Tom Noble - I, Mick Gatto

A veteran of Melbournes underworld, Mick Gatto is one of the few survivors of Melbournes Gangland Wars. Many of the victims were his long-time friends. Today the former heavyweight boxer runs Elite Cranes, a crane company that employs about sixty people, and Arbitrations and Mediations Pty Ltd, among others.

Tom Noble has been a journalist for more than twenty-five years, working mostly in newspapers. He is the author of the bestselling true crime books Untold Violence, Walsh Street and Neddy.

with TOM NOBLE

Text that appears in square brackets in italics [just like this]throughout this book is written by Tom Noble, and provides background information for Mick Gattos story.

This is the book I never wanted to write. But in the end, I had little choice.

The underworld, by its very definition, is a hidden world. And for most of my life, thats where Ive made my living: out of the spotlight, under the radar, quietly doing my own little thing. But in 2008, the Underbelly television series propelled me into the limelight. I became a household name. I couldnt go out without being stopped in the street and asked for a photograph or autograph.

And with the success of the series, the people behind Underbelly said they were going to make a movie of The Mick Gatto Storywith or without my inputso I knew I had to put pen to paper. I wasnt prepared to let them tell my story from underworld gossip, police files and court transcriptsI wanted it told as it really is.

I have done my best to be as honest as possible. There are some areas where I havent been too specific, for obvious reasons. But beyond that, Ive tried to give an open account of who I am, and how I got to where I am today. Most of the incidents in this book very few people knew aboutuntil now.

I am donating a percentage of my royalties from this book, and any money from a film, to my favourite charity, the Royal Childrens Hospital in Melbourne.

Looking back on my life, I certainly regret a few things I did, particularly when I was younger. If I had my time again there are a lot of things I would change. I definitely would have avoided going to jail and dragging my family through all that heartache. But you cant undo whats done. So here is my story.

Mick Gatto, August 2009

My life changed forever the day I shot dead Australias busiest hit man. It was Tuesday 23 March 2004, and Andrew Benji Veniamin had dropped in at La Porcella restaurant in Carlton for a chat. We were standing in a back room, talking, when I told Andrew that he could no longer be trusted and I didnt want to see him any more.

My most vivid memory of that day is the look on his face. His eyes started spinning in his head and his whole expression changed. He went from Dr Jekyll to Mr Hyde. I couldnt believe it. I thought he was about to throw a punch. But he produced a gun. I dont know where it came fromthe back of his pants, I think. I froze for a moment, then my boxing reflexes saved me as I pushed the gun away. It went boom straight past my head. I was convinced the bullet had hit me, but it hadnt; it just left gunpowder marks on my jacket. The noise was deafening.

I grabbed hold of his arm and turned the gun on him, squeezing his hand on the trigger, forcing him to shoot himself. And I kept squeezing. I had no idea how many shots were fired until much later. It was like one explosion after another, it was such a small room. Then I fell on the ground on top of him. He was gurgling and gasping, and I pulled the gun out of his hand. And as he lay there, blood bubbling out of his mouth, I knew he was gone.

In the months that followed, as I lay awake in my prison cell at night, that vision of him lying gurgling on the ground played over and over in my mind.

My plan that day had been pretty simple. I had to finish painting the garage door at home, meet a few people to talk business over lunch, then visit my cousin Roy at the Royal Melbourne Hospital (he had undergone surgery for cancer of the jaw). And that would be it.

I was running late so asked Charlie, who cleaned the spa at home, to finish the paintwork. I gave him $100. Then I jumped in the car and took off, picked up Ronnie [Ron Bongetti, a long-time gambler in his mid-seventies and a close friend of Gatto]and drove to La Porcella. It had become my office, a place where Id meet builders, businessmen, union officials, friends. Most days I was there. I felt safe, because I was confident that the police had the building under surveillance, which was important. Three months earlier, my close friend Graham Kinniburgh had been shot dead outside his home. Id made it my mission to find out who killed him. Six people had also been shot in the few months before Graham was killed, and word was out that I was next. And so I was carrying a gun again, or making sure one was nearby.

That Tuesday, I had a talk with a few people. There was a Chinese bloke who had some sort of asbestos problem in a building in Collins Street, and he wanted me to talk to the union and limit the cost to fix it. There was a bloke named Geoff, a demolition-wrecker specialist. Hes a rough diamond, been in and out of trouble all his lifedrugs and thingsand a mad punter. He called in to see me about a building dispute, then hung around and had a beer and something to eat. Lunch was fish and salad. It wasnt bad. I used to enjoy the food there. I met quite a few people that day and, luckily, most were too busy to stay for lunch, or they would have been caught up in what happened next.

Id met Andrew Veniamin three or four years earlier. He was introduced to me as a man with a tough reputationthere were rumours he was a paid killer. Andrew was very ambitious, but had become increasingly erratic. Four days earlier hed called me and wed spoken for the first time in a while. Id been trying to talk to him for some weeks, but his phone was always turned off. I wanted to know what he was up to, as he was closely involved with Carl Williams, and I suspected both of being involved in Grahams murder. As they say, you keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

At about 2 p.m., I phoned Andrew and, for the first time in weeks, his phone rang. And he answered.

Are you around, mate? I asked.

Yeah, I am. I can be there soon.

All right, I said. Ill see you.

He rocked up a few minutes later, came in and sat down. I was surprised he got there so quickly. There were six or seven of us around a table having lunch.

After a while, Andrew kicked me under the table and said, I want to have a chat.

Yeah, no worries, I said.

I stood up and started to walk into the streetit was a nice day outsidebut instead Andrew headed to the back of the restaurant.

Id often gone out there for a private conversation, and had been there before with Andrew, so I followed him.

When we got to the back room he turned to me. Look, I keep hearing that you still think I had something to do with Grahams death.

Well, Ive got to be honest, I said, thats what everyones saying.I also thought it myselfhe may not have pulled the trigger, but I strongly suspected that he was somehow involved. I still do.

But I wouldnt do that, he protested. You are a friend of mine, and I wouldnt harm anyone thats a friend of yours.