Skinny Joey, Philly's crime boss, sentenced to two years in prison for illegal gambling | American News



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Joseph "Skinny Joey" Merlino lived what a lot of middle-aged gangsters would consider a coveted life.

After serving a significant portion of his 14-year racket jail sentence, the alleged crime chief swapped the harsh Philly winters for a home in the quiet suburb of Boca Raton, South Florida, in 2011.

According to the Miami Herald, he sits in a $ 400,000 US townhouse, in an indefinite cul-de-sac, in a broken neighborhood of biscuits.

Merlino, who survived 25 unsuccessful attempts at its peak, told The Herald that his new line of work was a carpet installation.

But the problems eventually invaded the new life of Merlino.

He returned to prison for four months after spending time with an old friend in a cigar bar. And in August 2016, he was one of 46 alleged defendants involved in a massive racket project covering the east coast, prosecutors said.

The US Attorney's Office in Manhattan said the criminal families of Philly, Genovese, Gambino, Lucchese and Bonanno were all working together on this unique project.

After discovering that two FBI agents involved in this case may have treated a key witness badly, several of these men were offered a plea bargain for less serious charges and decided to plead guilty. .

Merlino, who has long been known for his media relations, resisted the trend and was tried in January. The proceedings ended with a lawsuit for annulment because of a jury in stalemate. Instead of trying again, Merlino's attorneys and lawyers negotiated an agreement.

Merlino, now 56, pleaded for a single gambling count in April.

On Wednesday, he was sentenced to two years in federal prison.

When asked when he wanted to comment outside the courtroom, Merlino replied "no" and focused his attention on a water fountain. But when he left the courthouse, Merlino gave his opinion about the crowd informants who had cooperated with the authorities to help him put him back in jail.

"President Trump was right. They have to ban the fins, "he said.

Merlino's conviction, however, is not merely an apparent conclusion of a high-profile case. His imminent imprisonment may well speak of the long-term decline of La Cosa Nostra.

Elements of soprano organized crime continue to exist – and, given the bloodshed and death associated with these elements – remain strangely romanticized.

But the time of the gaudy John Gotti is well and truly past, such as the costumes of Tony Brioni which earned him the nickname "The Dapper Don" and the pomp captured in movies such as Casino.

(Merlino, formerly known as "John Gotti of Passyunk Avenue," wore a knit hoodie on the first day of her trial.)

The legalization of many mafia industries, such as gambling, has also prevented many men from making a decent living.

"What's left of what they are doing would hurt their results considerably, if not destroy it completely," said John Meringolo, one of Merlino's attorneys at the New York Post.

"If there is no play, there is no main activity," Meringolo told the newspaper.

Kenneth McCallion, a former federal prosecutor who, decades ago, investigated possible links between the mafia and Donald Trump, told the Guardian that in the early '90s, gangsters had hit a crisis of ## 147 ## 39; identity.

"We could have seen from wiretaps or from sources that the organized crime culture was so eroded that some of the members had to watch television or movies to see how the sages had walked and talked," he said. declared. "So, it was a bit of the beginning of the end."

Families who may have been in the crowd have become more and more disinterested in life, forcing bosses to import potential candidates to "strengthen their ranks," he said.

The imprisonment of Merlino may be a blow to what remains of the crowd in Philadelphia.

Historically, when leaders found themselves behind bars, "what triggered it would be a struggle for power within the organization," McCallion told the Guardian.

Judge Richard Sullivan, who sentenced the maximum sentence, said he did not think Merlino was the "boss" of La Cosa Nostra in Philadelphia. At the same time, Sullivan did not accept the arguments of Merlino's lawyers that he was a "degenerate gambler" since the age of 13 and had fallen back into the crime for money.

"You were a player," said Sullivan.

Regardless of Merlino's status in the Philadelphia crowd hierarchy, he still seems to have a considerable influence on his supporters, who have occupied more than half of the audience hall.

"They are all bulls," protested one man in the tribune vigorously when sentencing. "Rat bastard."

"Do you want to talk about me?" Retorted Sullivan, furious. "Do you want to be quiet?"

"Yes, of course," the man said curtly.

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