Under the Knife: A Beautiful Woman, a Phony Doctor, and a Shocking Homicide (15 page)

Soon after the party, Dean’s neighbors came to the rescue in a more tangible way. A potluck supper morphed into a home improvement project. Neighbors spackled walls, painted trim, repaired cracks in the sidewalk and
the basement walls and tackled problems in every corner of the house. Greg spent thousands of dollars out of his own pocket financing the repairs. He also prepared dinner every night for their battalion of helpers.

One of the more energetic supporters was Mark Ritchey, who lived a couple of blocks away. To Greg, Mark was a godsend. No one worked harder or spent longer hours laboring at the house night after night and weekend after weekend.

Mark had a neighborhood reputation for hyperbole and self-aggrandizement and his appearance was off-putting to some. His body was a walking tattoo parlor; his face reminded one neighbor of Satan himself. Greg passed the negative comments off as idle gossip. He thought that Mark worked on the house out of the goodness of his heart—that he volunteered his services as a good friend. Greg did not know that Dean was paying Mark for every minute of his time with the money Dean made from his surreptitious treatment of patients.

Dean put the house on the market with an asking price of $450,000. Thanks to the efforts of an energetic and determined neighborhood crew, Dean sold the house in record time for $423,000. They set a closing date for the spring. The buyer got a bargain—in 2005, county tax assessors valued the home at $496,600.

The buyer did not purchase the house without strings attached, though. A number of contingencies were placed on the sale. At lot of work needed to be done on the premises before the closing date.

Greg prepared to invest additional funds in the house to ensure that the sale would be finalized at the price stated. He wanted a guarantee, however, that he would be paid. He suggested that he put a lien on the house so that he would be the first debtor compensated after the bank loan balance was satisfied. Dean and Debra objected,
convincing Greg that a lien could muck up the title transfer. Not wanting to cause any problems, he dropped that idea and obtained an attorney-drafted promissory note instead.

He did not know it at the time, but the mere suggestion of a lien angered Debra. He planted a seed of animosity and suspicion in Dean’s sister’s mind, one that would sprout into a major problem for Greg in the months to come.

WHILE GREG DUG HIMSELF A DEEPER HOLE, THE ATTORNEY
general’s office was doing the same for Dean. They worked at a fiery pace to solidify their case against the phony doctor. In addition to the evidence compiled by the three investigators from the state department of education, they had information gathered by their own investigators during the previous summer. They also had former patients of Dean’s—including Sandra Corinthian, who suffered severe scarring from a tattoo removal—ready to testify against him.

They convened a special grand jury to review the charges in the case against Dean Faiello. On November 19, they issued a twenty-count indictment affirming the arraignment charges of three counts of assault in the second degree against Sandra Corinthian and seventeen counts of the unauthorized practice of medicine—one each for visits with undercover investigators Kathy Hearn, Tonya Holder and Ariana Miller and fourteen counts for his treatment of patient Jill Vasquez.

JASON OPSAHL’S CANCER RETURNED AGAIN—SHOWING UP
soon after closing night for
The Full Monty
. He went into New York Weill Cornell Medical Center for his third brain surgery. His heart arrested during the procedure and Jason Opsahl died on October 25, 2002. Rosie O’Donnell, a
friend to the end, flew to Florida. She sat with the family during the funeral service.

A distraught Broadway packed the John Houseman Theatre on 42
^nd
Street on November 5 to bid farewell to the blonde actor with the baby face whom all the theater community had come to know and love. Technical show people assembled a moving media presentation of film footage and still shots. Among the attendees were Greg Bach and Dean Faiello.

Jerry Mitchell was there, too. In his twenty-five years in New York, he’d lost many friends to HIV/AIDS and was sorrowfully prepared for that eventuality. Now, though, he was devastated. He never thought he’d lose a good friend to cancer so young.

As he thought back on Jason, he remembered that when Jason was there with you, he was always totally present in the moment. “Jason taught me that quantity and quality are two completely different things,” Jerry said. “None of us knows the quantity of time we will have, but we all can determine the quality.”

Jason Opsahl was only 39 years old—the light of his talent, energy and generosity blinked out, no longer adding to the brilliance along the Great White Way.

Dean had no time to grieve the passing of his former lover. His own pile of problems continued to stack higher, threatening to bury him in an avalanche of self-created debris.

FINALLY, DEAN GOT A COUPLE OF PIECES OF GOOD NEWS. HIS
lawyer, Margaret Shalley, worked a deal with Ronda Lustman at the attorney general’s office. It meant that Dean would only have to spend a maximum of 6 months in jail. To get this lenient sentence, he first had to cooperate with authorities in their investigation of a handful of physicians.

The second stroke of luck came when he heard he would inherit some money. When Jason Opsahl died in surgery, Dean was still listed as the beneficiary of what was once a small pension account Jason maintained through the Actor’s Guild. By 2002, the value of that account approached $100,000.

Although Jason never followed through with the official paperwork, he made it clear in writing that he wanted his brothers’ children to inherit his pension. Jason’s brother Bart called Dean to discuss it. “Look,” he said, “you and I both know it wasn’t Jason’s wish for you to have all that money. Jason wanted it for his nieces and nephews. You are entitled to some of it, but the rest should go to the kids.”

Dean agreed on all points. He said he would look over the paperwork, figure out what needed to be done to make
that happen and would get back to Bart. Bart was pleased by Dean’s surprisingly agreeable attitude.

But Dean never called. Instead, he complained to Greg about his difficulty in getting his rightful inheritance. He did not mention his conversation with Bart, and Greg, knowing only part of the story, offered up the money for Dean to hire another attorney for advice on the matter.

IN THE FALL OF
2002
, TOM SHANAHAN’S LAW FIRM WAS ONLY
three years old. His practice focused on employment-related discrimination law affecting the gay, lesbian, bisexual and trans-gendered communities. With every passing day, though, he was gaining prominence as an openly gay attorney with a willingness to represent community organizations and not-for-profits in
pro bono
litigation. He ran his practice on the belief that “even unpopular litigants have a right to their day in court and even unpopular litigants have a right to counsel.”

Shanahan represented the families of twenty 9–11 victims, two members of Congress, numerous community groups and the New York City Uniformed Fire Officers Association in a case that sought to compel the Port Authority to reconstruct the World Trade Center in conformance with the New York City building and fire codes. He challenged the religious exemption to the New Jersey Law Against Discrimination when he stood up for gay and lesbian students who were denied the opportunity to form a student organization at Seton Hall University. Shanahan obtained a successful judgment in the first ever jury trial of a transsexual fired under New York’s administrative code. He was successful in one of the first same-sex visitation cases, involving the non-biological mother’s right to see her child after ending a relationship with her lesbian partner.

In a case that demonstrated his creativity and sense of
humor, Shanahan joined a team of volunteer lawyers to save
New York
magazine–rated “Best Dive Bar,” Siberia. Their client alleged that the landlord, Mitsubishi, harassed the bar in an attempt to evict—going so far as to rip a toilet from the wall and cause flooding. Shanahan, along with Siberia’s owner Tracy Westmoreland, traveled to Tokyo and chained themselves to the toilet in front of Mitsubishi world headquarters.

Tom’s beginnings were truly humble. His father was raised in Jersey City by working-class Irish-Catholic immigrants. His Iranian mother emigrated from Tehran to work as a nurse at the Roosevelt Hospital in Manhattan. They met while ballroom dancing at the Roseland, started their married life in Hell’s Kitchen, then moved to Staten Island, where Tom grew up.

To pay his way through New York Law School, Shanahan worked full-time and part-time for five years for New York’s first public advocate, Mark Green. Then he joined Tratner & Molloy, a New York law firm, where he litigated discrimination cases, ultimately establishing his own firm, Shanahan & Associates, in 1999.

Although Tom was not as prominent in 2002 when Greg and Dean came to his door, it was clear that Greg Bach had not selected a lightweight to represent his lover. At Shanahan’s direction, Dean sent a letter to Bart indicating that he was legally entitled to the inheritance, and that he intended to keep it. When he accepted the civil case on Dean’s behalf, Shanahan had no awareness of his client’s current travails with the attorney general’s office.

But Dean hit another glitch: The pension fund managers wanted written assurance that Jason had no children. No matter who was listed as beneficiary, the distribution was set up so that the money automatically went to any of Jason’s offspring—if he had any. If not, they needed a signed document to this effect from Jason’s family.

The company sent forms to Jason’s brother Bart in Florida. Bart was reluctant to sign—he did not think his brother had any children, but didn’t know for sure. Dean badgered him to sign the paperwork, even offering to split the money with him. Bart still balked—he did not want to make a statement that might be fraudulent, and he was more than a little annoyed with Dean’s prickly behavior. He still felt that, although Dean should be repaid for the loan, the bulk of the funds belonged to Jason’s nephews.

ON DECEMBER
6, 2002,
DEAN APPEARED IN COURT WITH HIS AT
torney Margaret Shalley. In keeping with the plea agreement Shalley crafted that limited his jail time to 6 months, he pled guilty to seventeen misdemeanor counts and not guilty to the three felony counts, all connected to the indictment handed down by the grand jury in November.

DEAN’S PLEA-BARGAINED SHORTER SENTENCE, HIS HOUSE SALE
and his possible inheritance windfall all relieved Greg tremendously. It looked to Greg as if he’d accomplished his goal to get all of Dean’s affairs in order before he served time behind bars. After Dean paid the bank and other creditors and reimbursed Greg, he would still have a $150,000 nest egg when he was released after a short 6-month stay in jail. Greg was impressed with Margaret Shalley and appreciative of her work. Reducing a 4-year sentence to half a year seemed like a miracle.

Greg worked to create a light and happy atmosphere for Dean, especially since the reality of Dean’s life was now so dark—so tragically sad. Greg decorated the Newark house inside and out for the holidays. He threw a Christmas party that looked lavish, though it was planned on a shoe-string budget. As an experienced event planner, Greg was a master at creating extravagance at a very low cost.

And the money Greg disbursed seemed well spent. It
provided a showcase for the estate sale coming up in January, it was a nice way to say goodbye to a house that held so many memories, and it gave Dean a memorable send-off before beginning his jail sentence.

Despite all this, Dean’s spirits remained low. For him, those impending 6 months in jail might as well have been 6 years, or even 60. The thought of any time behind bars terrified him. Through email, he resumed contact with Chris Buczek, a boyfriend from two decades earlier. In his messages, he often rambled about the anxiety he felt over spending time in jail.

Dean’s apathy continued to drive Greg to distraction. While Dean slept or lounged about, Greg went off to work. Although he had time on his hands, Dean wouldn’t lift a finger around the house. One day, for instance, Dean promised to install new press-on tiles for the kitchen floor. When Greg returned to Newark after work, not one new tile was in place.

Greg was frustrated. He worked hard to support Dean and finance the renovations and repairs on the home that was required for the sale. He also gave Dean pocket money, though taking care never to give him too much at one time—if he did, he feared Dean would blow it all on drugs.

A long-time friend of Dean’s, Patty Rosado, visited him often after his arrest. She tried to take his mind off of his troubles with
Six Feet Under, Sex and the City
and other DVDs, which they sometimes watched together until dawn.

One day, Patty sarcastically told Greg, “Don’t give him any more money. He’s got money of his own now.” They both suspected that Dean had reopened Skin-Ovations and was treating people with a laser again. When Patty later learned that Dean paid a lot of money to friend Carl James for use of his apartment at 151 16
^th
Street, they were sure of it.

Greg was perplexed. He provided for all of Dean’s needs.
Why would Dean need more money?

Greg contacted Margaret Shalley and shared his suspicions with her. She said there was nothing she could do but warn Dean of the consequences of violating the court order. That warning had no impact on Dean’s actions, prompting Patty to confront him. Dean lashed out, offended by the invasion of his privacy. What Dean in fact wanted was something Greg would not provide—drugs. Now that Andrew Reyner and doctor of osteopathy Michael Jackowitz were being grilled about Dean’s prescriptions for Stadol and other drugs, he no longer had access to his pharmaceutical highs. Now any drug would do. He was buying whatever was available from an assortment of street dealers. And to get that money, he needed to get back to work.