Long ago and far away – late 1970s, Trenton, N.J. – a chief assignment judge named George Schoch was presiding over a case involving mobster Joseph “Joe Bayonne” Zicarelli.

Once a fearsome, husky gangster, Zicarelli was then in his 70s, frail, with failing kidneys in need of dialysis. He had been in jail for about 10 years on contempt charges for refusing to testify before the State Commission of Investigation.

Joe Bayonne’s lawyers had tried several times over the years to get him out, but Schoch, a no-nonsense judge, always refused.

Finally, this day came and the judge took a glance at Zicarelli, a look at the medical reports from Zicarelli’s physician and state doctors, took off his glasses, and ordered Zicarelli freed, declaring: “Gentlemen, enough is enough.”

Someone in the U.S. attorney’s office or the FBI needs to say “enough is enough” when it comes to prosecuting the Gottis.

Burning over earlier, failed attempts to put “Teflon Don” John Gotti behind bars, the government finally succeeding in nailing him to the wall in 1991. He was sentenced to life without parole and died of cancer in prison in June 2002.

His son, Junior, is finishing up one sentence and awaiting trial on charges that include ordering the shooting of radio talk-show host Curtis Sliwa.

Brother Gene, 58, is serving a sentence for drug trafficking that will keep him behind bars until at least 2019. Brother Richard and his son, also named Richard, are completing federal sentences, and even a former son-in-law, Carmine Agnello is in the joint.

That brings us to brother Peter, the 65-year-old sanitation man turned mob boss who is on trial in federal court in Manhattan on conspiracy and racketeering charges.

He’s had a bad year. He’s doing 9 1/2 years on other charges (which means he’d be 74 before he could get out even if he beats the current charges), his wife just divorced him, and his girlfriend killed herself.

Peter is on trial on charges of ordering a hit – never carried out – on mob turncoat and former Gotti underboss Salvatore “Sammy Bull” Gravano. Authorities say he sent a hit team, including co-defendant Thomas “Huck” Carbonaro, to Arizona to whack Gravano, who had resettled there as part of the federal witness protection program.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on your point of view – Gravano, who did a mere five years for 19 murders as part of his witness deal, was arrested on drug trafficking charges before the hit men could do the job.

The feds have a slew of B-list Gravano types ready to testify – for reduced sentences, of course – that Peter and his cronies, dead and alive, were involved in two decades’ worth of murders, mayhem, and other mob business.

At first, in the late 1980s, there was a mystique about John Gotti, after he took over the Gambino crime family by murdering the boss, Paul Castellano.

He was the “Dapper Don”: wearing custom-made suits, colorful ties, and matching pocket squares. He was the “Teflon Don,” beating a rapid succession of state and federal cases.

He was the modern-day Al Capone, a swaggering street hoodlum who rose to the top, loved every minute of it, and was often glad to stop for a photo-op or give reporters a short but quotable quote.

He spawned a library shelf full of books, including two excellent ones by The New York Sun’s Gang Land columnist, Jerry Capeci, and his writing partner, Gene Mustain, and a few not-very-good movies.

After the deposed don was locked away in a super-max prison in Marion, Ill., it started getting boring. John Gotti was truly the last of a breed. Son Junior and brother Pete were not in his league, not even close.

That didn’t stop the feds from piling on – an unnecessary roughness penalty in any league. They leaked embarrassing stories about his life in prison – that he was bloodied in a jailhouse fight and would rant at some of his visitors – and refused for a long time to move him to a prison hospital, even when it was obvious his cancer was worsening badly.

They’ve arrested virtually every male in the family over age 25 and, at the cost of untold millions of taxpayer dollars, have tacked on enough charges to some of them to virtually ensure they die in jail.

The convicted Gottis are certainly criminals and they’ve pretty much reaped what they’ve sown, but if you listen closely, somewhere the ghost of Judge George Schoch is saying, “Gentlemen, enough is enough.”