All language subtitles for Lords.of.the.Mafia.with.Robert.Stack.S01E13.Organized.Crime.A.Global.Menace.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

The experts said it was
impossible, unthinkable.

"Organized crime
doesn't work that way.

It could never happen."

But the evidence
prove them wrong.

For years, rumors
have circulated

that the world's
leading crime syndicates

hold top-secret summit meetings

where the dark lords
of the underworld

plan strategies for
spreading the virus

of drugs, vice, and corruption.

At first, law enforcement
dismissed rumors

of the United Nations of
crime as sheer nonsense.

They believed the cultural
differences, intense rivalries,

and competitive zeal
would forever prevent

international crime
bosses from teaming up

in an underworld federation.

The major crime organizations
were always seen

as independent
sovereign empires,

each operating within
a specific territory.

Today, organized
crime has been traced

to all regions of the globe.

The traditional zones of
influence have overlapped,

eclipsing the power
of law enforcement

To track the spread
of organized crime,

computer profiles
have been established

of the leading
international syndicates.

Historically, if you're
looking at the roots

of the mafia in
Sicily and in Italy,

you can trace it back to really
the history of this country

being overrun by a whole
bunch of different cultures,

the French, the
Spanish, Venetians.

There's never been much

of a law enforcement
apparatus on the island.

The Russian Mafia
is an extremely

problematic group
for law enforcement,

and what makes them different

is that here you're talking

about some extremely
bright individuals

who are experts at
carrying out a whole range

of activities that are illegal,

everything from illegal
immigration to insurance fraud

to crimes within Russia
to a growing involvement

here in the United States.

They have a very
checkered history.

They go back 300 years,
but it was only during

the 1920s and '30s that they
were able to make their mark

and prepare the way
for what we know

as the modern gangs
of Yakuza today.

And really the modern
American mafia as we know it

was born up on those streets
in the boyhood rumbles

of guys like
Luciano and Lucchese

and Frank Costello
and Vito Genovese.

They all knew each other,
and they were all in the same

what was called a borgata.

Borgata means like a gang.

Pablo Escobar, along
with the other members

of the Medellin cartel,
were able to mass market

the cocaine, which made it,

they controlled
everything from production

to transportation
and distribution.

So it became a cartel
as opposed to just two

independent-type groups
working together.

The relationship
between crime organizations

has always been that of
bloody power struggles

fueled by cultural
mistrust and hatred.

Ever since the '30s,
there's been bad blood

between the Sicilian
and American mafia.

It started when Lucky
Luciano and Tommy Lucchese

rubbed out the Sicilian
don Joe Masseria.

The rising stars of the
American underground

then hit godfather
Salvatore Maranzano.

His murder wiped out Sicilian
competition for decades.

Since those bloody days
on Brooklyn's streets,

the Sicilian mafia has
hated their American rivals.

Naturally, the American mafia
never trusted the Sicilians.

Fearful of the competition from
the Sicilian heroin empire,

Colombia drug lords also
disliked the Cosa Nostra.

In turn, many crime bosses
shunned the Colombians.

"Who could do business

with coke-snorting
billionaires?" they reasoned.

Meanwhile, the chief competitors
in the Eastern Hemisphere,

the Russian mafia
and the Yakuza,

always despised each other,
and Japanese mobsters

are known to never trust a
gangster who isn't Japanese.

It was always thought
this mutual hostility

and competitive
zeal was more lethal

than bullets or wiretaps
in preventing the alliance

of criminal organizations,
but no longer.

You see alliances among
organized crime groups,

each of them capitalizing
on their strengths,

their knowledge of
a particular region.

And they've also
been extremely clever

at using the computers
for a whole variety

of their activities,
from promoting drug trade

to transferring money
around the world

to laundering money
offshore and using it

and encrypting their files
so that law enforcement

can't even find out
what they're up to.

It now appears
a worldwide merger

of the major criminal
organizations is underway.

If it succeeds,
organized crime will be

the largest business
enterprise on the planet.

Ironically, it was a
crackdown by law enforcement

that sparked the
first partnership

of international
criminal syndicates.

In 1987, over 300 gangsters
from the Sicilian mafia

stood trial on charges
ranging from murder

to heroin trafficking.

It was called the Maxi Trial.

Government resources
poured into Palermo

as prosecutors
prepared to undertake

the largest trial
in Italian history.

The prosecutor's
office was provided

with all the support needed
to move the trial forward

safely and efficiently.

A fortified courthouse was built

to protect the participants.

Tanks and army troops
surrounded the perimeter.

They had cages built
for the defendants.

They had glass booths. They
had hundreds of guards.

It was just a tremendously
secure situation

to try these mafia members.

And the mafia members
throughout the trial

would spit at the authorities
and yell obscenities.

And in one case, one of
them actually stapled

his lips together to
show he would not break

the code of omerta, or
the code of silence.

For centuries,
the oath of silence

has protected the Sicilian
mafia, but in the '80s,

the light of justice
and the courage of a man

pierced their dark
shroud of secrecy.

Judge Giovanni Falcone
believed in the power of law,

believed the truth of
justice could illuminate

the shadow of lies that
shielded the Cosa Nostra.

Falcone was a man of faith.

He never really talked
about it very much,

but it was his faith in justice

and his faith that
carried him through,

that gave him the
strength to go on.

Out of the
hundreds of mobsters on trial,

Falcone had his sight
set on Tito Riina,

the godfather of the
powerful Corleone family.

If Falcone could bring
down the Corleones,

he would drive a stake
through the heart

of the entire mafia.

But Falcone was up against
an extremely cunning

and ruthless criminal.

He was called The Beast.

Riina does not
speak Italian well,

speaks no other languages,
to my knowledge,

has really not traveled
outside of Italy and Sicily,

and made no effort
to be involved in

or interested in
international matters

other than narcotics
trafficking.

At the same time, he had, has

an extraordinary memory.

People say that he never
forgot any slight or any favor

and would reward
those who favored him

and eliminate those
who had slighted him.

He is known among
his fellow mafiosi

as an extremely
tough, cruel man,

a person not given
to random violence,

but a person who sort
of fundamental instinct

is to eliminate anyone who
might be of danger to him.

The 1987 Maxi Trial

was a major victory for justice.

300 mobsters were convicted.
The nation rejoiced.

Falcone was a hero, but his
targeted quarry had escaped.

The Beast had gone to ground.

Convicted and sentenced
to a life term,

Riina had disappeared, leaving
his minions to vent his rage.

Mafia members were furious

and became like a
kind of wounded beast

after the convictions.

They were furious.

They were furious at
their friends in power,

and they were determined
to make them pay.

Breaking
the cutthroat yolk
of the Cosa Nostra

made Judge Falcone a marked man,

number one on the
mafia's hit list.

He was protected by
bodyguards and bulletproof cars,

lived in an apartment that
was really more like a bunker.

His office could only be entered
through a series of doors

with cameras looking
at who was entering.

But he was
philosophical about it.

He was certainly not fatalistic.

Believed that the
enemy was after him

but wanted to accomplish
what he could.

Bodyguards,
bulletproof limos,

escorts of armed
officers all were useless

against the wrath of Tito Riina.

It was a pleasant day
in September of 1992.

That Saturday, he had
traveled down to Palermo

to visit his wife, who was
a magistrate in Palermo,

and was going to be one
of his last trips there.

And undoubtedly mafia knew that

and had set out a
plan to kill him.

They had people in Rome
who were able to communicate

by cellular phone the moment
that Falcone left his office.

Someone waiting at the
airport could then communicate

to people in Palermo.

The plane has taken off, and
it's heading toward Palermo.

There were people waiting
outside the airport

to signal his arrival.

And then a couple of
miles from the airport,

a squad of mafiosi had
placed an enormous quantity

of explosives in a
kind of drain pipe

that was underneath
the highway itself

so that then on a signal
from someone else,

they then detonated
this truly massive

quantity of explosives.

The explosion
killed Judge Falcone,

his wife, and three bodyguards.

The assassination
had shown the mafia

to be what they always were,

animals led by a man
who truly was a beast.

The country wanted the mafia
banished from Sicily forever.

People were fed up
with what was going on.

They were fed up with
people like Riina.

They had lost that
sense of support

that the mafia had
traditionally had,

where the mafia
helps poor people

and helps them solve problems
and looks out for them,

helps them in their
times of need and so on.

The mafia was not
being seen that way.

The mafia was being seen
as a predatory organization

and that the only people being
helped with those themselves

and perhaps some of the
highest-level people

in the Italian government.

Realizing the Cosa Nostra

was no longer ruler
of their homeland,

Tito Riina and other Sicilian
godfathers began searching

for new opportunities
on foreign shores.

Before his death,
Judge Falcone warned

that if the Sicilians
were not stopped,

they would spearhead
the formation

of an international
criminal coalition.

The judge's warning was ignored.

But in 1989, a drug
trafficker was picked up

on a routine smuggling charge.

The story he told
sent shock waves

through law
enforcement agencies.

It appeared Judge Falcone's
prophecy had come true.

State your
name for the record.

Giuseppe Cuffaro.

Where do you
reside, Mr. Cuffaro?

Palermo, Sicily.

Do you
have any knowledge

of the Corleone family or anyone
by the name of Tito Riina?

Yes.

Yes, a simple
word, but if true,

Cuffaro broke the
Sicilian code of silence.

I work for one of the top
men in the Madonia family,

his grandfather, Tito Riina.

They want him to make a
deal with the Colombians.

Questions ripped
through the agents' minds.

Have they stumbled on a mafia
insider willing to talk?

I want full immunity.

Or perhaps
Cuffaro was just a lying,

desperate criminal hoping
for a reduced sentence.

Okay,
just let me know.

A Medellin.

In western Colombia,

there's a pastoral countryside

of cattle ranges and
lush green fields.

Here reside the
massive plantations of
the Medellin Cartel.

In the '80s, much of the cocaine

smuggled into America
came from Medellin.

Each year, the
harvest of coca plants

yielded billions of drug money

for the boss of the
cartel, Pablo Escobar.

I can't think of any single
example of a criminal figure

that has ever accumulated
a personal fortune

the size of Pablo Escobar's.

He had women, he had horses.

He had beautiful
fixtures in his homes.

He had an antique
car collection.

He had all the rest of it.

He was a man who was, who
liked to spend his money.

Pablo Escobar
had wealth beyond imagining,

all derived from a drug empire

that was built on the blood
and bones of thousands.

Pablo Escobar
was a mafia boss.

He was a ruthless
drug trafficker

who probably killed more people

than any individual
drug trafficker

in the history of Colombia.

He was a ruthless killer.

This man aligned himself
with narcoterrorism.

He placed bombs on airplanes.
He murdered people.

Pablo Escobar was no folk hero.

He has blood on his
hands in Colombia

that'll be in their history
books for the next century.

A
small-time drug pusher

may be despised and vilified,

but sadly, in this day and age,

a murdering billionaire
drug trafficker like Escobar

is celebrated by some as
a man of accomplishments.

People in Colombia loved him,

especially in the
neighborhood that he grew up

where he built hospitals,
schools, soccer fields,

and he was looked upon as a
hero, a Robin Hood, if you will,

as opposed to a drug trafficker.

He is one of the
men that I think,

one of the 10, 20, or 30
people of the late 20th century

that I think has really
counted, has made a difference.

Of course, the vast
majority of what he did

was extremely unfortunate
for Colombia, for the world.

But he was the architect
of the cocaine industry,

the way we see it today.

By the late
'80s, Escobar's rise

to fame and fortune
began a steep decline.

The boss of the Medellin
Cartel was a wanted man,

fleeing the combined
police forces

of Colombia and
the United States.

Special Agent Ramiro
Escudero spent 12 years

investigating drug trafficking
and money laundering

for the FBI's Los
Angeles field division.

So we were, as a government,
aware of his power,

and we were trying
to assist Colombia

in either apprehending him

or extraditing him
to the United States.

Do you know the
whereabouts of Pablo Escobar?

No.

Did Mr. Escobar
participate in the deal

between the Sicilian mafia
and the Medellin Cartel?

No, it's just Johnny
Galatalo, my boss,

and this bigshot from
the Escobar family.

Where'd the
meeting take place?

Aruba.

An island off
the coast of Venezuela,

Aruba's only resources
are the beaches,

resorts, and a
carefree banking system

that matches the
island lifestyle.

Aruba is a
money-laundering center

for the mobsters of the world.

In the late '80s,
the Sicilian mafia

was the island's
principal landowner.

Did you
attend that meeting?

Yeah, sure. I went
everywhere Johnny went.

What were your duties?

Back up, you know, make sure
everything goes real smooth,

keep my eyes, my ears open.

See, we didn't know
this Colombian guy,

and Johnny, he was
kind of worried

that he might be a cokehead.

And the family, they really
wanted this deal to go down,

and it was up to
Johnny to do it.

So that first day, Johnny
was a little bit nervous.

You know, I would be, too.

You don't ever want to
displease Tito Riina.

It's him.

Aponte had his own jet. Turned
out to be a nice guy, too.

Really knew how to enjoy life.

Right from the start,
he and Johnny got along.

Where did
they meet on the island

to discuss the deal?

Everywhere.

They went fishing, sailing,
walking on the beach.

All the time they
were talking business.

I had myself a real
good time in Aruba.

The deal, Cuffaro,
what about the deal?

The way Johnny explained it,
Aponte caught on right away.

Said the deal made
good business sense.

What made good sense?

That we'd trade our
heroin for their coke.

That way Colombians
could move their heroin

while we could move
their coke in Europe.

That's where we had the
fronts and the networks,

and they didn't.

The deal the
Sicilian was offering

was too good for the
Colombians to refuse.

Heroin has a higher
market value than cocaine,

and the Colombians
had coke to burn.

Plus the distribution
costs to Europe

were more than it cost
to produce the drug.

By merging the resources,

the two organizations
would control

the drug market
on two continents.

Aponte said he was sure
the cartel would agree.

The timing was right,
and like Johnny said,

it made good business sense.

All it took was cooperation.

Now, Aponte, see now,
Aponte, he was the one

that suggested we use Big
John to move the drugs.

Big John, who's he?

Nah, he's a she,
and she's a ship, a freighter.

In Aruba, we loaded
a ton of coke.

We could've put on 500 tons.

But Aponte, he said this
was just a trial run.

And Big John, she
took off for Sicily.

The ship was to offload

at a small fishing
village on the west coast.

I was ordered to call Aponte
as soon as I spotted it.

I was at that village
for two stinkin' weeks.

Big John, she came in,
though, no problem.

What happened then?

Well, we offloaded the coke,

and then we put on some
heroin for the Colombians.

Where did the
ship offload the drugs?

Somewhere in the United
States, that's all I know.

Other ships followed.

Europe was soon buried
under an avalanche

of Colombian coke
distributed by the Sicilians,

while in America, Sicilian
heroin was flowing in

from the Colombian network.

The first partnership
between two of the world's

major criminal
organizations exploded

in a tidal wave of cash.

To clean the billions of
dollars in drug money,

the Sicilians and Colombians
turned to the newest member

of the world's international
crime club, the Russian mafia.

The meltdown of the Iron Curtain

brought anarchy and chaos
to the Russian economy.

With Big Brother
dead and buried,

Mother Russia was
ripe for the taking

by ruthless crooks
with great ambitions.

In the last month of 1991,

the same month that the
hammer and sickle came down

over the Kremlin, a large
group of Soviet mafia leaders,

Russian mafia leaders, met
in a dacha outside Moscow.

They'd had many councils and
many meetings in the past.

This was one of their ways
of arranging the government,

so to speak, or the
governing bodies of crime

in the old Soviet Union.

And on their agenda, on
the top of the agenda

was what to do as the system
was imploding around them.

Everything was for sale.
Everyone had a price.

In this climate of
corruption and anarchy,

the Russian mafia
infiltrated corporations,

banks, and government agencies.

They set up shop as the
black market brokers

and money cleaners
for organized crime.

The Russian mob's best customer
was the Colombian cartels.

Engorged with millions
from their partnership

with the Sicilians,
the cocaine kings

went on a spending spree.

The Colombians lusted
for advanced technology

and high-tech weaponry.

Acting as middlemen,

Russian mafia sold
the Colombian's
radar-jamming technology,

munitions, armament,
even attack helicopters.

US law enforcement was powerless
to stop many of the deals

between the Colombians
and Russians,

but one deal they discovered

seemed right out of a
James Bond thriller.

The leading characters
were a strip club owner

called Tarzan, an undercover
agent named Sasha,

and a Soviet
submarine commander.

Some title the operation
20,000 Kilos under the Sea.

Run silent, run deep.

Move 100 tons of drugs
in a single voyage.

It doesn't take a
criminal genius to
dream up such a scheme,

but it does take
the combined power

of organized crime
to make it happen.

The plot first
came to the surface

at Miami's division of the
US Drug Enforcement Agency.

In the early '90s, Miami was
a crossroad of the underworld,

jet-setting gangsters
from the Chinese triads

of Southeast Asia to the
nearby Caribbean posses

and the mafia
families of New York.

All the world's
crime organizations

had field operations in Miami,

but the largest migration of
criminals was from Russia.

The influx of Russian
mobsters to Miami was so great

local FBI, DEA, and
immigration service officials

had informal meetings
in what was dubbed

the Little Odessa Room.

Here they sorted through
a bewildering array

of rumors, tips, and leads,

shuffling through names they
couldn't even pronounce.

One name they quickly learned
was Vyachelsav Ivankov.

I first became
aware of Ivankov

whenever I was talking to
the Russian authorities

and asked them to help us
identify the major criminals

in the United States
that came out of Russia,

and they provided me
the name of Ivankov.

Well, when we first
started looking at Ivankov,

he was bouncing from
one city to another.

He was primarily
in New York City,

but he was in Boston,
and he was in Denver.

He was in Los Angeles,
and he was in Miami,

and he was in San Francisco.

Then he may go back into Russia
to meet with other thieves.

To say that he was
the major figure

in the United
States, yes, he was.

There's no question
in our mind about it.

There was no question

in the Russian
authorities' mind about it.

You have to kind of understand
that Ivankov's reputation

is even bigger in Russia than
it is in the United States.

Ivankov began his
ascent to the upper regions

of the Soviet underground
while incarcerated

in the brutal Siberian Gulag.

Admired by other prison inmates,

Ivankov was elected to the
status of thief in law,

a position held by an elite
few professional criminals

who were powerful, charismatic,
and brutally ruthless.

In 1991, Ivankov was
released from prison.

The Russian Ministry of Internal
Affairs informed the FBI

that Ivankov immediately
left for America.

His mission, take
control and organize

Russian criminal activities
throughout North America.

Ivankov's base of operation

was a Brighton Beach
section of New York City.

Brighton is cited by
the "New York Press"

as a center of Soviet
emigre organized crime.

By 1992, Ivankov was under
constant surveillance.

The FBI tracked his movements

of the major cities
of the world.

It was no surprise when agents
traced Ivankov to Miami.

It was around this
time that a new name

began to pop up with
increasing frequency, Tarzan.

This was a nickname
for a Russian immigrant

who settled in Brighton
Beach in the late '80s.

In the Ukraine, Leonard Fainberg
was trained as a dentist.

In Brighton, he was known as
a friendly, fun-loving guy.

But as Fainberg neared
30, he began to change.

He started dressing like
a gangster, talked tough,

and reportedly dreamed of
becoming a thief in law

like his idol, Ivankov.

In 1990, Tarzan left Brighton,

telling friends he was going
to make his mark in Miami.

To the feds in Miami,

Tarzan sounded like
just another loser

dreaming of the big time.

Then they heard that
Tarzan was somehow involved

in the sale of
Soviet helicopters.

To determine the
truth of the rumors

about the wannabe
Russian wiseguy,

they decided to
test the feasibility

of an undercover operation.

A DEA agent who was
fluent in Russian

was assigned as the
undercover operator.

Tarzan ran a strip
club called Porky's,

and he was basically someone
the Russians would go to

to get girls or drugs,
strictly small-time stuff.

But then we started
to hear about him

and Soviet military equipment,

and that's basically
when I was brought in.

Like Tarzan, I was
from the Ukraine

and had lived in Brighton Beach.

Tarzan's club
was in a red light district

near the airport.

The initial strategy
was to attempt contact

and determine if it was possible
to get the suspect talking.

Sasha's cover was that
he was just another

Russian immigrant
looking to score.

♪ Oh, oh, yeah

Porky's was a real scumbucket.

We couldn't believe that
the owner of this joint

could be putting together the
deals we were hearing about.

A police informer Tarzan
trusted was in place.

At first Tarzan was suspicious

until he learned that Sasha
was also born in the Ukraine

and had lived in the
old neighborhood.

Yeah!

Just make me a profit.

What's the circuit?

Tarzan had taken
the bait. The operation was on.

Tarzan had no major
hits on his sheets.

Only a, I think, a lewd
behavior in public charge

and some strong-arm jobs,
nothing major at all.

So it really seemed odd

that we had this whole
undercover operation going

for this little sleazebag.

But of course, it turned out

to be much bigger than
we initially thought.

Sasha's job was to
become Tarzan's best friend,

to get Tarzan talking.

To learn what he
knows requires Sasha

to dress like Tarzan, talk
like him, act like him.

Sasha, we should
do business together,

two guys from the
old neighborhood.

What do you think?
- Sure, sure,

but what are we talking about?

I want to open up another
nightclub like this.

What, Porky's 2?

Maybe, hey, it
don't look like much,

but it makes a bundle.

No business, no
business is better

at getting money than a club.

Money
laundering was not

what Sasha wanted to hear.

What else you got going on?

But sooner or later,

he knew a guy like
Tarzan couldn't resist

talking about his big deal.

It looks like nightclubs
don't interest you,

but I got something big, huge.

There are these
guys I worked with.

I supplied them with
bulletproof limos,

choppers, that kind of thing.

Well, they got in touch
with me, and get this.

They want a submarine.

A submarine?

Yeah, a sub, a Soviet
military submarine

with a crew of 25.

They want to run drugs up
and down the West Coast.

Do these
guys have the money?

Do they have the money?

These guys have enough
money to buy a whole armada.

They're the Colombians!

Street
surveillance was ordered.

Drug-smuggling submarines sold
by a two-bit punk like Tarzan

seemed too fantastic to believe,

but the feds were
taking no chances.

Tarzan's contact with the
Colombians was Juan Almeida.

The Colombians paid for
Tarzan's trips to Russia

with sacks of money
dropped off by Almeida.

Much of the cash Tarzan
either banked or spent.

Tarzan was on a roll, partying
at Porky's then jetting off,

returning with snapshots
of subs for sale

and boasting about his contacts
with the Russian mafia.

But after months, Tarzan seemed
no closer to finding a sub.

Investigators began wondering
if the whole deal was a scam,

but the investigation continued.

I told Tarzan that we were
gonna have to look like experts

if we were going to
fool the Colombians.

I told him since I had
experience in the Marines,

I had the contacts we needed

to get all the technical advice.

I became Tarzan's sub advisor.

He'd come back from
Russia with pictures

and questions and
all, and basically

I'd have to fake
my way through it.

That was pretty easy to do

since he didn't know squat
about military technology.

I never thought the deal
would actually happen,

but you know, somehow
Tarzan came through.

He got his hands on a
Tango-class diesel submarine.

Tarzan told me that the
Russians are practically

giving away mothball Soviet subs

because the military's broke.

So basically that's
what happened.

He got a civilian agency
to approve it as surplus,

and they approved the sail
for oceanographic research.

He even found 25 out-of-work
sailors for a crew

and an admiral who figured
that skippering a drug sub

would be better than the, I
guess, standing in bread lines.

In Russia, a
final meeting was held.

The sub was waiting at the dock.

With the admiral by his side,
Tarzan made his closing pitch.

This is number one
machine in Russia.

But the admiral's
English was limited,

and the Colombian admitted
to only speaking Spanish,

so Tarzan translated to Almeida,

who translated
for the Colombian.

Since neither knew a
periscope from a torpedo tube,

communication was difficult.

That's 'cause it's, it has
very, very good displacement.

Very good for storage, good
for cocaine. Very good.

Then
a problem came up

the Colombian heard
loud and clear.

There is a little problem.

Because machine was in storage,
it, it cannot go under.

It doesn't submerge right now.

No, it cannot.

You have to tow it,
but, but it's okay.

It's okay because, because
we tow it. We can tow it!

Oceanography, it's very good.

It's very good
machine! We can tow it!

We got good cover! Come back!

Cover or no cover,

the Colombian wasn't buying
that a Soviet submarine

and tow to Colombia would
not attract attention.

Very good cover!

From
evidence obtained

by the undercover operation,

Tarzan was convicted
of racketeering.

Tarzan basically
turned state's evidence,

and he's now in the
witness protection program.

You ever
have contact with him again?

No, not at all.

The Colombians
may have backed out,

but the scheme to use a
submarine for drug smuggling

was a warning shot
across the bow

of law enforcement everywhere

of what can happen
when gangs unite.

Far as is known,
a Soviet submarine

has never been used
for dope smuggling,

but the alliance between
the Sicilians, Colombians,

and the Russian mafia
did succeed in forming

a chain of evil that
spanned continents.

The final link was
forged when East met West

as the American mafia united

with the fearsome
Yakuza of Japan.

New York was a port of entry

for most of Europe's immigrants,

and it became the
breeding ground

for some of organized crime's
most notorious members.

Al Capone, Lucky
Luciano, Meyer Lansky

all came from immigrant families

who settled in the
Five Points area,

a crowded ghetto
with a long history

of Irish, Jewish, and
Italian gang activity.

It was here a diverse
bunch of ethnic gangs

coalesced in the early 1930s.

Five criminal groups
or families emerged

as a central core of a
nationwide crime syndicate

generally referred
to as the mob.

Really the modern
American mafia as we know it

was born up on those
streets in boyhood rumbles

of guys like
Luciano and Lucchese

and Frank Costello
and Vito Genovese.

These were guys who were
innovative thinkers.

They were smart.
They were shrewd.

They were not educated
in the academic sense,

but they understood business.

They understood markets.

They had all the
requisite talents

to become great businessmen.

But for reasons that we
don't quite yet understand,

they went in another direction.

The mob's
first big break came

when the sale of alcohol
was banned in the '20s.

Profits from bootleg liquor

filled the war chest
of America's mafia.

No longer would mafia families

be struggling Italian
immigrants from the slums.

After World War II, the mafia
expanded their operations,

hauling in millions from
gambling in Las Vegas and Cuba

and from cash cows such
as labor racketeering

and narcotics trafficking.

With politicians and
police across the country

on their payroll, the
mafia was on a roll

that seemed unstoppable.

Today, mafia godfather
John Gotti is in jail,

and the old generation of dons

have retired to the golf course.

Their successors are
often brash, stupid,
and inexperienced.

Good news for law enforcement,

as former FBI agent Jules
Bonavolonta explains.

The new leaders,
the leaders of today,

the second and third team,
as I've always called them,

they're tied not by honor,
respect, and family.

They're tied by the economy.

They're tied by money.
They're tied by greed.

And greed and money, those
ties are much easier to break

than honor, respect, and family.

So what we're finding
is a much less competent

mafia leader today.

You know, you ever
see those charts,

and you know, the original
Neanderthal or the Lucy,

wherever it is, the
earliest man that kind of,

they look sort of ape-like.

But as the time goes
on, they get smarter.

Their brain cases get bigger,

and now they're erect Homo
sapiens in business suits.

It's the opposite way here.

By the '80s, the
American mafia was seen

as the poor relative of the
international crime family.

Recently there's been
disturbing evidence

the mafia is on the rise,
aided by an ally from the East.

They began as warriors

protecting the interest
of feudal lords.

In the 16th century, they
became noble protectors,

fighting for the rights
of the common people.

With these roles came power,
and power tends to corrupt.

Today the Yakuza are
among the wealthiest

and powerful of organized
crime syndicates,

also the most corrupt.

In the '60s, the Yakuzas
first established

a beachhead into
America's underworld.

It was in the tropical
paradise of Hawaii

that the gang from the East

met their counterparts
from the West.

Yakuza members often
served American mobsters

when the Japanese were
working as kitchen help

in Hawaiian restaurants.

Like they say, the Japanese
are a patient people.

Three decades later, estimates
rate Yakuza investment

in American business
at $1 billion annually.

Now the Yakuza and the American
mob conduct joint ventures

to the gambling oasis of
Las Vegas or Atlantic City.

The Yakuza charters planes and
fills them with high rollers.

Once on American soil, the
mafia takes over the operation.

The mob provides luxury
accommodations, sex if desired,

supervises the action at the
tables, bankrolls the losers,

and sends enforcers
out to collect.

If a gambler makes it back
to Japan without paying up,

the Yakuza will be calling

on behalf of their
mafia partners.

The alliance between the
Yakuza and the US mafia

means that huge amounts of money

are streaming across the world,

secret funds that
might be supporting

the formation of a vast
criminal coalition.

What began as a terrifying plot

hatched on a tranquil
island in the Caribbean

is fast becoming a reality.

By merging their organizations,

international crime is
now a financial colossus

making an estimated
trillion dollars a year.

With such wealth, the
underworld has risen

into the realm of
legitimate commerce

positioned to
dominate the world.

What can be done to stop the
growth of this global menace?

From the past, we know
traditional methods are failing.

Judge Falcone finally
did get his man.

Two years after
Falcon's assassination,

The Beast was captured.

Tito Riina is now
serving a life sentence.

But today the Sicilian mafia
remains stronger than ever.

A few years after the
historic Aruba deal,

the celebrity coke king
Pablo Escobar was gunned down

while fleeing from police.

Today, the world's
appetite for coke

is still fed from
the deadly harvest

at the plantations of Medellin.

Johnny Galatalo was arrested
on narcotics smuggling charges.

Waldo Aponte's
whereabouts are unknown,

but the partnership
they brokered

between the Sicilian mafia and
Colombian cartels continues.

The Russian mob boss Ivankov

is currently serving
a 10-year sentence,

but Russian crooks say
an American prison term

is a vacation
compared to the Gulag.

The wannabe Russian mobster
did make his mark in a way.

Leonard Fainberg gave
names and testimony

against the Russian mafia

and is now under
federal protection.

Tarzan's a marked man,
and the Russian mafia's

deadly presence in
America continues to grow.

Obviously the solution to
prevent organized crime

from becoming a global power

lies not in the
methods of the past.

Today there are close to
200 nations in the world.

Each has its own
rights of sovereignty,

laws, and police restrictions.

But crime knows no boundaries.

Today, organized crime is
a shadow nation undivided.

Richard Ward is the
executive director

of the College of
Criminal Justice

at Sam Houston University
in Huntsville, Texas.

He is also an authority

on transnational
and organized crime.

We don't have an
international court,

criminal court, for example.

So there's no place to take
criminals, if you will.

So jurisdictions change.

One of the real problems

is the legal
definitions of crime.

What is a crime in one country

might not be a crime
in another country.

There isn't global law
enforcement. That's the problem.

And so therefore there
isn't an international

law enforcement
effort that is capable

of addressing this problem.

The United States is gearing
up to fight organized crime,

but they're dependent on dealing

with the law enforcement
of other countries.

And sometimes these crime groups

are committing their activities

in seven or eight different
countries simultaneously.

If the thought of
a global police force

or world court is
frightening, consider this.

Radioactive materials
continue to disappear

from nuclear arsenals
at an alarming rate.

No other substance has a greater
value on the black market.

Many experts say it is
only a matter of time

before an unholy union is formed

between organized crime
and a terrorist state.

Result, a global
menace that threatens

the security and safety of all.

Organized crime is an
outgrowth of a world

whose common history
is that of war,

violence, and bloodshed.

In the 20th century,
the worship of wealth

has reached a zenith

among the industrialized
nations of the world.

As long as societies
lust for power,

neglect the poor
and unfortunate, and
promote materialism,

organized crime, no matter
its origin and language,

will continue to
plunder the world,

enriching itself from our
own weakness and greed.

I'm Robert Stack.
Thanks for joining us.