‘Crybaby’ Velella Pulls a Soprano
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

So it turns out “crybaby” Guy Velella pulled a Tony Soprano to snag his Get Out of Jail Early card.
On HBO’s hit show “The Sopranos” last season, the fictional mob boss and his wife, Carmella, were slugging it out in an increasingly nasty, Mafia-style divorce.
Carmella started visiting the best divorce lawyers around. One by one, each told her he couldn’t represent her.
It turned out Tony had beaten her to the punch and “consulted” with every top lawyer, meaning the attorney had a conflict of interest. In legalese, what Tony did was to “conflict-out” all the best lawyers.
This, the city’s Department of Investigation concluded yesterday, is what Velella did in mid-September, while asking an obscure city commission to let him out of Rikers after serving only three months of a one-year term for conspiracy.
It also turns out the panel, the Local Conditional Release Commission, was inept – at best – violating no fewer than two procedural requirements to help Velella make his jailbreak.
The whole thing smells so bad that Manhattan District Attorney Robert Morgenthau is investigating and Velella could – and should – find himself back in Rikers.
Once one of the most powerful men in the state Senate, Velella entered Rikers on June 21 with two co-conspirators, Hector Del Toro and Manuel Gonzalez.
Soon after, he began whining and pulling strings to try to get the commission to let him out early. This is not an easy thing: Records show the commission got 6,832 applications for early release in fiscal year 2004 and approved only 29. In the first four months of this fiscal year, there were 1,099 applications and only five were granted, including those of Velella and his two cohorts.
Velella submitted his first application on July 21, complete with 57 letters of support from politicians, community leaders, and even Edward Cardinal Egan. All four commissioners turned it down, with Commissioner Jeanne Hammock calling Velella a “crybaby” who should serve his full term. Velella got the bad news on August 13.
DOI says the commission incorrectly told Velella he could re-apply in 30 days: commission rules say you can’t reapply for at least 60 days.
Velella, who obviously didn’t subscribe to the jailhouse credo of doing your time like a man, began calling the commission almost immediately, begging to be released.
DOI said the commission’s director, Eileen Sullivan, told investigators Velella sounded “highly distraught, often crying hard, and that he said that he missed his family and was very unhappy with prison.”
On September 14, 55 days after his first application was submitted and only 31 days after he was rejected, Velella tried again. This time, in addition to submitting a tearful letter, he played a trump card: On September 17 he hired Edward Hammock, a former state Parole Board chairman – and the husband of Commissioner Hammock – to represent him at a hearing set for a few days later.
Mr. Hammock has an interesting track record. He was ousted as state parole chief in 1984 after parole officials ignored some procedures and allowed an ex-con named George Agosto to remain on the streets. He soon killed a police officer and wounded two others.
Mr. Hammock went back into law practice and specialized in cases involving parole. In 1989, he was investigated on allegations he took he took money to obtain paroles – he was never charged – and in 1998 he was involved in getting parole for a politically connected armed robber.
Mrs. Hammock told DOI she didn’t know her husband’s firm had been hired until three or four days later, when they were on vacation in Virginia.
On September 22, two commissioners, Chairman Raul Russi and Commissioner Irene Prager, met and approved the application, although the rules say applications can be voted on only when three commissioners are present.
A day or two later, Commissioner Amy Ianora approved the application over the telephone – a violation – and Mrs. Hammock was put down as recusing herself.
Velella was released and all hell broke loose.
The commissioners quickly resigned and Mr. Russi quit yesterday as a member of the city Board of Correction, under pressure from Mayor Bloomberg. DOI made a series of recommendations, including a criminal probe, major policy changes, and better record-keeping.
The Hammocks weren’t talking, but none of this can be leaving Velella feeling too good.
“He certainly could be sent back to jail,” one investigator said. “The new commission can conclude that because the old commission did not follow procedure, he can be made to finish his sentence. … If I was Guy Velella, I would be a concerned.”