Sniper on the Roof

By Warren Graffeo

Inspired by an actual event, the 1973 Howard Johnson sniper incident in New Orleans, SNIPER ON THE ROOF is a grittily realistic account of racial tension, romance and political intrigue that explores the inner workings of crime families, the police force, and the early Black Power movement in Louisiana and abroad.

Police Captain Salvatore "Rock" Rocco’s life has become an alcoholic nightmare because he believes he caused the death of his black partner, Detective Joe Johnson, during the defining moments of the civil rights movement in New Orleans, sixteen years earlier. When his dying boss arrives at a Mafia Don’s funeral and hands the police captain a battered shoebox containing evidence that Johnson is still alive, Rocco is compelled to return to that traumatic event so many years ago. He is forced to confront his own nightmares and the Roman Catholic Church in order to find resolution to the guilt and anguish he has suffered.

ISBN 978-1-61386-104-2 Mystery, Suspense, Thriller

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CHAPTER ONE

Salvatore “Rock” Rocco brushed a hand across his forearm in an unconscious response to goose bumps raised by unexpectedly cool wind blowing across his bare skin. Shirtless, he stood on the balcony of his French Quarter apartment-overlooking Jackson Square. He took another sip of steaming hot, chicory-laced, coffee while his gaze roved over the familiar scene below. Even at six-thirty in the morning, people bustled along Decatur Street. A few die-hard local artists were setting up along the wrought iron fence surrounding the square, coming early to get a favorable location from which to vend their sketches and charcoal portraits. It was also important to arrive early so as to capture a spot featuring the right light, particularly on an overcast morning. Rock’s eyes momentarily rested on the Saint Louis Cathedral. He frowned. The irony of the virginal-white sacred edifice standing squarely in the middle of the French Quarter’s chaos and debauchery struck him, as always, as an ironic cosmic joke. The cathedral also reminded him of the day’s somber duties. The high church would host an important funeral that day.

No, Rock reminded himself, not one, two funerals. A pair of legends would be buried this day. Joseph “Fats” Cantano, Italian patriarch and reputed Mafia Don, would be borne through streets long controlled by the Cantano family.

After the service, the cortege would pass through three-hundred-year old French Quarter streets to the St. Louis Cemetery, built more than two hundred years before. Rites honoring the city’s first black mayor would follow within an hour of Cantano’s funeral. Unlike the private service preceding it, black leaders from around the nation and many from distant shores would attend the mayor’s funeral. Ten thousand local black citizens would jam narrow streets to pay their respects and watch a traditional New Orleans Jazz funeral parade through the Quarter and past the hotel on Loyola Avenue. Well, the mayor will have to get along without me today. The Cantano funeral was more than duty; it was personal.