Brutal_ The Untold Story of My Life Inside Whitey Bulger's Irish Mob - Kevin Weeks [114]
A few months later, in mid-November, Jimmy asked me to come back down to New York. It took some careful arrangements, switching cars and stuff, but I was able to elude the law and take the train down. Again, I met him “at the lions.” He and Cathy looked exactly the same, like two hassle-free tourists in New York. We talked about the case for a while and I showed him my driver’s license and how there was no date of issue on it.
It was a cold November day and we headed out to a restaurant in a nearby hotel. On the way, he stopped to ask a street cop for directions. Cathy stood next to him while he talked to the cop, but I moved to the side. If the cop recognized Jim, I knew I’d have to crack him. I felt a surge of adrenaline that I might have to bang this guy out so Jimmy could take off. But the cop just told us to go down a few blocks and take a left. I knew this was all part of Jimmy’s belief that the best defense is offense. When we were walking away, he said, “The best place to get lost is a big city. People are just walking around thinking about their own problems. You don’t stand out there.” If he wanted to, however, he knew how to disarm people with his personality and mannerisms. Otherwise, he would terrorize them. There just wasn’t too much in the middle of those two sides.
I had known all along, however, that it would not be easy for anyone to capture Jimmy. If he saw them coming, he would take them with him. He wouldn’t hesitate. Even before he went on the run, he’d always say, “Let’s all go to hell together.” And he meant it. I also knew Jimmy wouldn’t go to trial. He would rather plead out to a life sentence than put his family through the embarrassment of a trial. If he had a gun on him, he’d go out in a blaze of glory rather than spend the rest of his life in jail. But I don’t think they’ll ever catch him.
I’d always thought he could end up traveling around Europe. I figured that if he ended up in Germany, there would have to be a new Third Reich. If he took off for Mexico, the entire village would be speaking English. It’s not like he would ever conform to them. I also knew he would be smart enough to avoid putting himself in the position of killing anybody. But then again, if anybody fucked with him, he’d kill him.
Most of that day and evening in New York, however, Jimmy was upbeat, and seemed to treat his life as if that day was just another adventure, one he’d been planning ahead for since the early 1980s. But there was also a strange feeling, something hard to explain, but just a little bit off. I understood that I was the only one he trusted completely. When I look back at everything, I think he had some insight about Stevie, that he had a feeling how Stevie was going to react to everything. And that was why he was acting so different that day.
At the end of our dinner, he seemed more aware of everything around him. His tone was a little more serious, and there wasn’t as much joking as usual. He repeated the phrase he’d used before that a rolling stone gathers no moss, which told me that he knew he was going to be on the move again. I got the feeling then that he was resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t coming back. Up until then, I always believed he thought there was a chance he’d beat the case. However, at that point there was something different going on with him. I didn’t fully understand all the aspects of his case. It would be another six months before it all became clearer. Yet at that moment, at that restaurant in New York, I sensed that he had moved to a new place in his mind. It was over. He’d never return to South Boston.
After dinner, the two of them walked me to Penn Station. The three of us sat in chairs and talked for over an hour as I waited for my train. When they announced my train, I got up. Jimmy walked me over to the gate where the guy took my ticket and we shook hands. He said, “I’ll be in touch.” And that was that.