I contacted the U.S. Attorney General of Massachusetts for permission to interview, Dimitri Vasalosvkev and his wife Lada Yegrov.
Vasalosvkev has information on the Russian Mafiya selling arms to Jihadist terrorists in the Boston area. He will testify only if his criminal charges are dropped and he and his wife are placed into the Witness Protection Program.
Vasalosvkev is wanted by NYPD on three murder warrants. Lada Yegrov, his wife is wanted as a co-conspirator.
The Massachusetts State Police captured the couple on December 18th, in the City of Brockton. Since then they have been in protective custody at the U.S. Marshalls Safe House in Sheldonville.
He has been charged with possession of high-powered weapons, ammunition, assaulting a state trooper and possession of cocaine. Federal charges are pending for the interstate flight to avoid prosecution.
A secret grand jury in New York City indicted Vasalosvkev on three counts of first-degree murder. Lada Yegrov was indicted as a co-conspirator. She drove the get-away car.
State Police Robbery Homicide Detectives, Sergeant David Bellman and Sergeant Joseph McFarland went to the Safe House several days ago.
They were seeking information on the Armored Car Heist, the home invasion and the eight murders. Evidence suggests that the Russian Mafiya is responsible for the robbery and murders.
On that day there were three murders at the McWeathers home including the two McWeathers children. The home invader was shot and killed when he attempted to rape Rebecca McWeathers. Also on that day, there were five murders at the McWeathers Gold Manufacturing Company.
We met with Sgt. Bellman regarding Vasalosvkev.
‘Marcus he refuses to talk with any Law Enforcement Agency. At least until he gets a commitment for Witness Protection, that’s what he told us. And he wants all of his criminal charges dropped. He will not co-operate with anyone. You might have better luck with him.’ Bellman wasn’t happy.
Drivng to the Sheldonville, we talked about getting Vasalosvkev to talk.
‘Bellman said Vasalosvkev isn’t talking, right. I think I know how to get him to talk.’ ‘How? Genius.’ ‘I’ll bet you a cup of coffee, okay that I can get him to talk.’ ‘I’m listening.’
‘Okay, Vasalosvkev has been locked up for four weeks and the Marshalls won’t let him visit or talk to his wife. I’ll offer him a deal. Here’s where you are about to lose the bet. If you talk to us Dimitri, I’ll make arrangements so that you can see Lada tonight. You can sleep with her and maybe get laid. Ya, think he might talk? Ya, think he might just want to get laid, tonight.’ ‘Yep, you win, I owe you a coffee. I ain’t arguing with that, but that’s bribery.’
From the Lake to Sheldonville, takes a little over one-hour.
The only way to get there is on one lane country rural roads through several quaint New England towns with long traffic lights.
The Safe House property sits on three hundred and fifty acres of woodlands. And well-hidden off of a one-and-a-half-mile narrow dead-end dirt road. Few people outside of Law Enforcement know the Safe House exists.
Armed Federal Marshalls patrol the property on ATV’S and carrying, M4’s.
Trespass signs warn unauthorized entry onto Government Property is subject to arrest. Vehicles entering the property are stopped, searched and escorted out.
Heavily armed Marshalls stopped us at the entrance to property and asked us for Law Enforcement Identification. We completed a questionnaire form as to why we were there and who we were visiting. They were expecting us and escorted to the Safe House.
We surrendered our weapons and briefed on protocol and Vasalosvkev’s criminal history and violent background.
‘Be careful with this guy. He has black belts and for that reason, he will be shackled and escorted by four U.S. Marshalls and they will remain outside the door.
We were escorted to a room with a long conference table.
I put a voice recorder and a folder on the table with Lada Yegrov’s name written on the cover in large black letters.
The Marshalls brought Vasalosvkev to the room in handcuffs and leg irons. At the door he stopped and shook his head, no.
He was seated across from us.
‘Fuck this, I ain’t talking. Not fucking talking. You hear me, you are wasting your fucking time with me. I told those assholes the other day that I’m not talking until I get into the Federal Witness Protection Program. I want that in writing. That was the agreement when I was arrested. Are you state police?’ He was talking loud with angry facial expressions.
Bash looked at me and smiled. ‘Can you believe this.’ I turned the recorder on.
‘Dimitri, we are Federal Agents with the Department of Homeland Security Counterterrorism Unit. I’m Agent Marcus Sauvino and this is Agent Scott Bashnagel.’
‘That’s good. I’m not talking. Not until I get Witness Protection. You must understand that.’ He stood up as if to leave the room.
‘Why don’t you have a seat and let’s see if I can straighten out your problem.’ ‘Fuck you, I ain’t talking.’
‘Dimitri. Listen, I have the authorization for Lada Yegrov’s, deportation process. I can start it today.’ I showed him the folder.
How do you feel about that? Huh. You’ll never see her again. You’ll be in jail and she’ll be fucking somebody else in Russia.
I will have her back in Russia in the next two weeks. You want that to happen? I slapped the folder. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Now sit the fuck down and listen to me.
Today, I can have the Federal Marshalls transport her to Federal Court in Boston. And I can have you brought to the Federal Detention center to await the decision on Witness Protection. You won’t have the luxuries you now have in a prison. If you don’t want to cooperate then I can do this now.’
I called for the Marshalls. ‘Hey guys. We have a problem with the prisoner. He is not cooperating. At the time of his arrest he agreed to co-operate. Take him back to his cell.’
‘Whoa. Whoa. Hold on. Let’s think about this for a minute. I can talk, I’ll talk.’
‘You’re sure? You’re sure that you’re ready to talk to us, right?’
‘Yes. We talk.’
‘Let’s remove his shackles and if you would standby outside the room. He may change his mind and not talk. If he becomes aggressive, he goes. I’m not fucking putting up with him.’
‘That’s not protocol, sir. We are not allowed to remove the shackles, sorry.’
Vasalosvkev, calmed down.
‘Dimitri, we want information on Russian Organized Crime specifically selling arms to terrorists and who the arms dealers are?
Protective custody and the “Witness Protection Program,” depends on information you give me today and that you will testify in a court of law.
I will bring that information to the United States Attorney General in Massachusetts who is the only person that is authorized to place you and Lada in the Witness Protection Program.
I shut the recorder off.
Lada can stay here with you. Oh, speaking of Lada. When was the last time you talked to her?’ ‘Three weeks, I think. Long time. They won’t let me see her. I’m locked up day and night and I think Lada is, too.’
‘Okay. My deal for you. Today and today only. Give me the information I need to bring to the Attorney General.
And you agree to testify against the arms dealers. You do that and I will let you sleep with Lada tonight. Cooperate with me and you could get laid, tonight. Yes, no? What do you think? Do you want to talk?
‘Yes. You mean that? His smile lit up like a neon sign. Thankyou. I will talk but I need to eat. I’m hungry and I need to smoke a cigarette. You have made me happy and I will talk.’
Bash asked the Marshalls about sandwiches, and cigarettes.
The Marshall laughed. ‘The fucker just ate breakfast an hour ago. He thinks this is a goddamn restaurant.’ The Marshall walked away laughing.
Twenty minutes later they brought a pot of coffee, cigarettes, a pile of ham and cheese sandwiches and a large bowl of potato chips.
We ate and drank coffee with him. And, we laughed and joked and became his buddy. Breaking bread and talking about Russia and about nothing relaxed him.
Vasalosvkev scoffed the sandwiches down like a hungry dog and when he finished eating, chain smoked one cigarette after another.
I turned the recorder on.
‘Okay, now that we ate and drank coffee, let’s talk about the armored car heist. What do you know about that heist? Whatever you tell us would be beneficial to your request for the witness protection program. The AG would seriously take that into consideration knowing you are co-operating.
‘It was authorized by Vladamir Zhadanov, the Vor v Zakone and the head of the New England Mafiya. He has an army of bratoks, ruthless, sadistic, brutal and vicious soldiers. All are ex-Russian military special forces.
Zhadanov’s best crew it. I know they did it. Be careful they kill cops. He has unemployed ex-Russian military that own Russian military guns.
‘Tell us about Zhadanov. Exactly who is he and what is his role in New England?’ He makes promises not threats. He is a vicious former Gulag prisoner and is head of the Organizatisiya.
‘Zhadanov says he is a lawyer, but he is not a Lawyer and is the New England crime boss. He has been selling arms to terrorists for long time. Sergei Rakanov is avtoritet in New York. He supplies the arms to Zhadanov and Zhadanov supplies the guns and bombs to terrorists.’
‘Okay. Zhadanov’s crew? Give me their names.’ The avtoritet is Gleb Bobrik. Bobrik is devoted soldier to Zhadanov. Isaac Volikov, Miron Grankin, Nikolai Zherdev, Igor Preutein and Ivan Lisousvkii. Lisousvkii is Sergei’s cousin. They are all nuts, crazy bastards and trained killers. Former Russian military. I think that is all of them, maybe more I don’t know all his men.’
‘Igor Preutein is dead. He was shot in a home invasion on the day of the heist. Lisousvkii, is in prison awaiting trial for murder. Where do we find these other soldiers?’
‘The two dead Russians were gopnik, that means stupid idiots. Good luck. (He laughed). They could be, hiding out, anywhere. When Zhadanov, wants them they come. They could be in Brighton Beach or in Miami.’
‘Where do we find Zhadanov?’ ‘Miami in winter.’
‘How did Zhadanov know about the gold shipment?’ ‘That was inside job.’ ‘Inside. Who is the inside person?’ ‘Russian gambler. He owed money to loan sharks, to bookies, to Sergei.’ ‘What’s this man’s name?’ ‘Don’t know.’ ‘Did he work for the gold company?’ ‘I think so. I hear, yes and I don’t know his name. I know Sergei was, pissed because he never paid the debt. He wanted to kill him.
The gambler talked his way out of getting killed by setting up the robbery in exchange for Sergei to erase the debt. Sergei told me twenty-five million dollars of gold was in armored car.’ ‘Where would they hide that gold?’ ‘I think I know.’ I shut off the recorder.
Zhadanov is owner of Fur Storage business in Boston a front for safe deposit boxes. It’s a big vault in basement. That’s where I think the gold is.’
‘Where in Boston?’ ‘South Boston.’ ‘Do you have a safe deposit box there?’ ‘Yes, I have cash.’ ‘How much cash? ‘Hundred thousand.’
‘Okay, what’s the name of this Fur Storage place?’ ‘I think, Conley. No, no. Conroy Fur Storage.’ ‘So, who keeps money at this place? ‘Bookies, loan sharks, Zhadanov. Russian gangsters hide money. Millions and millions of dollars in cash, guns, gold coins, gold bars.
You want to get rich, go rob the place.’ ‘Dimitri, we’re cops not crooks.’ ‘So, where is this vault?’
‘There is a door in back room under carpet with stairs that go to basement. Vault is hidden behind pad locked door.’
‘What do they have for security? ‘Four old ladies, Russians.’ ‘How many vaults are there in this basement?’ ‘Hundreds. They big. Big enough for, AK’S. The locks are high strength steel.’
‘How many times have you been there?’ ‘Many. I keep money, jewelry, guns.’ ‘How often do you or did you come to Boston?’ ‘When I need money.’ ‘Good answer.’ I turned the recorder on.
‘Zhadanov, where does he live?’ ‘He has penthouse in Boston. And, has Penthouse in Florida in Sunny Isles Beach, near Miami. Sunny Isles is little Moscow. Russian mobsters live there, in winter.’ ‘What else can you tell us?’
‘Zhadanov deals in counterfeit money. He sells to Chechen Mafiya. They buy and sell funny money to fund their operations. Chechen terrorists sell bad heroin laced with Fentanyl. They want to kill young Americans. Sell, Opioids too.’ ‘What else?’ ‘Zhadanov has beautiful mistress. Works for him at truck stop.’ ‘Where, what truck stop?’ ‘Sturbridge. I think.’ ‘What’s her name?’ ‘Olga. Beautiful. Hot stuff. Zhadanov’s men bring her to Penthouse. He gives money, cars, trips everything. She is mail order bride from Ukraine. Married to truck driver, never home.’
‘Dimitri, the guns, where do they come from.’ ‘From Russia. Sergei buys military surplus and sells to Zhadanov and he sells to terrorists. The guns come in containers to New York or New Jersey.’ ‘Next shipment. When does that come in?’ ‘Don’t know.’
‘How many shipments have gone through? ‘I think two.’ ‘Okay, any idea where they were dropped off?’ ‘No.’
‘You will need to testify against Rakanov and Zhadanov in order to get into the Federal Witness Protection program.’ ‘I will. I will testify.’
‘You will be kept here at the safe house until the approval of witness protection. In the meantime, I will talk with the United States Attorney General in Boston about getting this approved. You gave us something of value’
‘Were done for today. (I shut the recorder off.) But we will be back. Plan on it. You can go back to your room now and I will talk to the Marshalls about you sleeping with Lada tonight.
Driving home, I said to Bash.
‘You owe me a coffee.’ ‘I never doubted that for one minute. You have a gift.’
‘Marcus how about this. Remember what Vasalosvkev just told us about the Fur Storage joint?’ ‘Yeah, what about it?’ ‘He said the vault has millions and millions in cash in those vaults. And maybe the gold from the McWeather’s robbery.’ ‘Yeah. I’m listening.’ ‘I’m thinking about the gold and the cash. We could get search warrants and hit the place. You and me, right.’ ‘What are you trying to say?’ ‘I’m saying we could get rich. That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ ‘Fuck. You are nuts. We could get killed doing, I mean robbing the place. What if the Russians, find out who we are? We would be running for the rest of our lives. Put that thought on hold, brother.’