Yet another gun-grabbing cop who won't investigate a murder
Was money changing hands at the pizza parlor after a successful Mafia hit?
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The following day, Aug. 2, the bodies of Lauren Semanchik, 33, and Tyler Webb, 29, were found in a home roughly 600 feet (183 meters) away from the location of the first 911 caller. Prosecutors say the two had been shot to death by New Jersey State Police Lieutenant Ricardo Santos, who had later killed himself. … ¶His lawyer, Charles Sciarra, didn’t immediately respond to an email seeking comment Saturday but, in a statement to the New York Post, called the charges “unfortunate.”… ¶The families of the two shooting victims, meanwhile, have said they are “shocked at Sgt. Bollaro’s egregious conduct” and believe it is the “tip of the iceberg of the many failures by the local and state police” in the killings, WABC-TV reports.
This article stops short of calling out federal police misconduct although there are a great many reports of that in other cases in the mainstream media. Murder is typically a state crime, except in cases such as murder-for-hire where money changes hands across state lines.
FBI does not really have the jurisdiction to investigate or interfere with the investigation of simple murders outside of federal property. The fact that Ricardo Santos killed himself suggests the possibility that money was discovered to be changing hands at the restaurant after a successful hit. "Half the cash now, and half when the guy is dead," etc. If this was a murder-for-hire, then who else was at the restaurant meeting with Bollaro and possibly Santos? And who commissioned the hit? Here the FBI would have jurisdiction as soon as cash is withdrawn from the ATM.
Office of the Law Revision Counsel
And this reminds me of a man who was murdered in my hometown, and although the murderers were "caught," they were never really brought to justice on any proper felony charges.
He had been frequenting or hanging out at a local 24-hour gas station, and I had been, too, for occasional snacks and meals as well as gasoline, but I did not know the man very well, as he was quite shy and kept to himself, and I only saw him rarely, and never had the opportunity for a conversation with him. He was simply one of a number of strangers or residents of a small town I might have known or recognized by face but probably not by name.
I had chanced to be present at a late night "family" discussion which was taking place at the gas station the very night he was murdered, with the boss present, and I was included in that discussion and conversation by mistake, as I had been there many times myself and the boss either didn't notice me there or somehow assumed me to be a made member of the mafia family which I was not.
Other common names for members include man of honor (Italian: uomo d'onore), man of respect (Italian: uomo di rispetto), one of us (Italian: uno di noi), friend of ours (Italian: amico nostro), good fella, and wiseguy, although the last two terms can also apply to non-initiated Mafia associates who work closely with the Mafia, rather than just official "made men". Earning or making one's "bones" or "button" or becoming a "button man" for the Mafia is usually synonymous with becoming a "made man". ¶Other street terms for being initiated into the Mafia include being "straightened out" or "baptized", and earning one's "badge".[1] "Opening the books" and "closing the books" are phrases used in the Mafia to indicate, respectively, that a family is ready or unwilling/unable to accept new members.
(So a "man of honor" would be in a literal sense the best man at a wedding where any actual family would be accepting new members, and the "books are closed" when all the brothers and sisters are married, in the flowery figures of speech or "wedding language" used by Italians.)
In any case, they did not recognize me. In fact several years prior to that, the same boss of the same family had commissioned to murder me on the highway in an extremely remote area, and the would-be killers forced me to crash into a large boulder which was left in my lane, by suddenly overtaking me and closing off all path of escape I had in the blowing snow. I was driving about 55mhp when I crashed into the boulder, and somehow I landed uninjured with my truck in the river. The would-be murderers were overconfident and somehow reported my death officially, and apparently collected their murder commission for the hit on me at that time, and I had to see a doctor about a year later to prove that I was still alive.
The boss only belatedly recognized me as the victim of the previous attempted hit he had commissioned so many years ago, and he was so enraged that with the services of a consigliere he began circulating purported photos and videos of me and filing false police reports and related S.O.P. against me in various places, with all the impotence of a crime boss who had failed to arrange one successful hit, and been caught red-handed at the police station with too much law enforcement involvement in the commissioning of another hit against a different individual.