Witsec (48 page)

When the program first started, some argued that it was okay to use mob witnesses but that the government shouldn’t assist them by giving them new names and sending them into unaware communities. It should simply give them a sum of money and send them on their way. I’ve always felt this view was unrealistic. No witness is going to testify knowing that he or she will be murdered just before taking the witness stand or just after leaving it. Surely the witness is entitled to some form of protection—as is society. The best thing we could do for society was help this witness to start a new, productive, honest life. As our recidivism studies have shown, by helping a witness through the relocation process we were reducing the chances of his again committing crimes. I also remember that photo album the Bureau of Narcotics prepared early in my career,
which contained eight-by-ten photographs of government informants murdered in the most gruesome ways. I was determined never to see another album like that.

Is WITSEC perfect? Of course not. Have I made mistakes? You bet I have, plenty of them. One of my biggest regrets is that WITSEC was always most difficult for witnesses who were not criminals. Innocent bystanders who simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time paid a heavy price for doing the right thing. I wish there had been some way to make life easier for them.

I felt confident when I left the Justice Department’s Office of Enforcement Operations that WITSEC was in extremely capable hands. Steve T’Kach, who took over my witness protection functions, was providing guidance as to policy. Sallie Saliba, who joined me just out of college, was now running WITSEC day to day and doing an extraordinary job. Cathy Breeden, who had worked with me since 1969, except for a short stint, was handling covert operations. But I soon discovered how fragile even a well-established government program can be. I have always felt that former director Gonzalez was well-meaning when he decided to combine court security with WITSEC, but that proved to be a disaster. When Gonzalez asked me to review the program three years later, I discovered morale was terrible. Old-timers were retiring and the service was finding it difficult to attract new blood.

Gonzalez didn’t like specialists, but being a WITSEC inspector requires special skills—a real knack for dealing with people who are under tremendous stress and who often are not the nicest or easiest people in the world to get along with. Protecting federal judges is clearly one of the Marshals Service’s most important
functions. Consequently, the judges’ needs are going to take priority. When I did my review, I found that after the merger of court security and WITSEC, resources that were supposed to be going to WITSEC were being diverted to meet the needs of the judges. The result was that WITSEC was understaffed. Much of what we accomplished during the years that I oversaw the program was and currently is in jeopardy. Dozens of Marshals Service employees pleaded with me for help. That is the reason I bring the problems up now: as a call to arms of sorts. This program is too important to law enforcement not to give it the support that it so desperately needs—especially now, after the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. Much as the Mafia was, terrorist groups are extremely difficult to penetrate. But WITSEC has proven it can help turn terrorists against each other. The key is demonstrating that we can protect those courageous enough to cooperate. This is another reason why we must restore WITSEC to the way it was before the changes, and give its specialists the resources they need.

The seeds for this book were sown shortly after I retired. Miriam encouraged me to put some of my experiences down on paper so my grandchildren would have the benefit of knowing a little more about their grandfather. I called it “Papa’s Journal.” As I worked, the book began to take on a life of its own, and when Pete joined me, it became more than the recollections of a grandfather.

As I sit here writing these final pages and looking back on my career, I wonder where time has gone. I remember so clearly the first time that I entered the Justice Department and the awe I felt. I recall once reading a saying by St. Francis of Assisi that we have made this book’s epigraph. He wrote, “Start by doing
what’s necessary, then what’s possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” I like that. It seems to fit WITSEC.

I also find myself thinking of my father, Abe. One night when I was a teenager, he took me with him to a tenement building on the Lower East Side where he was attending a community meeting held with members of a local teenage gang. As he was speaking, a gang member suddenly blurted out: “You don’t know what it is like for us growing up here.” My father’s answer surprised me. “I know very much what it’s like here,” he said. “I grew up here. This was my ghetto, too.” He described the poverty, the gangs, the lack of education, the anti-Semitism. Then he spoke about how he had improved himself by working hard during the day and at night studying Shakespeare and music. He said he now owned a business and lived in an apartment in an upscale part of Manhattan. “You can do the same,” he insisted. During the ride home, my father talked to me, as he often did, about how important it was for a person to always remember his roots and to always,
always
, give something back to the community. “You owe a debt to society for what you have been given. You must give something back.”

Dad, I tried.

Gerald Shur, now retired, sitting on the patio rail facing his backyard. (Photograph by Dudley Reed)

A SHUR FAMILY ALBUM

A beaming young Gerry Shur in a policeman’s outfit—his first appearance in law enforcement
.

Ready to audition for the Ted Mack Amateur Hour in 1949: drummer Shur with his boyhood friends, Edward Schwarzer (left) and Bernard Breslin (right). They didn’t make it
.

Miriam and Gerald Shur a few weeks before their secret elopement in 1952. Both were underage, but four months later their parents consented to their marriage
.

The Marshals Service was ordered by President Kennedy to protect black students in the South enrolling in previously all-white schools
.
 (U.S. Marshals Service photo)

WITSEC inspectors protecting a hooded witness. This is a training exercise, so the witness is also a deputy marshal
.
 (U.S. Marshals Service photo)

A witness testifies before Congress behind a screen while WITSEC inspectors stand watch
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 (U.S. Marshals Service photo)

Former mob hitman Joseph “The Animal” Barboza testifying against the New England mob at a congressional committee hearing. A marshal sits on each side, and two more are facing the audience
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Marshal John Partington takes New England crime boss Raymond Patriarca to jail after Barboza’s testimony led to his conviction
.
 (Courtesy of John Partington)

An armed John Partington (right) and another marshal dashing off a helicopter with an unidentified witness hiding his face
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 (U.S. Marshals Service photo)

Reis R. Kash, a deputy U.S. Marshal who became the first chief of WITSEC
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 (Courtesy of Reis Kash)

Former FBI agent William Hall, who inherited a troubled WITSEC program when he became director of the U.S. Marshals Service and brought in Howard Safir from the DEA to turn it around
.
 (Courtesy of Gerald Shur)