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Law enforcement had built a sting operation, and was intentionally egging him on, and Carmine fell right into his trap. I made a comment like, “I just don’t understand why law enforcement is so interested in Carmine.
It’s not like he’s somebody.” By which I meant somebody involved in the life. I also said, “If one reporter prints that Carmine is a mobster, I’m going to sue.” My mother said, “Vicki, don’t get involved in something you know nothing about.
Just a few minutes later, a dirty old tow truck pulled up to the church with Carmine in the passenger side and his brother Mike at the wheel.
Behind the tow truck was Marie Agnello in her Chevy Nova, with her daughter and two of her sisters.
The fleet of limos sent to pick up my fiancé and his family had never arrived.
My father adjusted his bow tie and the lapels to his custom-made tuxedo then turned to me and said, “Too bad.
I couldn’t understand why, especially since he knew my feelings about the life. Carmine turned it into a carnival — literally, with a Ferris wheel, a specially built funhouse, rides, popcorn and cotton candy stands, and a hayride that went on for hours.
And, of course, for the adults, there was an Elvis impersonator, flown in from Las Vegas, who not only looked like the real deal, but sounded like him, too.
One night while I was serving dinner, he said something that greatly disturbed me.
You’ll only look foolish when the truth comes out.” That was when I realized Carmine was, in fact, part of the life — and my mother had known.
Obviously, my father knew this — in fact, he’d allowed it. That Halloween, I’d suggested we have a small party for the kids and their classmates.
He’d confronted the guy at first and made a thinly veiled threat.
Something like, “If you keep stealing my customers, you’ll pay the price in the end.” A week later, the man increased his prices yet again.