as Taderera, called the tow company and inquired about the status of his BMW. The tow company informed Taderera that the vehicle was in police custody.
On Thursday March 23, 2017, at approximately 10:15 pm, the FBI learned that Taderera had booked a flight, scheduled to leave on Friday, March 24, 2017, at 11:00 a.m., from Dulles International Airport to Addis Ababe, Ethiopia. During the morning of Friday, March 24, 2017, Taderera was en route to Dulles having taken a flight out of Boston. It was later learned that Taderera had rebooked his flight and was now planning to leave on March 24, 2017, at 5:45 p.m. from Dulles to Johannesburg, South Africa. Taderera was arrested prior to boarding the flight.
Only Yesterday: An Informal History of the 1920s
Hailed by the Washington Post as “the one account of America in the 1920s against which all others must be measured
,” Frederick Lewis Allen’s extraordinary social history takes readers back to a time of flappers and speakeasies, the first radio, unparalleled prosperity — and cataclysmic economic decline
Beginning November 11, 1918, when President Woodrow Wilson declared the end of World War I in a letter to the American public, and continuing through his defeat, Prohibition, the Big Red Scare, the rise of women’s hem lines, and the stock market crash of 1929, Only Yesterday: An Informal History of the 1920s, published just two years after the crash, chronicles a decade like no other. Allen, who witnessed firsthand the events he describes, makes the reader feel like part of history as it unfolds.
This bestselling, enduring account brings to life towering historical personages including J. Pierpont Morgan, Henry Ford, Sigmund Freud, Albert Einstein, Al Capone, Babe Ruth, and Jack Dempsey. Allen provides insightful, in-depth analyses of President Warren G. Harding’s oil scandal, the growth of the auto industry, the decline of the family farm, and the long bull market of the late twenties. Peppering his narrative with actual stock quotes and breaking financial news, Allen tracks the major economic trends of the decade and explores the underlying causes of the crash. From the trial of Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti to the inventions, crazes, and revolutions of the day, this timeless work will continue to be savored for generations to come.
,” Frederick Lewis Allen’s extraordinary social history takes readers back to a time of flappers and speakeasies, the first radio, unparalleled prosperity — and cataclysmic economic declineBeginning November 11, 1918, when President Woodrow Wilson declared the end of World War I in a letter to the American public, and continuing through his defeat, Prohibition, the Big Red Scare, the rise of women’s hem lines, and the stock market crash of 1929, Only Yesterday: An Informal History of the 1920s, published just two years after the crash, chronicles a decade like no other. Allen, who witnessed firsthand the events he describes, makes the reader feel like part of history as it unfolds.
This bestselling, enduring account brings to life towering historical personages including J. Pierpont Morgan, Henry Ford, Sigmund Freud, Albert Einstein, Al Capone, Babe Ruth, and Jack Dempsey. Allen provides insightful, in-depth analyses of President Warren G. Harding’s oil scandal, the growth of the auto industry, the decline of the family farm, and the long bull market of the late twenties. Peppering his narrative with actual stock quotes and breaking financial news, Allen tracks the major economic trends of the decade and explores the underlying causes of the crash. From the trial of Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti to the inventions, crazes, and revolutions of the day, this timeless work will continue to be savored for generations to come.
Monday, March 20, 2017
The Sinatra Club: My Life Inside the New York Mafia
The Mob was the biggest
, richest business in America . . . until it was destroyed from within by drugs, greed, and the decline of its traditional crime Family values. And by guys like Sal Polisi.
As a member of New York’s feared Colombo Family, Polisi ran The Sinatra Club, an illegal after-hours gambling den that was a magic kingdom of crime and a hangout for up-and-coming mobsters like John Gotti and the three wiseguys immortalized in Martin Scorsese’s GoodFellas—Henry Hill, Jimmy Burke, and Tommy DeSimone. But the nonstop thrills of Polisi’s criminal glory days abruptly ended when he was busted for drug trafficking. Already sickened by the bloodbath that engulfed the Mob as it teetered toward extinction, he flipped and became one of a breed he had loathed all his life—a rat.
In this shocking, pulse-pounding, and, at times, darkly hilarious first-person chronicle, The Sinatra Club: My Life Inside the New York Mafia, he paints a never-before-seen picture of a larger-than-life secret underworld that, thanks to guys like him, no longer exists.
, richest business in America . . . until it was destroyed from within by drugs, greed, and the decline of its traditional crime Family values. And by guys like Sal Polisi.
As a member of New York’s feared Colombo Family, Polisi ran The Sinatra Club, an illegal after-hours gambling den that was a magic kingdom of crime and a hangout for up-and-coming mobsters like John Gotti and the three wiseguys immortalized in Martin Scorsese’s GoodFellas—Henry Hill, Jimmy Burke, and Tommy DeSimone. But the nonstop thrills of Polisi’s criminal glory days abruptly ended when he was busted for drug trafficking. Already sickened by the bloodbath that engulfed the Mob as it teetered toward extinction, he flipped and became one of a breed he had loathed all his life—a rat.
In this shocking, pulse-pounding, and, at times, darkly hilarious first-person chronicle, The Sinatra Club: My Life Inside the New York Mafia, he paints a never-before-seen picture of a larger-than-life secret underworld that, thanks to guys like him, no longer exists.
Friday, March 17, 2017
The Westies: Inside New York's Irish Mob
Even among the Mob
, the Westies were feared. Starting with a partnership between two sadistic thugs, Jimmy Coonan and Mickey Featherstone, the gang rose out of the inferno of Hell's Kitchen, a decaying tenderloin slice of New York City's West Side. They became the most notorious gang in the history of organized crime, excelling in extortion, numbers running, loan sharking, and drug peddling. Upping the ante on depravity, their specialty was execution by dismemberment. Though never numbering more than a dozen members, their reign lasted for almost twenty years―until their own violent natures got the best of them, precipitating a downfall that would become as infamous as their notorious ascension into the annals of crime.
The Westies: Inside New York's Irish Mob.
, the Westies were feared. Starting with a partnership between two sadistic thugs, Jimmy Coonan and Mickey Featherstone, the gang rose out of the inferno of Hell's Kitchen, a decaying tenderloin slice of New York City's West Side. They became the most notorious gang in the history of organized crime, excelling in extortion, numbers running, loan sharking, and drug peddling. Upping the ante on depravity, their specialty was execution by dismemberment. Though never numbering more than a dozen members, their reign lasted for almost twenty years―until their own violent natures got the best of them, precipitating a downfall that would become as infamous as their notorious ascension into the annals of crime.The Westies: Inside New York's Irish Mob.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Search of Facebook Yields Arrest of Fugitive Mobster
A fugitive Italian mobster who had been living in Mexico under a false identity was behind bars Saturday after being tracked down on Facebook, police said.
Giulio Perrone, who is in his mid-sixties, had been a fugitive since 1998, when his lawyers failed in a final appeal against a 22-year prison sentence for links to the Naples mafia, the Camorra, and international drug trafficking.
He was first charged in 1993 after he and his wife were arrested while trying to import 16 kilos (35 pounds) of cocaine. Perrone disappeared the following year and had been unheard of until Italian police established, through Facebook, that he was living as Saverio Garcia Galiero, in Tampico, in the state of Tamaulipas in Mexico.
The police did not reveal details of how they traced him through the social media site.
Under the extensive powers Italian investigators enjoy when involved in anti-mafia cases, they could have been monitoring the online activity of associates of Perrone in Italy. Or they may have come across a picture of him by using image-recognition software, which is an increasingly useful tool for detectives tracking fugitives.
Perrone, who had remarried and had Mexican children, was described by police as a prominent figure in Italy's drug trade in the 1980s and early 1990s, acting as a wholesale supplier to Camorra clans.
He was arrested earlier this month at his Mexican home and deported, arriving late Friday in Rome.
Giulio Perrone, who is in his mid-sixties, had been a fugitive since 1998, when his lawyers failed in a final appeal against a 22-year prison sentence for links to the Naples mafia, the Camorra, and international drug trafficking.
He was first charged in 1993 after he and his wife were arrested while trying to import 16 kilos (35 pounds) of cocaine. Perrone disappeared the following year and had been unheard of until Italian police established, through Facebook, that he was living as Saverio Garcia Galiero, in Tampico, in the state of Tamaulipas in Mexico.
The police did not reveal details of how they traced him through the social media site.
Under the extensive powers Italian investigators enjoy when involved in anti-mafia cases, they could have been monitoring the online activity of associates of Perrone in Italy. Or they may have come across a picture of him by using image-recognition software, which is an increasingly useful tool for detectives tracking fugitives.
Perrone, who had remarried and had Mexican children, was described by police as a prominent figure in Italy's drug trade in the 1980s and early 1990s, acting as a wholesale supplier to Camorra clans.
He was arrested earlier this month at his Mexican home and deported, arriving late Friday in Rome.
Monday, March 13, 2017
Top 10 Most Wanted True-Crime Movies
We've called in some of the usual suspects and a few ringers to put together a lineup of the top 10 true-crime movies (although the names may have been changed to protect the innocent).
10. "St. Valentines Day Massacre" (1967
)
Perhaps no criminal has ever been featured in more pop culture than Al Capone. From 1932's "Scarface" to Brian DePalma's 1987 adaptation of "The Untouchables," the prohibition-era Chicago gangster has become a pop icon. While those two movies are mostly apocryphal, "The St. Valentine's Day Massacre" is based on an actual February 14, 1929, strike by Capone against rival gangster Bugs Moran's crew. The tall, thin Jason Robards may not look like Capone the way Robert De Niro does in "The Untouchables," and George Segal (playing a mob enforcer) couldn't be menacing in any context, but B-movie auteur Roger Corman's stylish direction makes this one of the more memorable mob movies (look for a cameo by the young Jack Nicholson).
9. "Monster" (2003
)
Arguments will rage forever as to whether the Florida prostitute-turned-serial killer Aileen Wuornos was a victimized vigilante or a pure psychopath, but few can deny the power of Charlize Theron's Oscar-winning portrayal in this 2003 film. Yes, Theron gained 30 pounds and wore hideous false teeth to obscure her natural beauty, but to reduce her transformation to mere physicality is unfair. Theron manages to make Wuornos simultaneously sympathetic and terrifying. You find yourself hoping she'll get her life together even though the film's tragic end is a foregone conclusion.
8. "Reversal of Fortune" (1990
)
Our tabloid culture's perverse fascination with crime takes on an air of Schadenfreude when it occurs in high society. "Reversal of Fortune" tells the true story of socialite Claus Von Bülow's attempt to overturn a conviction for attempted murder of his wife Sunny by insulin overdose. Glenn Close plays Sunny, both in flashbacks and in a voiceover narration from her vegetative comatose state. Jeremy Irons is at his icy best as the vindicated (but perhaps guilty?) Claus in a role that won him a Best Actor Oscar.
7. "The French Connection" (1971
)
Gene Hackman plays "Popeye" Doyle, a New York City police detective obsessed with capturing a French heroin smuggler in this thriller, based on an actual Turkey-France-United States drug-trafficking scheme that exploded in the 1960s. William Friedkin directed this nail-biter, one of those great, gritty '70s flicks that's painted in a dozen shades of gray. The film won Oscars for Best Picture, Actor, Screenplay and Editing and contains what many still consider the greatest car-chase scene in film history (as well as an achingly ambiguous ending that would never fly today).
6. "Heavenly Creatures" (1994
)
Years before he brought to life orcs and giant apes, director Peter Jackson tackled another kind of monster in the real-life story of two 1950s New Zealand girls who murder the mother who forbids them to see each other when their close friendship becomes too obsessive. In her first film role, Kate Winslet plays the daughter who takes a brick to her mother's head — 45 times. Jackson, following up his gore-fest horror film "Braindead," crafts a movie that's part Merchant Ivory, part Martin Scorsese.
5. "Dog Day Afternoon
" (1975
)
Sidney Lumet directs Al Pacino in arguably his best role as Sonny Wortzik, a man who attempts to rob a bank to pay for his lover's sex-change operation, only to have everything go wrong on a sweltering New York summer day. As a police standoff drags on for 14 hours, the throng of onlookers begins to root for Sonny as a champion of the oppressed. While it sounds like this is one of those "based on a true story" flicks that plays fast and loose with the details for dramatic impact, it actually hews very closely to the actual events of the robbery.
4. "Rope" (1948
) and "Compulsion" (1959
)
The Leopold & Loeb murder case was one of the most notorious crimes of the early 20th century. In 1924, two wealthy law students kidnapped and killed a 14-year-old neighbor merely to prove their professed Nietzschean superiority. Their subsequent trial (during which it was revealed they were lovers) caused a media frenzy, and the story inspired dozens of works of fiction. While Alfred Hitchcock's "Rope" is merely inspired by the events (turning the killers into two Manhattan students who strangle a friend right before a dinner party), it's a riveting portrait of narcissism. Hitch (no stranger to sublimated urges) paints almost every character (not just the killers) with black swaths of self-absorption, forcing the audience to consider the ease with which we all say we'd like to kill someone for the mildest infraction. "Compulsion" (which changes the names of the actual parties while mostly sticking to the details) is concerned more with the trial, with Orson Welles playing the stand-in for defense attorney Clarence Darrow. The movie has an oddly anachronistic style, never quite evoking the time period, but it is buoyed by some fine performances. More permissive times would allow 1992's "Swoon," which was more about the relationship between the two killers.
3. "All the President's Men" (1976
)
It had been not quite two years since Richard Nixon resigned as president of the United States in the wake of the Watergate scandal when the film version of the book by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward hit theaters, so the wounds on the nation were still fresh. Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford play the fledgling Washington Post reporters who uncover the connection between the White House and the break-in at the Democratic National Committee. As intricate as the story itself, the film still manages to be the most exciting "talking head" thriller you've ever seen.
2. "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer" (1986
)
At least in films, it used to be easy to spot the bad guys: They wore black, sported furrowed brow and sinister moustache, perhaps scarred by some past altercation. But "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer" presented a new kind of terror — an otherwise normal guy who just liked to murder. Based on the confessions of Henry Lee Lucas, this brutally visceral film (directed by John McNaughton) has earned cult status over the years. Michael Rooker plays Henry alongside Tom Towles as his white-trash killin' partner Otis. The movie is made only slightly less disturbing by the revelation that the majority of the hundreds of murders to which Lucas confessed never occurred.
1. "In Cold Blood" (1967
)
Truman Capote's groundbreaking 1965 book about the brutal slaying of a rural Kansas family was adapted into this chilling film two years later by Richard Brooks. The film opens by showing the parallel lives of the simple, God-fearing Clutters and Perry Smith and Dick Hickcock (Robert Blake and Scott Wilson), two hard-luck drifters who hear that there's a small fortune hidden on the Clutters' farm. The movie then cuts to the day after the murders — following the search for the killers, their capture, trial and execution — with the sad, maddening details of the pointless massacre told via flashback near the end of the film. The semi-documentary style of the movie combined with the stark black-and-white cinematography and understated performances by the cast add a harrowing air of authenticity to the film (and of course, recent events in the life of Blake have given "In Cold Blood" an ironic undercurrent that only adds to its true-crime résumé).
Of course
, the term "true-crime movie" is usually an oxymoron. Dramatic license or studio legal departments almost always force alterations of the facts. Arthur Penn's "Bonnie and Clyde" (1967) may be one of film's most celebrated crime dramas, but it's hardly an accurate depiction of the notorious Depression-era, bank-robbing duo.
So please don't track us down and shoot us if some of the films on this list fall slightly short of documentary. Although that would make a great movie ...
Thanks to Karl Heitmueller.
10. "St. Valentines Day Massacre" (1967
)Perhaps no criminal has ever been featured in more pop culture than Al Capone. From 1932's "Scarface" to Brian DePalma's 1987 adaptation of "The Untouchables," the prohibition-era Chicago gangster has become a pop icon. While those two movies are mostly apocryphal, "The St. Valentine's Day Massacre" is based on an actual February 14, 1929, strike by Capone against rival gangster Bugs Moran's crew. The tall, thin Jason Robards may not look like Capone the way Robert De Niro does in "The Untouchables," and George Segal (playing a mob enforcer) couldn't be menacing in any context, but B-movie auteur Roger Corman's stylish direction makes this one of the more memorable mob movies (look for a cameo by the young Jack Nicholson).
9. "Monster" (2003
)Arguments will rage forever as to whether the Florida prostitute-turned-serial killer Aileen Wuornos was a victimized vigilante or a pure psychopath, but few can deny the power of Charlize Theron's Oscar-winning portrayal in this 2003 film. Yes, Theron gained 30 pounds and wore hideous false teeth to obscure her natural beauty, but to reduce her transformation to mere physicality is unfair. Theron manages to make Wuornos simultaneously sympathetic and terrifying. You find yourself hoping she'll get her life together even though the film's tragic end is a foregone conclusion.
8. "Reversal of Fortune" (1990
)Our tabloid culture's perverse fascination with crime takes on an air of Schadenfreude when it occurs in high society. "Reversal of Fortune" tells the true story of socialite Claus Von Bülow's attempt to overturn a conviction for attempted murder of his wife Sunny by insulin overdose. Glenn Close plays Sunny, both in flashbacks and in a voiceover narration from her vegetative comatose state. Jeremy Irons is at his icy best as the vindicated (but perhaps guilty?) Claus in a role that won him a Best Actor Oscar.
7. "The French Connection" (1971
)Gene Hackman plays "Popeye" Doyle, a New York City police detective obsessed with capturing a French heroin smuggler in this thriller, based on an actual Turkey-France-United States drug-trafficking scheme that exploded in the 1960s. William Friedkin directed this nail-biter, one of those great, gritty '70s flicks that's painted in a dozen shades of gray. The film won Oscars for Best Picture, Actor, Screenplay and Editing and contains what many still consider the greatest car-chase scene in film history (as well as an achingly ambiguous ending that would never fly today).
6. "Heavenly Creatures" (1994
)Years before he brought to life orcs and giant apes, director Peter Jackson tackled another kind of monster in the real-life story of two 1950s New Zealand girls who murder the mother who forbids them to see each other when their close friendship becomes too obsessive. In her first film role, Kate Winslet plays the daughter who takes a brick to her mother's head — 45 times. Jackson, following up his gore-fest horror film "Braindead," crafts a movie that's part Merchant Ivory, part Martin Scorsese.
5. "Dog Day Afternoon
" (1975
)Sidney Lumet directs Al Pacino in arguably his best role as Sonny Wortzik, a man who attempts to rob a bank to pay for his lover's sex-change operation, only to have everything go wrong on a sweltering New York summer day. As a police standoff drags on for 14 hours, the throng of onlookers begins to root for Sonny as a champion of the oppressed. While it sounds like this is one of those "based on a true story" flicks that plays fast and loose with the details for dramatic impact, it actually hews very closely to the actual events of the robbery.
4. "Rope" (1948
) and "Compulsion" (1959
)The Leopold & Loeb murder case was one of the most notorious crimes of the early 20th century. In 1924, two wealthy law students kidnapped and killed a 14-year-old neighbor merely to prove their professed Nietzschean superiority. Their subsequent trial (during which it was revealed they were lovers) caused a media frenzy, and the story inspired dozens of works of fiction. While Alfred Hitchcock's "Rope" is merely inspired by the events (turning the killers into two Manhattan students who strangle a friend right before a dinner party), it's a riveting portrait of narcissism. Hitch (no stranger to sublimated urges) paints almost every character (not just the killers) with black swaths of self-absorption, forcing the audience to consider the ease with which we all say we'd like to kill someone for the mildest infraction. "Compulsion" (which changes the names of the actual parties while mostly sticking to the details) is concerned more with the trial, with Orson Welles playing the stand-in for defense attorney Clarence Darrow. The movie has an oddly anachronistic style, never quite evoking the time period, but it is buoyed by some fine performances. More permissive times would allow 1992's "Swoon," which was more about the relationship between the two killers.
3. "All the President's Men" (1976
)It had been not quite two years since Richard Nixon resigned as president of the United States in the wake of the Watergate scandal when the film version of the book by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward hit theaters, so the wounds on the nation were still fresh. Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford play the fledgling Washington Post reporters who uncover the connection between the White House and the break-in at the Democratic National Committee. As intricate as the story itself, the film still manages to be the most exciting "talking head" thriller you've ever seen.
2. "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer" (1986
)At least in films, it used to be easy to spot the bad guys: They wore black, sported furrowed brow and sinister moustache, perhaps scarred by some past altercation. But "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer" presented a new kind of terror — an otherwise normal guy who just liked to murder. Based on the confessions of Henry Lee Lucas, this brutally visceral film (directed by John McNaughton) has earned cult status over the years. Michael Rooker plays Henry alongside Tom Towles as his white-trash killin' partner Otis. The movie is made only slightly less disturbing by the revelation that the majority of the hundreds of murders to which Lucas confessed never occurred.
1. "In Cold Blood" (1967
)Truman Capote's groundbreaking 1965 book about the brutal slaying of a rural Kansas family was adapted into this chilling film two years later by Richard Brooks. The film opens by showing the parallel lives of the simple, God-fearing Clutters and Perry Smith and Dick Hickcock (Robert Blake and Scott Wilson), two hard-luck drifters who hear that there's a small fortune hidden on the Clutters' farm. The movie then cuts to the day after the murders — following the search for the killers, their capture, trial and execution — with the sad, maddening details of the pointless massacre told via flashback near the end of the film. The semi-documentary style of the movie combined with the stark black-and-white cinematography and understated performances by the cast add a harrowing air of authenticity to the film (and of course, recent events in the life of Blake have given "In Cold Blood" an ironic undercurrent that only adds to its true-crime résumé).
Of course
, the term "true-crime movie" is usually an oxymoron. Dramatic license or studio legal departments almost always force alterations of the facts. Arthur Penn's "Bonnie and Clyde" (1967) may be one of film's most celebrated crime dramas, but it's hardly an accurate depiction of the notorious Depression-era, bank-robbing duo.So please don't track us down and shoot us if some of the films on this list fall slightly short of documentary. Although that would make a great movie ...
Thanks to Karl Heitmueller.
McMafia: A Journey Through the Global Criminal Underworld
What do Colombian cocaine, Angolan diamonds and fake Gucci bags from China have in common?
Answer: organized crime, globalization and financial deregulation
.
While the Sicilian word Mafia summons fictional images of Don Corleone wearing a tuxedo or Tony Soprano smoking a cigar, the truth is that organized crime has become a real menace on every corner of the globe, writes Misha Glenny in ``McMafia: A Journey Through the Global Criminal Underworld''
Glenny, the author of two previous books on the Balkans, covered the unraveling of the former Soviet bloc for the British Broadcasting Corp.'s World Service. For this book, he embarked on a tour of the new capitals of organized crime to collect anecdotes that illustrate the criminal bonanza that followed the fall of the U.S.S.R. and the liberalization of financial markets.
``The collapse of the Communist superpower, the Soviet Union, is the single most important event prompting the exponential growth of organized crime around the world in the last two decades,'' he writes.
The result: The criminal economy now accounts for 15 percent to 20 percent of the planet's gross domestic product, he says, citing figures from the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund and research institutes. Global GDP stood at $53.4 trillion last year, the IMF estimates.
Glenny treats us to dozens of stories culled during his journey, which began in the Balkans and ended in China, identified here as tomorrow's breeding ground of organized crime.
In India, he chases a former contract killer called Mahmoud through ``an elaborate game of musical cafes.'' When they finally meet, the retired assassin turns out to be affable, urbane and intelligent, he says.
``My experience in the Balkans led me to conclude that most murderers are not congenital psychopaths,'' he writes. They are, rather, people who are encouraged by circumstances to violate the commandment, ``Thou shalt not kill,'' he says.
In Zagreb, Glenny's rented Audi Quattro is stolen and goes on ``a mystery tour that would end several weeks later at a used car market 200 miles away in Mostar, the capital of western Herzegovina.''
In North America, he rides with a smuggler who's running pot into the U.S. from British Columbia. ``BC Bud'' sales in the U.S. represent a $6 billion-a-year industry, although they account for just 2 percent of America's annual cannabis consumption, he says.
Glenny displays a command of the subject and a knack for capturing characters and scenes. His style is conversational, as if the book were told at the dinner table.
He hops from continent to continent, mirroring the way dirty money flows from Moscow to Dubai, from Dubai to Johannesburg, and so on. Along the way, he shows how the licit and illicit economies are joined at the hip.
Consider how easy it is to launder money at a time when financing is so complicated that leading banks struggle to quantify their losses on U.S. subprime mortgages.
``In a world where legitimate institutions are unable to account properly for their dealings, the ability of criminals to launder their money through this merry-go-round of speculation greatly increased,'' Glenny says.
``McMafia: A Journey Through the Global Criminal Underworld'' does lack a unifying narrative thread. The only character tying the various stories together is the author himself. And while we meet some victims of organized crime, including a Moldovan woman forced to prostitute herself in Israel, the ugliest side of the underworld is clouded by the intriguing tales Glenny tells of powerful mob bosses.
These are minor complaints for a book that helps explain how organized crime has managed to spread its tentacles so far and wide. Blame it on two contradictory trends, he says: ``global markets that are either insufficiently regulated, especially in the financial sector, or markets that are too closely regulated, as in the labor and agricultural sectors.''
This plays into the hands of creative and violent criminals. They easily overcome market restrictions, such as the former UN embargo on Slobodan Milosevic's Serbia. Then they wash their ill- gotten proceeds through prestigious financial institutions.
Mob bosses have been ``good capitalists and entrepreneurs,'' Glenny says. ``They valued economies of scale, just as multinational corporations did, and so they sought out overseas partners and markets to develop industries that were every bit as cosmopolitan as Shell, Nike, or McDonald's.''
Reviewed by Steve Scherer.
Answer: organized crime, globalization and financial deregulation
.While the Sicilian word Mafia summons fictional images of Don Corleone wearing a tuxedo or Tony Soprano smoking a cigar, the truth is that organized crime has become a real menace on every corner of the globe, writes Misha Glenny in ``McMafia: A Journey Through the Global Criminal Underworld''
Glenny, the author of two previous books on the Balkans, covered the unraveling of the former Soviet bloc for the British Broadcasting Corp.'s World Service. For this book, he embarked on a tour of the new capitals of organized crime to collect anecdotes that illustrate the criminal bonanza that followed the fall of the U.S.S.R. and the liberalization of financial markets.
``The collapse of the Communist superpower, the Soviet Union, is the single most important event prompting the exponential growth of organized crime around the world in the last two decades,'' he writes.
The result: The criminal economy now accounts for 15 percent to 20 percent of the planet's gross domestic product, he says, citing figures from the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund and research institutes. Global GDP stood at $53.4 trillion last year, the IMF estimates.
Glenny treats us to dozens of stories culled during his journey, which began in the Balkans and ended in China, identified here as tomorrow's breeding ground of organized crime.
In India, he chases a former contract killer called Mahmoud through ``an elaborate game of musical cafes.'' When they finally meet, the retired assassin turns out to be affable, urbane and intelligent, he says.
``My experience in the Balkans led me to conclude that most murderers are not congenital psychopaths,'' he writes. They are, rather, people who are encouraged by circumstances to violate the commandment, ``Thou shalt not kill,'' he says.
In Zagreb, Glenny's rented Audi Quattro is stolen and goes on ``a mystery tour that would end several weeks later at a used car market 200 miles away in Mostar, the capital of western Herzegovina.''
In North America, he rides with a smuggler who's running pot into the U.S. from British Columbia. ``BC Bud'' sales in the U.S. represent a $6 billion-a-year industry, although they account for just 2 percent of America's annual cannabis consumption, he says.
Glenny displays a command of the subject and a knack for capturing characters and scenes. His style is conversational, as if the book were told at the dinner table.
He hops from continent to continent, mirroring the way dirty money flows from Moscow to Dubai, from Dubai to Johannesburg, and so on. Along the way, he shows how the licit and illicit economies are joined at the hip.
Consider how easy it is to launder money at a time when financing is so complicated that leading banks struggle to quantify their losses on U.S. subprime mortgages.
``In a world where legitimate institutions are unable to account properly for their dealings, the ability of criminals to launder their money through this merry-go-round of speculation greatly increased,'' Glenny says.
``McMafia: A Journey Through the Global Criminal Underworld'' does lack a unifying narrative thread. The only character tying the various stories together is the author himself. And while we meet some victims of organized crime, including a Moldovan woman forced to prostitute herself in Israel, the ugliest side of the underworld is clouded by the intriguing tales Glenny tells of powerful mob bosses.
These are minor complaints for a book that helps explain how organized crime has managed to spread its tentacles so far and wide. Blame it on two contradictory trends, he says: ``global markets that are either insufficiently regulated, especially in the financial sector, or markets that are too closely regulated, as in the labor and agricultural sectors.''
This plays into the hands of creative and violent criminals. They easily overcome market restrictions, such as the former UN embargo on Slobodan Milosevic's Serbia. Then they wash their ill- gotten proceeds through prestigious financial institutions.
Mob bosses have been ``good capitalists and entrepreneurs,'' Glenny says. ``They valued economies of scale, just as multinational corporations did, and so they sought out overseas partners and markets to develop industries that were every bit as cosmopolitan as Shell, Nike, or McDonald's.''
Reviewed by Steve Scherer.
Monday, March 06, 2017
Teacher has Sex with Students, Then Threatens them with the Mafia
Allison Marchese, 39, has been jailed for three years after grooming two students for sex behind her husband’s back.
The English teacher, from Connecticut, US, stalked the high school students by sending them X-rated text messages and selfies, a court heard.
One of the students told cops how Marchese kissed him and touched him “downtown”. The 17-year-old pupil said the teacher summoned him into a classroom before locking the door and performing a sex act on him. The lad said he “freaked” out after that and told Marchese that she could pay him £160 ($200) to keep quiet about the session.
She then claimed her father was “an abusive man” and “in the Mafia” in a series of chilling threats to the teen.
The threats came after the mum-of-two sent the pupil “weird” text messages and half-naked selfies.
The racy pictures could also be viewed by other students on Instagram, the court heard. But Marchese claimed the snaps were meant for her husband, who worked at the same school.
Marchese was also accused of sending “non-stop” naughty pics to another student, age 14.
Marchese said she “couldn’t concentrate during class because he was so good-looking and she could not sleep at night because she was thinking about him.”
When one student asked her to stop, she replied: “I know when to stop, I know when to move on, but ‘I know’ is different from ‘I can’.”
"Thong selfie" teacher Marchese was suspended from Daniel Hand High in Madison, Connecticut, after the allegations emerged in January 2015.
She was initially charged with second-degree sexual assault and risk of injury to a minor. But last November she pleaded guilty to a string of charges including two counts of first-degree unlawful restraint, two of second-degree reckless endangerment, one of second-degree harassment and one of second-degree threatening.
The blonde sobbed quietly as relatives of the boys told how she hurt their lives.
One parent said: “The actions done by this woman has caused immeasurable damage to my son.”
Judge Melanie Cradle told Marchese: “You were a teacher and you were in a position of trust. And the bottom line here is the victims are kids and were their teacher. “A person who is engaged in the noble profession of shaping lives, values and thought processes of our youth. “It’s certainly a gift you should’ve taken more seriously.”
In her defense, her lawyer William Dow III told the court: “This happened in a very, very tough time in Marchese’s life. “It’s incorrect to portray her as someone who lacks remorse.”
Reported by Joshua Nevett.
The English teacher, from Connecticut, US, stalked the high school students by sending them X-rated text messages and selfies, a court heard.
One of the students told cops how Marchese kissed him and touched him “downtown”. The 17-year-old pupil said the teacher summoned him into a classroom before locking the door and performing a sex act on him. The lad said he “freaked” out after that and told Marchese that she could pay him £160 ($200) to keep quiet about the session.
She then claimed her father was “an abusive man” and “in the Mafia” in a series of chilling threats to the teen.
The threats came after the mum-of-two sent the pupil “weird” text messages and half-naked selfies.
The racy pictures could also be viewed by other students on Instagram, the court heard. But Marchese claimed the snaps were meant for her husband, who worked at the same school.
Marchese was also accused of sending “non-stop” naughty pics to another student, age 14.
Marchese said she “couldn’t concentrate during class because he was so good-looking and she could not sleep at night because she was thinking about him.”
When one student asked her to stop, she replied: “I know when to stop, I know when to move on, but ‘I know’ is different from ‘I can’.”
"Thong selfie" teacher Marchese was suspended from Daniel Hand High in Madison, Connecticut, after the allegations emerged in January 2015.
She was initially charged with second-degree sexual assault and risk of injury to a minor. But last November she pleaded guilty to a string of charges including two counts of first-degree unlawful restraint, two of second-degree reckless endangerment, one of second-degree harassment and one of second-degree threatening.
The blonde sobbed quietly as relatives of the boys told how she hurt their lives.
One parent said: “The actions done by this woman has caused immeasurable damage to my son.”
Judge Melanie Cradle told Marchese: “You were a teacher and you were in a position of trust. And the bottom line here is the victims are kids and were their teacher. “A person who is engaged in the noble profession of shaping lives, values and thought processes of our youth. “It’s certainly a gift you should’ve taken more seriously.”
In her defense, her lawyer William Dow III told the court: “This happened in a very, very tough time in Marchese’s life. “It’s incorrect to portray her as someone who lacks remorse.”
Reported by Joshua Nevett.
"Windy City"
The mayor of Chicago is found dead at his desk just past 11 p.m. in his boxer shorts, face-down in what's left of a poisoned extra-cheese-prosciutto-and-artichoke pizza.
As the mayor's inner circle convenes
, his gay chief of staff commits suicide and his longtime secretary confesses to the cops her long-ago affair with hizzoner.
Ambitious city council members can't wait until the body is cold to start maneuvering to take over.
In a city legendary for its dead voting early and often, it's no surprise that the deceased mayor continues to weigh heavily on the postmortem proceedings.
Stepping forward as "interim acting mayor" amid this delectable political chaos is Windy City's articulate and witty protagonist, Indian-born Sundaran "Sunny" Roopini.
A stand-up alderman from the 48th district, Roopini must juggle the council members' egos, dirty secrets and dealmaking while pinch-hitting for the kingpin with appearances at weddings, church services and other mundane municipal duties.
A widower whose wife was murdered, Roopini shows so much tenderness and wisdom in quelling the storm at City Hall while raising two daughters that readers will not forget soon him.
Best known as the host of National Public Radio's Weekend Edition, Scott Simon is also the author of the sports-fan memoir Home and Away, the non-fiction book Jackie Robinson and the Integration of Baseball, and Pretty Birds, his previous novel based in war-torn Sarajevo. But this compelling murder mystery, laden with insider big-city politics, is about Chicago and nowhere else.
Whether it's a paean to Chicago's bitter cold, or tips on how to make Indian dosas, or an embrace of the city's diverse populace, Simon leaves no doubt about his passion for the city.
The author's detailed descriptions are deep-dish, so self-indulgent sometimes that they make you feel like you've eaten too much of a good thing. And Windy City, can be a windy novel. But just as you start thinking it's all too much, Simon comes up with another great line or a sneak-up-on-you aside so clever or humorous, you read on.
For Chicago lovers and city-politics fiends, this novel is a must-read.
For everyone else, the book offers an insider's view of the kind of urban political fray — albeit fictional — that Barack Obama emerged from as an Illinois state legislator representing Chicago's South Side.
Thanks to Don Oldenburg
As the mayor's inner circle convenes
, his gay chief of staff commits suicide and his longtime secretary confesses to the cops her long-ago affair with hizzoner.Ambitious city council members can't wait until the body is cold to start maneuvering to take over.
In a city legendary for its dead voting early and often, it's no surprise that the deceased mayor continues to weigh heavily on the postmortem proceedings.
Stepping forward as "interim acting mayor" amid this delectable political chaos is Windy City's articulate and witty protagonist, Indian-born Sundaran "Sunny" Roopini.
A stand-up alderman from the 48th district, Roopini must juggle the council members' egos, dirty secrets and dealmaking while pinch-hitting for the kingpin with appearances at weddings, church services and other mundane municipal duties.
A widower whose wife was murdered, Roopini shows so much tenderness and wisdom in quelling the storm at City Hall while raising two daughters that readers will not forget soon him.
Best known as the host of National Public Radio's Weekend Edition, Scott Simon is also the author of the sports-fan memoir Home and Away, the non-fiction book Jackie Robinson and the Integration of Baseball, and Pretty Birds, his previous novel based in war-torn Sarajevo. But this compelling murder mystery, laden with insider big-city politics, is about Chicago and nowhere else.
Whether it's a paean to Chicago's bitter cold, or tips on how to make Indian dosas, or an embrace of the city's diverse populace, Simon leaves no doubt about his passion for the city.
The author's detailed descriptions are deep-dish, so self-indulgent sometimes that they make you feel like you've eaten too much of a good thing. And Windy City, can be a windy novel. But just as you start thinking it's all too much, Simon comes up with another great line or a sneak-up-on-you aside so clever or humorous, you read on.
For Chicago lovers and city-politics fiends, this novel is a must-read.
For everyone else, the book offers an insider's view of the kind of urban political fray — albeit fictional — that Barack Obama emerged from as an Illinois state legislator representing Chicago's South Side.
Thanks to Don Oldenburg
Friday, March 03, 2017
Green Card Warrior: My Quest for Legal Immigration in an Illegals' System
How One Man Took On The State Department and Won
Nick Adams had it all
: charisma, energy, a promising TV career, a new organization and an approved Green Card petition. The world was at his feet.
Then came the unexpected sabotage and political persecution from one individual. It began a spiral of destruction – finances, family, health and career. He almost lost it all.
Green Card Warrior: My Quest for Legal Immigration in an Illegals' System, is an explosive and startling exposé into the world of legal immigration and what many must endure to come to America.
Rising conservative star Nick Adams reveals how he was persecuted by the Obama Administration, and offers an incisive critique of the immigration system – both legal and illegal.
This eye-opening account shows how the Obama Administration has broken new ground in its intimidation and harassment of political opponents, now using its State Department to screen and select immigrants based on their politics.
In Green Card Warrior: My Quest for Legal Immigration in an Illegals' System, Adams recounts his personal tale, setting it against the larger story of the broken legal immigration system, and unfairness of illegal immigration in America today.
Nick Adams had it all
: charisma, energy, a promising TV career, a new organization and an approved Green Card petition. The world was at his feet.Then came the unexpected sabotage and political persecution from one individual. It began a spiral of destruction – finances, family, health and career. He almost lost it all.
Green Card Warrior: My Quest for Legal Immigration in an Illegals' System, is an explosive and startling exposé into the world of legal immigration and what many must endure to come to America.
Rising conservative star Nick Adams reveals how he was persecuted by the Obama Administration, and offers an incisive critique of the immigration system – both legal and illegal.
This eye-opening account shows how the Obama Administration has broken new ground in its intimidation and harassment of political opponents, now using its State Department to screen and select immigrants based on their politics.
In Green Card Warrior: My Quest for Legal Immigration in an Illegals' System, Adams recounts his personal tale, setting it against the larger story of the broken legal immigration system, and unfairness of illegal immigration in America today.
Thursday, March 02, 2017
Telephone Scam Demands Payment to Remove US Marshal Federal Arrest Warrant
The U.S. Marshals Service is warning the public of a telephone scam involving a fraudulent caller contacting members of the public and alleging they, or their family members, have an active federal arrest warrant and demanding payment of fines.
Recently, there were reported attempts of a fraudulent caller who identified himself as a Deputy United States Marshal. This phony law enforcement officer informed the potential victims that warrants were being issued for them or their family member due to being absent from a federal grand jury they were previously summoned to appear before. The potential victims were then informed they could avoid arrest by paying a fine by electronic fund transfer or cashier’s check. The Marshals Service became aware of the scam after receiving information from several calls from alert citizens.
The U.S. Marshals Service is a federal law enforcement agency and does not seek payment of fines or fees via the telephone for individuals with outstanding arrest warrants.
The U.S. Marshals Service urges individuals not to divulge personal or financial information to unknown callers and highly recommends the public report similar crimes to the FBI or their local police office if they are the victims of fraud. For internet related fraud, the FBI Internet Crime Complaint Center can be contacted at www.ic3.gov.
Recently, there were reported attempts of a fraudulent caller who identified himself as a Deputy United States Marshal. This phony law enforcement officer informed the potential victims that warrants were being issued for them or their family member due to being absent from a federal grand jury they were previously summoned to appear before. The potential victims were then informed they could avoid arrest by paying a fine by electronic fund transfer or cashier’s check. The Marshals Service became aware of the scam after receiving information from several calls from alert citizens.
The U.S. Marshals Service is a federal law enforcement agency and does not seek payment of fines or fees via the telephone for individuals with outstanding arrest warrants.
The U.S. Marshals Service urges individuals not to divulge personal or financial information to unknown callers and highly recommends the public report similar crimes to the FBI or their local police office if they are the victims of fraud. For internet related fraud, the FBI Internet Crime Complaint Center can be contacted at www.ic3.gov.
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Latin King Gang Member Indicted for Murder of Star College Basketball Player
A two-count indictment was unsealed in the United States District Court in Central Islip, New York, charging defendant Jaime Rivera, a member of the Almighty Latin King and Queen Nation street gang, with the 2005 murder of C.W. Post student and basketball star Tafare Berryman, as well as a related firearms charge. The defendant was scheduled to be arraigned before United States Magistrate Judge Steven I. Locke.
The charges were announced by Robert L. Capers, United States Attorney for the Eastern District of New York, William F. Sweeney, Jr., Assistant Director-in-Charge of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, New York Field Office (FBI), James J. Hunt, Special Agent-in-Charge of the New York Field Division of the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), and Thomas Krumpter, Acting Commissioner, Nassau County Police Department (NCPD).
“Gang violence has taken the lives of too many innocent young people with bright futures,” stated United States Attorney Capers. “This case should serve as a message to all gang members, if you engage in violent gang activity, our law enforcement partners will not stop pursuing you until you are held accountable for your actions.” Mr. Capers expressed his grateful appreciation to the FBI, DEA, and NCPD.
“The mentality that an innocent person is some sort of threat to a gang member or a gang defies logic. A student who was out having a good time, ended up in the middle of a dangerous situation and was killed for absolutely no reason. No one deserves to die because they found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. The FBI Long Island Safe Streets Task Force and our law enforcement partners never gave up and continued to work this case to charge the shooter and now he will be held accountable,” stated Assistant Director-in-Charge Sweeney.
DEA Special Agent in Charge James Hunt stated, “Our job in law enforcement is to bring criminals to justice. By joining forces with the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of New York, Nassau County Police Department and Federal Bureau of Investigation, we identified and arrested the person allegedly responsible for murdering Tafare Berryman, who was tragically taken away from his family and friends 12 years ago. Drug-related violence is just one more casualty of drug trafficking that shatters families and ends lives.”
“Today's announcement is the culmination of an extensive investigation that was worked on collaboratively by numerous law enforcement investigative agencies. Protecting the public is our number one priority and today’s indictment of defendant Rivera was of the utmost importance,” stated Acting Commissioner of Police Krumpter.
As detailed in the indictment and the government’s detention letter filed earlier today, on April 2, 2005, Rivera and other Latin King gang members were present at La Mansion bar and nightclub located at 3942 Long Beach Road, N. Long Beach. Also present at the club were numerous C.W. Post students, including Tafare Berryman and some of his friends, who were celebrating the successful presentation of a fashion show that had taken place at Post earlier that evening. At least one incident occurred inside of the club between some gang members and one of the Post students, which later spilled out into a parking lot across from the club.
At approximately 5:00 a.m. on April 3, 2005, Berryman and a friend exited the club and observed several fights occurring in the parking lot. While walking to their car, Berryman’s friend was hit in the head with a bottle causing a laceration. Berryman and his friend then entered a car and drove away. Several blocks from the club, Berryman’s friend, who was driving, pulled the car over to the side of the road to tend to the laceration on his head which was bleeding profusely. At that point, Rivera pulled up alongside of the parked car and shot Berryman once, killing him because Rivera mistakenly believed that Berryman and his friend were involved in the prior altercation in the parking lot and were a threat to the Latin Kings.
The charges were announced by Robert L. Capers, United States Attorney for the Eastern District of New York, William F. Sweeney, Jr., Assistant Director-in-Charge of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, New York Field Office (FBI), James J. Hunt, Special Agent-in-Charge of the New York Field Division of the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), and Thomas Krumpter, Acting Commissioner, Nassau County Police Department (NCPD).
“Gang violence has taken the lives of too many innocent young people with bright futures,” stated United States Attorney Capers. “This case should serve as a message to all gang members, if you engage in violent gang activity, our law enforcement partners will not stop pursuing you until you are held accountable for your actions.” Mr. Capers expressed his grateful appreciation to the FBI, DEA, and NCPD.
“The mentality that an innocent person is some sort of threat to a gang member or a gang defies logic. A student who was out having a good time, ended up in the middle of a dangerous situation and was killed for absolutely no reason. No one deserves to die because they found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. The FBI Long Island Safe Streets Task Force and our law enforcement partners never gave up and continued to work this case to charge the shooter and now he will be held accountable,” stated Assistant Director-in-Charge Sweeney.
DEA Special Agent in Charge James Hunt stated, “Our job in law enforcement is to bring criminals to justice. By joining forces with the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of New York, Nassau County Police Department and Federal Bureau of Investigation, we identified and arrested the person allegedly responsible for murdering Tafare Berryman, who was tragically taken away from his family and friends 12 years ago. Drug-related violence is just one more casualty of drug trafficking that shatters families and ends lives.”
“Today's announcement is the culmination of an extensive investigation that was worked on collaboratively by numerous law enforcement investigative agencies. Protecting the public is our number one priority and today’s indictment of defendant Rivera was of the utmost importance,” stated Acting Commissioner of Police Krumpter.
As detailed in the indictment and the government’s detention letter filed earlier today, on April 2, 2005, Rivera and other Latin King gang members were present at La Mansion bar and nightclub located at 3942 Long Beach Road, N. Long Beach. Also present at the club were numerous C.W. Post students, including Tafare Berryman and some of his friends, who were celebrating the successful presentation of a fashion show that had taken place at Post earlier that evening. At least one incident occurred inside of the club between some gang members and one of the Post students, which later spilled out into a parking lot across from the club.
At approximately 5:00 a.m. on April 3, 2005, Berryman and a friend exited the club and observed several fights occurring in the parking lot. While walking to their car, Berryman’s friend was hit in the head with a bottle causing a laceration. Berryman and his friend then entered a car and drove away. Several blocks from the club, Berryman’s friend, who was driving, pulled the car over to the side of the road to tend to the laceration on his head which was bleeding profusely. At that point, Rivera pulled up alongside of the parked car and shot Berryman once, killing him because Rivera mistakenly believed that Berryman and his friend were involved in the prior altercation in the parking lot and were a threat to the Latin Kings.
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