NYPD #35478 - Mehmet Yigit Korkmaz
NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT CLASSIFIED EVIDENCE
#35478
October 16 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
This is my first entry.
I was walking down 49th Street to pick up my antidepressant from the pharmacy. When I
went to pick up my prescription, the pharmacist told me it’s good to keep a diary to
express my emotions, so I feel less stressed and lonely.
Expressing emotions?
A strong man should never open his heart and show weaknesses. At least that's what my
dad used to say...
We’ll see how it goes.
October 17 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
Today started a little differently for me. I was having breakfast at Ken’s, as usual—not
that I like that place. In fact, I hate it. Those ugly chairs with cracked, pale leather,
standing on dirty, broken tiles... god, I hate that place. Eating there just reminds me how
miserable I am. It’s cheap—that’s the only reason I go. The toast tastes like dry hay, and
the coffee tastes like mud and smells like asphalt. Yeah, it’s cheap, all right.
Anyway, speaking of different, my food was even worse than usual. I asked Ken if Nancy
had done something different with it. He said ol’ Nance had a heart attack last night.
I don’t know how to feel about that. In a fucked up way, I feel happy for her. All she ever
did was work, trying to pay for her grandson’s debt to Fon Gambino. But since that stupid
kid ended up in jail—just like his mother—Nance was just drifting around like a galleon
in the Pacific. No destination. No purpose. I used to know her son from ‘Nam. Good kid,
Italian. So sad he ended up dying in some shitty booby trap. Poor Nancy.
I need to stop now. I really do feel bad for criticizing her while sitting in my shitty
apartment, staring at the dirty wall. Did that stain get bigger? Whatever.
Am I really any different from Nancy lately?
God bless her soul.
October 24 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
I had to go to Cosmo's warehouse today. He still owes me for hauling that package from
the Bronx all the way down to Atlantic City. I still don’t know what was inside. Drugs?
Guns? Maybe some stupid gadget to hustle the casinos? I feel like he hasn’t given up,
even after that Romanian casino owner broke both hands of one of his men after being
caught with a clicker gadget. Such a fucker. Whatever — his place is in Queens, and I
had to take line F.Same pathetic trip. I still hate that steamy, overwhelming, dirty subway
air- it’s really making me regret that second DUI while trying to get to Julia’s place. It
rained all day today. I honestly hope whoever is in charge of Queen’s landscaping drops
the jammy side of their PB&J on the floor and starves to death. I got mud all over my
favorite pants. Funny thing is, the stain looks exactly like the one on my living room wall
— like it’s following me. Whatever.
When I arrived at Cosmo's place, he told me he could only pay half the money now, or
I’d have to wait another month. He knows. He knows I have no choice. That bastard
knows I need to get medicine for my mom’s Alzheimer’s. I don’t have many options left.
She’s getting worse every single day. It feels like a cold dagger twisting deeper in my
chest every time she looks at me and doesn’t know who I am. My mom is my first love. I
really can't afford to lose her, especially now that Julia is gone. I feel cornered. Trapped.
Maybe it’s time to call Daniel, see if he’s got work. Heard he’s running something in
Brooklyn — a club? A bar? Doesn’t matter. I need the money. Even if it’s a whorehouse,
I’m going, and who knows, maybe I’ll bump into Julia... I shouldn't be calling her that for
dumping my sorry ass... Daniel was a solid guy back in high school, and I think of him as
a friend of mine.
November 3 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
I talked with Daniel a couple of days ago. He said he needs a bouncer who knows how
things work and knows all of the important "businessmen" (He meant fucking mafia)
after one of his guys didn't recognize someone important. I asked what happened to that
kid, and Daniel said, "he is no longer working with us". I know what he meant by
‘working’.. Poor kid is no longer with us.
He’s got a cane now. I asked if he was aging faster than all of us when I first saw him, but
it all makes sense now. It seems Daniel’s ability to walk properly is also no longer with
us, not since that incident.
He also gave me a 1911 pistol. It’s the same exact one I used to have in Vietnam. Shiny
silver barrel with a black grip. Good ole friend with bad ole memories... I need to clean
it- not that it’s dirty- but who knows who that gun was pointed at before...
November 17 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
I’m starting to get used to my job. Frankie helps me a lot- he’s Daniel’s right-hand man. I
know him from back in the day when we ran some gigs together to make money.
Trustworthy guy. I usually tell younger kids what to do and how to treat our precious
"customers" and other not-so-precious drunks. Simple job. If a name bigger than Daniel
starts a problem, conciliate. If not, resort to violence. Sometimes I join the rumble for fun
to swing some punches, not for the thrill of getting beaten; they’re usually done by the
time I get involved. I just feel mentally drained. My ma always used to say violence is
not the solution, but I feel like this is who I am now.
Whatever, the place looks good and pays well, to be honest. Decent level of quality
people.
Quality. What is quality?
What makes you a worthy man to go into that place and spend money?
It’s all about power in these dirty streets nowadays...
No matter how good you look.
No matter how honest you are.
No matter how many brothers you lost in a war.
No matter how good a lover you are.
power
power
IT IS ALL ABOUT power- power to me, is too far...
November 24, 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
All is well. At least I'm finally appreciating a routine. I don't know. It makes me wonder-
if I’m going to be spending the rest of my life beating the drunk until 6 am in the fucking
morning. No family? No family. Considering I was trying to cross a jungle swamp on the
other side of the world two years ago. I should be grateful.
I saw that bastard "ugly charlie" the other day. I know he knows a couple of guys from
the government and does business with them both legally and illegally. Powerful guy,
huh? Power. That word bothers me lately.
He walked in with five beautiful angels. Heavenly.
He looks like a rat.
He eats like a pig.
He drinks like a dog.
That blonde prostitute on 32nd told me he fucks like a bunny, too, but it doesn't matter.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters because he has power like a lion. It’s sad. Sad how
much less of a man you are without power. How much more lonely. How much more
unappreciated.
The society is BROKEN!
I feel like I’m losing my ties to God now. What’s my purpose?
DO NOT FORGET TO GET A THANKSGIVING PRESENT FOR MA.
November 29 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
My mom really liked the flowers I got for her.
I saw Julia today. She didn't see me. I was at least a hundred feet away, but at that
moment, after not seeing her for this long, it just felt like she was right in front of me.
My god, she is stunning, just like I first met her back in '63. She will always be beautiful
to me. It feels like time does not affect her. Her blonde hair was around her shoulders, a
little messy but perfectly harmonious as always. I miss her eyes. I don't know why she
had sunglasses on a cloudy November day.
She was getting groceries from that place next to Sal's deli. I watched her for a while. She
got tomatoes and eggplant. Assuming she will cook that delicious Eggplant Parmigiana
of hers. It was much more than she could eat.
I wonder if she’s seeing anyone.
I miss Julia a lot. There is something I still love about her. I’m not sure if it’s her that I
love or the good, peaceful times she brings me back to every time I see her.
At the end of the day, I am in love.
Limerence.
December 9 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
I met with a girl last night at work. She was gorgeous, definitely prettier than Julia. Her
name is Olivia. She seemed so interested in what it’s like to work in nightlife and what
my experiences were back in Nam.
I truly feel blessed to be finally heard.
I am a little hesitant to trust her since she is someone I met at a club, but she said she was
just there to pick up her brother, whom we just beat up five minutes ago with Frankie.
She is odd.
Just like me.
That's what I like about her.
I’m looking forward to getting to know her more, if she allows me. It’s been too long
since I felt something.
December 23 1974
______________________________________________________________________________
Yesterday, I took my mom out for dinner at Belligimo. She needs to be out of that
retirement house once in a while.
It was weird. Not that it was bad, but just weird. We were together for five hours. For the
first couple of hours, she kept thinking I was Dad. Telling me how much younger I look. I
never felt that sincere, warm love from her before, and it wasn't even for me, her own
son, who has been taking care of her for the last god-knows-how-many years. My god,
she was such a good listener. I wish that experience had never happened because it is
extremely bothersome to me right now. I felt that all-too-familiar lump in my throat and
rushed to the bathroom
Are those emotions I am reflecting? Maybe Olivia is really good for me after all.
After I got back from the bathroom, she was doing well with remembering me, but kept
asking about why I didn't bring Julia. It’s ironic she doesn’t forget the things she is
supposed to forget nor remember the things she is supposed to remember... I don’t blame
her after Julia had been around for a long time when she was healthy. Who am I to judge?
I still can't forget her, but all is well. I still talk with Olivia. We had coffee together a
couple of days ago when I bumped into her in the Bronx while buying wallpaper for my
place. I really need to cover that stain up back at mine. Especially now that I have a
woman in my life.
We plan on going out after Christmas. I’m really excited.
January 24 1975
______________________________________________________________________________
I didn't feel like writing for the last couple of weeks.
I got fired.
February 5 1975
______________________________________________________________________________
I got fired because Olivia never showed up to dinner. She was always good at timing and
never late to places. I started to worry and went back to her place just to make sure she
was okay. She seemed fine. When I asked her what was wrong, she said everything was
okay, but she didn't want to see me anymore. I was being pushy, and she finally told me
what was going through her mind.
She said she asked about me to Frankie, and according to Olivia, Frankie told her I’m
basically a psychopath—some crazy Nam veteran living with my mom, no friends,
nobody. Just a pathetic loser, a broke weirdo with no power and nothing going for me.
HOW DOES A LONELY PERSON MEET PEOPLE IF PEOPLE KEEP DROPPING
THEIR ASSES FOR BEING LONELY?
I went to the Bronx to talk to Frankie to see if what he supposedly said about me was
actually true. He denied all of it, said he doesn’t even know her—he’s only seen her twice
at work when she was there for me, and that’s it. He also told me to go back to Queens
and shut her lying bitch ass up.
Now the problem is....
How does Frankie know where she lives?
Now my boy Frankie has a broken nose, along with two fractured ribs. Daniel said it was
me who started all that and kicked my ass out. I don't know how to feel; it all looked so
good for a couple of days, my life.
I trusted Daniel and Frankie as my friends... I trusted Olivia as my partner...
I don’t know what to do or who to trust anymore. I feel lost. No one has ever been
trustworthy in my life before.
NEVER. NEVER. NEVER.
Except Julia...
I’m a stupid fool for thinking Olivia could ever be a replacement.
No one ever will be.
February 25 1975
______________________________________________________________________________
I don’t feel anything anymore. I remember the first time I started taking antidepressants,
my doctor said they basically suppress feelings (I guess so you don't feel anything at all),
so I stopped taking them a couple of weeks ago.
Just to feel something.
I don’t really do anything. I spend most of my time sitting at Sal’s. Maybe I’ll see Julia
again one day.
March 8 1975
______________________________________________________________________________
I finally started to see a pattern: she does her grocery shopping every Saturday around 2
pm. I saw her once with a guy. Biker looking. Jacked. I’m not even going to consider him
as a match for her. He doesn't seem like a guy who can give her what she deserves. No
one does.
Guess what’s next Saturday? Her birthday!
This is a sign for me to turn things around. I’ll be there next Saturday with some flowers
and those little chocolate fudges she likes.
THIS CAN'T BE A COINCIDENCE. NEXT SATURDAY IS HER BIRTHDAY. IT
WILL WORK. SHE WILL UNDERSTAND. SHE ALWAYS DID.
Sal said the war is about to be over now. We lost.
All those lives wasted over what? All those people I knew.
I have more important things to worry about now.
March 15 1975
______________________________________________________________________________
I tried to talk to her—or what’s left of the person I used to know.
She looked like she’d been through hell. Bruises across her face.
Her beautiful face.
My Julia.
I can’t stop thinking about how pathetic I feel, getting left behind for someone who could
hurt her like that. There has to be some other explanation. Julia is smart—she would
never choose to be in a situation like this on purpose.
She needs help. Someone needs to notice.
Her face was so pale. She looked like she wasn’t even fully here, like living had become
something she was just going through the motions of. She told me I needed to let things
go, but I know her. She was scared. She didn’t mean it. That must be why she never
reached out all that time after I got back from the war. Yes... that has to be it.
“Stop harassing me.”?
No. She was afraid. That’s all.
What an animal to send my Julia to the grocery store on her birthday. She is so precious.
I keep wondering how long this has been happening.
THE SUNGLASSES.
April 1975
______________________________________________________________________________
This has to stop.
I will save her.
She needs my help, my Julia.
THIS IS MY PURPOSE.
good god
I have to be around her neighborhood to make sure she is safe.
I love you Mom.
May 21 1975
______________________________________________________________________________
I will save her.
CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION - NYPD
Department: NYPD – Detective Bureau
Report Type: Homicide Investigation
Case No.: 1975-HM-2291
Date of Report: 05/21/1975
Reporting Detective: Det. L. Navarro, Shield #4172
Partner Detective: Det. S. O’Donnell, Shield #3904
Precinct: 112th Precinct
Victim Information
Name: Benjamin Greenwood
Sex: Male
Age: 36
Pronounced Dead: 05/21/1975 at 23:14 hours
Pronounced By: FDNY EMS Unit 83D, Paramedic K. Santos
Cause of death (preliminary): Single gunshot wound to the upper torso.
Incident Information
Date/Time: 05/21/1975 — Approx. 22:58 hours
Location: Private residence at 47-92 Hawthorne Avenue, Queens, NY 11377
Officers responded to a 911 call reporting a break-in and shots fired. Upon
arrival, officers located the victim, later identified as Benjamin Greenwood, lying
inside the hallway near the front entrance. A handgun consistent with a
1911-style firearm was found on the floor adjacent to the victim.
Witness Julia Decaprini stated she was present inside the residence with her
boyfriend, Anthony Carver, at the time of the incident. According to her
statement, the victim forced entry through the front door while armed. Decaprini
reported that she took cover while Carver confronted the intruder. Carver
allegedly discharged his .45 caliber handgun one time, striking the victim in the
upper torso. The victim collapsed and dropped his weapon immediately after
being shot.
FDNY EMS pronounced the victim deceased at the scene.
Evidence
Item #1: 1911-style handgun recovered next to victim #12522
Item #2: Spent .45 caliber casing recovered near living room threshold #12563
Item #3: .45 caliber handgun owned by witness (safely secured by officers)
Item #4: Photographs and measurements taken by CSI
Item #5: A diary found with the victim #35478
Scene Description
The front door showed damage consistent with forced entry. The victim was
found on his back approximately 3 feet inside the residence. No additional signs
of struggle observed. Residence secured and processed by the Crime Scene
Unit.
Witness / Shooter Information
Witness / Involved Party #1
Name: Anthony Carver
Statement:
Witness stated he fired one round from his legally owned .45 caliber handgun
after the victim forcibly entered the residence while armed. Witness further stated
he did not know the victim and had never seen him before the incident.
Witness / Involved Party #2
Name: Julia Decaprini
Statement:
Witness stated she had no idea what was happening when the individual forced
entry into the residence while armed.
She also clearly stated she doesn’t know the victim.
Case Status
Active – Under investigation by the NYPD Detective Bureau.
Reporting Detective Signature
Det. L. Navarro #4172
NYPD – Detective Bureau Signature on file.