Surviving the Mob - Dennis Griffin [64]
17
Fugitive
So in early 1996, 31-year-old Andrew DiDonato was on the lam, a fugitive from justice for the second time in his life. And the law wasn’t all he had to worry about. Factions of the Lucchese and Colombo families wouldn’t have been at all unhappy if he were found dead in the trunk of an abandoned car. And some members of his own crew, including the boss, may have felt the same way.
What was it like being pursued by the law and at the same time not knowing if or when one of your own might put a couple in your head? “Take your most stressful day and multiply it by ten thousand. And then by ten thousand more. That’s what it’s like being hunted and not knowing who you can trust—and that your first misstep will probably be your last.”
Staying free and keeping alive cost money, lots of it. Andrew began preparing for living as a fugitive as soon as he received the bad news from his lawyer, Jo Jo Corozzo.
“When I hung up the phone from Jo Jo, I reached out to Tommy Dono and Benny Geritano and set up a meet. When we got together, they said the bank job had been successful. They gave me my end of the score and the rental car, so I could return it. I told them about the parole deal and that I didn’t know what the hell was goin’ on. They told me to lie low until I could find out what kind of trouble I was in. Benny said I’d be able to contact him through his grandmother.
“Next I stopped at Fat Sal’s [Salvatore “Fat Sal” Mangiavillano] pizza joint near Riker’s Island. Fat Sal was a part of our bank crew that later became known as the ‘Night Drop Crew.’ He was an electronics guy and a wizard at disabling alarms. He and I both received full ends of the bank score even though neither of us were physically there. I told him about my problem and that I’d need to make some good scores in order to survive. He said not to worry about it, that we’d keep busy.”
Andrew initially believed he’d be able to generate enough money to cover the additional expenses he’d incur while being on the run. These included hotel and apartment rents, eating most meals out, and compensating people who helped him with temporary lodging or in other ways. But about two weeks later, an incident took place that struck very close to home and caused him to take a second look at the effect living the life was having on the person who loved him the most.
“My girlfriend Regina’s father was with the Genovese family and was incarcerated in a medium-security federal prison at the time. He knew that I was dating his daughter and I’d previously gotten his approval to marry her. One day in early April, I was visiting one of my sisters when Regina called. She said that one of her father’s friends, a guy named Charlie, had contacted her. He told her he needed to meet with me to deliver a message from her dad. Even though I was trying to avoid exposing myself to danger unnecessarily, out of respect for her father I said okay. But in my world, a person’s life was often taken by someone he trusted, someone he thought was his friend. With that in mind, I said the get-together would have to be on my terms. I wouldn’t call Charlie with the time and location of the meeting until the last possible minute. If he had bad intentions, I wasn’t going to give him enough advance notice to put together a plan.
“A few days later I was again at my sister’s place and my mother was with me. I called Charlie and told him to meet me right away on Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn. This is a busy six-lane street with lots of vehicle and pedestrian traffic. There were benches on either side of the road where people could sit, relax, and make small talk. I hung up the phone and was on my way.
“Charlie showed up alone and we sat on one of the benches and talked. He told me that word had reached Regina’s father in prison that I was in trouble with factions of the Colombo and Lucchese families. No one knew how far things might escalate. There was a