Larry (Narrator of Mob Story) (20:43)
So one day we're in the office at the back of the Club, Greg's office. That's where we run our gambling and numbers from the day to day operations. And Donnie's one of our number runners. He comes walking in as usual. Donnie was a big guy, little heavy set, and he comes every single day to the club to drop off the numbers. Donnie came in the club. I was sitting at the desk. Greg Jr. Was on the couch. Bobby Zam was in there. Carmine Cessel was in there, part of Greg's crew. And when he came in, Donnie. I got up to let Donnie sit down, and I went and stood by the door. After Greg takes the money, counts it deliberately, he looks up to Donnie and he says, hey, Donnie, what is this I hear? I'm a rat. Everyone just got quiet now, in this life. And Greg told me this once before, if somebody calls you a rat, you have the right to kill them on the spot. They have to have proof. They have to be 100% certain to make a statement like that. What is this I hear? I'm a rat. Donnie's face turned white. You could see him getting clammy and sweaty. I mean, his temperature must have really shot up. And he tried to talk his way out of. He says, greg, come on. I was drunk. We were just having some nonsense talk. So Greg asked him, you don't have any proof? He says, no, of course not. I would never be able to prove something like that. It's not true. Did you have no proof? No. He reached into the drawer, pulled out a.38, and shot him from about two feet away, right across the desk. I was less than 6ft away when the gun blasted. Blood goes spraying around. We all sort of turned away. I remember Carmine diving away from the door. You know, nobody wants to get hit with a stray bullet or anything. The guy just fell to the floor. All of us were shocked because none of us knew this was gonna happen. Greg walked from behind the desk, and he put one more behind his ear. That's his trademark. He told Bobby, take a walk to the carpet store, which was just a block away. Order a carpet, roll this up and get it out of here. So we literally rolled him up in the carpet, carried him out in broad daylight, threw him in the trunk, and Carmine drove off with him. Me and Bobby walked to the carpet store, and he picked out this weird orange color. It was like a burnt orange. We had, like, brown paneling on the walls. The ceiling was probably a light cream color, and the color did not match Greg's office at all. We all just start laughing when we realize it doesn't really match. And that was an issue. Greg was upset about that. Bobby, what the fuck? What color is this? I mean, rust. How does rust match with my office? Bobby Zam is colorblind and nobody knew it. You think people would be more concerned with a stiff being carried out and thrown in a trunk in broad daylight? Greg could be so brazen. The wrong color carpet might have been a major irritation to Greg, but in my mind, I just witnessed a man being killed. There is no turning back. I don't know in my own heart of hearts or head what it is that really made me like him. As much as I cared for Greg and as much as I wanted to protect him, I understood that his nickname was there for a reason. He'll take you to dinner and for dessert, he'll kill you. There was no scruples. There was no ethics. He wanted to get a grenade launcher. Launched a grenade into one of the clubs that we knew would blow them all up. Our acting boss at the time said it's unethical. He had plans of dressing as FBI agents. I remember asking him, we're gonna need licenses or, you know, IDs and badges. Tells me, don't worry, I can get them. So I said, this guy's a genius. He can do everything. We get a message. Nikki Black sends a message to my Uncle Albert. He tells him he was gonna kill me. Nikki Black was a longtime good fella, longtime made guy. He was a scary guy. He had a scary look. But being Greg's right hand man, the Grim Reaper's right hand man, I wasn't ready for fear. I wasn't ready to be worried about him. I know he'll kill me if he gets a chance. There's no doubt about it. My main thing was we gotta get him first. Right around Christmas time, we're driving past Nikki's club. I had my binoculars. I was looking down the street and. And I spot him. That's Nicky's truck. There's Nikki. And Greg just said, let's get him. It was like a kid who found his lost dog. I had a baseball hat on, sunglasses and a bandana. Greg had a baseball hat and sunglasses. Jimmy had a baseball hat and sunglasses. So we were sort of looking like cops. Greg had his rifle. I was in the back with a shotgun. I was a backup shooter. Thank God, I was ready. So we started inching up. Niki, he takes off. He doesn't see us. We miss him. At the light, he makes a left. We follow, he makes another left. He's heading back in the same direction he came from. We're right behind him. He pulls over. We had a siren, coffee cups in the window. So we were looking like cops doing surveillance. As we pull up, your adrenaline's going. You feel those butterflies in your stomach. Things go in slow motion. And Greg's going to grab his rifle. And I hear him fumbling over himself. He hits the wrong button. Instead of hitting the safety, he hits the bullet clip. I hear the bullets come falling out. And he had no bullets. Now, I was the main shooter. I leaned out the window. None of them budged. As we pulled up alongside, I put the shotgun probably three inches right behind his head, behind his ear. He stiffens up, and I pulled the trigger. His nose hit the windshield. His nephew, Joe, Joe T, they called him, was in the passenger seat, got hit with a couple of pellets. I heard him screaming. The neighbors heard the screams from miles away. We were driving away, and I still heard him screaming. I could still hear that scream. When you become a trigger man, there is a big difference. And I felt it. I felt now that I was the powerful force Greg was. And Greg had a way of projecting that pride, that good job thing. He would come over, grab my hand in a hearty shake, pull me closer and give me a kiss on the cheek, like it was something sacred that just happened. After this monumental hit, Jimmy and I have to get to his house to babysit his daughter. The wife was a little upset that we got there late and the first thing we do is pour two scotches and put on Seinfeld. We were hysterical, watching Jerry run down the street. It was too much. And I'll never forget the laughing with that bread under his arm. We were driving back to Greg's house and we passed the scene. And it was like a dream. Thousands of people, the whole neighborhood, they all know Nikki Black. And I remember a group of kids standing on the corner watching this whole thing unravel. And I opened the window and I says, hey, what's going on? And the kids look at me, say, oh, my God, somebody killed Nikki Black. And I said, no kidding. I shut the window. I saw my face, a reflection. And in that split couple of seconds, I remember thinking to myself, how did I go from a young, innocent, well brought up teenager to cold blooded assassin? But I was safe. Being the shooter made me safe. No longer was I the hunted. Now I've become the hunter. But I also realized to take a life is the ultimate bad deed. But when you're in that life, it's a fine line that is the question. And that is my regret that I allowed myself to get into that life. And, and, and you know, if you believe in God. I do. And try to talk to him. Where did I go wrong? It does make me emotional because there are two Larry's. The one before I got into mob life and the one who could talk cold hearted about doing some very bad things. I could never completely forgive myself. And it'll be a lifelong battle.
