Author Orlando (Ori) Spado honestly recants his humble beginnings from the small town of Rome in upstate New York to becoming known as The Mob Boss of Hollywood. A candid account documenting his fall from a well-known Hollywood fixer mixing with A list celebrities to serving 62 months in Federal prison, and ultimately making a determined comeback.
From The Book:
A voice hollered, “Orlando Spado, this is the FBI. Open the door or we’ll break it in!”
I opened the door holding a cigarette between my fingers. An agent knocked it out of my hand and onto the floor, and then he put the cuffs on me.
The noise woke up my son Anthony, who was living with me. When he came out of his bedroom to see what was going on, they cuffed him, too. When I saw that I wanted to cry, because whatever they wanted me for had nothing to do with him. One of the agents explained that handcuffing Anthony was simply a safety measure, which made me feel a little better.
“Do we have permission to conduct a search of the premises?” one of the agents asked.
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Then you can’t search. By the way, if I’m under arrest, what’s the charge?”
“You’re charged with conspiracy to distribute cocaine.”
I laughed. “I’ll be out by dinner.”
Little did I know I wouldn’t breathe free air again for five years, and it would also be that long before I had my next cigarette.
To my surprise, when they took me down the elevator and out to the street, I counted a total of twenty-seven officers and agents from the FBI, LAPD and the Beverly Hills Police Department. It was quite a show of force to take a sixty-three-year-old man into custody.
An agent opened the trunk of one of their cars and took out leg irons and chains. As I was being hooked up, I recalled nearly twelve years earlier when an agent Scott Gariola told me he’d see the day I’d be arrested, shackled, put on a Con Air and flown to Brooklyn. That same agent was there that morning, watching. As I was being shackled and chained, I asked the agent where is my buddy Scott Gariola, he said he wanted to come but was busy, but down the street in the middle of the road was a white SUV and I knew it was Scott getting his rocks off as he did tell me he would see the day. I didn’t know at that moment how much trouble I was in, but my prediction that I’d be home for dinner suddenly seemed less certain.