gambino

thursday 23 june 2011…                (new post)

On Tuesday, the solstice, at 4:05 pm, I heard a news story locally produced at our public radio station in Amherst, that stirred up all kinds of things which exist in me all the time anyway. They’ve existed in me since Monday 23 June 2008. Exactly three years. It was exactly three years ago that, after wondering for more than three months why certain people were appearing everywhere I went, doing things that I’d never encountered before, and pretending to be drunk when they weren’t, etc, that a lightbulb went off in my head and said:  this must have something to do with the crime-chick. And when I asked Matthew a day or two later if something criminal were going on in my life, he said yes.

I’ve written before and will write until the day I die about things Matthew did tell me, and about the many other things that he did not. Today I’m focusing on one of the lacunae, one of the things he has never told me, though I asked. And that issue is: who. You tell me, Sir Matthew, on July 2 that people want to harm me. You tell me a week or so later that I’m being protected from these mysterious people by other people who come from the fed day camp in Burlington, Vermont. You tell me on July 26 that my long-dead grandfather, whom I never knew, was a mob man who betrayed the mob in some way and was killed by them. But you never tell me who. Who wants to harm me? Who did my grandfather work for and betray? Crime families, I imagine, come in large and small, famous and not, notorious and hardly known by the average person. And all of these families are made up, actually, of several families, and there are a number of last names floating around in the soup. So what are the last names of the various biological families who comprise the crime family that Matthew says wants to hurt me? Just one of the myriad questions to which I never got an answer. A man who calls himself Jim did bring up in my presence once two names: Vittorio and Luigi Greif. Utterly unknown to me. Why should I recognize them. But Matthew himself never said any name at all.

Along comes this news story, which reports the arrest of a man in Connecticut who is charged with murder and taking protection money from businesses and all kinds of other gangland stuff. The story says this man has long been believed by authorities to be “an associate of the Gambino family.” The word Connecticut hits me like a slap. The very obvious mob cars that came to the house where the crime-chick and I both lived in 2007 were licensed in Connecticut. A couple of other very obvious mob cars who came and parked very close to me in Greenfield in the summer of 2008 were licensed in Connecticut. These two cars just parked very close to me for a while, the drivers (two different ones) watching every move I made. And each time, as soon as the car in question left, Matthew suddenly appeared on the sidewalk out of nowhere, coming to see me. Too much coincidence to be coincidence in the statistics jugglers in my brain. Always has been and always will be.

So along comes this news story to tell me that the Gambinos have “associates” in Connecticut. This is something that never occurred to me. I just blithely assume that the most infamous crime families have their family caves somewhere in New York and slither around in that state, and I never ponder on where they might have “associates.” Those Connecticut cars, straight out of a mafia movie. “Protection” from the fed day camp in Burlington. Could it be? Could it be that the name Matthew would never give me is the name Gambino? Could it be that farcical? All I can tell you for certain is that the cars were from Connecticut, the protectors were said to be from Burlington, and that the crime-chick was/is a criminal mind indeed. That news story has given me a great deal of food for thought about that name that Matthew would never speak.

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Precisely forty-nine hours after that news story, there appeared two more. One local, one national, and they aired just a few minutes apart. These stories dealt with the arrest of our own special Massachusetts gangster, Whitey Bulger. In these stories it was reported that quite recently, 2006, I think, families of two of Bulger’s victims did in fact sue the feds. And they won. The reason for their suits was that back in the day, about 20 years ago, the FBI in Boston used Whitey as an informant on other gangsters, and in the process protected Whitey. They not only protected him from arrest for a good while, but they told him the names of people who were in turn informing on him, and he killed these people. The coup de grace of FBI corruption was that when finally, in spite of Whitey’s pals’ efforts, he was going to be arrested, his thoroughly suborned FBI “handler” tipped him off. He went on the run to California, where they found him late last night, California time. After sixteen years.

These families sued the feds and won. Meanwhile at least ten people have told me over the last three years that you cannot sue the feds. I’ve believed them. Now it appears that they are wrong. You can sue the feds when they fuck up.

You can sue the feds if you have the money to pay lawyers, which I don’t. You can sue the feds if the agents who harmed you have been arrested and convicted already, which isn’t so in my situation. You can sue them if you have a paper trail for their misconduct, which I don’t.

I have to keep the name Robert Muller in my memory. Keep the name of the man who directed the FBI in the summer of 2008 (and still today), when a certain man told me I was in danger and that I was being protected by feds. The man who directed the FBI in the summer when all of this protection was strictly undercover; when I was never shown any ID’s by anyone; when I was never located anywhere by these people to be protected in a home; when the only conclusion I could come to after Matthew’s remarks about “big fish” was that I was the very convenient and very inhuman bait.

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read…   Spite and malice...     Braon

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