Mafia in our midst: A mob soldier turned Phoenix businessman

Frank Gioia Jr. no longer exists. Anyone meeting him today never would know he once was a soldier in the New York Mafia.

Federal authorities erased Gioia’s criminal history in exchange for his cooperation and testimony against more than 70 mobsters. He walked out of prison in 1999 with a new identity and into a new life as an Arizona businessman.

That identity, from the Federal Witness Protection Program, helped him morph from a mobster into a real-estate developer and restaurateur, an Arizona Republic investigation shows. He became the head of a chain of restaurants called Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and Grill.

His success was short-lived, overshadowed by allegations of fraud and massive losses for his business associates. 

Documents and interviews show Gioia used his government-provided identity to create havoc. He or his companies negotiated deals to build Toby Keith restaurants with mall owners and developers throughout the United States, then took tens of millions of dollars meant to pay for construction and walked away.

Gioia’s business associates know him as Frank Capri. No background checks, no amount of vetting, no financial examination and no legal review would have revealed Capri’s record as a confessed murderer, drug dealer, gun runner, arsonist, extortionist, loan shark and leg breaker.

That’s because the Witness Protection Program isn’t set up to protect the public.

Few controls are in place to ensure criminals who enter the program don’t commit new crimes or create problems for those they encounter in their new lives. There are even fewer controls to prevent them from leaving the program or track them if they do.

As the name implies, the program’s primary goal is protecting witnesses.

Gioia is one of a handful of celebrated mob turncoats who helped break the back of the Mafia in New York City in the 1990s and 2000s, according to those who study the crime syndicate.

Gioia’s cooperation with law enforcement led to the conviction of mobsters, from underlings to bosses. He also helped authorities close several unsolved murders, the 20-year-old shooting of a New York City police officer among them. 

His information gave federal prosecutors, including former FBI Director James Comey, the ammunition they needed to make cases — and careers.

In exchange, authorities gave Gioia a new name, Social Security number and enough backstory for him to hide in plain sight as lawsuits and fraud allegations stacked up against him.

At least 48 lawsuits have been filed in 31 cities, according to Arizona Republic research. Judges have ordered Capri or his companies to pay plaintiffs $65 million in cases tied to their Toby Keith restaurants, according to the latest material obtained from court documents and media accounts. 

MAFIA IN OUR MIDST: 
PART 1 - A mob soldier turned Phoenix businessman 
PART 2 - Inside the life of a 'made man'
PART 3 - Who protects the public from protected witnesses?

Developers claimed Capri deliberately orchestrated the failure of his restaurants as part of a scheme to pocket development money.

His company, Boomtown Entertainment LLC, closed 19 of its 20 restaurants, sometimes months after opening. It also announced plans to build 20 restaurants that never opened.

Capri is accused in litigation of stealing money meant for tenant improvements, stiffing landlords on rental contracts and pocketing money meant to pay contractors and laborers who worked on his projects.

Capri’s company built four Toby Keith restaurants in Arizona, including one in CityNorth in northeast Phoenix that stayed open only five months.

Toby Keith had no ownership interest in the restaurants; the country singer only collected money on naming rights.

One of Capri’s early business associates said he had warned City North representatives at the time about Capri’s business practices. But he said officials maintained they had done their due diligence before contracts were signed.

Capri’s criminal background was spotless — because the federal government had manufactured it for him.

The Republic pieced together Capri’s identity through court records, business documents, background searches and interviews with past and current associates. Mafia lawyers, former prosecutors, organized-crime researchers and private investigators spoke about Gioia’s transformation from drug dealer and murderer to government witness and businessman.

‘That’s him, all right’

Testimony in criminal cases and arrest records track Gioia’s upbringing as the son of a gangster in New York’s Little Italy, his induction into the Mafia, his incarceration and his decision to flip to keep his father from being killed.

Capri declined interview requests and did not respond to a detailed list of questions sent to him through his girlfriend and his attorney about his personal history, the Mafia and his businesses. 

"He doesn't have any reply," Capri's girlfriend, Tawny Costa, said after attempts to reach him by phone and email.

But this isn’t the first time he’s had to deal with questions about his identity.

A 2007 report prepared by private investigators in a Maricopa County child-custody case documented Gioia’s entry into the Federal Witness Protection Program along with his father, mother, sister and brother-in-law.

Five years after the custody case was settled, Capri asked a family court judge to seal the records and keep the testimony from public view.

In a motion, Capri denied involvement in the Witness Protection Program. His lawyer contended that even if Capri had been given a new identity as part of the program, he would have had to lie about it.

“Assuming … the allegations are true, which (Capri) staunchly denies, the disclosure would have the effect of removing the protection afforded by the Federal Witness Protection Program,” his lawyer wrote in the motion.

At least three people who dealt with Gioia in New York, including two lawyers who cross-examined him in criminal cases, positively identified Gioia from pictures of Frank Capri.

“That’s Gioia,” New York attorney Anthony Lombardino said. “That’s him, all right. That is him. That is him.”

Lombardino, who spent two days grilling Gioia on the stand in a 2004 federal racketeering and murder trial, said Gioia was as bad, if not worse, than people he helped put away.

“The government turned Gioia loose on society,” Lombardino said.

The FBI and the U.S. Department of Justice declined to respond to a detailed list of questions about the Gioia case. But officials with both agencies denied turning a blind eye to potential criminal conduct.

"The Department of Justice remains committed to holding accountable those who conduct criminal activity and threaten the rule of law," Nora Scheland of the FBI National Press Office said in a statement.

Scheland said the FBI and the DOJ could neither confirm nor deny the existence of any ongoing investigations.

Officials with the U.S. Marshals Service, which oversees and manages the Witness Protection Program, said they could not discuss Gioia, his identity and whether he is or was enrolled in the Witness Protection Program.

“We do not divulge any information about any individual,” Arizona U.S. Marshal David Gonzales said.

“I cannot confirm nor deny the identity of anyone.”

New millennium, new identity

Frank Capri appeared in Phoenix with the new millennium. By 2003, he had established himself as a real-estate developer and soon was brokering deals for some of the Valley’s priciest homes.

His ride on the real-estate bubble would carry him into new ventures. His business associates said he came up with a strategy for squeezing money out of projects — without finishing them.

A onetime friend and business associate said Capri discovered developers were so desperate to build out malls they were willing to pay millions based on a concept and a promise: long-term rental agreements in exchange for up-front cash.

“He knew he could sign his name and get free money,” said Simon Kreisberger, the owner of the Play Factory in Phoenix.  In 2006, Kreisberger wanted to franchise his indoor playground business, and Capri was interested. 

“I was thinking biz, biz, biz," Kreisberger said, adding that Capri appeared to be focused on "how much he can put in his pocket.” 

When he spoke with The Republic, Kreisberger knew nothing about Capri’s real identity or about his background.

Kreisberger said he remembered when Capri signed the agreement for his first Toby Keith restaurant in Mesa’s Riverview development. He said Capri talked about taking his plan nationwide. Kreisberger said Capri didn't seem concerned if the restaurants failed, or even if they got built.

Capri talked instead about the number of deals he could sign and how much money he could make before developers got wise and his credit ran out.

Kreisberger said he was alarmed and took his concerns to a lawyer.

“It got to where I felt like I was talking to a mobster,” he said. “We were afraid he was Mafia.”

Son of a son of a mobster

Gioia is a prominent mob figure, known as much for his audacity as his testimony.

Gioia not only survived turning evidence against dozens of mob figures. By his own admission, he remained in the Witness Protection Program after he lied to authorities and withheld information for years about murders and other crimes.

Gioia’s notoriety didn’t come from being a high-ranking member of the criminal underworld or a particularly important member of the machine. According to his court testimony, he was a soldier, and, in mob parlance, an “earner.”

He grew up the son and grandson of mobsters. His father was a “made man,” a fully initiated member of the Mafia. His grandfather ran a bookmaking operation in Little Italy. When Gioia was 8 years old, one of his uncles was shot 11 times and tossed into the trunk of a car.

READ MORE:
Frank Gioia Jr.'s Mafia associates and their crimes, fates
The Five Families of New York: How the Mafia divides the city
Frank Gioia Jr.: Years of crime, a newidentity and allegations of fraud
What exactly happened at Toby Keith’s?

Gioia had access to the family’s secrets from an early age, and he paid attention. So, when he decided to flip, he was able to give federal authorities a history of Mafia violence, crime and corruption.

Gioia’s statements connected murders to killers, put names to unsolved cases and eviscerated the Mafia’s organizational structure.

He is credited with being a key informer and witness against the Lucchese and Gambino crime families, two of New York’s Five Families. Among those was John A. Gotti, former acting boss of the Gambino crime family and the son of legendary “Teflon Don” John Gotti.

The Lucchese family operated primarily in the New York boroughs of Brooklyn, the Bronx and Manhattan and in New Jersey.

Gioia became a “made man” in 1991 at age 24. By his own account, he plotted murders. He was a loan shark and shakedown artist. He ran drugs and guns. He committed assaults.

In 1992, Gioia said he helped kill a Gambino associate who “disrespectfully” propositioned the girlfriend of a ranking Lucchese boss at a nightclub.

Gioia was running a heroin pipeline from Boston to Manhattan when he was arrested in 1993 on federal drug charges. He was facing 30 years to life in prison when he got word the mob was plotting to kill his father. He reached out to the FBI, told agents he was willing to talk and signed a deal to cooperate with the government.

“I thought, I figured I had two choices,” Gioia testified in 2004. “I either sit there, everybody else is flipping, they go in, they find out things I did, didn’t do, I get indicted, I end up doing life, my family gets abused in the street. Or cooperate with the government, put them all in the program, get them away from these people.”

Flipping requires a tell-all, called a proffer. Cooperating witnesses are required to confess every crime in which they have been involved. Federal agents memorialize the admissions in Form 302s. They meet as many times as it takes to get it all on the record, and it doesn’t end there. Anytime law-enforcement officials have questions, they can go back.

Gioia testified agents came back to him dozens of times. But he didn’t give up everything, a violation of his agreement that could have gotten him kicked out of the protection program and sent back to prison. Gioia said in court he held back information to protect his child.

In 1993, Gioia had a son with his fiancee, Kim Smith, whose brother was an associate of another crime family. Gioia said the Smiths threatened to make sure he never would see his son again if he testified about their activities.

He kept quiet for two years. Then, Gioia testified, he learned that Kim Smith took money from the mob to secretly record their prison conversations.

According to court records, Gioia then came clean. He gave the feds information about murders and other crimes he hadn’t talked about in the past. Gioia said Smith’s uncle, Anthony Francesehi, was involved in the slaying of the New York police officer during a botched robbery outside a Brooklyn disco. He gave up Smith’s brother, Frank, in the 1987 murders of two mob associates.

And Gioia kept talking.    

Lawyers, journalist identify mob turncoat

Gioia’s information sent mobsters to prison for decades and, in some cases, for life.

New York defense lawyer Lombardino said Gioia broke all the rules and the government rewarded him for it. 

Lombardino’s client, former Lucchese acting boss and consigliere Louis “Louie Bagels” Daidone, is serving a life sentence for racketeering and conspiracy to commit two murders.

In 2004, Gioia testified that Daidone helped set up and kill a Lucchese soldier suspected of cooperating with authorities. According to court records, Daidone lured Bruno Facciolo to a Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, garage under the pretense of a meeting.

Gioia told the court that when Facciolo got suspicious and bolted, Daidone tackled him and dragged Facciolo back inside, where he was stabbed and shot. According to court records, Facciolo’s body was found in the trunk of a car with a dead canary stuffed in his mouth.

Daidone also ordered the slaying of another Lucchese soldier suspected of being an informant.

Former FBI Director Comey, who at the time was U.S. attorney for New York’s southern district, appeared in federal court during Gioia’s testimony. 

Lombardino said Gioia’s testimony was tainted by his failure to tell the truth about his own criminal conduct. In court, Lombardino painted Gioia as untrustworthy, pointing out that Gioia’s cooperation helped him to avoid life in prison and got him released after only six years.

“You’re right,” Gioia said in court. “But I didn’t create the system.”

New York defense attorney Ephraim Savitt positively identified Gioia from pictures of Capri, saying emphatically: “That’s the culprit!”

Savitt, a former federal prosecutor and adjunct law professor at Fordham Law School, said he cross-examined Gioia, who testified as a government witness in an attempted-murder trial. Savitt said Gioia’s demeanor on the stand was smart, arrogant and self-serving.

Savitt represented Lucchese soldier Michael “Baldy” Spinelli, who was convicted in 1998 of shooting the sister of a former Lucchese captain to prevent her brother from testifying against the family.

Despite being shot twice, the sister survived.

Gioia testified that Spinelli told him details about the attempted murder when they were in prison together in 1994.

Two years after Spinelli’s conviction, Savitt said he learned Gioia had failed to disclose several crimes involving the Smith family to federal prosecutors.

Savitt appealed for a retrial, arguing that Gioia had violated his agreement with prosecutors. He said Gioia’s failure to disclose crimes amounted to a violation of his cooperation agreement. A judge denied the motion.

Savitt said he doesn’t condone what his client did, but Gioia’s testimony never should have been allowed to stand.

“There’s no black and white here,” he said. “Just too many shades of gray.”

Jerry Capeci, a newspaper columnist and author who chronicles organized crime on his Gangland News website, is one of the nation’s foremost Mafia experts.

Capeci described Gioia in a 1998 New York Daily News story as “a behind-the-scenes star mob informer.” Capeci said federal prosecutors praised Gioia as having a better conviction rate than former Gotti underboss Salvatore “Sammy Bull” Gravano.

Gravano, whose testimony helped put away 39 mobsters, was enrolled in the Witness Protection Program and also relocated to Phoenix.

In the 1990s, he was arrested for running an Ecstasy drug ring and in 2002 was sent to prison on federal and state drug charges. Gravano was released Sept. 18.

From 1998 to 2003, Capeci wrote dozens of articles about Gioia. He kept a running list of the mobsters he helped to convict.

Capeci, who wrote that Gioia was “a baby-faced 250-pounder” in news articles, also identified him from pictures of Frank Capri, adding that he actually only saw Gioia in person in one court case.

“That looks like him,” Capeci said in a recent interview. “It sure looks like him.”

Investigative report reveals Mafia past

It is unclear whether Capri is under the protection of the Witness Protection Program today.

The Witness Security Program, or WITSEC, as the Federal Witness Protection Program is also known, has stringent rules governing activities, contacts and travel that some government witnesses decide they cannot follow and voluntarily withdraw. Others are expelled from the program for violations.

Even if Capri were expelled from the program or left on his own, no one from the government would be allowed to confirm his new identity.

Background searches show Capri’s Social Security number was issued in South Dakota between 1998 and 2001, when he was 31 to 34 years old.

Records indicate he spent time in Tulsa, Oklahoma, before moving to Arizona, but the government could have manufactured that history as part of Gioia’s new background.

Court and other records suggest he was still enrolled in the program and under the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service in 2007.

In 2007, Arizona private investigators Rich Robertson and Gary Phelps were hired to investigate Capri as part of a dispute with his girlfriend over the custody of their two children, both born in Arizona.

“We have confirmed that Frank Capri is a federally protected witness whose real identity is Frank Gioia, a third-generation member of the Lucchese crime family,” Robertson and Phelps wrote in an Oct. 23, 2007, report obtained by The Republic.

The report also identified members of Capri’s family who were enrolled in the Witness Protection Program. 

Robertson and Phelps wrote they had spoken to Arizona U.S. Marshal Gonzales and Witness Protection Program Supervisor Rich Kay.

“They, of course, would not confirm or deny our conclusions, but said they have grave concerns if this becomes part of a court record,” Robertson and Phelps wrote in the report. “They ask if the proceedings could be done under seal and offered to speak directly to the judge if needed.”

The report includes a lengthy description of the Witness Protection Program and the U.S. Marshals Service’s role in overseeing it.

Court records and media accounts show this wasn’t Gioia’s first child-custody dispute since entering WITSEC. 

Robertson and Phelps noted in their report that after testifying against the Smith family in 1997, he fought his ex-fiancee for visitation rights to their son.

“As a result of outing the Smith family, they threatened to never let him see his son again,” Robertson and Phelps wrote. “Gioia wanted so much to have a relationship with his son he went to family court and persuaded a judge to allow visitation even though he was in the Witness Protection Program.”

Robertson, owner of R3 Investigations in Mesa, confirmed the authenticity of the report in a recent interview.

“I wound up testifying about our findings in a sealed court hearing,” he said of the report.

Because portions of the case are under seal, The Republic was unable to confirm whether the report is in the custody case file.

Robertson said U.S. Marshals Service officials in 2007 “didn’t deny” Capri’s involvement in the Witness Protection Program. But he said they “suggested to me that they would deal with it,” referring to the custody case.

Gonzales said he “had no recollection” of the report or of being interviewed by Robertson and Phelps. He said he did not recall being subpoenaed.

The Republic is not naming Capri’s ex-girlfriend to help safeguard the identity of their children. 

In 2007, the ex-girlfriend accused Capri of lying to the court about his income. Capri first told the court he made $5,000 a month. He later tried to settle the case claiming he made $20,000 a month.

Capri’s ex-girlfriend challenged his claims with a 2005 tax return that reported his income at about $900,000 a year. She also estimated his real-estate assets at more than $15 million.

She asked the court to require full disclosure and a formal review of Capri's finances.

“(Capri) is now coming up with a variety of excuses not to produce these documents,” she said in court documents. “If Mr. Capri would just be honest with the court and the respondent, this in-depth analysis would not be necessary.” 

Court motion exposes Capri

Capri went back to Maricopa County Family Court in 2012. Once more, the subject of his past was raised. Court documents show Capri was the one who raised it.

Capri’s attorney filed an emergency motion with the Family Court judge accusing his former girlfriend of “recklessly alleging that (Capri) is an organized crime figure or former organized crime figure whose true identity has been masked by his participation in the Federal Witness Protection Program.”

Scottsdale attorney Victor Garnice asked for a restraining order to prevent Capri’s ex-girlfriend from speaking or writing about Capri’s past.

“She has repeatedly threatened to make this false allegation to third parties, including (Capri’s) business partners, clients and others in the event (Capri) had the temerity to challenge her inappropriate parenting,” Garnice wrote.

Capri’s attorney implored the judge to seal the case and close the proceedings to the public. He confirmed that federal law-enforcement officers had testified in 2007 about the importance of keeping the program secret.

“Witnesses were produced, including an Assistant United States Attorney General and a U.S. Marshal, who testified without uncertainty that the Federal Witness Protection Program and the public interest were grossly prejudiced and violated by discussion of the topic,” Garnice wrote. “They made plain that persons in the program are prohibited from discussing same and are duty bound to deny the assertion.”

That’s when Garnice said if Capri was in the program he would be forced to deny it.

“Even if the specious and pernicious allegations concerning (Capri) were true, (Capri) would be required to make denials identical those he would be required to make if the allegations were untrue,” Garnice wrote.

The judge called the emergency motion inappropriate. He denied the request to close the court proceedings and seal the files. He also denied the restraining order, calling it a prior restraint on the First Amendment.

While he was trying to shield his identity in court, Capri was expanding his business empire.

By 2012, it appeared as if his Toby Keith restaurant chain was thriving, with eight already open and many more on the way.

At least that’s how it looked.

Laying out the development 'scheme'

Capri’s pitch to developers was brilliantly simple. Capri laid it out so quickly and smoothly in 2007 that Kreisberger said he didn’t immediately recognize it for what he now believes it to be: a scheme.

They were preparing to sign a development deal for an indoor playground at the Mesa Riverview mall. The developer was willing to pay up front for tenant improvements in exchange for a long-term lease. Capri wanted to know how much money they needed. Kreisberger estimated it would cost $40 per square foot.

According to Kreisberger, Capri smiled, leaned back and said, “Then we ask for $70.”

Kreisberger said he was not involved in negotiations. He admits to being naive. He said at the time he thought Capri was worried about overruns and build-out costs and assumed the money would go back into the business. He said he figured out way too late that’s not what happened.

Court and business records and emails show Kreisberger met Capri in late 2006, about a year after Kreisberger opened his first Play Factory at Happy Valley Road and Interstate 17 near Anthem.

Business was good and Kreisberger was looking to franchise his concept. He had posted a sign near the register encouraging offers. Capri, who frequently brought his children to the store, struck up a conversation.

Capri said the right things, talking up margins, operating expenses, the potential for expansion. They met several more times, and in December Capri was ready to sign.

Kreisberger described Capri as professional, a smooth talker who could sense a deal. He said Capri liked to flash cash rolls and live large, always going on about his latest luxury purchase.

He didn’t talk about his past. Kreisberger said Capri was guarded about where he’d been and what he’d done. Capri told him he had grown up in Brooklyn and lived in Long Island before moving to Phoenix and getting into the real-estate-flipping game.

There were red flags, Kreisberger said. Capri touted his real-estate acumen and looked financially great on paper. But an accountant reviewing Capri’s finances warned that the entrepreneur was leveraged to the hilt with almost no liquid assets.

Kreisberger was so excited about the partnership, he said he was willing to overlook his accountant’s objections. Capri had great ideas and the two had become fast friends. Capri had not paid any franchise fees, and Kreisberger said he, not Capri, had bankrolled the launch, paying for designs, architects and lawyers. Riverview was supposed to become Play Factory’s flagship.

Days before they were set to open in 2007, Kreisberger said Capri called him to brag he had just signed a deal to build a Toby Keith restaurant next to the Play Factory at Mesa Riverview.

“He said, ‘The landlord just put $250,000 right in my pocket. The landlord wants to write me checks,’ ” Kreisberger said. “It was a scheme, and that’s what he told me. Flat out.”

Associate: 'The light bulb came on'

The next day, Kreisberger said he was invited to Capri’s Scottsdale Waterfront residence. Capri wanted to show off his new top-of-the-line BMW.

Kreisberger said Capri took him upstairs to talk possibilities, about how they could score more cash by signing leases in exchange for up-front tenant-improvement fees. He said they could line up deals to build Play Factories and Toby Keith restaurants at other malls across the country.

“He just started admitting it to me,” Kreisberger said. “He did not care if he was signing a 10-year lease, as long as he could get money and keep it going.”

Kreisberger said at that moment “the light bulb came on” and he realized Capri was using him the same way he was using other developers. But there was little he could do but try to get out, abandon the franchise agreement and sever ties with Capri.

By the time Play Factory opened its Mesa location, Capri had signed a lease to build a second indoor playground at the Fulton Ranch Towne Center in Chandler. Only he had done this one without Kreisberger, creating a new company doing business as “Jump and Shout.”

Kreisberger said Capri took “my concept, my design and even my (franchise) name.”

At the same time, Capri became more deeply involved in development deals for Toby Keith restaurants.

Kreisberger said Capri’s attitude toward him changed.

“Our personal relationship went from laid-back to a little more serious. His tone and body language changed. I wouldn’t call him hostile. I just felt like I was expendable. He didn’t need me anymore.”

Court and business records show that by 2010 both of Capri’s indoor playgrounds were shut down at the Mesa and Chandler malls amid allegations he failed to pay rent.

RED Development Co. of Phoenix accused Capri and his company of reneging on a 10-year lease. The lawsuit said they stopped paying rent in Chandler within months of opening and owed more than $224,000.

The case was settled for undisclosed terms, becoming a prototype for dozens of lawsuits that later would be filed against Capri and his companies by developers and mall owners over the Toby Keith restaurants.

Kreisberger said he considered suing Capri, but his lawyer told him to sever ties and walk away. He did — and never worked with Capri again.

Kreisberger said the sting of his loss never went away completely. Five years later, when he learned Capri was negotiating a lease to open another Toby Keith restaurant at the CityNorth mall in Phoenix, Kreisberger said he called the developers to warn them.

He said past CityNorth representatives told him they were aware of Boomtown’s reputation and had built protections into the contract.

“I couldn’t believe it,” he said. “I told them not to go through with it. I told them (Capri) will take the tenant-improvement money and walk away.”

Restaurants closed, not completed

Less than five months after it opened in 2015, the Toby Keith restaurant at CityNorth closed without warning. Employees came to work to find the building locked and a notice from the landlord taped to the door.

It was not the first Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and Grill to close within months of opening. Venues in Orlando, Houston and Oxnard, California, suffered similar fates.

The CityNorth developer joined a growing list of property owners and landlords suing Capri and his company.

The Republic found Capri, Boomtown Entertainment LLC or related entities closed 19 of their 20 Toby Keith restaurants in an 18-month span beginning in 2014.

Closures started in Dallas after a mall owner won a $1.4 million judgment against Boomtown for failure to pay rent, a 2015 Republic investigation found.

More lawsuits followed. A pattern emerged: construction delays, tenant disputes, missed rental payments, delinquent taxes and evictions, which led to more closures and unfinished projects.

The company also had announced deals to build 20 more restaurants that it left unfinished or never started.

Only one of Boomtown’s Toby Keith restaurants, in Foxborough, Massachusetts, remains open. Boomtown in 2015 transferred the restaurant to a holding company at the address of one of Capri’s lawyers.  

Singer collected on naming rights

Boomtown took its name from Toby Keith’s second studio album. The restaurants themselves were named after the country singer's 2003 chart topper "I Love This Bar."

Boomtown wasn’t the only company operating Toby Keith-themed restaurants, but it was by far the biggest.

The concept was part dance hall, part nightclub and part Southern-dining experience. Toby Keith's were built big. The sprawling dining space included a stage for concerts and the centerpiece of each restaurant was an 85-foot-long guitar-shaped bar in star-spangled colors.

Keith's name was on the buildings, but he didn't have an ownership stake in the restaurants. He collected revenue on the naming rights and would make occasional appearances.

Keith has remained silent on Boomtown and Frank Capri. He did not respond to an interview request in 2015 and again this year. It is unknown if Keith knew anything about Capri's background.

Keith licenses his name to other businesses operating Toby Keith's I Love This Bar and Grill locations, including one at Harrah's Las Vegas. The Hal Smith Restaurant Group owns three in Oklahoma. None of those restaurants is connected to Capri.

Property owners and developers accused Capri and his companies of using money designated for construction of their Toby Keith restaurants at one location as a cash machine to pay for improvements at others.

Capri, Boomtown or related entities also were accused of taking money meant to pay plumbers, electricians, landscapers, painters and other laborers — in other words, the kind of “working man” Keith immortalizes in songs and truck commercials.

In 2015 interviews, Boomtown officials said the shutdowns were part of an aggressive new business plan. They said each restaurant was unique and legal issues at one location were unrelated to others. They pointed to the closures of four restaurants that they said soon would be offset by the openings of new ones in Ohio, Pennsylvania and South Carolina.

At the time, The Republic found that Boomtown already had walked away from its lease in Cleveland, delayed construction in Pittsburgh and canceled plans to build in Greenville, South Carolina.

None of the announced restaurants was built.

$65 million in judgments

By August 2017, judges had ordered Capri, Boomtown or related entities to pay more than $65 million in judgments, according to court records and media accounts.

Developers, landlords and contractors in 18 states, including Arizona, California, Florida, Michigan, Ohio and New York, have obtained judgments against Capri and his companies ranging from $2,200 to $10.5 million.

Other lawsuits have been filed against them seeking $3 million in damages.

Capri and his companies also have been hit with $3.2 million in government liens for failing to pay liquor, sales and property taxes.

A Savannah, Georgia, mall that won an $8 million lawsuit against Capri and his companies in 2015 later filed a complaint accusing Capri and business associate Debbie Corvo of fraud, conspiracy and racketeering.

The lawsuit filed in Maricopa County said Capri and Corvo stole tenant-improvement money as part of a “criminal enterprise.” 

The company also accused Boomtown’s former vice president and lawyer, Gregory McClure, of aiding in the fraud, saying he "embezzled or diverted more than $1 million ... to himself." 

McClure said he would not comment and in phone messages asked not to be bothered again.

Lawyers for SSF Savannah Properties said in court documents that Capri and Corvo solicited leases for Toby Keith restaurants, taking large payments for tenant improvements they never intended to make.

Savannah said in court documents that Capri and Corvo knew the restaurants were insolvent when they took the money.

Weeks before Savannah obtained its judgment against Boomtown, Capri, Corvo and McClure concocted a scheme to transfer Boomtown’s interest in more than a dozen Toby Keith restaurants to a holding company, according to Savannah's complaints. They used the holding company to sell Boomtown’s interests, leaving Boomtown unable to pay the $8 million, lawyers said in court documents.

Phoenix lawyer John Condrey, who represents Savannah, said he could not comment on the case. He said Savannah stands by the allegations in its complaints.

Capri and Corvo denied any wrongdoing and have sought to throw out the racketeering claims.

They contended the holding-company transfers were legitimate and asked the court to dismiss all of Savannah’s claims, void the $8 million judgment against Boomtown and award them attorneys’ fees. They also accused McClure of theft.

McClure did not respond to the allegations in court filings.

Kreisberger said he periodically sees Capri shopping and browsing among the northeast Valley’s trendiest malls. Kreisberger said if Capri recognizes him, he doesn’t say anything.

He said Capri moves on in a typically boisterous fashion, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“He’s going to do this again,” Kresiberger said. “He’s going to take advantage of someone. This is what he does.”

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