Detroit, the 1930s. Uncle Joe was recovering from yet another gangland hit. He had let his younger brother Philly boy take the reins of the family in Corktown while Joe would spend his days tending to his garden and trying to get well. It wasn't the first time Uncle Joe had been attacked and he knew it probably wouldn't be the last. In this life you faced a constant barrage of hurdles. Hurdles that Uncle Joe knew how to jump, he was spry for a 60 year old man. Still had the strength and drive of a young bull.

The most recent attempt on his life and reputation came as quite the shock to him. His own underboss and long time friend Nicolo Licata had started to feel the weight of the "life". Instead of retiring off to the old country like the man's man Uncle Joe had always believed him to be, he would seek to murder and defame his long time compatriot.

Uncle Joe had seen and experienced many highs and lows in the "life" but he had never forseen going through an experience like that. His own friend, someone he had grown up with and confided in countless times. At some point in time Nicolo Licata felt he had one option. To lie and bend his dear old Uncle Joe's words to create an agenda for those he would leave behind in the "life". An agenda built with hate, lies and coercion with city hall officials.

The morining of the attack Uncle Joe was sleeping peacefully in his bed. His faithful dog Conan sleeping downstairs. His friend and Underboss Nicolo took the opportunity to sneak in through a window ever so quietly. He would make his way to Uncle Joes safe and relieve him of a heafty sum of money before making his way upstairs to Joe's bedroom. As Nicolo entered the room he reached in his coat for a knife, his preferred weapon of choice. He crept toward Uncle Joe slowly, trying not to wake him. He knew if he had all bets were off. Uncle Joe wasn't the one to wake up for a knife fight.

As Nicolo came up beside Joe's bed where he laid peacefully, knife drawn. He noticed that Uncle Joe slept on his side, with his back facing him. A sudden jolt of pain ran through Joe's entire body as he was stabbed repeatedly. Each wound going deeper than the last. Nicolo stood over Uncle Joe's bleeding and thriving body having felt successful in eliminating him. Nicolo left as quietly as he came in. 

Before leaving our thing Licata would leave a final message to the world. One that would look to destroy Uncle Joes presence and stance in the criminal underworld. He failed in doing so after a massive investigation by city hall. We wouldn't be seeing him or his kin on our shores for a very long time.

Uncle Joe was rushed to the hospital, the same as always, he was used to the process by now. They did what they could for him to help ease the pain. He was going to make it. The love of his family and friends was all he needed to cling to life that morning. 

Uncle Joe had been reliving the "life" he had led up until this point. This thing of "ours" was very special to him. He thrived in this world and would continue to do so for as long as he lived and carried breath in his lungs and money in his pockets. He was fueled by pride, respect, honor and an unshakable loyalty to those he called friend's and family.

Hearing the man in the streets I can recognize his voice.  It's Uncle Joe and I am elated to see that another attempt on his life has indeed failed.

As Uncle Joe is recovering he is surrounded by his friends and family heavily guarded.

Thinking of the event in which nearly took the life of my Don and the lies of a man who I use to call my friend, a brother who we all would of died for.  I won't even mention his name and should be wiped from the book of records.

Long live the Limgabi Crime Family and its loyal members. 

It seems the Feds got this one right in their investigation and we all know we don't like the Feds but in this case I tip my hat.

The door to my bedroom was rattling on the hinges. One of my body guards was, it seemed, trying his best to break it down. I crawled out of bed and opened the door.

"You better have a DAMN good reason ...."

"Uncle Joe was shot!"

Hearing the words made no sense at first, it took me a few seconds to clean the cobwebs of sleep from my mind.

"Son of a bitch! Round up the boys and get the cars ready. I'll be down in a minute."

As he ran to get shit going, I got dressed as quick as I could and strapped on my two favorite guns. Getting down stairs, I addressed those gathered.

"Don Ligambi was attacked. You ... you and you are coming with me. The rest, get your asses to the hospital. Post up on all the doors. No-one except family goes in .... GOT IT!?"

As fifteen men hustled out the door to protect Joseph, the three with me headed for HQ. I got there as PhilipLigambi was making calls and working hard to keep the crew together. He saw me come in and motioned me to wait a minute. When he finished his call, he sat in the chair behind the desk.

"It's a shit storm Harry. One of our own tried to take out my brother. Glad to have you here."

We spent the next two hours making calls and getting everything in order. Protection where need for family members, others sent to our businesses to watch over them. Carlo-Gambino arrived to help out and I excused myself to get my ass to the hospital to oversee the lock down.

As we arrived, I saw three of my men helping Don Ligambi's men with security at the main entrance. One of my guys came over to me.

"Boss, Uncle Joe's men have things pretty well covered. We are helping where we can. All doors leading into the building have three to five men at each. Don Ligambi is on the third floor ... we have five of our men up there watching as well."

I took in what was said and chucked the man on the shoulder.

"Great job. Get back to the door, I'm going to check on Joseph."

I headed up to the third floor. Guards were everywhere. I sighed a bit with relief as I headed to the room My Don was in. I entered to check on my Boss and friend.