Police Thought the Murders Were a Mafia Hit

One evening in April 2006, a person sat at their kitchen table.

They were frantically cutting up a newspaper page with scissors.

They were working on a very important project.

It was almost done.

They finished cutting the final letter from the page.

They pasted it onto the sheet of paper.

Then they leaned back to read the message they had assembled from the scraps.

It was a warning.

They were sure it would have exactly the effect they were hoping for.

On Sunday afternoon, March 12, 2006, thirty-nine-year-old Michael Zammitti Jr. drove his ATV across a frozen lake in Freedom, New Hampshire.

The cold air burned his cheeks and his lungs.

But Mike smiled as he drove.

He really loved it here.

Most of the time, Mike lived two hours away in the town of Wakefield, Massachusetts.

But he had been coming to Freedom for years because his parents had a vacation house here.

This tiny lakeside community had always felt like a second home.

A peaceful retreat.

Mike had recently bought his own vacation house in Freedom.

Just down the street from his parents.

The purchase had been a big deal for him.

He ran a cement contracting company called Allstate Concrete Pumping.

He had worked hard for many years to build a nice life for his wife Michelle and their three kids.

The second house was proof that he had done it.

But his work had also created issues in his marriage.

Being in charge of a company meant long hours and a lot of responsibility.

Michelle and the kids were on their own quite a bit.

Michelle had to do most of the parenting and most of the household work.

She had recently made it clear that Mike being gone all the time was still really hard on her.

Now out on the lake, Mike could see another ATV coming toward him.

As it got closer, he could see the driver.

It was the other problem in his marriage.

Shawn Fitzpatrick.

Shawn was one of their neighbors on the lake.

He had been a close friend of the family for years.

He was retired and lived in Freedom year-round.

When the Zammittis were there, he would come over for dinners or barbecues.

He would take their kids boating.

He was around so much that Mike’s kids actually called him Uncle Shawn.

Last summer, Mike had found out that Michelle had cheated on him.

With Shawn.

Mike had been devastated.

But he and Michelle had agreed not to give up on their marriage.

They had been going to therapy together ever since.

As for Mike and Shawn’s relationship, Mike still hadn’t spoken to Shawn since finding out.

He mostly just hated confrontation.

It had been easier to avoid Shawn and focus on rebuilding things with Michelle.

Seeing Shawn now made Mike want to turn around and speed off.

But Shawn was already waving him down.

Mike came to a stop.

Shawn pulled his ATV up and did not beat around the bush.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” Shawn said. “I’ve been wanting to apologize about last summer. About Michelle. It obviously wasn’t okay. I hope we can just put it behind us.”

Mike was surprised by how sincere Shawn seemed.

“It’s all good,” Mike said.

He didn’t mean it.

It was definitely not okay.

But Mike was not a confrontational guy.

All he wanted was to get out of this interaction.

He genuinely needed to leave anyway.

He and Michelle and the kids were getting ready to head back to Wakefield soon.

He wanted to go help Michelle pack up.

“I really have to go,” Mike said.

Before Shawn could protest, Mike turned his ATV around and gunned it back across the lake.

Fifteen minutes later, Mike walked into his house.

The first thing he saw was a bunch of suitcases all packed and sitting by the door.

Michelle had already done all the work.

She came in and gave him a kiss.

“The kids are just finishing up cleaning their rooms,” she said. “We can all head out in a few minutes.”

Then Mike heard a car beep twice outside.

Michelle rolled her eyes and laughed.

They both knew it was Mike’s parents.

They had also been in Freedom for the weekend at their house down the street.

They were also making the two-hour drive back to Wakefield this afternoon.

Michelle was laughing because it amused her that neither Mike nor his father could manage to go a single day without talking to each other.

Mike’s dad was also named Michael.

The name was not the only thing they shared.

They were also best friends and co-workers.

Michael Sr. owned the company that Mike ran.

It was a family operation.

Mike Jr. had never even thought of doing anything else.

He jumped into the concrete business right out of high school.

He and his dad had been working together ever since.

Allstate Concrete had had some struggles like any company.

There was a lawsuit from a former employee that had been stressful.

But for the most part, the business was a huge success.

Right now, they were busier than ever.

They were working on an enormous construction project in nearby Boston.

Mike headed outside to say hi to his parents and talk a little business with his dad.

He asked Mike Sr. if he had called their employee, Chester Roberts, yet.

Mike and his dad had plans to be at the office first thing tomorrow morning.

Mike wanted Chester to be there too.

Chester worked part-time for them as a driver and handyman.

He was easily the most reliable employee they had.

Whenever they had a packed week ahead, they always called Chester in.

Mike Sr. said yes.

He had already spoken to Chester.

They were good to go.

They all said their goodbyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mike Jr. told his dad.

Just before 8:00 a.m. the next morning, Monday, March 13, Mike Jr. pulled his truck into the parking lot of Allstate Concrete.

He was right on time.

He could see he was the first vehicle there.

He got out and hustled across the lot because it was raining.

He unlocked a side door by one of the garage doors.

The Allstate building was basically a massive garage with three huge roll-up doors for their cement trucks.

It also had an upstairs office where Mike and his father did all their administrative work.

Mike went in through the side door into the big garage.

He headed up a set of steps to his office on the second level.

He sat in his desk chair.

He started going over the week’s logistics.

A few minutes later, he heard another vehicle pull into the lot outside.

He figured it was his father.

Chester often came to the office on foot.

Then he heard the downstairs door open.

Footsteps came up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Mike Sr. pulled his truck into the Allstate parking lot.

He parked next to his son’s truck.

He hopped out and walked quickly to the building’s side door to get out of the rain.

He tried to push the side door open.

It got stuck on something.

It wouldn’t open all the way.

He looked through the crack to see what was blocking the door.

He froze.

There was a man lying face down inside the building.

In a huge pool of blood.

It was dark inside.

Mike Sr. could not see the man’s face.

He had no idea who this guy was.

But he knew instinctively that it was not his son.

Mike Jr. was a big guy.

Even in the dark, it was clear this man had a different build.

Mike Sr.’s heart pounded.

All he could think to do was back away.

He grabbed his cell phone and called 911.

After he got off the phone, the dispatcher said they were sending people now.

But Mike Sr. realized he could not just wait.

There was clearly someone either badly hurt or dead in his garage.

His son was likely somewhere inside too.

His truck was here.

He had to go in and make sure his son was okay.

Mike Sr. walked away from the blocked door.

He pulled up one of the big roll-up garage doors.

Once it was open, he didn’t see anyone.

He ran inside and began frantically screaming his son’s name.

No answer.

No sign of him anywhere.

He ran to the staircase.

He went up to the second-floor office.

As soon as he barged in, he stopped in horror.

There, sitting slumped in the desk chair, was the blood-covered body of his son.

Over an hour later, Massachusetts State Trooper Kevin Baker pulled up in front of Allstate Concrete.

The large building was already roped off with caution tape.

A dozen or more crime scene techs and officers moved in and out of an open garage door.

Baker was not with the Wakefield Police Department.

He was with the state police.

In Massachusetts, state troopers conduct homicide investigations alongside local authorities.

Baker had a feeling this case would need his help.

Wakefield did not get many homicides.

The town was ten miles north of Boston.

It had a reputation as a peaceful and safe place.

The kind of small town where everyone actually knew each other.

Baker got out of his cruiser and looked for whoever was in charge.

An officer hurried up to him.

“Detective Richard Cass,” the officer said. “Follow me.”

As they walked toward the open garage door, Cass briefed Baker.

Two male victims inside.

Both deceased.

Both shot.

Found by the company’s owner, Michael Zammitti Sr., a little after 8:00 a.m.

Baker followed Cass into the garage and over to the first body.

Face down on the floor just inside a smaller side door.

“Chester Roberts,” Cass said. “Fifty-one years old. Part-time truck driver for Allstate.”

Chester did a lot of handiwork around town.

He was known by all the locals, including Cass himself.

Baker could tell right away that Chester had been shot in the back.

A single shot.

Most likely from a shotgun.

There was a blast radius with a spray of little pellets.

Chester had no other visible injuries.

No defensive injuries.

Baker looked around the garage.

Nothing pointed to a robbery or any kind of struggle.

Pricey equipment just sitting around.

Nothing toppled over or obviously out of place.

Baker guessed that the killer had snuck up on Chester.

Shot him in the back before he even had a chance to turn around.

Baker spent a few more minutes looking at the doors and windows.

No signs of forced entry.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Chester had likely opened up for the day and begun work.

The killer just came in after him.

Baker told Cass he was ready to go up to the second floor.

Cass led him into the office where Mike Jr. had been found.

“Just like with Chester,” Cass said sadly, “I knew Mike personally too.”

Mike Jr. had not just been shot in the torso like Chester.

He had been shot in the face and in the chest.

The force of the shots was so powerful that his desk and surrounding paperwork were drenched in blood.

Mike was basically unrecognizable.

What struck Baker the most was not just how gruesome this was.

Mike Jr. was still slumped in his chair.

In his office.

Whoever did this went in there to execute Mike.

Very intentionally.

They marched in.

They didn’t touch anything else.

They shot Mike right in the face with a shotgun before Mike could even get up.

This seemed very intentional.

Somebody came here to kill Mike.

Baker realized this likely meant Mike Jr. was shot first.

Before Chester even arrived.

Otherwise, Mike Jr. would have heard the gunshot downstairs.

He would not have been so caught off guard sitting in his chair.

If Mike was the first person shot, it further suggested he was the main target.

The crime scene was gruesome.

But considering what it was, it was remarkably clean.

No bloody footprints.

No indication the killer had interacted with the scene.

Baker told Cass what he was thinking.

Cass had a thoughtful look on his face.

“I know the Zammittis pretty well,” Cass said. “Mike Jr. and his father are really good people. I find it hard to believe they were involved in any shady mafia business deals.”

But he conceded it was possible.

Especially since the Zammittis were contractors on a project called the Big Dig.

Baker raised his eyebrows.

The Big Dig was literally the biggest construction project in the country.

It involved building a tunnel under the harbor in Boston.

It had been a total disaster.

Way over budget.

Going on for fifteen years and still not done.

The project had been famously hampered by mafia dealings and corrupt payoffs.

Baker had to wonder if the Zammittis had been involved in those deals.

Or if they had accidentally upset the wrong person on the job.

Even if the murders had nothing to do with the mob, Baker thought it was very likely the killer was connected to their business.

Someone who had worked at Allstate.

Or someone who had been a client.

Someone who would know where Mike worked in the building.

Someone who would know he was there early in the morning.

The second victim, Chester, was probably not the primary target.

Baker was not sure yet why he was also killed.

Maybe he was just at work at the wrong moment.

Or maybe he was wrapped up in the same conflict.

Baker stood there staring at the blood-soaked paperwork on the desk.

“We’ll need a list of all of Allstate’s employees and clients,” he said.

He noticed a sixteen-gauge shotgun shell on the floor.

He grabbed a nearby tech.

“Bag this. See if you can locate any other shells.”

Baker and Cass headed outside.

A crowd of people had gathered around the police perimeter.

Baker asked Cass if they could start by speaking with Michael Zammitti Sr.

Cass shook his head.

“When I first got to the scene, Michael Sr. was so distraught he could barely speak. I sent him home.”

Another officer had done the same with Mike Jr.’s wife, Michelle.

She showed up totally hysterical.

She said she had heard there was an accident.

They told her her husband was dead and took her home.

Baker understood but was not thrilled.

He preferred to speak to witnesses and family quickly and in person.

In a murder, a spouse is always a suspect.

He was especially disappointed to have missed Michelle.

But there was still plenty to do at the scene.

The Wakefield police knew where the family could be found later.

“Let’s start canvassing the nearby businesses,” Baker said.

The following morning, March 14, Baker parked his car in front of Mike Sr.’s house.

Detective Cass was with him.

They had just gotten the autopsies back.

Chester had been shot once.

Mike twice.

Both died within seconds.

Nothing they didn’t already know.

But they did have one potential lead from their canvas of the neighborhood.

No surveillance cameras at Allstate.

But some businesses around Allstate had them.

Baker had officers scrubbing through that footage.

He also had another team interviewing Chester Roberts’ family.

There was still a chance that Chester was actually the target.

Crime techs had not found much physical evidence.

No fingerprints.

It had been raining, so they could not collect footprints or car tracks from outside.

Baker knocked on the front door.

A minute later, Baker and Cass sat in the living room with Mike Sr. and Pat, Mike’s mom.

Both parents seemed incredibly emotional.

Mike Sr. was visibly shaking.

Pat just cried.

Seeing how upset they were made Baker realize Cass had made the right call yesterday.

Even twenty-four hours later, it was still going to be hard to get real answers.

Baker decided to keep it brief.

He asked Mike Sr. to go over the discovery of the bodies.

What Mike Sr. said lined up with everything Baker had heard.

Then Baker moved on to the real reason he was there.

“Is there anybody in Mike Jr.’s life who might have wanted to hurt him?”

Mike Sr. took a few shaky breaths.

“There are a few people in the industry we don’t necessarily get along with,” he said. “But mostly we try to have good relationships. Getting in fights is bad business.”

Then he sat up straighter.

Like he just thought of something.

“Actually, there was a former coworker who definitely had a grudge against us. My nephew, Hank Jennings. He got mad about unpaid overtime wages and filed a lawsuit against us. We eventually paid him a settlement. But we still all hate each other.”

Mike Sr. looked at his wife.

Pat nodded.

“The whole thing was really high stress,” she said. “Very volatile.”

Baker took down Hank’s information.

He talked with Mike’s parents for a few more minutes.

Then he nodded to Cass.

They stood to leave.

Two days later, Baker sat in Cass’s office at the Wakefield Police Department.

He was pouring over crime scene photos and witness statements.

He was starting to get antsy.

After meeting with Mike’s parents, he had been excited to speak with Hank Jennings.

The disgruntled former employee who also happened to be Mike’s cousin.

But even though Baker and Cass had sent officers to track Hank down, they had not been able to get a hold of him yet.

They had gotten in touch with Michelle, though.

They had questioned her at her house.

She had not given them much.

She said she was at home with her kids at the time of her husband’s death.

She did not know of anybody who would want to hurt Mike Jr.

Baker and Cass had also looked into Allstate’s financial statements.

Nothing suggested any shady or mafia-related activity.

Still, Baker knew they were better off than they had been a few days ago.

They had reviewed surveillance footage from the businesses around Allstate.

One security camera had been aimed at the street right outside Allstate.

The angle did not show the parking lot itself.

But it did show everyone who entered and exited that parking lot from the street.

The camera picked up Mike Jr.’s truck arriving at 7:39 a.m.

At 7:44 a.m., an unknown green pickup truck pulled in as well.

A few minutes after that, Chester Roberts arrived on foot.

At 7:50 a.m., the green truck left the parking lot.

Twelve minutes before Michael Sr.’s red truck arrived at 8:02 a.m.

Whoever the killer was, they had driven that green truck.

They had killed Mike and Chester between 7:44 and 7:50 a.m.

The video was not clear enough to show the driver or the plates.

But knowing the style and color of the killer’s vehicle would help narrow down suspects.

Just then, the desk phone rang.

Cass grabbed it and said hello.

A confused look came over his face.

He thanked the caller and said they would be right over.

He hung up.

“That was Michelle Zammitti,” he said. “She said she has new information. Something she didn’t mention in her first interview. She said it’s really important.”

Fifteen minutes later, Baker and Cass sat down across from Michelle in her living room.

She seemed very different from the last time they spoke.

Two days ago, she had seemed horrified and grief-stricken.

Now she just seemed nervous.

She kept touching her hair.

She fiddled with a stack of condolence cards on the coffee table.

“That’s a lot of cards,” Baker said.

Michelle nodded.

“So many people have reached out. All our friends and neighbors in Wakefield and in Freedom, New Hampshire.”

She took a breath.

She got straight to the reason she had called.

“I withheld information about one of our neighbors in Freedom. His name is Shawn Fitzpatrick. I had an affair with him.”

Baker cleared his throat in surprise.

“Go on,” he said.

Michelle’s eyes filled with tears.

Mike worked so much.

She and the kids spent a lot of time at the lake house.

That meant they spent a lot of time with Shawn.

Eventually, their friendship grew into a romance.

Baker could not believe what he was hearing.

A secret love triangle gave both Shawn and Michelle plenty of motivation to want Mike dead.

But before he could ask follow-up questions, Michelle said her husband actually knew about the affair.

They had been in therapy.

They had begun to completely turn their marriage around.

A month ago, she had officially broken things off with Shawn.

Shawn had been really upset about it.

Baker shared a look with Cass.

They were both thinking the same thing.

They needed to speak to Shawn immediately.

But Michelle was also back to being a primary suspect.

Maybe she had wanted her husband out of the picture so she could be with Shawn.

Maybe the only reason she was telling them this was to get ahead of it.

They would need a lot more evidence before they could prove any of that.

Baker got Shawn’s number and address.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said.

Later that night, Baker and Cass were back in Cass’s office.

Another officer was there to give them a crucial update.

After speaking with Michelle, Baker had sent a team of officers up to Freedom, New Hampshire.

They went to speak with Shawn.

Now one of those officers was back to tell them what he had learned.

“Did you see a green truck in Shawn’s driveway?” Baker asked.

The officer shook his head.

“Shawn does own a truck. But it’s bright red.”

He went on.

When they spoke to Shawn, he completely denied having an affair with Michelle.

He admitted he had dated a lot of girls.

But he insisted he and Michelle were just close family friends.

The officers let Shawn talk.

They never told him that Michelle had already admitted to the affair.

They knew Shawn was lying.

Baker almost laughed.

If Shawn was lying, that made him seem pretty guilty.

But before he could say so, the officer added one more thing.

“Shawn actually has a solid alibi. He was at home on the morning of the murders. One of his neighbors confirmed it. She takes her morning walk every day at 9:00 a.m. She saw Shawn outside his house right around then.”

Baker did the math.

It took around two hours to drive between Freedom and Wakefield.

Shawn would not have had enough time to kill Mike and Chester by 7:50 a.m. and then get to Freedom by 9:00 a.m.

Shawn Fitzpatrick suddenly felt like another very promising dead end.

On March 18, five days after the murders, Baker and Cass stood at the back of a church in Wakefield.

They were there for Mike’s funeral.

The church was packed.

But the investigators were not just there to pay their respects.

They were also there to speak to Hank Jennings.

Mike’s cousin who had filed the lawsuit.

They still had not been able to officially get a hold of Hank.

Cass suggested they corner him at the funeral.

Despite his rift with the Zammittis, he was still family.

When the service wrapped up, everyone stood to leave.

Baker felt a nudge on his arm.

Cass leaned over and whispered, “We were right.”

He pointed out Hank in the crowd.

As the attendees filed out, the investigators pushed their way over to Hank.

They got in front of him just before he could step outside.

Baker noticed Hank’s whole body go tense.

Like he wanted to make a run for it.

“Hank,” Baker said. “Will you come with us and speak to us, please?”

Hank’s eyes got wide.

“No way,” he said. “Not without my lawyer.”

He pushed past them and hurried outside.

Baker and Cass exchanged a look.

Hank was obviously their primary suspect.

Five weeks after the funeral, in mid-April 2006, Baker sat in Cass’s office.

He was wearing gloves.

He was holding a piece of paper that looked like an old-fashioned ransom note.

It was covered in letters that had been clearly cut out of a newspaper.

It spelled out a very alarming message.

Close business now or more family will die.

Mike Jr.’s mother, Pat, had brought it to them.

She said they had received it in the mail that morning.

For the Zammittis, this letter was terrifying.

It was not just a reminder of their son’s murder.

It was a promise that there would be more violence.

But for Baker, the note was a lead.

They really needed one.

It had been over a month since Mike and Chester were killed.

At this point, they had managed to rule out basically every suspect.

Including Hank Jennings.

Hank’s reluctance to meet with them was not because of guilt.

It was because he had signed a non-disclosure agreement during the settlement.

He did not want to break it.

When they finally spoke to him, he clearly had an alibi.

He was at work when Mike and Chester were killed.

His employer confirmed it.

And while Hank did own some shotguns, none of them were sixteen-gauge.

Hank joined the pile of discarded suspects.

Michelle could have had motive.

She was wrapped up in an affair with their neighbor.

But she had been incredibly cooperative.

They had not found any evidence that she might have hired someone.

Shawn was also very suspicious.

He had a strong motive to kill Mike.

But his alibi had cleared him.

There was no way Shawn could have been in Wakefield during the murders.

His neighbor saw him at his home over a hundred miles away about an hour later.

Now this warning note seemed to point back to the theory they had ruled out at the beginning.

The murders were business-related.

The mafia was involved.

Cass was a local.

He told Baker there had been a lot of rumors swirling around the community.

Because of the Zammittis’ role in the Big Dig, the general consensus was that the mob theory made the most sense.

Baker was not so sure.

They had looked into the Zammittis’ books and records repeatedly.

They had not seen anything to suggest shady deals or mob interaction.

Also, Baker did not think this ransom-style note made from newspaper clippings was the mob’s style.

It felt silly.

Performative.

Like somebody was trying to make it seem like the mob.

To lead the investigation in the wrong direction.

But even if that was the case, this note was still huge.

Whoever sent it might have left their fingerprints or DNA on it.

Baker bagged the note.

Cass sent it to the crime lab.

The results would not be immediate.

While they waited, Baker wanted to re-interview all their suspects and witnesses.

In case they had overlooked anything.

A few days later, Baker sat alone at Cass’s desk.

He was reading another witness statement.

He had been revitalized by all the new evidence.

He was feeling optimistic.

Aside from conducting new interviews, they had gotten some forensics from that ransom letter.

The lab had found both DNA and a palm print on it.

Now they just needed a suspect to compare it to.

The office door flung open.

Cass barged in.

He looked excited.

An hour later, Baker and Cass walked up the front steps of Michelle Zammitti’s house.

They knocked on the front door.

When she answered, they asked for permission to come inside.

They wanted to take a certain small object from her house.

Michelle was confused by what they were asking for.

“Okay,” she said. “Come on in.”

They went right past her.

They went straight to the object.

They bagged it.

They went right back outside.

They sent it off to the crime lab.

As soon as the lab test results came back, Baker and Cass knew they had solved the case.

Based on DNA, other forensic evidence, and witness statements, here is what police believe happened.

At 7:45 a.m. on March 13, 2006, the killer crept up the stairs to Mike’s office.

They had a shotgun.

Their heart was racing.

They were very nervous about what they were about to do.

But Mike Jr. had to go.

That was all there was to it.

When the killer reached the office door, they barely hesitated.

They pushed it open.

They raised the shotgun.

Mike was sitting in his desk chair.

When the door opened, he turned toward the killer.

His eyes went wide.

The killer fired two blasts before Mike could even move.

One in the face.

One in the chest.

Mike slumped over in his seat.

He stopped moving.

The killer ran back down the stairs to the garage.

But before they could leave, they froze.

Footsteps approached the building’s side door from outside.

The killer hid.

They waited for this person to either come inside or leave.

When the person came inside, it was a man.

It was Chester.

The killer leapt out.

They shot him right in the back.

He dropped to the ground dead.

After killing Chester, the killer felt shocked.

They had not planned on killing a second person.

Mike was the target.

But they could not wait around for more people to arrive.

The killer left the building.

They jumped into the truck they had stolen from one of their neighbors.

They peeled out of the parking lot.

Less than ten minutes after they had arrived.

As they drove, they gripped the wheel tightly.

They knew they should feel guilty.

But instead, all they felt was relief.

Now they could finally be with the love of their life.

Michael Zammitti Jr. and Chester Roberts were not murdered by Mike’s wife.

Not by his cousin.

Not by the mob.

They were killed by Mike Jr.’s lakeside neighbor and his wife’s lover.

Shawn Fitzpatrick.

Here is how they caught him.

When Michelle tried to break things off with Shawn, she said the only reason she would ever leave Mike was if Mike ended things or if something happened to him.

Michelle meant that as an excuse.

Shawn took it as a suggestion.

He murdered Mike Jr. to steal his wife.

Shawn took that green pickup truck from a neighbor who was out of town.

He drove it to Wakefield.

He committed the murders.

He came back.

That neighbor who said she saw Shawn at his house in Freedom around 9:00 a.m.?

The one who made it impossible for Shawn to have done it based on timing?

She called back.

She amended her statement.

She had actually seen Shawn later in the day.