sanctuaries could not be disturbed; that building and construction would not be allowed. It wouldnât take long for him to put two and two together and realize that burying a body in such a place would just about guarantee the body would not be discovered. It was also said, people in the know recently confided, that Pitera had an autopsy table in the basement of a building he controlled.
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Pitera married a Brooklyn woman named Carol Boguski and had a male child with her. They named the boy Charles. This, however, was an ill-fated union and soon the couple separated. With the proceeds Pitera made from dealing drugs, he opened two bars: one in Cypress Gardens called Cypress Bar and Grill and another on Avenue S and West Eighth Street called the Just Us Bar. It was a residential street with few stores. More than being a moneymaking enterprise, it was a place for Pitera and his people to meet and arrange for drug sales; in reality, more a place to sell drugs than alcohol. Thatâs not to say they sold drugs over the bar or out of the bathroom. Deals were consummated here. Agreements and handshakes were made here. The physical passing of drugs happened elsewhere.
Now, when Pitera walked into a Brooklyn restaurant frequented by mafiosi, conversation slowed. People stared and pointed. Tommy Pitera had become what he always had wanted to be: feared and respected, a man not to be taken lightly. Pitera still practiced martial arts but now it was more to keep in shape, to keep well coordinated. He was a vain man and did not want to develop a stomach or jowls. Pitera continued to read voraciously about killing human beings, war, and destruction. He acquired books on how to dismember bodies and diligently studied where to cut and slice, deepening his knowledge of how to neatly take apart a body.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BUY AND BUST
T he war on drugs had not only heated up but was now being fought at a feverish pitch. The Drug Enforcement Administrationâs Group 33 had never been so busy. They were up against some of the most devious criminals of all time who hailed from Italy, Colombia, Mexico, Jamaica, Afghanistan, the Near and Far East, Turkey, and France. These were highly educated, highly motivated, particularly bright men who had ready, well-trained armies of cutthroats at their disposal. Modern business practices were perfected and scaled down to fit the drug lordsâ needs. They had scores of boats and planes and even submarines. They were busy constructing tunnels that ran from Mexico for several miles into the United States.
The men and women of the DEA fought a heroic battle with teeth and nails, hearts and souls, but no matter what efforts they made, how many sacrifices they were willing to make, it was never enough. Drug lords were like mushrooms after a heavy rain. They popped up everywhereâall shapes, sizes, and colorsâand you could not stop them. They were so effective that they literally created new words for the English language. As an example, the term Colombian necktie referred to a killing method in which the throat was cut and the tongue pulled out through the slit. It was a horrible, unsettling sight and would last withwhomever saw it for the rest of their lives. All the drug cartels, in their own ways, were particularly dangerous. However, the most dangerous were the Mexicans, the Colombians, and the Dominicans. For them, life was cheap. Most all these individuals, these drug lords, came up the hard way, were from the streets, were ruthless in the extreme, and theyâd kill you as soon as say hello to you. Murder, for them, was arbitration, conciliation. Reasoning, for them, was a bullet to the head. Might was right. When the Colombians wanted to kill one man, they would not only kill him but murder his entire familyâmen and women and childrenâthe very old as well as the very young.
Because they were able to use phony passports and various forms of identification, these were
Â
Pitera married a Brooklyn woman named Carol Boguski and had a male child with her. They named the boy Charles. This, however, was an ill-fated union and soon the couple separated. With the proceeds Pitera made from dealing drugs, he opened two bars: one in Cypress Gardens called Cypress Bar and Grill and another on Avenue S and West Eighth Street called the Just Us Bar. It was a residential street with few stores. More than being a moneymaking enterprise, it was a place for Pitera and his people to meet and arrange for drug sales; in reality, more a place to sell drugs than alcohol. Thatâs not to say they sold drugs over the bar or out of the bathroom. Deals were consummated here. Agreements and handshakes were made here. The physical passing of drugs happened elsewhere.
Now, when Pitera walked into a Brooklyn restaurant frequented by mafiosi, conversation slowed. People stared and pointed. Tommy Pitera had become what he always had wanted to be: feared and respected, a man not to be taken lightly. Pitera still practiced martial arts but now it was more to keep in shape, to keep well coordinated. He was a vain man and did not want to develop a stomach or jowls. Pitera continued to read voraciously about killing human beings, war, and destruction. He acquired books on how to dismember bodies and diligently studied where to cut and slice, deepening his knowledge of how to neatly take apart a body.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BUY AND BUST
T he war on drugs had not only heated up but was now being fought at a feverish pitch. The Drug Enforcement Administrationâs Group 33 had never been so busy. They were up against some of the most devious criminals of all time who hailed from Italy, Colombia, Mexico, Jamaica, Afghanistan, the Near and Far East, Turkey, and France. These were highly educated, highly motivated, particularly bright men who had ready, well-trained armies of cutthroats at their disposal. Modern business practices were perfected and scaled down to fit the drug lordsâ needs. They had scores of boats and planes and even submarines. They were busy constructing tunnels that ran from Mexico for several miles into the United States.
The men and women of the DEA fought a heroic battle with teeth and nails, hearts and souls, but no matter what efforts they made, how many sacrifices they were willing to make, it was never enough. Drug lords were like mushrooms after a heavy rain. They popped up everywhereâall shapes, sizes, and colorsâand you could not stop them. They were so effective that they literally created new words for the English language. As an example, the term Colombian necktie referred to a killing method in which the throat was cut and the tongue pulled out through the slit. It was a horrible, unsettling sight and would last withwhomever saw it for the rest of their lives. All the drug cartels, in their own ways, were particularly dangerous. However, the most dangerous were the Mexicans, the Colombians, and the Dominicans. For them, life was cheap. Most all these individuals, these drug lords, came up the hard way, were from the streets, were ruthless in the extreme, and theyâd kill you as soon as say hello to you. Murder, for them, was arbitration, conciliation. Reasoning, for them, was a bullet to the head. Might was right. When the Colombians wanted to kill one man, they would not only kill him but murder his entire familyâmen and women and childrenâthe very old as well as the very young.
Because they were able to use phony passports and various forms of identification, these were
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