Boston
One man's hit man is another's humanitarian. Johnny "The Executioner" Martorano, who turned government witness and copped to killing 20 men and women as part of Whitey Bulger's gang, explained to Whitey's lawyer Tuesday in federal court that he was motivated by love of family and friends.
"I didn't enjoy killing anybody," he said. "I enjoyed helping a friend if I could."If anybody insulted, implicated or roughed up his brother or a friend's brother, if anybody looked at him funny while he was with a date, if anybody ratted on his fellow gang members, if anybody could eyewitness a crime committed by an "associate," he grabbed a .38 or a knife, a fake beard, a walkie-talkie or a towel to keep the blood off his car, and sprang into action. And somebody usually ended up in a trunk somewhere, sometimes still groaning.
"Family and friends come first," said the bulldog-faced enforcer. "The priests and the nuns I grew up with taught me that. They always talked about Judas. A Judas is the worst person in the world."
He did not look at his former pal, the short, trim 83-year-old Bulger of South Boston, sitting military straight at the defense table, and Bulger's ice-blue eyes did not turn toward him.
So many Judases, so little time.Whitey sees Martorano as a Judas for making a deal with the feds and testifying against him in a trial where he's pleading not guilty to involvement in 19 murders. Martorano sees Whitey as a Judas for his years as a snitch for John Connolly, a Boston FBI agent who was a Judas to the FBI because he helped Whitey steer clear of trouble. Whitey's younger brother, William, who rose to be a political boss in Massachusetts, was a mentor to Connolly when he was a young man.
In a gravelly monotone, with utter aplomb, Martorano talked about those he had taken out with a shot to the temple or heart, between the eyes or in the back of the head — plus several who were hit by mistake, including a teenage boy and girl.
In a sneering cross-examination Tuesday, Henry Brennan, a lawyer on Whitey's defense team, referred to Martorano's deal for a "so-called sentence" of 14 years (12 served) for 20 murders and asked the Executioner if he felt he was killing out of honor and integrity.
"I thought both," Martorano replied.
Brennan sarcastically asked, "And that makes you a vigilante like Batman?"
"I would rather be considered as a vigilante than a serial killer," Martorano answered, adding: "A serial murderer kills for fun. They like it. I didn't like doing any of it. I didn't like risking my life, either. I never had any joy, never had any joy at all."
On the lam in Florida from charges of horse-race fixing and racketeering, he flew to Tulsa, Okla., in 1981 to kill a stranger, Roger Wheeler, the owner of World Jai Alai, as a favor to his friend John Callahan, who had been president of World Jai Alai and who was worried that Wheeler suspected him of skimming money from jai alai frontons.
He shot Wheeler in his car after he came off the golf course, and Callahan rewarded the Executioner with $50,000.
But it was not a quid pro kill, Martorano explained with gangsta gall: "He gave me that money in appreciation for me risking my life for him so that he wouldn't go to jail."
The lawyers did their best to make sure everyone understood the criminal argot peppering the testimony.
They had Martorano explain the meaning of a boiler (a stolen car), a crash car (a car that can slow down or bump a police car), a throw-off (planting evidence to throw off the investigation to go a different direction) and even a gang.
"What was a gang?" asked the prosecutor.
"A group of guys that got together and formed a gang," Martorano replied.
"For what purpose?" the prosecutor asked.
"Illegal purposes," the Executioner explained.
Maureen Dowd writes for The New York Times.