...And Never Let HerGo

mall.”
    But the richest Capano soon settled comfortably into the witness chair, and Louie answered Ferris Wharton’s questions easily, often flashing a winning smile. Gerry’s face had been a mask of torment; Louie’s was animated as he agreed that he had testified three times before the federal grand jury, lied twice, and had subsequently pleaded guilty to tampering with a witness.
    “Is there a sentence which the federal government is going to recommend that you receive as a result of entering that guilty plea?” Wharton asked.
    “One year probation.”
    “Do you have any obligations yourself under that plea agreement?”
    “Just to tell the truth.” Louie said he understood that, should he lie, he could be prosecuted for a number of crimes. He was quite prepared to tell the jurors what Tom had told him on Sunday, June 30, 1996.
    “Tom and I went back to the enclosed porch on the back of the house,” Louie said. “And he then told me about his relationship with Anne Marie Fahey.”
    “You were aware of his marital status at that time?”
    “I knew he was separated from his wife, Kay, but I wasn’t aware of any extramarital affairs at all.”
    Louie said he knew Debby MacIntyre because his son, Louis III, had attended the Tatnall School, but he had no idea that Tom had been having an affair with her for years. It seemed incredible that Tom had been able to keep his liaisons with women secret even from his own brother, but Louie had no reason to lie about that now. He testified that Tom told him he was trying to reconcile with Kay and that they were seeing a psychiatrist together in the hope that they could mend their marriage. That was the reason he had had to remove every trace of Anne Marie Fahey from his house, Tom said. He had assured his brother that Anne Marie was a neurotic mess he had simply been trying to help, but then she’d slit her wrists and bled all over his sofa. He told Louie that he and Gerry had disposed of the ruined couch in the Dumpster outside Louie’s office building and asked him if he would have it taken to the refuse station as soon as possible. Louie had believed Tom, and understood his concerns about Kay’s finding out.
    “Now, as of Sunday,” Wharton asked, “Tom told you that the police told him Anne Marie Fahey was missing?”
    “Yes,” Louie said. “He told me that he had given her money and she was planning to take Friday off and that he suspected she was just away for the weekend at the beach and that she would show up on Monday.”
    Louie said he had forgotten all about having the Dumpsters pulled until Tom called urgently Monday morning to remind him. “I said, ‘Sure,’ ” Louie testified, “and I did. I called Chris Nolan, who works for me, and he called Karen Feeney, and Karen called Shaw Taylor, and Shaw Taylor told Dick Armstrong, and Dick told my son, Louis III.”
    Wharton asked Louie if Tom had ever mentioned throwing anything besides the bloody couch in the Dumpsters.
    “Well,” Louie said, “when they were searching the dump, he told me that he had thrown a gun in the Dumpster and that he hoped they found it in the dump because it would prove it had never been shot.”
    Wharton asked Louie why he had lied—twice—to the grand jury.
    “I did that,” Louie said, “because I believed in my brother’s innocence, and anybody who would know my brother, know his reputation, would know that he couldn’t be involved in anything like this. And I love him and try to protect him.”
    But there came a time when Louie had had to decide which of his brothers needed the most help. He testified that sometime in November 1996—after his second grand jury appearance—his kid brother, Gerry, seemed to be in terrible shape. “He cried and told me he took Tom out on the boat,” Louie began. “I was pressing Gerry because I just knew something was going on that I didn’t know about. And Gerry began crying and telling me he had been having nightmares and that he took Tom out on a boat.”
    That was the day that Louie, wearing his Mickey Mouse jacket, had walked up and down Emma Court with Gerry in front of his house. And Gerry had spilled his guts, sobbing as he told Louie about how Tom had disposed of Anne Marie’s body in the ocean. From that point on, Louie said, Gerry had become more and more desperate, ridden with panic and guilt.
    “Did you talk to your brother Thomas,” Wharton asked, “about whether or not you would go in to the police