Business or Blood (23 page)

After high school, Larry worked for a time running video poker machines with Nick Rizzuto Jr. Larry's perspective changed forever late on the night of Wednesday, April 29, 1992, after police found his father's body wrapped in plastic and dumped by the side of railway tracks in northeast Montreal. Joe Lo Presti's pager was ringing as police approached his corpse. When they contacted the caller, they found it was twenty-three-year-old Larry, who was summoned in to identify his father at the Parthenais Street morgue.

The working police theory was that the senior Lo Presti had trusted his killer up until the final instant of his life, when someone put a small-calibre bullet in his head. Whoever he met in a downtown restaurant that day had likely set him up for murder, and perhaps also drove him to his death, since Lo Presti's Porsche was found parked outside the restaurant. Perhaps that so-called friend even fired the fatal bullet. Did Lo Presti suspect anything was wrong as he left the restaurant? The killer left some four thousand dollars on the body, a sign of either arrogance or respect. The execution remained unsolved, but it was widely accepted by police that Vito's hand guided the crime.

One theory concerned five kilograms of heroin that had gone missing in France. That heroin had been Lo Presti's responsibility, and the gangsters who paid for shipment were in no mood for excuses. A second possibility was that New York mob boss John Gotti had ordered him killed for undisclosed reasons. With Gotti's mercurial temper, lives often ended quickly with little explanation. Although Joe Lo Presti was Vito's neighbour and close associate, if the second theory was true, Vito had apparently conceded to Gotti's demand to sate the American's anger.

Vito attended the funeral, and perhaps he felt true sadness, if not guilt, as the killing had been for business and not personal reasons. Not long after that, the Lo Presti family home on Mafia Row went up for
sale and the family moved away. Any friendship Larry felt for Nick Jr. soon evaporated.

In the wake of his father's death, it wasn't surprising that Larry Lo Presti gravitated towards the American newcomer Montagna. Also leaning towards Montagna were Antonio (Waldo, W., Tony Suzuki) Pietrantonio and Domenico Arcuri Sr., who took it upon himself to introduce Montagna to others in the
milieu
who might become useful allies. One was Giuseppe (Closure) Colapelle, who was freed on parole back in June 2004, although he would prove more comfortable in the orbit of Raynald Desjardins.

As they jockeyed for new alliances, no one was about to publicly declare war on Vito's family or anyone else. No one even wanted to acknowledge that the
milieu
had split into opposing camps. Far better to feign friendship and strike unexpectedly. On the surface, Vito's former allies still got along and shared BlackBerry PINs. The smart phone's purportedly unbeatable encryption capability was sought out by businessmen and politicians, including American president Barack Obama and the US Defense Department. Not surprisingly, for the same reasons, it was also popular with criminals.

Perhaps there was no need for a war with the Rizzutos. Vito's family hadn't retaliated after the murder of Nick Jr. or the disappearance of
consigliere
Paolo Renda. No response followed the murders of long-time Rizzuto family loyalist Agostino Cuntrera and his bodyguard Liborio Sciascia. The family appeared passive after the slaying of Nicolò. So it was understandable that many of Vito's former associates found the prospect of aligning themselves with Salvatore Montagna or Raynald Desjardins to be a reasonable response to this new post-Rizzuto underworld order.

There were still a few glimmers of life on Vito's side, if one looked hard enough. Vito loyalist Rocco (Sauce) Sollecito was paroled in June 2011. Police had already warned the sixty-two-year-old behind bars that his life was in danger. “Your file contains extensive information in connection with your safety,” a parole decision read. Sollecito replied to parole authorities that he planned to support himself through legal activities and his pension.

By the middle of 2011, there had been so much change for everyone in the
milieu
to process. To help his boss, Desjardins, keep up with the times, Giuseppe (Closure) Colapelle assumed the role of a full-blown underworld spy, keeping tabs on the movements of Montagna and his camp. Colapelle feigned respect for the New Yorker while at the same time mocking him behind his back, often calling him Nancy—“NY” for New York, apparently, with the rest added to feminize it.

Colapelle reported that Montagna had moved out of his home in Saint-Hubert and was staying in a hotel. Did that have something to do with his girlfriend being in town? Or was he trying to hide out from Desjardins? Why hadn't he already moved to Woodbridge, Ontario, as planned?

Desjardins was on holiday in Europe with his wife in early August when Colapelle couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to explode. The Desjardins camp dripped with contempt for Montagna. When not calling him Nancy, they called him Mickey, short for Mickey Mouse. It was hard to take the newcomer from New York too seriously when he boasted that his guys would come by the dozens to support him. He sounded like a mouthy kid on the schoolyard, bragging about his tough big brother. Exactly where was his power base? What was left in New York? Was he talking about new contacts in Toronto, perhaps? Did the New Yorker really believe he could just show up in their city and take control?

As Desjardins chilled in Europe, black street gangs started venturing into cafés on Vito's old turf and requesting envelopes—protection money. They weren't collecting for themselves. If Montagna's loudmouth men hadn't already failed to impress Colapelle, here they were using black gang members as collectors, which he didn't particularly like; somehow, it seemed more respectable when extortion payments were demanded by Italian mobsters.

Meanwhile, Colapelle worried about the possibility of an information leak in the Desjardins group and called upon them to change their
BlackBerrys immediately. Whoever won the battle in cyberspace would likely win the war for the streets, and Closure didn't plan to make these hostilities easy for his enemies.

At 5:34 p.m. on August 15, 2011, Desjardins returned to Trudeau International Airport in Montreal on Flight TS711, after thirty days in Italy, Corsica and France. When police later checked his passport, they would find no trace of the extended trip. They did find other out-of-the-country jaunts, including a trip to Colombia from February 7 to 24, 2011, and another trip there a few months later, from April 11 to 21. His passport was stamped for a trip to the Bahamas in November 2009 and to the Dominican Republic on December 28, 2009. Interestingly, that was the day of Nick Jr.'s murder. The Quebec Hells Angels had set up a charter in the Caribbean island earlier that year, giving themselves and Desjardins a place to tan and talk, hopefully away from the eyes of Canadian police.

Colapelle had much to tell his boss. There was the trouble with the black gangs, but their new boss remained the priority. They needed to keep a constant eye on Montagna, who had recently changed his cars. They also needed guns.

By late August, Colapelle heard talk that some of Montagna's group would be playing golf in a tournament in a week's time. Perhaps Mickey would be on the links with them; despite the American's bluster, Colapelle had noticed that he actually kept a low profile. It would be a good chance to assess Mickey's Montreal power base. Perhaps the Arcuris would be there in their golf togs. Colapelle had no doubt that the family of Domenico Arcuri Sr. was now deeply entrenched in the Montagna camp. Domenico Sr. had once been considered a Rizzuto ally, but those days were long gone. The Arcuris had a history of backing winners, stretching back to the Rizzuto–Violi wars. Domenico Sr. was believed to have taken part in setting up Paolo Violi's 1978 execution, and it was Domenico Sr. who took over Violi's old ice cream business afterwards. Soon he became known by the happy title of “King of Ice Cream.” Aside from making a tasty product, he also helped the company grow by bombing a competitor in 1983 who dared sell his wares at Italian banquet halls. If the
King of Ice Cream wanted to continue backing winners, he had no more need for the Rizzutos.

Desjardins agreed to buy four tickets for the golf event, just to keep up the appearance of getting along. If the Desjardins side met with the Montagna people at the golf tournament, they would likely break out smiles and not guns. Civility helped keep an enemy off guard. Meanwhile, the Desjardins side looked about for more “toys,” a code word for guns. Pretence could keep the buildup of arms and resentments under wraps for only so long.

By mid-September 2011, there was talk among the Desjardins camp of another clumsy extortion attempt by the Montagna people. As the story went, some of Montagna's men went to a baker who had recently set up shop and told him he could no longer sell cold meat, just bread. The squeezing of the baker was typical of Montagna's aggressive, greedy push for
pizzo
, extortion money, which they preferred to think of as a tax.

Squeezing too hard on people outside the underworld—or “legits”—was a recipe for disaster. Squeeze legits too hard and they run to the police. Montagna didn't seem to understand or care.

T
he rifle shots made a harsh, metallic sound. Not the soft
pop-pop-pop
firecracker report of lower-powered automatic pistols, these sounded like iron hammers pounding on steel spikes. A little after 9:30 a.m. on September 16, 2011, two dozen shots were heard, rapid-fire, from Lévesque Boulevard near the Highway 25 toll bridge. They sounded close to Desjardins's luxury house on the Rivière des Prairies, in Laval's Saint-Vincent-de-Paul district. They were so loud they startled a lone passenger on a passing bus.

The gunfire originated near a clump of bushes on Desjardins's property, close to the river, where he often met with contacts. He was getting into his new black BMW X5 when the shooting began. Bodyguard Jonathan (Kid) Mignacca was sitting half in his Jeep. He fired twice at the black gunman, who was at a disadvantage as he was shooting uphill. Mignacca's show of force was enough to chase the assailant back to a waiting red Sea-Doo. Desjardins's BMW was pockmarked with bullets, but he didn't suffer a scrape. Mignacca received only minor wounds. The sole casualty that morning was the Sea-Doo, which was later discovered on the Montreal side of the river, torched.

Streets were closed off. Ford Fusions swarmed the area. Fusions were the cars of choice for undercover cops trying to look inconspicuous; several of them in one part of town was enough to make a pistol-packing
gangster's heart race. Members of Desjardins's group let out a collective sigh of relief when they learned that their leader—known in the group as “Old” and “China”—was okay. He had spent only a little time in the back of a police cruiser for questioning. Mignacca was in hospital, but doing well. While police found no gun on him, there were gunpowder traces on his hands and he faced charges for discharging a weapon.

Desjardins was remarkably cool during the questioning by police. Someone with a machine gun had just tried to fill him in and he didn't look a bit rattled. He also showed absolutely no interest in giving police any clues. They seized his car and Mignacca's BlackBerrys, hoping analysis would reveal information the gangster wouldn't.

The Montagna side reached out to Desjardins. Within hours of the attempted murder, they asked Giovanni Bertolo's younger brother Giuseppe to set up a face-to-face talk between Montagna and the Bertolos' boss as soon as possible. Giuseppe wasn't sure it was a good idea. It sounded like another attempt to get at Desjardins.

A Sûreté du Québec surveillance team watched as a black BMW X5 pulled into the Tim Hortons at 10005 Louis-H. Lafontaine Boulevard in Montreal at 3:23 p.m. Not long after that, a black-and-grey Ford Flex also appeared at the doughnut shop. Domenico Arcuri Jr. got out of the Beemer and Montagna stepped from the Flex, and they headed inside. Bertolo texted Vittorio Mirarchi to say the face-to-face meeting with the Montagna group was about to begin—without Desjardins.

Police watched from a distance as Montagna led the discussion. Montagna stressed that it wasn't his group behind the Desjardins murder bid. The real would-be assassins, according to Montagna, were the “family.” Montagna suggested that new Rizzuto leadership had now been established: Vito's mother, Zia Libertina. As he described it, all power flowed from the octogenarian. If Montagna was telling the truth, this was a development to be feared, not laughed off. Zia Libertina was a Mafia don's daughter, and she had recently lost both her husband and her eldest grandson to gunmen while her only son rotted in an American prison cell. It sounded absurd, that the acting boss of a New York Mafia family could be afraid of the wrath of a great-grandmother, but Mickey Mouse was clearly nervous.