Brutal_ The Untold Story of My Life Inside Whitey Bulger's Irish Mob - Kevin Weeks [128]
That night, I was looking out my cell window at the TV in the common area and all of a sudden I saw my picture on the news. They showed scenes of the agents recovering the bodies. I went and sat down on my bunk and said to myself, “What the fuck have I done?”
About a half-hour later, the guards took me out of my cell to the pay phone. Tom Duffy from the state police was on the phone. “Kevin?” he said.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You hit the ball out of the park,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We went down with the backhoe to exactly where you said the bodies would be,” he told me. “And that’s exactly where they were. Now we believe you. Now we can talk.”
The next day when the door opened and I came out of my cell, not one person said a word to me except, “Hey, how you doing?” and they had all seen it on TV. The night before I’d figured I was going to have a problem when I came out of my cell because it was all over the news that I was cooperating, but it turned out that there was no problem at all.
Over the course of time, now that my credibility had been established, agents and investigators from all over the country kept calling me in and interviewing me. I met with agents from the Joint Task Force, Violent Fugitive Task Force, DEA, state police, IRS, and Justice Department, along with investigators from Oklahoma and Dade County, Florida. Initially they didn’t want the FBI included because of corruption considerations, but when the Justice Department got involved, they brought in FBI agents, not from Boston, but from out of state. Now that they had the bodies, the agents and investigators wanted to know how they got killed and exactly what crimes I was involved in.
I was kept in Rockingham County Jail in New Hampshire from January 2000 to April 2000. In April, they moved me to Stafford, County, New Hampshire, where I stayed until September 21. On that day, I was moved to Allenwood, Pennsylvania, where I would serve the remainder of my sentence. In the beginning, I was brought to the federal courthouses in Boston and Worcester for interviews, and then returned to my cell in New Hampshire. From January 2000 until July of that year, I was taken down at least once a month to be interviewed. And when I left for Allenwood, I continued to be interviewed, sometimes being brought back to Boston, but most times I had agents coming down there to see me.
The deal I would be offered would be based on whatever information I gave. While my court-appointed lawyer, Dennis Kelly, was there for the initial meeting, he did not accompany me to my interviews. The investigators wanted to know my criminal history. Of course, I had no notes and everything I had done was in my head. The agents were always professional, writing down everything I said. People on the street might have thought I ratted about anything and everything, but the focus was on Jimmy and Stevie and their connections in law enforcement. All I talked about were the crimes I was involved in. The police asked me about a lot of other murders and I’d say they might have occurred, but I wasn’t there. I didn’t hurt anyone who was still out on the street. All I could tell the agents was what I, not anyone else, was involved in.
Dan Doherty from the DEA and Steve Johnson from the Massachusetts State Police were the agents in charge of me the whole time. Always respectful, professional, and businesslike, they never lied about the sentencing and never made any promises or anything. Although I did not know what was ultimately going to happen, we talked about crimes and things they had heard. Most often they had heard different stories, but I said, “No, this is what happened. I’m not going to lie or embellish.”
They listened and the only comment they made to me was, “Kevin, it is what it is.”
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