Bob Halloran - Impact Statement: A Familys Fight for Justice against Whitey Bulger, Stephen Flemmi, and the FBI

This book is dedicated to the memory of my sister,
Debbie Davisalways loved, never forgotten.

STEVE DAVIS

Copyright 2013 by Bob Halloran

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

ISBN: 978-1-62873-493-5

Printed in the United States

INTRODUCTION

In this book youre going to meet a man named Steve Davis. Hopefully your experience is better than the one I had the first time I met him. With his gravelly voice, he invited me to sit down at his kitchen table, and even with his gracious manner and his offer of an assorted cheese platter, I felt a little intimidated. Steve is a sweetheart of a guy, but he likes to hide that fact for as long as possible. Perhaps its because he doesnt trust people and has trouble calling anyone his friend. But those walls eventually came down between us, and now hes my friendthe kind who likes to drop by unannounced, either to bring me something (like a large fresh tuna a guy he knows caught), or to use the bathroom on his way to somewhere else.

That first introduction I had with Steve was his attempt to size me up as the potential author of this book. I have no idea what he was looking for. Compatibility, most likely. He certainly didnt ask for any writing samples, or check out my resume, but by the time the cheese platter had settled into the pits of our stomachs, we were partners.

I told Steve my goal was to write a vastly different kind of Whitey Bulger book, one that connected readers emotionally to a single, sympathetic character. Instead of focusing on a multitude of crimes that were both horrific and fascinating, I would tell the story of an innocent, young woman whose life was tragically taken away. Steves sister Debbie would be my protagonist. Her story would be the fulcrum to the rest of the Whitey Bulger story. But as I was writing, a funny thing happened along the way; another sympathetic character began to materialize. And it was Steve Davis.

As I learned more about his story, the book began to develop a dual focus. Steve and Debbie were very close as children. They protected each other from an extremely abusive father. They both left their home as teenagersSteve when he was thrown out at age fifteen and Debbie when she married at age sixteen. Steve sold drugs to survive. Debbie divorced and became Steve Flemmis prized trophy. And when Debbie mysteriously disappeared, Steve Davis embarked upon the fight of his life, and its likely to be a fight for the rest of his life. Personally, I hope he gives it up so that his anger will finally subside, and he can concentrate on all the love he has for his friends and his family.

In the early stages of writing, I referred to him as Every Day Steve because he called every day with a different idea or story for the book. Sometimes I happily wrote them down; usually though, I just pretended to. But the nickname Every Day Steve eventually became a compliment with the highest respect. That guy was in the courtroom every day, all day, all summer long! He didnt do it for the attention, or for money. He did it because the best fighters never skip a day of training. Their dedication is evident every day.

A good portion of this book was written before Whitey Bulgers trial began in June 2013. Structurally, it breaks down into three parts. First, theres the backstory of the Davis family, and theyre a wild bunch, to say the least. Then theres the discovery of Debbies body, which intensified the familys fight for justice through the courts. And finally, theres Bulgers trial, which Steve and I attended every day and discussed every night.

It was an untitled manuscript until the day Steve and I drove to the courthouse together for the sentencing of Bulgers girlfriend, Catherine Greig, in May 2013. Steve was scheduled to deliver a victim impact statement, which is when a victims family member is allowed to address the court to explain how his or her life has been impacted by the guilty partys crime. By then I knew the Davises suspected Flemmi and Bulger for the deaths of their father, Eddie, a brother named Ronnie, and two sisters, Debbie and Michelle. The light bulb switched on, and Impact Statement was born.

CHAPTER ONE

Meeting at Triple Os

Steve Davis heard the question clearly. It was spoken softly, but firmly and uncomfortably close to his ear. In his mind he could hear the question repeated again and again, growing in volume each time. But he didnt respond. He was fixated on the .357 Magnum on the desk in front of him, and the body bag on the floor.

Why had he left his gun in the car?

His eyes darted from the gun to the body bag as he felt the warmth of a hand on the back of his neck, the fingers squeezing with surprising force. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the room, and the question lingered, suspended in the air. Steve considered a series of responses, but the courage required to utter a single syllable momentarily escaped him. The drug dealing, street-tough wiseass was smart enough to know this was the time for a measured reply, or none at all. Before he spoke, the question came firing at him even more forcefully.

Whats your life worth?

The first time Whitey Bulger asked him the question there was a convivial tone that conveyed genuine curiosity, as if he really wanted to know what value the twenty-something-year-old kid placed on his life. But Whitey Bulger didnt like to repeat himself, and the second time he asked, he bellowed, and there was more than a hint of intimidation. He thought the gun and the body bag would have been enough, but if this punk didnt even show him enough respect to answer a goddamn question then things would have to get rough. Bulgers reputation as a stone-cold killer was well earned, and it was well-known by Steve Davis, who had the misfortune of being called on this day to answer to Whitey.

Davis had never pondered what his life was worth, and he still wasnt giving it much thought now. Instead, his mind kept repeating: Why the fuck did I leave my gun in the car?

Just a few minutes earlier, Bulger had been peering out the window of Triple Os, a popular neighborhood bar in South Boston. He pulled back a curtain and saw a relatively new 1979 red Camaro pull up with Davis in the passenger seat. Bulger liked his prey to be on time, and he smiled just a little.

Satisfied, Bulger calmly turned and made his way to the office on the second floor. It was eleven oclock in the morning, and Triple Os was nearly empty. Bulger, Steve Flemmi, Kevin Weeks, and a short, ugly bartender were the only people in the bar. In a few hours, the place would be filled with men and women from the neighborhood, regulars who sat on the stools, drinking their paychecks away night after night, wondering if the word on the street was accurate and that Bulger really did have bodies buried right below them in the basement.

Send him up, was all Bulger said.

Weeks, the bars bouncer and Bulgers muscle, nodded to Flemmi. Neither man spoke, but each of them wondered how this one was going to play out. They knew that would be entirely up to Steve Davis, the prey who remained in the sports car outside.