True-crime number-one best-seller about Salerno crime family boss Johnny Toracio and his protege, Carlo Juliano.

“A lot of people talk about heaven and hell. I know where I’m going. I have a lot of friends down there, and I sent a lot of my enemies there, too. They will all be waiting for me. You can put money on that.” (Johnny Toracio)

“In this life, you grow up with your friends lying, deceiving, stealing, cheating, and manipulating other people, then eventually you turn on each other. There is no honor among thieves. You’re only as good as your last envelope full of cash. Today’s bosses will call you their best friend, but be late with an envelope, and see what happens. It doesn’t matter how much you brought them in the past - even if it was hundreds of thousands of dollars. These days it’s all about greed and money. You can argue greed and money are what drive a legitimate business. However, in business, you don’t fear for your life, and you don’t carry two handguns to protect yourself. I spent many years in the Salerno crime family of New York City, and now I am out. Everything is different now, and my life will never be what it used to be.” (Carlo Juliano)

The life that chose me. My name is Carlo Juliano. It was October 10, 2009. I heard a gunshot and a thud that hit the ground behind me. I turned around and saw my dad on his back with a blank stare. I lost my breath as a cold shudder ran down my spine. In a few minutes, my life changed forever. A mob hit man murdered my dad on a public street in broad daylight. Earlier that year, my mom overdosed on heroin. At 14 years old, I was orphaned and homeless.

In the aftermath, I felt scared, afraid, anxious, rejected, alone, unloved, and depressed. I figured out how to survive by stealing food like candy and bologna at local grocery stores and then eating it at a nearby park on a bench. I slept in unlocked parked cars on neighborhood streets. Every now and then, I woke up in the middle of the night in tears staring at the moon and stars. I wondered, “What happened to my life?”

Two months later, it was a cold, crisp night with light flurries during the holidays. I wandered the streets aimlessly trying to distract myself by looking at decorations in shop windows. I walked past a bar owned by Johnny Toracio several times. He sat at a table inside alone near the front window looking out at the street. He was an important person in the neighborhood. Each time I passed, my grief-stricken eyes met his thoughtful gaze.

A few minutes before midnight, he opened the front door intercepting my path and calmly lit his cigarette. He took a deep drag and squinted his eyes looking intently at me.