In a New York Split Second

By Gene Murphy

Jack, at a very young age, was left to survive on his own due to a family tragedy. Eventually, his life pulls him back to the Big Apple to find closure and seek revenge. Returning to join New York's finest in 1975, he discovers a city in financial crisis, broken down, and controlled by the Mob. Soon his talents grab the attention of the Organized Crime Control Bureau. He is then thrust together with TJ, a seasoned female officer who is a hard-core New Yorker, beautiful, and brash. They try to infiltrate the underworld of crime as partners, but their relationship becomes serious and complicates the arrangement. Eventually, TJ is urgently needed elsewhere and is transferred to the Son of Sam case that is terrorizing the city. Jack is left to get dirty on his own and struggles with the evil he is becoming a part of. Brought back together for one night, Jack and TJ stumble upon a lead that takes them on a journey through Little Italy. There, with his gun drawn, Jack is unknowingly looking at his nemesis with a gun pointing back at him. In that New York split second, he must decide as they both see their lives flash before their eyes. Then a single gunshot shatters the night.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641146968

Book preview

An Evening on the Town

It was October 18, 1977, in New York City. The Big Apple, rich in history and pageantry, was again on display this evening with the skyline showing off its most famous monolithic landmarks. It was almost time for the city’s nightlife to awaken from its daytime slumber. The Statue of Liberty, looking over Southern Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge, still shining from her centennial makeover, was standing tall and proud. Although the lady sentinel of the harbor had witnessed a year of citywide turmoil, tonight she was hoping to hike up her skirt, kick up her heels, and dance a little this evening in celebration.

Since the early 1970s, the city’s economy was struggling. Its financial crisis hit all departments, including New York’s finest. The police department was crippled by a hiring freeze. New York was slowly being strangled by the lawlessness of the Son of Sam, an overwhelming number of arsons, and the Mob. A cancer called corruption had spread everywhere. There wasn’t a borough or a government office that was not affected by power, money, and deceit.

It was late Tuesday afternoon. TJ and Jack were leaving the Forty-Sixth Precinct in the Bronx. The autumn air was cool. They walked briskly along the street, heading for Jack’s motorcycle. He had the evening planned.

Hurry up! I don’t want to be late! It’s going to be all over except for your whining. We’re going to kick your butt tonight! The excitement of the evening could be detected in her heavy New York accent. She was stubborn, beautiful, and exciting. Though others around her were captivated by the vibrant and gorgeous brunette, it was TJ’s independence and inner strength that were her strongest assets.

We have plenty of time to grab a bite and make it to the game, he replied. Although he was from the West Coast, he was adapting quite well over the last two years. He had chosen a wonderful Italian restaurant not far from their final destination afterward but had not told her yet. It was great having an evening off, and he was wondering where this relationship was going to end up. He was falling for TJ, and he was hoping she was falling for him.

Where are we going to eat? TJ inquired as she was putting on her soup can of a helmet. Am I underdressed for this place? She was wearing a long-sleeve cotton pullover and jeans. The leather jacket complimented the outfit well. She was prepared for the evening, or believed she was as she took one last puff of her cigarette, threw it to the pavement, and snuffed it out with one of her three -inch heel pumps.

Jack hugged her and gave her a passionate kiss and said, We’re heading toward the Bronx Zoo before we head over to the other Bronx Zoo. You look great, absolutely great! Then he straddled his motorcycle and started it while slowly backing it out so that TJ could hop on. We should make excellent time on the bike tonight and not have to worry about parking issues. Hang on and we’ll see who kicks whose butt tonight, he said playfully as he started off down the road with TJ holding tightly around his waist.

They had been working as undercover partners on and off for over a year. After being thrown together from two different precincts, the relationship grew slowly, both professionally and personally. Although, the first time they met over two years before was a unique encounter. It made an impression that neither one would forget. Less than a year later, both of them immediately recognized each other when they were brought together as a team to investigate and prevent organized crime with the OCCB (Organized Crime Control Bureau).

Tina Jo Moretto joined the NYPD back in the late summer of 1973 and had been on several undercover teams because of her knowledge of the city. Earlier in the year, TJ was reassigned to the .44-caliber killer case until the recent capture of David Richard Berkowitz. She and many of the other three hundred working the Son of Sam chapter of their lives could now move back to their other cases.

Jack had been hired as a police officer on August 1, 1975, but was recruited for undercover work shortly after joining the force. He also had an acting background, which was a nice skill to have when you had to pretend to be someone you weren’t.

The journey didn’t take too long as they traveled from the police station off Ryer Avenue to Little Italy in the Bronx. They turned off Webster Avenue and pulled onto E. 187th Street. TJ let out a, I love Italian after they turned onto the one-way street heading down Arthur Avenue.

Jack and TJ easily found a parking spot for his 1975 Honda CB750. It was one of the best investments he’d made since moving to New York as it was great on gas, and he could always find a place to park it in the busy city. They made a handsome young couple strolling hand in hand to the entrance of Mario’s Restaurant, where he had a table for two waiting.

As they entered, the smell of freshly baked bread filled the restaurant. The dining room was in an open area with dimly lit chandeliers. Tables were arranged closely to one another in two- and four-chair configurations. Larger parties just required moving connecting tables together.

Hi, I have a reservation, said Jack. The name is Becker, party of two.

Yes, this way, replied the hostess, guiding them back. She asked if they wanted to hang up their leather jackets. Both declined because they were still wearing their guns underneath, and TJ could be serving extra duty at the end of the World Series in case New York won. Bedlam was expected to break out and add to the woes of the city.

I’m so excited about tonight! TJ exclaimed. Jack had managed to grab tickets to the World Series, where TJ’s Yankees were up three games to two against Jack’s beloved Los Angeles Dodgers.

Well, we’re going to even the series tonight! was Jack’s reply.

Back at Yankee Stadium, the Yankees were on the field warming up. At that moment, New York’s Reggie Jackson had just finished taking batting practice and had hit eighteen balls over the fence. Teammate Willie Randolph told Jackson, Save some of those for the game.

Jackson responded, There are more where those came from.

Both were seated and given menus as Jack ordered the wine. May we have a bottle of Bolla Valpolicella?

After reviewing the menu and making a choice, Jack’s conversation turned to work. I think we’re chasing a ghost! This guy seems to be a legend, almost like a mythical Mafia character. Let’s review this guy they call Bamm-Bamm, okay? It seems our only physical clue is that he has a stocky build and large forearms, but that matches just about any of the dockworkers here in the area.

TJ laid down her menu. Well, his other aliases are ‘the Butcher’ and ‘the Gravedigger,’ and those names paint a grim picture of what we have heard about his reputation as a killer. He has ascended as a captain in the Gambino Mob. He doesn’t have a wife but likes the ladies. That is a little out of the norm since these Mob guys are usually very family oriented.

Yeah, that does seem out of character for a member of the Mob family. I guess his family is the Mob. There is so little we know about him. He may have a family, but he appears to be an angry loner in this family. The Mafia contained family members related both by blood and those outside grafted in to form a much bigger and stronger family.

TJ added, He may be called the Butcher just because he’s in the Gambino family, and they control the meat and construction industries here in New York. Or maybe they call him that because of the way he disposes of his victims. But perhaps he has this moniker because he is an actual butcher? Nah, that’s too obvious.

Just then, the waiter approached the table and offered the green bottle for display. Jack nodded while the corkscrew did its work, and the cork was presented. He politely sniffed and nodded his approval. A small portion was poured into his glass. Gently he picked it up and swirled it around the glass to enhance the aroma of the fruit as he sniffed and tasted. After getting the nod from Jack, the waiter filled their glasses.

Are you ready to order, or would you like some more time?

I’m ready, Jack said, looking at TJ to see if she was ready as well.

Yes, I’ll have your scampi and linguine in the wine sauce.

And you, sir?

I’ll have your lasagna tonight, thanks.

After ordering, TJ continued her rambling thoughts. Maybe he’s a real-life gravedigger, and that’s why we can’t find any of the bodies. What, he has supposedly killed a dozen or more? He doesn’t just kill them and leave the bodies lying around to be found. This guy must take his work seriously. They all just disappear. You know, this is going to be tough to prosecute if we ever catch him.

Yeah, what crime are we going to pin on him when we can’t produce a body?

If we can get close enough and track him, maybe we can see where he goes, and that may lead us to some answers. We have to make sure we capture him alive.

Yeah, dead men don’t talk. But there is also the Omertà. Jack was fully aware of the Mafia’s renowned code of silence that was punishable by death within the family. If one talked or ratted out others, it meant a death sentence in itself. They were supposed to take the full punishment of the crime, even if they were innocent, rather than take a family member down. That too seemed to be legend as informants now facing death sentences in a court of law were choosing to talk and bargain their sentence down. But if we get this guy, we have nothing to hold him on.

That may be true, but we can keep him for forty-eight hours until we have to release him. During that time, we may be able to find out more about this guy.

All right, enough shop talk, injected Jack. So am I taking you back to your car at the station afterward, or are you coming over to my place?

We’ll see how the evening goes and how late the game ends, and if there are any after-game festivities that we have to deal with and decide then. I could be up for a little celebration of our own. But what about your buddy Chris? Is he coming?

Dunno, he’s probably working late like always. You still haven’t met him, have you?

Nope. Speaking of ghosts, he’s another that I hear a lot about but have never seen. Maybe tonight we’ll finally meet.

They continued to enjoy the wine. It had been over six months since the two were together as a team. The next hour was spent catching each other up about their individual undercover assignments. Near the end of the meal, TJ pulled a cigarette out of her purse, started to light it, and said, I need to visit the ladies’ room. She excused herself, headed to the back of the restaurant, and found an empty stall. About a minute later, she heard the voices of a couple of young ladies coming into the restroom.

Hey, are yooz having a good time tonight? said the one with a heavy Jersey accent.

Sure, I am, came the reply from the other who had a smooth Midwest tone to her voice. Just let me freshen up my makeup, and I’ll be ready to go. I’m not a fan of baseball, but Bamm-Bamm insisted that I come with him. I’m glad you were able to join us and keep me company. At least I will have someone to talk to during the game.

Yooz look great. Besides, Bamm-Bamm is gonna be totally interested in da game. Now, afterward is another story. Yooz have plenty of time to freshen up later.

A cold chill swept through TJ’s body, and her mind raced. I have to keep them inside until I can get a look at them, she thought to herself. She quickly blurted out, Isn’t that like a guy to bring a girl to a ball game in the middle of October where you’re going to freeze to death? My boyfriend is dragging me there too! Then they want to run around the bases afterward.

The two girls giggled. Yup, past first base and all the way home, replied the Jersey girl.

Dinner and a baseball game, now that’s the way to treat a lady! TJ giggled back. At least our boyfriends treated us to a nice Italian dinner before heading to the stadium. Did you enjoy your meal?

Yeah, they replied.

What did you have? TJ was grateful that small talk in a ladies’ room with total strangers was not taboo like it would be for men to chat in the men’s room.

I had the chicken parmigiana, and da hot antipasta was great! The food is always great here! replied the Jersey girl.

I had the veal scaloppine, and it was delicious! I should have had the lobster since the big fella was going all out tonight. The other giggled.

Does your date bring you here often? TJ asked, stalling for time.

Oh, we’re just casual friends. The Jersey girl giggled again. So I don’t know how often he comes here.

So what did your friend have? TJ asked.

Oh, he had da clams oreganate. It’s one of their specialties, the Jersey girl elaborated as she was closing her cosmetic case.

What, no oysters tonight? TJ quipped as she was preparing to leave the stall.

He may wish he had some tonight before it’s over, said the Jersey girl. The two girls burst into laughter. Well, hope yooz have a good time at da game. Turning to her friend, she beckoned, C’mon, let’s go," and they quickly headed for the door.

Did you say his name is Bamm-Bamm? That’s such an odd name. What’s his real name? TJ was trying to glean some more information.

I dunno. That’s all I have ever known him by, the Jersey girl replied as they were opening the door. See ya.

Luckily, TJ was able to finish and open the stall door to get a quick look at what they were wearing as they were leaving. She didn’t see their faces, but these ladies of the evening were hard to miss in a crowd. Quickly washing her hands and wiping them on her jeans, she opened the door and now spotted them at the front door with their date. He had a jacket on but was clearly a mid-forties to fifties man with a stocky build, salt-and-pepper hair, and graying sideburns.

Reaching into her purse to pull out a couple of twenties, she rushed back to the table. C’mon, that’s Bamm-Bamm leaving the restaurant now! She threw the twenties onto the table and grabbed Jack’s arm, nearly pulling him off the chair.

Still trying to absorb what she was saying, he quickly followed her out the door while she explained what she had heard. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Chapter 2

The Chase

It was dark out when TJ and Jack left the building. The streetlights illuminated the sidewalks. TJ had noted through the plate glass windows in the front of the restaurant which direction the threesome was heading. They went up a one-way street, two lanes wide, that they had traveled down to get to the restaurant. The two of them were not prepared to deal with the impromptu situation and had no time to discuss options as TJ yelled out, Sir, we’re the police. We’d like to talk to you? She was older than Jack and certainly bolder, part of the fabric of being a New Yorker. But she didn’t have an idea what she was going to say and just wanted to get a closer look at this guy as they hurried their pace to the trio.

The three had not reached their car yet when they heard TJ’s voice. As Bamm-Bamm turned back to the restaurant and saw the two quickly approaching, his mind raced. At that distance, he didn’t recognize them and had no interaction with any cops for years, not even a traffic stop. Any traffic tickets were taken care of by one of his minions. Could he have slipped up somewhere, or did someone rat him out? He decided to take no chances and started running up the street.

TJ and Jack were about a block away when they saw the man take off, and they turned their own run into a sprint.

Leaving his lady entourage behind, the older man traveled on the sidewalk along Arthur Avenue and then drifted to the middle of the street to avoid the pedestrian traffic blocking his getaway. But now he danced between oncoming cars and shouts of, C’mon, watcha doing? Approaching the intersection, he made his way across the two lanes of traffic, turning left onto the far side of 187th Street.

Jack was making ground but barely survived his sudden arrival at that same intersection there at 187th and Arthur Avenue. A car came to a screeching halt with his horn blaring, followed by the angry cursing of the driver. Now he lost the ground he had previously made up.

TJ was mumbling to herself while running in pumps and losing ground in the chase. After passing other Italian restaurants and shops along Arthur Avenue, she finally arrived at 187th, pulled her shoes off, and carried them in both hands. She danced through the traffic in the intersection while making her way to the far side of the street.

The chase stayed on the sidewalk now as there were more cars traveling on this two-way street than the one he just left. Bamm-Bamm may have been as strong as an ox, but he was not a runner and was quickly tiring when he approached Hoffman Street, looking for an escape from his pursuers.

Closing in now, Jack was wondering where his partner was. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and could see that she was almost a block behind him. Seeing the shoes in her hands, he realized what had slowed her down and that she was now maintaining the same distance. Not sure if he should slow down and wait, he decided to keep going since she was no longer losing ground.

The streets in Little Italy consisted of red and tan brick buildings, most connected to one another and ranging from two to seven stories. There were fire escapes that draped the front of many of these buildings while some of them were located between the buildings. Bamm-Bamm noted that even if he could jump high enough to grab a ladder, it would not make an adequate escape route as he could easily be tracked outside the building.

At the northwest corner of 187th and Hoffman was a six-story building with a meat and grocery store at the base and apartments above. Bamm-Bamm was familiar with the layout of this building and figured he would enter the next one and work his way back to this one. Then he could double back to his car. Hopefully, the ladies would still be there.

Bamm-Bamm passed this building on his right and was now at the entrance of a five-story building that was just a set of apartments. He entered, jumped over the red one-step threshold, and into the entrance of the apartments. Seeing the stairs right in front of him, he knew his destination was the roof, using what energy he had left to scramble up them.

Jack lost sight of the big fella and presumed he disappeared into a building on the right. He faded to his left so he could have a better view of the front of the buildings to ascertain which building he went into. There really wasn’t a choice; most of the stores lining the street were now closed, and the only option was the next set of apartments. There was another building past the set of apartments, but it did not have an entrance on this side as far as he could tell. From underneath his leather jacket, he eased his gun out of the holster. Jack started to slow down and drift to the street, using the cars parked along the street as a shield in case he was running into an ambush.

Seeing that the entrance was well lit and no one standing there, he bolted for the red landing. Once inside, he could hear the heavy footsteps echoing down the stairway hall and gave chase at full speed. Based on the sounds, the heavyset man was already up a couple flights of stairs. Jack took the steps two at a time, not fearing a surprise, but held his gun in front of him in case. He was not making as much noise as the man he was chasing and kept charging so he could close the gap.

Suddenly the heavy footsteps ceased and were replaced by the sound of a door screeching open. The stairwell fell silent. Jack climbed the stairs more quietly now, taking them one step at a time.

Bamm-Bamm had arrived at the top of the building. Several pigeon coops on the roof could be seen from the doorway light. Stepping out onto the nightscape, he stopped to gather his bearings. The taller six-story building was to his right. There had to be a fire escape ladder attached to the side of the wall, he thought. Otherwise, he could be making his stand here.

Shortly afterward, Jack had reached the vantage point where he could see the door leading onto the roof. Gun fully drawn up, pointing to the door, he slid along the wall on the right side, peering up and out into the darkness and then switching to the other side, hoping to gain a view of what was awaiting him on the roof. Now he was eye level with the top step and could see out onto the roof. He bound to his right side again to gain a better perspective of what was out there. He could only see the boxes of plywood and chicken wire that were elevated off the roof by two-by-fours, but he could clearly see underneath them as the stairwell light faded into the dreadful darkness.

The legs of the wooden boxes did not hide his prey; it was lurking out there somewhere. His heart was racing as he quickly and quietly jumped out into that light that illuminated the rooftop and rushed to the closet cube. After bumping into the cage, he realized it was a pigeon coop. The birds inside made a rustling sound with their wings, which broke the stillness of that moment. Jack cursed under his breath as he froze and hoped the birds would settle down quickly.

Hearing the commotion behind him, Bamm-Bamm had reached the far wall some forty feet away and could easily see his escape route. The top of the wall was lit well enough from the city lights while the bottom half of the wall was still bathed in total darkness, which masked his presence. He realized he could scale quietly up the ladder without being seen, but he would have to traverse the last half without the cover of night. If he could successfully climb that last part, he would have the strategic advantage of being above his pursuers. It would be his Castle Keep as they would not dare attempt to climb the ladder knowing he could be on the other side, ready to shoot them as they climbed up and over.

Jack quickly looked again under the legs of the coop to see if he could spot anything, then straightened while he peered over the coop, trying to let his eyes adjust to the dark.

The heavyset man was sweating and had managed to climb to the last rung of his obscurity. He would have to risk the last rungs in the light. Holding on to the rung with his left wrist wrapped around the left side in case he needed to turn and shoot with his gun that was held in his right, he paused, took a breath, and looked around. From there, his adversary could be seen in the light from that doorway.

The palms of Jack’s hands were perspiring. This guy he was chasing could be lurking in any of the dark shadows along the walls that surrounded the rooftop. He needed to assess his surroundings, so he performed a full 360-degree turn with his gun pointed out.

Now was Bamm-Bamm’s chance as he saw his pursuer, with gun drawn, starting to slowly rotate around, looking for him; and when his back was turned, he ventured out from his security blanket of darkness.

As Jack scanned the rooftop, the only way out was the five-story building to his left, which was separated by a short wall that could easily be jumped. Moving to his right while completing the sweep, he was now looking at the six-story building to his right and saw movement.

Freeze, this is the police! he yelled.

Bamm-Bamm realized there were a few more rungs to go before he could seize his freedom. He turned to his right but placed his left leg between the wall and the ladder for a more stable footing. His head spun first to locate his foe. He couldn’t see his face, but the officer was silhouetted by the light from behind him. Bamm-Bamm continued his pivot while raising his gun. Hey, you got me, he said, grinning.

The man on the ladder turned his head, and Jack could now see his face. Jack’s own gun was pointed at that mass on the wall, and he suddenly froze. That face, it looked familiar! His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach churned. His mind raced. I recognize that face and the voice! Oh my god, he has a gun, and it is now pointing at me. There was only a split second to make a decision.

A single gunshot shattered the night.

Chapter 3

Where It All Began

The beauty of the young sixteen-year-old Italian girl was breathtaking that spring of 1949. Isabella Beneventi had dark-black hair that flowed down to the middle of her back. While most on the island had dark hair, not many had steel-blue eyes that burned right into a man’s soul. Her bronzed face with high cheekbones and beaming smile caught the attention of every young Sicilian man. She worked in her family’s citrus and olive groves near Palermo, the capital of Sicily. This northwest region of this coastal city was rich in Greek culture and history with Ancient Greek ruins to the west at Segesta and Agrigento. But this region was also ruled by the Romans, Byzantines, Muslims, Normans, and Spanish before being unified back to Italy in 1861. These previous rulers left marks of history in the architectural styles that can still be seen today. Her family’s citrus and olive fields were located in an area called Conca d’Oro, a fertile region to the south of Mount Pellegrino. It was here in the groves where she first met Joey Corsaro.

Joey was a well-built young man. He stood tall in the ladders as he collected fruit into baskets that he would lower down to Isabella and the other girls who were picking fruit from the lower branches. Shirtless, he bronzed under the Mediterranean sun. Even when he picked lemons, he wouldn’t wear any protection. Joey proudly wore his battle scars from the long thorns that protruded from its branches.

He worked for Isabella’s father, Rafaele, and her older brother, Tomasso. The family had owned their land for many generations and took pride in their humble and respectable living. Tomasso would someday inherit this land and carry on the tradition. The Beneventi family was well respected in the region; they were devout Catholics and would regularly attend mass as a family, with Mrs. Beneventi fixing a huge feast on Sunday afternoons.

When Joey wasn’t harvesting for the Beneventi family, he was doing other jobs for them. He would help in the fields when the older nonproducing trees needed to be cut down and replaced with seedlings. Isabella was attracted to his muscles that gleamed in the sunshine and sweat. Not only was he handsome and strong, but he made her laugh.

From time to time, the other job that filled up his day, and sometimes night, was digging graves. He was already strong, and this fed his desire to grow stronger. It also was a great way to release tension that usually built up inside of him.

Isabella loved the coast and often would tease him about his other job. Aren’t you going to take me to the beach today? Or do you have to work your ‘graveyard’ shift?

Hey, I want to be somebody. I want to go somewhere and make a life for us someday. I can’t turn down good money.

Isabella realized that Joey really loved her and wanted to marry her and have enough money to do something other than digging holes then filling them back in.

You know, this pays good money. Shhh, don’t tell anyone, but there are some nights where we have a two-for-one special. There are times when we are visited by the Mafioso and asked to add another body to the coffin. The pay on those nights is really good. It makes sense. I get paid for twice the work and sometimes three or four times for half the work since I only dig one grave!

The Sicilian Mafia, or Mafioso, were not referred to as criminals but as protectors of the people against the ruling government. They were a modern-day version of Robin Hood as they stood by the poor, weak, and oppressed. In the 1950s, their image portrayed a respect of the law, the defense of others, and high character. To be a Mafioso required attitude and audacity. But it also meant being noble, caring, and reputable.

That’s terrible! replied Isabella in a kidding tone as the Mafioso were revered by the general public.

We never ask questions, was the comeback. Maybe they were too poor to have a proper burial. And the Mafioso was kind enough to arrange disposing of the body for the family? I just don’t know, and I never ask questions. It is wiser to keep one’s mouth shut and mind your own business.

That’s so true. They do so many kind things for others.

And they really seem to take care of their own, Joey stated. They are like one big family. A family unity outside your blood family, but they love and take care of you just like you were part of their family.

And when are we going to be family? she cooed as she turned to look at her Hercules standing there in the sun and embraced his chiseled body.

Soon. I need to find the right opportunity to approach your father.

Hey, I’m going to be an old maid if you wait too long! she teased.

Joey knew that this wonderful young woman was the jewel of the area and would not let her get away. Never will I let you go, he whispered as he kissed her passionately.

You are a smart man. She smiled and ardently kissed him back.

But I must tell you, I want to treat you like a queen, my queen. And what kind of life is there from a fruit picker and gravedigger? I cannot do this all of my life!

My family has survived.

Yes, but I want more for you, my love, so much more. I want to move to America, the land of plenty. There is opportunity there!

I would love to travel to America! But I would miss my family here.

Your brother would own this land, and what would you and I do? Continue to work for your brother? I need to create a life for us. So I am saving up money to travel there and get a much better job.

She knew he was right. Tomasso would someday own this place. Would he continue to have open and loving arms like her father and keep them here? They were a couple of years apart, but not real close. She was closer to her mother, and he was Papa’s proud son. So would he lovingly reach out to his sister after Papa was gone? Families are close in Sicily, but they still need to be independent and be able to make their own living. Papa’s own brother moved to the city to earn a living and did not stay here on the land to continue to cultivate it.

But how would we survive on our own in America? That would be so far away from family.

I have been talking to the Mafioso here, and they have connections in America. They talk about sending me to America with their blessing and said that they would take care of me and look after me. That is what their family is all about.

Whom have you been talking to?

"The one who has been the kindest to me is the butcher, Signor Mazzara. Lucio really seems to care and wants me to learn the meat business so I can get a job once I get there. When he needs some help, I’ll be working for him, and he will teach me about different