Divine Retribution? Mobster Saved by Grace

By Stephen DiCenso

Stephen “Stevie” DiCenso was a member of the Mafia’s renegade faction in Greater Boston in the 1990s. The crimes he committed were the most notorious at the time. He was connected to a crew that robbed and kidnapped drug dealers and sold drugs. The boss's nephew would be named in the vicious murder of infamous Mafia informant Whitey Bulger. Stevie was the lowest of lowlifes who hit rock bottom, even flat-lining for several minutes after OD’ing on heroin. He didn’t die because God had a plan for his life.
Divine Retribution? is the incredible redemption story of how Stevie’s life was turned upside down and then right side up. Despite a dysfunctional home environment, wrong associations, terrible choices, lifelong immoral habits, addictions, and harsh criminal activity, God’s mercy and grace did what nothing else could—all within prison walls. Stevie’s life is a testimony to the power of God’s forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen DiCenso
• Release date: Oct 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005440619

Stephen DiCenso

Former mobster spends fifteen years in federal prison for an unspeakable crime. During that time, He asked God to forgive him but still can't receive it. He didn't feel worthy enough to be forgiven. However, God's mercy and grace did what nothing and nobody else could --- all behind prison walls.

Book preview

Divine Retribution

Copyright 2022 Stephen DiCenso

Published by Stephen DiCenso at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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A true story...

Some names and details have been changed

to protect both the innocent and the guilty alike.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means—whether electronic, digital, mechanical, or otherwise—without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 9798840128046

Cover design by: Nessgraphica

Thank You, Lord Jesus, for creating the Devil.

For if evil didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be where I am in my walk with You.

Table of Contents

1. The Unspeakable

2. Worst Nightmare

3. The Law

4. In Hell

5. Fooled ’em Again

6. Sinful Freedom

7. The Calling

8. Life Worsened

9. Gone Delusional

10. The Vow

11. Indifference Solidified

12. Judgement Day

13. Old Foe

14. Spiritual Training

15. Broken Surrender

16. Answered Prayers

17. The Ending

Chapter 1

The Unspeakable

Kevin and Dino gathered all the bags as I dragged two branches crosswise over Tiffany’s shallow grave. I walked away, making the sign of the cross. Rest in peace, my friend.

Kevin flung the shovel into the nearby pond.

Dino opened his trunk. Kevin pointed at some blood in the wheel well. We need to clean that out, he said.

Dino smirked. I know the perfect place with no employees to spot us.

Kevin and I followed him to a self-serve car wash close to a mall. We pulled up next to a dumpster. The three of us chucked empty cigarette cartons into the trash bin along with a box to a police scanner. While clearing out the trash and lime bags, a patrol car crept past.

Kevin scoped out our mud-caked clothes; then he looked at me and said, Go to the mall and buy three pairs of sneakers and sweatsuits.

As I jogged toward a department store, I glanced back and saw Dino spraying the trunk with a pressure hose. Whoever he borrowed that car from isn’t gonna be happy.

Minutes before closing, I followed the signs along the ceiling to the shoe department. First, I grabbed three pairs of sneakers. Then I made my way to a rack of clothes with sweatsuits on it. At the register, my favorite drink called out from a beverage refrigerator. I nodded to it. Ring one of them up as well.

The clerk supplied two receipts. But the one for the iced tea went into my wallet.

I exited the store and chilled inside the glass foyer for a moment, enjoying the refreshing tea. What did I get myself into? My mind wandered.

I thought back to how I got here. Dad had spent too much time with alcohol and cocaine to act like a father. Plus, he was brutal with his words. All the abuse inflicted throughout my formative years fueled my strong desire for respect. Then there was the car wreck.

A month after high school graduation, my friend was driving. He crashed because he was distracted looking at three girls who shook their booties down the road. My head slammed into the windshield. Unconscious and bloody, I had to be extracted by the Jaws of Life. That blow damaged my frontal lobe, resulting in altered behavior. That’s when I started having suicidal thoughts and extreme rage. And my reasoning plummeted. I viewed the working man as a sucker. Greed and my love for the almighty dollar jammed me up.

Kevin and Dino pulled up while I was tossing the muddied sneakers into the garbage with the receipt. I handed Dino his new getup and then got into Kevin’s rental. We couldn’t burn the thing, Kevin said softly.

Why not? I asked.

A pig drove by and was staring, then pulled into the parking lot across from us! I jabbed the dashboard. Kevin glanced at the mirror. Let’s get out of here, he said.

I looked back at the road behind us. It’s cool, I said. The cops aren’t on to us. Then I turned toward Kevin. So what? Wait a little while and go back to burn it?

Kevin’s brow raised. Are you out of your mind? Go back? For what? To get caught?

I looked at him sideways. To get rid of the evidence!

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. If we go back and that pig spots us again, whaddaya think’s gonna happen if they find all that sh** in there?

Yeah, you’re right. It pained me to admit I might’ve been wrong.

We arrived at our designated meeting spot. Big Tony held court at the dining room table. He often bragged about first learning to kill at age sixteen in the Vietnam War. But now in his late thirties, this charismatic leader in the rebellion against the Boston Mafia’s hierarchy recruited nine soldiers—all with Italian blood—who were loyal to his cause. All the cards fell into place when my godfather named me at my baptism. My path was set.

During that time, my customers needed more drugs. I had already approached Big Tony at the gym. Big Tony dressed to impress, flaunting a collection of $2,000 suits, and drove a luxury automobile. His charm fooled many ladies. It appeared Big Tony violated his cardinal rule that nobody does hard drugs. His jaw moved 100 miles per hour. What happened? he asked when we walked in.

Kevin’s arms raised then collapsed. It’s done.

Big Tony sprang from the head chair. He brought me aside and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Are you okay?

Yeah.

I’m a little concerned because I know she’s your friend.

It was kind of cool.

Big Tony’s eyeballs ballooned. What was?

The whole thing.

He grinned at the thought of my honoring his orders and La Cosa Nostra (which means our thing in English) above friendship.

Big Tony shoved a hand into his pocket. Did you take care of them for their work yet?

No.

Pay them for me.

I yanked out a bankroll and tossed it over.

Big Tony provided his soldiers a salary each week, except for the earners—those soldiers who could move a lot of product. Whenever anyone pulled off a score, he distributed a fair share of the profits to all.

I returned home and collapsed on the bed. I slept as if in a coma. After a few hours, my hand smacked me in the forehead. Shut up! I yelled. Damn beeper. I held it up and sighed. Big Tony was blowing me up with 911s. Time to rise and shine and check in with him.

When I got to Big Tony’s he was dressed in his typical casual attire—black gym shorts and a white wife-beater. He was pacing back and forth, ranting and raving. Our sloppy work the night before set him ablaze. A dumpster diver had discovered everything. It was all over the news and Big Tony demanded answers.

After a while, he just mumbled.

I pulled out the heroin. Here.

Big Tony stopped mumbling and said, Whaddaya want me to do with that?

Figured you might want it back.

He tilted his head and ordered me to leave. "Whaddaya want me to do with it?" I asked.

Go do it yourself for all I care!

I stormed out and through the garage door. Dino and Kevin were conversing out front. My blood was boiling. I was pissed at Dino for saying that I should’ve been the one to die. I steamed around the driveway’s retaining wall. My eyes were locked onto Dino.

Kevin saw my rage and jumped in my path.

Get out of the way! I yelled as I clenched my fists.

He tried reassuring me we were all on the same team. I paid him no mind and berated his boy. You mothef***er! I shouted. I’ll kill you!

Come on, Dino gestured. I’ll beat your ass!

Kevin jammed a hand in between my pecs but couldn’t hold me. Get in the car! he hollered at Dino.

Reluctantly, he did, and they took off.

Dino was mistaken. Big Tony should’ve been the one to die, not me.

We all knew Tiffany liked cocaine along with its potential to make people ramble. Yet nine days ago, Big Tony had handed his nephew and me a load and instructed us to store it at her apartment. Tiff and I went way back but I hadn’t crossed paths with her in years. She came from a broken home and ran away, which resulted in her spending time in foster care. One day I spotted Tiff at a sporting goods store and did a double take. She sold me a pair of sneakers. When Tiff revealed she didn’t earn a commission, I slipped her a crisp hundred-dollar bill. We met that night. After commenting about her weight loss, Tiff informed me she liked the yayo (cocaine). Tiff also stated she hustled to pay her share of the rent. I proposed to cover that bill if she allowed me to stash whatever in her place. Tiff agreed. That’s how our loads ended up at her place.

The night it all went down I had flipped open an anonymous burner phone, glanced at the date, November 5, 1996, and then called to inform her. Hey, Tiff, it’s Steve. Before she could answer, some chump snatched the receiver from her hand to talk smack.

Big Tony’s nephew Little Tony and I hopped into a rental car. We sped to Medford. I was antsy and kept my pistol cocked and the safety off. As we coasted into the parking lot, our eyes fixated on a black van with the word POLICE printed on the side. I parked around back, adjacent to a field, and shoved the coke and gun under the seat. We rushed around front and then strolled into the foyer and boarded an elevator. I mashed the button to the level below Tiffany’s floor. When the door opened, I held it while scanning the area. I handed Little Tony the car keys, and he placed them inside the hallway light fixture by the elevator. Little Tony was known as a Pitt Bull, as was his brother Little Mario, because of their viciousness. Little Tony’s chiseled jaw made him look fierce. (Years later he would be indicted for his role in the slaying of a notorious Irish crime boss in prison.)

We got back in the elevator and took it up one more floor where we went to Tiff’s apartment. We knocked on her door. A massive police officer whipped it open and stood in our faces. He pointed at us both and asked, Which one of you is the tough guy who gave me his name on the phone?

I snickered. That was me.

This goliath insisted we enter.

Tiff twirled her long blonde hair and peered at the table as an officer interrogated her. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms separated us into different rooms. Agent Shapiro sported a mullet—a hairdo I wore in junior high. He searched my pockets. Why do you have two beepers? he asked.

One’s for work; the other’s for play.

What do you do for work?

I’m a personal trainer. Big Tony owned a gym—a base of operation where he laundered money by handing out free lifetime memberships to every female who caught his eye. He justified his cash (or washed his ill-gotten gains) by claiming all these women paid to join the gym. This kept the feds at bay. He had advised I use that as my occupation in case the law ever wanted to verify it.

What do you mean by play?

I gestured. You know, the girls.

Where did you get all the money?

I sold my car.

Are you her boyfriend?

I laughed. No.

How do you know her?

She hung out with my ex-girlfriend, Chary, a few years ago.

You know, she had a lot of guys calling her since we’ve been here? Agent Shapiro eyeballed me.

What can I say? She’s a popular girl.

Why was it so important to get here?

Like you said, she had a lot of guys calling her, and I wanted to be the one to take her out tonight.

How did you get here?

Walked.

You expect me to believe that?

I live down the street.

Whereabouts?

Stanley Avenue.

Your ID says Stoneham.

Yeah, I haven’t made it to the Registry yet.

Hmm… Do you know anything about these weapons we found under her bed?

No.

Wait here. I’ll be right back.

I crept up and planted an ear against the door. Agent Shapiro compared stories with his colleague. I pumped a fist upon hearing Little Tony say we walked here too. Agent Shapiro returned. Okay, you’re free to leave. And don’t forget to have your address changed!

I glided out of her roommate’s bedroom. Hell yeah! I’m not going to prison tonight!

Several officers sorted through the weapons.

Tiffany provided a statement. I approached and caressed her shoulder. I’ll talk to you later.

We bolted down the stairs. Little Tony ran behind. What about the car?

We haveta leave it. We’ll send someone for it later.

Okay. How we gonna get back?

We’ll call the gym from a pay phone.

Once outside, I pointed at the upper floors. Can you see anybody in those dark windows up there?

No.

Well, if anyone’s up there, they can sure see us.

Oh, gotcha.

We continued along until out of sight, then dashed to Mystic Avenue.

Little Tony dialed the gym. His sister, Margret, answered. He demanded she pick us up. After a pause, he cussed Margret out, slammed the phone down, and raised a fist. She hung up.

Call back, I demanded.

Little Tony did. Let me talk to uncle, he said when she answered.

Margret’s demeanor must have changed because he hung up and said she was on her way. When she arrived, we jumped in the car. She spun toward her brother and asked, What the hell’s going on?

Little Tony told her the whole story.

Margret threw the car into gear. Sorry, I thought you were messing around when you wouldn’t tell me.

What does uncle tell us? Never talk business over the phone!

Stop by my house, I interrupted. I need to get some sh** out before the law shows up.

Margret drove halfway down Fredrick Avenue.

I directed her to pull over, then cut through the yard, hopped the fence, and scaled the porch. Police are gonna be all over the place. I bowed my head and offered a short prayer. Please!

Not an officer was in sight.

I rushed into my bedroom, grabbed my steroids and most of my pills. I tossed everything into my gym bag. Then I lifted the mattress and tucked a .45 caliber hand cannon into my waistband and high-tailed it back to the car.

We need to stop by my friend’s place in Stoneham, I told Margaret as I jumped into the back.

Margret drove to Stoneham and parked in the rear lot at his condominium.

My friend was known as the Flying Hawaiian because he snorted a ton of cocaine every night, but I trusted him. He was loyal to me after my steel-toed boots rearranged a deadbeat’s face who owed him some money. I quickly handed him the bag then got back into the car. Margret sped to the designated meeting spot. It was a big Victorian-style house.

Big Tony stood in the doorway when we pulled up. He ordered all our weapons buried, so I forked over my gun. Then Big Tony sent Dino and me to retrieve Tiffany. I paged her and she sent me back a code signifying she was at her boyfriend’s place in Somerville. Dino dropped me off at the top of the street. I handed him my coat and hat, using him as a decoy to figure out if the police were onto us. I had called ahead and told her we’d come by and get her.

We took her to a hotel room Big Tony had secured. Then we met up with Big Tony in the parking lot. He sent a menacing enforcer with a degree in intimidation to interrogate Tiffany. But Tiff denied telling a soul about the arsenal.

Big Tony waited inside a car. He issued orders through the window to Kevin, Dino, and me. Keep her away from the law, he demanded. She’s your responsibility because she’s your friend, he told me.

After everyone left, I entered the room. Tiff’s eyes were red. She squeezed her hands together to keep them from shaking and kept asking me what was going to happen to her. I never answered her.

We remained at that dive for the night and moved to an even worse motel the next day.

Finally, Big Tony sent Dino to fetch us. Big Tony devised a plan. He told her he needed her to get out of the city to give him time to contact his attorneys. He said he wanted her to go to New York City and would give her a $10,000 stipend for a shopping spree. Tiff’s face lit up, and she turned to me and asked, Will you be with me?

Big Tony interjected, Who do you want to go with you?

Steve! she exclaimed.

I smiled, masking my real emotions, feeling cold-blooded.

Big Tony took me outside where he listed off his orders: Take her out, spend some money, have a good time, but most of all keep an eye on her.

Will do, I confirmed.

Get a good feel for her. Make sure if the law pressures her, she’ll remain solid.

Okay.

Big Tony phoned Fat T, an associate for one of his limousines. He arrived in an hour or so. Big Tony chose Giovanni, a stocky earner to chauffeur Tiffany and me. We climbed in, and Giovanni drove us the couple hours to New York where he dropped us at a fancy hotel in the core of Times Square.

Tiff blew an absurd amount of cash over four days. Whatever she wanted, she grabbed—clothes, shoes, make-up, pocketbooks, and drinks. We even caught a movie, visited the Empire State Building, and strolled in Central Park.

During it all Tiff kept asking about her well-being. I evaded as much as I could and groaned deep within my gut. At one point, I just flat-out lied. I’ll purchase a private island and ship you there.

One night Tiff snuck out. I found out later she phoned her boyfriend and told him she didn’t expect to return from New York.

When we were finally ready to go home, I called Giovanni from a pay phone to ask for a ride. His response pissed me off, and I hammered the receiver against the base.

Tiffany gawked. What did he say?

Take a bus!

I phoned my sister in Boston and asked if I could borrow her truck. She consented, so I tried hailing a cab. Every taxi passed by me, so I told Tiff to hail one. On her first try the driver slammed on the brakes. We jammed all the bags into the trunk. When we got to our destination I reached into my jeans, pulled out a bankroll, and handed the cabbie a huge tip.

What about your change?" he asked in a Pakistani accent.

Keep it.

Thank you, sir.

At the top of the stairs, I turned toward Tiff. Wait here, I said. I’ll be right out.

She shivered. It’s cold out here.

I said I’ll be right out.

Okay.

I went inside to get the keys to my sister’s truck. Both my sister and her spouse offered me something to eat and drink. I’m all set. I need to run.

Sis frowned. I never see you anymore, she complained.

I have someone outside waiting for me.

Who is it?

My girlfriend, I said without thinking. Big Tony had warned me before departing for New York, Don’t let anyone see you together when you get back.

Sis’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. Invite her in! I wanna meet her!

No. She’s being a bitch.

Sis forked over the keys and when I made my way out, she peeked out the window.

I drove to the meeting spot and parked on the grass behind some trees. I left the engine running and as I stepped out the door I said, I’ll be a few minutes.

What are you going to do?

I’m gonna find out what our lawyers said.

Everybody was present except Little Mario due to his drying out

Reviews for Divine Retribution? Mobster Saved by Grace

[steviedxyz · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Wow! What a powerful story of redemption. I was blown away! I can see a movie made out of it!!