Under the Knife: A Beautiful Woman, a Phony Doctor, and a Shocking Homicide Read Online Free PDF

and her clothing always neat and well suited to each occasion.
    She took just as much care with her home. Carmel had a keen eye for design and never overlooked the slightest detail in pulling together a picture-perfect room. She painted woodwork, hung wallpaper and added coordinated accessories in a cycle of redecoration that never seemed to end. She added personal touches to the rooms of her children. Both had desks for doing homework. She put up a shelf for Dean’s collection of Hardy Boys books and hung another in Debra’s room for her ever-growing collection of athletic trophies.
    She kept the home full of candles, plants and tasteful knick-knacks all year round. When Christmas time came, she threw herself into the spirit with decorations and handmade ornaments. Long before it was the norm, she strung tiny white lights everywhere to make her house glow.
    Carmel was devoted to her children. Every one of their accomplishments made her beam with pride. A good report card from Dean, a trophy from Debra—they laid their offerings at her feet for the reward of her smile. If anyone hurt her children, that smile turned into a scowl, and her protective maternal instincts rose to the fore.
    She seemed to hold the whole world in her hands, butthere was one thing she could not shape into her pleasant ideal of a life well-lived—her husband.
    Sam’s narcissistic appetite for manipulation made Carmel’s control over anything seem precarious. He used his wife and children to stroke his ego and inflate his sense of self-importance. When they didn’t cater to his needs, there was hell to pay. Verbal and physical abuse were common. Carmel intervened, interrupting beatings, brushing away tears and holding the children tight till the pain faded away. But fortunately for the family, their interaction with Sam was minimal—he spent most of his time elsewhere.
    When he did come home, everyone waited timidly at the garage door to greet him. Like all kids raised in the sixties, Dean and Debra loved their TV shows. Their favorites were typical fare:
My Favorite Martian, Green Acres, Lost in Space
and
Gilligan’s Island
. But when it was time for Dad to come home, they’d better not be watching television. Their place was beside the garage door, waiting for the return of the family breadwinner. If they were not there to greet him, he was furious. Even when respectfully met at the door, Sam shut himself in the den away from his family after just a brief moment of interaction.
    Dean carried items to his Dad’s den for his mother on occasion. The biggest life lesson he remembered learning from his father was how to make a vodka martini. Dean followed his father’s instruction with care. He coated the ice cubes with vermouth, pouring the excess away, leaving only the ice cubes to flavor the vodka—in the Faiello household the martini was gently stirred, never shaken. Then, according to his father’s mood and the supplies on hand, he added a twist or an olive. After serving Sam, Dean left the room as soon as he could.
    Carmel did all she could to counteract the toxic atmosphere created by her hostile, demanding husband. Whenhe was gone, she created an environment of peace, an oasis of love. When he blew in like a hurricane, she did her best to keep her children out of his way.
    From 1966 through 1970, summers were a special escape for Dean and Debra. They spent the entire season at the home of their paternal grandfather, Carmine. He and his second wife, Emma, lived just a couple hundred feet from the beach in South Seaside Park. The unincorporated town was across from Toms River on the Barnegat Bay on an Ocean County barrier island in southern New Jersey.
    Carmine, an immigrant from Italy, owned the town’s water utility, South Seashore Water Company. Rumors circulated that he was connected to the Mob. Whether they were based on fact or ethnic stereotype, they persist even to today.
    Emma worked on the beach selling admission badges during