It’s a movie that appeared 32 years ago–making it, for those born in 2000, an oldie. And it wasn’t a blockbuster, being yanked out of theaters almost as soon as it arrived.
Yet “Prince of the City” (1981) remains that rarity–a movie about big-city police that
- Tells a dramatic (and true) story, and
- Offers serious truths for those who want to know how police and prosecutorial bureaucracies really operate.
It’s based on the real-life case of NYPD Detective Robert Leuci (“Danny Ciello” in the film).
Robert Leuci
A member of the elite Special Investigating Unit (SIU) Ciello (played by Treat Williams) volunteers to work undercover against rampant corruption among narcotics agents, attorneys and bail bondsmen.
His motive appears simple: To redeem himself and the NYPD from the corruption he sees everywhere: “These people we take from own us.”
His only condition: “I will never betray cops who’ve been my partners.”
Assistant US Attorney Rick Cappalino assures Ciello: “We’ll never make you do something you can’t live with.”
As the almost three-hour movie unfolds, Ciello finds–to his growing dismay–that there are a great many things he will have to learn to live with.
Although he doesn’t have a hand in it, he’s appalled to learn that Gino Moscone, a former buddy, is going to be arrested for taking bribes from drug dealers.
Confronted by a high-ranking agent for the Drug Enforcement Agency, Moscone refuses to “rat out” his buddies.
Instead, he puts his service revolver to his head and blows out his brains.
Ciello is devastated, but the investigation–and film–must go on.
Along the way, he’s suspected by a corrupt cop and bail bondsman of being a “rat” and threatened with death. He’s about to be wasted in a back alley when his cousin–a Mafia member–suddenly intervenes.
The Mafioso tells Ciello’s would-be killers: “You’d better be sure he’s a rat, because people like him.”
At which point, the grotesquely fat bail bondsman–who has been demanding Ciello’s execution–pats Danny on the arm and says, “No hard feelings.”
It is director Sidney Lumet’s way of graphically saying: “Sometimes the bad guys can be good guys–and the good guys can be bad guys.”
Lumet makes it clear that police don’t always operate with the Godlike perfection of cops in TV and films. It’s precisely because his Federal backup agents lost him that Ciello almost became a casualty.
In the end, Ciello becomes a victim of the prosecutorial forces he has unleashed. Although he’s vowed to never testify against his former partners, Ciello finds this a promise he can’t keep.
Too many of the cops he’s responsible for indicting have implicated him of similar–if not worse–behavior.
He’s even suspected of being involved in the theft of 450 pounds of heroin (“the French Connection”) from the police property room.
A sympathetic prosecutor–Mario Vincente in the movie, Rudolph Giuliani in real-life–convinces Ciello that he must finally reveal everything he knows.
Ciello’s had originally claimed to have done “three things” as a corrupt narcotics agent. By the time his true confessions are over, he’s admitted to scores of felonies.
Ciello then tries to convince his longtime SIU partners to do the same.
One of them commits suicide. Another tells Ciello to screw himself: “I’m not going to shoot myself and I’m not going to rat out my friends.”
To his surprise, Ciello finds himself admiring his corrupt former partner for being willing to stand up to the Federal case-agents and prosecutors demanding his head.
The movie ends with a double dose of irony.
First: Armed with Ciello’s confessions, an attorney whom Ciello had successfully testified against appeals his conviction. But the judge rules these to be “collateral,” apart from the main evidence in the case, and affirms the conviction.
Second: Ciello is himself placed on trial–of a sort. A large group of assistant U.S. attorneys gathers to debate whether their prize “canary” should be indicted.
If he is, his confessions will ensure his conviction.
Some prosecutors argue forcefully that Ciello is a corrupt law enforcement officer who has admitted to more than 40 cases of perjury–among other crimes. How can the government use him to convict others and not address the criminality in his own past?
Other prosecutors argue that Ciello voluntarily risked his life–physically and professionally–to expose rampant police corruption. He deserves a better deal than to be cast aside by those who have made so many cases through his testimony.
Eventually, the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York makes his decision: “The government declines to prosecute Detective Daniel Ciello.”
It is Lumet’s way of showing that the decision to prosecute is not always an easy or objective one.
The movie ends with Ciello now teaching surveillance classes at the NYPD Academy. A student asks: “Are you the Detective Ciello?”
“I’m Detective Ciello.”
“I don’t think I have anything to learn from you.”
Is Danny Ciello–again, Robert Leuci in real-life–a hero, a villain, or some combination of the two? It is with this ambiguity that the film ends–an ambiguity that each viewer must resolve for himself.
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GOOD INTENTIONS, DISASTROUS RESULTS: PART ONE (OF TWO)
In Bureaucracy, History, Military, Politics, Social commentary on May 8, 2014 at 1:00 am“Bring back our girls!”
It’s become a rallying cry among Nigerians–and among do-gooder Americans.
On April 15, nearly 300 teenage girls were kidnapped from a Nigerian school by Boko Haram, an Islamist terrorist group that has ties to Al Qaeda.
Its leader, Abubakar Shekau, claimed responsibility for the abudctions and threatened to sell the girls.
He also warned that Boko Haram would attack other schools and kidnap more girls.
Boko Haram means: “Western education is sinful.”
Abubakar Shekau
Fifty-three of the girls managed to escape; 276 remain in captivity.
It didn’t take long for Americans to thrust themselves into yet another role as World Policeman:
Protest at Nigerian Embassy in Washington, D.C.
Abubakar Shekau, the leader of Boko Haram, didn’t waste time reacting.
On May 5, in a clip released online, he declared war on the West.
Echoing President George W. Bush’s famous statement–“Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists”–Shekau warned:
“Either you are with us … or you are with Obama! [French President] Francois Hollande! George Bush. Bush! Clinton!”
Pausing briefly, he added: “Abraham Lincoln!”
Most Americans have little interest in foreign affairs–and thus short memories for international events. So few now remember another well-intentioned effort that failed miserably in Africa almost 21 years ago.
Like the “Save our girls!” affair, it, too, started as a humanitarian gesture.
In 1992, civil war and famine gripped Somalia, resulting in over 300,000 civilian deaths.
Mogadishu, the capital of Somalia, was the most dangerous city in the world.
Fourteen armed militas, each led by its own warlord, were fighting to dominate Somalia. Teenage gunmen, high on a narcotic called quat, spread terror in their “technicals”–pick-up trucks equipped with heavy machine guns.
“I was overwhelmed. I’d never seen anything like it,” recalled Khalil Dale, a Red Cross worker. “There were bodies of people who had died of starvation.
“There were people with gunshot wounds. There were young children, women, just lying, waiting to die, really emaciated. and there would be mounds of dead bodies waiting to be buried. We were doing 300 or 400 a day.”
In late 1992, President George H.W. Bush launched a massive humanitarian mission to help feed the starving people of Somalia.
He ordered 25,000 troops into Somalia to carry out Operation Restore Hope.
Bush had been defeated for a second term by former Arkansas Governor Bill Clinton. Sending Americans into Somalia was the last major effort of his Presidency.
Addressing the American people from the Oval Office, Bush declared:
“Every American has seen the shocking images from Somalia. The scope of suffering there is hard to imagine.
“Only the United States has the global reach to place a large security force on the ground in such a distant place quickly and efficiently and thus save thousands of innocents from death.”
President George H.W. Bush addressing the nation
Americans–who like to think of themselves as international saviors instead of aggressors–applauded Bush’s action.
Then they turned their attention to more immediate concerns–such as the failing economy.
At first, all seemed to be going well
But then what began as a humanitarian mission turned into a nation-building one.
On January 20, 1993, Bill Clinton took office as President.
Mohammed Farrah Aidid, the most powerful of Somalia’s warlords, ruled Mogadishu. At Somali ports, his militias seized international food shipments intended to relieve starvation.
Food became his weapon–to be doled out to his supporters, and denied to everyone else.
A force of 20,000 United States Marines backed up the United Nations relief effort. Somalis started receiving food and a sense of order was restored.
Aidid waited until the Marines withdrew–in April, 1993–and then declared war on the small remaining force of U.N. peacekeepers.
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