The Good Rat (20 page)

I turned my back on organized crime so much, I just turned my back on it. I had no respect for them, I had no liking for them. I turned down every opportunity to speak to me.

My first fourteen years on the job, I worked in the Seventy-nine, the Seventy-seven, the Seventy-five, Twenty-five Precinct in Harlem. I was never associated or around them. Yet when I first got in trouble, I asked them, I begged them, show me a picture of me with any organized-crime families. Please, show me a photograph. Show me a phone tap with my name on it talking to somebody about anything about crime. And the one thing that I was so proud of as a human being, whether it is in jail or home or whether it is anywhere, that I have to go to my grave, is I was one hell of a cop. I tried my best on every case.

There were times where I used to go into the houses and tell people, I will work as hard to find out who took your baby’s carriage as for who killed somebody. I never felt that I was going to get into a thing like this or being introduced to a piece of garbage in the street and thinking he is a nice person. Nobody had to—had the audacity or the nerve to approach me and ask me if I wanted to earn money. I worked hard, I had three children, married to the same lady all these years. I never, ever, ever did anything, ever, that I would have to embarrass my children. Yet in the last two years when this all broke, I was willing to go to the government, sit there, and have them ask me any questions they could. I was willing to take my polygraph test. I took the so-called DNA test. Anything that was asked of me, I did. I just was not able to sit down and present a case, because I found it was so flawed to me, because I was a detective, I wasn’t a guy who worked on a truck. I know how these things are.

I worked cases with the government, I worked cases with the state, I worked cases with the city. I have been before judges, and I have said to them there is no reason for me to lie. I didn’t need thirty thousand dollars to harm Mr. Greenwald. I never heard Mr. Greenwald’s name in my life. When they mentioned it when we were incarcerated in Las Vegas, I said I never heard of a person like that, I never heard of the human being, I never heard of these times they said, Oh, you spoke to this guy. I never had access to them. I never had access to files or who it was.

When I heard this, I said to people, This is coming down on me because of who I am, who I was, not because of what I’ve done. I’ve always maintained my honesty, my integrity. I tried so hard. But I said to the government, Show me a piece of paper, a picture of me in a bar, in a club, show me. No, we don’t have it. Where did I meet an organized-crime figure? Where was my phone? My phone was open, I was in the phone book. Never did any of these things.

When they lock onto something, like I did as a detective, it stays there. Selectively, they said what they want. It was selective, and I’ll prove it to this court on a later date. It is all I have to say.

I apologize for having to speak for the first time until all this happened. I can hold my head up high. I never done any of this.

To Mrs. Hydell, Otto Heidel’s daughter, Mrs. Lino, and Mrs. Greenwald, please call the judge, let you visit me. If I can’t convince you I’m innocent, I will apologize. I didn’t do any of these crimes at all.

Thank you.

THE COURT:
Thank you.

Mr. Caracappa.

DEFENDANT CARACAPPA:
My lawyer will speak for me, Your Honor.

That was June 5, 2006. Jack B. Weinstein then went into his office and worked on a seventy-seven-page verdict, which he distributed on June 30 and the conclusion of which read:

As he said on that first day that they brought Burton Kaplan into his sealed courtroom to start the case, Weinstein believed that the government’s RICO charge ran afoul of the statute of limitations. He still did at the end. Ms. Lowe took the seventy-seven-page decision and handed it out to lawyers and news reporters. All the convictions for conspiracies to kill, to kidnap, to betray the citizens of the city—all were tossed out. Weinstein also had to allow new trials for money-laundering and narcotics charges. Immediately the prosecution started the work of appealing the judge’s ruling. At least many months could pass. Meanwhile, the Kings County district attorney’s office is still waiting, waiting for the case to leave federal hands so they can prosecute the cops for James Hydell’s murder.

Whatever happens while awaiting appeals and new trials and so on, the cops will be rotting in a prison cell. They will almost certainly do so until death.

There is one more matter to handle.

At 2:30
P.M.
on September 13, 2006, Burt Kaplan strides through the door and into the courtroom. Somewhere they are playing his music. He doesn’t look left, and he doesn’t look right. He has on a dark suit and a red tie and a face full of determination. He goes right to a table and sits down. He is here to claim his end of the agreement. He ended a public horror. Now he wants to walk out of jail. Payday.

A lawyer sits with him. Next enter two assistant U.S. Attorneys, Mitra Hormozi and Robert Henoch. Henoch is here from Fort Dix, where he has been recalled into the New Jersey National Guard as a lieutenant colonel.

Now in comes Federal District Court Judge Jack B. Weinstein in a double-breasted gray suit. He hadn’t put on robes once in the monthlong trial. He sits across from Kaplan with a large book of papers. Next to the judge is his assistant, June Lowe.

In a low voice, a conference voice, Weinstein says that on January 13, 1998, Burt had been sentenced to 324 months in prison. He has served nine years. That equals 108 months out of 324. Which leaves a way to go.

Weinstein observes that Kaplan’s testimony had been excruciatingly corroborated. What’s more, he says that at Kaplan’s behest, the murder of Virginia Robertson, killed in Brooklyn, was brought back. Eppolito had grabbed Barry Gibbs and framed him for the killing. Gibbs stood up in court and roared at Eppolito. The man committed no crime and yet served nineteen years in jail. Were it not for Kaplan, the agents never would have been able to obtain the warrant that let them into Eppolito’s house in Las Vegas. There, among many things, they found, like cards faceup on the table, the papers that had put Gibbs away. The witness against Gibbs had been coerced by the Mafia cop. Thanks to Kaplan, Gibbs was free.

Weinstein then goes to his book on Kaplan’s status under Rule 35, which dictates releases from prison. Weinstein reads the rule aloud about correcting errors. Subtitle B, within a year of sentencing, B2, and another initial, and then he looks at Henoch.

“You’re relying on B2 A, information not known until a year or more,” Weinstein says. Henoch says yes. Weinstein reads, “Prison assault case in 2004, Rule 35 not applicable without the Mexican…no reduction, an anomaly in the law that has serious complications in the law…. The defendant has an astounding memory…. He knows Eppolito’s girl, wife, knife collection. The wife was a blonde now, a brunette then…. The phone book…Santora phone slip in records of Peter Franzone….”

Then, as an aside, Weinstein says, “The family is not here. They should be.” A stinging lesson for all in trouble in the future.

A lawyer for Kaplan says, “The daughter was humiliated.”

“Nonsense,” Weinstein says. He asks Kaplan if he has anything to say.

So far nobody has told Burt that he will go home. All they’ve done is mention numbers that seem to disqualify him. Now they want a last plea. They could be putting him back forever. Kaplan tries the only thing he can trust: throw the truth right down the middle and see what happens.

“During this time my only concern was selfish and [to] try not to get caught…. I told the complete truth. I want to thank the agents and U.S. Attorneys who proved I could be trusted.”

Weinstein goes right back to his book. “Rule 35 C—a sentence more than one year from motion. Sub assistance complies…. Court has reduced sentence…. 35 B4 not directly applicable…. 5K…based on authority, time served.” Kaplan is having his freedom, the map of his new life, created as he sits.

Finally, Weinstein says, “On the agreement on the RICO, bail is two million. The house valued at over five hundred thousand dollars. Abscond?”

Henoch says, “No, sir. Bail is assured.”

Weinstein says, “Bail granted.”

A man is out of prison.

Burt Kaplan’s head drops on his chest. I am sitting behind his right shoulder, but his head is tilted to the left. I get up and move around so I can look directly at his face to see what emotion he displays.

His head is lowered only because he is signing papers. He is looking to his left because he is left-handed. His face is blank as he finishes signing.

He stands and says nothing and walks around the table and nods to nobody and looks at nobody and goes straight out the door.