Meanwhile, in Palermo . . .

By Amy Wilentz

Two massive blue tanks guard the entrance to the specially built $19 million courthouse, and at least 25 guards keep watch outside. An underground tunnel is used to shuttle prisoners from the adjacent L'Ucciardone Prison into a succession of holding pens in the enormous courtroom. The scene is Palermo, Sicily, where for seven months a Mafia trial that dwarfs the various legal proceedings in New York has been under way. In the homeland of the Cosa Nostra, 474 alleged Mafiosi, whose ranks range from the reputed "Boss of Bosses," Luciano Liggio, to a corps of picciotti, or soldiers, are in the dock for crimes as high as assassination and as low as auto theft.

No verdict is expected before next March, a daunting prospect for the two judges, six jurors, two prosecutors and 60-some lawyers working to bring the case to a close. The trial's duration may mean losing some of the minor defendants as their maximum pretrial detention period expires. Perhaps presaging limited results for Palermo, a Mob appeals trial in Naples ended last week with directed acquittals for 114 of 191 defendants.

As in Palermo, much of the evidence in the original Naples case was based on the testimony of pentiti (repentant) or vengeful organized-crime members who have decided to turn state's evidence. Prosecutors are worried that convictions based solely on the testimony of former Syndicate lieutenants will not stick.

Some of the pentiti brought before the bench in Palermo have been impressive. Tommaso (Don Masino) Buscetta was known as the "Boss of Two Worlds" because he used to control extensive operations in both Italy and Brazil. Buscetta, who testified in New York's "pizza connection" trial about heroin smuggling between U.S. and Sicilian mobsters, provided new evidence about the operations of the Mafia's ruling Commission. A second pentito, the mid-level Mob executive Salvatore (Toto) Contorno, made detailed accusations against defendants based on his firsthand knowledge of the Mafia's internecine warfare over the drug market in the early 1980s, when Sicily was the heroin- refining capital of the world. At one point, Contorno turned to the cages where defendants are being held and pointed to several, accusing them of trying to kill him.

A third key witness is the confessed hit man Vincenzo Sinagra, an underling who used to take home $250 a month in his grisly job, waiting around on street corners for his next assignment. Sinagra led the police on a tour of his clan's torture chamber. There he showed them bloodstained ropes, brickbats and a vat in which, he said, bodies were dumped into acid.

When Buscetta began giving his testimony in April, a high school student in a balcony reserved for the public called out "Forza, Masino!" (be strong), demonstrating the support some Sicilians feel for curbing the continuing Mafia violence on their island.

Oddly enough, petty crime on the streets of Palermo has increased since a surprise sweep two years ago rounded up 53 of the prisoners now on trial. Investigators believe that with so many of the big bosses in jail, the lesser lights, with no other source of employment or income, have turned to purse snatching for pocket money.

"I don't kid myself that this (trial) is the end of the Mafia," says Palermo Prosecutor Giusto Sciacchitano. "It wasn't born yesterday, and it may not end with this. You can't destroy the Mafia with just one trial." Nonetheless, Italian and U.S. authorities are optimistic that the Palermo trial will at least choke back some of the Syndicate's activities. "The New York and Sicilian trials are two sides of the same coin," says Sciacchitano. "We have had a continual swapping of help and information. We are prosecuting the same organization."

With reporting by Judith Harris/Palermo