My Crime Fiction: 'The Small Timer'

The below short story, my first published crime fiction, originally appeared in The Orchard Press Online Mystery Magazine in 2002: 

The Small Timer

 By Paul Davis

The shooting victims were discovered at 9 o'clock that night in an old warehouse along the Delaware River in South Philadelphia. 

I was on a "ride-along" with a Philadelphia police sergeant when his car radio alerted us to the triple homicide. The sergeant, Bill Francini, was the subject of a column that I was writing for the local paper. Not wearing a seat belt, I braced myself as Francini raced for the river. 

Arriving at the crime scene some ten minutes later, Francini pulled into a vacant space among a dozen hastily parked police vehicles. Francini ushered me around to the side of the warehouse bay, where I would not be violating the official crime scene, yet I could observe Philly’s finest do their work. 

Francini called out to his lieutenant and introduced me. The lieutenant looked at me sharply, perhaps placing me from the photo that ran with my column, and then simply nodded. He took his sergeant by the arm, and they entered the warehouse. 

From my vantage point I was able to see the three dead men in the center of the warehouse bay. All were dressed casually. A short, elderly man lay crumpled with his squat legs twisted under his torso. A snarl appeared to be etched across his face and a gunshot wound was visible just above his right ear. 

The second victim had been a big and heavy man. I’m no little guy, but this guy was truly big. He lay face up and stretched out across the ground. He died with a dumbfounded expression on his face, just below the large wound on his forehead.

The third victim sat in an upright position against a wooden crate. Like the other two, he had a gunshot wound to the head. His face retained a goofy grin that looked familiar to me. 

I heard one of the crime scene investigators from South Detectives tell the newly arrived homicide detective that an anonymous caller had dialed 911 and reported the shooting. The scene looked like a professional execution, organized crime style, so the detectives called the city's organized crime intelligence squad and asked for someone to come and help ID the bodies. 

When a detective named McCollum from the squad arrived some 15 minutes later, he quickly walked among the three bodies, sidestepping the spent shell casings and blood puddles. He immediately identified the short, older man - the one the detectives with their usual black humor had nicknamed "Grouchy" - as James "Jimmy First Nickel" Martin. Martin was a known associate of the local mob in his capacity as a receiver of stolen goods. 

McCollum identified the second victim, nicknamed "Dopey," as Joey Aurelio, a strong-arm enforcer for Martin. The third victim, nicknamed "Happy," was dismissed as some small timer, as McCollum, the organized crime expert, had never seen him before. 

"Hey, McCollum," one of the detectives shouted, "This guy should be happy – he’s still alive!" 

 

A month later I entered the Federal Building in Center City Philadelphia and rode the elevator up to the 8th floor. I stood before the FBI’s receptionist, who was securely housed behind a sheet of protective glass. I told her that I had an appointment with Special Agent Frank Kaplan. I had come to interview Kaplan’s protected witness, Harry Sullivan - a.k.a. "Happy." 

I had been granted an exclusive interview with the sole survivor of the warehouse murders, who was now a star witness for the prosecution in the upcoming federal murder and racketeering trial of Francis "Frankie Raven" Ravelli, a particularly vicious mob captain of a particularly vicious crew of thieves, extortionists and hit men. 

Sullivan had granted me an interview, as he liked my column on the warehouse murders, and we knew each other from the old neighborhood. 

I joined the Navy on my 17th birthday and traveled to Southeast Asia aboard an aircraft carrier about the same time the 20-year-old Sullivan was heading to state prison for the first of his many periods of incarceration.

Years later, I would see him at neighborhood bars and clubs, and he would play the criminal insider, feeding me tips for my column. He liked to show me off to his cronies. He was quite impressed with the notion that I had become a writer. Of course, the only other writers he knew were number writers. 

Kaplan came out to the reception area and directed me to a vacant office where I saw Sullivan sitting at a conference table. Sullivan’s head was adorned with a turban bandage, and he used a cane to navigate his way back to his chair after he stood and came forward to shake my hand. I sat on the other side of the table, laid my tape recorder down and took out my notebook and pen. I threw out some obligatory questions about his health and his family before I launched into asking him a series of questions about the events that led up to the warehouse murders.

 

Harry Sullivan was a small-time thief. He was in his early 50s, slightly built with a drawn, pock-mocked face that was framed with longish, unruly and scruffy blond hair. Despite his looks and his profession, he was not a drug addict. Sullivan barely managed to make a proper living from his small time stealing and he often had to supplement his illicit income with a straight job. Despite his failure as a criminal, he yearned to be an arch-criminal, like Willie Sutton the old bank robber. 

Sullivan wanted to be respected. 

Sullivan’s graduation to the big time came on the day he happened to witness a head-on collision between a Volvo and a city trash truck. The driver of the Volvo was killed instantly, and the city workers were unhurt but badly shaken. Sullivan was one of the first to come to the aid of the Volvo driver, but seeing that he was beyond it all, Sullivan's criminal instincts kicked in and he lifted the man’s brown leather satchel from the front passenger seat. 

Sullivan slipped away and sprinted the two city blocks to his apartment. Once there, alone in his kitchen, Sullivan broke the lock on the satchel and dropped the contents on the kitchen table. He cried gleefully at the sight of the assortment of diamonds spread across his table. Sullivan surmised that the accident victim had been a diamond salesman or courier. 

Later, after he calmed down, he placed his haul into a large paper shopping bag and walked three blocks to Jimmy First Nickel’s appliance store. Even though Martin had a reputation of being somewhat tight with his money – hence the nickname that indicated he retained the first nickel he ever earned – Sullivan knew that he was mobbed-up and he was the man to see. 

Martin was sitting behind the counter, talking to his much younger and pretty girlfriend Gloria when Sullivan walked in. He handed Martin the bag and told him how he came to be in possession of the diamonds. Martin, a short, heavy man in his 70s, breathed hard as he rose from his chair and came around the counter to lock the door and hang the closed sign. 

Martin ran his hand through the sparse gray strands of hair that were slicked back across his head as he looked into the bag. Sullivan stood there feeling awkward, smiling a goofy smile at the strikingly beautiful, dark-haired girl. She returned his smile with a cold look of boredom. 

"I’m impressed Harry," Martin said. "This is some piece of work here. Lemme make a call and see if I can unload it tonight." 

Martin mumbled into the phone for a few minutes and then announced that he had arranged a meeting with "the Man." Sullivan felt a surge of perverse pride of a professional thief, but he was also felt fearful of entering the world of big-time crime. 

"I don’t know, Jimmy," Sullivan whined. "I think it’s better wit you as the go-between." 

"Harry, this is the big time! There must be $100,000 worth of diamonds in this bag," Martin exclaimed. "The Man wants to meet you personally." 

 

A few hours, a few beers later, Martin and Sullivan drove in silence to a riverside warehouse. Once inside, Martin introduced Sullivan to a large man named Joey, who lumbered towards them, his hand placed on a gun in the waistband of his slacks. Sullivan knew instantly that this was no major league buyer. He knew that Martin had gotten a bone crusher to help steal his diamonds. 

In desperation, assuming Joey had planned to kill him, Sullivan scooped a handful of the diamonds from the bag and flung them towards Joey’s face. Sullivan then dove for some stacked crates half-heartily, fully expecting to be shot and killed. 

The blast sounded like heavy artillery in the open warehouse bay. Sullivan, surprised not to be dead, scampered up and saw that Joey was stretched out. He also saw two young dark guys, neat dressers, who looked like a hundred guys Sullivan knew from the bars and clubs of South Philly. 

One held a large semi-automatic handgun, a Beretta, Sullivan guessed. The other held a shotgun, which was now trained on Martin. Getting a better look, he realized that the one with the Beretta was Frankie Raven. 

Ignoring Sullivan on the ground, Ravelli smiled cruelly as he held his Beretta to Martin’s head. 

"We’re your life-long partners, Jimmy. Didja think ya could cut us out of this deal?" 

"No, no, please," Martin cried. "I was jes introducing a couple of guys, its small time." 

"That’s not what Gloria told me, ya fuckin’ weasel," Ravelli said as he fired into Martin’s head. 

Martin dropped down to the ground like a hangman’s weight bag. Ravelli then walked slowly with a pronounced South Philly strut to where Sullivan rested against a crate. 

"I know you. You’re a small timer from Donny’s bar," Ravelli said. 

"I’m no small timer," Sullivan scoffed. "This was my job." 

"When you’re right, you’re right," Ravelli said coolly. He lifted the Beretta and pulled the trigger. 

 

Kaplan brought us another refill of coffee just as we were finishing up the interview. Sullivan sat in his chair puffing on one of a long string of cigarettes that he had smoked while telling his story to me. 

"You know why I really want to testify against Ravelli?" Sullivan asked. 

"Well, for starters, I would think his shooting you," I said in response. "And I know Frankie, he will certainly finish the job if given the opportunity." 

"Yeah, yeah, sure. But I really want to get up in court and put that bastard away," Sullivan said. "I want him and everybody else to know that I’m no small timer." 

 

Frankie Raven received a life sentence. Quote the judge, Frankie Raven, nevermore. Sullivan was booked into the federal witness protection program and was moved out west somewhere. 

As he wished, Sullivan received his moment of glory, his proverbial 15 minutes of fame. But I had to laugh when I spied what my editor placed over my column about the trial. 

"Small Timer Testifies Against Mob Boss." 

© 2002 Paul Davis  

Note: You can read my other crime fiction short stories via the below link:

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction Stories 

My Crime Fiction: 'The Big Move'

The below short story originally appeared in The Orchard Press Online Mystery Magazine in 2009: 

The Big Move

 By Paul Davis

Dominic Fortino was forced to serve out many after school detentions in the school’s small library.

Fortino was ordered to detention again on this particular day due to his attempt to push Mr. Pidot’s desk out of a second story classroom window.

Jonathan Pidot was a pompous, dumpy young man of 28 with an oversized head, wispy light hair, and huge ears that turned bright red when he became angry or frustrated. His cartoon character looks and high-pitch squeak of a voice made him the perfect foil for teenage class clowns.

He was the most hated teacher in Thomas Junior High School in South Philadelphia during the mid-1960s.

Pidot spent much of the day complaining about the excessive heat coming off the radiators in his classroom. Although it was 30 degrees outside, it was close to 90 degrees in the classroom. Pidot threw open the classroom’s oversize windows to let in the cold air, but it didn’t help much. The students were hot, but many of them were glad that the biology test scheduled for that day was postponed due to the heat and Pidot’s fit over the heat.

At one point Pidot told the class that he was going to confront the custodian and walked out of the classroom. Fortino and a few other students jumped out of their seats, picked up Pidot’s desk and attempted to push it out the window.

Although the open window was wide, the old, wooden desk jammed in the wood widow frame, with half of the desk and two legs dangling over the Johnson Street pavement. The more they tried to push the desk through the window, the more it wedged firmly into the frame.

Someone called out that Pidot was coming and the students rushed back to their seats. Fortino ignored the warning as he was determined to push the desk out of the window with his brute force.

“What are you doing? Are you insane?” Pidot screamed in disbelief as he entered the classroom.

Pidot was not amused by the prank, but the students’ laughter was heard throughout the school. Pidot’s large ears were flaming red as he shrieked insults at Fortino.

Fortino sat down in his seat calmly. He was impassive throughout Pidot’s verbal assault, as he was twice Pidot’s size, and he feared no one. “Big Dom,” as Fortino was known, was a teenager, but he looked like a forty-year-old man. Make that a large, tough, and rugged 40-year-old.

Winded from screaming at Fortino, Pidot threw up his hands in disgust and stormed out the classroom. He charged down the hall and bounced down the stairs to the vice principal’s office on the first floor of the school.

Later in the vice principal’s office Fortino told her that he never intended to push Pidot’s desk out of the window. It was just a joke. The vice principal was not amused. She placed Fortino on suspension and ordered him to return to school in a week’s time with his parents.

Pidot was not satisfied with the punishment and he insisted that Fortino also serve detention. Pidot was big on detention. The vice principal agreed and instructed Fortino to report to detention after classes.

At detention that afternoon in the library Pidot ordered Fortino to read something — anything. A book was out of the question, so Fortino picked up a magazine and glanced at the photos simply to placate Pidot, who sat nearby grading papers and muttering.

The “desk in the window” stunt became a huge joke throughout the school. Even the custodian, who had to dislodge the desk from the window frame, laughed about it. Like the students, the custodian hated Pidot.

The stunt so irritated Pidot that with the vice principal’s permission he formed a teacher’s committee with the goal of identifying and removing the school’s 12 most disruptive students.

Of course, Fortino was one of the designed “12 Most Wanted.” 

I was another.

I was a class clown and I used to crack jokes and offer sarcastic asides during class. I always received a good laugh when I would mimic Pidot’s catch phrase, “Is this a joke?” Pidot would often utter this phrase when students did not meet his so-called high standards of learning.

Other students picked up on my impression and when Pidot walked through the halls one would always hear several students in falsetto voices say “Is this a joke?” This infuriated Pidot and he knew I was the originator.

I was an idea man as well. I pulled my own stupid stunts, but I also conceived of pranks and mischief that Fortino and others went on to commit on my suggestion. In fact, I must now admit that it was I who suggested we push Pidot’s desk out the window. I hated Pidot and the feeling was mutual.

Pidot and his committee came up with the "Pidot Plan," which called for teachers to watch the designated 12 Most Wanted, catch us, one-by-one, in the act, and then transfer us to Daniel Boone, which was a special disciplinary school for young hoodlums.

Pidot told his fellow teachers that Fortino, for example, was not only disruptive; he was incapable of learning. One teacher on the committee, Mr. Rockland, disagreed.

Ronald Rockland was a short fireplug of a man with short-cropped gray hair. He was a tough, no-nonsense history teacher. We all thought he was a cool guy, and no one would have dared to push his desk out of a window.

Rockland, who encouraged my dream of becoming a writer, along with my English teacher, Mrs. Brancato, must have felt there was some hope for me, as he took me aside and warned me about the Pidot Plan. He advised me to stay out of trouble.

I continued to pull stunts, of course, but I was careful not to get caught. Although I had in turn warned my fellow 12 Most Wanted about the Pidot Plan, Fortino and nine other guys would eventually be kicked out of school and shipped off to Daniel Boone. 

Of the 12 Most Wanted, only Mike Rossini, who, amazingly, was a straight-A-student, and me, a class clown, minor hoodlum and marginal student, went on to graduate Thomas Junior High School.

I loved my three years at Thomas, even if I didn’t learn much there. I had a lot of fun goofing off throughout school, which is probably why I’m not a millionaire doctor living in the affluent Philadelphia suburb of Gladwyne today.

And Pidot, I recently discovered, was wrong about Fortino. He was capable of learning.

That afternoon in the school’s library Fortino sat and looked at magazine photos of a luxury high-rise apartment in Center City Philadelphia. He stared at the photos of a wealthy couple’s splendid furniture, electronic equipment and art. He was impressed.

Fortino was so impressed that he vowed to one day steal it all.

Along with Fortino and most of our South Philly street corner gang, I dropped out of high school in the late 1960s. I enlisted in the Navy when I was 17 in 1970 and I sailed off to Southeast Asia on an aircraft carrier. Fortino was sent up the river the same year. 

Fortino spent most of his late teens and early twenties incarcerated, and he later became a member of the local mob.


I had not seen “Big Dom” Fortino in many years so I was somewhat taken aback when I was contacted by his lawyer. Fortino was sitting in a federal cell waiting to testify against his fellow criminals. He told his lawyer that he wanted to offer me an exclusive interview before he entered the Witness Protection Program and left Philadelphia.

According to the lawyer, Fortino read my column in the local paper. Well, I suppose he may have glanced at my column photo, but knowing that he was not big on reading, I doubted that he actually read my column.

I met with Fortino in the Federal Detention Center, located across the street from the Federal Courthouse in Philadelphia. Big Dom had grown even bigger since our last meeting. He was now a massive, muscular guy, wide as a truck, and he had a face that only a hatchet could love. Fortino stood up and welcomed me with a rib-breaking hug and a couple of hard slapping thuds on the back.

We sat down on chairs facing each other across a table. I set out my notebook, pen and tape recorder on the table, and Fortino launched straight away into his story.


Fortino was a member of a rough crew that worked out of John Doe’s Bar & Grill in South Philadelphia. He had a reputation as a capable burglar and a vicious and effective strong-arm guy. He and his crew hit stores and warehouses at night. Fortino’s mob captain, Joseph “Joe Darts,” Argentieri, ran a major bookmaking and loan sharking operation out of John Doe’s. Fortino, with his killer-reputation and killer-looks, collected gambling and loan shark debts for Argentieri.

When a doorman for a Philadelphia Center City high-rise apartment building fell behind in his gambling debts, Fortino recalled his school days and saw an opportunity to fulfill his dream of looting a high-rise, luxury apartment. 

The doorman, Bill Canfield, was a lean, hawk-faced, 50-year-old. He was a fast-talking, ingratiating, compulsive, degenerate gambler. To clear some of his dept and remain healthy, Canfield agreed to assist Fortino.

Canfield identified the richest tenant in the building as John Joyce, a 62-year-old real estate developer. Joyce was a balding, tall, thin, almost frail man, who wore large glasses on his pinched face. He lived alone in his vast apartment, and Canfield told Fortino that Joyce entered the lobby early every Sunday morning after spending Saturday night at a girlfriend’s home.

When Joyce walked into the lobby that one Sunday morning Fortino walked up to him and rammed the four-inch barrel of a .357 Smith & Weston revolver in his side. He forced Joyce into the elevator and they rode up to his apartment. With the gun barrel laid up against Joyce’s temple, Fortino had Joyce unlock the door and disable the alarm system once they were inside. Fortino called down and had his crew come up to the apartment. The four-man crew, dressed as moving men, carried dollies, hand trucks and other moving equipment.

With swift and quiet efficiency, the four experienced men moved every stick of furniture and household item out of the apartment. They moved the load into the freight elevator and then out into a large moving truck that was parked in the back of the building. If anyone happened to see the crew at work, they would assume that a tenant was moving out of the building.

Joyce sat still in a dining room chair, too frightened to speak or move, as the crew moved all of his belongings out the door.

“A rich guy like you should eat more,” Fortino said as he lifted Joyce from the chair with ease. The chair was the last stick of furniture in the apartment, and Fortino handed it to one of his crew. The large apartment was now empty save for Joyce and Fortino.

Joyce was forced to take the elevator down to the garage with Fortino at his side, and they drove off in Joyce’s Lincoln Town Car, one of three cars that he had parked in the garage. They drove off towards North Philadelphia, while the moving truck drove off in the opposite direction towards a wholesale candy warehouse in South Philly.

Fortino swung the car to the curb near a subway stop on Broad Street. Fortino was stealing the car as well, so he told Joyce to get out and take the subway home.

“Call the cops when you get home and say you was robbed,” Fortino said as he pushed Joyce out of the car. “Say you found the place cleaned out when you got there. Got me?”

Joyce nodded in agreement.

“Hey, you’ll collect big-time on the insurance,” Fortino said with a grin. “Go rob those guys.”

Then Fortino abruptly turned cold and menacing and yanked Joyce back into the car. “But if you ever tell the cops about me or my guys, you’ll end up fuckin’ dead. Ya got me?”

Joyce again nodded in agreement and Fortino shoved him out into the street and drove off.

Joyce initially followed Fortino’s instructions, but as this was a bold crime, the detectives were persistent in their questioning. Joyce finally broke down and told the detectives the true story. But Joyce, still fearing retribution from the mad, giant criminal, claimed he could not identify any of the crooks, even though Fortino’s photo was one of the mug shots laid before him.

A University of Penn graduate student who believed his superior intellect would ensure that he made a killing on sports betting — but didn’t — was coerced into working for Fortino. Alec Pines, called “Smart Alec” by the crooks, was a grubby-looking nerd who appeared out of place among the rough-hewn, but better dressed hoodlums. Fortino wanted Pines to report to the candy warehouse so he could identify and place a value on the art, antique furniture and any other items of special value.

This was a big score for Fortino. “Joe Darts” Argentieri, a slim, dapper, silver-haired man of 60, was proud and happy as Pines added up the estimated value of the score.

Argentieri and Fortino discussed “moving” – the criminal term for the profitable disposal of stolen items — the contents of the lavish apartment. Argentieri said he knew some people in New Jersey who would be very interested in the haul.

“This is a big fuckin’ score,” Argentieri told Fortino. “You’ll get a lotta respect for this work, I gotta tell ya, and you're gonna make us a lotta fuckin’ money.”


This would have been a perfect score had not one of Fortino’s crew been arrested by the FBI. The FBI pinched Steven Fritts on federal drug charges unrelated to the apartment job. With a growing family and a growing drug-habit, Fritts feared doing hard time in prison.

So he gave up Big Dom.

He told the FBI about the apartment job and the location of the warehouse. The FBI and the Philadelphia Police raided the warehouse. They also hit John Doe’s and arrested Fortino and his crew.

Despite his record as a poor student, Fortino did the math. As he was in his late 50s, he knew he might die in prison.

So he gave up Joe Darts.

Fortino was a gold mine of information concerning the local mob, and he confessed to aiding Argentieri in the murder of two rivals five years prior. He offered to tell the FBI and the Philly detectives where the bodies — or to be precise, the body parts — were buried. The Assistant U.S. Attorney was very happy with Fortino, and she arranged a very good deal for him.


So there we were in the Federal Detention Center. Fortino told me that his wife and young son were already out of state, safe in the Witness Protection Program. He said he would join them when he finished his testimony.

Fortino said that he was thankful that before the FBI went out and arrested Argentieri, the FBI agents escorted Fortino to his home, where he, his wife and his brother-in-law loaded up a truck with all of their household belongings for the trip out of state.

“Nobody suspected a thing. We were in and out in two hours,” Fortino said proudly. “After all, I know how to fuckin’ move furniture.”

© 2009 By Paul Davis  

Note: You can read my other crime fiction stories via the link below:

Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction Stories 

Gene Hackman’s Friend And Legendary NYPD mentor, Randy Jurgensen, 91 — The Last Living ‘French Connection’ Detective

Philip Messing at the New York Post offers a piece on the last French Connection detective, Randy Jurgensen (seen in the above photo). 

The death of Hollywood icon Gene Hackman saddened millions — and a legendary ex-NYPD detective who tutored him in his most famous screen role in “The French Connection”: is feeling his loss more than most.

“We were friends for more than 50 years,” retired NYPD detective Randy Jurgensen, 91, said.

Jurgensen met the actor at a warehouse on East 125th Street with a mandate: to turn him and his similarly little-known co-star, Roy Schieder, into believable undercover narcotics cops.

The tutorial resulted in a 1971 Hollywood blockbuster that would win five Academy Awards, including “Best Actor” for Hackman, “Best Picture” and “Best Director” for William Friedkin. 

You can read the rest of the piece via the link below:

Exclusive | Gene Hackman's NYPD mentor is last living 'French Connection' detective

Note: I've interviewed Randy Jurgensen several times over the years. You can read my Washington Times On Crime column on Randy Jurgensen via the link below:  

Paul Davis On Crime: The Real French Connection Cops: My Washington Times 'On Crime' Column On Legendary Detectives Sonny Grosso And Randy Jurgensen

Below are two photos of Randy Jurgensen from the film The French Connection:

New Jersey AG Announces Charges Against 39 Defendants, Including Members And Associates Of The Lucchese Crime Family, For Racketeering, Gambling, Money Laundering, And Other Offenses

The New Jersey Attorney General released the below Information: 

TRENTON — Attorney General Matthew J. Platkin, the Division of Criminal Justice (DCJ), and the New Jersey State Police (NJSP) today announced that 39 people – including a Prospect Park councilman and members of the Lucchese Crime Family – have been charged with racketeering, gambling offenses, money laundering, and other crimes, after law enforcement executed search warrants at 12 locations throughout North Jersey earlier this week. 

Following a two-year investigation into illegal gambling activities tied to the Lucchese Crime Family, searches were conducted on April 9, 2025, on four poker clubs located in Totowa, Garfield, and Woodland Park, including two clubs where backroom poker games were hidden behind functioning restaurants; a business in Paterson storing gambling machines; and seven residences of individuals alleged to be managing the gambling activities. 

A Prospect Park council member and local business owner – Anand Shah, 42, of Prospect Park, New Jersey – was identified as allegedly managing illegal poker games and an online sportsbook in association with the Lucchese Crime Family. The investigation uncovered additional poker clubs, the involvement of dozens of individuals alleged to have hosted poker games and worked at the poker clubs, and managed bettors on an illegal online sportsbook. 

The upper management of the gambling enterprise allegedly oversaw the gambling activities and received a portion of the criminal proceeds. The investigation resulted in the identification of more than $3 million in suspected criminal proceeds. Members of the criminal enterprise used multiple shell corporations and functioning businesses to conceal their illegal gambling proceeds. 

The high-level managers of the criminal enterprise who were charged, many of whom are allegedly members of the Lucchese Crime Family, include George Zappola, 65, of Red Bank, New Jersey; Joseph R. “Big Joe” Perna, 56, of Belleville, New Jersey; John Perna, 47, of Little Falls, New Jersey; and Wayne Cross, 75, of Spring Lake, New Jersey. They are charged with first-degree racketeering and second-degree conspiracy to promote gambling and money laundering, among other crimes. 

“Romanticized versions of organized crime have been the subject of countless movies and television shows, often set right here in the Garden State,” said Attorney General Platkin. “But the reality isn’t romantic or cinematic. It’s about breaking the laws the rest of us follow and, ultimately, it’s about money, control, and the threat of violence. My office is bringing every resource available to crack down on violent criminals – including organized crime – and will root it out in all of its forms. And that is exactly what we have done.” 

“In the complaint we’re announcing today, we allege that members and associates of the Lucchese Crime Family operated illegal card games and sports betting books in northern New Jersey,” said DCJ Director Theresa L. Hilton. “This can lead to other criminal activity, such as money laundering and theft. Two of the defendants are charged with stealing from local retailers in addition to their roles in the gambling operation. These are not so-called ‘victimless’ crimes, and we take seriously our responsibility to root out these illegal enterprises.” 

“Criminal enterprises like this pose a serious threat to the safety and well-being of our communities, driving illegal gambling, money laundering, and racketeering operations that value profit over people,” said Colonel Patrick J. Callahan, Superintendent of the New Jersey State Police. “Thanks to our detectives’ tireless work and unwavering commitment, this operation was successfully dismantled — sending a strong message that we will not tolerate this kind of criminal activity in New Jersey.” 

According to the complaint, the gambling operations included social clubs that housed live poker games and gambling machines, as well as an extensive online sportsbook operated through several websites based outside of the United States. Each poker club was operated by high-level managers that delegated day-to-day operations to managers who were present during poker games. 

Managers collected monetary dues, called “rent,” from poker hosts for permitting the games to occur and oversaw employees who worked in the clubs. Poker hosts were responsible for recruiting their own players, supplying food and drink for the games, and financially staking the game. The host, commonly known as the “house,” made a profit off the games because the dealer took a percentage of the monies bet by the players as a profit for the house for each hand played (a “rake”). The dealers were either paid by the hosts or were working off prior gambling debts owed to the hosts of the game. The clubs also housed gambling machines that players could use while waiting for a seat at a live poker game. 

The online sportsbook was operated by “agents” — who, before the advent of computerized betting, would have been known as “bookies” – that created accounts on sports gambling websites based in foreign countries. These agents managed “packages” – groups of individual bettors. Sub-agents and agents were responsible for the gambling winnings and losses of bettors in their packages and kicked up a portion of the criminal proceeds to the high-level management of the enterprise. 

As alleged, the high-level management made operational decisions, settled disputes, and used threats to collect overdue debts. The enterprise also used websites to facilitate illegal online sports betting. The websites, through the individuals that owned, operated, and controlled them, were one part of this criminal enterprise controlling illegal gambling activities in northern New Jersey and other areas. The websites allowed traditional organized crime members and associates to use the internet and current technology to engage in the same criminal acts that traditional organized crime has engaged in since the 19th century.

The following charged defendants are alleged to have the below listed positions in the criminal enterprise: 

• George J. Zappola, 65, of Red Bank, New Jersey, Lucchese ruling panel
• Joseph R. Perna, 56, of Belleville, New Jersey, Lucchese captain
• John G. Perna, 47, of Little Falls, New Jersey, Lucchese soldier
• Wayne D. Cross, 75, of Spring Lake, New Jersey, Lucchese soldier
• Michael P. Frasso, 48, of Cedar Grove, New Jersey, sportsbook agent
• Gerard V. Frasso, 46, of Cedar Grove, New Jersey, sportsbook agent
• Anand U. Shah, 42, of Prospect Park, New Jersey, sportsbook agent/poker manager
• Roberto Aliano, 45, of Wayne, New Jersey, poker-club manager
• Frank Gallipoli III, 57, of Totowa, New Jersey, poker-club manager
• Frank Imparato, 46, of Saddle Brook, New Jersey, poker-club manager
• Mario Capalbo, 71, of Woodland Park, New Jersey, poker-club manager and gambling-machine supplier
• Ralph P. Gibilisco, 65, of East Hanover, New Jersey, poker-club manager
• Linda Gibilisco, 60, of East Hanover, New Jersey, poker-club employee
• John T. Capone, 60, of Belleville, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Issa Sebahie, 50, of Edgewater, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent/poker host and dealer
• Michael A. Khoury, 33, of Edgewater, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Robert M. Filippini, 54, of Wayne, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Jahed Ali, 33, of Paterson, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent/poker dealer and promoter
• Christopher M. Trimble, 52, of Lincroft (Middletown Township), New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Stephen D. Prince, 64, of Wayne, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Steven Bongo, 65, of West Caldwell, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Steven M. Romano, 43, of Lincoln Park, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Richard J. Belle, 39, of Wayne, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Roberto Roman Jr., 47, of Basking Ridge (Bernards Township), New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Samuel R. Shirak, 33, of North Haledon, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Louis D’Alessandro, 63, of Cedar Grove, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Joseph J. Gossweiler, 41, of Florham Park, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent/poker-club manager
• James A. Romano, 37, of Island Heights, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent
• Mohamed H. Nassar, 38, of West New York, New Jersey, poker host
• Ramze Hassan, 47, of Totowa, New Jersey, poker-club employee
• Giovanni G. Gallipoli, 27, of Totowa, New Jersey, poker-club employee
• Jose D. Hernandez, 50, of Totowa, New Jersey, poker-club employee
• Samir S. Nadkarni, 48, of Longwood, Florida, sportsbook sub-agent/poker host
• Naser M. Matari, 56, of Paterson, New Jersey, poker host
• Michael J. Ricciardi, 38, of Brandon, Florida, sportsbook sub-agent/poker host
• Joan E. Santana-Suarez, 42, of Dover, New Jersey, sportsbook sub-agent/poker host
• Justin Kim, 51, of Haworth, New Jersey, poker host
• Jamil Sadullayev, 46 of Montvale, New Jersey, money launderer 

All the defendants have been charged with racketeering (1st degree), conspiracy to promote gambling and money laundering (2nd degree), while certain defendants have additionally been charged with money laundering (1st degree), criminal usury (2nd degree), gambling offenses (3rd and 4th degree), and other offenses. 

The investigation also revealed that Ali Radwan, 53, of Woodland Park, New Jersey, allegedly engaged in a continuous series of retail thefts with Frank Gallipoli III, 57, of Totowa, New Jersey. Radwan and Gallipoli were charged with theft by unlawful taking (3rd degree) for thefts at various locations, most regularly Home Depot, where they allegedly shoplifted home improvement items needed for renovations on “flip” properties purchased by Gallipoli, alleged to be a method to launder and invest his criminal proceeds. Home Depot representatives have confirmed at least $22,000 in merchandise was taken without payment by Gallipoli and Radwan. 

The defendants were making their initial court appearances in state Superior Court in Morris County on Thursday, April 10.

The charges and allegations are merely accusations, and the defendants are presumed innocent unless and until proven guilty in court. 

First-degree charges carry a sentence of 10 to 20 years in state prison and a fine up to $200,000. Second-degree charges carry a sentence of five to 10 years in state prison and a fine of up to $150,000. Third-degree charges carry a sentence of three to five years in prison and a fine of up to $15,000. Fourth-degree offenses could lead to up to 18 months in state prison and a fine of up to $10,000. 

Deputy Attorneys General Heather Hausleben and William Cooper-Daub are prosecuting the case for DCJ, under the supervision of Assistant Attorney General Erik Daab. The case was investigated by Detective Sergeant Michael Gallant, under the supervision of Lt. David Lysek and Lt. Scott Sanders of the New Jersey State Police. Attorney General Platkin thanked the New Jersey State Police, FBI New Jersey – Newark and Red Bank, FBI New York City, the U,S. Marshals, Federal Probation, and the Department of Corrections Special Operations Group for their valuable contributions to the investigation.

Pennsylvania Man Charged With Making Threats To Assault And Murder President Donald J. Trump, Other U.S. Officials, And Immigration And Customs Enforcement Agents

The U.S. Justice Department released the information below:

Shawn Monper, 32, a resident of Butler, Pennsylvania, has been charged by federal criminal complaint with making threats to assault and murder President Donald J. Trump, other U.S. officials, and U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents.

“I want to applaud the outstanding and courageous investigative work of the FBI and the Butler Township Police Department, who thankfully identified and apprehended this individual before he could carry out his threats against President Trump’s life and the lives of other innocent Americans,” said Attorney General Pamela Bondi. “Rest assured that whenever and wherever threats of assassination or mass violence occur, this Department of Justice will find, arrest, and prosecute the suspect to the fullest extent of the law and seek the maximum appropriate punishment.”

Acting U.S. Attorney Troy Rivetti for the Western District of Pennsylvania joined Attorney General Bondi in making today’s announcement.

According to the federal criminal complaint, on April 8, the FBI National Threat Operations Section (NTOS) received an emergency disclosure regarding threats posted to YouTube by user “Mr Satan.” Federal agents determined that the threatening statements occurred between Jan 15 April 5. The subsequent federal investigation affirmed that the internet activity associated with “Mr Satan” corresponded with Monper’s residence.

The investigation further established that Monper sought and obtained a firearms permit shortly following President Trump’s inauguration. In February 2025, Monper commented using his “Mr Satan” account: “I have bought several guns and been stocking up on ammo since Trump got in office.” Further, in March 2025, Monper commented using his account: “Eventually im going to do a mass shooting.” One week later, Monper commented: “I have been buying 1 gun a month since the election, body armor, and ammo.”

The criminal complaint identified the following threatening statements regarding President Trump, other United States officials, and ICE agents:

February 17, 2025: “Nah, we just need to start killing people, Trump, Elon, all the heads of agencies Trump appointed, and anyone who stands in the way. Remember, we are the majority, MAGA is a minority of the country, and by the time its time to make the move, they will be weakened, many will be crushed by these policies, and they will want revenge too. American Revolution 2.0”

March 4, 2025: “im going to assassinate him myself.” This threat was made in a YouTube video titled “Live: Trump’s address to Congress.”

March 18, 2025: “ICE are terrorist people, we need to start killing them.”

April 1, 2025: “If I see an armed ice agent, I will consider it a domestic terrorist, and an active shooter and open fire on them.”

On April 9, the FBI, with the assistance of the Butler Township Police Department, arrested Monper on the federal criminal complaint. On April 10, Monper was ordered detained pending preliminary and detention hearings scheduled for April 14, at 1:00 pm.

The FBI and Butler Township Police Department are investigating the case.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Brendan J. McKenna is prosecuting the case.

A criminal complaint is merely an accusation. All defendants are presumed innocent unless and until proven guilty.