John Franzese Jr.’s life story is a stark narrative of descent into darkness and a precarious climb toward redemption. Born into the infamous Colombo crime family, and the son of notorious underboss Sonny Franzese, John Jr. was destined for a life entangled with organized crime. However, his path diverged dramatically, marked by a harrowing struggle with addiction, homelessness, and ultimately, a controversial turn as an FBI informant. This is the gripping account of John Franzese Jr.’s tumultuous journey.
John’s early exposure to the brutal realities of his family’s “business” set a dangerous stage for his future. In an incident that foreshadowed his troubled trajectory, John found himself on the brink of a mob hit orchestrated by his own Colombo associates. As John recounts, the Colombos lured him to a near-empty private club, a classic setup for a “one-way ride.” Fate intervened in the form of a cousin who unexpectedly walked in and recognized the perilous situation. This cousin, with a chillingly clear message, steered John away from the club and his impending doom: “There’s nothing your father’s going to be able to do for you. It’s over. Stay away from us.” This rejection marked the beginning of John’s devastating spiral.
The years that followed were a relentless plunge into homelessness and addiction. Years of intravenous cocaine use ravaged his body, leaving his arms a canvas of rainbow-colored bruises and leading to an HIV diagnosis. Clad in garbage bags for shoes, he became a spectral figure haunting Queens Boulevard, his mind fractured by delusion. He saw phone booths as “portals” to a world of family and friends that was now distant and estranged. To feed his crack cocaine addiction, which cost $12 a vial, John resorted to desperate measures: petty robberies, scavenging discarded cigarettes, and engaging in sex work.
A turning point, albeit initially unwelcome, came in 1995 when John was arrested for carrying an unlicensed firearm. His nine-month jail stint provided an enforced period of sobriety, a stark contrast to his chaotic street life. Shortly after his release, a message on his answering machine signaled an unexpected and life-altering encounter. The caller was Rob Lewicki, an FBI agent deeply embedded in New York’s organized crime investigations, particularly focused on the Colombo family. “Hey, Johnny Boy,” Lewicki’s message began, “Give me a call.”
The Franzese family was no stranger to Rob Lewicki. The FBI agent had been a persistent presence in their lives for years, openly investigating Sonny Franzese. Their relationship was a peculiar mix of antagonism and a strange sort of professional courtesy. Sonny himself acknowledged the dynamic with a pragmatic outlook: “We’re hoodlums, they’re cops. If they catch you, that’s on you.” Lewicki’s routine calls to members of the Franzese circle were part of his strategy to cultivate rapport and seek potential informants. Typically, these calls were met with polite refusals and swift hang-ups, reflecting the family’s fierce loyalty to Sonny, who had by then ascended to the position of underboss within the Colombo crime family, effectively running the organization amidst internal power struggles and violence known as the Third Colombo War.
However, Lewicki’s persistence with John was different, calculated. He recognized John’s vulnerability – a desperate, isolated figure with nothing left to lose. Both men shared a Long Island North Shore upbringing, close in age, having grown up in the same neighborhoods, even sharing similar youthful experiences. “John, listen,” Lewicki pressed, “I think it’d be good for you to hear what I have to say. Let’s pick a place.”
Their meeting took place on a secluded park bench in Roslyn. Unbeknownst to John, Lewicki was wired, his conversation being recorded by nearby undercover agents. After initial pleasantries, Lewicki cut to the chase. He laid bare the reality of John’s desperate situation and presented an offer. “John, it pays to have a friend in the FBI,” Lewicki began, proposing monthly payments in exchange for cooperation.
While the money was appealing, John states that the real leverage was Lewicki’s veiled suggestion that John’s cooperation could potentially alleviate legal pressure on his parents. Sonny was frequently incarcerated for parole violations, and Tina, John’s mother, was under suspicion for credit card fraud. Lewicki believed John’s motivations were complex, a mix of self-interest and familial concern. John, however, maintains his intentions were purely to protect his parents, despite his own conflicted emotions.
“Is there any way you can guarantee that my dad won’t go back to jail?” John asked, his concern palpable.
Lewicki’s reply was conditional: “Your dad would have to cooperate.”
John dismissed this instantly, “You can forget that.”
Lewicki clarified, shifting the focus, “Your dad’s not the target. The target is the Colombos. I’ll try and avoid asking you direct questions about your father. When you hear things that your dad tells you, I need to know that stuff. But I’ll shield you.”
With a mix of resignation and perhaps a glimmer of hope, John agreed, “All right. Let’s do it.”
John proceeded to divulge the intricate workings of his family’s criminal enterprise and their various scams. His detailed knowledge and relatable demeanor fostered an unusual dynamic, a conditional friendship with the FBI agent. However, Lewicki laid down a strict condition: “If at any time we find out you’re using drugs, this stops immediately.”
Months later, John relapsed, spiraling back into his old habits. His desperation reached new lows, even resorting to consuming bottles of Tabasco sauce for cash. Lewicki, true to his word, ended the arrangement. “We’re done,” he declared.
The ensuing three years were a period of further degradation for John. He stole jewelry from his family, consumed cologne in his addiction, and cycled through rehabs and detox facilities. His self-destructive path caused immense pain to his family, particularly his father. Sonny, witnessing his son’s decline, would express his anguish: “This fucking guy, he’s killing himself one hour at a time.” In a poignant moment, after John stole $11,000 from a safety deposit box, he was confronted by Sonny. Instead of anger, Sonny pleaded, “Please don’t run. I don’t care about the money.” But John, lost in his addiction, fled.
By 2001, physically and emotionally broken, John was on his mother’s couch, convinced he was dying from AIDS-related pneumonia. It was then that his brother Michael, who had dramatically transformed his own life, reappeared. “When you get better,” Michael said to John, “I want you to come visit me.” Michael, once a high-ranking capo in the Colombo family, had undergone a profound conversion, finding religion and leaving the Mafia in the mid-90s. He had become a motivational speaker and author, a stark contrast to his previous life. This invitation from Michael offered John a potential lifeline, a chance to witness a path of redemption that was seemingly unimaginable within the Franzese family’s legacy.
John’s story is a complex tapestry of familial loyalty, criminal enterprise, devastating addiction, and the possibility, however fragile, of redemption. His journey from a “made” member’s son to a government informant is a chilling illustration of the destructive power of organized crime and the arduous path to personal recovery.
