Family Man

The defense lawyers hammered relentlessly at the credibility of the informants, and vilified prosecutors for raising the possibility that these miscreants might soon walk the streets. "My advice: Be careful who you argue with over a parking space some day," Lichtman told the jury.

The most glaring weakness in the government's case, surprisingly, wasn't the former Gambinos. It was Curtis Sliwa, who arrived in court with a posse of satin-jacketed Guardian Angels in tow, ready for a face-off he'd been boasting about on his WABC radio show for years.

He came to describe the ordeal of June 19, 1992, when he flagged a taxi on his way to work. A few blocks into the ride, up from the front passenger seat popped a guy with a mask and a hat who shot Sliwa several times in the stomach. Sliwa escaped by hurling himself out a window.

The government says Junior ordered that attack -- which for complicated legal reasons was labeled a kidnapping at the trial -- and that co-defendant Yannotti pulled the trigger. This, at any rate, is the version of events offered by Michael "Mikey Scars" DiLeonardo, another of the Gambino defectors to testify at the trial.

When the defense had a chance to cross-examine Sliwa, he admitted that during his early days, he'd perpetrated a few hoaxes to publicize the Angels, but added that his hoax days were behind him. The more he talked, though, the clearer it seemed that he had a very casual relationship with the truth and no real idea who'd shot him. His description of the assailant, when he first spoke to police, bore little resemblance to Yannotti. Presented with some perp photos at the time, he said he was "nine out of ten" sure that he'd been shot by a man named Steven Kaplan.

Worse, Sliwa seemed to fib almost nonstop on the stand. Initially, he said his speaking fee was $1,000 to $5,000. A few questions later, that figure stood at $25,000. One of the stories he tells when he gives those speeches sounds suspiciously like a fable. It concerns a dollar coin given to him by the late Hasidic leader Rabbi Schneerson. It was the only thing, Sliwa claims, that wasn't covered in blood the morning he was shot. What are the odds?

Those bullets, he grudgingly admitted on the stand, had been bad for his gut but pretty good for business, raising his profile and landing him some lucrative speaking gigs.

By the time he left, Sliwa had shed the mantle of victimhood. He just seemed like an opportunist.

Family Matters

Which, come to think of it, might describe John Gotti. Or it might not. Little aside from his "I didn't do it" was heard from the man at the center of this trial. He decided at the very last minute, just as the defense wrapped its case, that he wouldn't take the stand, leaving it to Lichtman to explain the peculiar and tragic trajectory of his life.

"Sometimes a son will do anything just to be around his father, accepted by him," Lichtman told the jury. "When your father is John Gotti, the flamboyant Mafia boss that everyone wants to be around, the oversized personality everyone wants to touch, it is even harder to get a minute with him."

So, Junior signed up to get some quality time with a parent. Very few sentiments are heartwarming and appalling at the same time, but this one, if true, pulls it off. Whether he sells this version of growing up Gotti to the jury -- and that's a monumental if -- Junior won't exactly be free. His Family will decide whether he can join his family. And that verdict won't be read in court.