Surviving the Mob - Dennis Griffin [104]
“With all those bad things I did, there was one decision I made that I know was right. When I got the green light to kill my brother-in-law, when I held the power of life and death over him, I let him live. My niece has a father and that’s the way it should be. So that was one choice that I’ll never regret making.
“That aside, I’m alive and free. So what am I complaining about, you ask? First, I’m not complaining. I’m stating facts. And having my life and freedom carries costs that can’t be ignored. I was born Andrew DiDonato and he no longer exists. I haven’t seen my son or family in years and don’t know if or when I’ll see them again. Yes, I’m alive. But there’s a big hole inside of me.
“I’m alive because I was lucky—very lucky. I was shot at a few times by guys with bad aims. And I got into Witness Protection before my former colleagues could get me. If not for that good fortune—or divine intervention—we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“And I owe my freedom to luck or fate too. I shot several people, but none of them died. I shot Ralph Burzo in the head and the bullet struck a bone and splintered. When I was going to finish him off, Sandra Raiola was there staring at me, so I couldn’t. Somebody was watching over Burzo or me. Either way, it turned out to be a blessing.
“When Mike Yannotti failed to kill Sammy Karkis, I was pissed off. But Nicky actually did me a favor by stopping the hit. If it had gone through, there’s a good chance I could have been charged with conspiracy to commit murder and I might still be locked up. And by the time I was in a position to kill Sammy myself, other circumstances intervened and I didn’t. I know that he has a young daughter today and I feel good about that.
“When I look back at it, I realize how many times I came close to becoming a murderer. And each time a matter of inches—or with Burzo a fraction of an inch—resulted in my victim’s wounds being non-fatal.
“And it wasn’t just the shootings. In 1984 when we blew up the cars in the garage of that house Vic Amuso’s nephew was staying in, nobody inside got killed. What about the night I was driving the Mercedes shell and being chased by the cops? I ran every traffic light and made it through all those intersections doing over a hundred miles an hour and nobody died or even got hurt. But if they had—especially some innocent motorists—I’d have been responsible.
“So yeah, I was damn lucky. I know it and I thank God for it every day.
“If you think joining the Mob means you’re entering a life of honor, you’d better think again. It ain’t like what you might see on television or in the movies. That’s right, in today’s Mob, that old saying about honor among thieves is a lot of bullshit, trust me.
“Let’s take the leadership. When I was a kid, I thought the bosses walked on water. They were legends in the neighborhood. But when I was in prison, several of them were in there with me. I even shared a cell with a couple. I’m telling you straight that most of the Mob icons I met behind bars didn’t match their street reputations. When it came to winning their criminal cases, they were willing to throw anybody and everybody under the bus to beat the rap. Real standup guys.
“It’s very important that you understand this. In today’s Mob, the money and loyalty go from the bottom up. They don’t come back down to the guys on the street. If you get pinched and have to do some time, don’t count on your crime family to take care of your real family.
“Look what they did to Fat Sal. He was loyal and one hell of an earner. They forgot about him for two years while he was locked up. And then when they were worried about Sal flipping, they sent him fifty fuckin’ bucks for his commissary! He kicked a lot of money up to these guys and that’s how they thanked him. That shows the definition of loyalty from the bosses’ perspective.
“So if you take the organized-crime