The Carmelo Romano's Caper

 

This is a true story. I changed some names, but the facts are correct. Everything happened in the 1980s, when most of today’s technology did not exist. Investigators and individuals affected by Carmelo Romano’s caper completed the facts I narrate here.

Around 1984, I, Carlos Ferrero, worked in Valencia, Venezuela, as a public translator from English into Spanish and vice versa for many legal documents. One afternoon, my friend, Roberto Almeda, a criminal attorney, contacted me. I owed him a favor. He asked me if I would translate a power of attorney into English. I agreed, and he sent me the document.

The document named Carmelo Romano as the principal and Roberto as attorney-in-fact. It gave Roberto unlimited authority to dispose of Mr. Romano’s assets. The rights granted to my friend astonished me; he could do anything he considered necessary.

Some days later, Roberto asked me if I would go with him to New York as a translator. He did not speak, write, or understand any English. His client, Romano, would pay for my travel, hotel, and food expenses, plus my daily fees. I agreed, and he said that he would tell me the date of departure later. I reminded him of my prohibition to exit Venezuela because of a legal action in which he acted as my defense lawyer. He explained we would not be leaving from an international airport. We would fly from Valencia’s airfield by private plane to San Antonio, close to the border with Colombia. From there, we would ride in a taxi to Cucuta, in Colombia. Traffic was unrestricted at the border. Citizens from both countries shopped unchallenged 50 kilometers from the boundary line. In Cucuta, we would catch a Colombian passenger airplane to Bogota. From there, Carmelo would travel to Madrid, and we would continue to NY.

I translated his second power of attorney. It allowed him complete freedom to manage Mr. Romano’s Chase Manhattan Bank account.

On the date of the flight, a friend drove me to the Valencia airfield, and I met Roberto. He introduced me to the two private pilots who shared the trip. The aircraft, a Beechcraft Baron G58. Our client arrived in a taxi. He seemed about 40 years of age and stood five-ten. He wore an elegant, light flannel suit and sported a gold Rolex. His sunburned, olive-toned skin reminded me of a southern Italian friend. A serious, business-minded mien and a square jaw impressed me as an authoritative person. Roberto spoke briefly to him, and we boarded the craft.

Romano did not talk to anyone during our journey. I told my friend that I enjoyed flying out this way, but why is it necessary to leave the country through Cucuta? Roberto told me his client did not want to depart from an international airport. His recent activities included smuggling valuable wristwatches from Colombia to Venezuela. A customs official helped him to pass the loot undetected. One day, at El Dorado Airport in Bogota, someone tipped him off Venezuelan police were waiting for him at Maiquetía Airport. On his arrival, he abandoned a satchel full of watches and fled to Caracas. The people entrusting him with the smuggled goods wanted to see him. Traveling to Spain signified avoiding them. Roberto would get money from his account at the Chase Manhattan Bank to pay them for losing the suitcase. Romano experienced issues with the US Internal Revenue Service. As soon as he entered American soil, they would arrest him. Granting the second power to Roberto Almeda circumvented this circumstance.

Doubt entered my mind regarding the entire venture. What role did the two pilots have? I reflected that if Romano paid my expenses and fees, everything would be okay. Roberto refused involvement in illicit activities. He urged me not to ask questions of his client.

“Understood. I will not even talk to your client. But I have one question for you. Why does he cover travel expenses for those pilots? I asked.

“Carlos, frankly, I do not know. They are his friends. Carmelo has said nothing about them.” He Replied.

My imagination did flips. It was possible they were going to get a plane in Spain. A transatlantic trip needed two pilots.

We landed in San Antonio and took a taxi to Cucuta. The trip to Bogota was uneventful. On arrival, we checked our airline reservations. We could not get flights to NY for Roberto and me. However, Mr. Romano and the two pilots found an airline ticket to Madrid easily. Roberto was anxious until I discovered that Mr. Romano’s flight possessed many unoccupied seats and halted in Puerto Rico. My friend was very relieved when I explained to him that we could travel on the same plane as far as San Juan. New York became accessible from that point.

Roberto told me that Mr. Romano cautioned him to avoid contacts in New York, among them a lawyer named Kaplan. He gave him a key to a safe-deposit box, which held cash, jewelry, and expensive watches. Subsequently, I inquired of Roberto which financial institution contained the box for the key. He said it was the Barnett Bank.

“Roberto, I lived long in the States. I worked with the Citizens and Southern Bank of Atlanta and Savannah. The Barnett is not national; it is a state bank in Florida. No other state contains this entity’s branches. I told him.

“Really? That is strange. Mr. Romano gave me the address of the bank. We will make sure tomorrow.”

We arrived in New York on a Saturday. As soon as we got up on Sunday, I took Roberto to the subway to check the address Romano gave him. The address was far uptown, nowhere near the Manhattan Financial District. At that address, we found an architectural museum. I could tell Roberto was nervous. When we returned, we received a telephone call from a woman. She asked us if we were friends of Carmelo Romano. I hung up and told Roberto that we should change hotels at once. We paid our hotel bill and left without sleeping in the room. We did not give a forwarding address. Later we got a room in a Howard Johnson’s. Roberto called Romano at the Luzon Hotel in Madrid. He said that sometimes escorts and prostitutes call new arrivals and that we should not worry. Shortly thereafter, another phone call arrived, and we deduced Romano had passed our new address to the caller. We called the front desk and told them not to tell anyone, except the police, that we were staying at the hotel. On Monday, we went to the offices of Chase Manhattan Bank and presented Roberto’s power of attorney to one of its executives. The executive asked us to wait at the office for special accounts. After half an hour, he reappeared with another bank officer. They seemed perplexed. Carmelo Romano was not a customer of their bank. When I relayed this information to Roberto, he flinched. He walked out of the bank like a zombie. Again, my imagination played tricks on me. I thought the safe-deposit box key was a dangerous thing. We may get a visit from some tough wanting the key.

Herein lie teachings I gained from others. I cannot vouch for the truthfulness of what they told me, but their story fits well into the puzzle. While we were in New York, Carmelo visited Francisco Jaimes, the owner of a large industrial lot in an industrial zone next to Madrid. He arrived at the owner’s office in a gray Bentley limousine driven by one of the two pilots who traveled with us, dressed in a blue uniform. He made an offer to buy the lot for 9 million dollars. The man mentioned that a real estate firm had presented him with a ten-million-dollar offer already. A representative of the prospective buyer told him that they would buy his property next month. Carmelo insisted, saying he would pay 10 million in three days. To bind the purchase, he offered to sign a call option for 300,000 US$ valid for 48 hours. If Carmelo did not purchase within 48 hours, the owner of the lot would collect the sum from Carmelo’s funds with Bank X. Carmelo said he had not opened the account yet.

(I do not want to use the real name of the Spanish bank and called it “Bank X”).

Before seeing the owner of the plot, he directed one pilot to phone the manager of Banco X. Carmelo’s “private assistant” spoke with Cristina, the executive secretary of the Director. She later reported that someone claiming to be Mr. Romano’s agent telephoned her to schedule an interview. She said the caller told her that Mr. Romano, a Venezuelan, wanted to see her boss about an investment of 12 million dollars. Later, Mr. Francisco Jaimes called the bank and spoke to Cristina. The transaction for his lot's purchase now felt secure to him. There was no doubt concerning Mr. Romano’s intentions.

The appointment at Banco X was in the early morning. Carmelo explained to the director that the funds for the investment would arrive from Banco de Valencia. The person to speak with at that bank was Mr. Villanueva. He also explained that his brother in Caracas would send him a transfer for US$ 350,000 to cover the call option for US$ 300,000 that he entered for an industrial lot in the Madrid area from Francisco Jaimes. The transfer would arrive in the afternoon. Carmelo invited the director to a Barajas Airport restaurant. They passed near the area of private executive jets, and Carmelo pointed out a Cessna Citation and told the director it was his private plane. Later, when returning to the bank, he introduced the pilot of the Citation. The US$350,000 transfer arrived in the afternoon, but the name of the beneficiary was wrong. It read “Antonio Romano.” Carmelo became frantic, fell on the floor, and threw up in front of the bank director’s desk. He said it would take 24 hours to get a transfer. He would lose the chance to buy the industrial lot. The settlement of the call option presented little trouble. He would lose the opportunity of getting land that he knew would double its value in a month. The director requested Carmelo wait within the designated room. He made several phone calls. Mr. Villanueva of Banco Valencia informed him that Carmelo planned to deposit 12 million dollars in his bank from an account with Chase Manhattan Bank in New York. Further, Mr. Carmelo’s attorney journeyed to New York, a translator in tow. He gave the director the phones from Roberto Almeda’s office and Carlos Ferrero’s office. The director called these offices and received assurances that confirmed what Mr. Villanova had told him.

The Director deposited US$ 350,000 in an account in favor of Carmelo Romano.

Francisco Jaimes called the director the following morning. He could not find Mr. Romano. The Luzon Hotel Registry told him he would be in soon. He recently went to get his laundry. As the hours passed, they found the following facts out.

A. Mr. Romano never returned to his suite. He left behind an expensive, brand-new leather luggage set that he had not paid for.

B. He transferred US$ 335,000 to a Cayman Islands bank. He had withdrawn 4,000 cash, sent $ 1,500 to a woman in Valencia, Venezuela, and left $500 in the account.

C. The hotel laundry manager said that Mr. Romano claimed his clean clothes because he needed them for a trip to Barcelona. He put them into a brand-new bag and disappeared, rushing.

Police later discovered that Mr. Romano had traveled to a country with no extradition treaty with Spain. The luggage store repossessed the merchandise, minus one suitcase. The hotel and meal expenses for Romano and his guests went unpaid. Mr. Jaimes stated that someone had fabricated the second purchase offer. When he called the real estate agency, they told him none of their executives had contacted him.

We knew nothing of the events in Spain. Roberto asked me to find the Kaplan lawyer. We searched for the Manhattan phone book and did not find him. My friend was hesitating, but I accompanied him to the New York Public Library at Fifth Avenue and 42nd. After following their regulations, we consulted Martindale-Hubbell’s Directory of Lawyers. We found Mr. Kaplan’s address in Garden City. We scheduled an appointment to see him about Romano. He consented but was not glad to meet us and told us to avoid Carmelo. He did not provide any details but was very firm about it. I was concerned about the safe-deposit box key. I asked him if our lives were in danger. He laughed and said,

“No peril. It is fun to visit the Big Apple at this time of the year. Enjoy your stay.”

We took the Amtrak back. Roberto flipped the key out the window.

When we got back to Valencia, Villanueva at Banco Valencia updated us. Carmelo Romano paid for the Maiella travel agency on a Saturday afternoon with a bum check. He additionally struck a deal with the proprietor of a dwelling in Ciudad Alianza to purchase it for a sum of twenty percent beyond what the proprietor had expected. Then, Mr. Romano visited La Liberal furniture store and ordered a full set of furniture for the house. The golden Rolex, the beautiful Jaguar sports car he drove, and his grandiose gestures impressed everyone. A lady with a child moved into the fully furnished house and promptly left it when Banco Valencia called her. She was the beneficiary of a transfer for US$1,500. The owner of the house and La Liberal tried to find her to ask about Mr. Romano, but she disappeared after collecting her transfer.

I noticed that our travel expenses had a ten percent surplus, so I contacted the Maiella travel agency to tell them they had not lost the entire amount. They received me as if I were Mr. Romano’s accomplice. One man tried to hit me, and I lifted him and pushed him against a wall. I told him I had no connection to Mr. Romano’s scheme. Then the agency’s owner, an elderly man, grabbed me from behind and bit my back. I overpowered both men, pushed them away, and ran out of the agency. Many people in town still believe I was involved in Carmelo’s caper.

Roberto was furious. It was impossible for him to acknowledge that Carmelo had tricked him. He had a reputation for being a sharp criminal attorney. The whole affair was a blot on it. He found the Jaguar sports car abandoned in a garage. Carmelo got the car in Caracas for a test drive.