The Sicilian Don

Part 1

They entered the room just inside the restaurant unable to see further than two or three feet in front of themselves, only the flickering light of candles and the sweet smell of his cigar were there to lead them. It was almost five minutes before anyone spoke; it was the consigliere Vincenzo DeVicchi.

In a voice so low, that the creaking of the canopy almost drowned him out said "I'm sure you know why you've been called upon."

"We do", the two button-men replied, "but why at such a late hour?"

"I'll fuckin bust your heads in, you pieces of shit!" "How dare you question…"

"Predila come viene nipote."

"They come here questioning you uncle and you want me to take it easy?"

"They come here at four in the morning, they come prepared to work, yet you get angry, you want to yell and put on a show. But why, for whom are you showing off? Sometimes Vincenzo, I think you're too much like your father, a good man but not a real Sicilian; why my sister had to marry someone from Travisso I'll never understand. It would have broke my mother's heart, God rest her soul."

"You're right il Capo," "I'm sorry I will do better to control it."

"Now mi amico fidatos il affari, I want you to follow my son everywhere he goes, I want you to watch him and make sure he does good."

Then the smile that my father always had on quickly disappeared, and it was then that I learned my father had two very different personalities. The fun-loving, seemingly carefree man I knew and Il Capo, the very stern leader of Il Famiglia Allargata or our crime family. While being a boss he referred to a lot of things by their Italian names like affari, which means duties. He said that was a way to tell the genuine from the attore (actors). It was also this day I learned what our business really was and what my roles were going to be. I was to become il capitano d'industria or the business leader of our grape import company. With our wine company being the backbone of our industry and me being only sixteen I was given only titular command for my first five years.

It was now 1963 and at twenty-one I was finally beginning to gain full control of the company, Paulie and Dimitrius my fathers two most trusted button-men were finally beginning to back off. If only I could get that pig shit of a cop, Sgt. Donny Prezzioso off my ass I'd be great. You would think he cut a little slack to a fellow Sicilian.

My father would always say " he's only one cop just ignore him, he won't do anything unless provoked, he knows better. I said one day that we should just push a button on him, but papa didn't seem too happy about that idea. I understood; the heat that would come from a hit on a cop would be relentless. I just shrugged it off and went back to running numbers, which I also began doing this year. My father was beginning to place a lot more responsibility on me. An example of this was on an occasion just after my twenty-second birthday, my father called me into his office to tell me that a good friend of his needed a favor and he wanted me to take care of it. It was this job with Tom Giovanni that complicated things for me, for the rest of my life. I should have just told him no, but of course I couldn't do that, I told papa I'd take care of it, so I did. It was two years after that the problems began.

It was a quiet night in December of 1965; and everything was normal or so it seemed. Tom was on his way out the door when the glass at the top of the door began to rattle. He looked up and saw Don Rocco's personal Boeing 737 flying over quite low. Just as he finished looking at the plane his phone began to ring, he hurried inside to answer it but was too late and the machine had gotten it.

"Mr. Giovanni, this is the FBI, we're sending two agents to your home right now. Our surveillance team just saw you in our fly over sir, we know you're there."

"Shit, it wasn't the Don it was the FBI that flew over, they must know. I gotta get out of here!" Just as he was running down the walk to get away he collided with one of the agents, Sr. agent Dan Grieves.

"Don't try to run Mr. Giovanni, just go back in your house," said Grieves

"Yes, we just want to ask you a few questions," said agent Jeff Burrows

All three men went into the house. While all of this was happening, I was watching on the monitor that I had rigged in his house. I had it put there because I thought he was a rat. Just cuz papa trusts him doesn't mean that I have to. The first question they asked was by agent Burrows.

"So Mr. Giovanni, do you know anything about the disappearance of a young lady named Angela Davis?"

"I don't even know who she is," replied Tom, "how would I know anything?"

"Mr. Giovanni, she was a sixteen year old junior in high school who was pregnant with your baby before being brutally murder! Now you better start talking pretty fast or your going to jail for suspected homicide."

"Then take me in," he yelled, "I said I don't know anything"

The two agents took him down to the 8th district station and booked him on grounds of suspected wrongdoing in the case of a Miss Angela Davis. The family lawyer Vito Bouincontro arrived within an hour to get him released due to an insufficient amount of evidence to hold him. Though everything looked like it would become manageable now; things took a complete turn when a journal was found in Tom's bedroom nightstand. Though the journal wouldn't beable to use them in court they did contain enough information to cause significant problems for many of the family. The journal contained his daily activities for the past seven years. Some of it's contents were his daily affairs with Angela, which started when she was eating at his deli one day and forgot her jacket and ended with her telling him she was pregnant. He then began to narrate his plans on how he would free himself of this problem. He even went so far as to write, that he was going to solicit the help of the DeSanto family. There was no choice left, Giovanni would have to get whacked.

I called Frankie the Hands and told him our situation, I said, "make sure he knows why he's getting erased then tell someone to push a button."

"I'll do it myself, with my hands, just like I used to" exclaimed Frankie

"Exactly, used to Frankie," I said admonishingly, "but now you're much more important, you're this family frontline enforcer. Not an everyday buttonman."

"Ok Donny," he nodded approvingly, "you're right, I get someone on it right away."

As I was leaving the library, which was where I liked to hold my meetings, I ran into Sgt. Prezzioso. He was being his usual self a complete jerk but I proceeded to continue walking until he yelled out.

"You need to do your business somewhere else." This wouldn't have normally bothered me so much but due to the day I'd been having I just exploded and yelled.

"One day you pig-fuck I'll erase your ass." This proved to be another harmful mistake. It was probably only one or two weeks later, but it felt like a year the way he had me brewing with hatred, he came into Tom's deli. The deli was now being run by the family and I saw an opportunity to erase him cleanly. He ordered a pastrami sandwich on rye with mustard and fontina cheese. When preparing the sandwich I mixed two grams of MDMA and ten Viagra with the mustard before spreading it on. That combination, coupled with a double shot of Sambuvca in his coffee and us keeping him in the backroom until he passed out was certainly what spelled and end for our friend the cop. I was so proud that I had finally done it. I wiped out that cop and it won't bring any heat on this family; it just looked like he had a drug overdose probably with hookers since that was the part of town they found him in.

The only thing I couldn't figure out was why papa seemed very upset now. I heard him saying to Vincenzo to find out who sold him the drugs, what doctor prescribed the Viagra, who was the hooker he was with?

I heard him yell, "Cerca il campo, I want them all dead!" "Everyone connected to his death, dead. I don't care who they are senators, judges, you for all I care…"

"Il Capo please, I would know better than to kill a cop."

" He was more than a cop, he was my brother. Though he left, changed his name to our mama's maiden name, and became a cop. He's still my brother." "Riposare in pace con Dio mia madre," "I will avenge his death."

I knew then that my life would never be the same again. I wish I had not been so hotheaded, I should have told papa what I was going to do. I knew he wouldn't approve so I didn't ask. I don't know what to do now, I'll just have to go and tell him.

It was two day before I could get up the courage to tell him. I said, "Papa I must tell you of a grievous miscalculation that I've made." "Papa, please forgive me, I didn't know."

"My son," he replied, "have you come here to tell me what something, that I don't want to know?"

"Yes father, I've come to tell you that it was me that killed your brother." "Me papa, but I didn't know!"

"Perche lo sofferenzami mio figlio."

"No papa," "I meant to cause you no distress, please papa forgive me."

It was too late though he had already turned away; it was almost three day before I saw him come out of his office. I knew I was in grave danger, papa only said "perche lo sofferenzami" when he meant for someone to be rubbed out. I wouldn't be that worried but my father is a dedicated man and told his mama that he would avenge this murder.

Today is April 17th, 1966 and it is my first day under protective custody, otherwise known as the witness protection program for the FBI. I didn't know what else to do, if papa wanted me dead then my days were numbered. My only real alternative was to work with the FBI to bring down the DeSanto family and my father with it. At least that is what the FBI thinks; insiders in our family know exactly what I'm doing. And as long as there loyalty to my ideas that my father is too old fashioned to effectively run this family stay strong, and then my plan to take over the family will work flawlessly. Of course to do this a lot of work must be done and a few very important people must be eliminated including my father and Vincenzo his consigliere.

"Let's go Mr. DeSanto, said one of the agents, "we need to talk some more about what we are going to be able to bring them down on."

So for now I have to play along with this charade and make them believe that I am truly sincere about indicting my father.

The End

By

Michael Tuffy