Under the Knife: A Beautiful Woman, a Phony Doctor, and a Shocking Homicide (16 page)

One of his new patients came to him for laser treatments for a condition called black hairy tongue. Her name was Maria Cruz.

DEAN’S FIRST CONFERENCE AS PART OF HIS PLEA AGREEMENT
was in March 2003. He and his attorney entered a conference room filled with representatives of the office of the attorney general, the department of education and the department of health.

He admitted to them that he had in fact introduced himself to patients as Dr. Faiello. They wanted information on the doctors who supplied him with prescription drugs. “Are you selling these painkillers to others?”

“No,” Dean said. “I’m a Stadol addict. I want it all for myself.”

Dean provided authorities with emails and cancelled checks incriminating Dr. Andrew Reyner, a Manhattan psychopharmacologist; Michael Jackowitz, a doctor of osteopathy; and other physicians. Authorities suspected
both Reyner and Jackowitz of supplying Dean with anesthesia, prescriptions and pills. Reyner had at one time been listed as a laser specialist on the SkinOvation website.

When questioned later through his attorney, Reyner denied having had contact with Dean since February 2001, when he wrote a letter asking that his name be removed from the website. Dean had once been a patient, nothing more, Reyner claimed.

Dean left the meeting, still free on bail while awaiting sentencing, promising that he would return with any additional information he could find.

MARCH
9, 2003,
WAS MARIA CRUZ’S
35
^TH
BIRTHDAY. HER BROTHER
Jun called her from the Philippines to wish her a wonderful day. They talked and laughed, both of them looking forward to Jun’s planned trip to New York a little more than a month away. That day, Jun had no idea that he would never hear his sister’s voice again.

COMPOSER STEPHEN SCHWARTZ STEPPED INTO DEAN’S LIFE
that spring. Stephen was a New York City native, born there in 1948. He studied at the Juilliard School of Music while in high school and graduated with a B.F.A. from Carnegie Mellon University in 1968.

A true Broadway luminary, Schwartz started his career as a producer for RCA Records and earned his first major Broadway credit when he wrote the title song for
Butterflies Are Free
. In 1971, he won two Grammys for the music and lyrics to
Godspell
. He also won acclaim as a director, capturing the Drama Desk Award for a musical version of Studs Terkel’s
Working
, which he also co-directed for television. He composed scores for full-length animated features as well, racking up three Academy Awards and another Grammy.

When he started seeing Dean Faiello, Stephen was working on the music for a Broadway production.
Wicked
, a musical prequel to
The Wizard of Oz
, was a tale about the college years of the wicked witch Elphaba and the good witch Glinda. It was scheduled to open in the fall of that year.

Greg was aware of Stephen and knew that he and Dean were friends. He even had dinner with them one evening. Dean was clearly impressed with Stephen and chattered
to Greg about their social encounters, describing a dinner where other guests included Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline.

That Dean would have a friendship with someone of Stephen’s prominence did not surprise Greg. Dean had always attracted smart, successful people. But Greg was shocked when Patty Rosado told him the truth: Dean and Stephen were involved in what one gossip columnist called “a torrid affair.”

Before Dean’s arrest in October 2002, Patty worked part-time on Saturdays as Dean’s receptionist. Dean eventually had to produce a massive amount of documentation to the attorney general’s office to satisfy the conditions of his plea bargain, and Patty volunteered to get his financial records and client files in order.

Sometimes she worked late into the night—occasionally all night—to meet the deadlines. Patty had a natural knack for this kind of work, and incredible organizational skills. Without her help, Dean might have blown the whole deal.

Unbeknownst to Dean, Patty was taking advantage of her access to Dean’s computers to hack into his email and spy on him. It was how she learned of Dean’s arrangements to use Carl James’ apartment, in late 2002. And it was how she stumbled across a passionate declaration of love from Stephen Schwartz that spring.

Patty forwarded that email to Greg. She said that as a friend, she felt obligated to let Greg know what was happening. At the time, Greg accepted that explanation of her good intentions. Nonetheless, he chastised her for violating Dean’s privacy.

NOT LONG AFTER HER BIRTHDAY, MARIA CRUZ EMAILED DEAN
Faiello. She complained of nausea and dizziness in the aftermath of her last laser treatment. Dean recommended
over-the-counter remedies. Her next appointment was scheduled for Friday, April 11, though obligations at the office forced her to postpone. Dean agreed to see her on Sunday evening, April 13. It pleased the work-centric Maria that Dean could accommodate her outside of regular business hours. Her position at Barclays was demanding, and she was trusted with multi-million-dollar decisions. Although beguiled and duped by Dean’s false credentials and smooth bedside manner, Maria was, ironically, a specialist in researching health care companies.

Dean emailed her before that Sunday visit. “I have to pick up lidocaine and syringes. Could you please pay in cash instead of a check?”

Maria did not express any concern about this unorthodox request. With her intelligence and business savvy, Maria was one of the last people anyone would suspect of being vulnerable to a quack’s con. But she accepted everything as unvarnished truth from this man she believed to be a physician.

After a day of attending mass, doing prep work for a meeting the next day, running errands—including the withdrawal of $400 cash from an ATM—Maria traveled down to the Chelsea area of Manhattan. She stopped to shop at Loehmann’s, then entered the building at 151 West 16
^th
Street for her appointment with Dean Faiello.

The condition requiring treatment, black tongue, was minor and temporary—often brought on by diet or medication. Usually, a doctor would give patients like Maria a series of tongue scrapings in his office and recommend vigorous toothbrushing on the surface of the tongue at home, in between visits.

Maria had opted for laser treatment because she found it less painful than scraping. But in choosing Dean Faiello, she ran a grave risk. The problem with her tongue was mild, and a true physician would have recognized the
difference between the minor black tongue ailment she suffered and the far more serious one of hairy leukoplakia—a precancerous overgrowth of the cilia. Had she suffered the latter, Dean’s treatment might have only concealed the symptoms, as the cancer continued to flourish undetected.

On April 13, nothing seemed out of the ordinary until Maria’s body began rocking with convulsions, following an injection of lidocaine into her tongue. Dean consulted a physician but did not get the advice he wanted. Dr. Goldschmitt told him that the only hope Maria had for survival would be her immediate transport to the emergency room.

Dean decided not to take this advice. He knew his plea bargain and his freedom would disappear if it was discovered that he was still treating patients. There would be an immediate arrest and incarceration without bail for the maximum sentence of 4 years.

Not willing to make that sacrifice, Dean gambled with Maria’s life. He waited, hoping that she would pull out of the convulsions on her own. It was a selfish wager—one destined for failure. Maria Cruz died at 8
P.M.
on April 13, 2003.

Again, Dean Faiello faced a decision. Should he do the right thing and call the police? Or should he, once more, seek a solution to protect himself?

Dean chose the latter. He allowed his anxiety about life in prison to outweigh the value of decency toward another human being. If he thought about the worry he would cause Maria’s family and friends if she disappeared into thin air, he pushed that concern out of his head. Foremost in his mind was his desire to save himself.

After years of pushing closer and closer to the edge—of blurring the legal and ethical distinctions between right and wrong—he fell off the precipice, past the point of no return. His arrogance, lust for control and sense of being
above the law drove his every choice. And when it came down to a decision between what was best for him and what was best for Maria—whether it was worth risking an innocent person to save himself—he acted in his own best interests.

Compounding the horror of what he had already done, he treated Maria like soiled laundry, stuffing her into a suitcase and lugging her home.

TES LARA AND JUN CRUZ, FAR FROM THEIR HOMES IN THE
Philippines, staggered under the weight of their sister Maria’s disappearance. Her New York and New Jersey family members rallied around them to help find Maria and bring her home. They reported her missing, enlisting the investigative skills of Detective Joe Della Rocca.

They called television, radio and newspaper journalists, trying stir up interest in Maria’s story and inform the public. They posted 200 fliers a day in Manhattan, Queens, Jersey City and elsewhere. The poster read:

Her disappearance is a complete mystery, baffling us all. If anyone has seen [Maria Cruz] or has any information about her whereabouts, the police and the family would like to hear from you.

—Jun Cruz, a brother of Maria.

Uncle Jose picked a different avenue of New York each time he went out. He walked its length from Upper Manhattan to deep into downtown, putting up posters on every block.

They launched a website,
www.mariacruzmissing.com
, and posted letters about her disappearance all over the Internet. Sheila Samonte-Pescayo, cousin and columnist in
the Philippines and in California, used her media access to issue a personal appeal on the one-month anniversary of Maria’s disappearance, pleading for help and prayers:

Maria, whom we fondly call “Ate Pipay,” was on the top of her career, being the senior financial analyst at Barclays Bank, one of the biggest in the Big Apple, which pays her a salary of $180,000 a year. Her baffling case has drawn the interest of Wall Street and many New Yorkers. In one telecast, Fox News television station regarded her disappearing act more important than Madonna’s performance in a West End play.

Her sister Tes told
48 Hours:
“My sister was six years younger than I, but she was like a big sister. My sister was very gutsy. She was a big dreamer. When she told me she wanted to go to the U.S., there was no other way for me but to encourage her to go on and fulfill her dreams.” Her disappearance, she said, “left this big gaping hole in my heart. From the very start, I knew something very wrong had happened to her. It was terrible. It felt like the world had just caved in on me.”

All across the country, devastated families understood her pain. They retained a sliver of hope that Maria would return unharmed. They hung in agonizing limbo. Until the discovery of a body, their minds raced with endless, trepidatious questions.

Maria’s family maintained a command center for the search. Every day, someone picked up the phone and called the police. The NYPD was not idle—they devoted significant resources to the search. Wally Zeins, commanding officer of the Manhattan Detectives Nightwatch in 2003, told
48 Hours
that investigators were suspicious from the start: “Maria Cruz had a very normal life. We knew she was religious. We knew she would work on her
day off. And then everything changed. She was here today, vanished tomorrow. A lot of things led detectives to believe there was foul play somewhere along the line.”

In June, authorities in New Jersey discovered a small-statured Asian woman who’d been beaten, mugged and left for dead. The New Jersey medical center called the Cruz family to come view the body for identification.

Jun stood outside the hospital, unable to cross the threshold. His limbs shook, his breath was shortened. He shivered in the street, even in the pounding heat of the Jersey sun. Uncle Jose took the lead, and to his great relief, it was not the body of his missing niece. Hope flared bright, the nightmares suppressed for one more day.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER MARIA’S DEATH, DEAN ENLISTED THE
help of his friends Patty Rosado and Mark Ritchey to change the locks on the doors of his home and on the wrought-iron gates surrounding it. Dean told Mark that he wanted to discourage trespassers and to keep Greg out of the house—Dean was tired of all his whining.

Mark and Patty claim they did not know about the more urgent, darker reason Dean wanted to keep Greg and others out. Greg, too, had no clue about the macabre truth that was now hidden at 212 Elwood. He was also unaware of his own banishment. Arriving at Dean’s house to help with the cleanup and repair chores, he pulled on the gate. It was locked. He pulled out his key. It didn’t fit.

Greg was enraged.

He climbed up a tree next to the fence and eased himself down into the yard. The fencing cut into his hands, scraped up his arms, ripped his pants and scratched his legs. He approached the house and discovered, again, that the doors were locked and the locks were changed.