Al Capone | Bloody Valentine

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It's just after 11 a.m.

on Valentine's Day, 1929, when the call comes in to the Hudson Avenue Police Station in Chicago.

Mrs.

Jeanette Landesman sounds shaken when she tells the operator that there's been some kind of crime, a shooting, she thinks, in a garage on North Clark Street.

The precinct is just a short walk from the station, so Lieutenant Thomas Loft has volunteers to head over and check it out.

A veteran of the force, he's seen plenty of shootings.

Lately, it seems like there's one every other day.

Gangsters are always killing each other for some reason or another.

But as he approaches the garage, Loftus wonders if this one is different.

A small group of people are standing on the pavement, clearly shaken.

One man in particular looks like he could use a stiff drink, if prohibition wasn't in effect, of course.

Loftus knows he should wait for backup.

But overcome with morbid curiosity, he pushes open the door to the garage.

It's quiet inside, save for the plaintive cries of a dog echoing around the cold cavernous space.

As he walks past rows of trucks, Loftus understands why the man outside looks so disturbed.

Stretched out on the floor are seven bodies in murky pools of blood.

Each of the men has been torn apart by dozens of bullets.

It's a horrific sight, unlike anything Loftus has seen in all of his years on the force.

But just when he thinks the situation can't possibly get any worse, one of the bodies starts to move.

Startled, Loftus edges towards the figure, pulling itself across the cold, bloody concrete.

Up close, the veteran cop recognizes Frank Guzenberg.

The two have had several run-ins in the past.

Guzenberg's a member of the Northside Gang, one of their hitmen.

But Loftus isn't thinking about Guzenberg's priors right now.

The contract killer has at least a dozen bullet wounds all over his body.

He's not long for this world, and maybe, the cop thinks, that might convince him to talk.

To a man, Chicago's gangsters stick to Omerta, a code of silence.

In Guzenberg's world, mob justice is more efficient than the cop's.

Now though, he's literally got nothing left to lose.

Bending down, Loftus asks Guzenberg, What happened here?

Who did this to you?

But not for nothing is Guzenberg's nickname Tight Lips.

Even as he bleeds out next to six already dead comrades, he refuses to talk.

He looks Loftus dead in the eye and tells him that no one shot him.

No one.

Then he begs to be taken to a hospital.

Shaking his head, Loftus straightens up and heads back outside so he can summon an ambulance.

Not that it will do any good.

Frank Guisenberg will be dead before dinner.

And with the gangster willing to go to his grave without helping the cops, Chicago's top investigators will have little to go on as they try to answer the question that's whispered throughout the city.

Who was behind the St.

Valentine's Day Massacre?

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As authorities and everyday citizens alike discussed the shocking massacre of February 14th, 1929, plenty of people were wondering what on earth could have motivated so bloody a crime.

But those who had been paying attention knew that the murders were precipitated by a prolonged period of gang violence.

And although theories about exactly what happened inside the garage varied, many were convinced that it all had something to do with Al Capone.

For years, Capone had sat atop Chicago's most successful gang, living the glamorous life of a celebrity while fending off usurpers at every turn.

His fame made him a household name, but it also made him a target.

According to most accounts, the 1929 massacre was the culmination of just one of those conflicts.

At least it was supposed to be.

The garage on North Clark Street wasn't the site of some random shootout between feuding gangsters.

It was meant to be an assassination.

But the killers missed their mark.

The intended target was someone Capone had a score to settle with.

It's not like the big fella was an inexperienced killer.

He'd successfully bumped off plenty of rivals and traitors over the years.

But this time, it seemed, his men had gotten it wrong.

It was a mistake that would prove costly for Capone.

But perhaps not in the way he might have expected.

The danger wouldn't come from his fellow gangsters or even the police.

It would come from the most unlikely of enemies, accountants.

This is episode 3 in our four-part series on Al Capone, Bloody Valentine.

It's September 20th, 1926, two and a half years before the St.

Valentine's Day Massacre, and 27-year-old Al Capone is having lunch with his bodyguard, Frank Rio.

They're at Capone's headquarters, the Hawthorne Hotel in Cicero.

His outfit moved to the suburb of Chicago in 1923.

There, Capone and his mentor, Johnny Torrio, continued to build up their business of brothels and speakeasies away from the prying eyes of Chicago's law enforcement.

It's not all been smooth sailing since they moved to Cicero, though.

Capone lost his brother during a bitter and bloody election fight in 1924, and Torrio almost died in an attempted hit in early 1925.

The attack led Torrio to leave the mobster life behind and hand over control of the outfit to his protégé.

Now Capone is the master of a criminal empire that reaches back into Chicago and stretches as far away as New York City.

But Cicero is the heart of the operation.

The Hawthorne Hotel is somewhere Capone feels safe.

No one would dare touch him there.

That's why he's so outraged this September lunchtime, when he hears the distinctive sound of machine gun fire coming from the streets outside.

But Capone isn't just angry, he's also confused.

Because what he doesn't hear are any of the sounds that typically come with the spray of machine gun bullets.

No smashing windows, no screams of pain.

As the gunfire continues, Capone, his bodyguard Rio, and the other customers get up to see what's happening.

They peer cautiously through the hotel windows, but everything on the street looks perfectly normal.

Seconds later, a car carrying the gunman rolls by the Hawthorn, and it quickly dawns on Capone.

He's firing blanks.

It seems bizarre, but as Capone stands watching, he suddenly realizes exactly what's happening.

The blanks are a calculated move meant to attract people, specifically Capone, closer to the street.

Because just moments after that first car passes out of sight, it's followed by several more, and these guys are not firing blanks.

Thinking quickly, Rio pushes Capone to the ground and lies on top of him, protecting him from the bullets ripping through the hotel.

Now there are the familiar sounds of shattered glass, splintered wood and people screaming.

When the final car in the procession draws level with the hawthorn, it stops and a man gets out, machine gun in hand.

He walks closer to the restaurant, kneels to steady himself and sprays the building with one final burst.

He then calmly shoulders his weapon and returns to the car.

It's all over.

The hotel restaurant has been torn apart.

The floor is a sea of glass.

Feathers from the shredded seat cushions skitter through the air, but miraculously, no one's been killed.

There are a few minor injuries, but given the trouble the would-be assassins went to, the casualties are surprisingly low.

The upshot is that Capone lives to rule another day, but he's furious about the attack on his headquarters.

And as word spreads through the city, citizens across Chicago wait nervously, wondering how the mobster will claim his revenge.

It's October 4, 1926, about two weeks since the attack on Capone's headquarters.

Today, the Sherman House Hotel in downtown Chicago is busy as usual.

Tourists check in and out at the front desk, bellhops whisk luggage to and from the elevators, and businessmen arrive at the restaurant for lunch.

Of course, this being Chicago during Prohibition, not all of the businessmen are on the up and up.

In a private dining room, the city's most powerful mob bosses, including Al Capone, sit around a large table.

Looking at the other men, a mixture of grudging allies and fierce rivals, Capone knows that many of them want him dead.

The feeling is mutual.

After the attack on his headquarters in Cicero, many in the Capone outfit are itching for reprisals to make the streets of Chicago run red once again.

But Capone's not there for bloodshed.

Instead, he's taking a leaf out of his old mentor Johnny Torrio's book.

He tells the other men that they need to find a way to operate their businesses in peace.

The way things are going isn't sustainable.

The heat from the authorities is only growing as the violence spreads.

There have already been raids on the outfit's gambling dens, and it's no good for business if cops smash up all your roulette tables.

And besides, Capone tells them, what's the point of being a gangster if you can't enjoy the fruits of your illicit work?

They should each be able to live their lives without fear, be able to leave their work-related worries behind them when they return home to their families each night.

Capone himself has a wife and son whom he adores, but he barely sees them because he's so scared of bringing them into harm's way.

It's a sensible enough argument, and after some deliberation, the men agree to a treaty of sorts.

They'll all drop past grudges, they'll be no more attacking rival gang members, and no one attempts to muscle in on each other's territories.

There's too much bad blood for there to ever be true unity amongst them.

Still, the hope around the table is that the agreement will bring about at least a temporary peace between the mobsters of Chicago.

Though the truce has been negotiated, that doesn't mean Capone has set aside violence altogether.

If someone betrays him, there still have to be consequences.

Back in New York, Capone's other former mentor, Frankie Yale, is still a powerful underworld figure.

Not only is he running his own businesses, he also plays a key role in Capone's outfit.

Yale's gang, the Black Hands, is responsible for ensuring Capone's illegally imported whiskey makes it safely out of New York.

But recently, Capone's trucks keep getting hijacked before they've even left Brooklyn, and Capone is beginning to think it's an inside job.

And if that's the case, there can only be one solution.

It's the afternoon of July 1st, 1928, and 35-year-old Frankie Yale is sitting with his driver at the Sunrise Cafe in New York City.

It's a pleasant summer's day, and a drink is the perfect way to wind down.

But before Yale can order a second round, his conversation is interrupted by a server.

There's been a phone call about Yale's wife.

Something's wrong is the only message that's passed on, but it's enough for Yale.

He grabs his hat and dashes from the cafe, turning down his driver's offer to see him home.

Outside the restaurant, Yale races to his Dark Lincoln and slides behind the wheel.

He guns it up New Old Tract Avenue.

His mind spirals, thinking about what could have happened to his wife.

He's so preoccupied that he almost doesn't notice the black sedan on his tail.

When he finally clocks the car, he swerves west on the 44th Street, trying to shake the other driver off, but it's no good.

The sedan catches up to him, and when the gunshots start, there's nothing Yale can do.

Within seconds, Yale loses control of the car crashing into a stoop of a building.

The black sedan screeches to a stop beside Yale's crumpled, shot-up car, and a gunman gets out.

He aims a pistol into the shattered driver's side window and shoots one final bullet into Yale's head.

Then the killers make a hasty exit before the cops show up.

Although investigators will struggle to tie anyone to the murder in the weeks and months to come, criminals in New York have no doubt who's behind the hit.

A message has been sent from Chicago.

Think twice about crossing Al Capone.

Capone's methods have long helped him instill fear in his followers, as well as his enemies.

And yet, there are still those brave or stupid enough to strike out at Capone when they get the chance.

Two months later, it's September 7th, 1928.

Tony Lombardo is wrapping up some work at the Unione Siciliana headquarters in Chicago's Loop.

He's the latest Unione president, installed in the position by Capone himself.

Around 4.30 in the afternoon, he leaves the office with his two bodyguards and starts walking east on Madison Street.

There's a large crowd gathered there, all of them watching workmen hoist an airplane up the side of a building for a department store exhibit.

Jostled by the spectators, neither Lombardo or his bodyguards are being as vigilant as they should.

As they walk by, two gunmen dart out from a doorway and shoot at point-blank range.

The first set of bullets take out one of Lombardo's bodyguards.

The second set goes right into the back of Lombardo's skull.

He's dead before he even hits the ground.

Their mission complete, the killers disappear into the crush of people before anyone can grab them.

But while the police busy themselves with trying to identify the gunmen, the more pressing issue, at least in some circles, is who will fill the suddenly vacant role of Unione president.

Of course, Capone has the answer and quickly replaces Lombardo with another ally.

For a few months, there's peace.

But then on January 8th, 1929, the new president is also shot dead in his own living room this time.

The authorities are left scratching their heads at the murder of a second Unione president in just five months.

The police may not have a clue, but word on the street is that Al Capone's rivals in the Northside gang are responsible for both hits.

Lately, its leader, Bugs Moran, has teamed up with an Italian-American named Joe Aiello.

Aiello has been Tony Lombardo's longtime business partner until Capone installed Lombardo in the Unione presidency over Aiello.

Ever since then, Aiello's had a vendetta against Capone.

Logic suggests that Capone simply eliminate Aiello and be done with it.

But with the backing of Bugs Moran, Aiello is a lot more dangerous.

And Moran's Northsiders have made themselves a nuisance in other ways too.

They've recently defied the truce, negotiated at the Sherman House Hotel, and started hijacking shipments of Capone's whiskey.

Capone has to respond.

It's not just about the money.

The thefts are an act of disrespect.

The big fella can't let stand.

So, on Valentine's Day just around the corner, Capone makes plans for a special delivery for the Northside gang.

Unfortunately for Capone, setting his sights on Bugs Moran is about the biggest mistake he'll ever make.

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It's February 14th, 1929, St.

Valentine's Day.

Snow may be falling in Chicago, but it's a different story in Miami.

Al Capone has a home in sunny Florida, and over the last year or so, he's been spending more and more time here.

He's still very much in charge of the outfit he established with Johnny Torrio, but these days, he mostly manages things at a distance, including, it's believed, the assassination of his one-time mentor, Frankie Yale, in 1928.

That case is what's brought Lewis Goldstein to Miami today.

Goldstein is an assistant district attorney from New York, and he's in town to meet with Capone about Yale's murder, which is still an open investigation.

Capone has been asked to attend the Dade County Courthouse for an interview.

He's not under arrest.

The cops just want some information.

And good citizen that he is, Capone's happy to meet with them.

Even if, of course, there's nothing he can tell them.

When Capone arrives at the courthouse in a light blue limousine, it's a little afternoon.

The 30-year-old's already thickening around the middle, but he turns heads with his bold outfit.

Capone's dressed for Miami's beachside climate, a checkered sports coat and white trousers, stylish casual shoes and his signature white fedora.

He's always been a snappy dresser, spending vast sums a year on custom suits and gleaming jewelry, and any appointment, even with the police, is a good excuse to show off his personal style.

But if Capone's flashy clothes are intended to impress Goldstein, they don't throw the assistant DA off his game.

As soon as Capone takes his seat in one of the courthouses, or the courthouse's private offices, the questions begin.

And though they start with Frankie Yale's murder, the conversation eventually shifts to other matters.

Robert Taylor, a solicitor for Florida's Dade County, is in the meeting too.

And when Goldstein's got everything he can from Capone on the Yale case, Taylor takes over.

He starts by asking Capone about his relationship with certain business associates who've been sending him money while he's in Miami.

Then he moves on to questions about what Capone does for a living.

Capone keeps a cool head.

It's hardly his first interview with the authorities, and he's not ruffled by the questioning.

Capone tells the solicitor that he's a gambler, attributing all his wealth to wins he's made playing the horses.

Part of his answer is true because Capone does like to gamble.

He's even rumored to carry $50,000 in cash at all times, just in case the mood strikes.

But the fact is, he's a lousy gambler and rarely wins.

Still, he sticks to the story, laboring under a mistaken belief that gambling winnings, legal or otherwise, aren't taxable income.

Whether he realizes it or not, Capone's meeting about an assassination has evolved into a probe into his finances.

For now, the questions are fairly benign, and Capone swats most of them away with the practice air of an experienced criminal.

But the interview hints at what's to come.

It's just Capone doesn't have the foresight to see it yet.

Meanwhile, back in Chicago, news of the bloody massacre in the garage on North Clark Street is spreading through the city.

Even in a place where gun violence is an almost daily occurrence, the February 14th bloodbath stirs up outrage.

A line has been crossed.

Tit for tat shootouts are one thing, but the cold-blooded execution of seven men is too much for the ordinary people of Chicago to swallow.

And the St.

Valentine's Day Massacre doesn't just make waves there.

It's so shocking that it becomes front-page news around the country.

Bold headlines about the slayings are accompanied by graphic black and white photographs of the crime scene.

Bloody bodies and all.

And there's one name that's always mentioned in the same breath as the massacre.

Even though Al Capone was hundreds of miles away from Chicago and Miami on February 14, people just about everywhere still believe he was involved in the killings.

And that turns up the wattage on his already luminous public profile.

As Americans from coast to coast discuss the salacious crime and Capone at length, the country's new president-elect decides he has to take decisive action to bring Chicago's criminals to heel.

Herbert Hoover hasn't yet been sworn in as US president, but he's already getting ready for a shakeup.

The incoming administration announces that they'll appoint 400 more federal prohibition agents and that they're going to ask Congress for another $2.5 million in prohibition enforcement funding.

Today, that would be in the region of $44 million.

The announcement sends a clear signal that they're aware of the rotten Chicago and are determined to stop it.

It's a signal that's gratefully received by many ordinary people in the Windy City.

When Hoover does take office in March of 1929, he meets with a group of influential civic leaders from Chicago who come to the White House with one simple plea.

Restore order to their city.

Chicago has become a playground for gangsters.

They tell the new president the mob controls the police, the judges, the very law.

Chicago's politicians are on Capone's payroll, and the governor of Illinois is toothless.

Their only hope is the federal government, for the president himself to take an interest.

Hoover hears their arguments and considers everything carefully.

It's not quite as simple as the concerns citizens make out.

The few incorruptible elements within Chicago have been trying to pin something on Capone for years without success.

Even Capone's enemies in the criminal world can't seem to take him down.

So what hope does a body as large and cumbersome as the federal government have to make something happen?

But as daunting as the task seems, as nimble as Capone has proven himself, Hoover can see the appeal in finally bringing him to justice.

Capone has a profile that rivals any Hollywood celebrity.

He's become the de facto face of organized crime for the entire country.

If Hoover's new administration can finally secure a conviction against the gangster, it'll send a forceful signal that no one is untouchable, that the law in America applies to everyone.

By the end of the meeting at the White House, an agreement has been reached.

The representatives from Chicago, a collection of successful businessmen, will foot the bill for any activities that the federal agencies can't afford.

In return, Hoover will give the leaders of those agencies their marching orders.

It's time to get out Capone.

But of course, the feds aren't the only ones with Chicago's top dog and their crosshairs.

Joe Aiello is still determined to take Capone out.

He's been overlooked for the coveted presidency of the Unione Siciliana, and he's nursing a powerful grudge against the gangster.

He's made various attempts on Capone's life over the past couple of years, but he's fumbled the ball every time.

Now, to get the job done right, Aiello turns to two notorious hitmen, 45-year-old Albert Anselmi and 26-year-old John Scalise.

Capone himself has often used the experienced killers in the past, but the inseparable pair's loyalty is only to each other, and to money.

If the prize is right, they'll take anyone down.

They've long been suspects in various mob-related assassinations, including the 1926 murder of Bugs Moran's predecessor Dean O'Banion.

Now word on the street is that they're plotting to take out Capone.

But Capone hasn't lived as long as he has without keeping an ear to the ground for possible threats.

Exactly what he learns about the conspiracy against him isn't clear, but if you believe the stories, on the night of May 7th, 1929, Capone throws a banquet, and on the guest list are the two hitmen, Scalise and Anselmi.

They're not the only possible traitors to Capone invited to the dinner that evening, though.

42-year-old Joseph Guinta is the latest president of the Unione Siciliana.

He's a card-carrying member of the outfit who owes his position to Capone.

But the scuttlebutt is that he thinks he could do a better job than the boss, and has been rallying troops for a revolt against Capone's leadership.

As Capone has proven time and time again, disloyalty is not something he suffers lightly.

So, as the feast wraps up, he stands.

A broad smile creases that famous face.

Ostensibly, Capone is rising to toast his men, but he surprises the three mutineers with a cut down baseball bat, which he uses to beat them senseless.

Once the men are close to death, guns come out to finish the job.

John Scalise has just enough energy to hold up a hand in front of his swollen, bleeding face before his killer pulls the trigger.

The bullet tears his pinky finger off before several more blast holes in his already broken body.

The three men are discovered in the early hours of the next morning.

A pair of police officers just across the state border in Hammond, Indiana, stumble across an abandoned car around 1.30.

Kneeling on the floor, their torsos slumped across the seat are Scalise and Guinta.

And Selmy's body lies some 20 feet away, sprawled out on the road.

Later, a pathologist will remark that he never saw such badly beaten bodies.

The trio were once trusted members of Capone's outfit, but their boss hadn't hesitated to kill them.

If anyone thought Capone has gone soft since he moved to Miami, then the vicious murders persuade them otherwise.

After that, some of Capone's enemies decide that challenging the mobster isn't worth the risk.

But the headline-making assassinations have the opposite effect on others in the underworld.

Capone has long preached the word of his mentor and predecessor, Johnny Torrio.

To hear Capone tell it, there's enough business for everyone, so competition is a waste of time and energy.

Violence should only ever be a last resort for men in their line of work.

After the last few months though, it seems like Capone is all talk.

And whether he likes it or not, that kind of hypocrisy will come at a price.

It's May 13th, 1929, three months after the St.

Valentine's Day Massacre, and Al Capone is soaking up the sun once again, this time in Atlantic City.

The 30-year-old mobsters just arrived for a summit with the rest of the country's most influential dons to discuss the state of affairs in their industry.

Waltzing along the Atlantic City boardwalk, Capone's looking sharp in a lime green suit and white fedora.

There are infamous gangsters here from New York, New Jersey, Detroit, Boston, Philadelphia, New Orleans and Miami.

But all eyes are fixed on Capone, and it's not just his bold personal style that's drawing attention this way.

Throughout his rise to power, Capone has freely granted interviews to journalists and even held press conferences in his office.

He's always believed that no matter what the circumstances, he can shape the narrative about himself to his benefit.

In every conversation with the press, he paints himself as a caring family man, a doting father and a successful entrepreneur.

He'll often allude to his criminal activities, but with a wink and a nudge and a loud insistence that all his business dealings are above board.

But if there's one thing that Capone loves, it's attention.

Other leaders are discreet when they arrange hits on enemies and traitors.

They don't coordinate broad daylight car chases through the streets of Manhattan, as Capone did when he had Frankie Yale killed.

And they don't slaughter seven men in the middle of a residential area, as Capone did on St.

Valentine's Day.

Capone's very public activities have now won him special interest from the White House.

But any federal crackdown on him is likely to affect others in the industry as well, and they're not happy.

So as Capone meets with other gangsters from around the country, he becomes aware that he's not a popular man.

And in this world, unpopularity is more than enough reason to get a guy bumped off.

Once he realizes that, Capone can't relax in Atlantic City.

He knows that every handshake could be a preamble to his murder.

So as he and other dons discuss ways to consolidate power within their ranks, Capone begins formulating an unconventional escape plan.

The Atlantic City Summit of 1929 results in the formation of what's known as the Commission.

Capone's former mentor Johnny Torrio comes out of retirement to head up the organization, which is designed to consolidate power and regulate the activities of America's largest crime syndicates.

The most important takeaway is the same as the fragile peace Capone once brokered in Chicago.

The violence will end.

Each of the separate operations agree to keep their businesses as bloodless as possible.

And when murder is called for, it will happen quietly with minimal theatrics.

Capone can get the hint.

Still, he can't help being Capone.

When he leaves Atlantic City, he boasts to anyone who listened that it was he who beseeched his colleagues to see reason, and it was his leadership that won them round.

But behind the bravado, Capone seems to know his position isn't so secure.

On the afternoon of May 16, Capone is heading back to Chicago from Atlantic City.

But for some reason, he stops in Philadelphia to take in a movie.

A pair of local detectives recognize Capone as he and his bodyguards enter a theater in the early evening.

Figuring it's a good chance to show their comrades in Illinois how it's done, the cops stake out the theater, ready to pounce.

It's a little after 7 p.m.

when the show lets out, and the detectives wade through the crowd making a beeline for Capone.

When they show him their badges, he calmly admits that he's carrying a gun and hands it over, as does his bodyguard.

Within moments, both men are arrested on weapons possession charges.

Capone soon appears in court where he pleads guilty to the charges against him and is sentenced to 12 months in prison.

Less than a day after gathering with the country's most powerful mob bosses, the mightiest of them all has been undone by a chance encounter in a movie theater.

But there are some in the criminal fraternity who have doubts over just how random this encounter with the police really was.

It's well known that by now, Capone doesn't usually carry a weapon for exactly this reason, so that if some enterprising young cop decides to harass him, they won't have any legitimate reason to arrest him.

And that's not the only strange part of this chapter.

The speed at which everything moved is unusual.

In just 16 hours, Capone was arrested, charged and appeared before a judge.

And for a man who usually carries thousands of dollars on him, Capone claimed to have no cash to make bail.

Instead, he opted to plead guilty and take the time in prison.

To some, this all seems very convenient.

Just as Capone was beginning to feel vulnerable, he's managed to find a sanctuary where no one can touch him.

Of course, Capone denies the accusation that the whole thing was a setup, but it's a persistent rumor, especially as his time in prison seems a remarkably relaxing one.

There are reports that he's furnished his cell with luxury items and is allowed to employ fellow inmates as servants.

Still, it's not the same as home, and Capone is looking forward to getting out when the time comes.

Back in Chicago, the outfit operates largely as it ever did.

Capone's faithful lieutenants, including his older brother Ralph, keep the ship moving.

At least that is until the night of October 8, 1929.

That evening, Ralph Capone is at Chicago Stadium when federal officers show up to arrest him for tax evasion.

Although he argues that he's got no income, his bank account says otherwise.

That's all the feds need to move forward with charges.

But while one Capone brother is facing jail time, the other is counting down his days left behind bars.

Al Capone's good behavior has earned him an early release.

So on the evening of March 16, 1930, preparations are made to free America's most famous criminal from prison.

Crowds gather around the entrance to the Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia.

Capone is due to walk out of the gates on the 17th, and hundreds of curious locals mix with excited journalists, all of them eager to catch a glimpse of the notorious mob boss as his captivity ends, presumably at midnight.

Undoubtedly, there's also one or two enemies among the waiting throng.

They're weapons trained on the still closed gate, ready to take their shot.

But midnight comes, and there's no sight of Capone.

As the hours tick by, people wonder whether the release will even happen today.

Still, the crowd swells throughout the day, reaching close to 500 in one stage.

Then, at 8pm, the prison warden emerges to make the announcement.

Capone is already gone.

He was spirited away from the penitentiary 24 hours earlier, and the first oblivious onlookers hadn't even noticed.

The frustrated crowd disperses while the warden chuckles.

And as the news of the mobster's covert release spreads throughout the country, the questions on everyone's lips are the same.

Where is Al Capone?

Where will he go now that he's free, and more importantly, what does he have planned next?

From Airship, this is episode 3 in our series about Al Capone.

On the next episode, as the Great Depression surges, federal agents unveiled the case they've been building against Capone for years.

If you'd like to learn more about Al Capone, we recommend Mr.

Capone, The Real and Complete Story of Al Capone by Robert J.

Schoenberg.

Capone, His Life, Legacy and Legend by Deidre Blair.

And Get Capone, The Secret Plot That Captured America's Most Wanted Gangster by Jonathan I.

This episode may contain reenactments or dramatized details.

And while in some cases we can't know exactly what happened, all our dramatizations are based on historical research.

American Criminal is hosted, edited and produced by me, Jeremy Schwartz.

Audio Editing by Mohammed Shazeed.

Sound Design by Matthew Filler.

Music by Thronk.

This episode is written and researched by Joel Callan.

Managing Producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are Joel Callan, William Simpson and Lindsey Graham for Airship.

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