Tragic (38 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Well, is it possible that my client saw that the man you hired already had his gun ready to fire and was trying to stop Mr. Carlotta from endangering them all by engaging in a shootout?”

“Like I previously stated, anything may be possible.”

“And in regard to your testimony in which you claim Mr. Carlotta said, ‘You son of a bitch,’ as he was drawing his gun, isn’t it a possibility that he was speaking to the robber?”

“No. He was looking at Charlie.”

Kowalski’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You’re sure about that? Let me ask you something, Mr. Corcione, were you looking at the gunman or at Vince Carlotta when he allegedly said, ‘You son of a bitch!’ ”

“I was looking at the robber. But I saw Vince turn to Vitteli when he said that.”

Kowalski walked along the jury rail, looking at each juror as he
then asked, “The truth is, this all happened quickly didn’t it? The killers you hired jumped out of the alley pretending this was a robbery, Vince tried to pull a gun while saying ‘You son of a bitch,’ and then Bebnev shot him. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, it happened quickly.”

“And you didn’t have time to look from these hired killers to Vince to see who he was calling a son of a bitch. Nor did you know what was going through Charlie Vitteli’s mind, IF—and that’s a big if—he indeed tried to stop Vince from getting in a shootout, or who he was talking to IF he shouted, ‘Shoot him.’ ”

“That’s not true,” Corcione replied. “Charlie Vitteli wanted Vince Carlotta to die, and that’s what was going through his mind.”

And the challenger comes off the ropes to land a counterpunch,
Karp thought without showing the smile he felt. Although he’d expected this attack from Kowalski, and had warned Corcione during trial prep it would come, taken by itself, the defense attorney was landing some shots but hadn’t expected Corcione’s response this time.

Kowalski’s face revealed that he knew he’d stepped into the blow, but he quickly recovered. “Mr. Corcione, you were asked some questions regarding the union magazine, the
Dock,
as well as about a page from an edition of the magazine with a photograph depicting Joey Barros, my client, Vince Carlotta, and you. Is this magazine available in the main office of the North American Brotherhood of Stevedores by the Hudson River docks?”

“Yes.”

“And is it likely that, as the editor in chief, Charles Vitteli would come into contact with one or more copies of each edition?”

“Yes.”

“You also testified that you were in my client’s office when he wrote on a photograph from the magazine. Did anyone else see this?”

“Joey Barros.”

“And Joey Barros is dead.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Corcione, the jury has now heard that there may be other explanations or possibilities in regard to this tragedy,” Kowalski said and paused as he now looked at the jurors. “Isn’t another possibility that the reason you and Joey Barros met with a Russian gangster and hired Alexei Bebnev to murder Vince Carlotta was because he had discovered your theft of union money and confronted you about it?”

Corcione’s jaw dropped. “No! That’s not true!”

“Isn’t that the real reason Mr. Carlotta approached the Department of Labor?”

“Absolutely not,” Corcione cried out. “He complained to the Department of Labor about the election results!”

“Do you know if he brought his concerns about the theft of union money by you and Joey Barros to Charlie Vitteli?”

“That’s a lie!” Corcione retorted.

“What’s the lie, Mr. Corcione?” Kowalski shouted back and as quickly as he could followed up. “Maybe it was that Vince found out about your thievery and you had him murdered? Or that when Charlie Vitteli became suspicious four months ago and went to the Department of Labor himself, you decided that your only way out was to point the finger at my client, knowing about the bad blood between him and the district attorney?”

“OBJECTION!” Karp thundered. “Once again, defense counsel with absolutely no evidence is falsely accusing the prosecution of misconduct. I demand that if he has any evidence of his alleged theories that he put it on the record now!”

“You’re the one who put an admitted thief, liar, and murderer on the stand, Mr. Karp!” Kowalski shouted back. “Is that how you get at the truth?”

Judge See banged his gavel. “Mr. Kowalski, to quote a memorable moment in presidential debate history, and much to my bewilderment, ‘There you go again.’ How many times must I admonish you about making bold assertions regarding defense theories of
the case for which you offer no evidence. If you have any facts to support your hypotheses, I want to hear an offer of proof now! If you’re not able to satisfy an offer of proof, then save your possibilities for summation and do not make reference to them again. Is that clear, counselor?”

“Very well, Your Honor, I’ll save it for the defense case,” Kowalski replied. He then approached the witness stand again, appearing ill at ease. “Mr. Corcione, you testified that you went to the district attorney with your story of your own free will.”

“That’s correct.”

“And though it’s kind of nebulous, this has something to do with your conscience bothering you?”

“Yes. I couldn’t live with it anymore.”

“But you managed to live with it up until the very day that Frank DiMarzo also decided he couldn’t live with his conscience anymore and confessed.”

“I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“I know, Mr. Corcione, it was all just a big coincidence that both of you had an attack of conscience at the same time, miles apart, one of you in prison and the other living in the lap of luxury with his boyfriend,” Kowalski said, every word dripping with sarcasm. “But it’s a hell of a coincidence, isn’t it, Mr. Corcione?”

“That,” Corcione agreed, “or karma.”

A
S
K
OWALSKI TURNED ON HIS
heel and stalked back to the defense table, Karp sat tapping a pencil on his yellow legal pad, contemplating the notes he’d just taken. In his long career as a prosecutor, Karp could not remember a case that hinged more on the consciences of the perpetrators bringing them to the witness stand rather than self-serving attempts to get deals or mitigate their own guilt by blaming others. In a world in which words like “conscience” and “values” were tossed around like footballs whenever politically expedient or financially advantageous, he knew jurors might view such motives with suspicion.

Syd Kowalski had done his best to play on those suspicions. The irony was that even with DiMarzo’s confession, Karp wouldn’t have had the evidence he felt necessary to charge Vitteli with Carlotta’s murder. If not for Corcione’s conscience—and his testimony tying all the pieces together, including DiMarzo’s upcoming testimony—they would not have been in court that day.

However, Karp had planned for such a ploy by the defense and devised a strategy to counter it. During his direct examination, he’d purposely avoided going much into the reasons Corcione had come forward so that it would have greater impact now when he rose from his seat for redirect. With that in mind, he wasn’t going
to address Kowalski’s ludicrous suggestions about a conspiracy to “get” Charlie Vitteli. To do so would have only given them more credence than they deserved; by ignoring them, he dismissed their impact.

Instead, he would clear up any potential questions raised by Kowalski during summations at the end of the trial when he and the defense counsel would present their arguments as to what the evidence demonstrated and why the defendant was or wasn’t guilty as charged. But now, he would concentrate on why Corcione, a young man who might well have gotten away with murder and the theft of millions of dollars, was willing to go to prison for his crimes.

Walking over to stand near one end of the jury box and looking past the jurors at the witness stand on the other end, he began. “Mr. Corcione, you’ve testified as to why you began stealing money from the union, and then why you agreed to help Charlie Vitteli when he demanded that you include him in the scheme to steal millions more. You’ve told us that you were afraid of going to prison, concerned that Charlie Vitteli would tell your father that you were gay and you’d lose his love and respect, and also that it would destroy your relationship with your boyfriend. You also testified that when it appeared that Vince Carlotta might topple this house of cards you’d built with Vitteli and Barros, you agreed with the defendant’s plan to silence him forever. Is that a fair and accurate representation of what you’ve testified to so far?”

“Yes,” Corcione responded with his head down, still feeling the effects of Kowalski’s attack.

“So we know why you covered up your crimes,” Karp said as he moved along the jury rail, “but defense counsel has called into question your motives for taking the stand. So what we haven’t heard much about from you is why, in your own words, you decided to confess. You said you couldn’t live with the guilt; would you now tell us what you meant by that?”

Slowly, Corcione raised his head to look at Karp, then set his
jaw and turned slightly to face the jurors. “I no longer enjoyed being alive,” he said. “The material things I wanted and stole other people’s money to get . . . and then helped kill Vince Carlotta to protect . . . none of them seemed important or worthwhile anymore. I was never hungry; nothing tasted good; great wines were just bitter. I would walk on some tropical beach and it was as if I couldn’t feel the sun’s warmth. Or enjoy the company of my friends. Or appreciate good music. I would lose my temper over the smallest things. . . . I was losing myself.”

Corcione paused to wipe away tears that had begun rolling down his face. But his voice was strong and clear as he looked back at Karp. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but before I got my MBA, I was an English Lit major,” he said. “I loved it and wish now, as I did then, that I could have just been a professor or even high school teacher. Anyway, there’s a line from
Macbeth
after he’s killed the king in which he says, ‘I have murdered sleep.’ I can’t tell you the number of nights after Vince’s death when that line ran through my head as I lay awake. But I murdered more than sleep. I murdered everything that makes life worth living.” He looked out at the gallery. “Most of all I murdered love. . . . If it wasn’t for Greg, the one bright spot that remained in my life . . . I would have ended it all. But even that may be a lie, because I’m probably too much of a coward to take my own life.”

Glancing at the jurors, many of whom were also teary-eyed, Karp hammered home his last few points. “Are you guilty of acting in concert to murder Vince Carlotta in order to cover up the theft of about forty-seven million dollars belonging to the North American Brotherhood of Stevedores?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Have you already pled guilty to manslaughter in the first degree?”

Corcione nodded, then remembered that he had to speak. “Yes. I did plead guilty.”

“And what do you expect will happen after you plead guilty to manslaughter.”

“I will be sentenced to prison,” Corcione replied, “for a very long time.”

“So those things you feared would happen if Vince Carlotta had exposed your crimes while scheming with Joey Barros and the defendant will come to pass anyway?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll lose your freedom and be imprisoned.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll lose all the things you’ve gained through theft . . . the loft apartment, the car, the vacations, the theater tickets and expensive dinners?”

“Yes.”

Karp looked out into the gallery, where Greg Lusk sat with his face in his hands and shoulders shaking. “And any hope at a normal relationship with the man you love?”

“Yes, oh God, yes,” Corcione sobbed and also buried his face in his hands.

Karp waited for Corcione to regain his composure. “Mr. Corcione, you’ve now told us what you will lose,” he said at last. “What, if anything, do you hope to gain?”

Corcione sat quietly for a moment longer. Then, with the slightest smile coming to his lips as he looked past the jurors to his boyfriend, he answered. “My self-respect . . . maybe my soul.”

Karp nodded and turned to Judge See. “No further questions.”

The judge cleared his throat and asked Kowalski if he had any follow-up questions for recross, but the defense attorney just scowled and shook his head. “Very well,” the judge said. “I believe we’ll take our lunch break now. We’ll resume at one.” He looked at Corcione and, not unkindly, said, “You are dismissed.”

The courtroom was silent as Jackie Corcione stepped down from the witness stand. As he approached the space between the defense and prosecution tables, he slowed and looked at Vitteli.
Their eyes locked for a moment before Vitteli broke off and stared straight ahead. Corcione shrugged and walked on.

After lunch, Karp followed up on Corcione’s appearance with less dramatic but nevertheless important testimony, filling in the puzzle with other pieces necessary to form the big picture. But Kowalski fought him every step of the way, the two attorneys exchanging shots like heavyweight prizefighters.

It started again when Gnat Miller was called to the stand to recount an abridged version of his testimony from the trial of Bebnev and DiMarzo. This time the emphasis wasn’t on proving that the three killers had been in New Rochelle and Hell’s Kitchen but to lay the groundwork for DiMarzo’s upcoming testimony, especially Miller’s recollection of the magazine photograph he’d briefly seen his friend looking at when the Carlotta family arrived at their home in New Rochelle.

Kowalski had, of course, attacked Miller’s credibility. Taking a page from Clooney’s cross-examination in the previous trial, he’d noted Miller’s criminal history. He’d also noted that Miller would be up for parole in eight years, four months, and questioned if his testimony now was part of an effort to manipulate a parole board later.

Anticipating the defense attack on Miller’s motivations, Karp had focused the jury’s attention on what his confession and testimony had cost him. And with that he’d been helped by something Miller had told him that morning before the trial.