So the Bulger gang wanted to whack me...: How Weeks can you get?

That’s what I told Ed Bradley of “60 Minutes.” And for the record, I don’t believe any of the stuff he told Bradley about my alleged near-murder. You watch Sunday night and tell me who you believe.

So his serial-killing boss Whitey Bulger hated me. This is news? Whitey wanted to murder me. Stop the presses. There’s an old saying: Never send a boy on a man’s errand, and that’s what Kevin was, a boy. He played Robin to Whitey’s Batman.

There was a reason, after all, that his nickname was “Kevin Squeaks.” Although now he has a new moniker - “Two Weeks,” which is about how long it took the feds to flip him.

First, he tells CBS, he and Whitey “found out” that I lived in Acton. That really required some sleuthing - I lived around the corner from a close relative of Weeks, across the street from an old graveyard. Kevin’s been dining out on that Colonial cemetery for over 10 years now. I even mentioned his references to it in my book, “The Brothers Bulger,” available in fine bookstores everywhere. I only brought it up in the preface, on page ix, because I put so little stock in it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Weeks is peddling this story, because it gets me on TV and makes me look good. It’s fun to be a crusading gangbuster.

Of course, the state police knew as far back as 1999 that Weeks was talking trash about me and the graveyard. He had mentioned it to a Herald photographer at, of all places, a tanning salon in Framingham. A tanning salon! The troopers put it in a court motion for pre-trial detention.

Now, though, Weeks embellishes his favorite fable, like some aging college jock who, as the years go by, rises from benchwarmer to All-American. Only Kevin promotes himself from gravedigger to hitman.

First, he tells Ed Bradley, Whitey wanted to blow me up with C-4 plastic explosives, in a basketball, no less. Dynamite apparently was too plebeian, so they had to go with more exotic stuff. So what if Whitey was never a bomb guy, as long as it moves product off the shelves. (Did I mention my book’s title is “The Brothers Bulger?”)

Then Whitey nixes the James Bond bomb because it would hurt “innocent people,” as if he ever cared about that. Ask the survivors of Roger Wheeler, or Michael Donahue or John McIntyre or Deb Davis or Deb Hussey.

According to Weeks, Whitey then switched over to the graveyard plan. Weeks was crouching in the cemetery early one morning with a rifle trained on me as I walked out of my house. But Kevin couldn’t pull the trigger, because I had my daughter with me. Riiiiight.

Remember, this is a guy who has testified that he never tried to stop any of the murders where he was the gravedigger because if he did he’d be going into the hole too.

But this time, on the Howie hit, he passed, and didn’t end up in a hole, because Whitey . . . reconsidered.

This is a guy who said under oath he didn’t kill anybody, but now he claims he was going to pull the trigger, in a neighborhood where a close relative of his lived.

Also, forget the fact that there is a stone wall, over three feet high, at the edge of the graveyard. Everyone knows Whitey had magic guns that could shoot through walls and around corners. I’m told the “60 Minutes” crew traipsed far enough back into the cemetery to come up with what could have been an open shot on what was my front door, although I always went out the side door. That’s show biz.

I remember the last time I saw Kevin in person. It was in federal court. He said to me, “Be gentle, Howie.”

video

>>Whitey wanted to blow me up with C-4 plastic explosives, in a basketball, no less.

Caller to Howie's show, in a nod to The Godfather: "Leave the basketball. Take the cannolis."

Laurence Henry on American Spectator gave his book a pretty glowing review.

2 posted on 03/10/2006 1:25:01 AM PST by jocon307 (The Silent Majority - silent no longer)

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