most wanted by lt. thomas j. foley - read an excerpt!

8/2/2019 Most Wanted by Lt. Thomas J. Foley - read an excerpt!

1/19


2/19


3/19

Pring Whitey Blger,

the Murderous Mob Chief the FBI Secretly Protected


4/19

Thomas J. Foley

and John Sedgwick

A TouchsTone Book

Published by Simon & Schuster

New York London Toronto Sydney New Delhi


5/19

Touchstone

A Division o Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue o the Americas

New York, NY 10020

Copyright 2012 by Thomas J. Foley and John Sedgwick

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereoin any orm whatsoever. For inormation address Touchstone Subsidiary Rights

Department, 1230 Avenue o the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Touchstone hardcover edition May 2012

TOUCHSTONE and colophone are registered trademarks o Simon & Schuster, Inc.

For inormation about special discounts or bulk purchases, please contact Simon &

Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].

The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. Formore inormation or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers

Bureau at 866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

Designed by Joy OMeara

Manuactured in the United States o America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library o Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Foley, Thomas J.Most wanted : pursuing Whitey Bulger, the murderous mob chie the FBI secretly

protected / Thomas J. Foley and John Sedgwick.

p. cm.

Includes index.

1. Bulger, Whitey, 1929 2. GangstersMassachusettsBostonBiography.

3. MurderersMassachusettsBostonBiography. 4. Organized crime

MassachusettsBostonBiography. I. Sedgwick, John, 1954 II. Title.

HV6452.M4F65 2012

364.1092dc23 2012005940

ISBN 978-1-4516-6391-4

ISBN 978-1-4516-6394-5 (ebook)


6/19

I want to dedicate this book to my wie, Marguerite.

She has been my wie and best riend or thirty-fve years.

Without her love, support, and understanding during a very

demanding career, I would not have been successul.TF

For my moll, R.JS


7/19

Contents

Part one

Where Im Coming From 1

Part twoGetting Whitey 63

Part threeThe Big Reveal 133

Part FourBodies of Evidence 177

Part FiveThe Big Picture 267

Epilogue 303

Appendix 307

Acknowledgments 321

Index 327


8/19

ParT oneWhere Im cming Frm


9/19

3

ChaPter 1

I wa dead aleep when the all ame in that Jne night in 2011, and I hadto grope or the phone by the bed. It was Colonel Marian McGovern,

the superintendent o the Massachusetts State Police, my old job. She

was telling me something about Whitey Bulger, but I couldnt quite ol-

low it.

Sorry. Can you say that again? I asked. What was that? I was sure

I was dreaming.

Whitey Bulger, Tommy, she repeated. He was captured in Caliornia.

Wait. What? I was ully awake now. My wie pulled hersel up in bed

beside me.

The colonel still had to say it all one more time beore it could sink in.

When did this happen?

About an hour ago. The FBI captured him in Santa Monica. I got a

call rom Special Agent DesLauriers. He was in charge o the FBIs Bos-

ton oce. I thought youd want a heads-up.

Santa Monica, I repeated. Jesus.A ew blocks rom the beach. Hed been renting an apartment there

with his girlriend. Catherine Greig, the woman hed fed Boston with,

back in 1995. I remembered her well. A real ballbuster, over twenty years

younger than Whitey. Wed wanted to search her town house or Whitey

the night he fed, but wed been running all over the place trying to nd

him. When we showed up at her door, she reused to let us in. No war-

rant? she sneered. Then go uck yourselves. Then she slammed thedoor in our aces.

That was our last chance o catching Whitey that night. Or or the next


10/19

Most Wanted

4

sixteen years. Over time, he got up to secondjust behind Osama Bin

Ladenon the FBIs most wanted ugitive list, with a $2 million reward

on his head. And then he was number one.Wheres Whitey?that game was always un to play. I had him in

Cuba. I gured his money would hold up, it had great beaches, and there

was no extradition treaty with the United States.

I had the beach part right, but I certainly didnt pick him or Santa

Monica. And not in the same third-foor apartment, steps rom the piers,

or the last ourteen years. Nobody guessed that.

When I nished the call, I lled in my wie, Marguerite, whod suered

through the Whitey investigation even more than I did. They got him,

I told her. In Santa Monica. I didnt have to say who.

You might think Id eel rustrated not to have bagged the guy mysel,

but I was just glad that somebody got him. It didnt matter to me who it

was, and it still doesnt. Just so long as Whitey rots in prison now.

I called up Danny Doherty and Stevie Johnson, two members o the

Whitey team I put together, and told them the news. They wouldnt mind

being woken up or this.

Well, its about time, Stevie said.

All three o usDanny, Stevie, and mehad been araid wed never

get him. Either hed slip away orever, or hed turn up dead. Hed just stay

out there somehow, permanently out o reach.

They better hang on to him, Danny said. Thats all I can say.

It want r anther day r that we gt pitre. Blger bald, with a mnk-

ish white beard and a loopy grin on his ace, Greig looking gray and de-

eated. Both o them stooped with age. Some people thought Whitey

might be seriously ill. I dont know about that, but he did look weak.

Hed always been about powerhaving it, projecting it. He was not a big

man, but his arms and shoulders had always been heavily muscled. Now

that strength was all gone, and he looked like just another tired old man,maybe a ew years away rom using a cane or a walker.

For a guy who was one o the most sought-ater ugitives in the en-


11/19

Whe re I m Com ing Fr om

5

tire world, hed proved surprisingly easy to apprehend. The FBI had been

tipped o about his name and address, lured him into the garage, clapped

the handcus on him, and that was it. You had to wonder how hard theFBI had been trying or the past sixteen years. That whole time, Whitey

had been hiding in plain sight, lying out on the beach, maybe a little quiet

with the neighbors, his bedroom window blacked out. It took sixteen

years or someone at the Bureau to gure outhow about we try looking

or her? Shes probably not as careul as a mobster about hiding her tracks.

It seemed pretty basic to me, but apparently not to the FBI.

When Whitey was captured and fown back to Boston, he was the talk o the

city, and much o the country, too. I knew him as a endish killer, but to

lots o people in Boston he was just a character. Thats how he was seen

in the tony parts o town like Cambridge, the Back Bay, and Beacon Hill.

In tougher neighborhoods like Charlestown, the North End, and Southie,

Whitey was almost the unocial mayor, as plenty o people there thought

o him as a Robin Hood who always had a ew bucks or some turkeys to

give to the poor at Thanksgiving. That drove me nuts. Whitey Bulger sure

as hell didnt give anything away. He was a murderer, a drug dealer, an

extortionist, a thug. He was like the Boston Strangler or Joe The Animal

Barboza or Johnny Martorano, only worse because he did more damage

over a much longer time. These were not gentle guys, and Whitey wasnt

gentle either.

Lots o people lined the streets to watch Whitey be taken by police

SUV and, escorted by state troopers, rom Logan Airport to the new

Joseph A. Moakley ederal courthouse on the South Boston waterront.

On TV, I watched Whitey emerge rom the SUV, and he walked, in hand-

cus and leg irons, to the courthouse, a ederal Marshal on each arm. I

saw the halting gait, the hunched shoulders. Waiting or him inside was

his brother, the ormer state senate president, Billy Bulger, whod lost his

job as president o the University o Massachusetts or reusing to tell acongressional committee what he knew about his brothers whereabouts

during Whiteys fight. This rst court appearance o Whiteys was brie,


12/19

Most Wanted

6

since it was to see i he qualied or bail. Since he had been the most

wanted ugitive in America, the answer would be no.

It wasnt or another month that I laid eyes on him mysel. Id beenwaiting or that moment ever since we rst started up the investigative

unit to get him in 1990. That was over two decades, a good chunk o

my lie spent on Whitey Bulger, but Id never once seen him, at least not

denitively. In late July ater his capture, though, he was to be ormally

arraigned, and I drove in rom my home in Worcester to see him in the

ederal courthouse. I sat with the victims amilies in the small spectators

gallery. Id done what I could to nd out what had happened to their

loved ones; beore our investigation, many o them had never known

or sure. The news wasnt happy. In every case, a member o their am-

ily had been murdered by Whitey, oten in a hideous ashion. But, pain-

ul as that was, they were grateul to know. Now they came up to shake

my hand, with some warm words. Some o them were tearul. I sat next

to Steve Davis, the burly brother o Debbie Davis. Starting in her late

teens, shed been the girlriend o Stevie Flemmi, Whiteys close associ-

ate. When Flemmi tired o her, Whitey strangled her or him. Wed ound

the corpse, buried on a beach not ar rom where Whitey lived with Cath-

erine Greig. Now Steve Davis greeted me with a clap on the back like a

amily member.

Finally, a door opened, and there was Whitey. Clad in an orange prison

jumpsuit, his legs clapped in irons, he shufed into the court, a U.S. Mar-

shal holding tight to each arm. His brothers Jack and Billy Bulger were

there in ront-row seats, and he shot them a look o hello, with a littlewave. The brothers nodded back with hal smiles. Beside me, I could tell

Steve Davis was tensing up, his breath coming heavy, obviously inuri-

ated to see his sisters killer a ew eet rom him. I was araid he might

leap rom his seat and charge at Bulger. Instead, he blew out several long

breaths and dried his hands on his pants. Whitey took a seat in a chair at

the deendants table, acing the judge, his back to us. All around me, the

victims amilies stared hard at Whiteys back, their gaze like bullets.Whitey was detestable, yes. But mostly what he seemed to me right

then was small. And old. Beaten looking. All the lie had drained out o


13/19


14/19

8

ChaPter 2

At chritma in 1991, we were abt a year int the Blger invetigatin. Iwas with a ew guys rom my team at Joe Tecces, the big, splashy restau-

rant in the North End. Big John Tutungian, Sly Scanlan, our hookup guy

Chuck Hanko, and a ew others. It was the annual Christmas party o the

Boston oce o the FBI or a lot o law enorcement people around New

England.

FBI special agent John Connolly, one o the bigger showboats, always

played the host. Remember, this was when the local FBI and the State Po-

lice were supposedly working night and day to get Whitey Bulger arrested

and sent away. Guess where the booze came rom. A liquor store called the

Rotary Variety in South Boston that was owned by Whitey Bulger himsel.

That was the rumor back then, that Connolly picked it up there himsel,

and it turned out to be the truth: we were drinking Whiteys booze.

My guys were bothered by the idea, needless to say. We drank, sure,

but the beer did not go down easy. But, starting with Connolly, a lot o

FBI agents seemed to think it was a matter or a ew jokes, some heartyclaps on the back, and maybe another round on Whitey.

The u.s. Attrney ofe in Btn al had me law enrement peple in

rom around New England or a little get-together rom time to time. A

bunch o FBI agents swung by or one o them that year, 1991, and some

Staties, including me. By then, wed started to make some serious prog-ress on the Bulger investigation, and I was eeling good about how things

were coming along. A couple o agents clanged beer bottles together and


15/19


9

yelled or quiet and then they announced they wanted to make a pre-

sentation. They did it up big, asked all o us to crowd around, and got

all solemn. When everyone was quiet, one o the FBI agents called out:Everyone, this is a very special occasion or all o us here, and wed like to

present an award to a distinguished trooper rom the State Police. Would

Corporal Tom Foley please step orward?

There was a little too much tittering in the crowd. My riend Fred

Wyshak, the assistant U.S. attorney, had been given an award rom the

eds just the year beore, and he didnt appreciate his very much. So I

stayed right where I was.

Tom Foley, please? one o them repeated.

By now, the room was dead silent. I still didnt move, so the eds came

toward me, and drew many o the attendees, many o them my superiors

in the State Police, in a ring around us. One o the agents made a little

ununny speech about my investigative zeal in the Bulger case. That got

some laughs, but not many.

Then the two agents handed me my award, which was wrapped up in

tissue paper. Go ahead, Tom, open it up, one o them told me.

I pulled the tissue paper away, and scanned the plaque. It read: The

Most Hated Man in Law Enorcement. It had a picture o me with my

name underneath.

They wanted me to read it out to the crowd, but no way. So one o

them did the honors, while I just glared at him.

The FBI agents in the crowd got a chuckle out o it, but not too many

other people did, and I certainly didnt. Still, the agents shook my hand,looked me dead in the eye, and said, Congratulations, Trooper, youve

earned it.

I still have that trophy someplace, and whenever I want to remember

what it was really like to work on that case, I take it down and look at it.

Then everything comes rushing back.

The mt hated man in law enrement. Im prd that, prder that

than I have been o any other award I have ever received. This book is


16/19

Most Wanted

10

about how I earned that honor. Its the story o my twenty-year quest to

bring Whitey Bulger to justice when hardly anyone outside my little band

o overworked State Police investigatorslike Tutungian, Scanlan, andHanko; and a dogged agent rom the DEA named Dan Doherty; and a ew

others who came latergave a shit, quite rankly, and the FBI did about

everything in its power to stop us.

In 1990, when our investigation kicked in, Whitey Bulger was by ar

the most dominant gure in the Irish mob. The Maa had started to fame

out, leaving the Irish mob about the only mob with any impact in Boston.

Steve Flemmi, or Steve The Rifeman Flemmi, as the newspapers always

put it (so named or his lethal shooting skills as a paratrooper during

the Korean War), came in second to Whitey. Flemmi was up there largely

because he was tight with Bulger; Whitey would have ranked regardless.

Still, Flemmi was the only mobster Whitey trusted, had ever trusted, or

even spoke to on any kind o regular basis. Third was probably Cadillac

Frank Salemme, so named or his avorite car, who had recently emerged

rom prison to claim control o what was let o the New England Maa.

Hed relied on Flemmi or help in getting established, which meant that

he was drawing on Whiteys reputation, too. In the Boston mob scene,

Whitey had all the powerothers simply borrowed it. But all three o

these men were woven in tightly to our case.

By 1990, Bulger was sitting on a criminal empire the newspapers

pegged at $50 million. It came rom his marijuana smuggling, cocaine

dealing, extortion, illegal liquor distribution, pilerage, racketeering,

gaming, and loan-sharking, but hed do about anything i enough moneywas on the table. Although he was rarely seen around town, even in South

Boston, his presence was everywhere. I there was a crime anywhere in

the city that involved scaring the crap out o someone, it was probably

Whiteys doing. I there was a legitimate business to be muscled in on,

Whitey again. I someone needed to be made an example o, Whitey.

Whitey was just plain smarter than the other mobsters, better con-

nected, with keener instincts. But most important o all, he was utterlyruthless. More than most gangsters, Whitey could always think several

steps ahead, sure. But it was his ability to scare the shit out o people


17/19


11

that made the dierence. Terror was his business. It wasnt just killing

people. All mobsters killed people. By now, Whiteys ocial tally is up to

nineteen, but the real count is probably twice that, i you add up all thevirtual unknowns rom the gangland wars earlier on when he was making

a name or himsel as a killer. Those victims werent widely missed ater

their bodies were dropped into the trunk o a car, or dumped in some

alley. But more than the numbers, it was the way he killed, at extremely

close range, the tip o the gun right up in the victims aces, so that last

thing they saw on this earth was Whitey Bulger hovering over them, rel-

ishing it, beore he blew them away, the blood splattering on him, like that

brought him the greatest satisaction there was. People who were there

told us that Whitey liked to lie down aterward, and a weird calm would

descend over him. Like hed taken a Valium, one o them said. And the

whole scene was so grotesque, so horrible, he knew that word would get

out about what hed done, and that this would be good or him, too. Do

that enough, and you have to do it less. Whitey Bulger has to be the most

cold-blooded killer in Bostons history. I he isnt, I wouldnt want to

know the guy who is.

None o this was a big secret in Boston. Most people knew the basics

o what Whitey was about. But until we came along, no one in law en-

orcement had been able to do what law enorcement is supposed to do

get a bastard like that o the street beore he kills somebody else. Whitey

had been at large since 1965, when he emerged rom his only prison stint,

served mostly in Leavenworth and Alcatraz or a string o bank robberies,

the last one in the Midwest. Since then, he hadnt been touched by lawenorcement. Never questioned, never indicted, never arrested. Not once.

It was as i Whitey Bulger was a model citizen.

To the FBI, it was like Bulger didnt matter. Despite his earsome repu-

tation, he had nothing to do with anything. Well, we thought dierently.

There are plenty o things to say about the FBI, but Ill save most o them

or later. For now, Ill just say that I have never known any other organiza-

tions, or any individuals, where what they said and what they did had solittle to do with each other. But the unny part is that the FBI thinks this

is ne, even now. Since I got that Most Hated award, ederal judges, con-


18/19

Most Wanted

12

gressional committees, and countless newspaper accounts have all agreed

that the FBIs problems go very deep. They did here. The eds stymied our

investigation o Whitey, got us investigated on bogus claims, tried to pushme o the case, got me banished to a distant barracks, phonied up charges

against other members o the State Police, lied to reporters, misled Con-

gress, drew in the president o the United States to save themselves, nearly

got me and my investigators killed, andwell, Ill tell you and.

The Most Hated Man in Law Enorcement, indeed.


19/19

To keep reading, order your copy ofMost Wanted today!

HARDCOVER

EBOOK

Available wherever books are sold

Visit www.mostwantedbook.com for more
http://amzn.to/zSdEdnhttp://pages.simonandschuster.com/mostwanted-2http://pages.simonandschuster.com/mostwanted-2http://bit.ly/A0Oqo3http://amzn.to/zSdEdnhttp://bit.ly/AotCJshttp://bit.ly/xCJd1whttp://bit.ly/yYGT8Qhttp://bit.ly/wAIlSchttp://bit.ly/zzW6uohttp://bit.ly/zzW6uohttp://amzn.to/A7eWEd

most wanted by lt. thomas j. foley - read an excerpt!

Documents