I got ahold of A’s phone call number list at the office in
which she had the public and private numbers for all of R’s inner circle,
including R’s most private number – adding a bit of after-the-fact evidence
that she was secretly working on his behalf as a spy in O’s campaign.
What shocked me, however, was discovering Michael Sciara’s private
number, something only a few very, very powerful people have.
Sciara is the godfather for mob, running nearly all of the
trucking operations out of Canada.
I know him because he is very close to my mob widow friend
in Secaucus, who had introduced me to him during one of his rare trips down to
Hudson County.
He liked me because she liked me, but also because I was
related to a North Bergen made man named Michael Favata, who had helped Scaria
get into the business.
Favata is my grandfather’s uncle, someone my grandfather brought
me to see when I was very young, to get his blessing because I was my grandfather’s
first grandson (he took me around to see all of the relatives, all of whom
remembered me many years later, including Michael’s sister, who I visited just
after my mother died, and she remembered me and the family tales associated
with me.
Sciara had become the Godfather after Bobby Mana (the
Hometown godfather who had unsuccessfully plotted the murder of Gotti, and was
eventually brought down by the feds, who had turned one of Mana’ henchmen, a
Hometown cop who also had ties to R.
All this suggests that our poet friend may have been on the tail
end of something far more nefarious than even I might have imagined.
A should not have had Scaria’s number, and sine GA – our hometown
blogger – believes our Poet and A were joined at the hips, but default, our
poet was keeping rather powerful company, whether she knew it or not.
Associated with R and Carmelo was yet another player Joey B,
who ran a somewhat questionable night club at the other end of town, a place loaded
with prostitutes and cocaine, a man who was protected by the feds for helping
them bust a number of Gotti-owned restaurants and clubs in New York City a few
years earlier, possibly one in which our poet worked prior to coming on board
with us (although I have not proof of this association).
Whether or not our poet had connections to Scaria, I do not
know. I asked my mafia widow to ask Sciara, and through her, Scaria’s reply was
that I should not ask about any of “that mess” in hometown. He was obviously
pissed at how things had turned out in the election.
This one little nugget raises a lot of questions about what
went on inside the paper before our poet left, and whether it was more than
just RR pulling her strings.
Did my friend, J, the political consultant, who helped run O’s
campaign have anything to do with our poet? He already had a lot of control
over the male owner by giving us regular ads. Did he also have anything to do
with our poet and RR’s plot to bring down the congressman?
I suspect not, because J is deeply tied to the Small Man,
who is chief of staff for the congressman, and it would not be in his best
interest to let RR go after his bread and butter.
But it is curious how many pieces in this puzzle are
connected.
I asked the widow if she knew anybody else I might talk to
about these connections. She said if Sciara won’t help me – and I’m almost
blood to him – then nobody else will either.
The fact that Scaria gave me his private number was amazing, she said,
but this is business, and he wouldn’t want me interfering with it.
All this takes conspiracy too far. And I suspect our poet
really wasn’t as far up the food chain as all this might suggest, bad enough I
suspect her of influencing D, our owner and our former temporary boss. And yet,
A appears to be a close friend of our poet, and A has the private number to one
of the most powerful mobsters on the East Coast. This has to mean something, even
if I’m not sure what.
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