Debbie had always been able to count on Lena Pignataro. Sometimes Lena was angry with Anthony, but her grandchildren or Debbie could call her for anything. “She used to say to me, ‘Debbie, I’m always here if you need me. It takes me seven minutes from my house to get there,’ and she was always there when I needed her—always in seven minutes.
“Even when I found out about Tami, Lena was right there on my side. She was absolutely furious with Anthony.”
Debbie’s mother, Caroline, agreed, but with just a little sniff at Lena’s failings as a cook—something Caroline excelled at. “Lena was a terrific grandmother,” Caroline said. “Before the poisoning, she was on Debbie’s side. But she couldn’t cook. The kids always came home to eat because Lena only cooked things like hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. Dr. Ralph used to cook, and he was good. He would cook veal cutlets. They were his speciality.”
Ralph and Lauren loved their grandmother Lena. But now she was out of their lives, too. Apparently, she had dropped them for her own reasons. She was standing by Anthony. Her maternal support was fiercely protective of him, and that was odd because no one had even accused Anthony out loud. There was no reason at this point for her to make any decision about whose side she was on. Anthony and Debbie saw each other every day, and Debbie had yet to say an accusatory word about him.
“I don’t know what Anthony told her about me,” Debbie said later. “It must have been something terrible for her to just walk out of my life like that. And for her to drop her grandchildren that she had always adored—that was hard to take.”
20
If Anthony thought the Erie County District Attorney’s office had forgotten about him, he was mistaken. Arsenic poisoning is an unusual crime, and the investigators needed direct physical evidence and even more circumstantial evidence to be sure that they had a case so defense-attorney–proof that nothing or no one could disassemble it. Frank Sedita knew where Anthony was, and he was still on probation, so he couldn’t leave the area without being arrested. They monitored his movements, although he didn’t know it, and they kept building their case.
One remarkable piece of good luck came into Sedita’s office on August 30: a possible witness who, if he was telling the truth, would be worth pure gold. However, he was a jailhouse witness, and such people have been known to snitch and even make up stories to work out a plea bargain. Snitches are not preferred witnesses for either the prosecution or the defense, but Frank Sedita was willing to listen to what he had to say.
The man, Arnie Letovich, had contacted Captain Florian Jablonski and Detective Edward Tyszka of the West Seneca Police Department when he read about the poisoning of Debbie Pignataro in the Sunday Buffalo News. While most readers of the Buffalo News were shocked by the story, Letovich said it hadn’t been very surprising to him. He knew Tony Pignataro, and now he wanted to talk about him.
At 2 P.M. that Monday afternoon, Frank Sedita, Chuck Craven, and Pat Finnerty, along with the two West Seneca officers, met with Letovich. Arnie Letovich was in custody, but only for two pending misdemeanors involving drugs. He wasn’t looking at any hard time, and he might very well have the charges against him dismissed. He didn’t have any particular reason to talk to the D.A.’s men except for his conscience.
Letovich was in his mid-forties, but he looked a little older. He seemed anxious to talk about Tony Pignataro, although Sedita informed him that no deals would be made in exchange for information. All Sedita could promise Arnie Letovich was that he would be given immunity for the information actually conveyed in this interview.
Letovich nodded that he understood. He began by explaining that he and Tony had been housed together in the Erie County Correctional Facility from some time in August 1998 until October of that year. One of the corrections officers had asked Letovich to keep an eye on Pignataro, because as a totally green prisoner he was in danger of being abused by other convicts.
Letovich said that while Tony was in jail, he had used both alcohol and heroin. That wasn’t any shock to the D.A.’s men; there were always avenues for convicts to smuggle in both drugs and booze. Some with a bent toward chemistry even made their own alcoholic drink inside. Called Pruno, it was a noxious concoction of whatever could be gleaned from the kitchen: potato peelings or fruit or vegetables that were allowed to ferment. It tasted vile, but for serious drinkers, it was better than nothing.
As far as the investigators knew, Pignataro was a long-time drinker, and probably a user of prescription drugs, which he had been in a position to obtain quite easily, but they had never heard that he was a heroin addict. According to Letovich, that was a new habit Tony had picked up during his few months of incarceration.
Letovich said frankly that he had used heroin in the past and still did. He made no attempt to paint himself as any saintlier than he was. He had gotten along all right with Tony in jail, and Tony had told him he wanted to continue their friendship outside the walls. Tony had given Arnie his pager number.
Chuck Craven knew Pignataro’s pager number: 555-3599. He asked Letovich what it was, and the convict gave it back to Craven instantly: “555-3599.”
Letovich said he had been released from jail first, and he thought that Tony had been released on about December 2. He called Letovich soon after, and came over to his house, using the address he’d saved.
Tony Pignataro had had a woman with him. Her name was Tami, and Letovich said she was a rather attractive woman in her forties, with a very good figure. She looked as if she worked out a lot at a gym.
Tony’s reason for visiting Letovich so soon after his release was immediately obvious. He wanted Letovich to “cop” some heroin for him, and Letovich had agreed to do that.
Craven nodded. He knew from his days in narcotics that there was a whole different language out there on the street. If he didn’t know the right phrases, no “narc” could ever hope to fool the dealers, and might wind up a dead man. Craven had come close himself back in Arizona.
On Tony’s first visit to Arnie’s home, Letovich’s girlfriend had been present. According to the witness, he, Tony, and both women had injected heroin in his house.
From the details he told Sedita and the D.A.’s investigators, it was clear that Letovich did know Tony Pignataro, and quite well. He knew that Tony had gone to medical school in Puerto Rico, that he was fluent in Spanish, and that he drove a black Cadillac Catera. Letovich said that Tony’s father was a surgeon who had died.
From their initial meeting to inject heroin, Letovich said he had copped heroin for Tony over the next several months. Tony told him that he kept an apartment but that he had to move back in with his wife to make a good impression on Judge Tills so his probation rules would be modified. He wanted to leave New York State. His plans were to move to Florida and then eventually to Puerto Rico or the Caribbean, where he could start a medical practice.
What seemed to be eating at Arnie Letovich were two discussions he had had with Tony Pignataro beginning in May 1999. First, Tony confided in him that some guy was interested in Tami but was “screwing her legally.” Tony apparently intended to get back at the man, but Letovich couldn’t remember the other man’s name. He thought Tony had mentioned that the guy had some connection with the D.A.’s office or law enforcement.
Letovich wasn’t sure what Tami’s other boyfriend’s job was. But Tony wanted to get rid of someone. He was asking where he could get some poison. The only poisons Letovich had ever heard of were cyanide and arsenic, and he had no idea where to find something like that.
In June, Letovich said, Tony brought up the subject of poison again, but this time it was in a conversation about Debbie Pignataro. Tony complained about his wife. Evidently, she was always checking on him, and he told Letovich that it was driving him crazy because she paged him constantly.
Letovich looked down at his hands and sighed. He said he couldn’t believe that Tony would actually harm his own wife. But he was insisting that she had to go. He planned to give her a “little bit??
? at a time, and Letovich assumed that he meant a little bit of poison.
Everyone in the room knew what the phrase “She has got to go” meant. Tony’s statements about getting rid of his wife coincided with the time that Debbie Pignataro had first become ill. They knew now that in June, Debbie was suffering from chronic arsenic poisoning. That fit with Tony’s statement about giving it to her a little bit at a time.
It looked as though Anthony had become impatient two months later and given Debbie a massive dose of poisoning.
Arnie Letovich had made some bad decisions in his life, and he was an admitted heroin addict. He was not, however, a killer. Now, he promised to do anything he could to stop Tony Pignataro from ever hurting anyone again. After that first meeting, he visited the District Attorney’s office at least once a week.
Letovich said that when he was on the street, he and Tony had usually connected through Tony’s pager. When Chuck Craven got a copy of phone records that listed calls made to Tony’s pager, that information matched.
In order to assure themselves that Arnie Letovich wasn’t exaggerating his position as a close companion of Tony Pignataro, Frank Sedita and the D.A.’s investigators pored through thousands of pages of financial records, telephone bills, and jail and hospital documents. It took a long time, but every detail of Letovich’s story was verified.
Letovich said that he had gone to Mercy Hospital to meet with Pignataro sometime in the second week of July. He was sure that it was a Friday, and that would have been July 9. He said he’d paged Tony at the hospital and then gone over there, but Tony had already left. They had met up later—about 5 P.M.—when Tony copped more heroin.
Anthony Pignataro had apparently had an insatiable appetite for heroin. Letovich said he copped heroin for him after they met at the Lafayette Hotel near the Buffalo Public Library. He had kept a running record of their exchanges. Letovich said he had provided heroin to Pignataro on July 21, July 24, July 28, and July 29. On the last day, he’d copped a ten-bag bundle for him.
Tony had told Letovich he was going out of town on a trip after that.
The only thing Letovich wanted in return for his cooperation in prosecuting Tony Pignataro was some help getting into a long-term drug rehab program. He no longer wanted to live the kind of life he had been living. The men observing him had heard that song and dance before from dozens of suspects and convicts, and they had reason to doubt. Only time would tell.
On September 1, 1999, Frank Sedita interviewed Tami Maxell and her attorney in his office while Chuck Craven and Pat Finnerty observed and listened. Tami’s attorney asked for immunity for his client for any information she might divulge in this meeting.
Tami was a striking woman, although a little nervous as she recalled her relationship with Anthony Pignataro. She said they’d met sometime in March 1997 at Gold’s Gym, where they both worked out. They got to know each other a little better when he showed her some rental space in a building near his Center Street office in West Seneca. By May, they had begun a physical affair.
Tami knew that Anthony was married, but that hadn’t interfered with their mutual attraction, and they had dated until Anthony went to jail in August 1998. They hadn’t really broken up, but while Anthony was locked up, Tami dated an attorney who worked in the probation department for three months, beginning the month Anthony went away. That relationship turned ugly, she said, and sometime in early December, Tami said she had filed a domestic violence report against Sam Picone, the attorney.
Interestingly, Tami’s relationship with Picone ended a day or two after Anthony got out of jail. She saw Anthony again at Gold’s Gym, where a group of people they all knew worked out together. Anthony gave her his pager number, although she understood that he was living with his wife.
But he wasn’t working very hard on his marriage: Tami said that she and Anthony had resumed their affair in either February or March. Soon after, Anthony left his wife and moved into an apartment on Center Road.
Tami didn’t appear to be much more faithful to romantic partners than Anthony was. On March 26, she had become engaged to yet another man. However, she continued to see Anthony three or four times a week.
Tami said that she had been confronted by an angry Debbie Pignataro in March. Debbie had a copy of a letter Anthony had written to Tami while he was in jail. Sam Picone had taken it without Tami’s knowledge, and, of course, sent it to Debbie.
Debbie had begun to call Tami often, asking questions. Although Tami insisted that she wasn’t having an affair with Debbie’s husband, Debbie didn’t believe her. Perhaps she wasn’t sleeping with Anthony in March; it was difficult to chart when Tami and Anthony were together and when they weren’t.
Tami said that Debbie had called her as recently as July, still suspicious that she and Anthony were seeing each other. Again, Tami had lied and said she was not involved with him.
Frank Sedita asked Tami about the last time she had been with Tony Pignataro. She guessed that it was in the first half of July. He had come to her house.
Tami said Anthony had confided in her that he was struggling with the court system, trying desperately to get his probation moved to Florida. He had it all planned out. His mother had a vacation house there where he could live, and his brothers owned several Dairy Queen franchises. Anthony had assured Tami that he would reestablish his medical practice in either Mexico or Puerto Rico.
Tami said they had talked about a future together, and in the beginning, Anthony had seemed quite untroubled about leaving his children with his wife after a divorce. But, gradually, Anthony had begun his familiar refrain about how unstable Debbie was. He said she was addicted to painkillers and that he was frightened for his children. How could he leave them with her?
He said Debbie was “unresponsive” to the children and that she was “bloating up” and going to several doctors. He told Tami of his wife’s overdose but assured her that he had no further worries about her committing suicide. None of the doctors could diagnose what was wrong with Debbie, Anthony told her, but he felt it was pancreatitis, which she had inherited from her father.
Anthony himself, Tami said, was deeply committed to fitness and good nutrition and had dreams of opening an anti-aging clinic in Florida. Still, Tami said she hadn’t been anxious to throw her lot in with Anthony. He had called her at either the end of July or the first part of August, leaving a message that he really needed to talk to find out what was going on in her life. He had been very resistant to ending their relationship.
Tami mentioned a sentimental card he sent her in mid-August, proclaiming his need for her and wondering why she wouldn’t come back to him.
Tami left the interview with the investigators, but she was back in about ten minutes. She admitted that she hadn’t told them everything. Either her attorney or her conscience had become so insistent that she had to tell them the whole truth. She now recalled an incident that occurred after Anthony got out of prison. She had gone with him to a house on Washington to get some heroin. She gave Arnie’s name and recalled that his girlfriend was there, too. She watched as Anthony injected himself with heroin there. She was under the impression that he was also using Darvocet, a painkiller.
Tami Maxell had just confirmed what Arnie Letovich had told them. It looked as though Tony Pignataro was so confident that he never thought anyone would betray him. Not his prison buddy/drug procurer or his mistress or his family—and certainly not his long-suffering wife. He seemed to think he was completely bulletproof.
He was wrong.
21
Debbie had been the complete wife, putting Anthony’s wishes first, but she had always had friends on the long street where she lived, the neighborhood where her father-in-law and his lifelong friend had carved a small housing development out of a field. During the long summer just past, her friends had seen her health fail until many of them feared for her life. She had looked so pale and bloated as Anthony drove her away that most of them didn’t expect her to come home
from the hospital. As much as they hated to accept it, they thought she was dying.
At first, they had felt so helpless. Most of them were housewives, ill-equipped to confront Anthony with outright accusations. How do you say to your neighbor, “I think you must be killing your wife, and I want you to stop?”
Rose Gardner had come close to that, but in the end she walked away defeated. She sobbed in her husband’s arms that Debbie was dying, and she didn’t know how to save her.
Although she was deathly ill, Debbie didn’t die. Debbie had recovered enough by the end of August to be moved to a rehab wing. She had been in the intensive care unit for almost four weeks when her doctors moved her to the rehabilitation floor. She needed a wheelchair, and she had braces on her legs. She had no balance at all and could do virtually nothing for herself. Her recovery wasn’t a steady progression toward health. There were setbacks.
Although the move apparently wasn’t responsible for the change in her condition, Debbie suddenly had trouble breathing. She was whisked to the cardiac care unit when her oxygen saturation point tested much too low. Her doctor told her that he would need to do a tracheotomy and insert a tube in her throat if her inability to draw in oxygen stayed so low.
“I immediately refused,” Debbie recalled. “I didn’t want to be kept alive by a machine. I fought so hard because my children needed me, and somehow I managed to breathe more deeply without any machine.”
No one could tell Debbie whether she might ever walk again. She still couldn’t feed herself, dress herself, bathe, curl her hair, put on makeup, or brush Lauren’s hair. “I couldn’t even turn over in bed. I couldn’t move my legs or my arms or my hands.”