Under the Knife

by Diane Fanning

  Now, Anthony Ricco, in all of his sartorial splendor, stood at the side of Dean Faiello—a phony doctor, a drug abuser, a fugitive from justice and an accused murderer. What tricks would pop out of Ricco’s bag this time?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  THE MEDIA RAISED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE FORENSIC EVIdence discovered in Dean’s Jeep Grand Cherokee. Police spokesman Michael Coan said, “We were aware of the car and determined that it was of no investigative value.” Jeane MacIntosh and Brad Hamilton consulted with forensics experts. Lawrence Koblinsky, at John Jay College and a consultant for NYPD, said, “In my opinion, they screwed up. If he transported her, the car is considered one of the crime scenes. A good defense attorney could argue that the police were sloppy.”

  Another expert agreed, saying that it still wasn’t a waste of time at this late date to search the vehicle—evidence could still be found. “Maybe a hair, a fiber, traces of a drug, who knows?”

  DR. LAURIE POLIS AT LAST RECEIVED A CALL FROM THE district attorney’s office. About time, she thought. Polis cooperated fully, providing them with all the information she had on Dean Faiello. Still, she avoided interviews with the media. She did not want to be a part of any article or story in connection with him.

  Both of Dean’s June court dates were postponed. Ronda Lustman of the Criminal Prosecution Bureau of the attorney general’s office represented the state in the case against Dean for unauthorized practice of medicine. She had hoped Dean would be sentenced for that crime and that she could put away her Faiello file. Now, it looked as if it would hang in limbo for a while.

  It didn’t appear as though Dean would be sentenced on that charge until the murder trial. His time spent in custody awaiting trial would count as time served for any sentence issued for the un-licensed practice of medicine charge. At Dean’s homicide trial, Lustman expected, the judge would order what remained of those four years to be served concurrently with the sentence he received on the murder count, when and if Dean was convicted of killing Maria Cruz.

  DEAN NOW RESIDED ON RIKERS ISLAND IN THE EAST RIVER. New York City purchased the 90-acre hunk of land in 1884. Used as a sanitary landfill, the island grew to 400 acres with the addition of discarded remnants from the large, growing metropolis. The city erected the first jail on Rikers in the 1930s. In 2006, its ten major jails housed more than 16,000 inmates. Dean’s unit, the George R. Vierno Center, named after the retired chief of the corrections department, opened in 1991 as an 850-bed facility. In 1993, an addition to the center added room for another 500 prisoners.

  “I try to keep busy reading one book in English and one book in Spanish at all times, but it’s not easy.” Dean said. “Rikers Island has no library, no book cart and frowns upon prisoners reading books.”

  From the tiny window of his cell in the maximum security unit, Dean had a view of chain-link fence topped with razor wire and the back side of a gray housing unit. “There are no trees visible, no plants, no grass, no people and nothing living,” he wrote. “There are no colors except gray.” Almost the entire day, he listened to the annoying thrum of a large pump ten feet from his cell.

  For 90 minutes each day, however, he got to leave his housing unit to go the law library. He had one hour of recreation time in a concrete courtyard without trees or grass. There was nothing to do out there but run in circles on the hard slab—no exercise equipment, no recreation or sports supplies for games of any sort and no radios or books were allowed.

  Inside, the entertainment options available were not aligned with Dean’s tastes at all. The TV showed an endless stream of gangster rap movies starring people like 50 Cent, martial arts films with Jet Li and mass annihilation flicks like The Hills Have Eyes—not one Oscar contender in the bunch. In between movies, the TV displayed concerts with Ja Rule and Ludacris. “I can see why he calls himself Ludacris,” Dean wrote. “It describes his performance art perfectly.”

  While movies were on, he worked on crossword puzzles from newspapers—“The New York Times’ are my favorites,” he wrote.

  The food, at least, was a dramatic improvement over Costa Rican jail fare. He gained back the weight he lost there and an additional twenty pounds besides. Health care was better, too. He started a regimen of anti-retroviral treatment and lost his chronic cough and wheezing.

  He wrote a stack of letters to the warden, deputies, commissioners, priests and even Attorney General Eliot Spitzer to decry the discrimination against Catholics and all Christians on Rikers Island. “The preferred religion here is Islam and those who are not Islamic are ignored.” Dean wanted to participate in weekly mass and in Catholic Bible study classes, but was denied attendance. No one responded to his letters. “Pleas from non-Muslims in the correction system fall on deaf ears,” he wrote.

  Once a week, Dean, like the other prisoners in his unit, stood outside his cell in his underwear clutching his plastic mattress to his chest as corrections officers in riot gear conducted a search. They “invade every cell and tear apart everything that isn’t bolted to the floor. They examine minutely every book, sheet of paper, magazines, sneakers, shirts, socks, underwear, linens, correspondence, medications, toilet paper and plastic cups and forks.” Returning to his cell, Dean’s belongings were scattered willy-nilly on top of his denuded metal cot. “And this goes on every week, month after month, until the process becomes dehumanizing and desensitizing.”

  After years of living well beyond his means, Dean Faiello claimed that the only money he now had was the $10 he received each week in prison salary.

  ON JULY 25, 2005, DEAN LEFT HIS DREARY CELL ON RIKERS Island to appear in Manhattan Criminal Court. He carried a paperback copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in his manacled hands.

  Ann Prunty announced that the grand jury handed down the official indictment, charging Dean with the crime of murder in the second degree. The document she filed read:

  The defendant, in the County of New York, on or about April 13, 2002, under circumstances evincing a depraved indifference to human life, recklessly engaged in conduct which created a grave risk of death to another person, and thereby caused the death of Maria Cruz.

  Dean faced a sentence of 25 years to life on this charge.

  On hearing the news, Rudolfo Cruz, from his home in Paranaque City, told the Filipino Reporter: “Thank God! The wheel of justice is grinding. We’ve been waiting for this moment.” He added that he and his wife planned to fly to New York for the trial in October.

  Dean returned to court on August 4 to enter his plea of not guilty. He was due in court again on October 19. When that day arrived, the court proceedings were moved forward to April 2006 because of conflicts in Ricco’s court calendar.

  That April, Rudolfo and Irenea flew to New York with their daughter, Dr. Tes Lara, and her husband, Tadeo, and two grandchildren, Isabel and Anton. They planned to attend Faiello’s pre-trial hearing, staying at the Jersey City home of Maria’s aunt, Rebecca de los Angeles.

  Ricco, however, was not available in April either. Two death penalty cases created conflicts in his schedule. One was the trial in Pennsylvania. The other was the New York defense of Rudy Fleming, accused of murdering actress Nicole duFresne.

  Although disappointed at the rescheduling of Dean’s court date, the Cruz family accepted the reality with stoicism. Rudolfo told the Filipino Reporter that the family would fly back to New York for legal proceedings as many times as needed. “It could be costly, I know, but we’ll do anything for Pipay,” he said. “I will keep coming back until I am assured that Faiello will never see the light of day. I leave it up to the U.S. justice system and God. Ultimately, God, the one who knows everything, will be Faiello’s final judge.”

  “My only worry,” his wife Irenea added, “is that I may not be able to stand seeing Faiello face-to-face.”

  While in New York, the family met with Ann Prunty and other officials with the Manhattan district attorney’s office. They also spent time with Leopoldo Abad, whose firm was handling Maria’
s estate, including her stocks and her savings accounts.

  WHILE DEAN’S SELF-CENTERED FOCUS LED HIM DOWN A PATH of destruction, his former lover Jason Opsahl’s giving nature built a legacy that helped others, even after his death. Broadway Bares—the charitable fundraiser inspired by Jason—hit the stage for the sixteenth time on Father’s Day, 2006. What started as a grassroots effort by a handful of committed men now involved the volunteer services of hundreds of people each year. The show raised $650,950 for BC/EFA that night, bringing the total amount of funds donated since the show’s inception to more than three-and-a-half million dollars.

  BY THE SUMMER OF 2006, DEAN HAD BEEN IN THE CUSTODY OF the corrections system in New York for more than a year. The season arrived in full force in New York City. Muggy air wrapped warm, wet tendrils around its occupants. Many found relief in their air-conditioned homes. For those on Rikers Island, however, there was no relief—no air conditioning, no fans, very little ventilation at all.

  The small windows in Dean’s cell opened just a crack, providing a barely perceptible movement of air. Dean stopped going outside to run on the hot concrete. When his recreation hour arrived, he remained in his small hole, where the air was hot, humid and still. “All I do all day is sweat, work on crossword puzzles and read,” he wrote. “I have fallen into a slump both physically and mentally.”

  Dean’s trial date was set for September 7, 2006. Greg Bach, although on the official list of witnesses for the state, did not expect to be called to testify. The bridges between himself and the prosecution were burned beyond repair. He did not trust them and suspected that they shared the feeling.

  Greg wanted to move on with his life—and he tried. But the shadow of his past with Dean darkened every day. He hoped to return to the creative expression of sand sculpting in the summer of 2006. Life had been on hold for far too long.

  He tried to get past his feelings of anger about the whole situation. “After all,” he said, “my losses pale when compared to the anguish of the Cruz family. It’s so sad, though, for everyone. I have an overall feeling of heartbreak for so many people.” Greg felt wounded by the way he was treated by Dean and his family. He still felt the pain of the attacks by Detective Della Rocca and Assistant District Attorney Ann Prunty. He also felt his own family’s distress, and their growing concern for him.

  He insisted he had no knowledge of Maria Cruz’s death at the time it occurred. He knew he played no role in the cover-up. Someone must have known, though, he thought. It seemed unlikely that Dean would not feel compelled to confide in at least one person. Greg surely hadn’t been Dean’s confidant. If Dean had told him, Greg would have given him an ultimatum: “Either you turn yourself in or I’ll do it for you.” Dean must have known he would react that way.

  There were rumors that Mark Ritchey knew—that he was complicit in the hiding of Maria’s body. Greg dismissed that speculation. He didn’t believe Mark was capable of being that callous.

  Then there was Patty Rosado. Did Dean tell her in the spring or summer of 2003? Did she figure it out on her own long before Maria’s body was found? Patty hacked into Dean’s computer. She reviewed all of Dean’s files. She was the first person Dean called on the night of April 13, 2003. She was the last person to shelter him before he fled to Costa Rica. Did Patty use her knowledge to leverage Dean into a sexual relationship? Had she believed that keeping his secret would bind him to her forever?

  Many hoped that during the trial all secrets and machinations would be revealed. They awaited Dean’s appearance in court on October 16, 2006.

  Ireana and Rodolfo Cruz flew into New York from the Philippines on October 15. They watched as Dean entered New York County Supreme Court wearing jeans, a short-sleeved shirt and a few more pounds on his once-thin frame. Dean stood by his attorney, Anthony Ricco, and faced Judge Gregory Carro.

  Carro asked if he wanted to plead guilty to assault in the first degree “under conditions evincing depraved indifference to human life.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Dean said.

  “Is it true that at that time you were addicted to cocaine and were a heavy user?”

  “That’s correct,” Dean answered, adding that he was under the influence of cocaine when Maria arrived at his illegal clinic for laser surgery on her tongue.

  “You gave her an injection?” the judge asked.

  Ireana sobbed gently in the background of Dean’s admission. “Yes, sir,” he said. Then he admitted that when Maria’s seizures began, he called his former neighbor and emergency room doctor David Goldschmitt for advice. The doctor urged him to take Maria to a hospital immediately.

  “You ignored that advice?” Carro asked.

  “Yes,” Dean said, explaining that he was too frightened to face the consequences of continuing to practice medicine without a license.

  Anthony Ricco and Manhattan Assistant District Attorney Ann Prunty negotiated a deal for Dean Faiello. In exchange for his guilty plea to first-degree assault, the state dropped the second-degree murder charge. Instead of facing 25 years to life in prison, Dean agreed to 20 years of jail time.

  There would be no trial—no revelations—no answers to many of the remaining questions.

  One irrefutable truth remained: Maria Cruz is dead—her young life snuffed out before its time in a needless, heedless moment. Tes Cruz Lara laid Maria’s death at the doorstep of the United States: “I had no idea this could happen in America. I wanted to come here myself. After this, I cannot come here. I cannot live here and always remember my sister.”

  In her diary, Tes wrote to Maria:

  “Someday I will see you once more. Until then I rest in your memories to keep you alive in my heart.”

  AFTERWORD

  WITH THE DEATH OF MARIA CRUZ, WE AGAIN WITNESS THE lingering devastation of one person’s murder. The tendrils of pain stretch beyond immediate family and friends to encompass and damage the lives of a long list of people whose paths directly or indirectly intersect with the crime.

  It affects all of us. Each of us loses a little bit of our humanity with the unwarranted death of an individual. From Maria’s loss, there are lessons to be learned—wisdom to be gained—a knowledge with the potential to protect our own lives and the lives of those we hold dear.

  The most obvious is that substance abuse, whether through prescription drugs, illegal drugs or alcohol, is a road to destruction. Had Dean Faiello lived a life of relative sobriety, odds are he would have never made the bad choices that destroyed relationships, smashed his future and ultimately led to the death of another human being.

  A bigger life lesson, though, is the danger we all face when we place the pursuit of exterior beauty over the maintenance of our own health. In 2004, phony doctor Luis Sanchez was sentenced to 5 years in prison for injecting hundreds of patients with industrial strength silicone. Two years after his conviction, many are still being treated for pain, scarring and disfigurement. When we value the least expensive option like Botox, silicon or collagen injections at a friend’s house or services at a cut-rate makeshift office by someone with dubious credentials over the more expensive services of a trained professional, we put ourselves at serious risk.

  The aging of the baby boomer generation has ushered in a greater acceptance of beauty procedures and cosmetic surgery. Laser machines popped up everywhere in response to consumer demand. Most operators are conscientious and trained. A minority—including licensed physicians who grabbed a laser and a weekend course—forge forward providing treatment with only money on their minds.

  “Entrepreneurial types feel these procedures can be done by anyone,” Dr. Roy Geronemus said. “But you need training in the problem as well as the device. You have to exercise clinical judgment, because lasers interact with the skin in different ways depending on the individual’s age, skin type and color. It is not like a point-and-shoot camera.”

  For most boomers, removal of unwanted hair by laser or electrolysis is the only treatment they seek. For others, elective
cosmetic surgery is a rare indulgence to satisfy a plummeting ego, enhance employment prospects or revitalize a relationship. There are those, however, who get as hooked on it as Dean got hooked on drugs. Obsessive reliance on these artificial body enhancements produces people like Michael Jackson, whose sculpted faces look more alien than human. The lesser known American socialite Joycelyn Wildenstein may be an even starker example of plastic surgery abuse than Jackson. After finding her husband in bed with a 21-year-old, Wildenstein reportedly spent more than three million dollars on cosmetic procedures. She has silicone injections in her lips, cheeks and chin, implants in her chin and lips, at least one face lift and eye reconstruction to make her resemble the large, wild cats her husband loved. Recently, a plastic surgery website dubbed her “the world’s scariest celebrity.”

  For younger generations, facial surgery is seen as a preventative measure to slow the onset of wrinkles and sagging skin. The demand for breast augmentation is at an all-time high. Many younger women think only of improving their image and never stop to consider the long-term consequences of breast implants. Breast-feeding of a baby is eliminated as an option, a naturally erogenous zone is often numbed to sensation and, in all likelihood, the surgery will need to be repeated every ten years.

  Maria Cruz had successful breast augmentation and facial surgery before she ever visited Dean Faiello. She apparently researched the physicians for those procedures very thoroughly. So why didn’t she take the same care with Dean? When she didn’t, she made herself vulnerable, as cosmetic surgery is the only field of medicine where invasive procedures are often pursued based on a self-diagnosis of need instead of on an objective medical assessment.

  Even cosmetic surgery performed by a degreed medical professional comes with risks that we ignore at our own peril. Although the vast majority of doctors do not recklessly perform procedures without a thorough understanding of all the possible ramifications, there are twisted practitioners who have forsaken their oaths in the pursuit of a dollar—physicians who take short cuts instead of obtaining in-depth training, some of whom are not even competent to practice. It is vital to check the professional standing of any new doctor before undergoing any procedure at his hand.