DETROIT FREE PRESS
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Alleged Mafia Princess Held in Jamaican Prison, Denied Bail

By: Harold White, Staff Writer

Montego Bay, Jamaica   Immaculately dressed in freshly pressed gray suit and neatly coiffed hair, Isabella Luciano, primary shareholder in the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railway (which our readers will recall runs from New York  to Cleveland & Detroit & onto Chicago), looked more like a Hollywood-Starlet than a Murderous-Mobster while she was presented in the Jamaican first circuit court today surrounded by no less than three of America’s top lawyers.  

Here she was officially read the charges on which she stands accused & for which the United States FBN is demanding immediate extradition: Vandalizing public utilities, breaking & entering, one count of kidnapping, one count of attempted murder and seven counts of first degree murder.

Ms. Luciano was on a week-long holiday in Montego Bay, when she was arrested at the Sands Hotel-Casino Resort for the recent murder of seven FBN agents in suburban Detroit.  A variety of eye-witnesses claim her arrest was excessively violent resulting in the hospitalization of several American FBN Agents who handled the capture, as opposed to local Jamaican authorities.

Injured in the ensuing scuffle was one man in Ms. Luciano’s employ.  Mr. Neil Andrews of Warren, Michigan, age 24. Mr. Andrews is recovering in the Jamaican hospital under the watchful eye of Jamaican police.  He is currently under arrest for assaulting officers of the law. His condition is now listed as stable and he will soon be moved to a local jail.

Authorities also seek information on the whereabouts of one of Ms. Luciano's associates who was not detained.  He is believed to still be somewhere in Jamaica. The man is extremely dangerous, 5'10, approximately 170-180 pounds, with blue eyes, and brown hair.

The American Press Corps clamored to get a quote from the Italian-American beauty as she was escorted by ten armed guards from the courthouse to a vehicle bound for the Jamaican Prison System.  Men and women alike pushed to get nearer to the charming woman who was all jokes, laughs, and a bright-red-lipstick smile - declaring over the cacophony of voices,

"These fine officers of the law are just doing their job boys, don't give them a hard time!  Trust that I will be just fine in whatever god-forsaken cell they shove me. I’m a tough broad.  Look, I am confident that my good name will be cleared very soon and these gentlemen will be making their very public apologizes to me and to my parents, of whom they’ve said dreadful things!  Until then, I'm a good citizen, and I'll do as I always do - I’ll obey the law."

When asked about the general living conditions, food and water provided to Ms. Luciano while in the Jamaican jails (which have been known for their substandard and often dangerous conditions) Harold Menkle, Head of the FBN’s Detroit office comments to reporters: “Ms. Luciano will be treated with respect & will not be denied food and water.  However, make no mistake in thinking Ms. Luciano is something other than what she is - a hardened Mafia Don with the dried blood of innocent men on her hands.  This is a woman who led a small army into a suburban Detroit community and gunned down a family man in his own home. She will be brought to justice. I am as committed to this, as was my late brother in arms, Agent Garrett & his six subordinates.  May they rest in peace.”

When asked about how strong his agency’s case was against Ms. Luciano, Menkle replied, “Ms. Luciano has been implicated in these crimes by one of her own - someone very high up in the Detroit Mafia.  We feel our witness’ testimony will be enough for Ms. Luciano to go away for the rest of her natural life.”

When asked about who the FBN had found that would have the courage to testify against an alleged Don within the very difficult to prosecute Luciano-Lucania Crime Empire, Menkle remarked, “For the safety of our witness, we have no comment as to his identity at this time.  Suffice to say, his input will be unquestionable by even the most skeptical of minds. This is the beginning of the end for the Luciano-Lucania Crime Families, mark my words.”

True to Menkle’s word, at the time of this paper’s printing, a second arrest was made of allegedly associated Mafia Boss Jewel of Detroit.  She is being charged with racketeering, human trafficking, possession of illegal firearms, distribution of drugs and alcohol.

Jewel remains in the custody of the Detroit correctional system.  There is no comment from Jewel or her lawyers as of yet, but rest assured, our reporters are working hard to keep our readers up to date on the latest.  

"Uh...yes of course...right away...yes I know the combination...that much?... sorry, whatever you say Marie... alright, bye."

Lordian sighed heavily as he flung the paper across the room. The main article was all he needed to concern himself with, well that and the fact that the White Sox had lost three out of their four against the Red Sox and now had to come home to face a powerhouse Yankees team with that bum Lyons pitching.

"Shit. Of all the people to get snatched up, it had to one of the pretty ones. The papers love a picture of a pretty girl, and sure as the sun rises Isabella-Luciano was one of the pretty ones."

He shook his head and made his way down the hall to the safe. He threw in the combination and took out half a million dollars. It would be enough for now. He had a few stops to make, a phone call or two, and two planes to catch. First and foremost, he had to stop at the press outlet and grease a scummy editors palms.

"You know..." He began as he left his office. He wasn't talking to anyone in particular, but he knew at least one bodyguard would be following, so they would be forced to listen. "I've worked with lawyers, and bankers. I've worked with mobsters, and shakedown artists. I'm used to these people. We are good people. We tell you what we want, and you know what we can do to you if you don't comply. But these editors? You never know what kinda thing they are after, and you never know who they've been talking to. Pains in the ass, every one of em."

He got in the car and only a few moments of weaving through Detroit traffic later he found himself sitting in the editors office handing over a brown envelope. It contained 50 grand. That would shut the press up, or at least calm them down a bit and keep some of the names out of the damned paper. Nothing he could do for Isabella or Jewel at this point, but the rest of the family could keep their noses clean.

He left feeling confident and got back in his car.

"Jim, get me to the airport fast as you can, and in one piece. If I don't get there in less than 15 minutes, I swear to god I'm gonna find myself a new driver."

The kids eyes went wide, but the car lurched forward and he was tossed around the backseat like a loose quarter.

"They really ought to invent some kind of contraption to keep you in place." He mused as they pulled up to the tarmac and he gathered up his briefcase. He got out and handed it over to the bag man waiting outside the plane. "That's for the lawyers. I don't know who the Luciano's sent down there, but this bit is from Marie to help with operational fees." Any good bag man would know 'operational fees' meant something very simple. It meant, we don't want the money back, so long as the problem goes away, and we don't want to know what you used it on. They could use it for the lawyers, for hired help, for bribes to the cops to leave a certain cell open by accident. Whatever worked best and quietest.

Now he had to go find his friend Freddie from the FBN and learn what he could about this unknown source the papers talked about.

There never seemed to be enough time in the day anymore. Still, it never hurt to flip through the papers and at least take in the headlines. Sometimes you could spot an opportunity or catch a problem before it had completely been realized. Today found William Bowden flipping through papers he'd had sent to him from around the country to keep an eye on business interests out of town. Nothing much had caught his eye until he thumbed over to the Detroit Free Press. For a moment he blinked and looked at the headline as it if might fade out like some kind of prank, but as he read on he realized it was completely legitimate. Isabella in a Jamaican prison? But she was going out of country with...

Authorities also seek information on the whereabouts of one of Ms. Luciano's associates who was not detained.  He is believed to still be somewhere in Jamaica. The man is extremely dangerous, 5'10, approximately 170-180 pounds, with blue eyes, and brown hair.

Gavin.

He'd let the authorities catch her before they caught him. Knowing what he'd done in Detroit William couldn't imagine that Gavin had had a choice. If he weren't so worried about what was happening to Isabella, William would probably relish the thought that his smug grin had been wiped off his face.

Instead, with the threat of a high ranking rat from Detroit in his head, he couldn't help but worry about his own fledgling family. After all, he'd been a part of that "small army" that shot Agent Garrett down in his home and was a direct business partner of the arrested party. If connections were followed it would be a threat to all that he was working to build. He'd have to offer what support he could to get this mess sorted out, regardless of the message he'd received from Lushie on Isabella's behalf. At least now that damned message made some sense.

"KINZIE!" William waited for the woman's head to pop around the side of the manager's door at Dante's before he continued, "I need you to find your brother so he can take a message to Detroit. Tell him to go to the Ivory Tower, I'll give you the address, and let them know that they have friends in this time of need. Tell them that the road out of hell leads through Purgatory. They'll know what it means." He quickly scribbled down the address to the lighthouse and sent her on her way.

Once she was out and the door was closed William took a deep breath and opened his desk drawer, looking at the framed peanut bag inside. He knew that he could ride this out and let her face this on her own. In time he might even convince himself he'd be justified. Jumping to try to help her face danger at first instinct was like picking at a scab on his wounded heart. It would only keep the wound open longer and keep him hurting.

But William wasn't ready to give up. Not in the least.