War Against the Mafia

doctor would not let him work for a while. We pinched pennies and got through okay on the sickness benefits and Pop is back to work now and everything looks bright. Of course a few bills piled up but we'll catch up okay. Cindy had already decided to work a year before starting college, and I guess that's what bothered Pop the most-Cindy's education. He has always felt bad about not seeing you through college, you know. But-all is well now so there's nothing for you to worry about And you are not to send any money home. Pop would have a fit!'

On the following August 12th, Sergeant Bolan was summoned to his base camp chaplain's office, where he learned of his father's death. And of his mother's. And of his sister's. The official communique also advised that young Johnny Bolan was in critical condition but was expected to survive. Bolan was air-lifted home on emergency leave to handle funeral arrangements and to see to the care of his orphaned brother.

It was a sad and traumatic home-coming for this professional soldier. The trauma was deepened when Sergeant Bolan learned the circumstances of the deaths from the homicide detective who met him at the airport The elder Bolan had evidently 'gone berserk' and, without apparent provocation, had shot his wife, son, and daughter, finally turning the gun on himself. Only the son survived.

It was another 48 hours before young Johnny Bolan was removed from the hospital's critical list and the grieving soldier could fully piece together the events leading to the tragedy. Johnny's statement to a police stenographer, delivered from a hospital bed, reads as follows:

Pop had been sick and couldn't work for a while. He got behind in some bills and he was worried about some money he borrowed about a year ago. Then he went back to work and he could not do the job he had been doing, because of his heart, and the job they gave him did not pay as much. He was worried about that, because of the bills and being behind, and then these guys were starting to bother him at work. These guys he owed some money to. I heard him tell Mama one night that they were blood-suckers, that they didn't even want to leave him enough every week to take care of his family. He said they could all go to hell. Then one night he came home with his arm pulled out of the socket His shoulder, I mean. These goons had worked him over. Mama got all tore up over that. She was scared he would have another heart attack. She was going to call the cops but Pop wouldn't let her. He said they'd just start taking it out on her and the kids. I heard Mama telling Cindy about it. Then things got okay again, a few weeks ago. Pop couldn't understand, but he was telling Mama these goons had been leaving him alone, and he sure wasn't going to go ask them why. Then the other night something happened. I don't know what I just know Pop started yelling and blowing his stack Mama and Cindy were trying to quiet him down, they were afraid he'd have another attack. Then next thing I knew he had this old gun of his and he was blasting away with it. One of the shots got me. Then Pop went back in his bedroom and I heard one more shot just before I passed out That's all I know.

It was 'all' Johnny knew for the official police record, and the statement was sufficient to close the case as 'murder-suicide.' For Sergeant Mack Bolan, however, the case was anything but closed. Johnny had no desire to withhold anything from his brother, and in a private conversation with Mack, he confided that Cindy had become involved with the 'goons' who had been pressuring their father.

'She went to see these guys,' Johnny said, 'and told them about Pop's heart and asked them to lay off'f him. She told me about that. What she didn't tell me was about this later deal she let them talk her into. At first she was just turning her paycheck over to them every week. She was only getting thirty-five a week, and that was supposed to be going in the bank for her college, you know. Then I found out what she'd started doing for them. She started working for those guys, Mack. She was-sellin' her ass. Don't look at me like that, she was. I followed her one night and I found out for myself. I knew something was bothering her. I wasn't trying to spy on her, I just wanted to know what was wrong. Well, I caught her. I followed her to this motel, and I hung around outside. I saw this guy go in. After he left, I busted in. The door wasn't even locked. Cindy was on the bed, bare-assed and crying. She about died when she saw me. She said she had to get that money paid back quick, or they'd go to work on Pop again. She said they gave her a month, just one month, to cough up five hundred bucks, and they told her how she could earn the money. They set the whole thing up, and sent this guy she called Leo around to talk to her. Leo set up dates for her. He'd call her and tell her the time and the place. She had just finished her third 'date' when I caught her. I told her it was no good, that Pop wouldn't want it that way. She said it wasn't a matter of what Pop wanted or didn't want, it was just a matter of what had to be done. Well, I couldn't get anywhere with her. So I did a dumb thing. All I could think of was telling Pop. I knew he'd straighten Cindy out I mean, I knew he wouldn't hold still for what she was doing. God, Mack, I didn't think he'd go nuts. And he did. He went completely ape. Right off the bat he busted me in the mouth. Knocked me flat. I saw stars. I was layin' there on the floor and he was yelling and jumping around like something gone crazy. You know what I think? I think he must've had some idea that something funny had been going on. I mean, the look in his eyes when I told him. Like the light dawning, you know. Just the same, I never saw him like that before. He reached down and got ahold of me again and be was slapping me with his open hand and yelling, Tell me you're lying, tell me you're lying!'

'Then Cindy came running in. She was trying to pull Pop offa me, and both of them were yelling and screaming. Pop let go of me finally and I don't really know what they were saying to each other, except Pop kept muttering, 'It's a lie, it's a lie'-and Cindy was trying to explain that it didn't matter, that it wasn't that important. Oh yeah-she told him she'd sell her soul if that's what it took, that he meant more to her than any lousy phoney morality-and I think that's what really touched him off. He got real quiet then, and then Mama came running in. That's how fast all this happened. Mama had been in the bedroom asleep, and you know how light she sleeps. By the time she got awake and could get in there, all the shouting had ended.

'She and Cindy started trying to fix my mouth, trying to stop the bleeding. Pop was standing in a corner, his arms folded across his chest, and he was just looking at us. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face, Mack. I remember he said something silly, real silly, in that quiet way he had of talking sometimes, you remember? The sort of meditating voice? He said, 'Cindy, I want you to get an education, honey.' I don't think Cindy heard him. She was trying to get some ice out of a tray, to put on my lip, I guess. Anyhow she didn't say anything back to him. He walked out of the room, back toward his bedroom. Next thing I knew, Pop was back, standing in the doorway. He had that old pistol in his hand, that old Smith and Wesson Uncle Billy gave him. I tried to yell something, but I didn't get a chance. Mama and Cindy were both mother-henning me, hovering over me. He shot me first. I actually saw him pull the trigger, I mean I saw his finger moving. Then it was like the world coming to an end. He just kept on pulling that trigger. I saw Mama and Cindy go down and still he kept shooting. He stood there staring at me after the gun was empty, just staring at me. Mama and Cindy were laying across me and one of Mama's arms was on my head. I was peeping at him around Mama's body. It was like he didn't even know Mama and Cindy were there, like it was just me'n him. He looked me right in the eye and said, I'm sorry I busted your lip, John-O.' Then he just turned around and went back out, back toward the bedroom. Coupla minutes later I heard another shot Then somebody started banging on the front door and I passed out'

Mack Bolan's only comment to his brother's emotional story was a hushed, 'Son of a bitch.' This entry from the diary, however, dated August 16th, is more revelatory of his reaction to the triple tragedy:

'Cindy did only what she thought had to be done. In his own mixed-up way, I guess Pop did the same. Can I do any less?'

And on August 17th, Bolan wrote: 'It looks like I have been fighting the wrong enemy. Why defend a front line 8,000 miles away when the real enemy is chewing up everything you love back home? I have talked to the police about this situation and they seem to be helpless to do anything. The problem, as I see it, is that the rules of warfare are all rigged against the cops.

Just knowing the enemy isn't enough. They have to prove he's the enemy, and even then sometimes he slips away from them. What is needed here is a bit of direct action, strategically planned, and to hell with the rules. Over in 'Nam we called it a 'war of attrition.' Seek out and destroy. Exterminate the enemy. I guess it's time a war was declared on the home front. The same kind of war we've been fighting at 'Nam. The very same kind.'

On August 18th a sportsman's shop in Pittsfield was burglarized. The owner reported that a high-powered hunting rifle, a deluxe scope, some targets, and several boxes of ammunition had been taken. An envelope of money sufficient to cover the loss had been left on the cash register. It was just a midnight sale with no salesman present,' the shopkeeper told police. 'Evidently nothing else was disturbed and, from my standpoint, no crime has been committed.'