Luck Takes a Lot of Hard Work

As an aspiring professional actress that loved that movie, I knew the lines by heart.

Hooker: Listen, Gondorff! Am I gonna learn the big con or not?

Henry: What's your hurry?

Hooker: I want to play for Lonnegan.

Henry: You know anything about the guy?

Hooker: Yeah! He croaked Luther! Anything else I gotta know?

[after he calms down]

All right. He runs a numbers racket on the south side.

He owns a packing house. A few banks.

Henry: Yeah, and half the politicians in New York and Chicago.

Not a fix in this world is gonna cool him out if he blows on you.

Hooker: I'll get him anyway.

Henry: Why?

Hooker: 'Cause I don't know enough about killin' to kill him.

(Thanks to wiki, please support them.)

I waited a few minutes to think. Addressing them by their birth names I answered. "Zio Beniamino and Zia Sophia, they have big money, we do not. The revenge has to be only if I can do it safely." My Aunt and Uncle nodded in agreement. One thing the three of us knew was that going against Westerfield and his cronies would not be easy. It might also be futile. We talked about that group having no morals, few limits and much money. That is where "The Sting" came in. Everything for the revenge had to be done without a trail. None of us knew what would happen if I or my Aunt were ever found out.

In two weeks, Uncle Ben passed quietly and peacefully. Auntie Sophie and I were sitting with him. We were singing selected Italian opera pieces, peasant songs his parents sung to him at a child and religious songs that he loved. This first generation Italian was not able to make a second generation Italian, although he and my Aunt loved me as one. I was blessed because of them.

In the following weeks, I started spending some of my off hours from waitressing and my more important auditions for acting jobs to research Ronald George Thomas Westerfield. I started collecting information on Westerfield and his 'known associates'. 'Public' information was not going to do it except for addresses, property tax records and the normal self promotion of social media accounts. That research only showed only hints of what lay beneath the surface.

Being a crime mystery TV fan, there were enough CSI like shows that made me think trice about more in-depth internet searches and getting into specialized websites. I did not know much except one thing for sure. I knew I was probably playing with unstable nitroglycerin on a rocking boat during a lightning storm while holding an iron flagpole and being shit-faced drunk. Did I leave anything out?

Glasses clinking in the background brought me back to the bar. I sipped my stout and looked over at 'my' bartender, Mark. He's known me since I moved into the neighborhood over 3 years ago.

I first moved in with a couple of people sharing a rented house. The guys had a most difficult time learning about keeping the kitchen clean until the day food poisoning hit only the guys at the same time. I can never forget the guys having diarrhea, vomiting and nausea for 18 straight hours before it lessened. We had one bathroom so I spent the next 3 days at my Uncle and Aunt's apartment on the sofa. The guys were required to fully clean and disinfect the entire house and post Food Safety rules in the kitchen. I guess it only took once to cure them of their bad habits. After the lease was over, we scattered to the winds but had remained friends.

The 'best part' of their food poisoning was they started to listen to me more. I had worked in commercial kitchens before and knew the "Do's and the Don'ts" of safe food management. They were computer science majors and I was a theatre major. We existed in different worlds.

It was a couple of months after the lease was over that I realized that I now needed their knowledge. I felt like Donald Rumsfeld. "... there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns..."

That always made my head hurt. It was true, but my head still hurt.

I figured out that this meant that this theater major knew that she didn't know jack shit about computers and the internet and stalking somebody. My task now was to not look like I was grilling them but only interested in learning about computers and the internet beyond my current 'just click here' or 'DON'T CLICK THERE'.

I got on their 'party circuit' invites and started to hang with the 'computer geek' crowd. They actually were a bunch of great people. At times they were a bit nerdish, but really aware of many things that I would gloss over. It took a quite a few parties with them and many internet searches afterwards to know what I needed to know about -- the UNKNOWN UNKNOWNS. I became pretty good at understanding Geek speak. However, like any foreign language, it is harder to speak it then to understand it. If I heard the 'humorous joke' ( Loud groaning allowed here. No, make that loud groaning REQUIRED here. ), "You have to pay your syntax" ( SIN TAX ) one more time, .... I was going to have my own version of 18 hours of shitting and vomiting. This was my payment for me to get an unofficial minor in internet security and computer technical fluency.

From these conversations at parties, my friends immediately and directly pointed out that everybody leaves little snippets of traceable 'fingerprints' whenever on-line. Then I found out that hardware also had signatures. I also learned that there are ways to minimize my risk.

Flea markets and swap meets were where I started to buy different computer hardware components and operating system software and programs. Out of date operating system credentials were particularly inexpensive. I was always in a disguise and paid cash in well used bills. Being a waitress helped with getting the well used bills. The disguises and the acting made it a somewhat enjoyable game. I got to practice being old, young, male, female, white, Hispanic, Eastern European, Western European, native and other foreign born to start off with. From my theater classes and experiences, I practiced being thin (naturally of course), 'full figured', chunky, heavy or really fat (ssbbw) as well as being able to add or subtract a couple of inches of height. Brown tinted contacts did help as I am blue eyed. Blue eyes just did not work when disguised as Hispanic, southern European or middle eastern. I experimented with different accents. I was Irish, Scottish, from the Deep South, East Texas, New York City, Newfoundland Canadian, and French Canadian. I was from the western Kansas plains, a Yooper from Upper Michigan ( 'ya' ), southern New Mexico and of course, Southern as well as Northern California. When I went out, I sometimes acted as a Lithuanian grandmother, a German housewife from Hamburg, a Sicilian priest, a French chef from Provence, a Bosnian delivery driver and even a Slovak fashion designer. I did not try Cajun, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, or Vietnamese. I picked up the differences between different regions in Mexico, Central and South America. My high school Spanish was only the starting point and I chose only 3 different areas and social classes for my Spanish accents. It was a game for me and important practice for my acting, wardrobe and make-up skills. Buying a couple of used fat suits from theaters and most of my clothing from Goodwill helped keep expenses down.

I spent much time following my prey electronically. I needed to know my enemy and the companies he worked at and the people he interacted with. I needed to see his 'tribe' to try to see any weakness to exploit. I needed to know what his patterns were. Who did he meet with and where. Who did he socialize with and where? Who did he fuck? To protect myself, inexpensive computer components were being physically sacrificed every couple of weeks. At $75 a crack for parts, it was adding up as acting gigs are not steady or well paying at this starting point of my career. I hoped that all I did was to make tracing any of my actions more difficult. The phrases 'Don't do the crime if you can't do the time' kept me awake at night. 'Are you really paranoid if they really are out to get everybody?' was my other worry companion. ( Thank Joseph Heller for this paraphrased line from Catch-22. ) The other thing I quickly realized was that the strongest point in a chain was the weakest link. I determined early on to not involve anyone besides my Auntie. Only at great need would my Auntie be brought in.

Internet connections were traceable so I started using public wifi login accounts from different coffee houses, hotels, libraries, schools and even a few McDonalds. I needed to be careful of my access points to the internet. Being around college students helped me electronically hide. Students tended to be loose with internet connections, users names and passwords and even loaning out computers or access to private and public servers. Visually and electronically I was rarely the same 'person' at any specific location. Motel parking lots were also great places as their passwords tended to be standard and hiding across the street or having coffee while 'waiting for someone' made me invisible.

I laughed when I found out how easy it was to send a spoof emails from a Linux server. For years I blocked spam senders and now realized that it was all for little, if any payoff. The listed senders were not real. For fun I sent my self an email from ronald@jackass_and_asshole.com to one of my throw away email accounts. It immediately showed up in my inbox past some spam blockers.

I was also able to anonymously purchase time on a series of different VPNs and some offshore VPN accounts too. I hoped that using those VPNs made tracing my electronic footprints more difficult. I'm sure the CIA and the FBI could have tracked me down quickly. I wasn't planning to sell corporate or state secrets, murder, buy stolen goods, hack elections or sell or buy drugs or weapons. I reasoned that I was semi-safe. It was all a game that I wanted to win, but did not want to sacrifice myself trying to do it.

I took over a year to get a decent picture of Westerfield and his cronies. I needed to see him in person at some of his 'dinner meetings' where he attempted to wine and dine new prospects for business or for his bed.

I found out with COVID running rampant, I was able to get hired being paid cash under the table by two of the restaurants that Westerfield would frequent. There was no paperwork I could be traced from, especially wearing different disguises and being Covid masked at each restaurant. Busing tables nearby his tables, I was able to photograph some of his dinner companions and overhear some of their conversations. This is when I started to piece together his 'evil cabal'. (If you are from Chicago and were 'city politics' aware in the 70's, you would have heard this line from a previous mayor. Don't worry, she later joined the cabal because she needed their power to get anything done.) Westerfield and his co-conspirators did not speak softly. I picked up a battery powered wireless mike that I hid in the table centerpiece. It broadcast to my laptop hidden in the break room for recording. Some of the other conversations by other patrons captured were, how shall I say, were very interesting. There were more than a few affairs that I heard about to say nothing about some drug deals and some out-of-control gambling. The one's I loved were the couples working to keep their relationships alive. There are good people out there, and those good people kept me sane and human.

One of the things that I did, but had no idea why at the time, was to bring home samples of glasses that he and his co-conspirators used for fingerprints and possible dna testing. Better to have more options if I needed more in the future.

By now Westerfield was on to his fourth company. The previous three, one being my Uncle's, were 'bought out' because of 'failed reorganizations'. His current company was not a candidate for this form of liquidation. He seemed to have moved up the responsibility food chain to actually bring in real business. Hearing him talk, he 'coordinated' with suppliers for his own kickbacks, again.

"Well Liz, how about a penny for your thoughts?" Breaking into my thoughts, there was Mark smiling at me. Where did he appear from? Looking at him I never realized the glint in his eye toward me, or even that smile. Why had I not seen it before? I know that I've been busy the past two years, but to miss something that big?

"Mark?" as I held up my empty glass, "Make it a short stout. I gotta walk home and I'll be at my limit." I lived in walking distance from the bar and without an available 'walking buddy', I knew that I would not be safe later. I've been very tense and busy for the last couple of weeks and today needed to unwind, not to get shitfaced.

He brought me a short stout and stayed with me. The bar had gotten quiet as the regulars were slowly leaving. Closing was officially in one hour. "So what have you been doing in the past month? You look like you've been through the war." This meant something as he was in the army and did a 'hot' tour in Iraq. I sometimes saw a scar on his forearm that he always changed the subject if anyone would ask about it.

"Oh, just taking care of some business. Just wrapped things up and I'm kind of celebrating. Can't celebrate any more than this" as I jiggled my stout, "or I'll never get home. What about you? What have you been up to?"

"Jenny and I called it quits two months ago. Unofficially, she couldn't handle me bartending and the stake outs. Officially, we just weren't working out. I thought that it'd be better to be upfront about what we felt about how we were together - we were just not good together any more. She jumped on it and added her side. I'm ok, she's ok too. She's not a bad person. It was nice to end it on an upfront note."

"Sorry to hear that you broke up, I know that it's never easy. You two looked happy together. Congrats on being upfront and honest about it. It shows what kind of person you are." That's when something clicked in my 'stouted' mind. "But what did you say about stake outs?"

Mark got a sheepish look on his face. He moved closer in and spoke in a quiet voice. "Errrr...." he exhaled as he looked around us. "Please keep this quiet. I sometimes get hired by an honest-to-god lawyer to observe certain people. It tends to be mostly spouses stepping out of their marriages and sometimes it's corporate. I do it as it pays well and she knows me well enough that I'm not going to get her or me in trouble." Suddenly a half dozen couples came in and started ordering a round. There were 4 'fancy-schmancy' ice cream drinks and I knew that our conversation was not going to continue tonight. He immediately went to the couples and started working. I sipped my stout and thought about the past two months. I quickly downed the rest of it and waved to Mark on my way out. My body was being called to a warm bath and a long overdue sleep.

-----------

Sunlight was coming in through my window. That seemed kind of strange, so I just stayed in bed thinking. That's when I realized that it was the afternoon sun from that window. Checking the alarm clock, it was 1:30 in the afternoon. 'Ain't Saturdays great'.

Needing to continue to celebrate, I made myself some french toast with my stale Italian bread. Going out for a stout was strictly budgeted at twice a month. Fancy breakfast at home was in the monthly budget and a rare bit of heaven on earth. Auntie Sophie and I were going to have dinner together later this evening. She needed to celebrate too. I was going to take this afternoon to pamper myself with another long hot bath while reading one of my guilty pleasure trashy Romance novels. I did not get to do that much in the past year.

For the past 9 months, I was no closer to my goal of revenge when a break happened. One of the many things I monitored was the condo building where Westerfield lived. I always thought that if somehow I could gain safe entry to his condo, I could find out much. I could also possibly set him up for severe problems too. I investigated all sorts of different ways to be in that building including being maintenance staff, hired for maid services, being a painter or repairmen and more. However, nothing 'safe' became available. The condo management had those jobs locked down to insured and bonded companies that vetted their employees for insurance and contractual requirements. I even tried to get hired by the fire inspection and refuse companies. I had previously taken some CDL license classes and would need 3 months to complete that. But that was an investment I was not yet willing to make. I was also not yet willing to risk my personal information being used.

I thought about showing up at the condo as a mover with furniture. In fact, I was at the last hour of an estate sale and got some very non-prime 'antiquey looking' furniture for $100. The Estate sale company knew that it would cost them more to dump it all, and I walked away with $100 of their money for removal fees. I was able to quickly rent a large van and took the furniture to a small storage unit. To save space and make it easier, the hopeless pieces were immediately converted into firewood. These wooden pieces were put into different dumpsters a couple of pieces at a time. My experience in stage crew gave me enough skills to 'improve' the furniture enough for the pieces to look good if I needed to go that way.

Another option I considered was to purchase a condo unit in his building (starting at $1.2 million) or lease a condo for a year for $72,000 - $90,000. The building only allowed 10% of the units to be leased and a unit could only be leased for 1 year out of 5. I did not have $72K or the credit to get a loan of the size needed to buy one. I kept digging.

Monitoring the internal condo website that was set up 'only for the owners', I found out that the condo right next to Westerfield's was now open for an immediate 6 month short term lease. The owner had died and the out-of-the-country son was suddenly responsible for it. The condo association management allowed him to rent it out for 6 months so that most of the back assessments and late fees would be paid. The lease was going to run $36,000.

It was now approaching 5 PM, the time I'd need to leave to have dinner at my Auntie's apartment. I dressed and hopped a bus to Auntie Sophie's. I was lucky that I only had to wait for 2 minutes for the bus. The trip was only 15 minutes followed by another 2 minute walk. Opening the door to her apartment with my key, I could see and smell the 'peasant food' of her youth. Food that has become appreciated and now much higher priced. As Uncle Ben used to say, "Damn Yuppies made everything good and cheap expensive".

Auntie Sophie saw me walk in and immediately offered to me something on a spoon to sample from a pot on the stove. "Elisabetta, what do you think?" She asked with a smile. I've never had a bad meal from her. I've also never even had an 'ok' meal from her. All meals were very good, great or out of this world. Then again, I've lived on ramen for months at a time when finances were tight.

I set the table, brought out the antipasto plate and opened the wine. Ten minutes later, she sat down and we started the meal. We would eat one small, by American standards, course at time. The first was the paper thin prosciutto di Parma, olives, fried polenta squares, and pickled vegetables. I picked up my glass for a toast. "To success Auntie Sophie."

Instead of clinking her glass with mine, she stood up and said "Elisabetta, for all your hard work, devotion, perseverance and grit. None of this would have happened except for you my dear." Then she clanked her glass with mine.