Last Dance, Last Chance

aging to enough people to make them think he was serious. Anthony Pignataro might have an outlandish perception of himself as compared to the rest of society, but he was shrewd and intelligent. If he was free, and if he decided to leave Buffalo and West Seneca behind, he would figure out a plan—one probably financed by his mother, even if she had no idea that he was leaving.
    On January 31, 2000, the net that hung over Anthony began to tighten, although he didn’t know it. He was too focused on trying to convince Debbie to reconcile with him so he could improve his image.
    Anthony’s probation officer, Judith White, wrote out a violation summary, attaching affidavits from Chuck Craven, Arnie Letovich, and Deborah Pignataro. When Judge Ronald Tills sentenced Anthony on August 7, 1998, two important probation conditions were imposed: (1) Anthony was to remain drug and alcohol free, and (2) he was forbidden to leave Erie County without permission of the Court and the probation department.
    He had broken both of those provisos. Arnie Letovich’s affidavit spoke of Anthony’s heroin use and his plans to move far away and open a new medical practice. Debbie’s detailed his alcohol consumption and the unauthorized trip Anthony took to Philadelphia. When he applied for the job at the Veterans’ Hospital, he had taken her and their children with him as props, she realized, to support his “good family man” image. And he’d insisted that the hotel and car rental be charged to her Visa card so that he left no trail.
    But he had left a trail. Chuck Craven had possession of four CDs from Anthony’s computer; one contained Anthony’s letter to the Veterans’ Hospital where he had hoped to get a job. That letter substantiated that he had indeed left Erie County without permission from anyone. It was helpful that Tony Pignataro had dated it.
    The arrest warrant, signed by Judge Tills, went out to “Any Police Officer, Sheriff’s Deputy, or Peace Officer in this State.
    “Whereas ANTHONY PIGNATARO…having violated the conditions of probation, you are commanded forthwith to arrest the above named ANTHONY PIGNATARO and bring this individual before this court for judgement.”
    Anthony was arrested on February 1, 2000, but Lena quickly posted $50,000 bail, so that he spent only one night in jail. When he left jail, however, he wore an electronic ankle bracelet that allowed authorities to monitor his every move.
    On Valentine’s Day, he was back in jail. Still positive that Debbie would never blow the whistle on him, he had called her on February 5, despite a no-contact order by the Court.
    Debbie now had a restraining order to keep Anthony from phoning her. She had finally realized that she didn’t have to see him or talk to him any longer. Anthony knew full well the danger of someone finding out that he’d broken most of the rules of his probation, but he never doubted that Debbie would save him. His calls to her were always choreographed to draw her over to his side, and he’d pulled out all the stops to persuade her that she had to take him back.
    In his second arrest in two weeks, Anthony’s bail was set so high that even Lena Pignataro decided against bailing him out.
    Anthony was terrified of having to finish his five-year term for the death of Sarah Smith. If his probation was revoked, that was very likely to happen. Perhaps he wasn’t really afraid yet of the far more serious charges that might await him.
    Anthony was fairly certain that he could still pull Debbie back to him, but he was losing control. He had always been able to manipulate two women in his life: his mother and his wife. Now he felt his power slipping away, at least with his wife. He was aghast that she had actually reported him for calling her on the phone. The old Debbie would never have betrayed him like that.
    “You hold the cards, Deb,” Anthony had pleaded in his call. “You know I can’t do five years. Can’t I go for shock treatment instead? Can I go to a halfway house? At least, if I’m out of control, my mom will take care of you and the kids. I can’t do it. I’ll die in there if I have to go back to prison.”
    “You know what I thought?” Debbie asked, a long time later. “I thought, ‘Well, I was supposed to be six feet under, so maybe his troubles weren’t as bad as he thought. Maybe he had it coming.’”
     
    The family court hearings continued in the early months of 2000, meeting for a few days here and a