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Posts: 8,748
Reply with quote  #1 

Ex- FBI Agent Accused In Mob Plot Gets OK To Watch Fireworks

POSTED: 8:55 am EDT June 27,                                                                                 2006
A former FBI agent accused of helping a ruthless mobster plot gangland slayings will get to see the fireworks this Fourth of July.A judge granted R. Lindley DeVecchio permission to stay out past his court-ordered 9 p.m. curfew to watch the fireworks display in Sarasota, Fla., where he lives.DeVecchio, 66, has pleaded not guilty to charges he collected weekly bribes in exchange for feeding classified information to a Mafia informant in the 1980s and 1990s.DeVecchio is free on bail and must remain inside his Sarasota home between 9 p.m. and 6 a.m.

But a judge ruled Monday he would be allowed him to stay up later on July 4, while cautioning DeVecchio there would be no further exceptions.

Posts: 8,748
Reply with quote  #2 
Speaking to students at Bowdoin College FBI agent Suzanne Douctte, wife of FBI agent Brad Doucette, told the audience how FBI agents in her office installed survelliance cameras under the desks of female agents and bet amongst each other about the color of the female agents underwear. FBI agent Doucette collapsed at work
from bleeding ulcers resulting from the treatment she received from co-workers after she filed her lawsuit when she was sexually assaulted by her supervisor at the FBI. Her husband went on to commit suicide.

two easy reads

Denver Post Mar 9, 1994

WASHINGTON - When Special Agent Gayle Wyche complained about sexual discrimination in the Drug Enforcement Administration, she says, a supervisor told her he would solve the problem - on condition she begin a personal relationship with him.

"He suggested we would go bar hopping, hot tubbing, etc. together on a weekly basis. He explained to me that this was how other female agents in the Albuquerque division were "taken care of,"' Wyche testified to a House investigative subcommittee yesterday.

A new report by the General Accounting Office, Congress' investigative arm, on sexual harassment complaints at the drug agency was released at the hearing.

It concluded that processing times for complaints were long, averaging 382 days; investigations and case files were incomplete; female employees feared retaliation for reporting harassment; employees lacked understanding of what behavior constitutes sexual harassment; and the agency's disciplinary actions were perceived as insufficient to deter future harassment.

After a year of investigations of her complaint, Wyche said she was offered a transfer to Denver with the promise that nothing from Albuquerque would follow her. She agreed.

Her new boss, it turns out, was a friend of the supervisors in Albuquerque - and he, too, began harassing her, she said.

Wyche now is on leave without pay.

Shirley Ann Garcia, an investigative assistant for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, said the special agent in charge in Dallas flicked his cigarette ashes down the front of her blouse several times.

Wyche, Garcia and three other female employees of federal law enforcement agencies - including the Federal Bureau of Investigation - alleged sexual harassment and retaliation in a hearing of the House Post Office and Civil Service subcommittee on oversight and investigations.

DEA spokesman Frank Shults said in a telephone interview that "DEA's policy on sexual harassment is very clear: It is not tolerated by any employees."

Susan McCarron, a spokeswoman for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, said that because Shirley Ann Garcia has complaints pending against the agency, she could not comment on the specific allegations.

McCarron said the agency's new policy regarding sexual harassment is "zero tolerance."

"ATF has taken steps ... and we will take all steps necessary to prevent (incidents of harassment) and to deal with them appropriately," she said.

Also testifying at the hearing were Katherine Churchill, a senior forensic chemist at the DEA's Southeast Laboratory in Miami; Ann Marie Canty Garcia, a DEA special agent in Hong Kong; and Suzanne Doucette, a former FBI agent who also testified last May to the Senate Committee on Governmental Affairs.

After that appearance, Doucette testified yesterday, male agents at her former office in Tucson played videotapes of her testimony and made derogatory comments about it.

"After being forced to leave the FBI, my career is over, my salary is gone and I am forced to sell personal belongings, including a car and my home," Doucette said.

FBI spokesman Nestor Michnyak said that because of Doucette's pending lawsuit against the agency, the FBI could not comment on her testimony.

"The FBI is confident all facts will be developed fully during the litigation," he said.

On a gray morning two years ago, Brad Doucette awoke before dawn after another restless night.

A top FBI counter-terrorism official, Doucette, 45, had gone to bed late after one more long day. Then his sleep had been interrupted by phone calls from agents in the field.

The first came about 4:30 a.m. and lasted so long that his wife, Suzane, grabbed a quilt and went to sleep in an adjacent bedroom in the couple's 1923 Victorian in the Chevy Chase section of Washington.

An hour or so later, Suzane heard Brad on another call. Her normally calm husband was yelling -- about what, she couldn't make out. By then, it was almost dawn and Doucette began his morning ritual. Preparing her coffee. Making himself toast. Placing his slacks in the pants presser. Setting aside two sodas for his drive to the office.

Normally, Doucette's routine next would have taken him to the shower. But Suzane never heard the soothing sound of streaming water. Instead, there was a loud bang, which she mistook for a lamp crashing to the floor.

"Brad? Brad?" she called out. There was no answer. She hurried to their bedroom.

There, she found Doucette lying motionless on the bed, a tiny spot of blood behind his right ear. He had shot himself with his FBI- issue, 9-millimeter pistol. She reached for the nightstand and a phone to call 911. But the line was dead; Brad had yanked it from the wall.

The coroner's office ruled Doucette's death April 29, 2003, a suicide. Those who knew him say the relentless pressure of working counter-terrorism helped push him over the edge.

"It was 100% the job," said Suzane, a former FBI agent. "The extreme exhaustion. The worry. Not being able to sleep. Not being able to leave Washington."

On Sept. 11, 2001, tracking down terrorists and preventing attacks became the FBI's most urgent priority. Three and a half years later, the relentless pace and the pressure to stay a step ahead of an elusive adversary are wearing down even seasoned agents.

"For many people, once they get home, they can leave their work at the office," said FBI chaplain Joe Williams, a Baptist minister. "The problem for federal agents in counter-terrorism is that they can't let it go. They are always thinking, 'Have I really covered everything today?' "

Doucette had spent nearly 20 years at the FBI. At the time of his death, he was head of an elite unit at bureau headquarters that investigates suspected espionage by Iran and the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah and other Shiite Muslim extremists.

FBI officials declined to comment on whether Doucette's suicide was related to his work. They said there were no statistics on job- related stress among counter-terrorism agents.

But the FBI is studying how those agents have been affected by the war on terrorism. The analysis will examine sick leave, resignations, disciplinary cases, requests for counseling and other factors.

"The people who do this counter-terrorism work literally feel responsible for everybody in the country," said Kathy Thomas, an Oklahoma psychologist who has counseled several hundred law enforcement officers, including FBI agents.

The pressure to anticipate and preempt terrorist acts, rather than investigate them after the fact, creates a special psychological burden, current and former agents say.

Ken Piernick, a colleague of Doucette's who preceded him as head of the Iran-Hezbollah unit, suffered a heart attack on the job and retired in December 2003 after 22 years with the FBI.

"The job -- not just for me, but for everybody -- is a meat grinder," he said.

After Sept. 11, "nobody was under the pressure the FBI was under," said Larry Mefford, who retired as the bureau's head of counter-terrorism two years after the attacks.

"I heard over and over again that if the CIA didn't catch the terrorists overseas or the Pentagon didn't capture or kill them, it was up to us," said Mefford, now head of global security for Wynn Resorts in Las Vegas.

Steve Moore, an agent in Los Angeles, spent nearly three years supervising investigations into Al Qaeda and other terrorist groups. Brad Doucette was once his supervisor. A year ago, Moore, a 21-year bureau veteran, asked for a new assignment. He is now an FBI pilot.

"People come to counter-terrorism wanting to make a difference," he said, "and three years later, you come out gasping for breath."


Aside from a paid obituary in his hometown newspaper in Little Falls, Minn., Doucette's death did not make the news. But it was all the talk inside the FBI, from Los Angeles to bureau headquarters in Washington.

FBI Director Robert S. Mueller III visited the Doucette home three times, once to hand-deliver letters from President Bush and then-Atty. Gen. John Ashcroft.

Doucette's family, friends and co-workers had been aware for months that he wasn't coping well with the pressure. To hear them tell it, it was as if his life had slipped away in slow motion. And they were helpless to stop it.

Doucette, who was born in Minnesota, grew up in Montana and Washington state. He attended the University of Washington, graduated with a law degree from Willamette University in Salem, Ore., and joined the FBI in 1983 at age 26.

An uncle had been in the FBI, and it was the only career that interested Doucette. He was especially drawn to intelligence work.

His first assignment was in the Sacramento field office, where he met Suzane, a divorced agent with two young daughters. In just over a year, they were married.

They were transferred first to New York and then to Phoenix. Suzane quit the FBI in 1993 after settling a sexual harassment lawsuit against the bureau. Brad's career, meanwhile, was on a steady climb.

By the time the Doucettes arrived in Los Angeles in 1994, he had worked almost all the prestige assignments: drug smuggling, bank robbery, white-collar crime. Then he moved into counter-terrorism.

Part detective work, part divination, the job requires agents and analysts to interpret wisps of information -- a telephone intercept in Pakistan, a suspicious passenger on a Paris-New York flight, a paid informant's tip -- to see if they foretell an attack.

Doucette seemed to thrive in the assignment. He worked on the investigation of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing, which killed six people and injured more than 1,000. The bureau's detective work laid the foundation for the conviction of four Islamic militants.

Doucette also helped supervise the investigation of the 1999 crash of an EgyptAir jet, which plunged into the ocean off New England, killing all 217 people aboard. The disaster was ultimately blamed on the copilot, who investigators said deliberately put the aircraft into a dive.

In 2000, Doucette ran the FBI command post for the Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles.

Even before Sept. 11, he wrestled constantly with how to chase an endless stream of leads. He worried that he might miss something, or pursue the wrong case, or act too late to prevent an attack.

"If he had a fault, it was that he cared too much," Moore said. "When you are a paramedic and see people die, you shouldn't dwell on their death and the loss. It's called building walls."

Doucette "couldn't build those walls," Moore said.


After Sept. 11, the atmosphere throughout the bureau became taut. Moore was one of three agents who helped Doucette pore over a stack of investigative leads every morning.

"It took four of us just to get through that stack every day by noon," Moore said.

While agents worked round-the-clock to prevent new attacks, the FBI was bombarded with criticism for having failed to detect the Sept. 11 plot.

It emerged that an agent in Phoenix, two months before the suicide hijackings, had alerted superiors that Muslim extremists were training at U.S. flight schools.

In August 2001, agents in Minnesota detained a French-Moroccan flight student who they suspected was training for a terrorist mission. The agents could not get clearance from FBI higher-ups to search Zacarias Moussaoui's laptop computer.

Moussaoui was in federal custody when the terrorists struck. According to the Sept. 11 commission, he had been preparing to participate in the hijackings or in a second wave of attacks that never materialized. Last month, he pleaded guilty to conspiring with Al Qaeda and faces the death penalty.

The FBI's Los Angeles office figured in another missed opportunity. In late August 2001, the CIA told the bureau that two suspected terrorists -- Nawaf al Hazmi and Khalid al Mihdhar -- were in the U.S. On Sept. 10, agents in New York passed the tip to Los Angeles, believing the men were in Southern California.

By then, it was too late. Hazmi and Mihdhar had left for the East Coast to participate in the hijackings.

The episode underscored how costly even the slightest lapse in vigilance could be.

"Brad shared everybody's concern: Did we somehow screw up?" Moore said.

Despite the pressure, Doucette found time for family, friends and football. A high school quarterback, he was a devoted fan of his alma mater, the University of Washington.

"He never missed a Huskies game" on television, Suzane said.

The couple lived comfortably in one of the Spanish-style houses that blanketed the suburb of Calabasas. Their next-door neighbors were Scott and Victoria Sterlekar.

"I'm sure, with the job he had, he was very serious at work," Victoria recalled. "But at home, he was really fun."

Suzane said her husband never let the stress get the best of him. Years earlier, they'd had occasion to discuss suicide when an agent in Los Angeles killed himself after being charged with public drunkenness and assault.

"We both agreed that suicide is never an option," Suzane recalled, "that no job is worth it."


Doucette had never given much thought to working at FBI headquarters. But in early 2002, he heard Mueller tell supervisors that the fight against terrorism required more talent and commitment than ever.

Inspired, Doucette applied for a high-level job in Washington -- and got it. He started his new position directing the Iran- Hezbollah unit in September 2002.

Within weeks, the pressure-cooker environment of the seventh floor at headquarters, home to the FBI's upper management, was consuming him.

Doucette oversaw scores of FBI agents throughout the U.S. and abroad who monitored Iranian agents and Shiite Muslim extremists.

Piernick, his former colleague, said he spoke with Doucette several times about his new job: "I told him you have to be remorseless in the pursuit of terrorists."

He told Doucette that meant pushing agents beyond what might be considered reasonable, requiring them to chase even the skimpiest leads.

Doucette listened politely, Piernick said. "But when you talk to people, you know when they don't agree with you," he said. "I don't think Brad liked to be the bad cop ever."

In March 2003, Doucette was given another demanding responsibility -- an FBI command post launched with the start of the Iraq war. Its mission was to oversee interviews with Iraqi exiles in the U.S. and collect intelligence for American troops.

Juggling two jobs left him drained. "He worked seven days a week and even if he was at home, he was constantly on the phone," Suzane said.

Doucette shed 30 pounds from his sturdy 5-foot-11 frame. His good humor was gone too. An amateur astronomer, he was too exhausted to take time out for his telescopes.

"He didn't even watch football," Suzane said.

That Christmas, the Sterlekars flew in from California and found the Doucette home decorated for the holidays. But when they sat down for dinner, something was different.

"He didn't look the same," Victoria said. "He had lost a lot of weight. He just didn't seem like the same old Brad."

After a few months in Washington, Suzane did something radical for a former agent who had spent years in a world defined by bureau politics, bureau procedures and bureau parties.

"I begged him to leave the FBI," she recalled.

He refused.

Piernick last saw Doucette in the FBI cafeteria, his shoulders slumped.

"He had folded up like an origami figure," Piernick said. "I asked him if there was anything I could do to help, and he said he was OK."

Doucette's stepdaughters, who live in Los Angeles, last saw him three months before his death.

"He lost his color," said Cyndi Shope, an actress. "He looked gray."

Her sister, Kelli Shope, editor in chief of a Pepperdine University law journal, said: "He was not one to complain at all, but you knew the work was incredibly hard. He knew people's lives were on the line."

Five days before his death, Suzane said, Brad called her from the office to say he had nearly blacked out. She picked him up and drove him to the hospital. After a series of tests, a doctor told Doucette that he was suffering from exhaustion.

"The next day," Suzane said, "he was back at work."

The night before he died, the couple enjoyed a simple dinner of soup and sandwiches at a local restaurant. They talked about the usual things -- family, his job. Doucette was troubled that his boss wanted him to fire two intelligence analysts because they could not handle the assignment. Doucette thought they just needed guidance.

The couple got home late, and Doucette crawled into bed about 2 a.m. He was dead a few hours later.

Suzane has asked the FBI to honor Brad's memory by issuing a 20- year service pin -- even though he died six months short of the milestone.

She has also petitioned the bureau for death benefits on the grounds that his death was job-related.

"Suicide is a statement and there is a degree of finality associated with that statement," Piernick said. "You are not just killing yourself; you are punishing someone. I am not sure who Brad was trying to punish. It may have been the bureau."

Posts: 8,748
Reply with quote  #3 
Victims tune out mob show
By Peter Gelzinis
Boston Herald Columnist
Friday, July 7, 2006 - Updated: 08:26 AM EST

Whitey Bulger murdered her brother 32 years ago and dumped his body in a hole where it stayed until September of 2000.
 Brotherhood Bulger:
    She hardly needs to watch “Brotherhood,” a Showtime series inspired by the gracelessness and treachery of our own Bulger brothers, to see what she’s already experienced first hand.
    “Yes, I do have the Showtime channel on my cable,” said the South Boston woman, who asked that her name not be used, “but no, oh God, no, I don’t think I’d watch it.

    “I hear it’s awfully raw and very vicious,” she added, “and besides, what would be the point? I don’t need a TV show to remind of the torture my family lived through. Many people lived this. It wasn’t make believe, or some kind of entertainment. All these years later, it still hurts. The pain doesn’t go away. It aggravates me that people can make money off so much real blood, especially when a few of those people had some responsibility for shedding it.”
    David Wheeler has what might be considered a more unorthodox, if sophisticated, view of the marketing of the Bulgers’ Cain and Abel tale. His father, Roger, a Tulsa corporate executive, was targeted for death through the unholy but intimate alliance Whitey enjoyed with his friends at the FBI.
    “I was born a capitalist,” Wheeler said, “the son of a self-made man, a true American success story. So, I’m not necessarily bothered by the idea of someone looking to make money...even off a story like this. Provided it’s the right story.
    “What bothers me,” Wheeler said, “is that TV invariably misses it, or ignores it, or screws up the real story. I know very little about this (“Brotherhood”) series, but my guess is that it will be a kind of cartoon that glorifies the delivery boys, rather than explaining how they were used as murdering thugs to do the government’s (see FBI) bidding.”
    In David Wheeler’s view, the treachery that took his father’s life in the parking lot of the Tulsa Country Club 25 years ago, bankrupting his business and all but destroying his family, is infinitely darker and more sinister than the “window dressing” of foul-mouthed gangsters slicing off ears and commandeering a Providence liquor store.
    “When the FBI is an active participant in gunning down the CEO of a public company in broad daylight,” Wheeler said, “you’ve got a story that goes way beyond cops and robbers and shady politicians.
    “I don’t know if any TV network is willing to take a hard look at that right now. I suppose it’s easier to stick with Irish gangsters and Italian gangsters.”
    Though Steve Davis’ sister, Debbie, was Steve Flemmi’s girlfriend for a time, it was Whitey Bulger who put a rope around her neck and strangled the life out of her, less than 10 feet away from the house where Billy Bulger slept

“If I watch this show at all,” Davis said yesterday, “and chances are I probably won’t, I’ll watch it to see if they got the Billy character right. To me, he’s even worse than the other brother, the sonovabitch who killed my sister. At least he’s gone, but the other guy’s still here and still looking to get his grubby hands on a much of the public’s money as he can.”
    Sad to say, Steve, they got the Billy character wrong. The hungry young pol in “Brotherhood” is but a pale imitation of the seasoned predator who owned the State Senate for 17 years.

Posts: 8,748
Reply with quote  #4 
FBI Public Relations firm , The New York Times, carefully ignores identical case going on in Boston FBI office with murder charges filed against Boston FBI agent John Connolly.
Two similar cases no Times investigative reporting.

In Role Reversal, Ex-F.B.I. Agents Align Themselves With Defendant

Heidi Schumann for The New York Times

R. Lindley DeVecchio, center, with two unidentified men outside the federal courthouse in Brooklyn last month, is charged in four killings.

Published: September 11, 2006

When Lin DeVecchio goes to court, he never goes alone.

His lawyers are there, making arguments. The news media are there, taking photographs and notes.

His wife sometimes shows up, making small, sorrowful faces as she grips him by the hand.

Then there are the men who make a path for him as they escort him back and forth through the crowd. The ones with the gray hair and the jowls, the stern faces and the off-the-rack suits.

Almost from the moment he was charged in March with helping to commit four murders for the mob, R. Lindley DeVecchio has been surrounded by this posse of supporters: retired F.B.I. men who for years were not only his colleagues, but also his friends.

They watch his back. Personally guarantee his million-dollar bond. Solicit money for his legal bills. Scoff at his accusers. Interview — or, some have said, intimidate — witnesses in the case.

And at every chance they get, tell whoever cares to listen that Mr. DeVecchio is an innocent man.

Sixty-five years old and retired from the F.B.I., Mr. DeVecchio stands accused in a state indictment of four counts of second-degree murder.

The Brooklyn district attorney’s office says he helped an informant in the mob, Gregory Scarpa Sr., kill four times in the 1980’s and early 1990’s, so that Mr. Scarpa could rid himself of rivals and win bloody battles in a war within the Colombo family.

To a federal agent, there is nothing more toxic than a corruption charge — which even by association can ruin a career. And the charges faced by Mr. DeVecchio are radioactive: that he gave secret information to Mr. Scarpa in exchange for $66,000.

Which makes it all the more remarkable that 19 former F.B.I. agents have put their names and reputations on the line to save their troubled friend. These were not the bureaucrats or pencil pushers of the New York office, but its veteran undercover and investigative men.

“We’ve all worked with Lin since the early 1970’s,” said Joseph D. Pistone, the real-life Donnie Brasco, who infiltrated the Bonanno crime family as an undercover agent in the 1970’s.

“We’re all veteran street guys,” Mr. Pistone said. “If anyone could smell something bad, it would be us. And with Lin, we never smelled bad.”

The so-called Friends of Lin DeVecchio have a total of 480 years of street experience, give or take a few, and while most spend their time these days on a golf course or at the shore, they remain encyclopedic on the subject of the mob.

Who knows better than us, they say, what happened 20 years ago at Carmine Sessa’s bar or at Larry Lampesi’s house near McDonald Avenue in Brooklyn? (Both places will figure prominently at trial.)

“We gathered the information,” said James M. Kossler, who from 1979 to 1989 was Mr. DeVecchio’s boss.

Much of that information has been posted on a Web site, http://www.lindevecchio.com, which attempts to refute the state indictment with transcripts of federal trials and with private F.B.I. reports called 302’s. There is information about how to donate money toward Mr. DeVecchio’s legal expenses.

The Web site also levels personal attacks against the state’s lead prosecutor, Michael Vecchione; its chief witness, Linda Schiro, Mr. Scarpa’s former companion; and Sandra Harmon, who is a self-described relationship coach and the co-author with Priscilla Presley of a tell-all book on Elvis Presley, and who had planned to write a book with Ms. Schiro but wrote one instead about Mr. Scarpa’s son.

Mr. DeVecchio’s supporters make no bones about their deep disdain for the Brooklyn district attorney, Charles J. Hynes, who they say considers a good Mafia case to be rounding up gamblers on Super Bowl Sunday.

“Here you have a rackets bureau that doesn’t know a thing about organized crime,” Mr. Kossler said. “They don’t know what they’re doing. If they had a track record of making great O.C. cases, fine — but they don’t.”

The bad blood between the state and the F.B.I. goes back many years, to at least 1992, when Mr. Scarpa went into hiding after Brooklyn prosecutors obtained a warrant for his arrest on a gun possession charge. From April to August of that year, court papers say, Mr. Scarpa met or spoke with Mr. DeVecchio seven times, but the F.B.I. neither informed the state of his whereabouts nor arrested Mr. Scarpa.

Jerry Schmetterer, a spokesman for Mr. Hynes, waved off accusations that the office was incompetent.

“These people who are making these allegations can’t possibly know the depth of the evidence we have compiled to make this case,” he said.

Part of that evidence is likely to include the testimony of Lawrence Mazza, Mr. Scarpa’s one-time disciple, who has already told investigators that Mr. Scarpa had a friend in law enforcement, whom he used to call “the girlfriend.”

Mr. Mazza, who now works at a gym in southern Florida, said that several weeks ago, one of the retired agents paid him a visit. Without saying exactly what happened, he said the agent had tried to intimidate him in connection with the case.

Mr. Kossler scoffed at the charge, saying the former agent had gone to Florida merely to interview Mr. Mazza on Mr. DeVecchio’s behalf. As a witness for the prosecution, Mr. Mazza is of obvious interest to the defense, he said.

While the prosecution has said in court that intimidation of witnesses may have occurred, it will not publicly discuss Mr. Mazza’s accusation.

At its core, the DeVecchio case is about the tenuous give-and-take that exists between an agent and a confidential source.

Prosecutors say that Mr. DeVecchio abused that give-and-take, giving Mr. Scarpa names and addresses of men who wound up dead.

Mr. DeVecchio has said that in the 12 years he “ran” Mr. Scarpa, he never leaked a secret and never received anything more than a Cabbage Patch doll, a bottle of wine and a pan of lasagna.

As for the Friends of Lin DeVecchio, they maintain it takes a special sort of man to handle Mafia informants. He must speak the language of the street and of the F.B.I. He must appreciate the criminal mind without admiring it. He must be able to cultivate trust among those who trust no one but themselves.

“That’s the fine line the agent has to walk — to always remember who he is and who he’s dealing with,” said Christopher Mattice, who served for many years as the F.B.I.’s informant coordinator in New York.

“You have to talk the language and make them understand you understand what’s going on.”

And most important, he said, you must remember that no conversation between an agent and a mole takes place in a vacuum. Questions fashioned to elicit information give information: If Agent X asks about Gangster Y, it means that he is interested in Gangster Y. If Gangster Y winds up dead, is that Agent X’s fault?

For now, Mr. DeVecchio’s trial is scheduled to open at the beginning of next year, and his federal friends are planning to attend.

“The bond is very close,” said Douglas E. Grover, Mr. DeVecchio’s lawyer. “It’s not just that they worked together; it’s like they were in the Army together, like they went through the wars.”

Should things go poorly for Mr. DeVecchio, his supporters will not quit, they say.

“We’ll continue to do what we’re doing,” Mr. Kossler said. “We’ll fight this as far as it has to go.”


Posts: 8,748
Reply with quote  #5 

FBI responds to ACLU with blank pages

Fully blacked-out page after fully blacked-out page constituted the federal response to FOIA on tracking

The only unredacted text in one of two memos provided to the ACLU

Last year, following the Supreme Court ruling that law enforcement does not have the authority to put a warrantless GPS tracker on a suspect’s car, the ACLU compelled the FBI to detail other ways in which they were tracking individuals.

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