Flawless: Inside the Largest Diamond Heist in History (29 page)

Prosecutors asked for five years for Notarbartolo’s involvement in the Diamond Center heist as well as an additional five years for being the alleged leader of this criminal organization, an enhancement that meant a potential of ten years total punishment for him.

Because no plea bargains were permitted in Belgium, the case would go to trial. And the trial against all the suspects would commence regardless of the fact that three of them were enjoying a life of ease in Italy since Belgian law allowed defendants to be tried in absentia. But even if they were convicted in Belgium, at the time the odds were that all they had to do was stay in Italy to avoid doing time. As a practical matter, before legal changes that were still two years away, it would have been next to impossible for Belgium to get Italy to extradite its citizens in a case such as this.

In terms of house arrests, there were worse options than being confined to Italy.

The collection of evidence took weeks and the cooperation of law enforcement in four different countries. While almost every new discovery seemed to further implicate Notarbartolo, the investigation also cast doubt on the involvement of Crudo, Zwiep, and Falleti.

The police eventually learned that three of the four suspects they had in custody had airtight alibis for the time of the heist. Falleti’s employer confirmed that at the time of the robbery, late Saturday night, he had been busy at his job as a parking enforcer in Haarlem. Since he worked for the local police there, this was a solid alibi. Zwiep was able to prove she had been in the Netherlands as well, and Crudo was confirmed to have been in Italy during the heist. The only person in custody without a meaningful alibi was Notarbartolo.

Still, strong alibis for the night of the heist did not equal freedom, as their roles in the crime may have come at a later time. The wheels of justice turned excruciatingly slowly and the suspects were caught up in the machinery of the Belgian criminal justice system.

For criminal matters, Belgium, with a justice system based on that of France, had four levels of court. The nature of the heist was such that the suspects bypassed the Tribunal de Police, which heard minor criminal matters. The court of first instance—Tribunal de Première Instance—was known as the Correctional Court, but unlike in the United States, the defendants did not have the right to a jury trial; juries were used with only very serious offenses, and such cases were heard at the Cour d’Assises. Instead of a jury, a panel of three judges would decide their fates. Following the Correctional Court, there was an appellate court, the Court of Appeal of Antwerp. All that remained after that stage was the Supreme Court, the Cour de Cassation, which exclusively handled appeals of law, not of fact.

Getting to court, however, was an exercise in patience. Court dockets in Antwerp were notoriously overburdened. Each courtroom was regularly booked with as many as twenty cases a day even though judges rarely got through more than five, which led to interminable delays. The situation was further hampered by overly complex procedures, outdated information management systems, and a budget that failed to keep up with the demands of the justice system.
De Standaard
newspaper reporter Jean-Charles Verwaest once wrote that it seemed at times like Belgian politicians didn’t want a functional court system since they consistently failed to address its flaws.

While waiting for the courtroom appearances, Falleti and Notarbartolo fell into the routines of prison life. Authorities assigned Falleti to outfit new prisoners with clothing, and Notarbartolo read stacks of books and prepared his case. They had been separated from each other only during their initial week of incarceration; since then, the two old friends were part of the general population, and they frequently sought each other out in the exercise yard. They played soccer or walked around the perimeter discussing their circumstances. Other inmates treated them with respect; their reputations as alleged master thieves who pulled off a major heist was bolstered by rumors that they were in the Mafia.

Notarbartolo was courteous toward the people he dealt with, whether they were guards or fellow prisoners. The only exception was the time Notarbartolo punched an inmate who was giving Falleti a hard time. The man was a new arrival and apparently didn’t know the prison-yard status of the two Italians. As soon as he hit the prisoner, Notarbartolo was backed up by others and the fight was over quickly. Notarbartolo and Falleti had no further problems.

Once, while talking in the exercise yard, Notarbartolo apologized for the mess he’d gotten his friend into, explaining that he’d thought the apartment would be empty by the time the police arrived. Falleti was a man of good spirits, whose strong Italian values made him cherish friends and family. Given their long history, Notarbartolo was a bit of both to him; it was easy for him to forgive his friend.

Actually, Falleti found himself oddly relaxed in prison. Of course he worried about his family and wanted to clear his name, but he enjoyed the fact that, while behind bars, he didn’t have to worry about bills, work, and other everyday stresses. Still, he continued to meet with the authorities to appear cooperative in his ongoing attempts to convince them that he wasn’t a thief. Falleti met with investigators as often as twice a week, and he was asked the same questions over and over. Each time, the investigators were just as dissatisfied with his answers as they had been the time before. Falleti felt like he was on a merry-go-round. Meanwhile, Notarbartolo stuck by the last words he’d said to Peys and refused to speak to investigators.

The men and their wives went before a judge again on Friday, March 28, 2003, and Falleti hoped he and Zwiep would go free on bail pending their trials. All recent evidence pointed toward their innocence: tests showed that the gloves and tape found at their house did not match those used in the heist, DNA tests showed no connection between the couple and any items found in the vault or in the Floordambos, and SIM card analysis showed that none of Falleti’s known telephone numbers was among those used on the closed phone network. The couple’s wish was granted, and after they’d spent five weeks in jail, the court granted Falleti and Zwiep bail. Falleti had to pay
2,500 and agree to return to Antwerp upon request or risk arrest. Zwiep was released on her own recognizance. Her children were waiting for her in the Netherlands; a relative had retrieved them after they’d spent three days at Paola Kinderziekenhuis.

In early May, Crudo was released pending her trial. She had been in jail for more than two months.

Falleti might have been out of jail, but he was far from resuming the life he’d left behind in February. As he fought to get his job back and worried about the effects of his imprisonment on his children, his relationship with his wife started to crumble under the perpetual fear they might lose their cases and end up serving five years in prison.

The police searched Falleti’s sister’s home in the Belgian capital of Brussels (cell phone records indicated at least one of the thieves had gone to that city), telling her that, if she refused to answer their questions, she would be arrested. On August 19, 2003, the diamond detectives contacted Falleti and demanded that he return to Antwerp to answer additional questions. He had no choice but to comply; if he refused, it would be a breach of his bail agreement and a new warrant would be issued for his arrest.

During this new round of interrogation, the police peppered Falleti with detailed questions about his phone calls with Notarbartolo. They found it suspicious that Notarbartolo was the only person Falleti had called on that prepaid phone even though he knew other people abroad, such as his sister. The explanation that Notarbartolo was the only person he regularly called abroad did not placate them.

Detectives also found it suspicious that Falleti had called Notarbartolo from both his prepaid and normal phones. Though this contradicted his prior statement that he only called Notarbartolo on the prepaid, it should have helped clear him. It was significant that Falleti called the same number from both phones; it showed he wasn’t trying to hide his contacts with Notarbartolo in the way someone who had dialed to and from only the secret numbers would have. But instead of seeing it this way, the police interpreted this as Falleti’s having lied to them before in an attempt to conceal the extent of his communication with Notarbartolo.

The diamond detectives also believed Falleti stored Notarbartolo’s phone numbers under
P
and
Tarrun
as an attempt to conceal his friend’s identity. Falleti’s nickname explanations, repeated numerous times in the past, were ignored. Italian cultural habits did not translate well in Belgium.

Despite his cooperation, Falleti’s bail was revoked and the police put him back in jail. Detectives felt that their case against him was strengthening and that, therefore, he might pose a flight risk. “This uncertainty is killing us,” Falleti said about this back-and-forth legal process. “We got into this adventure by pure coincidence.”

Back in jail, Falleti and Notarbartolo were soon reunited. They went back to their old routines and were even allowed to share a cell. Notarbartolo slept in the top bunk while Falleti had the bottom one. Falleti found his friend to be a fastidious cellmate, taking care to perfectly make his bed first thing in the morning. Together, they cooked Italian food using a hot plate in their cell and ingredients bought at the prison’s store. All they missed was wine to go with it.

While the defendants awaited their day in court, detectives in Belgium and Italy continued to scour Europe for more than just additional suspects and clues. They were also looking, so far in vain, for any trace of the estimated
100 million to
400 million worth of diamonds, jewelry, and gold.