Charmed

Six weeks after Greene's death, county prosecutors charged seven men in connection with the bombing: Licavoli, who got his start in organized crime as a member of Detroit's infamous "Purple Gang"; Thomas Sinito; Pasquale "Butchie" Cisternino; John Calandra; Alfred "Allie" Calabrese; Angelo "Big Ange" Lonardo, who served as Cleveland's underboss until he testified against his former associates; and Carabbia.

Charges against Calabrese were eventually thrown out, and Calandra did not initially go to trial due to heart surgery. But when the other five men were led into Cuyahoga County Common Pleas Judge James Carroll's courtroom in February 1978, it wasn't just a who's who of Ohio mobsters. It was also a who's who of defense attorneys: Jerry Milano. James Willis. Ralph Sperli. Elmer Giuliani. Leonard Yelsky. And, defending Ronnie Carabbia, 35-year-old Carmen Policy.

"All of these guys, whether they're wiseguys or connected or whatever, their attorneys are good," says Carmen Marino, who tried the state's case in the Greene murder. "You look at the guys who represented the defendants in the Danny Greene case -- there was not a weak attorney among them. And Carmen fit in with the best of them."

It was the longest trial in Cuyahoga County history -- 79 days -- and Policy, young, charming, and cordial, played a starring role.

"He was excellent," Marino says. "He was diligent, almost to a fault. We were in that trial six days a week for three months, and he was always well-prepared. He made an excellent closing argument."

Assistant Cuyahoga County Prosecutor Edward Walsh, who tried the case with Marino, jokes, "My lasting memory of Carmen is that he had a different suit on every day."

Despite Policy's best efforts, the evidence against Carabbia was overwhelming. In addition to Spoth's testimony, Ferritto became a government witness. Protected by 50 law enforcement officials who feared an assassination attempt, Ferritto told a packed courtroom that Carabbia was not only in the car, but he flipped the switch that detonated the remote-controlled bomb. Louis Aratari, another mob hit man, also testified that Carabbia was in Ferritto's car.

Given the evidence, all Policy could do was attack the credibility of the witnesses. Still, he gave a rousing closing argument. In a dual reference to witnesses who placed Carabbia at his son's high school football game at the time of Greene's killing and the criminal histories of Ferritto and Aratari, Policy implored the jury to believe the testimony of "good, honest citizens" over that of "liars and perverts." He said Ferritto was "so devoid of trustfulness, truthfulness, and morality as to be unworthy of consideration."

It was "frightening" for his client "to sit here for three months, knowing you are innocent, and there's little you can do about it." Spoth's testimony about Carabbia being at the bomb site could not be accurate, Policy argued, "because Mr. Carabbia was not there."

Policy summarized by saying: "Ladies and gentlemen, Raymond Ferritto is a hired killer. He has a new contract. He has been hired by the state of Ohio, hired to get Ronnie Carabbia. Don't let yourselves become a party to that contract."

Despite nearly 34 hours of deliberation, the jury did not buy Policy's argument. After waiting more than two hours while Policy rushed to Cleveland from Youngstown, they pronounced Carabbia and Cisternino guilty of aggravated murder and aggravated arson. The pair were acquitted of engaging in organized crime, which led to the acquittals of Licavoli, Lonardo, and Sinito, who were alleged by prosecutors to have orchestrated the bombing.

Both Policy and Carabbia slumped when the verdict was read. While Carabbia -- whom Marino compared to "lice" and "maggots" during the trial -- was later sentenced to life and is still in prison, Policy's future was decidedly brighter. Sure, his client had lost. But Policy had handled himself well. He could wade through the mud and come out unsullied. And there was a lot more mud to wade through in Youngstown.

Selectively Brilliant
For years, the Pittsburgh and Cleveland mob factions had split the action in Youngstown. But the war with Greene had weakened the Cleveland family, leaving an opening for the Pittsburgh mob -- represented in Youngstown by Joey Naples and Jimmy Prato -- to increase its stake in the depressed Rust Belt town.

Charles and Orland Carabbia, Ronnie's older brothers, were responsible for protecting the Cleveland family's turf in Youngstown. When they began to feel the squeeze, they went to James Traficant, who in 1980 was elected sheriff of Mahoning County, a position traditionally dogged by reports of corruption and payoffs. The Carabbias gave Traficant more than $100,000 -- money that Traficant later claimed he accepted so it wouldn't fall into other hands, as part of his own private sting against the mob.

That assertion is a little difficult to believe after listening to conversations secretly recorded by Charles Carabbia, who made the tapes in an effort to gain leverage with Traficant. Policy is mentioned several times on the tapes, which detail a money-laundering scheme going on just a few feet from his office.