NARRATOR: Previously on
American Godfathers:
The Five Families...
Thank God that I was born
of Italian birth.
NARRATOR: A new generation
of mobsters rose to power
by breaking the rules.
Joe Colombo didn't escape
from the media.
He welcomed the media.
The problem is,
is that you can't really be
a media celebrity
like Joey Gallo
and sort of
still be in the mafia.
ANTHONY DESTEFANO: Carmine
Galante was a drug dealer.
He was violent.
- [g*nsh*t echoes]
- [crowd clamoring]
NARRATOR: But one by one,
they fell.
REPORTER: Joe Colombo, Sr.
was lying on the ground,
badly wounded.
Shot in the head
and bleeding profusely.
FRANK DIMATTEO: We got a call
maybe 7:30.
And he goes,
"They k*lled Joey."
The passing
of Carmine Galante means
a new struggle for control
at the top
of New York's Five Families.
NARRATOR: With blood
in the streets
and its leadership
in disarray...
[g*nshots popping]
...the families
struggled to survive.
There's no order
in the ranks anymore.
That was kind of the beginning
of the end for the mafia.
NARRATOR: Now, the Five Families
must contend with new laws
designed to destroy them,
as one family confronts
the unthinkable.
It was revealed
that an FBI Agent
had infiltrated
the Bonanno crime family.
REPORTER: This man, known
as Donnie Brasco,
revealed his true name,
Joseph Pistone,
agent of the FBI.
ANTHONY: Pistone had information
about other families.
The feeling is what
other shoe's going to drop?
[theme music plays]
[tense music plays]
NARRATOR: In the summer
of 1981,
Dominick "Sonny Black"
Napolitano,
a captain
in the Bonanno family,
ran The Motion Lounge,
a Bonanno hangout,
that sat on the corner
of Graham Ave and Withers Street
in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
From here, Sonny and his crew
ran a gambling operation,
trafficked stolen goods,
planned their next scores.
In late July,
it was paid a visit
by three FBI Agents.
They informed Sonny Black
that a member of his crew,
an associate
named Donnie Brasco,
a jewel thief
from Miami, FL,
was, in fact,
an undercover agent
named Joe Pistone.
A G-man from Erie, PA.
At first, Sonny Black
didn't believe them.
Because in his mind,
believing them may make it true.
And if it was true,
well, then Sonny Black was
in quite a bit of trouble.
♪
The government says
this is the best
they've ever done
in their fight
to whip into organized crime
from the inside out.
NARRATOR: It was true,
all right.
Pistone would go on
to tell all,
testifying publicly in court
for the first time
in August of 1982.
And the Bonannos
pay the price.
Family boss Rusty Rastelli
was removed from the Commission.
The Bonannos have
always kind of been
the problem children
of the Five Families.
Then the knockout blow
that was delivered
by Pistone's infiltration
of the family.
The family was essentially
being run by Rusty Rastelli
and his main man
was Joseph Massino.
Well, somebody had to
pay for the fact
that Pistone
infiltrated the family.
The main guy who
was in charge of that faction
was Sonny Black Napolitano.
And Massino orchestrated
the assassination
of Sonny Black.
And Sonny Black
was enticed to the house,
pushed down
into the basement.
Before he was k*lled...
he told his assassin,
"If you're gonna do it,
make it good."
[g*nsh*t pops]
[dramatic music plays]
NARRATOR: The m*rder
of Sonny Black Napolitano came
some 50 years after
the Five Families were created.
Fifty years of extortion,
taking over unions,
tax evasion,
gambling operations.
The Five Families
were as powerful and effective
as any criminal organization
in the history
of the United States.
They had retained power
for decades
through sheer force
and secrecy.
And while
they'd been wounded,
they were still feared.
But their world
changed in the '80s.
New York didn't bounce back
from the devastating
fiscal crisis
that started in 1975.
The crack epidemic sent crime
and violence sky-rocketing.
In response, President Reagan
began to promote
"tough on crime"
messaging and policies.
All forms of crime
were to be targeted.
But in New York City,
organized crime,
specifically the Five Families,
were to be
priority number one.
If there's one
single individual...
who's responsible
for finally going after
the American mafia
and the Five Families,
his name is Robert Blakey.
He was the architect
of a law called RICO,
Racketeer-Influenced
Corrupt Organizations Act.
Perhaps the most significant
tool that we were provided
in waging the w*r
on organized crime
was the RICO statute.
And generally, when prosecutors
prosecute criminals,
you can only prosecute one
criminal transaction at a time.
REPORTER: RICO could be
used to prosecute
any individual
or organization,
if certain conditions
were met.
Those charged
had to be engaged
in racketeering activity,
such as m*rder,
kidnapping, extortion,
or mail, wire,
or securities fraud.
What this accomplished was
for the first time,
instead of going
after small fry,
if you were found to be
in any way connected
to an ongoing
criminal organization,
especially if you were
a leader,
you could face
a life in prison.
LEONARD ROLLOCK: People hear
"gangs" and they think,
"Oh, well,
that's organized crime."
It's not what
the RICO was aimed after.
They was aimed after people
that were racketeers.
And a racketeer is somebody
who could set up a scenario
where you find yourself
paying for protection
in some way or another.
If you wanted to convict
somebody of engaging in RICO
or racketeering violation,
you had to prove
that they were involved
in a racketeering enterprise,
such as a mob family.
And in addition, you had to
prove that they were involved
in a pattern
of racketeering activity.
Now the entire enterprise
was looked at as a whole,
and these people
were identified and prosecuted
as arms
of that organization.
It made everybody vulnerable
to whatever the hierarchy
of the organized crime family
was doing.
They could be charged
with many more things
than just
their individual actions.
So rather than just
being able to convict people
and arrest them
for actual individual crimes,
thanks to RICO,
being a gangster itself
was a criminal act.
NARRATOR: The RICO statute
was signed into law
in 1970.
But it was neglected
for the better part
of the next decade.
Federal prosecutors feared
that the untested statute
could be
declared unconstitutional
if used in court.
They were extremely
reluctant to approve
any of the RICO prosecution
until the early 1980s.
If you had the goods
and you put it all together,
it was very easy to convict
people of racketeering
or RICO violations.
So, it was an enormous--
enormously powerful tool
that we had.
NARRATOR: In the 1980s,
an emerging federal prosecutor
would see the promise
and incredible power of RICO,
and he would put it to use
in the fight
against New York City's
criminal underworld.
As the chief
federal prosecutor in his area,
Giuliani comes across
like the Hollywood stereotype
of the tough,
dedicated crime buster.
The 1980s,
you start to see
this cleanup aspect
come into play
via guys like
Rudolph Giuliani.
He was definitely somebody that
wanted to clean up New York.
New York was still
sort of feeling the hangover,
the 1970s,
a hangover of high unemployment,
high poverty,
thus high crime.
So, he really wanted to
change the city.
GIULIANI: We have to do
securities fraud,
because we have two
stock markets here in New York.
If we don't do it,
nobody's going to do it.
We have to do drug work,
because we have
a big drug problem
in this city.
And we have to do
organized crime work,
because we have
five organized crime families
that have decided,
since the turn of the century,
to locate themselves
here in New York
and have a tremendous amount
of political power,
economic power, social power,
and all sorts of
other kinds of power
that is very unhealthy
for our society.
♪
By the early '80s,
federal prosecutions
started to gather steam.
You had some Bonanno cases,
you had
some Gambino drug cases.
NARRATOR: One of the biggest
at the time
was the Pizza Connection case.
A joint investigation
by the FBI, DEA
and Italian law enforcement
that used information
from Pistone
and a group of other agents,
to go after drug traffickers
in the Bonanno family.
The Pizza Connection case was
a very
complicated investigation,
and it was
to essentially crack
a drug trafficking ring,
that was going on
for years
between Sicily
and North America.
And they used
pizza joints as fronts
to distribute the heroin.
Pizza, heroin,
and organized crime.
The biggest heroin case ever,
according to the feds.
Buscetta reportedly says
that he and other mafia figures
distributed heroin
brought in from Sicily,
through a network of
neighborhood businesses,
including this bakery
in New York City,
and pizza parlors
in New York, New Jersey,
Virginia, Illinois
and Wisconsin.
NARRATOR: Pistone's intel
on the inner workings
of the Bonanno family
gave investigators a roadmap
to bring down
a drug operation that imported
more than
$1.6 billion worth of heroin
from 1975 to 1984.
It certainly established,
beyond any doubt,
if there was any doubt,
that the mafia was involved
in drug trafficking.
And it was a very long
investigation.
And, in a lot of ways,
crippled the Bonanno family
♪
NARRATOR: Using
the RICO statute,
the Pizza Connection case
resulted in the conviction
of 18 mafia players,
and disrupted
a major revenue stream
in New York's
criminal underworld.
It was one of
the Five Families'
first major losses
at the hands of RICO.
But only one of many.
In February of 1985,
the U.S. Attorneys' Office
in New York's Southern District
used the RICO statute
once again.
This time,
to indict all the bosses
of New York's Five Families,
as well as
some other top brass.
The charges?
m*rder, loan-sharking,
labor pay-offs
and extortion.
At the time, the families
were headed by Anthony Salerno,
Carmine Persico,
Paul Castellano,
Anthony Corallo,
and Philip Rastelli.
Rastelli and the Bonannos
were still persona non grata,
but that made no difference
to Rudy Giuliani
and the U.S. Attorneys' Office,
who spearheaded the effort
known as the Commission case.
The Commission case in 1985
involved federal prosecutors...
bringing RICO charges
against the five heads
of New York City's
crime families.
It was unprecedented,
this was one
of the first times
where the feds were able
to use this...
to make cases
that were very,
very difficult to beat.
And, of course,
Rudy Giuliani at the time
was the federal prosecutor,
who really reveled
in all the attention
and the headlines
and all the things
that came out of it.
Giuliani now says
that the tide of battle
is turning
and the mafia
can be crushed.
This case charges
more mafia bosses
in one indictment
than any ever before.
NARRATOR: Among
the indicted bosses,
Paul Castellano was one
of the most experienced.
A cousin of Carlo Gambino,
Big Paul
became boss in 1976.
He was known for bringing
the Gambino family
into more
white-collar rackets.
Bid-rigging, union corruption,
financial fraud.
He saw himself as more
of a CEO than a mob boss.
It isolated and angered
factions of his own family.
Paul Castellano,
you could say,
without much fear
of contradiction,
that he was
the most powerful mob boss
at that time
of the Five Families.
He lived
in a huge white mansion.
His critics
would say that
he was a little
above the fray.
He was regarded
by some people,
as a guy
who was a bit out of touch
with the family rank
and file.
♪
NARRATOR: Castellano was
arrested on February 25th, 1985,
along with his soon-to-be
co-defendants
in the Commission case.
With the trial
more than a year away,
Castellano got out
on a $2 million bond.
For the next nine months,
he'd take meetings
at his home
in Staten Island,
or in restaurants
around New York City.
He remained self-assured
despite the pending trial.
Little did he know,
his greatest threat
was on its way
not from law enforcement,
but from within
his own family.
[intense music plays]
I was working
a swing shift.
We got word
of this sh**ting
on East 46th Street
outside Sparks Steakhouse.
I came running over
to cover to the sh**ting.
When I got there,
the street was closed.
And there were these
two bodies lying
on either side
of the Lincoln Continental
that they had arrived in.
[siren wailing]
♪
Jim Fox, who was the head
of the New York FBI
at the time, was there.
He quickly
confirmed for us,
"Yeah, that's
Paul Castellano...
and that's his driver."
[chilling music plays]
Paul Castellano, gunned down
yesterday on a public street,
before Christmas,
before dinner
in front of a restaurant
he reportedly owned,
and shot by K*llers
who swore at him while
they pulled the trigger and
fired a final shot in his head.
It was more than a mob hit,
it was humiliation.
The same can be said
for his driver
who was k*lled,
Thomas Bilotti.
He was Castellano's
right hand man.
A man that he wanted
to take his place.
CLAIRE WHITE: The m*rder of
Paul Castellano was shocking.
It was a very public affair.
And this is a continuation
of a trend in New York,
where the rules
are out the window.
LARRY: It was stunning.
It was an incredible scene,
and it got
a tremendous amount
of attention.
♪
NARRATOR: The kind of attention
that the leadership
of The Five Families
would rather avoid.
But more attention
was coming.
Especially when
people figured out
who was behind the hit.
A man who didn't fear
attention at all.
John Gotti.
[tense music plays]
NARRATOR: John Joseph Gotti Jr.
was the fifth
of 13 children.
A grandson
of Neopolitan immigrants,
he found his way
as an adolescent
on the streets
of East New York.
Car thefts, muggings.
He developed
a bit of a temper,
and a penchant
for violence.
By his teens,
he fell in with a Gambino crew
and found a mentor
in Gambino underboss
Neil Dellacroce.
Carlo Gambino,
on his deathbed,
passed over Dellacroce
and named Paul Castellano
his successor as boss.
Gotti was incredulous.
So, from the very beginning,
there was a rift
between John Gotti
and Paul Castellano.
A rift
that only grew larger
as Gotti expanded his gambling
and loan-sharking outfits,
while members
of his crew built
a drug trafficking
operation.
It was just a matter of time
before one of them made a move.
And John Gotti
moved first.
[tense music plays]
REPORTER: Today,
authorities say
Gotti is being sought
by the FBI for questioning
in the m*rder
of the two men
who stood in his way for control
of the Gambino family.
Paul Castellano, the head
of the Gambino family,
was k*lled because
he was upset with John Gotti
and his crew being involved
in narcotics.
Castellano didn't want
any part of narcotics.
Gotti did,
because it made him money.
The k*lling of a mafia boss
is very disruptive,
obviously, to the Cosa Nostra.
When Gotti kills Castellano...
there are rumors about
who supported it and who didn't.
But as a result,
Gotti was,
in a lot of ways,
anathema
to a lot of
the other mobsters.
We were concerned
about Gotti,
but not paying
that much attention to him
until December of 1985,
when he became
the boss of the family.
So, he now becomes
our number one target.
And with the Gambino squad,
we're focusing on that.
CLAIRE: Gotti is able to evade
law enforcement
for a few years.
And it's a combination
of having this network,
where he's able
to insulate himself
from specific crimes
and specific offenses.
There's also
just this reality
that he's untouchable.
NARRATOR: It had been
six years since New York City
had seen a mob k*lling
like this.
Now prosecutors
were forced to reckon
with the fact that
John Gotti had gotten
to Paul Castellano
before law enforcement could.
And worst of all,
he'd made a clean getaway.
With minimal hard evidence
linking Gotti to the hit,
he took over control
of the Gambino family
with little restriction.
John Gotti bursts onto the scene
in the American perception.
Suddenly he's on the front page
of the tabloids
and he's this persona
right out of central casting.
John Gotti showed up
at the right time in New York.
You have more lavish parties
happening at night.
You've got
bigger nightclubs.
You've got more celebrities
stepping out at night,
and, again,
being photographed by the media.
John Gotti is one
of these guys
that likes to be photographed
by the paparazzi.
He is called
the Dapper Don.
REPORTER: One report said
each suit costs $1,000.
Gotti supposedly got angry.
The suits cost $1,800
LARRY: Gotti was
on the front page all the time
and the aura
grows around him.
The Brioni suits,
and Andy Warhol does
a portrait of him.
He became a star.
He's a m*rder*r.
He's a drug dealer.
He's this, and he's that.
People loved him.
You know what I mean?
I think
there's probably still people
out in Howard Beach
who still love him.
That's the best man around
and I'm 45 years old.
The best man for me.
As far as Mr. Gotti goes,
I've known him as a youngster,
and always this gentleman.
Whenever I see him walking,
he always has
a marvelous smile on his face.
In fact, I admire
the way he dresses.
He's always been
a very respectable person
in the community...
and I find it
very hard to believe
what they're saying
about him.
Gotti, more than anybody,
was the guy,
who galvanized
that image of the mobster
in the 80s.
REPORTER: While the jury began
to finally deliberate his case,
John Gotti has apparently
not lost his sense of humor.
NARRATOR: His contemporaries,
however, knew,
that public displays
of wealth and arrogance
led to indictments
and violence.
It was another breach
of their code.
So, while Gotti
made headlines,
members of other families
watched begrudgingly
from the shadows.
Namely his old ally
from the Bonanno family,
underboss Joseph Massino.
[Anthony] Massino and Gotti
lived close together
in the Howard Beach area.
Heavily residential,
heavily Italian-American,
and not far
from JFK Airport.
Which explains
some of the mob activities.
It's an area
with teachers, lawyers,
and, of course,
infamously known
for some of
the mob characters
who've lived there,
among them being
Joe Massino
and John Gotti.
They helped each other.
Gotti's people helped Massino
when they took care
of the three captains.
[g*nshots echo]
Helped them
dispose of the bodies.
But I don't think Gotti
and Massino liked each other.
EDWARD: Joe Massino wanted to
be the quiet don.
He did not want to have
anybody know who he was.
He didn't want
anybody focusing on him.
When he became the real,
full-time acknowledged boss,
that's how
he ran his family.
He was really
the antithesis of Gotti.
Massino felt that Gotti
was not doing the right thing
by the mob
by being too showy.
And Gotti didn't think highly
of Massino.
He thought of him as a guy
that was really under his thumb.
Over time,
they became antagonistic.
NARRATOR: As John Gotti's
stature grew,
his predecessors were being
ushered off stage.
On November 19th, 1986,
almost a year
after indictments
in the Commission case
were announced,
a jury found the defendants
guilty on every charge.
[tense music plays]
REPORTER: One hundred years
in prison
for Carmine "The Snake" Persico.
One hundred years for
Anthony "Tony Ducks" Corallo,
One hundred years
for Anthony "Fat Tony" Salerno.
The Commission case takes out
very high-level mobsters
in New York.
Specifically
bosses of families.
And we're left
with a major power vacuum
NARRATOR: The Commission case
successfully put away
three of
the Five Family bosses.
Corallo, Salerno
and Persico were old school.
Men of the code.
Loyal to omertà.
So they kept
their mouths shut
and were shipped off
to prisons
in Missouri or Illinois
to spend
their remaining years.
With this victory,
law enforcement had crippled
the Lucchese, Genovese
and Colombo families.
Bonanno family boss,
Philip Rastelli,
had been a part of the original
Commission case indictment,
but prosecutors
found it difficult
to link him
to the other bosses.
So he'd have to be
handled separately.
I was, at the time,
the intelligence coordinator
for the Bonanno family.
I went out to interview
these cooperators
specifically about
the Bonanno family,
so we could get a better handle
on what they were doing.
I couldn't tell you
how many
different cooperators
I interviewed.
But every
one of them told me,
"The Bonannos weren't there.
They weren't part
of the boys club
and so I can't tell you
anything about them,
because I don't know
what they were doing."
So as a result,
since they got locked out
of the more lucrative
and the more
sophisticated operations,
they became involved
in other things.
It helped the Bonannos
find new sources of income,
and it insulated them
from law enforcement
and ultimately led
to Massino
becoming the big kid
on the block.
NARRATOR: 1986.
New York's Five Families
were under extreme
federal scrutiny,
with three family
bosses prosecuted
in The Commission case
in New York's
Southern District.
The Bonanno family leadership,
still considered pariahs
in the criminal underworld,
found trouble of their own.
At this point,
Bonanno boss,
Phillip "Rusty" Rastelli
was back out
on the street.
But his health was bad
and his protege, Joe Massino,
was rising in stature.
When the two went to trial
on RICO charges
in April of 1986,
Massino seized the moment.
In 1986,
there was this massive
bid-rigging scheme
that was going on
with these huge moving
and storage companies.
They had to pay
an enormous amount of money
in order to operate
to the union,
which was run
by the Bonanno crime family.
Van drivers, packers,
furniture handlers,
warehousemen, an appliance
home delivery union.
The government alleges
that the union's leadership
is really controlled
by the Bonanno crime family.
EDWARD MCDONALD: It was
a seven-month trial.
It was the most
important case we had,
as the entire leadership
of the Bonanno crime family
and a major Teamster local.
So I was there every day.
MAN: Back it off,
okay, take it easy.
Back it off,
thank you, thank you.
We're okay, we're okay.
All right.
The boss, Rusty Rastelli,
was really
getting kind of feeble.
REPORTER: On this day,
he collapsed in a courtroom.
His niece told me
her uncle has cancer.
Law enforcement officials say
the man running
the Bonanno family
for Rastelli
is Joseph Massino.
I have to say
that Massino,
in a sense,
became somewhat of a folk hero.
There are all
different varieties of people
who become bosses
of families.
Some people
are not very presupposing
or impressive looking,
some people are.
Joe Massino
looked like the guy
who could be the boss
of an organized crime family.
He was a man
of the streets.
Every day he came
in wearing a black suit,
a white shirt, no tie,
looked the same way
every day.
But he had a way
of carrying himself
and had a real
sort of charisma.
REMO FRANCESCHINI:
Joe Massino is a younger,
very respected
organized crime figure
and involved with members
of the other families.
Every day at lunchtime,
Rastelli, who was
the boss of the family,
was pretty feeble,
and he'd sit with his lawyer
and have lunch
in the courtroom,
whereas Joey
would conduct meetings.
They would sit on park benches
in front of the courthouse.
And it was absolutely
a scene right out of a movie.
NARRATOR: In October of 1986,
Rusty Rastelli and Joe Massino,
the Bonanno brass,
were convicted in the moving
and storage racketeering case.
They were sentenced
a few months later.
Rastelli got 12 years.
Massino got 10.
In 1991, Rastelli died
while out
on compassionate release,
and Joe Massino,
while in prison,
officially became
boss of the Bonanno family.
Now, sixty years
since Lucky Luciano
formed The Commission,
New York's Five Families
had seen various types
of mob bosses.
Frank Costello,
the smooth businessman.
Vito Genovese,
the ruthless k*ller.
Joe Colombo, the revolutionary.
Paul Castellano, the CEO.
John Gotti, the Tabloid Star.
There were others, of course.
All flawed in their own way.
But Joe Massino
was a new breed.
He had learned from the mistakes
of his predecessors.
When rivals looked
to dethrone his boss,
he remained loyal.
When infighting
festered in the family,
he sought counsel
from The Commission.
[g*nsh*t echoes]
And when rats infiltrated,
he moved swiftly
and with force.
When it came to omertà,
Joe Massino had
as good a resume as anyone.
But he was
operating in a world
far different
than his predecessors.
The 1990s is definitely
a period
of transition in New York
for the mob.
But more than anything,
it's just a period
of instability.
And that's because,
especially moving past
The Commission case,
we've got a lot of bosses
in prison.
♪
ANTHONY: Gotti
got indicted late 1990.
So he had a very brief
tenure as boss.
REPORTER: It'll be
another Christmas
in the slammer
for John Gotti.
The reputed
Gambino Crime Family boss
was arrested last December.
He's been
in federal custody ever since.
REPORTER: Prosecutors
will produce witnesses
who saw Gotti
giving instructions
at the scene of a hit
on Paul Castellano.
ANTHONY: He was
convicted in '92.
All the other families,
their leadership
was in disarray.
After the series
of prosecutions,
and there were many,
the mob
was certainly weakened.
The Feds say that they have
busted another mobster.
REPORTER: Last week,
the FBI arrested Gigante
for allegedly
masterminding a mob takeover
of a New York's window
replacement industry.
More informants than ever
are coming forth
to put the mob away.
Police say for several months,
the Colombo family has been
in a civil w*r.
So you had
this bad period for the mob,
in the 1980s
and certainly into the 1990s.
The Gotti era
of showy night club life,
in your face
to the FBI,
tactics wasn't going
to work anymore.
All the families
were impacted.
Some more so than others.
The guys do the arithmetic,
and they realize
you're gonna spend
the rest of your days in jail,
be it 25 years or life.
You're not gonna see
your grandkids,
or children again,
you're not gonna be
on the outside again.
Um, what for?
For a code of omertà that
everybody else is trashing?
Why should I be
the fall guy?
Why should I be the one
to take all the heat?
So that's what
I think changed.
The old value
of camaraderie,
omertà,
uh, loyalty,
really has eroded.
What you had
was a realization
that we can't be
like we used to be.
We have to be more secretive.
We have to be more careful.
We have to be more careful
about who we deal with.
NARRATOR: Who they deal with on
the outside and on the inside.
Guys were paranoid,
and with the oath
of omertà
facing its greatest threat yet,
the future
of the Five Families
was now in jeopardy
like never before.
NARRATOR: The 1990s was a time
of economic prosperity
for many Americans.
The Cold w*r had ended.
Tech was booming.
Life was good.
But for the leadership
of New York's Five Families,
who had been badly weakened
by federal cases,
their way
of life was dying.
Released from prison in 1992,
into this reality stepped
Joe Massino.
♪
Memory serves,
he got out
November of 1992,
I think it was Friday the 13th,
as a matter of fact.
The world that Joe Massino
was dealing with
in 1992 was
very different.
All the bosses
went to prison.
The only true boss
acknowledged
by the Five Families
who's out on
the street with power
is Joey Massino,
now running
the Bonanno crime family,
wanting to get back
into The Commission.
And because of Joey's stature
and Joey's charisma,
he's accepted back into
the five-member Commission.
JACK STUBING: Joe Massino,
he had a reputation
as being
a wise guy's wise guy.
He was all about omertà
and honor and, you know,
all of these things
that they always
pat themselves
on the back as possessing.
We continued to try
and develop informants,
and we weren't
gaining much traction
and we were doing
everything we could.
But there were other irons
in the fire by this time.
There was trouble brewing
in the Colombo family,
I think it was
between 1990 and 1993,
which actually
developed into a sh**ting w*r.
As I recall,
I think there was 21 shootings
and 12 deaths.
When you have
a situation like that,
when bodies
are hitting the street,
it's all hands on deck.
So we diverted
a lot of resources
to trying
to address that problem,
in the meantime,
Joe Massino
was off in the corner
doing what he does,
strengthening the family
and strengthening his hand.
DOMINICK CICALE: Joe was like
the king at that time.
So whatever Joe would say,
nobody griped,
nobody questioned it.
It was done.
Everybody looked up to him.
EDWARD: Joe Massino forms
a new hierarchy around him
in the leadership
of the Bonanno crime family.
NARRATOR: As boss
of the Bonannos,
Joe tapped
his closest confidant,
Sal Vitale,
to be his underboss.
The two men were not
only tied by years of friendship
and a code of omertà,
but by marriage.
Joe was married
to Sal's sister, Josephine.
PAT COLGAN: They were
boyhood friends.
kids from Queens.
Played together, ran together.
ANTHONY: Joe taught Sal
how to swim
in some
of the local pools
and that was, like, something
that bonded the two men.
Of course, Joe also
had designs on Josephine,
Sal's sister,
and it was through
that relationship
that Joe got to know Josephine
much better.
And Sal came up
in the family
because he was close
to Joe.
He made his impression
that way.
JACK: A lot of times,
the hierarchy of a family
changes depending on who's up
and who's down,
who's in and out,
who's favored by the boss.
He had a consiglieri
who had a social club
in Bath Avenue
and in Brooklyn,
whose name
was Anthony Spero.
Then under, then there was
a series of captains.
Sometimes they would
go up or down
if they were in favor
or out of favor.
ANTHONY: Among the top captains
for Joe Massino
were Frank Lino,
Frank Coppa,
Richard Cantarella.
RICHARD CANTARELLA:
They called me "Shellackhead"
because I had
jet black hair,
and I always was vain
about my hair.
The family wasn't very big.
When Joe then came home
and he put the whole thing
back together,
and from what I understand,
there was over 200 men,
made guys
in the Bonanno family.
Joe Massino
did everything the right way.
He was a class act.
He was, uh,
a very paranoid guy
in the first place.
Very careful, a smart man,
not an educated man,
but a smart man.
He, uh-- he had
a fundamental understanding
of what was,
at that time, in those days,
uh, primitive
surveillance equipment.
EDWARD: You could
never mention Joey's name.
You're supposed
to touch your ear,
instead of the nose
or the chin.
He was the ear.
RICHARD: They used the term
because he always had
listening devices.
So he always had his ear to
what was going on, so to speak.
Massino would meet
with other gangsters,
usually in social clubs,
but after a while that stopped.
He closed them down
at one time.
He wanted
all the clubs closed
because they were
meeting places.
I mean,
I got followed by FBI.
I did some stupid things.
And what happens
is they follow you,
go right to the club,
you know, and there you are.
There's a bunch of guys,
before you know it,
they're sitting
across the street in a--
in a van,
filming everything.
Just the way it was.
So when Joe Massino
got out of jail,
he passed this edict
that people weren't supposed
to meet
in social clubs anymore.
And he just started
to enforce stricter discipline.
If you were going
to have conversations
with people of significance,
you were going
to do them on the street,
in a park some place,
where you could see
if there was any surveillance
and avoid surveillance.
DOMINICK:
Tightening everything up,
pulling in the reins,
pulling people back
from being out there
in the limelight,
creating havoc,
keeping things more underground.
No funerals, no weddings.
Dress normal,
don't showboat, don't be flashy.
Joe Massino didn't like
to talk by telephone.
He preferred
to talk to somebody
either in his house,
or near his home
in Howard Beach.
And there was an area in
Howard Beach known as the Weeds.
It's a federal
nature preserve.
It's swampy.
But he was very,
very conscious of surveillance,
of dealing with people
who would turn on him.
There was a lot of murders
in the '80s and early '90s
of our FBI informants.
Joey would cause
people to disappear
and most likely k*lled.
Power was everything
in the Bonanno family.
The families were powerful
because of their lethality.
He was a guy
who was constantly,
what we call now,
situational awareness.
He was, uh-- he was aware
of who was around him
and he limited who could have
direct contact with him.
And he maintained
strict discipline.
He had a reputation
of doing his own work,
meaning, you know,
if somebody needed
to be dealt with violently,
he wasn't afraid to do it.
And that was
the reputation he had.
He knew
our whole bag of tricks.
He knew about wiretaps,
he knew about microphones.
It wasn't working, we weren't
getting what we needed.
We needed to try
a different approach.
NARRATOR: Through the 1990s,
with most of The Commission
leadership in prison,
New York's mob families
scratched and clawed
to keep money coming in.
They worked in conjunction
with one another
to bleed money out
of the most lucrative targets
in New York City.
The major mob racket
in New York
is extorting money
from legitimate businesses,
and this is commonly
called the mob tax.
The '80s and the '90s
are the height
of this mob tax period.
This is really
where we see that
organized crime has infiltrated
almost every
industry of labor.
Every single element
of the garment industry.
There is a profit of about
$500 million
just from
garbage hauling alone.
New Yorkers
pay about 35% more
than fair market value
just to get
their garbage taken away.
A 1-2% tax by the mob,
a "tax" on all windows
being installed
across the city.
You're paying percentages
off of every single window
in a city that probably
has the most windows
of anywhere
in North America.
REPORTER: In addition,
it's alleged that the mob
greases the wheels
of the Fulton Fish Market,
controls most of the private
trash removal industry,
runs hardcore p*rn*graphy,
drug trafficking,
and portions
of the film industry.
It's the consumers
who are picking up the tab.
EDWARD: After Donnie Brasco,
infiltration of the family
became public.
It wasn't as if
the Bonanno family
ceased doing an operation.
They continued to control
the labor unions,
bid rigging
and extortion schemes.
And their stature
had been diminished
in the world
of organized crime.
As a result, they were
not able to participate
in some of these
large scale schemes
that the other four families
participated in.
Since they got locked out
of the more lucrative
and the more
sophisticated operations,
they became involved
in other things.
They accelerated
their involvement
with narcotics.
They were sort of pioneers
in getting into Wall Street.
They do whatever works.
The Post was
the perfect example
of targets of opportunity.
NARRATOR: One of the mafia's
most successful ploys
was the "no-show job."
The family
would muscle control
over a union
or legitimate business
and give high ranking
members of the family a job.
A job with a good salary,
a job with benefits,
a job that they didn't
even have to show up for.
Richard Cantarella, a captain
in the Bonanno family,
held one of these union jobs
at the New York Post,
one of the most circulated
daily tabloids in New York City.
When I got involved
I had a no-show job
and nobody was going
to say anything
because of who I was.
I was
a tailman on a truck.
That means
I didn't do the driving,
because if you are
the driver,
there's no way
you could not show up.
So I was the tailman,
and at the end of the week
I took care of the driver.
I did very well,
I was getting paid.
There's always
gambling going on.
So if that was going on
by somebody in the Post,
they'd have to give up
a piece of that money,
or we're not gonna
allow you to do it.
Any gambling, any stealing,
any lending of money,
we had to get a piece of it.
And I always managed
to stay on the book someplace.
Now I'm on Social Security.
And at that point,
I got involved
in taking over
one of the parking lots
in the Marine and Aviation.
In New York,
parking is a commodity.
Parking was big.
Parking lots would be a good
opportunity for organized crime,
especially back
in the '80s and the '90s,
because there was less
electronic bookkeeping,
as it were.
But back then it was
largely a cash business.
Not all of it makes it
to the accounting books
so that you don't have
to pay taxes on all of it,
so a lot of it goes
right into your pocket.
It's a hard thing to audit
when you don't have controls
of how many cars are going in
and how many cars are going out.
RICHARD: From nothing,
I wound up with 22 locations.
I wound up
having a home built.
Parking was very good to me.
NARRATOR: Richard Cantarella
was bringing in
serious money
for the Bonanno family.
And building a comfortable life
for his nuclear family
out in Staten Island.
For Richard's son, Paul,
the riches
that the life provided
were too good
to pass up.
PAUL CANTARELLA: As a kid,
they always knew
I was Richie's son,
and I always got respected.
Instead of going
to summer camp,
I would want to go
with my father to Manhattan.
I would go with him
to the parking lot
and the newsstand.
And then from there
we would work
our way to Mulberry Street.
It was all business.
Restaurants, parking lots,
you know,
big Mercedes,
always dressed nice.
I just saw
the respect on the block,
you know, and who doesn't
want to be like them?
It was the greatest thing
you could see.
I just was so loyal to them,
and I looked up to them
that whatever
they wanted me to do I would do.
And so, they decided
to bring me in.
I got made.
Me and Sal
became very close.
Actually, probably closer
my son was to Sal Vitale.
He's the one
who promoted me to make my son.
He said, "Why don't you
put your son's name in?"
PAUL: It wound up being
in my mother's basement.
Joe Massino was there,
Sal Vitale, Franky, Lino,
my father, and a few guys
that were gonna get made.
They pretty much explained
that it's a brotherhood.
And then they explained
a couple of the rules.
"You don't pick up
your hands to any made guys.
You don't fool around
with anybody's wife.
That's your father,
you know, Joe Massino, now.
You know, any problems,
you go to him."
Joe was the real deal.
You know who he was
and my father
always taught me,
"You don't ask any questions,
you do what he asks,
you don't do
anything behind his back,
and you don't have to worry."
You know, people went missing,
and you didn't ask a question.
NARRATOR: When Paul Cantarella
took his oath of omertà in 1996,
he joined a family
that was a dying breed.
And a way of life
on the verge of extinction.
But Cantarella
believed in Joe Massino,
and believed
that omertà wasn't dead yet.
Even while all the signs around
him began to say otherwise.
♪
NARRATOR: By the late '90s,
the Bonanno family,
under the leadership
of Joe Massino,
had become the most powerful
family in New York City.
He learned from all the mistakes
of his predecessors,
stay out of the press,
avoid drugs,
never k*ll
unless absolutely necessary.
His family
was the only one in New York
that had yet
to have a member cooperate.
In short, omertà in action.
For those looking
to join the life,
the Bonanno family
was the most obvious choice.
DOMINICK: Well, I grew up
in the Pelham Bay
section of the Bronx.
I never really had
a father figure.
He was doin' his thing.
He had step-children
he was more concerned about.
So, that's, I guess, what led me
to gravitate toward the streets.
And then, my twenties
and a little bit of my thirties,
I spent in jail.
It's definitely, like,
a recruitment center,
the prison system.
I had a 10 year sentence,
and I get sent to Lewisburg
where, at that time,
you had a majority
of lifers there,
people doing life sentences.
So, you had a lot of top figures
in the mafia at that facility.
And that's where I started
seeing the politicking.
That's where I got a lot of
proposals from different guys.
"Hey, you know,
when you get out on the street,
you can come see us.
We'd love to have
a young guy like you around us."
♪
In the Bronx,
it was predominantly
Bonanno and Genovese,
Bonannos had a good name.
All the other crime families
you had made members
that cooperated.
They didn't.
When I got out of jail,
I met Vinny Basciano
in the Bonanno crime family.
MIKE: Vinny Basciano
was a captain
in the Bonanno family.
The Bronx faction,
as I would call them.
We understood, Vinny,
to be a drug dealer,
a heroin guy.
He was a suspect
in a number of murders.
DOMINICK: I'm driving him
around.
Vinny always had
the number locations,
the Joker Poker machines,
that was his primary business.
They tried marijuana.
We had marijuana
coming in from Canada.
Ecstasy pills.
Well, Vinny asked me
if I wanted part of the life.
He said,
"I need you. I want you."
I accepted it.
MIKE: Cicale rose
quickly.
He and Basciano became close.
DOMINICK: Joe Massino
did start the change,
to name it the Massino family.
Everybody looked up to him
at that point.
When he said something,
nobody griped,
nobody questioned it.
It was done.
He was smart
in a lot of ways,
but Joe surrounded himself,
and not in my opinion,
it's a fact, with garbage,
Sal Vitale, Richie Cantarella.
This is all his hierarchy,
his administration.
He put all those people
into power.
ANTHONY: People didn't like
Sal as much.
He didn't build bridges
with some of the capos
and some of the soldiers.
And they became to not like him.
They thought he was trying
to inflate his importance.
So, he was,
in that sense, marginalized.
JACK: It's not at all unusual
in these situations
for jealousies to develop
within the hierarchy
of an organized crime family.
The history of organized crime
since the 1930s
in the United States
is replete with examples of it.
Where somebody may be
the number two or three guy,
starts to get big ideas,
and he wants to step up
to the number one spot.
Sal had become quite comfortable
in his position
as the street boss.
Word on the street
was that he did not treat
the capos well.
You know, digging deeper
into their pockets.
That he's not fair
when he settles disputes,
he plays favorites.
And if a boss
can't maintain control
over a situation like that,
he's a goner.
RICHARD: Joe belittled him.
He embarrassed him.
He was the underboss.
Joe kept him
out of the restaurant.
He just fell out of love
between brother-in-laws.
Whatever happened, happened.
He probably felt overshadowed
greatly by Joe
and probably was struggling
to make his impression
in the world of the mob.
But I don't think
he had the clout
or engendered the loyalty
that he needed to be a boss.
If Sal was playing
fast and loose,
Joe Massino had the kind
of paranoid personality,
being constantly on red alert
and sensitive
to these kind of things
I think that Joe started
to have notions
about he might clip him.
NARRATOR: Joe Massino knew
murders led to investigations.
Which led to indictments.
Which led to prison.
But his brother-in-law
had become a problem.
Captains in the family
were complaining
that Vitale was getting greedy.
Others had suspicions
that the underboss
was a government informant.
In 2001,
Vitale was indicted
on RICO charges
and worked out a plea deal
with prosecutors
for a reduced sentence.
Massino wondered
if the light sentence meant
he had flipped.
Word began to circulate
that Sal Vitale
couldn't be trusted,
and he was not
a man of their code.
DOMINICK: And there was
a discussion between Joe Massino
and Vinny Basciano
to k*ll Sal Vitale.
And Vinny pulled me up, he says,
"You're getting a piece of work
for this family.
It's going to be
a major piece of work.
Be ready. Beware.
And it's going to happen
in about two weeks."
The story was
that Sal's wife went to Joe
and pled a case
for her husband
not being k*lled.
Joe was in a tough pickle
because if he did
anything to Sal
what would that do
to Joe's domestic relationship
with his wife?
k*lling your wife's brother?
The little boy
she used to raise
from the time they were
just a growing small family?
It was a tough spot for Joe.
NARRATOR: After years
of surveillance and false leads,
The FBI's Bonanno Squad
was still struggling
to make a case
against the family's
leadership stick.
Joe Massino
had been too careful.
He had plans
to k*ll his brother-in-law
and underboss, Sal Vitale,
but never went through with it.
With no murders to chase
and whispers
that Big Joe and his crew
were skimming money
through parking lots
the feds called the accountants
and began requesting
bank statements.
Their case would be built
from the balance sheet.
JACK: I became the supervisor
of the Bonannos squad,
and I went to my boss,
and I said, "Listen,
"I'm convinced
that if we could get somebody
that knew
the financial landscape,
that could, put the pieces
of this puzzle together,
that would be the secret
to tipping the scales
in our favor."
Forensic accounting is a skill
in the financial
investigative world
which takes a holistic approach
at looking at the records
in the financial systems,
analyzing where the money
is flowing from.
It's a generator of evidence
which helps you demonstrate,
in a RICO type investigation,
the relationships
between people,
even though
you didn't see them together
on a surveillance
or hear them on a phone call.
Thankfully they sent
two fresh-faced
young accountants.
I said, "Look,
I'm going to try
and take everything I know
about the Bonanno family
out of my head
and put it in your head.
And then I want you
to mix it up
with what you know
about financial investigations
and forensic accounting
and make some magic."
And boy, did they.
ANTHONY: They started
looking at the businesses
of people known to be
in the Bonanno crime family.
They also came upon
a couple of informants
who put them in the direction
of the parking lot ventures
in Lower Manhattan.
And this was like
the ch*nk in the armor
where the feds could get in
and start doing
the forensic accounting
and getting people
on tax charges,
extortion charges and whatnot.
So, that led to a series
of dominoes falling.
I knew something was up, sure.
I leave my house,
I lived on the water,
and I'd spot them following me.
Their windows were pitch black.
And it was never the car
that you saw parked.
They would wire down
to another car.
I knew
what they were looking for.
I had over $500,000
of Bonanno money
in my house, hidden.
They came in once...
they went through my house,
and they took
all the parking lot money.
Every parking lot
was on my desk.
this one, that one.
Took $52,000 of money.
And then they raided again.
[sirens blaring]
But this time, my mother,
typical old Italian mother,
gave her a couple bankers'
money bags.
She never asked what was inside.
That money,
you could never get it from her.
Forget about it.
NARRATOR: The FBI's
Bonanno squad raided
Richard Cantarella's house
on two occasions
in the summer of 2002.
They were hoping
to find more money.
But in a safe,
in a back room,
they found a roster
of his crew members
and the unlisted
telephone numbers
of Joe Massino and Sal Vitale.
The evidence was stacking up.
And it was no secret,
serious charges were incoming.
On October second, 2002,
Richard Cantarella
and his son Paul were arrested.
Richard was indicted
on 24 racketeering counts
and was facing life in prison.
I was facing life.
My son was facing
a lot of years.
PAUL: I'm getting rearrested,
they are telling me
while I'm in jail.
This is the first time
I've been arrested,
I'm getting recharged
with some more serious crimes.
They're charging me with things
that friends of mine
are doing while I'm sleeping.
So, I come out
into the unit one day,
I tell my father,
"Dad, after this,
whatever it is,
the time I do, I'm moving away."
He looks at me,
he goes, "You quit?
You can't quit the mob."
He says, "You can't quit."
I says, "Well, I'm moving away
after all this."
This was just gonna be
an ongoing thing.
When you come out of jail,
it's gonna happen again.
And so we decided to cooperate.
[dramatic music]
I cooperated
and my son cooperated
because we did not want to spend
the rest of our lives in jail.
And that's only me,
I only cooperated
because I wanted to.
That's the long
and the short of it.
ANTHONY: Cantarella fell.
Frank Coppa, Frank Lino.
Everything came together.
All these cooperators
gave the feds
enormous amounts of evidence.
And they were putting together
now a critical mass
against Joe Massino.
It was like the atomic b*mb
was going to explode.
Massino was going to
get caught up
in this blast of a prosecution.
♪
REPORTER 1: Now, Joseph Massino,
the alleged head
of New York's Bonanno mob family
is under arrest.
REPORTER 2: Massino
is charged in the m*rder
of Sonny Black Napolitano.
A gangster who was whacked
for letting Donnie Brasco
infiltrate the family.
REPORTER 1: The leaders of all
five New York mob families,
the Gambinos, Bonannos,
Luccheses, Colombos,
and Genoveses
are all either
in jail or facing trial.
Prosecutors said Massino
was the last official boss
of New York's
five mafia families,
who wasn't already in jail.
NARRATOR: Joe Massino
was arrested
in the early morning hours
of January ninth, 2003.
His brother-in-law
and underboss, Sal Vitale
was arrested the same morning.
They both knew it was coming.
By then, it was common knowledge
that Richard Cantarella
and a handful of captains
in the family
had turned state's evidence.
Snitched. Betrayed Omertà.
The next big question
on everyone's mind,
what would Sal Vitale do now?
Would he flip or hold the line?
When things got quiet
members of the family
were left to wonder.
MIKE: The older guys
in the Bonanno family
were very savvy.
They understood
how the court system worked.
They understood that, you know,
if somebody was in jail
and nobody knew
where that person was,
that that person
was probably cooperating.
[g*nsh*t]
♪
[g*nsh*t]
Around the time
Vitale was removed
from whatever facility
he was in,
certain leaders
in the Bonanno family,
they talk a lot about Vitale
and whether or not
he's fully cooperating,
and if he's fully cooperating,
just in how bad a spot
are they in.
And you can tell when you listen
to the recordings.
NARRATOR: When Vitale flipped
in early 2003,
he was moved
out of his cell in Manhattan.
Family members could no longer
get in touch with him.
Their fears had been realized.
The family's underboss
was a rat.
Wiretaps
and consensual recordings
from the ongoing investigation
into other members
of the Bonanno family,
namely Vinny Basciano,
picked up their concerns.
Sal Vitale decided to cooperate.
That was a big domino.
Joe's trial lasted for somewhere
between eight to 10 weeks.
There was no precedent
that I could recall
such a close
familial relationship
testifying against a boss.
REPORTER: Testifying this week,
Salvatore Vitale,
the Bonanno Crime Family
underboss,
Massino's second-in-command,
oldest friend,
and brother-in-law.
It was a dramatic moment
at the trial.
This is his brother-in-law,
testified against him.
It was unimaginable
in the '90s,
and in the '80s and the '70s.
REPORTER: In the courtroom,
Massino's wife, Josephine,
spends her days glaring
at her brother, Sal Vitale,
whose testimony could land
her husband in prison.
ANTHONY: You could see
Joe's wife, Josephine,
you could see her blood boiling.
And you could see the daughters
really getting angry
REPORTER: Vitale
agreeing to testify
in exchange for leniency.
Good Looking Sal
saw everything, he says,
including the 1981 triple m*rder
of Massino's rivals
at a Brooklyn social club.
He also testified
that Massino ordered the m*rder
of the man responsible
for allowing an FBI agent
to infiltrate the mafia.
REPORTER 2: Massino
faces life in prison
if convicted in this trial.
Afterward, he'll be tried
for a more recent m*rder,
which, because of a change
in federal law,
carries the death penalty.
REPORTER: Vinny "The Chin"
Gigante, Genovese family boss,
is serving 12 years
for racketeering.
John Gotti,
nicknamed "The Dapper Don,"
died in federal prison
two years ago.
Joseph "Big Joey" Massino,
close friend of the late Gotti,
alleged boss
of the Bonanno family
is the last Don.
Now, Massino is on trial
for seven counts of m*rder
and racketeering.
NARRATOR: The trial
of Joseph Massino
ran for two months
in the summer of 2004.
He'd been federally indicted
on counts of gambling,
loan-sharking, arson,
money-laundering,
and seven different murders.
Including the 1981 slaying
of three captains...
[g*nshots]
...and the k*lling
of Sonny Black.
[g*nsh*t]
If found guilty,
he'd be sentenced
to life in prison.
But an eighth
m*rder charge loomed
and with it the possibility
of the death penalty.
MIKE: There's a verdict
in July of '04.
The case agents,
they're the lead agents,
but it's also
an all hands on deck
type of event for the squad.
ANTHONY: Well,
the day of the verdict,
the other reporters were there.
Reporters from the Daily News
and New York Post, Times.
In the end, he got convicted
of engineering
a number of homicides.
Including three captains
and Sonny Black.
And add the gambling,
that was almost
like a sugar coating.
And had to forfeit
$10 million of his assets.
Incredibly,
Joe had all of those assets
either in cash
or in gold bars in his house.
But Joe had that stuff,
and he turned it over
to the government.
That's a forfeiture.
But that wasn't the end
of the story, as you know.
♪
I got an indication
that something was up
the very day he was convicted.
We were in the courthouse,
and the press room
was down the hall
from the court room.
And between the judge's chambers
and the courtroom
was just a narrow hallway.
And normally the hallways open.
At some point,
right after the verdict,
the doors were shut.
I said, "That's odd."
And we started thinking
there's something going on.
EDWARD: After
the conviction comes in,
Joe was convicted,
I think, on seven murders.
So, he knew was going to get
sentenced to life in prison
on the first RICO
for which
he had just been convicted.
And now he's facing
the death penalty on the others.
He secretly goes to the judge,
to the marshals,
the night of the conviction
and says
that he wants to cooperate.
Joe explains that "Look,
I'm represented by a guy
who has connections
to the Bonanno crime family.
I have to have what is known
as shadow counsel.
Somebody who is going to
negotiate for me
with the U.S.
Attorneys' Office,
but is not going to share
this with anybody else."
It's all going
to be done secretly.
You know, I'd been
out of law enforcement
for 14 years at that point.
I was a partner in a large
international law firm.
The chief
of the Organized Crime Unit
calls me up and says,
"You want to have some fun?"
And I said, "Representing Joe?"
I say, "I don't know
if he's gonna want me
to represent him."
He says "Why don't you
just come over tomorrow?"
You know, "We'll arrange
to have him brought over,
make a story up
that he has a problem
with his heart
or something, you know,
get a medical thing
to get him out of the prison."
And I go over
and the judge says,
"I understand you prosecuted him
several years ago."
And they produced Joe,
and he comes in,
he has his handcuffs on,
and he has shackles
on his feet.
And he looks at me,
and he smiles,
and he goes,
"It's my lucky day, I got you."
[laughs]
So, he agreed
that I would represent him,
and so I did.
NARRATOR: Greg Andres
was the lead prosecutor
in the case against Joe Massino.
He'd been the man
leading the charge
to take down
the Bonanno hierarchy.
Young, smart, and cunning.
Some might say c*ck.
The Bonannos knew him,
and he knew the Bonannos.
With his white whale
sitting in front of him,
Andres would have to hear
some truly groundbreaking intel
to get approval
for Massino's cooperation.
I said, "Joe, look, you've just
got to tell them everything.
You know, rehearse everything
with them in advance."
I said, "They're going to know
if you're holding back.
You know, they have
tons of information."
I said, "The only way
you're going to get out
from this is if you
just tell them
the truth about everything."
He said, "I'm not going
to hold back."
So, we launched
into a series of,
three or four days
of Joe proffering
to the FBI and to the U.S.
Attorneys' office,
the information that he had.
ANTHONY: In the end,
Joe didn't give as much evidence
as we thought he might.
Possibly because
a lot of the main targets
had already been convicted.
Gotti was convicted and dead.
Gigante was long gone.
Castellano
was out of the picture.
You had Rastelli gone.
So, Joe's big bid
for cooperation involved
his underling, Vinny Basciano.
NARRATOR: Vinny Basciano,
"Vinny Gorgeous,"
became acting boss
of the Bonanno family
after Joe Massino's arrest.
Basciano and his crew
were unaware
that Joe Massino had flipped.
As far as they were concerned,
it was still business as usual.
They had no clue
that from here on out,
every move that they made,
every law that they broke,
would be reported back
to the federal government
by the boss himself.
Vinny took the reins
of the family.
Vinny made some decisions
on his own.
And Vinny told the guys,
"Listen, at the end of the day,
"Joe's our boss. He's our boss.
I follow him,
My loyalty's with Joe."
NARRATOR: Vinny Basciano
looked up to Massino,
and as underboss,
kept him in the loop
of all that went on
in the street
while Joe was in prison.
Basciano had a problem,
he was to let Joe know about it.
But like any other wiseguy,
Basciano was eager
to prove himself.
So, when an issue arose
in the ranks
in the form of Randy Pizzolo,
Basciano decided
to make a move on his own.
DOMINICK: Randy Pizzolo
was an associate
with the Bonanno crime family.
Young and wild guy,
who just overstepped
his bounds one too many times.
He was kind of a loudmouth.
He was kind of a screw up.
He had done some things
that had irritated Basciano.
And Basciano
was very much a guy
that you did not want
to mess with.
DOMINICK: Vinny said,
"Dom, take him out."
Technically,
Vinny was supposed to go
to Joe Massino about that.
Vinny said,
"No, I'm acting boss."
[thunder rumbles]
Anybody asks, even Joe asks,
"I don't know
what you're talking about.
Wasn't us.
Why would I k*ll somebody?"
When he was hit,
he was found in Greenpoint,
Brooklyn...
lying by his car.
[eerie string music]
If you're involved
with a homicide
and you get away with it,
you're supposed to act
like it never happened.
And you'll never get arrested.
So, you should
never talk about it.
If someone brings it
to your attention,
"I don't know
what you're talking about.
Are you out of your mind?
I would never do that."
MIKE: I think how dumb
the Pizzolo m*rder was.
That really was
a reckless move by them.
It's sort of that paradox,
like you need guys like Basciano
for people
to be afraid of them.
But on the flip side,
then they go
and do something like that
and it kind of
undoes the leadership
and sets them back
quite a bit.
That was part
of my downfall.
If everybody just followed
the code to begin with,
that life
would've been a lot tighter.
It would have worked out if
Vinny kept his big mouth shut.
NARRATOR: Just a few months
after Joe Massino's
conviction in 2004,
his own acting boss
Vinny Basciano,
was arrested
on a RICO charge
for gambling
and attempted m*rder.
So by early 2005,
the two Bonanno leaders
were housed in the same prison,
MDC Brooklyn.
One, the Boss
of the family
who was also
a secret government witness.
The other, the acting boss,
the second in command.
Clueless as ever
that his revered leader
has switched teams.
With prosecutors
still contemplating
Massino's cooperation,
and Massino aware of some big
Bonanno happenings,
The Last Don
saw an opening
for one final play
to save himself.
EDWARD: Joe Massino says,
"Well, I got some more
information I got to tell you."
I said, "What's that?"
And he said, "Vinnie Basciano,
Vinny Gorgeous is incarcerated
at the MDC.
And I get out
once a day for exercise
and some days
he's in the same
exercise yard as me.
And he's telling me
he wants to k*ll Greg."
Greg Andres, who was the chief
prosecutor on the case.
And I went,
"You've got to be kidding me."
He's, "No, I'm serious.
He wants to k*ll Greg."
So Joey's taken
to another room,
and I meet with the boss
and with Greg Andres,
and I tell him
what Joe said.
And the two of them look at me
and go, "That's [bleep]."
They didn't believe it
for an instant.
They thought
that Joe was lying.
Two weeks later,
they bring Joey over again.
He said,
"I'll wear a wire.
Put a wire in my boot,
I know this guy
is gonna incriminate himself."
So they said, "Okay."
[machine buzzing]
SALLET:
Sure enough, Vinny Gorgeous
talks about k*lling Greg.
It's not crystal clear,
not crystal clear enough
to support
his prosecution for that.
But it was clear enough
to the satisfaction
of the U.S. Attorneys' Office
and the FBI
that he was looking
to k*ll Greg Andres.
And he implicates himself
in the m*rder of Randy Pizzolo.
NARRATOR: Over
the course of two meetings
with Vinny Basciano
in January, 2005,
Joe Massino wore a wire
and pushed
his underling to say
as many incriminating things
as possible.
It was Joe's
last shot at freedom.
And he knew Basciano had ordered
the m*rder of Randy Pizzolo...
[thunder rumbling]
...so he asked him about it.
So they're talking, Joe said,
"What happened here?
I see this kid, Randy,
got k*lled."
Vinny said,
"Dominick took care of it."
And I'm like...
"You gotta be kidding me.
Why are you gonna
throw me under the bus?
You k*lled
over a dozen people.
Like, I don't hear you
talking about those murders.
But you're talking about me."
NARRATOR: The Massino recordings
shocked the underworld.
In the aftermath,
Dominick Cicale
and Vinny Basciano were charged
with the m*rder
of Randy Pizzolo.
Cicale turned state's witness.
Basciano got a life sentence.
Both men
caught in the blast
after Joe Massino betrayed
his oath of Omertà and flipped.
The first boss of one
of New York's Five Families
ever to do so.
DOMINICK:
I would say the best way
I could justify it is,
Vinny was
such in awe with Joe.
Like, Joe was
this big figure,
this God of mafiosos,
that he loved
the guy that much.
[Italian guitar music]
To save his own life,
he became a squealer.
The person
who at one point
had revived
the Bonanno family
was responsible
for almost destroying it.
MIKE: Massino
did damage on a macro level.
That has to be a demoralizing
thing for the family.
MIKE: You have all of the things
the mafia preaches
about loyalty and honor
and "the life,"
as they call it,
and the rules
that they follow.
Not cooperating
is a big part of that.
But many of these guys,
not all of them,
when push comes to shove,
they're going to look out
for themselves.
And so I think
when a boss does that,
it has to have
a downstream effect
that is demoralizing.
[tense music]
NARRATOR: In 2005,
established the Commission,
Joseph Massino became
the first boss
of one of New York's
Five Families
to break the golden rule.
Betray his family.
Betray Omertà.
It marked
the end of the Bonanno's
as we knew them.
All of the families
for that matter.
Those who survived the life
were now left to reckon
with this new reality.
DOMINICK: Joe Massino
took this family
and put it back down
as the lowest family
by becoming the first mafia boss
in history to cooperate.
PAUL: The prosecutor
called me one day
and asked me if I would go
into the program
to get out of prison
to be with my family.
And I said, "Whatever gets me
back to be with my family."
The marshals picked me up.
They bring me
to an apartment for a month,
and they're trying
to erase your life
and give you
new names and identity.
♪♪
They put me in Memphis
when they finally let me out.
I kept asking,
"When can I get out of here?
I can't set up
my life in Memphis."
And then one day I asked him,
he goes, "If you want to--
if you want to move,
go and move."
♪♪
I didn't realize
at this point
that Joe Massino
decided to cooperate
so I'm forgotten
about by now.
I literally told the marshal
I-- I want my name back.
We flew out to Arizona
and within seven days
we bought a house,
moved everything out here,
and we started our lives here.
RICHARD: I had no fear.
I was in Manhattan,
because I did
the last three or four months
in the MCC.
I went to court, and the judge,
"Okay, you're a free man."
I-- I wasn't free
sentence wise
because they could have
locked me up any time.
This FBI agent,
I met him downstairs.
He took me in the car.
I couldn't wait
to get on the plane.
I think the plane
was five o'clock at night.
And I landed
here in Phoenix.
And at that time,
for some reason,
your family
couldn't wait for you
when you got
right off the plane.
So now I don't know
where to go.
I know
no phone numbers, nothing.
All of a sudden
I hear on a loudspeaker--
Now, remember, I'm cooperating.
"Uh, Richard Cantarella.
Richard Cantarella.
Your family
is waiting for you
in such and such location."
[mellow guitar music]
NARRATOR: After cooperating
with the government,
and testifying
against their family,
Joe Massino and Sal Vitale
also entered
the witness protection program.
Massino died in September
of 2023 at 80 years old.
Vitale remains
in the program as of 2023.
Look, should somebody do more
than nine years in prison
for k*lling eight people
and running
an organized crime family?
Yeah, but you have to look
at the big picture.
One of the arguments
I made is that
"Look, this is the guy
who's the poster boy
for getting
other people to cooperate."
If Joe Massino,
with all these murders,
can cooperate and get out
of jail in-- in 10 years,
the next guy who's
thinking about is going to say,
"Hey, Joe Massino
can get out.
So I can cooperate, too,
and I can get out."
It was almost like PR
for the Justice Department.
Does this mean that the mob as
we know it is effectively dead?
No, anytime something
like this happens,
you hear this is the final nail
in the coffin.
And I don't think
that's the case.
Kind of like Humpty Dumpty
after
he fell off the wall.
You just can't put it
back together again.
Massino was trying to put it
back together the old way,
with Omertà, with the code
of silence, with secrecy.
And the new generation
of mobsters,
they want to be
celebrity gangsters,
very much
in that Gotti mode.
What's the point
of being a gangster
if nobody knows
who you are?
Massino was
an old-time guy,
make money,
don't make headlines.
But I think the mob
is into the next generation
and it doesn't know
how to do that anymore.
By that point,
by the point of Joe Massino,
the whole thing
was ruined.
It's a socioeconomic change
as much as anything.
Once upon a time
Italian-Americans
produced singers,
middleweight boxers,
and they produced gangsters.
Well, today, there are
not many Italian singers
and there are almost
no Italian middleweights.
And really,
they stopped, you know,
producing gangsters, too.
So now we're almost
as boring as everybody else.
RICHARD: I wish
I was back in the life,
but maybe I'm better off.
God works in strange ways.
He did give me a second chance.
We all live in beautiful homes.
We got businesses out here.
Would I want
to be back in the life, yes.
Would I want to be
confronted with the stress,
of God forbid,
getting arrested, no.
So I got mixed emotions,
to be honest with you.
DOMINICK: I would have to say
I went in with blinders.
And I should have
realized this from the guys
who I did time with
in jail,
especially some
of the old timers
who have forgotten about.
Because Omertà is not only
a code of silence,
it's respect,
it's honoring one another.
It's being there
for your brother.
That word to me is BS.
There is no code.
There is no code.
MICHAEL: I knew how
destructive that life could be.
I saw my mother,
My whole family
was destroyed.
My sister died young
of an overdose of drugs.
My brother was a drug addict
for most of his life.
He eventually went into
the witness protection program,
became a--
an informant himself.
Every family of every member
of this life is destroyed.
-MAN: Is that correct?
-JOE VALACHI: That's right.
As the senator put it before,
what did I get out of it?
-MAN: What did you get out?
-Nothing but misery.
NARRATOR: It's been
more than 60 years
since Joe Valachi
took the stand.
Almost two decades
since Joe Massino
betrayed his oath.
The families
have been crippled
by a continued wave
of successful prosecutions.
These days, we don't see
public mafia slayings
in streets...
or mobsters
on the cover of magazines.
But the Five Families
still exist.
Even if their oath
and their rules
haven taken a new shape.
The best way
of describing the mafia
in the 21st century
is that it's wounded,
but not fatally.
The mafia modeled itself
on capitalism.
If you can fault America,
it's because it's desire
to be wealthy.
If you want to blame anybody,
you can blame capitalism...
and admiration in America
for wealth.
What works for America
will work
for the Five Families.
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