Melbourne lawyer Joe Acquaro knew life in danger but feared nothing prior to Brunswick East hit
WHEN I saw Joe Acquaro less than a week ago, he showed the signs of a man under stress. He had long ago plucked out all the hair from his arms and had lost weight, writes Anthony Dowsley.
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JOE Acquaro knew his life was in danger.
When I saw him less than a week ago at his regular CBD restaurant, Nick’s Spaghetti Bar, he showed the signs of a man under stress.
He had long ago plucked out all the hair from his arms and had lost weight.
He had even shorn his silver locks to change his appearance — just in case.
As he sipped minestrone soup — a favourite dish — he would speak only of his family life, which had fallen apart.
Pino, as he was known, exchanged friendly banter in Italian with the waiters, who all knew him by name — no real surprise given that his legal firm, Acquaro & Co, was just next door.
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But he knew he had few real friends left.
Some of the colour had returned to his face this year. A few months earlier, he had been defiant when telling the Herald Sun: “I fear nothing.’’
But living with a contract on his life had isolated him.
His rift with the Madafferi clan had left him fighting a lone battle, so he threw himself into his work.
Mr Acquaro had poured more than $800,000 into Lygon St’s popular Gelobar and spent his days between his law firm and the cafe bar.
He spoke of plans to extend, not only upstairs but by buying the property next door.
The consigliore, or adviser, to the mafia on legal matters had always fought hard for his clients. But his career as a lawyer was giving way to his love for the restaurant business.
But even his gelato business was a source of conflict.
At least one of his children, with whom he had also fallen out over the Madafferi dispute and family matters, had set up a rival gelato operation.
According to some in the Italian community, Pino had been the “chosen one’’ even before he went to law school.
When Pino was just 17, working as a waiter for his father, the then head of Melbourne’s Honoured Society told him he would be a lawyer, and would work for the Italian community. By age 33, Mr Acquaro was running cases.
He was a key link in the Italian Honoured Society chain — and not only for mafia figures charged with murder and other crimes.
But he never spoke about clients, some of whom he had set up in profitable businesses.
The highly connected Pino negotiated fishing territory rights for Australian-based but Italian-owned companies off the coast of Antarctica.
He became the youngest president of the Italian chamber of commerce. The chapter, under his presidency, became the world’s third largest.
Then, the influential Calabrian businessman Tony Madafferi needed a favour.
His brother, Frank, on a residency visa, faced deportation over his criminal record in Italy and his poor character.
For years, the legal wrangling would rage. The then Howard government immigration minister Philip Ruddock rejected appeals and was set to send him home.
But Mr Acquaro fought his case all the way to the United Nations, even getting his record in Italy expunged.
Tony, a Liberal donor, also pleaded Frank’s case with the next immigration minister, Amanda Vanstone, who eventually allowed the younger brother to stay on “compassionate’’ grounds.
Frank Madafferi would not take advantage of his chance.
The Madafferis, firmly entrenched in Melbourne’s fruit market, were aggressively building their empire.
That empire would extend to other businesses, such as restaurant chain La Porchetta.
But the ambitious Frank then became embroiled in the world’s largest ecstasy importation. The Australian Federal Police had come across $440 million worth of tablets hidden in tomato cans, seized the cache, replaced the pills and tracked the cargo.
A plan to bust the container out of the docks in a truck was at one stage on the cards. Organised crime figure John Higgs was enlisted along with a known drug lord with docks connections.
Meanwhile, the alleged “brains’’ of the operation, Griffith-based Mafia figure Pat Barbaro, fought to be spared his life during a trip to Italy.
To pay off the debt to the Italian “godfathers’’, there were demands that more drugs must be sold.
But the syndicate would be busted and Madafferi, Barbaro and the rest were charged. Still, facing years behind bars, Frank Madafferi was greedy.
He stood over the man who had fought for him to stay in Australia — Mr Acquaro.
He refused to pay for Mr Acquaro’s legal representation in the case and demanded a share of his fledgling Gelobar business.
While Mr Acquaro fought back, eventually flooring Madafferi in a brawl in the ice cream restaurant, the ruthless criminal convinced his sons to turn against their father.
There were also reports from within the mafia that Mr Acquaro had been talking out of school.
There would be talk of extortion attempts against some of his relatives, a drive-by shooting of a friend’s restaurant and ultimately the contract on his life.
At first it was for $200,000. But there were murmurs that the sum was raised because there were no takers.
Today, after Mr Acquaro had worked past midnight at the restaurant he cherished, there was one.