The tipster said there were drugs. Then the police heard that there were weapons. A lot of them.
So they prepared a ruse. They would stage a car accident in front of the house, the owner would come out, and they would grab him.
On Wednesday around 6 p.m., the ruse worked. Albert J. Boschi, 40, calmly walked out of his two-story lime-green home in the South Beach section of Staten Island to check on his white sedan, which had apparently been hit. When Mr. Boschi got to the sidewalk, city, state and federal law enforcement officials seized him.
But the real surprise was in the basement, in what one city police official described yesterday as Mr. Boschi's Armageddon den.
In a 12-by-12-foot cinder block bunker, Mr. Boschi had several AK-47's with bayonet mounts, a shotgun, several rifles and handguns, a grenade belt, seven homemade and fully functioning bombs, and 10,000 rounds of ammunition, officials said at a news conference in Manhattan where they displayed some of the seized items. The bunker also contained Nazi paraphernalia, like a red wool armband and a four-inch steel dagger from World War II with Nazi markings, officials said. Alongside the gas masks and chemical suits, the shelves were stacked with canned meat, jars of vegetables and bottled water - enough to feed his family for months, the police said.
"It was like he was getting ready for something really big," said John Peluso, an assistant special agent with the federal Drug Enforcement Administration. "But we have no idea what."
In the house with Mr. Boschi were his girlfriend, Anna Dicamillo, 39, and their 1-year-old son, who was placed with his mother's family. Yesterday, Mr. Boschi and Ms. Dicamillo were arraigned in Staten Island Criminal Court, charged with several counts of criminal possession of a weapon and endangering the welfare of a child. The police said Mr. Boschi had a license for only one of the weapons. Fifteen minutes before staging the accident in front of Mr. Boschi's house, on McLean Avenue, police officers closed off a four-block area and evacuated some of the neighboring houses. A plainclothes agent from a joint drug task force drove up in a car, angled it against Mr. Boschi's to make it look as if it had been hit, and waited for him to come out of the house. The agents lying in wait did not storm the house, officials said, because Mr. Boschi had surveillance cameras in the front and back. In the working-class neighborhood of two-story stucco houses, brick apartment buildings, salons and small shops, residents who had not been evacuated watched the unfolding scene from windows and porches.
Aqim Bacqa, 68, a native Albanian living next door at 182 McLean Avenue, said that the raid had brought back bad memories of his war-torn homeland. He said he had made a habit of keeping his distance from Mr. Boschi, and that Mr. Boschi's two black Labradors were aggressive and scared him. "It was normal to have guns back home. Here it is not normal."
Aldo Dilorenzo, a 53-year- old Staten Island native with a ZZ -Top beard and a loud gravelly voice, said that he was hardly surprised by the news of Mr. Boschi's weapons cache. "I bet if you went into a lot of basements you would find some serious stashes," he said. Standing in front of a display of small, plastic American flags at his 99-cent store around the corner on Ocean Avenue, Mr. Dilorenzo, whom residents referred to as the town mayor, said, "This is the land where people where people are free to do whatever it takes to get noticed."
Known in the neighborhood as the Cowboy for his white cowboy hat with a Confederate flag emblazoned across the front, Mr. Boschi was variously described by neighbors as a survivalist, "a biker boy" and "that Rambo guy." He rode a Harley and liked to hunt, they said. He wore a crew cut and military fatigues, usually with a 10-inch hunting knife strapped to his side.
"Al was a very disciplined person," said Thomas Janul, 28, a construction worker, who described himself as a friend of Mr. Boschi's. Every day before work, Mr. Boschi, an electrician, met Mr. Janul for coffee at Brother's Bagels down the block.
"He did his job, protected his family and knew how to take care of business," Mr. Janul said. "I don't fault him for that."
Sept. 11, 2001, was a turning point, neighbors said. Mr. Boschi hung a four-foot effigy of Osama bin Laden from his porch, and kept it there for nearly a year after the attacks. He tried to sign up for military service but was too old, Mr. Janul said. He had the impression that the American soldiers fighting overseas were doing it simply for the money, and not out of any true sense of mission, Mr. Janul said. "It really bothered him," he said.
Some in the neighborhood said they were aware of Mr. Boschi's views.
"People knew where he stood," said Nick Manzi, 62, the owner of Sol's barbershop. But, he added, "I don't think anyone thought it went this far."
NYTimes.com > New York Region, 30 APR 2004