Made Men by Greg B. Smith Page B

prosecution. Sitting in the Metropolitan Correctional Center in lower Manhattan, Legitimate Larry had a series of conversations with his father and mother in which he outlined the rationale and benefits of becoming what he, for years, derisively referred to as a rat.
In his many talks, all of which were recorded (with his knowledge), he outlined a complex rationale for informing on friends and associates that started with the premise that the Mafia wasn’t what he thought it was. This “men of honor” stuff somehow seemed overblown.
“We’re thinking we just have to be, you know, loyal and honorable,” he tells his father. “But it’s bullshit. Like that’s why I don’t feel anything derogatory toward myself for this. Nothing at all. I really don’t. Put it this way: If I had something to stand up for, I think you’d know I would stand up. This life isn’t what I thought it was, so I’m not turning on it. I’m not turning on a loyal bunch of friends, real close guys, family guys. You know, they break every other rule, and I’m not supposed to break this rule?”
Legitimate Larry then let a tiny bit of momentary fame get to him. According to a March 1994 Daily News article in which his exploits as the protégé of a particularly deranged Colombo gangster named Greg Scarpa had been dutifully recorded, his relationship with Scarpa was somewhat unusual, even by mob standards. Legitimate Larry was actually conducting a regular sexual relationship with Scarpa’s common-law wife of twenty years, and Scarpa— who was dying of AIDS—heartily approved. Now, as he sat in the Metropolitan Correctional Center in lower Manhattan chatting with his father, Legitimate Larry got an idea.
“I’ve been writing a lot,” he revealed. “First I did just like notes. Now I’m trying to make it in a, you know, story form.”
“Well,” offered his father, “if you get one of the big guys interested, all these big book publishers....” Larry’s idea was to sell his story to the newspaper reporter who had written the News feature, who would then turn it into a bestseller that could possibly make Legitimate Larry... well, legitimate.
Over the weeks he refined his idea. Talking with his mother, he scoffed at the idea that any one would actually try to kill him for revealing the inner secrets of this reputedly secret society.
“I’m not afraid of them at all,” he said. “Don’t worry about that.” He then brought up, again, the newspaper article that he hoped would lead him to Hollywood. By now he was working on theme development. “The article that came out was good,” he says. “It showed how I started out one way and, you know, wound up with the devil.”
Mother: “Yeah.”
Larry: “Like I says, hopefully I could write somethin’ good.”
Mother: “Yeah, that would be good, too.”
Larry: “That would be nice. Others have done it. And I’ve got a very good story there, so... from here to the war.”
Mother: “Yeah, yeah.”
Larry: “You know?” January 20, 1998
    For hours and then days Ralphie Guarino sat with FBI agents in a windowless room inside 26 Federal Plaza in lower Manhattan learning things. He first learned that the FBI had collected not a little bit of evidence indicating that he was the criminal mastermind behind the World Trade Center heist. He learned that he could go to jail for twenty years and watch his two children grow up only from the confines of a prison visiting room. He would lose everything he had—his real estate, his wife, his family. There was an option. He could reject all he had been told about the evils of the informant, the rat, the squealer, the canary, and agree to cooperate with the Manhattan United States Attorney’s Office.
“Where do I sign?” Ralphie asked.
    It was true that his friends in the DeCavalcante crime family still referred to informants as rats and would kill him on the spot if they knew. It was true that several members of the DeCavalcante crime family