S1 E01: Divine Providence

Question. Did he kick you? Answer. yes. Question. Where did he kick you? Answer on my right chin. Question. Did he try to burn you with a cigarette? Answer. yes. Question. Did you have a cigarette burn on your face after the incident? Answer. yes. In my left eye. Question. At some point did the mayor swing a fireplace log at you? Answer. yes. This is a transcript of grand jury testimony from a victim of a brutal assault. An assault committed by the mayor of Providence, Rhode Island. Yeah, that's right. The mayor. A mayor in his ninth year in office. A mayor named Vincent Buddy, Cianci. Good evening. A statewide grand jury has invited Providence mayor Vincent Cianci on charges including extortion kidnapping and assault. The mayor of a major American city kidnapping and torturing a guy. Weirder still is what happened next. Buddy ran again and he won. You know, he was a gentleman beside his faults. You know, everybody has faults. Buddy Cianci died earlier this year. His body was laid out in city hall and people here lined up to pay their respects. He did so much for this city and we all love him and we're all going to miss him. There was nothing wrong with what this guy did. I believe that he didn't have problems too much. So he fell into his hole and you'd be probably to fall into when you love something too much. Buddy did love this city in his own way, but his shortcomings went well beyond one little incident of torture and kidnapping. There were criminal investigations, accusations of corruption, drug scandals, even a five-year prison sentence. But we'll get to that later. The question now is, why so much love for such a flawed man? Well, for people here, buddies' faults weren't all that shocking because the thing you got to know about providence, the city the buddy ruled for more than 20 years, it was a mob town. There was New York, there was Chicago, and then there was this little city and the smallest state in the union for third largest cause in Austria and the country. This is Albert Baroducci. He grew up in Providence at a time when organized crime was a daily part of life. You could see someone getting shaken down. I mean, you know, that's something about a cop band again, you know, two guys looking the other way, but that was the way life was back then. There was no two ways about it. I mean, it was accepted. No, not a politician or a priest, not a bishop or a bus driver, should ever be defined solely by their faults. At Buddy's funeral, the church is packed with people from his past. Cops, politicians, and judges sit shoulder to shoulder with crooks and ex-cons. They all grew up together, attended school together, went to each other's weddings and funerals. That those in public office may promote justice and peace while continuing the work of our brother, may events in A.C. Antigunia let us pray. Lord, in your divine governance, we shall see your hour wherever. I'm Mark Smirling, and I'm Zach Stewart-Pontier. You're listening to Crime Town, the new series in partnership with Gimlet Media. Every season will investigate the culture of crime in a different American city. First up, the story of Buddy Cianci and the city that made it, Providence, Rhode Island. It's a story of alliances and betrayals, of heists and stings, of crooked cops and honest mobsters. A story about how organized crime corrupted an entire city. A story where you can never quite tell, the good guys from the bad guys. Welcome to Crime Town. See, we get two governments in this country. We get the United States government and we get the government of crime. There are two objectives, I think, is to get the money and don't get caught getting the money. A lot of things are done, that should be done, but they're done. That's the way the city of France has run. Got to learn that corruption was a part of the culture here. We hit him with this two-by-four, burnt his eyelashes off with a cigarette, until the kid he was going to cut his head off. I don't think they understood how deep the corruption ran. My name is Buddy Cianci and I'm the mayor of Providence. As you know, I've been indicted by federal prosecutors, I assure you that I'm not guilty of these charges. They're based on self-serving statements of criminals. Your husband beat me up, filed for divorce and now the FBI kicked in your doors. What are you going to do now? I said, "Well, I guess I'm not going to Disney." I made this fucking state more money. I gave the state more fame. I loved coming back here. I loved being in Rhode Island. Everybody's got some crazy shit going on. Well, Fritz, thank you for inviting me. This is one of the few free speeches I've given in the past. We appreciate it. They called me and they asked me to believe in free speech. I said, "Of course, they said, "Well, you're giving one." This is a recording of Buddy Cianci at the end of his career at an event to promote his autobiography, just a few years before he died. He's bald, stocky, with bags under his eyes. Life has worn him down a bit, but he's still the same old buddy. He laughs at himself, cracks jokes, works the crowd, and tells funny stories about starting out as a young prosecutor. "Well, I used to be in charge of the organized crime division for the Attorney General, and my entertainment was I would listen to the wiretaps. It was a bookmaking operation going on, and so I was listening to the tapes and this one woman is saying to the other woman, "Do you know my boyfriend said that these phones might be tapped?" And she said, "Don't worry, my boyfriend told me what to say if the cops come." The other woman said, "What's that?" And she said, "My boyfriend told me to plead the fifth command." This time that Buddy's reminiscing about more than 40 years ago, that's when our story begins. Buddy's fresh out of law school, younger and thinner, with a lot more hair. He's just beginning his new job as an assistant attorney general, and a case lands on his desk. A case that will launch his career and put him head to head with the most notorious mob boss in the country. It's a murder case. April 20th, 1968, a car pulls up to Penoen's meat market. Two men, pro-learner and Bobby Fairbrothers sit up front wearing masks. Pro-learner had a double-barrel 12-gauge shotgun, and Bobby Fairbrothers had a Springfield rifle. That's former Providence Police detective Robert Stevenson. The gunmen get out of the car and cross the street. Inside the market are the targets. Two wise guys, Rudy Marfio and Anthony Malay. When Lerna came in with a double-barrel shotgun, shot the Mafio first. Bobby Fairbrothers got so scared he shot into the floor and pro-learned a step over the next aisle. Shot and kill Malay, and I hope they went. The mask and the guns and everything, they dumped down on, come off its street down on the freight yards. Marfio and Malay laid dead on the ground, and their murder case was assigned to a young prosecutor named Buddy Cianci. Detective Stevenson and Buddy joined forces and started talking to witnesses, but despite there being several other people in the market, no one saw a thing, and the investigation stalled. Then a break in the case. Buddy got a call from a prison in Massachusetts. A witness was talking about the murders. The witness was Red Kelly. He was a witness who changed over from being a mafia type guy over to us. Red Kelly was a big-time crook, serving a long sentence, and he wanted to make a deal. He told investigators that he'd hired the hitmen who killed Marfio and Malay, and he said one other thing. He hadn't acted alone. He'd planned the murders on the orders of Raymond L.S. patriarca. Who's Raymond patriarca? Well, he's a key part of our story. The crime and corruption that plagues providence all goes back to him. And he conducted his business from a rundown store front, filled with dusty cigarette machines and arcade games. It was called the Coinamatic. What was this? This was a Coinamatic. So this had been a coin vending store, but actually the headquarters of New England organized crime. Dan Barry is a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist who's written a lot about providence. So you would see Raymond would sit here in like a lawn chair, and he'd have white socks, and he just looked like an old man with a cigar, and he would wave to people, and the cops would wave to him, and everyone knew he was watching everything. From his lawn chair, patriarca ruled over a kingdom of crime that extended across the country. He was a silent partner in Las Vegas casinos with Frank Sinatra. Whitey Bulger, maybe you've heard of him? Even he had a kick up to Raymond patriarca. And if you ran a card game, or a prostitution ring, or a numbers racket, pretty much anywhere in New England, a portion of your profits went to the boss. I don't care what you did. It wouldn't go break somebody's window. You've got to get permission from Raymond. Again, Albert Baraducci, who grew up not far from the Coinamatic, in Providence's Italian neighborhood, Federal Hill. Raymond was no chump. He was no chump. That's his business. That's his no key word. It's his business. That's his business. Iron the streets. I own all the illicit activities. I'm the one who built it. I'm the one who started. This is my money. Not yours. This just happens to be organized crime, and people don't get fired. They get fired at. And according to Red Kelly, the witness, that's what happened at Penoen's meat market to Rudy Marfio and Anthony Malay. Here's Detective Stevenson. Rudolph Marfio had these crap games going, and card games going on the weekends up on Federal Hill. Raymond wanted these guys knocked off because they were rent-a-fearing with his gambling activities. On the basis of Red Kelly's story, patriarca was charged as an accessory to murder. And buddy Cianci couldn't wait to prosecute the case. It was personal for him. This is buddy out the dinner with a co-author of his autobiography. On the first day of trial, crowds gathered outside the courthouse, hoping to catch a glimpse of the notorious mob boss, Raymond Patriarch. He had ruled the city for almost 20 years, and now buddy in the prosecution had a chance to put him away for life. State troopers with shotgun stood guard as Red Kelly was called to the stand. Patriarcha sat behind the defense table, glaring at him. Detective Stevenson remembers that day. John Red Kelly told him this whole story. Kelly and Raymond had met in front of the gaslight restaurant. And Raymond says, "I want them son of a bitch who's killed. Marfio and Malay." Kelly's testimony against patriarca was damning. It seemed open and shut, butting the prosecution rested their case. But then Detective Stevenson stepped out into the hall and ran into patriarca's son, Raymond Jr. A young Raymond Patriarcha Jr. said to me out in the hallway, "Will you see the witness that we've got coming in?" I said, "What another one of your lineup of liars?" He said, "You'll see." That surprise witness? After the break. Welcome back. Before the break, buddy Cianci and the prosecution put a witness on the stand, named Red Kelly. He testified that he met with Raymond Patriarcha at the gaslight restaurant to plan the murders of Rudy Marfio and Anthony Malay. Things are looking bad for Patriarcha, but now it's the defense's turn and they have a witness of their own. Here's buddy again, talking at an event for his autobiography. The defense calls their first witness and the first witness is a priest with a call. His name is Father Raymond Moriotti. He hugs Patriarcha, then he gets on the stand. What's your name? Father Raymond Moriotti, where are you from? Oxen Hill, Maryland. What do you do on the pastor of St. Timothy's Church? Where were you on that day? The day that Patriarcha was supposed to clean him. Oh, I was with Mr. Patriarcha. Well, his wife had died and I came up to visit the grave stone at the gate of heaven summit and I had blessed the stone. Well, the 12 Catholics on the jury make the sound of the This is not good for buddy. Providence is heavily Catholic and now the jury is faced with a simple choice. Believe Father Moriotti, the priest in the collar, the Patriarcha was at the cemetery, blessing his wife's grave. Or, believe Red Kelly, the convicted felon, the Patriarcha was at the Gaslight Restaurant bordering the hit. Buddy and Stevenson fly to Maryland to check out Father Moriotti's story. They took talk on the clock and they raced to the church. Went into the church with the Moncinia, they gave us the records. There was the priest on that day that he was supposed to be with Patriarcha, baptizing the baby. Father Moriotti performed a baptism on a baby by the name of Stacey Lynn Densford on that day. I said to myself, "Aha!" The next steps to talk to Stacey Lynn's family, to verify the date of her baptism. When they arrive, Buddy sees two men waiting on the porch. Some familiar faces. We went from the church right to the house of these people that had their kids baptized on that day. It was on the porch, but Patriarcha's son and Joey Wanar was a mobster. Actually, it wasn't Joey Wanar. It was another wise guy, Joe Badway. That's literally his name. But the point is, Patriarcha wanted to send a message to Stacey Lynn's family. We've got an eye on you. How the fuck did they hear in the house? Detective Stevenson and a couple federal marshals share a few choice words with Raymond Jr. And the marshals told him in no uncertain terms to screw. I said, "Put your ass in your hand and get the hell out of here." When they go inside, Stacey Lynn's mother has a present for them. She says, "I've got a picture of Father Moriotti when we he baptized Stacey Lynn." I said, "Oh, really?" She said, "Yeah, it's a color polaroid picture." She says, "I'll show it to you." And his father Moriotti, holding the baby, and the mother and father on each side did it, April 6, 1968. The same date, Father Moriotti told the jury, he was with Patriarcha blessing his wife's grave. Patriarcha's alibi is shredded. Buddy and Stevenson grabbed the family, the priest, and the polaroid, and head off to catch a plane back to Providence. Who should be at the airport, but Raymond Jr. in his sidekick turns out they're all on the same flight home. The plane level's off at about 35,000 or whatever, and I look back up the aisle and there's Raymond Patriarcha, Jr., and they kept looking down. They kept looking back up, and they kept looking down. Well, about the third or fourth time, they give him the same when I turn around. When they land at Providence Airport, the press is waiting. They had to be, "I don't know how many cameras on the runway." So I had to shave another. So I go, I bring him to the attorney general's office, so all kinds of cops around. I bring him in. The club was going to start in like 20 minutes. So Father Moriotti goes back on the stand. Turns out he's not exactly an impartial witness. He and Patriarcha go way back. They were childhood friends. And now, the priest has to admit that he was not in Providence with Patriarcha on the dating question. And he said, "I don't know." He says, "I must have made a mistake." And he wouldn't admit to anything other than the fact that him and Raymond and Petriarcha sang with childhood sweet-hots. Father Moriotti steps down, and the jury begins deliberations. The jury returned to the fifth floor courtroom at 242 this afternoon. They had been deliberating since Friday afternoon. Before the verdict, Judge Eugene Galant cautioned the spectators, most friends of the defendants against any sporadic outbursts. A contingent of Providence police was brought in to bolster the already heavy security guard. When the foreman announced the not guilty verdict, the gallery burst into brief applause. Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. What happened? That's how I'd like to know. 63-year-old Patriarcha drooped in his chair a bit and then briefly cried. How did Patriarcha get off when it was so obvious the priest had lied? One answer is that Patriarcha's lawyers had done a good job poking holes in the testimony of buddy's key witness, Red Kelly. Here's Patriarcha's defense attorney. The turning point in the trial was Kelly's testimony. Having crust examined him at length, he completely changed his testimony, particularly as to the most important dates. Remember the gas-like restaurant where Kelly claimed to have met with Patriarcha to plan the murders? It had been closed at the time due to a fire. But there may be another explanation for why Patriarcha got off. One that reminds us of Providence is a small city where everyone is connected. Detective Stevenson. One of the jurors knew someone that knew Patriarcha. Okay and that person was a female and swung their jury the other way. At first they were going for a guilty verdict. She swayed them back the other way. And boy, we were devastated. We worked like a bastard on that thing. Here's the thing. A lot of people in Providence didn't think of Patriarcha as such a bad guy. Like the people in the courtroom cheering and guys from the neighborhood like Albert Baraducci who were not happy when Patriarcha was arrested. People that I knew they were outraged. I could do that to him. He's a great guy. Raymond was a good man. I'm going to piss him off. But he was a good man. He'd walk up and down that was Avenue. He would talk to everybody. Anybody need anything they would get it. I'm going to buy him houses or cars or anything else. But I mean, you know, somebody was in need of a few bucks. He wouldn't make sure that hey, you got a tank of oil or a food basket for Thanksgiving. He never heard it. He took care of more people than he heard. But not all Italian Americans in Providence saw Patriarcha as a good man. People like Vinny Vespia. He also grew up on Federal Hill. I met Raymond Petriarcha as a young boy. My dad knew him. There were times when I'd be walking with my father along. Apple's Avenue and he'd stop and chat with Raymond. What amazed me is that people said that he was so generous. They'd help people out of Thanksgiving. Well, you know something. You help people out of Thanksgiving. You do. And I do. Anybody would. I mean, but just because Raymond bought a turkey for, or five turkeys for five families, he put them on a person. Organized crime was given too much credit. You know, the emergence of fear. And if you come to their fear, then they know they own you. For people in Providence who felt the way Vinny Vespia did, Buddy Ciancy was a hero. Maybe he hadn't put Patriarcha behind bars. But still, here was an Italian American prosecutor, unafraid to take on the mob. The Patriarcha trial made Buddy famous. A picture of him in the priest ended up on the front page of the Providence Journal. The case even got its own nickname. They called it Father Alibi. And Buddy liked the attention too. All that press got him thinking. What if he could be more than just an assistant attorney general? For advice, he turned to a friend, Vinny Vespia, the guy from Federal Hill who knew Patriarcha as a kid. He wound up leaving the old neighborhood and becoming a cop. And he worked closely with Buddy. I was the younger detective and used to grab all my cases. One night after the trial, Buddy and Vespia went out to dinner on Federal Hill at the old canteen. I think I'm going to run for mayor. Either that, I'm going to buy a boat. Wait a minute, wait a minute. You're going to run for mayor or you're going to buy a boat. Why don't you get this thought? So I'll never forget this because you took a pen out of this park and they cleared a couple of dishes. You drew a tee right on the table. Wait a minute, that kind of offended me. What is a cost for a slip? What is a cost for insurance? What is a cost for a captain? What is a cost for the crew? All right, that's the one side of the tee. The other side of the tee, let's talk about running for mayor. You're going to have a manager. You're going to have advertising. You know, you're going to have a campaign, radio time, television time. So added up both sides. There was cheaper to run for mayor. I announced my candidacy for mayor of the city of province. Providence is essentially two hills on either side of a river. On one side, is Federal Hill, Patriarcha's domain. The other bank is the east side. It's where Brown University is, where the doctors and lawyers and professionals live. Between these two hills is City Hall. In running for mayor, Buddy was putting himself right in the middle of the struggle for the soul of this city. Buddy wanted to clean up the city, but would he change providence or would providence change him? Buddy and I were best friends, really, really close. He stood up for me when I got married. I stood up for him when he got married. He was an honest person. In those days, he was an honest person. He was a dedicated prosecutor, a very good prosecutor. It's a shame that what happened to him. For Buddy, who in baptism was given the pledge of eternal life, that he may now be admitted to the company of the saints, let us pray. Next time on Crime Town, we'll go deep into the Patriarcha Crime family and tell you what it takes to become a wise guy. In that day being a wise guy was the coolest fucking damn plan. There was nothing cooler. Movie stars were to be around. Crime Town is me, Mark Smirling and Zack Stewart Pontier. We are produced by Mike Flunkett and Drew Nellis, additional producing by Austin Mitchell. We are edited by Alex Bloomberg and Caitlin Kenney, fact checking by Mick Rouse. This episode of Crime Town was mixed by Matthew Bowle, sound design and scoring by Matthew Bowle. Our title track is Run to Your Mama by Goat. Shout out to David Jacobson for telling us about that song. Original music by John Cusiac, Kenny Cusiac, John Ivens, Edwin, and Beenard. Our ad music is Matthew Bowle, additional sound designed by Ted Robinson, it's over sound. Additional mixing by Enoch Kim. Alley Leroux is our design director and Kate Parkinson Morgan is our digital editor. Alex Bloomberg is the pod product. Thanks for your patience and guidance Alex. Please don't fire at us. This season of Crime Town is dedicated to the memory of Zachary Malinowski. We miss you Bill. Thanks to the Providence Journal, the Rhode Island Historical Society, Brad Turketta, and the Ciencius State, Paul Campbell, Damiano Marquetti, Jesse Rudoi, Julie Heyman's, Emily Wiedemann, Dr. Mary Ann Stewart, Dan Barry, Mike Stanton, check out his book, The Prince of Providence, Wayne Miller, Mary Murphy, and everyone who shared their stories with us. Providence is a special place, and we are honored to tell part of its story.