Capone Bloodline

Capone was grateful to have brought his .45mm automatic pistol to the interview that Tuesday morning in June, 1973. His father had always told him to make sure he landed the first punch in a fight. In doing so his chances of coming out on top would be greatly enhanced. Upon entering the garage after his interview at the Sherwood Boston Hotel, Capone’s reaction to seeing a potential armed robber step out from behind a pillar, demand his money, and then brandish a firearm had come instinctively. There had been no time to weigh the pros and cons of taking him out; the man had already produced his weapon, making Capone’s decision for him. What might have happened, however, suddenly took a twist. Capone had pulled out his own weapon an instant too late, giving the robber a momentary edge. Prepared to kill during a robbery was apparently not beyond the young man’s forte. If that’s what it took, that’s what he’d do. Maybe it was complacency, or maybe it was stupidity, but the robber had neglected to disengage the safety on his weapon. In that instant Capone closed the distance between them, cold cocked him, and then had leaned down and given him a ‘booster shot’ by pistol whipping him to ensure he had closed his show. Now, as he looked down at the young man who lay at his feet, he felt his stomach begin to tighten. He could have simply pulled the trigger and killed this kid. He tried to calm himself by remembering that it had been an act of self-defense. He’d left the hotel and entered the garage, thinking only of getting in his car and heading home. The thought of someone robbing him at gunpoint hadn’t crossed his mind. But there he was; a twenty-something would-be armed robber laying face down, gun lying beside him. But for the robber’s oversight, that could have been Capone lying there. Who knew how many times he had robbed before? Having selected the wrong target, however, this time could also have been his last. In court it would have been a toss-up between self-defense and murder. As soon as the prosecution began researching the case and found out that "T-Bone Capone" was a direct descendant of the infamous Al Capone... The taste of bile formed a lump in his throat as he contemplated what might have been. He quickly checked the area to see if anyone had witnessed the incident. Suddenly, a white Lincoln came screeching around the corner, heading straight for him. T-Bone’s knee-jerk reaction was to assume this was the would-be robber’s accomplices. The getaway car was showing up to make sure it was a quick hit and a quick exit. Capone dove in between two parked cars just as the Lincoln’s front seat passenger fired several shots from a 9mm automatic. As soon as it was past him, T-Bone jumped over one of the parked cars just in time to see the Lincoln crash full-on into a retaining wall. Capone cautiously approached the car, hoping that a swarm of police didn’t come pouring into the garage. Despite his urge to get out of there, however, he couldn’t resist getting a look at the occupants of the Lincoln to see if he recognized them. He didn’t. What he did see was the car’s driver. He appeared to have been killed on impact, his head having been launched through the windshield with the steering wheel crushed hard against his chest, trapping him. On the passenger side it was clear the man was still alive, but not doing well. Under his breath, Capone uttered, “This could have been your last day, pal.” He pressed his .45 automatic against the man’s forehead, cocked the hammer, and said, “Click. You’re a lucky guy. I just don’t feel like killing anyone today.” The alarming realization of all the complications that hung in the balance prompted him to slip the .45 back in its holster. The additional realization that he had to move quickly before the gunshots drew visitors prompted him to head for the stairwell and down to his car. Almost killing someone wasn’t about to jeopardize his opportunity to enter what was awaiting him in Cleveland. There were those who might question his reasoning, but they hadn’t lived the life he had. The situation in the garage spoke for itself. Now it was time to vacate. So far the garage was still empty. He could thank the fifth floor parking level for that. It wouldn’t be for long though. Within three minutes he had run to his car and left the garage at a slow, rational rate of speed, carefully avoiding any undue attention. He drove the eighteen miles south on Route 3 back to the sleepy harbor town of Hingham, Massachusetts, which Eleanor Roosevelt had once declared, “The most beautiful main street in the world.” When the 6:00 news came on Boston’s WBZ, Channel 4, he watched it from beginning to end. He was relieved that nothing was mentioned that night; nor was it on any of the televised news, or radio stations; the incident had even escaped the papers. He knew that hotel Public Relations Departments did everything humanly possible to cover up bad press coverage in the interest of tourism in their immediate area. Capone didn’t mention it to anyone, nor would he ever.