Appeal Heard for FBI Agent Convicted of Aiding Whitey Bulger

A lawyer for retired FBI agent John J. Connolly Jr. urged a federal appeals court today to overturn his 2002 racketeering conviction because one of the government's key witnesses, former New England Mafia boss Francis "Cadillac Frank'' Salemme, allegedly boasted to a fellow mobster that he lied on the stand.

Judge Bruce M. Selya questioned the events described by Connolly's lawyer, suggesting that Salemme may have told the truth in court and then lied to Philadelphia mobster Roger Vella when the two of them were imprisoned together later.

"We have a Mafia don who is committing the worst crime a Mafia don can ... he rats out and cooperates with the feds,'' said Selya, one of three judges on the US Court of Appeals for the First Circuit considering Connolly's case. "Why isn't it the most natural thing for him to try to explain away his cooperation?''

Braintree attorney Terrance J. McCarthy, who represents Connolly, argued that Salemme "had every reason to tell Vella the truth'' when he claimed prosecutors helped him shape his story to win a conviction because he didn't know Vella was a confidential informant and would later report the boasts to the FBI.

Connolly is serving 10 years in prison. He was convicted of racketeering, obstruction of justice, and lying to an FBI agent for protecting longtime informants James "Whitey" Bulger and Stephen "The Rifleman'' Flemmi from prosecution and leaking them information. He's also scheduled to stand trial in Miami in March for a 1982 gangland slaying.

Salemme, who had been granted immunity for his testimony at Connolly's trial, was indicted in 2004 on a charge of lying to investigators by withholding information about the 1993 disappearance of South Boston nightclub manager Steven DiSarro. Federal prosecutors allege Salemme witnessed DiSarro's slaying and helped bury his body, and he is awaiting trial in that case.

"Doesn't that cloud the picture a bit?" said Circuit Judge Kermit V. Lipez, questioning the government today about why any of Salemme's testimony at Connolly's trial should be believed, given that he's now awaiting trial for lying.

US Special Attorney William J. Nardini said Salemme allegedly lied about his involvement in DiSarro's slaying to protect other organized-crime figures. He argued that Salemme's statements to Vella -- including claims that the government promised him $500,000 for his testimony and a condo on a golf course -- were "pretty absurd.''

Thanks to Shelley Murphy

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Will Family Secrets Mob Trial Convictions Doom Chicago Mob?

Does Monday's conviction of four top mobsters mean the end of the Chicago Outfit?

Hardly.

The Outfit long has controlled illegal gambling operations -- from sports betting to video poker -- and has financed Chicago-area drug dealing, said Chicago Crime Commission President James Wagner, a former top FBI mob fighter. Money from those ventures often is invested in law-abiding businesses because "you've got to have somewhere to send that cash in order to legitimize it," Wagner said.

History has shown that when Outfit members get sent to prison, others take over. The most recent transfers of power happened long before the Family Secrets trial began, Wagner said. "This will solidify the positions of the people already out there," he said. The trial "hasn't eliminated anything."

Who runs the Chicago mob isn't clear. Reputed mobsters not charged in the Family Secrets case who are still powerful in the Outfit include John "No Nose" DiFronzo, Joe "The Builder" Andriacchi, Al Tornabene, Frank "Tootsie Babe" Caruso, Marco D'Amico and Michael Sarno, law enforcement sources said.

Al Egan, a former Chicago Police detective who investigated organized crime here for three decades, said the verdict wounded the Outfit but won't kill it.

"This put an extremely huge dent in it," said Egan, who worked on the federal Organized Crime Task Force. However, "It's not going to be stopped."

Thanks to Steve Warmbir and Chris Fusco

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Mum's the Word

Aheavy-set, gray-haired fellow stepped outside the Old Neighborhood Italian-American Club Monday afternoon, sat down at a picnic table and started trimming his fingernails with a set of pocket clippers just as I walked up.

I told him who I was and what I was doing, which was looking for reaction to Monday's across-the-board guilty verdicts in the big Family Secrets mob trial.

He glanced up without actually lifting his chin, shook his head, grunted and shook his head again.

I took it for a no comment.

The next guy out the door was friendlier. He laid his cane on the picnic table as he sat down, smiled when I made my introduction and said he reads the Sun-Times regularly. He even said he likes my column and mentioned another columnist here he doesn't like. I told him the other columnist was great.

"I'm just telling you the truth," he said. I told him that's all we can ask.

While this was going on, a big guy came to the door and asked the guy with the fingernail clippers if he could come inside a minute, which was just about the time I was asking the friendly guy about the verdict in the mob trial.

The friendly guy suddenly grew hard of hearing, a blank faraway expression crossing his face. I repeated my question. His look grew more pained. Words seemed to fail him.

Then the guy with fingernail clippers opened the door and told the friendly guy (he might have called him John) that he had a phone call. John asked me what the other guy had said, his mind having tried so hard not to hear me that it seemed to have blocked out all other sound as well. I told him he had a phone call -- and that he should assure them he hadn't told me anything.

By then, of course, the word was spread to everybody else inside the modern brick and stone structure at 30th Place and Shields that there was a reporter out front.

After that, most of them either slipped out the side door to get to the ONIAC members only parking lot surrounded by one of those black wrought iron fences favored by the mayor -- who after all grew up just down this very street -- or they marched past me without so much as a sideways glance as I tried to talk to them.

The reaction to my presence was only slightly different for those entering the club. They at least paused to hear me out before scurrying off.

"I no speak English. I no speak English," said one, not too convincingly.

It reminded me a little of the way defendants flee the Dirksen Federal Building, which was unfortunate, because I considered the Old Neighborhood Italian-American Club a good place to look for the opinion of older Italians, not older mobsters, and I do not consider one to be synonymous with the other. But the club also played a cameo role in the trial. Its founder was said to be Angelo "The Hook" LaPietra, the onetime boss of the mob's 26th Street crew. Defendant Frank Calabrese Sr., a LaPietra lieutenant, was a club member. The current club president, Dominic "Captain D" DiFazio, was a prosecution witness who testified about being the go-between for extortion payments to Calabrese from the owner of Connie's Pizza.

This gave me time to contemplate the significance of the silent treatment, which obviously hadn't come as a complete surprise. Whether you call this Bridgeport or Armour Square, this is not a neighborhood known to be welcoming to outsiders. It's also an area where there historically has been a nexus between the mob and Chicago politics. And what struck me is that, as important and valuable as this prosecution was, it doesn't really change the fundamentals. This is still a town where in certain places they know you don't talk about certain people because they still have power and influence.

A young man across the street in a city General Services Department T-shirt was walking a basset hound puppy. Between the puppy, his job and working on a double major at DePaul, he said he didn't have time to think -- about the mob trial or anything else. But he said, "It's everywhere."

He wouldn't give his name, but said the dog's name was Dolce.

"That's sweet in Italian," he explained.

Finally, a guy arrived who was happy to talk. I told him about the verdicts.

"That's life," he said, mentioning that he knew Frank "The German" Schweihs, one of the original co-defendants.

"What disappointed me is that they were hurting legitimate people, their own people, Italians," he said of the accused.

Just then, the door opened and the big guy stuck out his head again.

"Larry!" he shouted. "You got a phone call."

Dolce.

Thanks to Mark Brown

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