HE PAID FOR FBI’S MISTAKE
Limone spent 33 years in prison for murder he didn’t commit
Peter Limone, a Mafia soldier from the North End who just died at the age of 83, spent 33 of those years in prison for a murder he didn’t commit — because he was framed by the FBI.
Think about that the next time you see some talking head on TV pontificating from Washington about how the FBI is the world’s greatest law enforcement agency blah-blah-blah.
Think about Peter Limone, and his three innocent co-defendants, Louie Grieco, Henry Tameleo and Joe “the Horse” Salvati. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity — yeah, right.
Not only did the FBI know Limone et al. weren’t guilty, they also knew who the real killers were. The morning after the hit on Teddy Deegan in a Chelsea alley in March 1965, the Boston FBI sent an “airtel” memo to J. Edgar Hoover naming the real triggermen.
But one of them was Joe “the Animal” Barboza, the first hood in the Witness Protection Program. Barboza wanted to take some Mafia guys off the board, and so did the crooked agents in the Boston FBI.
Grieco and Tamelo died in state prison. The only one who survives is Salvati. He was put in the death car by the Animal because he had refused to repay $200 he owed Barboza, meaning the Horse paid off a $200 debt with 33 years of his life.
In 2007 Limone and the others (or their estates) were awarded $101.7 million by a federal judge, which sounds good for about two seconds until you remember the 33 lost years.
The frame was set up by two Boston G-men, H. Paul Rico and Dennis Condon. They wanted to protect their prize canary, Joe the Animal. The Animal’s obsession was taking down “In Town,” the Boston Mafia. You see, when Barboza was raising bail money to get out of jail in 1966, the Mafia had lured two of his collectors to a dive on Commercial Street, murdered them and stolen $82,000 cash.
This was Barboza’s revenge, more for the $82,000 than for his two hoods.
Everybody always knew that Barboza was lying, and that the FBI was framing the four North End guys. It was mentioned in books, court filings etc. But still they couldn’t get the sentences overturned.
Every few years they’d come up for parole, and the FBI would send an agent to the hearing. Usually it would be John “Zip” Connolly, another legendarily bent G-man now doing 40 years in Florida for a gangland hit in Miami.
Finally, in 1997, hitman John Martorano began talking to the feds. He had been a friend of Barboza’s. In 1967, while in protective custody as a rat, Barboza had called Martorano at a pay phone in Lynn and told him he was planning to lie on the witness stand.
Before the trial began, Martorano had gone to the boss of In Town, Jerry Angiulo, and offered to go on the witness stand and tell the true story. But Angiulo figured it wasn’t necessary. As cynical as he was, even Angiulo couldn’t imagine a jury believing Barboza, especially considering that Louie Grieco, a World War II hero, had been in Florida the night Deegan was murdered.
But the jury bought it, and Limone remained behind bars decade after decade until Martorano began cutting a deal of his own. He told the story again, and this time somebody listened. Shortly thereafter, the prosecutor probing FBI corruption in Boston got the old 1965 records proving the frame up.
In 2003, at age 77, Rico was called before Congress and asked how he could frame four innocent men.
“What do you want?” Rico famously sneered. “Tears?”
A year later, Rico was dead in a prison hospital in Tulsa. He was under indictment for a gangland hit in Oklahoma.
Limone at least he died a free man, which is more than can be said of Rico (and probably eventually Connolly). I called Martorano yesterday.
“He was a real man,” Martorano said. “He was old-school, a good guy.”
Forget James Comey. Peter Limone and H. Paul Rico – they are the real story of the FBI.