Several years ago a two-bit self-admitted mob associate whom I knew in New York City allegedly arranged a murder-for-hire against me.
The individual had been employed as a barback in gay bars which he claimed were run by the Mafia, and later became involved with a supposedly mobbed-up tranny brothel which advertised in the back pages of The Village Voice. Indeed, I have documents establishing his expressly-acknowledged "off the books" employment ("$25 plus 15% of the tips" a night, and "a dollar off all drinks when I'm off duty") in 1997 at two specifically-named downtown gay watering holes which presumably involved violations of the tax and labor laws, and an April 13, 1997 letter by him which reveals a "fantasy" which hopefully always remained no more than that:
I do not understand certain things about myself -- for instance -- I like working at my sleep-away camp and I enjoy working with the kids. But I always feel uncomfortable around them when an authority figure is around. Its like I'm afraid that the authorities are gonna think that I'm some kinda pervert. But that is just me projecting my thoughts onto others. I don't know why but I think deep down I think I'm a perv. But I would never do anything to hurt a child -- I don't even have the desire. I think the youngest age I'd be attracted to is 14. But thats just like fantasy.
(Curiously, "would," "never" and "but" are among the "eight words that most liars use" according to lie detection expert Janine Driver.)
I had known him on and off during the late 1990s and into 2001 or 2002 but broke off contact after becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his gradual descent into the dark underbelly of gay culture. Apparently, my decision to cut him out of my life and my knowledge of his self-described mobbed-up livelihood was a combination which apparently drove him mad enough to want me dead.
For a couple of years I faced only intermittent harassment which I generally ignored although once or twice I filed a complaint with the NYPD when his behavior got out of hand. Eventually the harassment escalated to the point that it allegedly had infected my place of employment at Milberg Weiss -- a politically well-connected plaintiffs' class action law firm which was then having its own problems with federal prosecutors -- and resulted in the murder-for-hire contract.
I learned about the alleged plot from a class action lawyer from Chicago, IL who had invited me out to dinner on one of his business trips to New York City in February 2006. He uncomfortably told me over dinner on Feb. 22 that the threat had taken root about a year earlier, and since had been squashed through the intervention of a NYC class action lawyer with whom I was friendly.
Even though my life apparently had been saved I was livid upon learning the news, and wanted to bring the case to law enforcement. Indeed, on Feb. 26 I fired off an email to the attorney who had informed of the supposed plot in which I stated "wherever Andrew James Roffman is today -- his [alleged] mafia connections notwithstanding -- I hope that the feds get him." However, when I broached the topic with the lawyer who supposedly intervened on my behalf I was told in no uncertain terms to keep quiet. Indeed, his law partner who had self-admitted ties to the proverbial old neighborhood stated: "The mob may no longer own complete precincts but they still own some cops and prosecutors, and you can't just tell them f*ck you."
When I was stewing about the events to another attorney from the plaintiffs' class action bar he replied back to me in a May 24, 2006 email: "My choice is for you to walk away from this and I hope you stick to that path." He later warned me that if I took any legal action against the individual who allegedly put out the contract on my life he and those protecting him would make stuff up against me in a countersuit: "Making something up...yes that could happen because people do sh*t."
Frankly, I never understood why so many people seemingly wanted to protect an individual who allegedly took steps to see me dead, and I only can presume that he must have something on someone.