The following stories are re-enactments of true crime cases taken from the files of the Liberty City PD Mob Unit. These are true-to-life, raw and uncut tales of “Cops ‘n Crooks“, the Cops on the streets, trying to keep the peace and the Crooks who love to disturb it. The cases are real. Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.
5:30 PM- The call comes in hot over the wire. We’ve finally pinpointed the location of that mob boss piece of sh–, Don Moretti. Guy’s got a rap sheet long as your leg, everything from extortion and petty larceny to human trafficking and even the big ‘H’. I mean sure, we’ve been after this guy for a while now but we just couldn’t make anything stick. He made a fatal mistake though when he sent those goons of his to the D.A.’s son’s apartment to set him straight. Turns out the D.A.’s boy was getting wrapped up in some heavy sh–, owed the mob like 80 large behind a newfound gambling/coke habit.
They were only supposed to go in there, rough him up a bit, remind him why it’s important to pay your debts. But somewhere along the line everything went tits up and somebody royally screwed the pooch. It was the maid who found his body the next day. Two to the head, one to the heart. Double tap execution style hit. Talk about overkill.
Later that week we so happened to pull over one of the guys responsible. Just on a routine traffic stop, mind. We had no idea he was even the one. Our guy was only about to write him a citation for failure to yield but this f—’s convinced we’ve got him dead to rights. He starts giving up everybody: names, dates, faces, a real Colonel Mustard in the green house with the lead pipe kinda deal. You never heard a canary sing so sweet. Says he was only in it to rough the D.A.’s kid up; he’s got a kid himself and he just wanted to make sure he could afford his braces. He didn’t sign up to be a killer. Best part of all, he says Don Moretti set up the whole thing and he’s willing to testify to as much in court, in exchange for leniency.
So now we got that bastard Moretti right where we want him. Sweeten the pot, the D.A. informed us in not so many words he wouldn’t be too broken up about it if the don were unable to make his court date. After all, it’d be a shame if he were to wiggle out of the charges again. So looks like it’s heavy ordinance, full auto.
Game over, you fat f—.
Word on the street is Moretti’s looking to skip town so it’s no surprise that the N.O.O.S.E. team we sent to his estate out in Westdyke came up empty. Lucky for us one of the workers at the Globe Oil company spots him and a group of his men skulking around at one of their refineries. He couldn’t have been that hard to spot. Just look for the guy leaving the slime trail. Heh…
Johnson’s in the driver seat today so he throws on the lights and we speed towards the scene. Personally I wish he’d kill the big flashy display so’s we can sneak up to ‘em more discreet like, but Johnson’s always done things his own way. I set the GPS for him, right in that f— Moretti’s lap, see how he likes it. Don’t know what the hell’s gotten into Johnson today, though, because he completely disregards the GPS and takes his own route. One that adds a full 2 1/2 minutes to our travel time. Time we don’t have to spare when dealing with a possible escaping fugitive.
C’mon, c’mon. I say, tapping my lap impatiently with the fingers of my left hand, the right clenched tightly around my MP-10. It’s a seven man squad so in addition to us four there’s another car carrying three more guys which means we’re guaranteed to catch him. Well, I don’t want to get too cocky; word is Moretti’s got just as many shooters waiting on his end as we do ours. Heinman’s in the seat next to me and I see him getting antsy as all get out. Apparently he’s just as frustrated with Johnson’s sh—y driving as I am.
Well, maybe he’s more frustrated because he hauls off and jumps right out the car, while we’re doing almost 70. Crazy bastard survives it too. Instead of continuing on after the boss, Johnson stops the car and starts honking the horn at Heinman. Heinman could care less; he’s got the gun pointed at traffic and commandeers a soccer mom’s minivan. Guess he figured anything’s better than riding with a guy who’s got no idea what the hell he’s doing. Johnson’s still right behind him, leaning on the horn like he’d all but forgotten why the hell we were even out here.
Oh for Chris’sake, this is ridiculous. I don’t know what the hell Johnson’s deal is but I bail on him just like Heinman and we both locate new cars. Guess he takes the hint because he finally speeds off again, sirens blaring. By the time I make it to Globe Oil Moretti’s already fled the scene.
The backup car manages to catch up with two of his henchman though, right as they’re trying to climb into a jet black Cavalcade FXT inside a small gated parking lot. Our guys rain down a hail of bullets on the SUV, wasting both of them. I notice another brown car pull up and inside is our 4th man, Peters. Guess he finally got tired of Johnson’s driving too. He pulls up to the dark black SUV and empties another clip into it, just to make sure they’re dead. He wastes too much time. Another goomba comes up out of nowhere and pops him right in the temple. He’s dead before the gob of spittle at the tip of his lip hits the steering wheel.
Nothing I can do for him now so I speed off, letting off a few shots at the Guinea f— who plugged him, vowing to myself to come back and take out the trash once I’m done with Moretti. I come up on two more of his guys in a gray Admiral sedan. Now there is something I can do about them. I ram them hard from behind in my Merit, letting off a spray of bullets. They return fire, even tag me a few times. Heinman comes up in his soccer mom car and opens fire on them too.
Sure, he looks ridiculous but we get the job done. Well, apparently he gets the job done because I found out later that ballistics traced both the bullets that killed them back to his gun, meaning that pr–k got credit for both kills. How do you like that; I’m sitting here doing all the work, he steps in and gets all the glory.
To hell with this, I gotta find the boss. Doesn’t take too long either, because up ahead I see a couple big explosions. I make it to the scene and our guys have got Moretti pinned down in a beat up old Futo. Looks like the boss has gotten his mitts on a couple hand grenades. Can’t aim them for sh– though as he only manages to take out a couple parked cars before our boys plug him. I’m too late to get a piece of the don; that honor goes to the psychos in car two but I do waste one of his boys just as he’s capping another one of ours.
“The boss has been taken out.” the voice comes in over the radio. “Good job, boys.”
I look back on it now and it’s kinda funny. Well, not funny ha-ha but funny… Well, you know. It’s just like that poem, ol’ Whatshisface, Ozymandingo or whatever. He built up this huge empire, thinking it’d last forever then one day it all just dries up and blows away. Guy lives his whole life in luxury: expensive homes, expensive suits, expensive cars, expensive planes, expensive yachts. But when it’s all said and done this is how he ends up, shot to death in an old dirty sedan on an old dirty street in Alderney.
Burn in hell, you guinea bastard.
Special thanks to PAFreakFlorian on YouTube, whose awesome “Cops ‘n Crooks Fun n’ Fails” video series should have ten times as many hits as they do now and from which most of these gameplay images come from. Seriously, check these things out, they’re great.
When not writing articles like this one, Darron is busy being the Monroe Pop Culture Examiner on behalf of Examiner.com. For more of his work kindly direct your attention here.