Caught in Tale of Revenge and Death
By David Gonzalez - The New York Times
February 28, 1993
To
those who knew him, Elliot Lopez did not seem to be the sort of
teen-ager likely to be seduced by the street code of easy money,
short tempers and rapid retribution. A star athlete with a ready
smile, his goal was college and a way out of a South Bronx
neighborhood whose streetcorners were dotted with dozens of other
young men who had long ago traded the promise of the future for
the grim pickings of the present.
But there were times when it appeared that his
perspective on the crazy life was more than that of an outsider.
"He knew some wild people," recalled Kent
Wargowsky, his track coach at Morris High School, who remembered
him being greeted on the street by swaggering young men with gold
chains. "Elliot was such a nice person, yet he knew who the bad
people were, but not, like, stay away from them."
One person Mr. Lopez knew was Anthony Casellas
-- his sister was a friend of Mr. Casellas's wife, Lourdes.
Flanked by his associates, Mr. Casellas strode through the streets
near East 161st Street and Tinton Avenue, leading a loosely knit
drug gang, neighbors and the police say.
'Tato' and 'Ding Ding'
At some point -- no one seemed quite sure when
-- Elliot joined his crew. They grew close; on the street, Elliot
Lopez and Anthony Casellas were known as "Tato" and "Ding-Ding."
And last week they were arrested and charged with being the gunmen
who lined six people up, face down, in a Mott Haven apartment on
St. Valentine's Day and killed them with single shots to the head.
The motive, the police say, was to avenge Mr. Casellas's bruised
honor after his wife had been beaten up last summer in a fight
stemming from a long-running feud.
Last Wednesday, the authorities say, the
revenge came full circle at the entrance to the Bronx County
Building, when Lourdes Casellas was fatally shot by a friend of
one of the Mott Haven victims. To the people who know Mr. Lopez,
the disquieting thought is how he could have had anything to do
with the violent revenge.
In part, the two contrasted sharply: neatly
dressed and respectful, Mr. Lopez avoided running with any one
clique. He was even-tempered, puzzled by the violence around him.
He had finished high school and had been accepted to Baruch
College, although he never enrolled.
But people in the neighborhood weren't even
sure if Mr. Casellas had finished junior high school, and they
remembered his predilection for the funky, baggy clothes -- the
high fashion of the street -- and how his temper was best left
unprovoked.
Thomas Rinaldi, Mr. Lopez's 11th grade English
teacher, remembered Elliot as one of several students who seemed
to be "on the fence."
"They were at that point where they were going
to make a decision," he said. "Temptations were presenting
themselves."
Friendly to Everyone
He was a gregarious, can-do type who got along
with everybody. That was no small accomplishment in a place where
the orbits of adolescent cliques curtail easy interaction.
His home life, according to his teachers and a
few neighbohrood acquaintances, was mixed: his mother and
stepfather were quiet, hardworking people who lived with his
siblings in an apartment on the 11th floor of the McKinley Houses,
a Bronx project. But his two brothers had had scrapes with the law
and jail, his teachers recalled.
A woman who answered the door at the family's
apartment said their lawyer had advised them not to comment.
His stepfather, a former professional
heavyweight boxer, works in contruction, said the owner of a
grocery store across the street.
Mr. Lopez's teachers said he was a jokester. In
high school, he started a small business, hiring himself out as a
clown for parties and showing up at school events dressed in
shorts and a tie that dangled near to the floor.
He was also an athlete who excelled at
cross-country running and basketball. His track coach said the
young man was almost "like a pacifist," shunning the violence that
sometimes erupted within the walls of the school.
A Beloved Son
"He did not run to blood," said Mr. Wargowsky.
"If there was a stabbing at the school, he would stand against the
wall and say it was stupid."
But he had his passions, especially the son he
had with a previous girlfriend. Mr. Wargowsky recalled how the
teen-ager would buy clothes for the child. "I know the commitment
to his son was hard," he said.
And so was, his teachers thought, his
commitment to the future.
"He acted as if he really wanted out of his
neighborhood," said Mr. Wargowsky.
But there were glimpses of another life.
During some trips to Manhattan, Mr. Wargowsky
recalled how Mr. Lopez would seem to be known to everyone,
especially the stone-faced youths on street corners. One day they
went to a store to buy a soda after a brisk jog when a man wearing
gold chains and flashing a gold-toothed smile greeted Mr. Lopez.
"He'd say, 'That used to be me,' " said Mr.
Wargowsky. "It seemed like he was a person who knew what it was
about but stayed out. He was not naive."
Along the crowded, littered streets of Mott
Haven, where burned-out apartment buildings loom above abandoned
cars and wild youth, Mr. Casellas cultivated a tough reputation.
Several residents -- none of whom would give
their names for fear of retaiiation -- described him as a smooth-talking
man who routinely dressed in the latest style and was often seen
outside a bodega near 161st Street, mingling with youths from the
neighborhood.
Girls, Cars and Gold
"What they were about was having girls, nice
cars and gold," said one man who knew Mr. Casellas and his friends.
In August 1992, he was held on Rikers Island on
a drug charge. Three years earlier, he served six months drug
charges. Police records show he also has convictions for assault,
robbery, theft with a deadly weapon and unlawful imprisonment.
Maria Santana, a neighborhood woman, was drawn
to Mr. Casellas -- an attraction that the police say ultimately
cost her her life. She was the sister of Edwin Santiago,
apparently the focus of the slayings on Feb. 14.
Anthony and Maria began dating about two years
ago and soon he virtually lived with her family, spending many
nights at their apartment, where Maria's mother, Julia, cooked for
him and did his laundry.
And while Maria wanted to marry him, according
to one woman, he seemed interested only in the practical
advantages of the relationship. "I don't think he wanted to marry
her," said the woman, a friend of Maria Sanatana. "I always felt
that he was just using her."
Even during one of his prison terms, Maria
Santana remained devoted. "She used to send him money so he could
buy stuff at the commissary," the friend said. "And he used to
phone her collect."
When he was released, Mr. Casellas's romantic
interest wandered toward Maria's old friend, Lourdes Serrano. Mr.
Casellas and Ms. Serrano, those who knew them say, dated without
Maria Santana's knowledge.
When Maria Santana found out about their
clandestine romance, she severed her ties to both of them. About a
year ago, Mr. Casellas married Ms. Serrano, and she later gave
birth to their son.
The animosity between his wife and his former
girlfriend grew, eventually erupting in a fight on a Bronx street
last summer. During the fight, Maria Santana's brother, Edwin
Santiago, came to his sister's defense and slapped the other woman,
causing her to drop her baby.
Plotting From Prison
The police say that Mr. Casellas began plotting
the killings sometime after August 1992, when Mrs. Casellas
visited her husband at Rikers Island and told him about the fight.
At the same time, Mrs. Casellas was growing
close to Mr. Lopez and his sister, according to their friends.
The friendship between Mr. Lopez and the
Casellases was such that Mr. Lopez planned to bring his clown act
to a birthday party for the Casellases' son in March.
"They were tight," said the 18-year-old friend.
The week before the slayings, according to one
woman, Mr. Casellas went to the Santiago-Santana home, professing
his love for the people he would later be accused of murdering.
The police said Mr. Casellas and Mr. Lopez, along with three
friends, returned to that apartment to extract their revenge on
the youth who had slapped Lourdes Casellas. Five others were
killed for reasons the police may never know.
Ten days later, a friend of the victims shot
and killed Lourdes Casellas.
At the end of a tale of revenge twice taken,
seven people are dead and six have been locked up and charged with
murder.
"I don't think there's anybody out there with
any further axe to grind," said one investigator. "The main
players are in custody. We don't feel there's anybody else there
left to shoot."