Mafia Cops | The Crystal Ball | 3

Audible subscribers can binge new seasons of American Scandal early and ad-free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts. American Scandal uses dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, might be invented, but everything is based on historical research. It's April 18th, 1989 at a cheap hotel in an industrial area of Newark, New Jersey. Victoria Vreeland takes a sip of coffee and stares out the window. The room's cramped with stains on the wall and a shabby carpet. But Vreeland isn't here for the amenities. She's watching a beat-up trailer in a lot across the street. Vreeland is an investigator for the New Jersey Division of Criminal Justice, and behind her, a colleague sits at a desk watching video footage of the trailer. They've been here ever since. They've been here every day for weeks, and the room is littered with empty coffee cups and full ashtrays. The lot across the street is owned by the Lucchese Mafia family. They're running a garbage disposal business out of the trailer, but investigators suspect that they're dumping medical waste illegally. Vreeland's job is to watch suspected mobsters come and go and listen in on their conversations thanks to a court-authorized wiretap. So far, she hasn't discovered much. But as Vreeland watches today, an RV turns into a car. It turns into the lot, and a man climbs out. He's dressed in a dirty t-shirt and a fedora. Vreeland has seen him here before. But rather than going into the trailer, the man drops to his knees and starts crawling across the ground. Vreeland waves her partner over. Hey, hey, come look at this. Her partner comes to the window and peers out at the man in the fedora. What's he doing? I don't know. It's like he's looking for something. Maybe he lost a contact lens. But as they watch, the man disappears under the trailer. Oh, crap. What? That's where the bugs are. If he finds them, we're cooked. Vreeland and her partner watch in tense silence. All Vreeland can see are the man's sneakers. It would be comical if she weren't so worried. Suddenly, the man wriggles out from under the trailer. He stands up and brushes himself off. You think he found them? I don't know. Depends on how good a job the techs did hiding them. The guy in the lot disappears inside the trailer. Vreeland's partner races back to the screens on his desk, which show live footage of the trailer's interior. But Vreeland stays by the window, watching in case anyone else shows up. What's he up to in there? He's opening cupboards, pulling out couch cushions. Now he's inspecting the air vents. Yeah, he's definitely checking for bugs. Oh, oh, he's coming out again. The man in the fedora steps outside and goes back to the RV and pulls out a ladder. He sets it against the trailer and climbs onto the roof. The other detective, rejoins Vreeland at the window. And what's he looking for up there? There's nothing on the roof, is there? Vreeland frowns. No, but. Oh, no. The trailer is right next to a telephone pole. The man walks across the roof and starts inspecting the wiring box at the top of the pole. Vreeland stares out the window in disbelief. He knows about the wires on the phones. Crap! We better call this in. Weeks of work for nothing. You think they spotted us somehow? We've been so careful. Vreeland shakes her head. No, he's been tipped off. He must have been. But who would hand that kind of information to the mob? I don't know. But dollars to donuts, his information came from a cop. While her partner makes a call back to headquarters, Victoria Vreeland watches the man in the fedora check every telephone pole on the street. Over the next two days, their wires and bugs all go dead. Without the surveillance evidence, the investigation into the waste disposal company falls apart. But it's not. It's not the first time a probe into the mob has suddenly collapsed. No matter what the police do, the Lucchese family always seems to know they're coming. Show button here. Football season is finally back. And PrizePix is bringing out their best offer yet. New users who sign up will get $150 in lineups if you win your first $5 lineup. That's right. If you win your first $5 lineup, you'll get $150 in lineups. That's right. That's right. On PrizePix, you simply pick two to six players, pick more or less on their stat projections, and submit your lineup. Then, sweat it out as you watch your picks play out live. It's the best way to get more locked in on game day. Make all the picks you want this football season, all in the same app. Also, PrizePix is going crazy with the deals to start the football season, giving users a new promo every day during Stack September. And now, PrizePix is available nationwide. So what are you waiting for? Lock in for kickoff. Because everyone needs it. Everyone and everything is on PrizePix. What you want? Download the app today and use code WONDERY to get $150 instantly in lineups if you win your first $5 lineup. PrizePix. Run your game. James Arthur Ray was a charismatic self-help guru who promised his followers a path to wealth and enlightenment by becoming the best versions of themselves. But not all who followed him finished their journey. For the best bingeable series, listen to the Audible True Crime Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. ♪♪ From Audible Originals, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. ♪♪ ♪♪ In 1986, the Lucchese crime family underboss, Anthony Gaspipe Casso, narrowly survived an assassination attempt. To track down the men responsible, Casso turned to a Brooklyn businessman and drug dealer named Burton Kaplan. Kaplan had a connection most mobsters could only dream of, two senior detectives in the New York Police Department. By then, Stephen Caracappa and Louis Eppolito have been secretly working for the New York Police Department. It was a lucrative business for them. And for the mobsters, what they got in return made it money well spent. But the partnership between Caracappa and Eppolito and the mob was about to be tested. An FBI investigation was about to take down some of the most senior men in the New York underworld and threatened to reveal the identities of the two mafia cops in the process. This is Episode 3, The Crystal Ball. ♪♪ It's May 25th. 1990 in Queens, New York. Burton Kaplan is driving on the Long Island Expressway. He's on his way to meet Detective Louis Eppolito, who has something important to tell him. And apparently, it has to be done in person. So Kaplan's worried. He's never heard Eppolito sound so serious before. He pulls up at their agreed meeting point just off the expressway. The gravel shoulder is littered with crushed cans and broken glass. Eppolito is already there, leaning against the hood of his car, fanning himself, with his cap. Normally, he's all smiles. But today, his expression is grim. Kaplan wipes his brow with a handkerchief. Hey, you wanted to talk, Louis? Yeah, thanks for coming. Well, what's going on? This about me? Eppolito glances around. The traffic roars by on the expressway. No one will be able to listen in to this conversation. It's the window's job. New York City is in the process of replacing nearly 900,000 cars. There are over 1,000 windows in its public housing. The contract is worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and several crime families are cashing in. They've conspired to inflate costs, rig bids, and extort money from the program. But Kaplan has nothing to do with it. Well, I don't know much about it, to be honest, Lou. I'm not really involved. Well, gas pipe is, right? What have you heard? It might be a good idea for him to get out of town this weekend. Is it going to be a raid? Eppolito nods. Yeah, a big one. The truck thunders by, and Eppolito waits, watching it go. They're sweeping the board. Everyone involved in this window scam. Everyone. The Gambinos, the Genoveses, and your guys. Kaplan stares at Eppolito in shock. Jeez, is my name on the list? Because I'm not really involved. Eppolito shakes his head. No, but gas pipe is, along with his boss. You sure about this? I wouldn't be standing here otherwise. I mean, I want to keep getting paid, don't I? Eppolito laughs, but Kaplan forces a smile. Yeah, right. So tell gas pipe to maybe think about a trip out of town. All right, Lou, thanks. I'll pass that along, and I guess I should get going. He turns back to his car, but Eppolito calls out to him. Just don't pass it along too far, yeah, Bert? What do you mean? Well, you start saving everybody, and they're going to notice. Someone's got to be there when the door gets kicked in. Kaplan nods. Well, whatever happens, gas pipe's men won't talk. Yeah? He hates rats almost as much as me. Well, the FBI. The FBI is going to try and flip as many guys as they can. It doesn't matter if they do. No one knows your names except for me. Not even Casso. Well, that's smart thinking, Bert. Guess me and Steve, you just got to make sure the feds never get a hold of you, right? Bert and Kaplan gets back in his car and drives away. He has to warn Anthony Casso about the raid before it's too late. But as he heads back to the expressway, he can't help wondering how the FBI got enough evidence to target so many mafia families at the same time. He can't help wondering how the FBI got enough evidence to target so many mafia families at the same time. The truth is, is that it's not just the Lucchese family who have informants working for them. For months, the FBI has had a man on the inside of their own. He's a union worker who's responsible for funneling cash from the public housing windows program. But after he was arrested on unconnected charges of murder, he decided to cooperate with the authorities. He hoped to secure a lighter sentence, and in return, the FBI wanted evidence they could use against the most powerful mobsters in New York. It's an investigative tactic that was only possible thanks to a law passed in 1970. The Racketeer Influenced and Corruption Organizations, or RICO Act, has transformed how prosecutors go after the mob. They no longer have to prove defendants committed a specific crime to secure a conviction. Instead, all they have to do is show that someone is part of a wider criminal enterprise. And that means mafia bosses can be convicted for crimes they ordered but never carried out themselves. And it gives lower-ranking criminals like the FBI's union worker a powerful incentive to cooperate with authorities. So the FBI put bugs in the informant's office, his car, even on his clothes. And through hundreds of hours of secret recordings, they secured enough evidence to indict more than a dozen senior figures in New York's most powerful crime families. It's going to be one of the biggest busts in the history of the city. And the arrests are planned for just after Memorial Day weekend, when the authorities believe the mobsters have committed a crime. At 6 a.m. on May 30th, 1990, a van with blacked-out windows pulls up outside Anthony Casso's house. Inside the van, an FBI agent checks his gun. He's been working on this case for over two years, and if today's raid goes as planned, it could make his career. The doors of the van slide open, and the FBI agent strides toward the house. The rest of his squad fans out across the immaculate lawn. They're hoping to surprise Casso, so they don't bother knocking on the door. One of the agents breaks the lock, another kicks down the door, and they move inside swiftly. The team sweeps the ground floor, searching for their target, but every room they enter is dark and silent. It's clear Casso was here recently, though. The FBI agent finds takeout boxes on the kitchen counter, even fresh milk in the fridge. But there's no sign of the man himself. Thanks to Burton Kaplan and his friends in the NYPD, Anthony Casso is already in hiding. Vic Amuso, the boss of the Casey family, has also escaped the FBI's clutches. But across the city, more than a dozen other senior mobsters are taken into custody. This FBI raid is so large that it makes Louis Eppolito reevaluate. Eppolito has been with the New York Police Department for 20 years and is eligible for a police pension. And with the FBI cracking down on his mob associates, Eppolito decides it's time to go. But Stephen Caracapa can't imagine not being a police officer. So he decides to stay put, while in late 1990, Eppolito retires from the force. Still only 42 years old, he's not ready to see out his days on the golf course. Instead, he sets his sights on a new career in show business. While still in the NYPD, he was scouted by a Hollywood casting director and scored a small role as a mobster in the movie Goodfellas. Encouraged by his first acting job, Eppolito now dreams of making it big in Hollywood. He wants to write and star in his own gangster movies, and plans to make a move to Los Angeles. But he soon decides that California is too expensive for him. So he and his family settle in more affordable Las Vegas. He doesn't get the movie roles he dreamed of, not right away. But he soon secures a book deal for a memoir of his life in the NYPD. The publisher calls it Mafia Cop, the story of an honest cop whose family was the mob. Released in 1992, it presents Eppolito as a decent, if unconventional, hero, trying to escape his mafioso. Despite the prejudice and doubt of his superiors, Eppolito doesn't see any problem with drawing attention to himself in this way. He's never been afraid to tease his connections to the mob. Whether it's joking about the criminals in his family when he was at the academy, or dressing like the stereotype of a Brooklyn mobster, it's almost been part of his cover. But the publication of his book has some unintended consequences. One morning in July 1992, Betty Heidel is at her home in Brooklyn, watching a talk show. She's the mother of Jimmy Heidel, the young man who was kidnapped and murdered by Anthony Casso in 1986. More than half a decade on, she still doesn't really know what happened to Jimmy, though she's accepted by now that he's never coming home. But then a familiar face appears on the television. It's the talk show's next guest, a large man with a pompadour and a thick mustache. Betty is sure she's seen him before, but she can't remember exactly where or when. Then the host introduces the man as, former detective Louis Eppolito, a highly decorated NYPD officer who's written a new book called Mafia Cop. And that's when it hits Betty. She knows exactly when she last saw this man. It was October 18th, 1986, the same day her son went missing. That morning, Jimmy went out, not telling his mother where he was going, as usual. Later that afternoon, her other son, Frank, also left the house to go to work. But after a few minutes, he came back inside. He said he'd been stopped by a police officer. He said he'd been stopped by a police officer, in an unmarked police car. They told him they were looking for Jimmy. Frank says that's his brother, not him, and then headed straight back home to tell his mom. Betty marched out of the house and got in her car. If the police wanted to question her son, they should do it the right way, rather than creeping around the neighborhood. So she drove around the block until she spotted the pair Frank had described, a big man with black hair and gold chains, and a skinny guy in a dark suit. Betty pulled up next to them and rolled down her window. She intended to give them a piece of her mind, but as soon as she asked them who they were, they drove off without answering. So Betty went home, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. When Jimmy failed to come home that night, all her worst fears began to come true. She didn't go to the police with what she'd seen. She could hardly tell them that she suspected it was cops that took Jimmy. And as the months and then years passed, Betty gave up all hope of finding out what happened to her son, until today. Betty writes down the title, then grabs her purse and heads straight for the nearest bookstore. There's a large display of copies. She picks one up and flips through its pages until she comes to a photo that makes her catch her breath. It's a picture of Eppolito with another man that Betty Heidel recognizes, the skinny cop from the car. The caption under the photo reads, Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracapa, the two godfathers of the NYPD. Betty's hands start to shake. Betty thrusts the book back on the pile. She won't be giving Eppolito a dime of her money. Before, he and this Stephen Caracapa were just faces in her memory, growing a little hazier with every passing year. But now she knows their names, and she's determined that somehow, someday, they are going to pay for what they did to her son. One company changed the artificial sweetener industry forever by deleting four words from a tagline. Sales skyrocketed, rivals sued, and a moment of silence. The multibillion-dollar war was on. Hey there, I'm David Brown, the host of the podcast Business Wars. Every season, we bring you the true stories behind the companies that shape our world. Their rivalries, their reinventions, and their spectacular rises and falls. In our new season, we're diving into the bitter battle to own sweetness. When scientists discovered that chemicals could deliver the taste of sugar with none of its calories, Sweet & Low, Equal & Splenda, fought for space on tabletops, in diet sodas, and on grocery store shelves, across America. But as health scares hit, and regulators came knocking, the fierce competition between the top three artificial sweeteners turned ugly. Make sure to follow Business Wars wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can binge all episodes of Business Wars early and ad-free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app, or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts. Imagine you're reading Pride and Prejudice, except you're not reading it. Harris Dickinson and Marissa Abella are reading it to you on Audible. Her barbs sting you. His coldness sends a shiver up your spine. Your heart aches. Your ears burn. You yearn for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to profess their undying love for one another. You can't bear it any longer. Well, maybe a chapter longer. Performance is so good, you'll give love a second chance. Audible. Stories that speak to you. When Stephen Caracapa learns that his photograph and stories about him are in Louis Eppolito's book, he's furious. While the memoir carefully avoids any mention of their work with the mafia, Eppolito still admits to serious breaches of police regulations, and that puts Caracapa in a difficult position. Eppolito is retired and living in Las Vegas. He's safe from disciplinary action, but Caracapa is still in New York and in active service with a major case law firm. He's not alone. He's a man of his word. He's a And based on what Eppolito has written about him, he could be investigated by internal affairs and lose his job along with his police pension. The more Caracapa thinks about it, the more he realizes his career in the NYPD is as good as over. He has no choice but to quickly retire before anyone can ask too many questions. But he's not just worried about the repercussions from his fellow officers. Up until now, only Burton Kaplan knew their names. And while they stayed anonymous, no one the mob could come after them. Now, though, thanks to Eppolito's book, they aren't safe anymore. And one man who has already figured out their identities is Anthony Gaspipe Casso. Still in hiding from the FBI, he bought a copy of Apolito's book and read it cover to cover. When he saw the photograph of Louis Apolito and Stephen Caracapa together, he also recognized them immediately. They were the men hanging around the Toys R Us parking lot the night he picked up Jimmy Heidel. Apolito and Caracapa must be the cops Burton Kaplan has been working with all this time. And the next time Casso sees Kaplan, he asks him about it directly. Kaplan doesn't confirm their identities, but Casso can tell from Kaplan's reaction that he's on the money. So Casso files this information about the detectives away. He's sure it will come in handy one day. Since the FBI raid in 1990, Casso and his boss have continued to run the Lucchese crime family from a series of safe houses across New Jersey. Casso uses an elaborate system to communicate with his men. Each payphone in New York has been given a code number. And when he wants to talk to one of his soldiers, Casso pages him with the code. The recipient then drives to that specific payphone and waits for Casso's call. The coded beeper messages let Casso do business without any risk of the feds listening in. But the system is time consuming and awkward. And as the months go by, without any sign that the FBI is onto him, Casso becomes complacent. Believing cell phones to be more secure, he buys one. Casso starts using it to call other members of the Lucchese family directly. Eventually, though, the FBI catches on. Agents trace his calls to underlings in Brooklyn back to a radio tower in Morris County, New Jersey. And it's there, 32 months after Casso disappeared, that the FBI finally tracks him down. Casso's holed up in his secluded house in the neighborhood of Mount Olive. The property is set back from the road and surrounded by hills and woods, with the closest neighbor 100 yards away. Casso's home is in the neighborhood of Mount Olive. Casso's home is in the stream of hot water in the shower, he thinks about his plans for the day ahead, the calls he has to make, the business he has to address. His thoughts are interrupted, though, by a hammering sound from downstairs, and for a moment, he wonders if his mistress has forgotten her key. He turns off the shower and listens. Then, there's a loud crash, the thump of footsteps in the hall and voices shouting FBI. Casso grabs for a towel and has just covered himself when the agents burst into the bathroom with guns raised. Dripping water onto the tiled floor, Casso surrenders and says he'll come peacefully. He's then cuffed and a large coat is thrown over his shoulders. Then, he's bundled down the stairs and brought out across the snowy lawn to a waiting car. Casso is soon charged with multiple counts of murder conspiracy, extortion, loan sharking, witness tampering, and illegal weapons offenses. If he's found guilty, Casso will likely spend the rest of his life behind bars. The odds aren't in his favor, and he knows many of his former friends and associates will be lining up to testify against him in exchange for shorter sentences of their own. And even in prison, he may not be safe. The Lucchese boss, Vic Amuso, has put out a hit on Casso to make sure he keeps his secrets. So, Casso weighs his options and decides he's better off cooperating. But before prosecutors can cut him a deal, they need to know what he can give them. So, they organize a meeting called a trial to gather more intelligence. Casso will tell them what he knows, but if the deal falls through for any reason, the prosecutors agree not to use the information Casso shares against him in court. They'll all pretend the meeting never happened. And soon, prosecutors take Casso to a basement room of a federal court in Brooklyn. There, for two hours, Casso recounts some stories of his days in the mob. They were often so violent that they sound almost far-fetched. But when investigators compare Casso's accounts to those of other prosecutors, they're not so far-fetched. To those of other informants, it's clear his testimony is credible. And the prosecutors are convinced. They decide to offer Casso a deal. On March 1, 1994, Casso pleads guilty to 14 murder conspiracy charges. Sentencing will follow at a later date, but to get a shorter spell in prison, he will have to give the FBI everything. Every mobster he's done business with and every crime he's ever committed. Casso is then flown to a military base in Texas. Unlike an ordinary, here he gets a comfortable room with his own TV and refrigerator. And when the FBI agents come to visit, he feels so at home that he offers them coffee and cake. It will take months of meetings for Casso to spill all his secrets. And in session after session, he'll confess to kidnappings, extortion attempts, torture, assaults, and murders, some of which the FBI knew nothing about. The investigators interviewing him are horrified by the casual brutality of Casso's crimes. But even more shocking are his allegations, against two New York police officers. Casso says he got away with many of his crimes thanks to what he called his crystal ball. Inside the NYPD, there were two senior detectives who would feed him information on ongoing investigations, telling him who was going to get arrested and who needed to be killed to make problems go away. Their names were Stephen Caracappa and Louis Eppolito. And over the years, Casso paid them over $350,000 on behalf of the Lucchese crime family. During all their long careers in law enforcement, the prosecutors have never heard anything like this. They spend hundreds of hours trying to build a case against Eppolito and Caracappa and linking Casso's confessions to outstanding investigations that stretch back decades. But as Casso continues to talk, news of his betrayal works its way back to Brooklyn. Burton Kaplan is at home when the phone rings. His wife picks it up and tells him it's his lawyer. Kaplan tells her to take a message and he'll call back in half an hour. But five minutes later, the phone rings again. His wife says it sounds urgent. So this time, Kaplan takes the call. Hey, I'm busy with something. I said I'd call you back. I decided this couldn't wait. Oh, what's going on? Well, there's been a development. Kaplan turns slightly, instinctively looking out the window and scanning the street outside. What's happened? It's Anthony Casso. He went bad. Kaplan straightens, his grip tightening on the phone. Gas pipe? No, no, he wouldn't. He's made a deal with the prosecutors. Are you out of your mind? You can't talk like that. If Gas Pipe hears, we're both dead. Bert, Casso fired his attorney. He's got a government lawyer now. Kaplan falls silent. The only reason Casso would get a government attorney is if he has started working for the other side. He flipped? It looks like it. Kaplan doesn't respond. He stares out the window, his mind racing. Bert, you there? Yeah, I'm here. Are you absolutely sure about this? I heard it from Casso's attorney himself, yeah. But Gas Pipe hates rats. Well, people change when they're staring at life inside. How much does he have on you? A little. Bert? Okay, a lot. Well, you need to start thinking about your next move. Kaplan rubs his forehead, stretching the phone cord with his pacing. Yeah, yeah. I don't want to say I told you so. Well, then don't. But I have been urging you to cut ties for years. Yeah, I know. You should have walked away. I know. I should have listened to you. I should have listened to my wife. I should have listened to all of you smart people. But you liked taking the money I made, didn't you? Bert, you didn't need the mob to pay me. You were doing just fine without them. But it wasn't really about the money, was it? Bert and Kaplan hangs up the phone and curses. Over the years, he and Anthony Casso committed dozens of crimes together. Drug deals, money laundering, fraud, and even murder. So if it's true that Casso has now turned, yes. FBI is bound to come after him. So he has to act fast. Kaplan is out of the house before his wife even realizes he's off the phone. He's got a call to make. And it's not one he can make at home. After Ray appeared on Oprah, dozens flocked to his events. But what many people didn't know about were his more extreme methods. Methods that pushed his followers to their limits, giving some the transformative experience they envisioned and killing others. For the best bingeable series, like the one I just told you about, listen to the Audible True Crime Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can get all episodes early and ad-free right now. You stepped out for your morning jog. Except it's not your usual morning jog. You started listening to an epic sci-fi book on Audible. Thirty chapters later, you've accidentally run a half marathon. You lost track of how far you've run. Somewhere just past the city limits. You can't stop. You have to find out what happens next. Then it's over. The universe seems bigger. You feel different. You feel like you have no idea where you are Audible. Audible. After the call from his lawyer, Burton Kaplan goes straight to the nearest payphone. He doesn't want to risk calling from home. The line might already be bugged for all he knows. And Kaplan has to get out of town. But disappearing at such short notice doesn't come cheap. So he dials the number of one of his friends in the mafia who says he can front the cash Kaplan needs. Kaplan hangs up and goes back home. He grabs all the money he's stashed around the house and packs a bag. It's not long before his mafia friend shows up. Kaplan's going to spend the night at his home in Newark before catching the first flight to Mexico the following morning. His wife joins him for the drive, but Kaplan has one more stop to make before he skips town. He wants to say goodbye to his old friend Stephen Caracapa and warn him about Anthony Casso. So as night falls, they head into Manhattan. Caracapa lives in an elegant apartment building in the Flatiron District. Kaplan leaves his wife waiting in the car, while he buzzes the intercom. A few moments later, he's in the elevator, heading up to the top of the building. The elevator is all marble, mirrored glass. Not many honest cops in this city can afford a place like this. But Caracapa can, and he's waiting for Kaplan in the doorway to his apartment. He glances down the hallway before stepping aside. Bert, come on in. Caracapa leads him to the living room. The apartment is immaculate. Leather furniture, framed commendations on the wall, and a view that stretches across Manhattan. Why don't you sit down? Can I get you something to drink? But Kaplan doesn't sit. No, I'm not staying, Steve. We've got a problem. Gas pipe went bad. Caracapa stiffens. You sure about that? I didn't believe it either, but it's true. He's with the feds now. Caracapa studies Kaplan for a moment, thinking. And how long has he been talking? I've got no idea. I came as soon as I heard. And we don't know what he's given them yet. It doesn't matter. If he's talking, they're building cases already. Wiretaps, surveillance, witnesses. You know how fast these things can move. Caracapa walks calmly to a sideboard and pours himself a drink. Sit down, Bert. But Kaplan doesn't. No, I'm going on the lam. But I need you to know I won't turn. Even if they catch up to me, I'll never rat. Caracapa nods and takes a sip of his drink. Well, you're a good friend, Bert. I mean, there's something else, too. Gas pipe knows about you. You saw your picture in that book Louie wrote. And Caracapa exhales through his nose, sounding more annoyed than afraid. I told him not to write that thing. Too late now. You can still run. You've got a head start. With your smarts and your money, you could disappear. They'd never find you. Caracapa looks around his apartment. Yeah, life as a fugitive isn't for me. I'm going to stay. See what happens. Stevie, they don't build cases on guys like Casso. Even if he gives us up. I'll just deny it. And then who are they going to believe? Not that psycho. But what about Louie? Will he keep his mouth shut? I'll make sure he lays low for a while. Now, do you need any money before you go? No, no, I'm set. Well, if that changes, call me, all right? I'll take care of it. Kaplan nods, but he doesn't look reassured. Well, look after yourself, Stevie. It's going to be all right. You'll see. After leaving Steve and Caracapa's apartment, Bert Kaplan spends the rest of the night at his associate's house in Newark. He makes calls to everyone. He knows, telling them that he's going to China, where he's had business dealings in the past. He hopes that rumor might make it back to the FBI and throw him off his tracks. Then, less than 12 hours after he first spoke with his lawyer, Kaplan kisses his wife goodbye and boards a flight to Mexico. Not long after Kaplan flees south, Steve and Caracapa decides to leave town after all. But he's careful not to act like a fugitive. He sells his apartment in Manhattan and moves to Las Vegas. Caracapa figures, it's easier to keep an eye on Louis Eppolito there. And besides, the weather's better. But while Kaplan, Caracapa, and Eppolito all keep a low profile, the same can't be said for Anthony "Gas Pipe" Casso. He's now been transferred from the facility in Texas to a witness protection unit in a prison in upstate New York. But he can't seem to leave the mob mindset behind. Casso starts to build a new criminal empire from his cell. He makes a deal with a prison secretary, paying her some money to smuggle in contraband. He's soon enjoying vodka, steaks, and lobster, and selling heroin and cocaine that smuggle into the prison in hollowed-out cigars. He's trying to rule his cell block just like he ruled Brooklyn. But eventually he takes it too far. When Casso attacks another inmate and puts him in the medical ward, the prison inspector decides something must be done. The FBI raids the cell block and searches Casso's rooms. Agents find the contraband, as well as piles of cell phones, cash, and even imported olive oil and pasta. By continuing to commit crimes in prison, Casso has breached the terms of his agreement with the prosecution. The FBI realizes that Casso has become a liability, and they can't possibly use him as a witness. His violent and deceptive behavior means nothing he says can be trusted. Even his stories about the corrupt officers in the NYPD are suddenly thrown into doubt. So the plea deal is off, and so is the investigation into Stephen Caracapa and Luis Eppolito. And with the file on them left to gather dust, Casso is returned to the general prison system. Not long after, he's sentenced to 455 years without parole. Burton Kaplan's lawyer calls to tell him the good news. After fleeing New York, Kaplan spent months on the beach in Mexico, but he got tired of that lifestyle and moved back to the United States. He tried Oregon first, where he picked up a new girlfriend. But then he heard his old buddies Caracapa and Eppolito had moved to Las Vegas and decided to move to New York. He decided to join them. He took up residence in Caesars Palace and started a new business. He now runs a garment warehouse, selling ladies' suits out front and marijuana out the back. He makes a good living, enough to keep his girlfriend happy while sending money home to his wife. But still, he can't help missing New York. So when he hears from his lawyer that Anthony Casso is no longer a threat, Kaplan shuts up shop in Vegas, says goodbye to his girlfriend, and heads back east. He moves back in with his wife and daughter in Brooklyn, and tries to pick up his life where he left off. But then one rainy day in September 1996, an NYPD detective and an agent from the Drug Enforcement Agency make an early morning stop at Kaplan's house. The DEA has had a warrant out for Kaplan's arrest for over a year. They've got a case against him for allegedly selling thousands of pounds of marijuana back in the early 90s. But as far as they're concerned, Kaplan has been missing for several years, and they don't expect to find him today. They're only doing due diligence, and it's standard practice for officers to occasionally check in on suspects' homes. It's a gloomy day, and through the steadily falling rain, the detective almost misses the small man with glasses peering out the window at their car. He can't believe his luck. It's Burton Kaplan. The detective and his partner hurry through the rain to the front door, and they ring the bell. A woman opens. It's Kaplan's wife. And right behind her in the hallway, still wearing his pajamas, is Burton Kaplan himself. The DEA agent says, The DEA agent hands him the arrest warrant, and Kaplan sighs. He looks it over and asks if he can get dressed before they head to the station. He can't do any harm, so the detective follows Kaplan into his bedroom. He sits on the bed, watching as Kaplan calmly puts on a clean shirt. It's clearly not the first time he's been placed under arrest. And when he's ready, Kaplan asks if he can call his lawyer. He pulls a black address book out of the drawer in his bedside table. Kaplan thumbs through it and dials a number. But while Kaplan is talking, he's not alone. While Kaplan is talking to his lawyer, the detective picks up the black book and flicks through it himself. He spots the names and phone numbers of dozens of well-known mobsters. But some of the entries seem to be written in a kind of code. Given all the leaks they've had over the years, the detective wonders if they might be hiding the numbers of a cop or two. He holds up the book and tells Kaplan he's taking it as evidence. Kaplan shrugs. He's got bigger problems now. It seems he was so worried about what Anthony Casso might tell prosecutors, he didn't even know he was a cop. He was facing the drug charges. But now he'll be going to prison for a very long time. And if investigators play their cards right, perhaps he'll be joined there by some of the men in his little book. From Audible Originals, this is Episode 3 of Mafia Cops for American Scandal. In our next episode, detectives begin investigating Luis Eppolito and Stephen Caracapa again. And the net finally closes in on the corrupt ex-cops. American Scandal is only possible because of listeners like you, so thank you. And don't miss an episode. Be sure to follow American Scandal on Audible or wherever you get your podcasts. And Audible subscribers can binge new seasons of American Scandal early and ad-free right now. And to find out more about me, including my other podcasts, my live show, the history tours I'm arranging, and all sorts of other things, go to historyishuman.com. That's historyishuman.com. If you'd like to learn more about the Mafia Cops, we recommend the books The Brotherhoods by Guy Lawson and William Oldman and Mob Cops by Greg B. Smith. This episode contains reenactments and dramatized details. And while in most cases we can't know exactly what was said, all our dramatizations are based on historical research. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. This episode is written and researched by Lauren Sudworth. Senior Producer, Andy Beckerman. Managing Producer, Emily Burke. Fact-checking by. Audio editing by Mohamed Shamsi. Original music by Thrum. Sound design by Gabriel Gould. Executive producer for Airship is William Simpson. Executive producer for Audible is Jenny Lauer Beckman. Head of creative development at Audible, Kate Navin. Head of Audible Originals, North America, Marshall Louie. Chief content officer, Rachel Chiazza. Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals, LLC. Sound recording copyright 2026 by Audible Originals, LLC. Listen now on Audible.