MADE GUY! ROMANO X WRITER! READER
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Prologue
Romano vargas had been in the witness protection program seven months the first time we met. We were protected by U.S. deputy marshals who stood guard outside the door, we talked privately for three hours, each taking the measure of the other. My interest was in determining the depth and scope of his experience, the soundness of his memory, the range of his knowledge, and the extent to which he could articulate his story. His success on all counts far exceeded my expectations. As added bonuses, I found him to be enormously energetic and surprisingly considerate and amicable. I came away with the conviction that his life story would make an extraordinary document.
Although this was my first personal contact with him, I had known him by reputation for a long time. Twenty years ago Los Angeles Police Captain James Hamilton had played a tape recording for me of a telephone conversation in which Romano had threatened to blow a man's head off, and I remember Hamilton saying with a grin, "And the son of a bitch really means it. This guy's the Mafia's top enforcer on the West Coast."
If Romano was aware of any of this as we talked that first time, he gave no indication of it. He mentioned having received a substantial offer for his story but when I expressed a preference for another publisher, he immediately turned to his attorney and said, "Forget them, we go with __(y/n)__." That, as I was to learn in short order, was classic Romano. He is not one to agonize over decisions. His life is testament to that fact.
We began working together immediately. As the government moved him to various locations for appearances before grand juries and court trials, I followed to take advantage of every free moment he could spare me. Once determined to tell his story, there was no holding him back. His energy made it possible for me to interview him in grueling ten-hour stretches, for days on end, and the questioning was as relentless as I could make it.
I had done my homework. I had accumulated extensive background information, consisting of FBI and police surveillance reports covering the last thirty years of his life; court and police records; parole reports; prison records, with several psychological studies; and nearly two thousand pages of transcribed FBI wiretaps from several of Jimmy's telephone as well as those of his associates; plus just about everything written about him and his associates in newspapers, magazines, and books--everything I could lay hands on.
I hurled a barrage of questions at him, but Romano just leaned back in his chair, puffed on his big cigar, and took it all in stride. Nothing daunted him. Not even a malfunctioning tape recorder. When i told him one morning that we had to repeat a whole day's work, he shrugged and said, "It's just one of then things, __(y/n)__. Let's get to it."
I warned him at the outset that if I caught him in a single lie, I would walk out and burn the tapes. His response was, "__(y/n)__, forget about it. My life's in your hands." The way Romano saw it, his only chance of escaping the vengeance of the Mafia Bosses who wanted him dead in the worst way was for the book to earn enough money for him to leave the country, taking with him his two brothers, Feliciano and Romeo Vargas. He understood that one lie could lead to the book discredited and that is the last thing he wanted in this world.
The government had also issued it's warning. One lie and all bargains were off, which meant that he would spend the remainder of his life behind bars, or could even face the death penalty for two murders in Cleveland and one in San Diego.
Romano has just committed just about every crime in the book, but when he gets on the witness stand, juries believe him. He knows details no one else will talk about. James Henderson calls Romano a "spellbinder." Indeed, he is that and more.
His memory is absolutely phenomenal. Not only could he go back some years and come up with the names of teachers and school chums, but he could describe countless incidents in minute detail. I soon discovered that my job consisted of pressing the right buttons. Every time he repeated a story, and he repeated the important ones at least a dozen times over the two-year period, the details became richer, but the basic facts never deviate.
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