Animal (44 page)

Peter Limone and Joe Salvati each filed countless commutation petitions through various lawyers in hopes of reducing their life sentences. Over time, Salvati developed legions of supporters, including Jack Zalkind, the prosecutor in the Deegan trial, who would not go so far as to admit that he had made a mistake but instead wrote the parole board that Salvati’s involvement in the Deegan murder was minimal. Salvati’s pillar of strength had always been his wife, Marie. She had been serving a sentence of her own—on the outside. Instead of receiving support from her North End neighbors, she was ostracized by many of her so-called friends. Her children were constantly tormented at school. Marie Salvati had tried to give her children as normal a life as possible, and made sure that they visited their father regularly in prison. Joe would dispense his fatherly advice to his children during the visits but could not go home with them. Marie would have to play the role of mother and father when the family returned to the North End. She was a comfort to her children, but there was no comfort for her, and she spent most nights crying in the darkness of her lonely bedroom.

The Massachusetts Parole Board finally approved Salvati’s clemency petition and sent it to Republican governor William Weld for his recommendation in 1991. Weld sat on the case for several months before rejecting the order, based on what he called “the seriousness of the crimes and the length of (Salvati’s) criminal record.” Unlike the other defendants in the case, Salvati had barely any criminal record to speak of before getting thrown into the Deegan case.

In 1993 Salvati’s attorney, Vincent Garo, joined forces with Dan Rea, an investigative reporter at
WBZ-TV
in Boston, and together they worked on a series of explosive stories that spoke to Salvati’s innocence. Governor Weld commuted Salvati’s sentence in 1997 but claimed that public pressure applied by Rea, Garo, and Grieco’s attorney, John Cavicchi, had nothing to do with his decision.

Peter Limone would be subjected to the same legal circus as Salvati. His clemency requests had been shot down several times, in part because he was still a high-ranking member of
La Cosa Nostra
. In January 2001, a judge ordered Limone’s release from prison because so-called new evidence had cast doubt on Joe Barboza’s credibility. Peter Limone did not receive a commutation, however.

Five months later, Congress began to shed light on decades of darkness surrounding the relationship between the
FBI
and the mob. The House Committee on Government Reform launched a sweeping investigation into the government’s use of informants. When he learned about the probe, former
FBI
special agent Dennis Condon groused whether Congress had something better to do in light of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Committee chairman Dan Burton, a Republican from Indiana, began a series of high-profile hearings on Capitol Hill, where once again Joe Barboza, or the ghost of Joe Barboza, took center stage. His victim, Joe Salvati, choked back tears as he recounted his long ordeal.

“The government stole thirty years of my life. My life as a husband and father came to a tumbling halt,” Salvati said. “In order to clear my name, it has been a long and frustrating battle. Yet, through all the heartbreak … my wife and I remained very much in love. Prison may have separated us physically, but our love has always kept us together mentally and emotionally. Our children have always been foremost in our minds. We tried our best to raise them in a loving and caring atmosphere even though we were separated by prison walls. More than once my heart was broken because I was unable to be with my family at very important times.”
²¹⁴

Salvati’s heartbreaking story echoed through the committee room. The congressional leaders were profoundly shocked at the treatment of Salvati and his family, and they were demanding answers to past secrets. One of the primary keepers of those secrets was H. Paul Rico. Rico, now seventy-six years old and ailing, had kept in close contact with the
FBI
over the years. In fact, after his retirement he was lured back to the bureau for a special assignment. The feds had asked Rico to play the role of a gangster in a bribery sting of federal judge and future Florida congressman Alcee Hastings. Rico was later commended for his performance, but it was a role he knew all too well. When it came time to testify before the committee, the once suave special agent had run out of convincing lines of dialogue. He looked haggard as he walked into the committee chamber with deep bags under each eye and a sea of liver spots masking his once handsome and confident face. The former agent still had a flair for fashion, however, as he walked past the media photographers in a smart gray suit, dark blue shirt, and yellow tie. Clearly taken by Salvati’s testimony the previous day, Ohio representative Steve LaTourette asked Rico why
the
FBI
was willing to sacrifice thirty-three years of Salvati’s life to protect a man nicknamed the Animal.

“I don’t think the
FBI
was interested in saving Joe Barboza from anything,” Rico countered. “Joe Barboza was an instrument that you could use … we didn’t think he was a knight in shining armor.”
²¹⁵

Connecticut congressman Chris Shays took the microphone and peppered Rico about the fact that the
FBI
was privy to information in the Deegan murder that contradicted Barboza’s testimony. The former special agent responded to the line of questioning by playing dumb. He told the committee that it had never occurred to him to interview Deegan’s real killer, Jimmy Flemmi, or anyone else besides Barboza. The panel refused to buy Rico’s story.

“Do you have any remorse?” asked Shays.

“Remorse for what?”

“For the fact that you played a role in this.”

“I believe the role I played in this was the role I should have played,” Rico responded. He then went on to describe the method by which the
FBI
agents supplied witnesses for local law enforcement, to handle and prosecute from there.

“So you don’t really care much and you don’t really have any remorse. Is that true?”

Rico rolled his eyes and muttered, “Would you like tears or something?”

“Pardon me?” Shays shouted into the microphone.

“What do you want, tears?” Rico responded loudly.

The committee room grew silent. All eyes remained on the retired agent. No further words needed. The true terror of the mad experiment developed by Bobby Kennedy and J. Edgar Hoover and conducted by Rico and others had been summed up in five simple words. Testimony did continue, as no one appeared willing to give Paul Rico the final say. Instead, committee members continued to extract their pound of flesh from Rico until there was little left on his brittle bones.

“It’s a fascinating day for me, Mr. Rico. I think the thing I’m most surprised about is that it’s clear to me that the
FBI
became as corrupt as the people they went after,” said Congressman Shays. “It’s clear to me that you have the same insensitivity that I would imagine in someone who is a hard and fast criminal. Cold as can be.”

Paul Rico left the hearing bruised but not yet defeated. That would come later in 2004, when he was indicted for the 1981 murder of Roger Wheeler, his former boss at World Jai Alai. Rico would never stand trial for the crime. He died alone in a Tulsa, Oklahoma, hospital with armed police officers waiting outside his door. “It’s not the closure desired or expected by law enforcement,” said Tulsa County district attorney Timothy Harris. “But life holds different turns.”
²¹⁶

Joe Salvati, Peter Limone, and relatives of the other falsely convicted men sued the U.S. Justice Department and were awarded a judgment of $101.7 million, the largest payout of its kind in American history. U.S. District Court Judge Nancy Gertner ruled that secret
FBI
documents had shown that the bureau was responsible for framing four innocent men of murder. The bulk of those documents consisted of memos which suggested that agents and officials, including J. Edgar Hoover, knew that their star witness, Joe “the Animal” Barboza, lied in his testimony. The government immediately appealed the verdict, but the decision was upheld in August 2009 by the U.S. First Circuit Court of Appeals. “The damage awards give us pause,” wrote Senior Judge Bruce M. Selya. “The awards though high are not grossly disproportionate to the harm sustained as to either shock our collective conscience or raise a specter of a miscarriage of justice.”

In 2010, the federal government decided to give up its fight for good and announced that it would not appeal the landmark verdict yet again. Salvati, Limone, and the relatives of Henry Tameleo and Louis Grieco received checks from the government for approximately $33 million, which included $2 million in interest accumulated while the case was on appeal.

Julianne Balliro was a sixth grader when her father, Joe Balliro, saw his client Henry Tameleo convicted of murder and sentenced to die in the electric chair. The younger Balliro is now an attorney representing members of the Deegan Four. “It’s a good day for civil rights,” she proclaimed after the ruling. “I hope that the
FBI
will be able to put this sordid chapter in their history behind them and redeem themselves to be the institution that they once were.”
²¹⁷

WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

GENNARO
“
JERRY
”
ANGIULO

Died in 2009 at the age of ninety and given a full Mafia boss funeral, complete with nearly two hundred floral arrangements. Angiulo was also given a full U.S. Navy honor guard for his service in the Pacific during World War II. “He is probably the last very significant Mafia boss in Boston’s history,” said retired State Police colonel Thomas J. Foley. “In these times you don’t have anybody who exerts the control, the force, or even maintains the discipline like he had with his organization during his day.”*

LARRY BAIONE
(
AKA ILARIO ZANNINO
)

Died in 1996 of natural causes while imprisoned for loansharking and illegal gambling.

JAMES
“
WHITEY
”
BULGER

Formerly one of America’s Most Wanted fugitives, Bulger was captured in 2011 and is now imprisoned on charges that he committed at least nineteen murders.

DENNIS CONDON

Died in 1999 at age eighty-five after serving as Massachusetts state police commissioner and undersecretary of public safety for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

JOHN CONNOLLY

Currently serving a life sentence for second-degree murder in Florida for the death of Boston businessman John Callahan.

PATSY FABIANO

Murdered by the Mafia in 1976 shortly after the hit on Joe Barboza.

NICKY FEMIA

Shot and killed during attempted robbery of an auto body shop in 1983.

JOHN FITZGERALD

Relocated by federal government to South Dakota, where he became a circuit court judge. Died during heart surgery in 2001.

STEVIE
“
THE RIFLEMAN
”
FLEMMI

Currently serving a life sentence for murder at an undisclosed location.

* “Mob Boss Gennaro ‘Jerry’ Angiulo Dies at 90,” by Shelley Murphy,
Boston Globe
, August 30, 2009.

VINCENT
“
JIMMY THE BEAR
”
FLEMMI

Alleged to have murdered self-confessed Boston Strangler Albert DeSalvo behind bars in 1973 to stop him from recanting his confession. Died in prison of drug overdose in 1979.

EDWARD
“
TEDDY
”
HARRINGTON

Currently serving as a federal judge in Massachusetts.

PETER LIMONE

Arrested in 2008 on charges of extortion, gambling, and loansharking and still believed to be a high-ranking member of
La Cosa Nostra
.

GEORGE MCLAUGHLIN

Imprisoned since 1964 and still serving a life sentence in Massachusetts.

JOHN PARTINGTON

After leaving the U.S. Marshals Service in 1980, Partington served as police chief in his hometown of Cumberland, Rhode Island, and later served fifteen years as commissioner of public safety in Providence, RI. He died in 2006 from a viral infection following surgery. He was seventy-seven years old.

JOSEPH J. R. RUSSO

Died in federal prison of throat cancer in 1998 at the age of sixty-seven.

“
CADILLAC FRANK
”
SALEMME

Released from federal prison in 2009 and living in Massachusetts.