KOSSACK ACTION NEEDED FOR THIS ONE.
NY TIMES.
Wall Street CEO George Anderson of EEI got drunk. He got in his Mercedes 450GL SUV and barrelled up Water Street at 60 mph. Created a deadly hazard. Then he struck a pedestrian, Florence Cioffi. Drove off. No assistance rendered.
Charges in 2008: vehicular manslaughter, criminally negligent homicide, felony DUI, and leaving the scene (for 20 minutes.)
D.A. is now proposing this sentence: 16 days and a $350 fine.
The price of a human life.
New York State Attorney General Andrew Cuomo can appoint a Special Prosecutor.
PLEASE, REQUEST A SPECIAL PROSECUTOR
- Attorney General Andrew Cuomo 1-800-771-7755
- Governor David Paterson 518-474-8390
- Mayor Bloomberg 212-NEW-YORK
Manahattan's D.A. is 89-year old Robert Morgenthau. Helpless at management. Bribery and favors have prevented prosecution of Dot.Com and Wall Street perps for decades.
This case is far off the rails. We can find no parallel in NY State legal history. A year sentence is the minimum. More below :::
Kossack action :::
-- Contact Andrew Cuomo
-- Contact national media: NY Times, LA Times, WaPo, CBS, NBC, Chi Trib, Times of London
-- Contact local media. Anybody, everybody.
ADA Erin LaFarge back in 2008, in Court, "The woman (Flo Cioffi) flew into the air and was killed."
Anderson is Wall Street royalty. CEO of EEI, 115 Broadway. Works with Merrill Lynch, JPMorgan Chase, Morgan Stanley, Fidelity Investments, Wells Fargo, Putnam Investments, Lehman Brothers, UBS and more. Multimillionaire. Mercedes and BMW.
Sold a Hamptons house for $6,000,000.
Flo Cioffi had been at an office party celebrating her looming 60th birthday.
The big question, here, is corruption.
16 days and $350 for a 60 mph urban DUI killing and leaving the scene ???
Why would money not be changing hands ???
Legal minimum with Reckless Endangerment -- driving 60 mph down Water Street -- is a year in prison. Maximum on the lesser charges would be 2 1/3 years. Normal sentencing for a DUI killing starts at 2 years. Leaving the Scene of the fatal accident increases the sentence.
This case is now sitting with ADA David Hammer. Lord knows if this prosecutor is on the take.
Failure to prosecute Wall Street royalty -- a terrible disease. Indeed, this echos the carriage scene from "A Tale of Two Cities."
Text of Dickens's "A Tale of Two Cities."
The complaint had sometimes made itself audible, even in that deaf city and dumb age, that, in the narrow streets without footways, the fierce patrician custom of hard driving endangered and maimed the mere vulgar in a barbarous manner. But, few cared enough for that to think of it a second time, and, in this matter, as in all others, the common wretches were left to get out of their difficulties as they could.
With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment of consideration not easy to be understood in these days, the carriage dashed through streets and swept round corners, with women screaming before it, and men clutching each other and clutching children out of its way. At last, swooping at a street corner by a fountain, one of its wheels came to a sickening little jolt, and there was a loud cry from a number of voices, and the horses reared and plunged.
But for the latter inconvenience, the carriage probably would not have stopped; carriages were often known to drive on, and leave their wounded behind, and why not? But the frightened valet had got down in a hurry, and there were twenty hands at the horses' bridles.
"What has gone wrong?" said Monsieur, calmly looking out.
A tall man in a nightcap had caught up a bundle from among the feet of the horses, and had laid it on the basement of the fountain, and was down in the mud and wet, howling over it like a wild animal.
"Pardon, Monsieur the Marquis!" said a ragged and submissive man, "it is a child."
"Why does he make that abominable noise? Is it his child?"
"Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis -- it is a pity -- yes."
The fountain was a little removed; for the street opened, where it was, into a space some ten or twelve yards square. As the tall man suddenly got up from the ground, and came running at the carriage, Monsieur the Marquis clapped his hand for an instant on his sword-hilt.
"Killed!" shrieked the man, in wild desperation, extending both arms at their length above his head, and staring at him. "Dead!"
The people closed round, and looked at Monsieur the Marquis. There was nothing revealed by the many eyes that looked at him but watchfulness and eagerness; there was no visible menacing or anger. Neither did the people say anything; after the first cry, they had been silent, and they remained so. The voice of the submissive man who had spoken, was flat and tame in its extreme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes over them all, as if they had been mere rats come out of their holes.
He took out his purse.
"It is extraordinary to me," said he, "that you people cannot take care of yourselves and your children. One or the other of you is for ever in the way. How do I know what injury you have done my horses. See! Give him that."
He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the heads craned forward that all the eyes might look down at it as it fell. The tall man called out again with a most unearthly cry, "Dead!"
He was arrested by the quick arrival of another man, for whom the rest made way. On seeing him, the miserable creature fell upon his shoulder, sobbing and crying, and pointing to the fountain, where some women were stooping over the motionless bundle, and moving gently about it. They were as silent, however, as the men.
"I know all, I know all," said the last comer. "Be a brave man, my Gaspard! It is better for the poor little plaything to die so, than to live.
So -- now -- with Florence Cioffi. Her life valued by the New York District Attorney Office at 16 days and $350.
We beg your pity. We miserable creatures.