Under the Knife: A Beautiful Woman, a Phony Doctor, and a Shocking Homicide (24 page)

He submitted an application for an osteopathic Physicians and Surgeons Certificate in July 2004, to the Osteopathic Medical Board of California. He swore to the truthfulness of all the statements he made in the document, but the reviewing body suspected he was not completely open or honest. After an investigation, the board denied Jackowitz a license to practice, based on the disciplinary action taken in New York. They also billed him for the costs of their investigation.

In the summer of 2006, Michael Jackowitz was in California involved in a number of television and theater projects. He’d begun work on his most ambitious project to date—the development of a world premiere opera by award-winning composer Stephen Schwartz, planned to open for Opera Santa Barbara in 2009.

LAW ENFORCEMENT IN TWO STATES FOCUSED IN ON DEAN’S
sister, Debra. One of Dean’s Newark neighbors told police that Debra and Patty removed Dean’s patient files and a bag of possessions from his room at Mark Ritchey’s place. It was reported that the bag contained Maria’s identification, keys and credit cards.

They knew Debra picked up Dean’s Jeep Cherokee from the New Jersey impound lot—the same SUV Dean used to transport Maria’s body from Manhattan to Newark. They
knew she went by Ritchey’s place and got the title to the vehicle and transferred the ownership into her name. The question was, had she done anything with the intention of covering Dean’s tracks?

The New Jersey State Police department of Internal Affairs began an investigation. One of the people they called was Jeane MacIntosh. They wanted to know where she got information about Dean’s Jeep, the electronic money transfer and anything else connected to Debra Faiello for her published stories. “My source contacted another reporter,” she said. “Brad Hamilton received the phone call . . . I cannot reveal another reporter’s sources.”

Internal Affairs contacted Brad, but he disappointed them, too. He refused to divulge his source. A spokesman for the New Jersey Police Department assured the media that Sergeant Faiello was cooperating with the investigation in every way she could.

Many observers of the department were skeptical. Suspicion that the troopers were once again protecting one of their own ran rampant. At the end of 1999, the United States Justice Department determined that a monitor needed to be appointed by a federal judge to provide oversight of the New Jersey Police Department, after discrimination and racial profiling were found to be pervasive. Federal authorities also accorded the monitor the responsibility of overseeing a dramatic reorganization in the Internal Affairs office, inspired by a long history of accusations of cronyism and cover-up.

The monitor could demand a reinvestigation if the findings or techniques employed in an Internal Affairs investigation appeared at all suspicious. Many—including attorney Tom Shanahan—thought the feds should investigate the conduct of the police in their probe into Debra Faiello’s actions.

The New Jersey police were not sharing their findings with the media, and appeared disinterested in disciplining Debra. The district attorney’s office in Manhattan, though, had serious concerns about her involvement in her brother’s case. They launched a criminal investigation of their own.

IF ONE OF DEAN’S INNER CIRCLE HAD NOT STEPPED FORWARD
with an essential bit of information, authorities would not have known to look in Newark, and the body of Maria Cruz might still be under that slab of concrete in the carriage house. A lot of people possessed a small piece of the puzzle of Maria’s disappearance, but it was Greg who made the initial contact with Investigator Ford in the attorney general’s office. Without his honesty, Maria’s family still might not know what happened to their beloved Ate Pipay. The answers they now had were dreadful and tragic; but at least the family no longer faced the anguish of not knowing.

Greg knew that he did not speak up to authorities out of malice toward Dean. He’d acted because it was the right thing to do. Still, the tabloid press labeled him as a vindictive ex-lover, a vengeful paramour and worse. Their descriptions saddened Greg, but his concern about that matter paled in comparison to his distress over the growing skepticism of the authorities. In a meeting with Detective Della Rocca and Assistant District Attorney Ann Prunty, it demonstrated itself.

Records from the telephone in his apartment were slapped on the table. Della Rocca pointed to a number of calls made to drug dealers who provided a home delivery
service. Greg was furious that Dean used his phone to call dealers, and further outraged that he had illegal drugs delivered to Greg’s home. He told Della Rocca and Prunty just that. They, however, accused him of being involved in drugs, too.

Della Rocca pointed out in his phone records the night Maria died, “You called Patty Rosado that night.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You talked to her for fifteen minutes.”

Greg saw the proof before his eyes, but he certainly did not remember the call.

“What did you two talk about?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything special that night. It was just an ordinary evening.”

A look of disgust crossed Della Rocca’s face, his disbelief apparent. Then the detective pointed to the call Greg made right after talking to Patty. “What did you talk to this guy about?”

“I don’t recall. He’s my best friend. We talked. I don’t remember the conversation. As I said, it was not a memorable night for me.”

“There’s another thing that bothers me, Bach. We have the phone records from Carl James’ apartment. There was no call from there to Martin Mannert that night.”

“There wasn’t?”

“No. Why would someone in a trauma situation call their accountant, anyway?” Della Rocca asked.

“I don’t know. I just know what Martin told me.”

“Would you call an accountant if somebody was dying?”

Greg did not answer. He did not know what to say.

Then they questioned Greg about the first call he made the morning after Maria’s death. “That’s a lawyer’s office. Why did you call your attorney
that
morning, Mr. Bach?”

“That’s the lawyer who wrote up the promissory note
regarding the money Dean owed me. I called him for advice about that.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You called him
that
morning about money?” Skepticism put an ugly edge on Della Rocca’s voice.

Greg repeated his answer, but realized that no matter what he said or how many times he said it, they were not going to believe him. He signed a document waiving his attorney–client privilege so his lawyer could answer the investigators’ questions. Greg hoped they would believe his attorney. However, neither Prunty nor Della Rocca ever made that follow-up call.

Greg left the meeting in turmoil, wondering if what they had told him was even true.
Did Della Rocca make some of that stuff up?
he wondered. Greg knew he could no longer trust the investigators or the prosecutors.

Greg took the tone of the meeting as an indication that he needed a criminal attorney on his side, but he didn’t want to go into further debt hiring one. Dean trashed his credit and left him in a deep financial hole—he was already climbing as fast as he could, and there was no end in sight.

He sought legal advice elsewhere. First, Greg visited the Legal Aid Society of New York. Since he was not charged with a crime, though, they could not help him. He then consulted with advisors at the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund. Greg, however, had no reason to believe he was being discriminated against because of his sexual preferences. The Gay/Lesbian Center sponsored a legal clinic each month in which they offered free fifteen-minute consultations with attorneys. Greg made an appointment. It would be difficult to condense his bizarre story into the short time frame allotted, and revealing it was embarrassing. But he did it anyway.

“It looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a sticky wicket,” the lawyer said, but aside from that observation, offered nothing more.

Up until this point, Greg avoided interviews with the media. He didn’t want his role in the mystery exposed. He didn’t want Dean to know that he went to the police. But the tabloids outed him just the same, and they did it in what he regarded as a sleazy, nasty way.

Greg wanted to counteract the negative effects of the stories. He needed to talk to someone who might give him answers—information about the chain of events that he had not been able to get from the police. And he hoped that if he told his whole story to a reputable publication, everyone would read it and at last leave him alone.

Greg chose to approach
Vanity Fair
first. He selected them because of their reputation for journalistic integrity. He knew there were less reputable venues out there who would pay him for his story, but Greg was more interested in enhancing his credibility than in lining his pocket. Walking into their offices on the seventh floor of 4 Times Square, he asked if they were interested. They were, and they assigned Bryan Burrough to cover the story. Greg told him about his involvement in Dean’s life and the recovery of Maria’s body. But Bryan could not offer him any new information—he knew less than Greg. He suggested that Greg contact the producers at
48 Hours
.

The CBS show began covering the disappearance of Maria Cruz in the summer of 2003 as part of a bigger story about missing persons in New York. At some point, the story seemed to be going nowhere, so they shelved their footage and let it drop. But new developments in the Maria Cruz case revitalized their interest, and they resurrected the material.

Greg approached the producers with great trepidation. It was a big stretch for a private person like him. Again, Greg divulged his story to a media outlet whose policy prohibited paying for interviews. But the
48 Hours–Greg
Bach collaboration proved mutually beneficial in other ways. Greg filled in some blanks for Harold Dow, one of the show’s star producers, and field producer Susan Mallie, and they answered many of Greg’s questions in return.

Again and again, Greg fielded queries about the $25,000 reward money. Why hadn’t he requested it? Initially, Greg had seen the fund as blood money, and wanted nothing to do with it. But as time went by, his attitude changed. He suffered a lot of inconvenience by coming forward, and he staggered under the financial burden of Dean’s actions. He decided in the end to request the reward.

First, he called CrimeStoppers. They said that the reward was not listed with them. He needed to call Detective Della Rocca they told him. Greg thought about it for a few days before he got up the nerve to call the detective and ask about it.

“We want to wait until Dean is in the United States before we deal with that,” Della Rocca responded.

But the people at
48 Hours
insisted that he was entitled to the money and that he should contact Barclays—after all, they put up half of the money, and should have some control over the distribution. Greg discussed the issue with the human resources department at Barclays, who also referred him to Della Rocca.

Greg called the detective again and pointed out that the reward was not offered for the return of Dean Faiello but for information leading to the whereabouts of Maria Cruz.

“That’s not what I do,” Della Rocca said. “Call the number on the poster.”

“Your number is on the poster, Detective. That’s why I am calling you.”

Greg did not understand. He had cooperated fully from the beginning. He never even got a thank you, only grief.

The next time Greg met with Assistant District Attorney Ann Prunty and Detective Della Rocca, their hostility sucked the air out of the room. They peppered him with questions that sounded very familiar to Greg. “Are you asking me about stuff you read in the
Vanity Fair
article or what’s in police reports?”

He got no answer, but knew his assumption was right. Still, it made no sense.

Referring to the death of Maria Cruz and the disposal of her body, Della Rocca asked, “You mean you’re telling me you didn’t know?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you from the beginning, Detective,” Greg said.

“We believe you knew all about it, Mr. Bach. If we’re right, we’ll charge you with conspiracy after the fact,” Prunty said.

“I did nothing wrong. I brought my suspicions to Investigator Ford. I didn’t know if they were justified or not. You know there’s no truth to that charge.”

Prunty ignored Greg’s assertions of innocence and left him feeling that she did not care.

Greg left the encounter stunned. Anger roiled through his body. First Dean used him and tossed him aside. Now the authorities were doing the same thing. Greg could not worry about the expense any longer. He needed a criminal attorney. He hired one that day.

With that action, Greg severed the line of direct communication between himself and the investigation of
Dean Faiello. Greg would no longer speak to investigators without his attorney present. After all of his cooperation, it galled Greg to think that any time he sat down with the authorities, he would have to pay a legal fee. Unfortunately, he felt he had no other choice.

AFTER DEAN MOVED OUT OF THE IMMIGRATION FACILITY AND
into the regular jail, most of the reporters headed back home. Jeane MacIntosh stuck around. She was there on March 17, 2004, when the office of Manhattan District Attorney Robert M. Morganthau filed a felony arrest warrant with the Criminal Court of the City of New York charging Dean Faiello with one count of murder in the second degree: