by Bill Sage
Ward turned his head slightly to one side, boring a stare straight into Roth.
Seeing Ward glaring at him, Roth figured he was doing his best to look intimidating. So Roth made a big deal out of slowly opening the Penal Code book and peering at the page he’d flagged.
Seconds went by in the quiet courtroom.
Finally, Roth said, “It’s clear to me that to be fair to both sides I need to have more information. I need another viewpoint. So I’m ordering a ninety-day diagnostic study to get further input from the Department of Corrections.”
Ryan’s attorney jumped up. “Your Honor…if I may.”
“Yes, go ahead,” Roth said.
“Your Honor, even the probation report indicates there are many mitigating factors that could support giving the defendant probation. Sending him to a prison facility for evaluation would result in him being incarcerated for ninety days even if he’s eventually granted probation.”
One of the DAs rose to his feet, ready to respond. “Your Honor, the People—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Roth said.
The DA sat down.
“I believe a diagnostic study from the Department of Corrections would help me get a more complete picture of Mr. Ryan,” Roth said.
Ryan’s attorney said, “But Your Honor…”
“No, that’s it. I’ve heard enough.”
Then Jon took Ryan into custody and led him to the lockup to be transported to a prison facility for evaluation.
Returning to his chambers, Roth sat at his desk. He felt satisfied with what he’d done. Ordering a diagnostic study not only gave him breathing space, but the look on Ward’s face when Jon led Ryan to the lockup made his day.
Roth reasoned that since there was still a possibility Ryan could get probation, Ward would hold off on handing the Munich story to the press. He’d wait to see what happened when Ryan came back for sentencing.
If not, Roth was willing to live with the consequences. But he felt confident Ward would back off for now.
As Roth went over what could happen next, he was thinking that as soon as Jake got to California, if he wanted, Roth could put Jake to work. That would end all the phone calls, the threats, and the wondering about what would eventually happen.
It’s not that Roth didn’t know whacking Ward would be overkill. Taking a life for committing a nonviolent crime went against everything lawyers are taught.
He imagined his tort professor shaking his head in disgust, but pictured his Uncle Ziggy and maybe Lopez nodding their approval.
Nevertheless, sometimes life forces people to make difficult choices. Dealing with Ward was one of them. So if it ever became necessary, giving Jake the nod to take Ward out wouldn’t be a hard call for Roth to make.
Why should Roth care what happened to him anyway? Ward was trying to extort him and more than willing to destroy his judicial career. Not because Roth had done something unethical on the Ryan case, but because Roth wouldn’t let himself be blackmailed.
Fuck ‘im. I don’t owe him shit.
But at the same time Roth was willing to let Jake clip Ward, he was refusing to give Ryan no time in jail, something far less permanent. Those seemingly contradictory positions weren’t incompatible to Roth.
That’s because he believed that in some cases taking extreme action to protect himself or close friends from evil was morally justified. If the criminal justice system could render justice, why couldn’t he?
In both cases, the result would be the same—a crime would be punished. Just different agents.
Yet to Roth doling out light sentences to politically connected defendants was immoral, precisely because it went against justice. It wasn’t dishing out punishment for a crime, it was the exact opposite. And besides, it debased other defendants who wouldn’t receive the same treatment.
As far as Roth was concerned, handing out unjustified sentences as favors was cowardly and corrupt.
Even though he intellectually knew it was wrong to take the law into his own hands, he was willing to do it when he felt he had no other choice.
12
Detroit, Michigan – May 1959
WHEN AL AND JAKE LEFT THE ARMY in 1959, Jake began doing jobs with local mobsters, but still worked as a counterman at his dad’s delicatessen.
Jake loved working there, it was a regular hangout for the Purples. They bounced back and forth between Gertner’s and the Veterans Club across the street.
Many of them were the same guys he and Al knew when they hung out at the club before they went into the army. Some had known Jake since he was 12 years old.
One day when he was working behind the counter, he had to rough up Telly Feldman, the ex-prize fighter.
Telly was acting like an asshole, talking loudly, complaining about the food. He was saying things like, “This corned beef’s too old,” or “the bread’s stale.”
Wouldn’t shut up.
Several customers glared at him, shaking their heads, hoping that would make him shut up. They didn’t want to take physical action against Telly out of respect for Mike and Jake. That’d be up to them.
Mike wasn’t there, so it’d have to be Jake.
After several minutes, Sid Ackerman, the butcher, got up and walked over to Telly’s table. In a quiet voice, he said, “Telly, come on. Everyone just wants to eat in peace. Please keep it down.”
“Fuck you, Sid,” Telly sneered. “Go back to your table and shove that hot dog up your ass.”
That’s the way Telly was, always insulting and a bully.
When Sid didn’t move fast enough, Telly said, “Beat it, asshole.”
Sid moped back to his table.
Now the atmosphere in the restaurant was tense and ominous. Something was going to happen, you could feel it. Either Jake or someone else needed to stop Telly.
Jake knew his father didn’t want him roughing up anyone at the restaurant. But Telly was hurting business and the guys expected him to do something. Jake held himself back, the time didn’t seem right. He knew eventually something would happen that would push him over the edge.
It was just a matter of time.
Several minutes later when a customer stormed out of the restaurant, muttering, “shit” as he pushed the door open, that time had come. It was the trigger Jake had been waiting for.
He wiped his hands on a towel and grabbed the police nightstick he’d placed under the cash register.
Lev Keller, who was sitting at a table with Mario Renzoni, the Detroit underboss, grinned as he saw Jake make his way over to Telly, holding the nightstick down against his leg.
Turning to Mario, Lev said, “This oughta be good.”
Telly looked like he was getting ready to do some negotiating. But then without saying a word Jake slammed the nightstick into Telly’s forehead. Then he blasted him again. Telly tumbled to the floor, blood covering the left side of his face.
He groaned as he clutched a chair rail, trying to use it to push himself up. But Jake smashed him one more time and Telly collapsed to the floor again.
Two customers applauded.
“Atta boy, Jake. He had it coming,” one guy hollered.
Mario looked at Lev and nodded his approval.
“I told you,” Lev said, smirking.
After Jake and Dave Easley carried Telly outside, leaving him for the beat cop to take care of, Mario said, “That guy’s got a lot of hidden talent.”
“That’s Mike Gertner’s son,” Lev said.
“Maybe I could use him to clip Finkle. You don’t really want the job anyway.”
Lev glanced at Jake then turned back to Mario. “Finkle’s shit. Waste of my time.”
“Whaddaya think?”
“I’ve known Jake for years. Just out of the army. He’d be good for the job.”
“He sure looks like he can handle himself.”
“I saw him take out a guy at the Vets Club,” Lev said, staring at Mario. Then with a grim expression darkening his face, he said, “Blood was eve
rywhere and he wanted to do more.”
Mario gave Jake the contract to clip Finkle and that started him in a new career or as Jake calls it, his “specialty.” No surprise to anyone, especially Al. After a while, Jake was doing hits all over the country, including California.
That was 24 years ago. Now Jake could be on the wrong end of a hit contract. If he couldn’t get Al to do something to help him, he’d be a dead man.
But first he had to have a sit-down with Claudio Monetti, the capo of the LA Mob. He was the guy Jake had to bring on board before he could take the next step with Al Roth.
13
JAKE KNEW CLAUDIO WOULD BE SURPRISED to receive a phone call from him just out of nowhere. But he also knew it was crucial for Claudio to find a way of knocking off Nick Mangano.
He needed Jake for that.
Mangano was a made guy in the Los Angeles mob. Three months ago, Claudio received a tip from a DEA mole that Mangano had worked out a deal with the feds to enter the witness protection program. He needed their protection and said he’d lay out the other guys in the crew on their drug trafficking.
They’d face heavy prison time if Mangano wasn’t stopped. That’s when Claudio gave Jake the contract to clip him.
But before Jake could complete the job, the Orange County Sheriff’s Department arrested Mangano for a murder he committed a little less than a year ago in Mission Viejo. So now Mangano was sitting in jail out of Jake’s reach.
Claudio wasn’t pleased to hear that. Furious, he blamed Jake and came down hard on him, threatening to put a contract out on him if he didn’t complete the job.
“And don’t think I can’t get that done in Detroit,” Claudio told Jake.
“Shit! Now you really got me scared,” Jake responded. “Why don’t you fly out here and do it yourself? I’ll meet you at the airport, make it really easy for you.”
With that conversation still ringing in his ears, Jake had to now reach out to Claudio and try to get him to buy into his plan.
Sitting in his Marriott hotel room, Jake dialed Claudio’s unlisted number. Just as he thought, Claudio was suspicious at first, but started coming around as he heard more of Jake’s plan.
Jake finished by saying, “As soon as he gets out, I’ll whack the fucker.”
“All I can tell you is that you gotta make this go away.”
“I can get it done. Let’s talk.”
They arranged a sit-down at Vessia’s, a small Italian restaurant in Los Angeles. Jake drove there in the dark blue Lincoln Town Car he’d rented for a couple of months from one of the car rental agencies at the hotel.
When Jake walked in, he saw two of Claudio’s men sitting near the door.
He smiled to himself.
Recalling that their last conversation was quite heated, Jake thought Claudio could be a little wary of meeting him face-to-face. That made him think that Claudio could have him patted down as soon as he walked in the door. That’s why Jake made the decision not to carry the Walther PPK/S automatic Izzy Levine sent him in the mail.
So now if the two wiseguys patted him down, they’d see he wasn’t packing heat. Jake thought that could lead Claudio to think he wasn’t carrying a grudge. He hoped that would reassure Claudio, making it more likely he’d buy into his proposal.
Anyway, that’s the way Jake looked at it.
As he walked past the two wiseguys, they didn’t try to stop him. One guy looked at Jake then nodded to the back.
Jake walked into the dining area and saw Claudio sitting in the near the kitchen. He went over to his table, stopped in front of it and spread open his sport coat. “I’m disappointed. Not patting me down?”
Claudio grinned. “Jake, I’m not worried. We’re still friends.”
“I’m here to keep it that way.”
“Have a seat.”
Jake sat down, but felt uncomfortable because his chair was facing the wall. He didn’t like having his back to the front door and Claudio’s goombas.
Jake and Claudio engaged in small talk for a while, mainly about the guys in Claudio’s crew. When they were getting close to ordering, Claudio lowered his menu to catch Jake’s eye. “The veal parmigiana is good,” he said, raising his chin as he spoke.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
They ordered dinner and while they waited, Jake gave Claudio an outline of his plan to get Mangano out of jail. He made sure he didn’t mention Al Roth’s name or say anything that could link him to it.
“What makes you think you can do this?” Claudio asked.
“I know about trials, how they work, so I can make things happen.”
“Whaddaya mean you can make things happen?”
“If you control the lawyers, you can make it go your way.”
“Okay, but I don’t know,” Claudio said with a shrug. “It doesn’t sound like it’d pan out.”
“I’ll explain it to you. If you—”
“Hey, whaddaya say we put it off for now?” Claudio interrupted. “Let’s talk about it after we eat.”
“Sure. It don’t matter to me.” But Jake didn’t like to be interrupted. He was thinking that if Claudio ever followed through on his threat to put a contract on him, he wouldn’t go into hiding. He'd fly to LA and make sure he nailed Claudio before they got him.
They talked about other things for a while. After their food arrived, they ate without talking much about anything. Sometimes Jake would catch Claudio looking at him. He supposed Claudio was thinking that he’d come to the meeting clean.
When they finished eating, Claudio leaned back in his chair. “So, who you taking, Redskins or Dolphins?”
“I like the Redskins.”
“I think it’ll be close, but I like ‘em too.”
Claudio took a sip of wine. Then as he narrowed his eyes and peered at Jake, he asked, “So how you gonna do this?”
“Let me answer it like this. How’d you like to be the guy who runs players in a NBA game?”
“So you’re talking about Nick and his lawyer.”
Jake paused for effect. “Yeah.”
“But how do you know how to do that?”
“It’s not that difficult if you know how things are done.”
“And you know?”
“It’s part of what I do.” Jake leaned back, downed the last of his wine. “What can I say? I know how it works. I don’t know how else I can explain it to you.” He said that in a tone meant to show his irritation.
What’s so fuckin’ hard to understand?
Neither one spoke for what seemed like a long time. Jake was getting concerned, maybe Claudio wasn’t buying it. By now, all Jake was thinking of was getting the hell out of there. He wondered what would happen if he just got up and said, I can’t sit around all fuckin’ night. Call me if you’re in.
But he didn’t do that, he sat there.
Claudio tightened the muscles around his jaw. “If we don’t do nothing, it’s not gonna be good for any of us. But this idea of yours…”
Jake inched in a little closer, eyes fixed on Claudio. “Listen to me. If I don’t do nothing, it’s gonna come down hard on you guys. You know that. And my idea will give me a chance to make good on my end. I’ll whack him and we can all go back to making money.”
Then Jake scooted his chair back about a foot, tossed his napkin on the table. Sat still glaring at Claudio. He’d made his final pitch. If Claudio kept hedging, he’d get up and walk out.
Claudio took a gulp of wine. “We gotta do something.”
As Jake sat there waiting for Claudio to make up his mind, he remembered Al telling him that he needed to have more patience. So he stayed seated.
They sat without speaking, trading quick glances— thinking. Jake edging closer to walking out. Claudio not sure what to do.
Finally, Claudio said, “We got nothing to lose.” Then after a pause, “I’ll talk to him. It’ll have to be during visiting hours. Let you know.”
“One thing,” Jake said, slightly tilting
his head toward Claudio.
“Uh?”
“Goldman?”
“Yeah, he’d be good. Works with us. I’ll get him going.”
With that, Jake stood up, gave Claudio a quick nod. “Let me know when you talk to him. Gotta go.” He turned and headed for the door before Claudio could come around to shake hands.
After Claudio’s threat to put a contract out on him, Jake didn’t want to shake hands. He thought it’d make him look weak.
He returned to the Marriott to wait for Claudio’s phone call.
14
AFTER FOUR DAYS OF WAITING at the hotel, Jake was getting a little stir crazy. Sunbathing at the pool or getting a manicure didn’t interest him. Other than buying and smoking expensive cigars, he spent a good deal of time sitting in the bar, trying different ryes and single malt Scotches.
That afternoon he walked around the area near the Balboa Pier and then went to Fashion Island in Newport Beach. Visited a couple stores and got an ice cream. He liked the ocean, the restaurants, and the upscale stores.
Jake understood why Al loved living in Newport Beach and repeatedly tried to get him to move there.
When he returned to the hotel, the front desk had a phone message for him.
It was Claudio.
As Jake looked at it, he felt a little apprehensive. Was he in or out?
He went to his room, sat on the edge of the bed, and dialed Claudio’s number.
“I talked to him,” Claudio said. “He’s in.”
“Good. I can get started.”
“He didn’t know what to think at first. Then he came around.” Claudio took a pause. “It gives him hope.”
“What about Goldman?”
“I’m meeting him tomorrow night. Believe me, he’ll go for it.”
“Let me know. I’ll be steering him during the trial, telling him what to do. I already got it figured out.” Jake knew that wasn’t true, but he wanted Claudio to think he’d be working alone. That way there’d be no connection to Judge Roth.
Jake held off a few hours before phoning Al. Didn’t want to call him at court. He waited downstairs in the bar and in his room, watching TV and napping.
