Surviving the Mob - Dennis Griffin [76]
18
Decision Time
Andrew had been in the Brooklyn House of Detention for a couple of days when he had visitors. Michael Callahan and another lawman wanted to see him. He turned down the visit. It wasn’t that he’d changed his mind about possible cooperation. Rather, he thought the contact was too out in the open. Andrew didn’t trust the guards at the facility and he knew how it would sound if the word got out that he was meeting with lawmen without an attorney present. And he’d already rejected the services of Joe Muri.
“I was initially held for only the parole violation,” Andrew explains. “When Muri showed up at my arraignment, I told him there was nothing he could do for me. I wasn’t going to get bail and had no need for a lawyer at that time. And when I did need one, I’d use Joseph Corozzo. That decision caused a lot of talk in organized-crime circles, because they couldn’t figure out just what I was up to.
“A couple of mornings later, a correction officer woke me up around four-thirty and said I had to get ready for court. I told him I didn’t have any court scheduled, that I was being held on a parole violation. He insisted. So I got dressed and they moved me to the holding pens where inmates waited for transportation to court or other appearances. Names were called out and guys left. It was now past court hours and I was the only one left in the cell. I complained to a correction officer that they’d just rousted me to bust my balls. There was no court for me.
“The officer said, ‘Oh no. You’re somethin’ special. The marshals are comin’ for you.’ That’s when I knew additional charges were about to be filed against me. They took me to Cadman Plaza in Brooklyn. I was met there by Michael Callahan, Vince Girard, and a couple of other guys. I was arrested, but only on a federal weapons charge at that time. That was because the serial number on the machine gun they found in my apartment had been filed off, making it a federal charge. After processing me, they wanted to talk.
“My choices were to tell them I didn’t want to talk, would only speak with them if I had my lawyer with me, or talk with them right then. My mother had found a non-Mob lawyer for me and I already indicated to him that I was thinking about becoming a government witness. So I let it be known to them that I was open to a cooperation deal. I told them, though, that I was concerned about several things. I said that I wanted to get my lawyer involved and maybe something could be worked out. I said that any agreement we reached would have to include me doing any time as a federal prisoner.
“Because I was now in the federal system, I figured I’d be going to MDC [Metropolitan Detention Center] in Brooklyn where Nicky and Lenny were being held. But they had issued a separation order that we couldn’t be housed in the same facility. In addition, I learned later that another guy housed at MDC, Timothy Lynskey, had been a friend of Robert Arena’s and thought I was responsible for Robert’s murder. For those reasons, I was sent to MCC [Metropolitan Correction Center] in Manhattan instead.
“When I arrived at MCC, I was assigned to the eleventh floor. Almost immediately, I was approached by Danny Marino, a capo in the Gambino family. A lot of other organized-crime guys were there from the various families. They treated me well, but I was in a very uncomfortable position. Although I was still on the fence, if they knew what I was thinking about doing, my treatment would have changed real quick.
“Meanwhile, the federal prosecutor’s office was in contact with my lawyer. They told him they understood my situation and that I’d definitely been marked for death. That became crystal clear when I was arraigned before a female federal magistrate. When the subject came up, she said she’d consider setting bail. The prosecutor told the judge there was credible information that not only was the Gambino family plotting my murder, but other organized-crime families as well. If I went back