Under the Knife: A Beautiful Woman, a Phony Doctor, and a Shocking Homicide (8 page)

When Dean came calling, Dr. Polis was affiliated with four hospitals and a consultant for a long list of corporations including Pond’s, Gillette, Clearasil and Novartis Pharmaceuticals. She took her continuing professional education seriously. The list of post-doc courses she had mastered grew with each passing year.

She recognized that Dean possessed an innate knack for a soothing bedside manner. She was impressed with his desire to learn and aware that his good looks were an asset in the beauty business.

Dean and Laurie reached an agreement and Dean left the stifling environment at The Beach. Dean performed electrolysis in her facility as an independent contractor. He set his own hours, used his own equipment and saw his own group of clients. Polis referred patients in need of electrolysis to Dean, and Dean referred clients who needed a dermatologist to Dr. Polis.

Observing Dean, she was pleased with the arrangement. He practiced prudent aseptic techniques and was fastidious about his personal appearance, the condition of the treatment room and the care of any patients she referred to him. She witnessed no signs of duplicity—no
indication that he was anything less than a consummate professional.

At the time Dean joined the group, the world of dermatology was just beginning to welcome laser technology into its treatment regimen. Trained as a laser surgeon, Dr. Polis introduced the technology to her patients. Dean expressed an interest in observing and learning about the technique. He had some experience with the early technology of laser but none with the state-of-the-art laser machines used in Laurie’s practice.

“If I know about it, I will know when to refer a client to you for laser instead of performing electrolysis,” he said.

Dr. Polis agreed as long as he informed the patients in advance and obtained their consent. It was not an unusual request in her facility. Often medical students, residents, other doctors and staff sat in on her procedures.

Dean referred several patients to Dr. Polis for laser work and was on hand with them from beginning to end. He was a helpful asset to the doctor. He moved patients in and out of the treatment room and jotted down notes. His inquisitive and enthusiastic manner made his presence a pleasure.

Dean actively participated in other areas at the center. He fixed equipment all over the office. He attended the center’s marketing meetings and contributed valuable input.

He built a strong clientele at the SoHo facility that included some straight women, but was dominated by gay men who wanted electrolysis or laser to look good on the beach at Fire Island, and transsexuals who were mainly interested in removing the hair from their faces.

Unbeknownst to Dr. Polis, Dean discovered the highly addictive Stadol NS, an opiate nasal spray, while he worked at her facility. The active ingredient, butorphanol,
induced a morphine-like state of calm. In no time, he was hooked.

After working there for several months, Dean resigned. “I am dying of AIDS,” he said. “I’m going to move to Florida to spend the rest of my days with my parents down there.”

Dr. Polis and the rest of the doctors and staff at the center were shocked. They knew Dean was gay. They were aware of the horrible loss of life that streaked through the homosexual community in New York. But Dean? He looked fit and strong—the epitome of good health.

They were saddened by the news. They all liked him and enjoyed working with him. They knew they would miss him and grieve over his death at such a young age. They threw a farewell party giving gifts and best wishes to Dean as they sent him on his way. It was hard to lose a co-worker to the threat of an untimely death.

DEAN WAS HIV POSITIVE—BUT DYING OF AIDS? HARDLY.
Parents in Florida? Not exactly. He stole Michael Hart’s story and claimed it as his own. He decided to set up his own business and steal patients for both electrolysis and laser. He found it easy to seduce the trannies over to his camp. Eradicating facial hair on someone with a full beard took many long sessions. Each zap with the laser was like a slap. Each jolt of electrolysis felt like a stab. Individually, they were not too bad, but the repetition made it nearly unbearable. He promised prospective clients a reduced rate and the use of lidocaine to numb the area under treatment. To seal the deal, he bad-mouthed Dr. Polis to drive them to his door.

Dani Samuelson, a transsexual with long dark hair, a slim body and a cute face, first saw Dean at Dr. Polis’ clinic on April 20, 1996. He started out treating her and others after hours in Dr. Polis’ office. Dani saw him twice
in May and once in August at the SoHo location. Before the end of the year, he’d left the SoHo clinic and started SkinOvations—a name suggested by Dani—at a dentist’s office on 23
^rd
Street.

THE FIRST DAY SHE ENTERED HIS NEW OFFICE, DANI WAS NER
vous, not knowing what to expect of Dean’s new facility. A receptionist with a French accent greeted her as she opened the door and invited her to take a seat.

Dani breathed in deep and exhaled some of her building apprehension. Before each treatment to remove the dark facial hair, the same consuming sense of dread settled on her stomach, making her queasy. She hated the pain.

Dean, however, told her he would inject the area with lidocaine. He promised she wouldn’t feel a thing during the procedure. Dani knew that without the pain, she could sit through a longer session—and that meant fewer sessions before the ordeal was complete.

The expense would be less, too. Dean offered her a discounted rate when he lured her from the SoHo clinic. Everything about gender transformation was so expensive. Like Dean’s other tranny clients, she appreciated his consideration of her economic limitations. Her friend, Laura Lorne, had told her about sessions with Dean where the hair removal procedure ran over the allotted time, but Dean didn’t charge extra.

Dani did wonder if it was legal for Dean to administer the lidocaine injections, but decided she didn’t care. Eliminating her big moustache was painful—the upper lip was one of the most sensitive parts of the body. This wasn’t a medical procedure, she thought. It was just a beauty treatment like a haircut or massage.

Dani’s reverie ended when she heard her name called out. She followed her escort down the hall to the treatment room. As she waited for Dean, she began to relax in
the quiet, peaceful environment surrounding her—a welcome change from other venues. No raised voices. No boisterous people.

Dean entered the room in a crisp, white, knee-length jacket, looking every bit a competent, knowledgeable practitioner. On his hand, a huge diamond ring sparkled—a legacy from his grandfather Carmine Faiello. He flashed a winning smile and welcomed Dani with his soft-spoken voice.

The anxiety that coursed through Dani up to this moment was released from her pores and evaporated into nothing. As a rule, Dani felt uncomfortable around gay men—always on guard for a put-down. Dean, however, was different from most—at least in the office environment. She thought he was smarmy in what she referred to as a stereotypical gay guy way, but he was gentle, understanding about trannies’ specific needs and never treated her like an outcast.

Dean apologized for the sting of the needle and the burn of the anesthetic. In moments, the unpleasant sensations were gone as numbness crept over Dani’s skin. Dean got to work with his laser, zapping unwanted hair follicles. Dani made it through a full hour of treatment with nothing more than minor discomfort. Very pleased with the day’s experience, she set her next appointment before leaving the building.

A POSITIVE, TENSION-FREE INTERACTION BETWEEN A TRANNY
and a gay man was a rare moment for someone like Dani. Although it’s politically correct to speak of the GLBT—gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender—community, in reality, trannies found exclusion all around.

Most gay activists and the organizations they support adopt an inclusive attitude toward transsexuals and trans-gender individuals. A recent survey indicates that two-thirds
of homosexuals favor inclusion. In the remaining third, insecurity and lack of enlightenment are likely compounded by the image of the flamboyant drag queen—many of whom are in fact heterosexuals who cross-dress for fun or a paycheck. Their over-the-top behavior creates a perception that has led to discrimination by gay men toward trannies that is real, even if not universal. However, every instance of discrimination felt all-encompassing to the victim, and Dani was keenly aware of each slight.

From her viewpoint, gay men keep transsexuals at arm’s length because of their fear of negative repercussions in public perception. They believe gays worry that inclusion of trannies at their social events would make them appear more effeminate and therefore, less acceptable to straight society.

Dani felt that a more central issue of public perception for gay men resulted from the behavior of the few. Gay Pride parades that feature mock or actual displays of sexual acts are offensive to Middle America—just as the same overt acting out by heterosexuals offends sensibilities. If the straight population could simply associate the sexual excess seen in gay pride parades with that of similar exhibitions by male–female couples in New York’s Puerto Rican parade, or the breast-flashing of women for beads in New Orleans during Mardi Gras, rather than regarding them as a hallmark of homosexuality, it would go far in minimizing strife between the two groups. That time, however, had not yet arrived for Dani and other transsexuals, who’d come to expect ostracism from straights and gays alike. When a man like Dean demonstrated no bias, it naturally came as a surprise.

Lesbian society was no bastion of enlightenment, either. Dani rarely found acceptance there. The women who came out in the sixties and seventies, in particular, had a
strong belief in their credentials as lesbian women. They saw trannies as faux-women—men in disguise. They felt these people had grown up with the advantages of male privilege and were now co-opting everything women worked so hard to achieve, an assessment that denied the reality of life for Dani.

Complicating the issue was the fact that many transsexuals did not have the money or the medical prerequisites to complete the gender reassignment through surgery. Although living like women, they still were physically equipped as men.

The drama of this conflict hit a high point at the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival. The three-decades-old annual event covers 650 acres in rural Michigan each August. Thousands of lesbians gather for music, workshops, film and more in an all-woman venue. In 1991, the festival organizers expelled Nancy Burkholder, a transwoman, from the festivities. After two years of trying to get the policies of the event changed, trannies formed Camp Trans a half-mile down the road. It evolved into an event in its own right. Nonetheless, for Dani, the exclusion by mainstream America remained painful.

A new attitude among younger lesbians may one day bring the policy to an end. Women in their twenties and thirties have embraced a concept of sexual fluidity and possess a greater willingness to allow individuals an open expression of identity. Dani dreamed of that day, but was pessimistic about its arrival in her lifetime.

DANI SAMUELSON INTRODUCED HER FRIEND MURIEL FARINA
to Dean Faiello. Muriel, a Cuban-American trained and certified in electrolysis, wanted to expand her knowledge about hair removal by learning laser techniques. The two struck a deal: Muriel would bring Dean clients who could benefit from laser hair removal, and Dean would treat them while teaching Muriel. The two of them would split the fees fifty–fifty. They started out practicing at the 23
^rd
Street location.

Dean stayed at that office for a short time before moving his operations to the Lexington Professional Center, an Upper East Side medical complex at 133 East 73
^rd
Street—less than a block from Park Avenue. His offices adjoined those of Dr. William Keavy.

Keavy, a highly regarded specialist in plastic and reconstructive surgery, wrote the necessary prescriptions for Dean’s clients and provided the lidocaine for injections. It was puzzling that a professional of Keavy’s stature would be taken in by Dean’s façade and not question his credentials. Some doctors who enabled Dean’s practice and addictions throughout the years turned their backs on common sense and ethics because of the sexual attraction they had for Faiello or out of a greedy willingness to accept fees for the questionable services they provided.
Whether either of these motivations drove Keavy—or if there was some other unknown compulsion at work—may never be known with any certainty.

Although not working in the same office, Keavy was the nominal medical director of SkinOvations and Dean was the chief laserist. Dean, the college drop-out, also claimed on line to have a master’s degree in engineering from RPI.

Meanwhile, Muriel kept up her business in an independent office space, but was working at Dean’s two days a week for three hours at a time. She noticed that a great number of his clients were gay men who had or were having a sexual relationship with Dean.

She was concerned about the number of clients who ranted and raved in the front office about the ineffectiveness of their laser treatments. She recalled one man in particular who said, “I’ve given you five thousand dollars. You told me the hair would disappear.”

Dean soothed him, as he did everyone with complaints, but Muriel grew increasingly uncomfortable. She didn’t know where the fault lay—with Dean’s operation of the equipment, the particular type of machine or that the technology proved far more effective on the lower half of the torso than it did on any areas above the waistline. Overall, the situation made her doubt whether it was wise to add laser services to her electrolysis business. She was still eager to learn more, but Dean was not as willing to teach her as he had been when they first met.