Honor thy father by Gay Talese

Author:Gay Talese
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Organized Crime, Murder, True Crime, Crime and criminals, General, Bonanno family, Serial Killers, Mafia
Publisher: World Pub.
Published: 1971-09-15T06:36:40.281000+00:00

Bill’s father later sent word from East Meadow that Bill was to remain in Tucson and under no conditions was he to return to New York. The rumor circulating was that Bill was the next target. The Di Gregorio gang’s top triggerman, Frank Mari—the one who had led the Troutman Street ambush—had been spotted a few days ago sitting in a parked car with two other men, all three carrying guns; and it was believed that Mari had had the contract to dispose of Perrone.

The newspapers, quoting the police, said that Perrone’s murder was partly in reprisal for the shooting earlier in the month of an officer in Di Gregorio’s group, Peter Crociata, who survived even though he had been hit by six bullets as he parked his car near his Brooklyn home.

The death of Perrone was extremely painful for Bill. The newspapers described Perrone as his bodyguard and chauffeur, but Perrone had been much more than that. Since the death of Frank Labruzzo, Perrone had been his closest friend and companion, a man his own age with whom he had communicated easily, whose humor he had enjoyed, and whom he had trusted absolutely. It was Perrone who had driven to Bill’s rescue on the night of the Troutman Street shooting, and now that Perrone had been murdered Bill felt personally responsible for avenging the death. He was strongly tempted to disobey his father and return to New York. He stayed up all night in his father’s home, pacing the room like a wild creature in a cage, swearing, vowing, sobbing softly.

He was still visibly distraught on the following day, as his uncle and Peter Notaro tried to calm him down, saying at 1:30 P.M. that the FBI was at the door wishing to speak with him. Bill yelled to Notaro to tell the agents to go around to the back door. Then, rising from his chair in the living room, Bill walked through the house to the yard, where, after opening the back door gate, he saw two men wearing suits and ties, seeming very officious. Bill invited them into the patio and asked them to be seated. The taller agent, who introduced himself as David Hale, began abruptly, “Well, I see your friend got it.”

Bill glared at him. “Are you gentlemen here on official business,”he asked, sarcastically, “or is this a social call?”

“You know damned well we’re here on official business,” Hale said.

“Look you son of a bitch,” Bill said, standing up, pointing a finger down at Hale, “either you’re going to conduct yourself properly, or you’re going to get the hell out of here right now!”

Hale looked hard at Bonanno, turned to the other agent, who said nothing, then looked back toward Bonanno. Hale then asked, more softly, “Well, are you going to be rushing back to New York?”

“I’m going back to New York when I feel like it,” Bill said, sharply, and after that he refused to say much of anything, professing ignorance to the questions or saying he would have to consult with his attorney before replying.

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