Brutal_ The Untold Story of My Life Inside Whitey Bulger's Irish Mob - Kevin Weeks [60]
It didn’t take long for Jimmy to realize that the plan to send McIntyre away or to tell him what to say to the grand jury was not going to work. He understood that eventually McIntyre would talk again. I think it was already predetermined by Jimmy that he was going to kill him. But the conversation lasted a few hours, with no yelling and Jimmy talking to McIntyre in a nice calm manner, getting all the information he needed as McIntyre replied in an equally calm manner.
Around five, Jimmy told me to leave and get something to eat, so I went over to my in-laws’ house and ate there. About an hour later, he beeped me and I came back to the house. McIntyre was still shackled to the chair in the kitchen. Ten minutes later, Jimmy told McIntyre, “Get up out of the chair. We’re going downstairs now.” Without a word, McIntyre stood up, and made it down the stairs with his chains intact, Jimmy and Stevie right behind him and me following the three of them.
In the basement, Jimmy and Stevie sat him back in a chair, but this time Jimmy placed a rope around his neck. Although Jimmy tried hard to strangle him, the rope was too thick to cut off his air supply and merely made him gag and throw up. Finally, after a few minutes of this, Jimmy took the rope off McIntyre’s throat and asked, “Would you like one in the head?”
The guy sat up straight and answered, “Yes, please.” You had to give McIntyre credit. Like Bucky, he had shown tremendous bravery. He knew he was going to die and somehow he came to terms with it. He wasn’t begging for his life. He was just asking politely to get shot in the head. The guy went out like a man, with no pleading or crying.
So Jimmy shot him in the back of the head with a .22-caliber rifle, cut down to a pistol grip with a silencer on it, and the bullet exited underneath his chin. When McIntyre fell to the floor, Stevie went over, propped him up, put his head on McIntyre’s chest, and reported he was still alive. Stevie grabbed him by his hair and shoulder and Jimmy put five or six more into his face. Then Jimmy turned to Stevie and said, “Well, he’s dead now,” and that was it.
When Jimmy went upstairs to take a nap on the couch in the parlor, Stevie and I cleaned everything up. Unlike with Bucky, whose brains and skull were everywhere, there hadn’t been a lot of bleeding with McIntyre. But once again, we got out the basin and filled it with liquid soap and cold water and took care of the remains. After we’d cleaned up the floor, Stevie stripped McIntyre down so the decomposition would take place faster and began using the channel-lock pliers to remove his teeth. I was digging the hole for the grave when Stevie called me over and showed me a piece of McIntyre’s tongue that he’d accidentally caught in the pliers. “Look at this,” he told me. “He won’t be using this no more.” I kind of chuckled, turned away, and returned to the hole I was digging.
A few minutes later, Stevie told me he was thinking of doing an autopsy on the body. Genuinely curious about what was inside, he wanted to cut open the body and check it out. But he changed his mind and helped me put the body in the hole. When I told Jimmy about Stevie’s desire to do an autopsy, he said, “Let’s just get him buried and get out of here.” But then he started laughing and said, “See, I told you Dr. Mengele was crazy.”
As it turned out, the customs agents never got back the $20,000 they had given to McIntyre to invest in the drug deal in their hopes of setting up a sting operation. Jimmy kept the money and gave Murray and Stevie and me each $5,000. Actually, he exchanged it for another $20,000, just to be safe, before he handed money out to us. A week later, we found out the agents were upset