Fatal Mistake
Young, gifted and frantic....
Jayson Williams played everything for laughs, from his NBA adventures to the fortune he made and the mansion he built on 65 acres of New Jersey farmland, with a bronze plaque of himself on the stone wall out front, in his No. 55 Net uniform, his palms up, looking perplexed.
Williams says one of his old friends named the place late one night, or early one morning, on a typical weekend--seven couples staying over--after they’d “hit the vineyard a little bit,” finally looking around and asking:
“Who knew, Jay? Who knew?”
After that, it was formally titled the Who Knew? Estates.
It seemed a happy time. Williams was handsome, well-spoken and outspoken, with a gift for comedy and storytelling that dwarfed even his basketball ability, which was good enough to earn him a $94-million contract before a broken leg ended his playing career. He was generous and friendly as a puppy, to boot, so everyone laughed with him as an NBC commentator and a regular on the Letterman/Imus/Rosie/Regis and Kathie Lee circuit.
Two magazines, GQ and Details, excerpted his NBA diary. Doubleday gave him a fat advance to turn it into a book, which he titled, “Loose Balls,” subtitled “Easy Money, Hard Fouls, Cheap Laughs & True Love in the NBA.”
He wasn’t only a clown, though. His charitable commitment was off the charts, $2.1 million to St. John’s University in the name of his college coach, Lou Carnesecca, $20,000 to arena workers who’d been laid off (from part-time jobs) during the 1999 NBA lockout.
All a charity had to do was approach him and, a friend says, “The tents would go up at his estate.” Next thing you knew, there’d be 1,000 kids from Newark playing on the grounds, with Gov. Christine Whitman or Michael J. Fox or Danny Aiello or Lauren Hutton or Laurence Fishburne.
Nor were these mere photo ops for the media, notes Carnesecca. There were many more instances no one ever heard of, as if Williams felt guilty about having so much--he said as much--and was trying to give it away. Lots of nouveau riche NBA stars were high-stakes gamblers; he was a high-stakes donor.
His greatest gift, however, was people. He was the modern jaded superstar upside down. When he met someone, anyone, his eyes brightened as if he’d been introduced to the president of the United States, or Cameron Diaz.
“He’s a caring person,” Carnesecca says. “He goes out of his way to help people, without people knowing about it.
“You know, I can only speak very, very highly of him. He was a pleasure to coach. He gave me everything he had. I have nothing but the greatest respect for him.”
Unfortunately, friends, now hurting for Williams, also note he lived the way he did everything else, all-out, pushing the envelope, often on the fringe of trouble.
And then the laughter stopped abruptly. In the early morning hours of Feb. 14, another party, one attended by former Net teammates Benoit Benjamin and Chris Morris, was interrupted by a shotgun blast that killed limousine driver Costas “Gus” Christofi, an apparently reformed ex-convict Williams had hired for the night.
Williams was first charged with reckless manslaughter, but last week a grand jury in Flemington, N.J., indicted him on nine counts, among them the more serious charge of aggravated manslaughter, which carries a minimum sentence of 10 years in prison, plus charges of hindering apprehension and tampering with evidence.
Witnesses told police Williams had been holding the gun, taken from a rack in his bedroom, when it accidentally discharged, killing Christofi.
Williams’ adopted brother, Victor Santiago, then called 911 and reported the shooting as a suicide. Two weeks ago, one of the guests, Kent Culuko, testified in court that Williams had told him to wipe the shotgun clean of fingerprints, which Culuko said he did, and to instruct the other guests to tell a cover story.
Williams, free on $270,000 bail, has made only a brief statement since, expressing his regret to Christofi’s family.
Williams’ lawyer, Joseph Hayden, says Williams will plead not guilty, contending, “the death of Mr. Christofi was a tragic accident but not a criminal event.”
Culuko had been a North Jersey high school basketball star, who played at a small college and was cut by the Nets in training camp, where he met Williams.
In typical Williams style, they had remained friends since, although now the story has taken a new twist.
It’s no longer heartwarming, or comedy, or a spirited farce, but pure tragedy.
The Hard Way Up
Nobody knew my troubles because I never told nobody nothin’. I was the kind of guy who was always laughing, always the life of the party. It was a way for me to hide myself. I wanted people to be happy when they were around me. I wanted them to think I was happy. But at the same time, I was daring Jesus to take my life. I became the kind of person who walks into gunfights.
--Williams to Sports Illustrated’s John Ed Bradley, October 1996
In the many volumes of Williams’ quotes, there are dozens that seem to foreshadow such a disaster.
In “Loose Balls,” he recounts an incident at his home with his football-playing friends, Wayne Chrebet of the Jets and Jason Sehorn of the Giants, in which Williams fired a round from a powerful .50-caliber pistol. Had Chrebet not been bending down to pick up a shell, the slug would have hit him in the head.
Then, Williams wrote, while he and others were tending to Chrebet, Sehorn went into the house, later telling Williams he’d been afraid Jayson would have him killed too, if Chrebet had died.
“I’m doing my best to keep from laughing,” Williams says. “And I say with a straight face, ‘Yeah, man, they sure would have. They would have had to silence you. ‘Cause I don’t think you could have held that secret.’”
Of course, with Williams, life of the party, teller of tall tales, it was always about the laughs.
“He embellishes a lot and he’s funny,” Chrebet told the New York Daily News last week. “Everybody loved it back then. Now his whole life is under a microscope and they’re questioning everything he’s ever done.”
For whatever it’s worth, Williams’ book is loaded with anecdotes about guns--Jayson claiming to have threatened Philadelphia 76er teammate Manute Bol’s uncle with an unloaded pistol ... one of his brothers shooting another brother with their father E.J.’s shotgun
In real life, Williams was arrested in 1994 after someone had fired a pistol he owned at an unoccupied car in the Nets’ parking lot. He denied doing the shooting and charges were dismissed after he’d completed a pretrial program, taking out newspaper ads to warn about the dangers of misusing firearms.
Williams’ real life had been challenging enough.
The son of a building contractor from South Carolina and an Italian mother from New York, Williams says he was humiliated by people on both sides of the family, the blacks in the South, the whites in New York, called “half-breed” and “zebra.”
While he was in high school in New York, his older stepsisters, Linda and Laura, contracted AIDS, which would eventually kill them. Jayson helped raise their two children and, when he turned pro and got his own money, adopted them.
His college career had been promising and problematic. In his sophomore year, he hit a fan with a chair during a game at Providence and was jailed overnight before charges were dropped.
As a fledgling pro, mourning his sisters, he was all over the lot, and the league. Drafted No. 21 by the Suns in 1990, he was captured by TV cameras, sitting in his parents’ living room, yelling, “Oh, no, I’m not going to Phoenix!”
He went out for the news conference without his sneakers so he couldn’t work out, and crashed his rental car, on purpose, he claimed. He was so disoriented, he said, he woke up the first morning, looked out the window, saw the desert and thought he’d slept through a nuclear attack.
Duly impressed, the Suns traded him to the 76ers, who were, at least, closer to home. Williams says he impressed 76er officials, who wanted to check him out, by taking them to a nearby playground and throwing down a number of powerhouse dunks. He says he neglected to tell them it was a nine-foot basket.
In real life, he began running around with Charles Barkley, which required a great deal of running. Barkley said later that Williams hadn’t required a lot of leading astray. Williams wrote that Barkley taught him a lot but, “Luckily for me, I’ve ignored some of his lessons--otherwise my liver would be the size of two footballs.”
Nor did this turn out to be good for Williams’ career. He rode the end of the 76ers’ bench for two seasons and the Nets’ bench for three more before Paul Silas, then an assistant under Chuck Daly, convinced Jayson that he could make a contribution if he did one thing well--rebound.
Williams became a starter, an All-Star, the centerpiece of the franchise and a media sensation, as the Knicks fell off and the thousand media outlets of Manhattan began to appreciate his silver-tongued genius.
His basketball career came to an abrupt halt not long after he’d signed his $94-million deal, terminated by a badly broken leg at the end of the 1998-99 season, but his career as an entertainer never faltered. The $94 million was guaranteed.
He was set for life, economically, anyway.
The Fast Way Down
[Stephon Marbury] is saying, “Yo man, I’m twinking about your crib and I want to come out and check out the little pheasants around there and word is, you got a dope vehicle and its music be germing.” And I don’t know what he’s talking about.... So I look at Keith [Van Horn].... Keith looks up from his computer for a second, says, “What Stephon was trying to tell you, Jay, is that he’s heard you have a nice new house and he’d like to visit some time and meet some of the pretty women he has heard you often invite over. And he’s also heard about your new car and its nice new sound system.’ ... I say to Keith, who’s as white as Opie, “How do you understand that lingo?”
--Williams in “Loose Balls”
He always knew better.
That was one of his big things. He wasn’t one of these entourage-packing, out-of-touch megastars, he was grounded. He actually had a union card and could drive heavy equipment, having worked for his father growing up. He was always talking about how his daddy was going to beat the living heck out of him if he got in trouble, and when he did get in trouble, he was always saying he had learned his lesson, promising to leave the crazy life behind as he got older and more successful.
In real life, however, he lived on the edge and kept falling off. One of his former Net coaches remembers talking to him after an incident outside a club. He was alleged to have pushed a cop.
“He said, ‘My daddy didn’t grow me up to be like that,’” says the former coach.
“I said, ‘Jayson, what are you talking about? We all know, you get a couple pops in you ... ‘
“He says, ‘It’s a misdemeanor.’
“He’s personable. You wouldn’t fight him ‘cause he’s strong as an ox. He can be argumentative with the drink. Then something goes on and he’d be at your house the next morning, pulling your car out of the snow.”
Williams had begun renting limos for nights out long before, because he knew he might not be in any shape to drive, which was why Gus Christofi was there that night.
As little as Williams thought of the sight of other players, followed around by entourages, he had his own huge circle, made up of almost every friend he ever had. He loved having people around and he loved performing for them.
“I really like him,” says the wife of a former Net official. “He has a way of making you feel like you’re special. When we heard what happened, [my husband] and I both looked at each other and said, we can see it happening.
“Because he was so proud of that house. He would take anybody to ‘Come see my house.’ We could see him parading people around at 3 o’clock in the morning, showing off his house.”
Fun and tumult ran hand in hand. Williams had his wedding at Who Knew? It was a huge, catered affair, with relatives, friends, Net teammates, coaches and officials attending. Then, within months, the marriage broke up.
Back then, everything seemed to work out for him in the end. He soon was married again, to Tanya, a former St. John’s girlfriend who’d become an entertainment lawyer. His life looked rosy, even if he suffered the usual athlete’s pangs at leaving the game he loved.
Opportunities came looking for him. When Barkley hit it big on Turner’s NBA studio show, NBC went looking for a loose cannon of its own and came up with Williams, who was happy to shoot off his mouth in any case, and especially on camera at those prices.
Talk about perfect. Now he could tell San Antonio’s David Robinson, “Bring your heart,” and sneer at him, “This isn’t a knife fight,” get a laugh and make great money at the same time.
The mad whirl kept going, right up to the night of Feb. 13, when he went to a Harlem Globetrotter game just over the state line in Pennsylvania, to see his former teammates, Benjamin and Morris, who were now Globies.
They went out to dinner after the game and then were driven back to Who Knew?, 11 of them in all.
Christofi, their driver for the night, was invited in, standard practice for Williams, friend to everyone.
About 2:50 a.m., according to witnesses’ accounts, Williams was holding a shotgun when it accidentally discharged, the pellets striking Christofi.
Then, according to Culuko, Williams began trying to make it look like a suicide, instructing Culuko to wipe the shotgun down and to reposition it, changing out of his bloody clothes and giving them to another friend to dispose of (they were later turned over to police).
On April 25, Culuko, given immunity, pleaded guilty to tampering with evidence and tampering with witnesses.
From his testimony in court that day:
Steven C. Lember, acting Hunterdon County prosecutor: Mr. Culuko, with respect to the tampering with evidence charge, on Feb. 14 did you know that there was an official proceeding or investigation into the shooting death of Costas Christofi, which was pending or about to be instituted?
Culuko: Yes.
Lember: And did you know that a shotgun, the shotgun that was used in the shooting, was important to that investigation?
Culuko: Yes.
Lember: And did you alter that shotgun by wiping the shotgun clean of fingerprints and moving it before investigators arrived at the scene?
Culuko: Yes.
Lember: And did you do so upon the instruction by anyone?
Culuko: Yes.
Lember: By whose instruction?
Culuko: Jayson Williams’.
Lember: And with respect to the tampering with witness charge, again you said that you knew an official proceeding or investigation into the shooting death was pending. Despite knowing that, did you tell other witnesses there that they should all agree to say they were downstairs when the shooting occurred?
Culuko: Yes.
Lember: And when you told the other witnesses that story, that they should tell that story, did you know that you were telling those witnesses to inform falsely?
Culuko: Yes.
Lember: And did someone instruct you or urge you to urge others to tell that story to the police?
Culuko: Yes.
Lember: And who was that?
Culuko: Jayson Williams.
Williams will have his day in court. His spokesman and attorney maintain there was no criminal intent, that Christofi’s death was accidental and that when the case comes to trial, Williams will plead not guilty.
No trial date has been set, though, so as a legal story, it’s unresolved.
As a tragedy, it’s ongoing.
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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)
THE NOTABLES
JAYSON WILLIAMS
* Former NBA star. Allegedly shot Costas Christofi by accident while giving about 12 guests a tour of his 30,000-square-foot home in Alexandria Township, N.J. Charged with aggravated manslaughter, evidence tampering, witness tampering, hindering apprehension and conspiracy to obstruct the law.
COSTAS CHRISTOFI
* Killed by a shotgun wound to the chest at Jayson Williams’ estate. Christofi, 55, had been hired to drive several of Williams’ friends from a hotel to a restaurant and back to the hotel in Bethlehem, Pa. Instead, drove the group to Williams’ estate.
STEVEN C. LEMBER
* Acting Hunterdon County (N.J.) prosecutor. His office is handling the criminal charges brought in connection with the shooting at Williams’ estate. His examination of house guest Kent Culuko was key to aggravated manslaughter charge.
KENT CULUKO
* Guest at Williams’ home at time of shooting. Turned state’s witness as part of plea agreement with prosecutors. According to those charges, wiped Williams’ fingerprints off shotgun and helped instruct other guests to lie about shooting.
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Compiled from Associated Press and Times Wire Services reports
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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)
The Chronology
Chronology in 2002 shooting death of limousine driver Costas Christofi and legal action against former NBA player Jayson Williams:
Feb. 14: Christofi is killed by shotgun wound to chest at home of Williams. Originally classified a suicide, the death still is considered “suspicious.”
Feb. 17: Williams’ attorney, Joseph Hayden, denies reports his client’s recklessness caused Christofi’s death.
Feb. 19: Medical examiner rules Christofi died from internal bleeding from gunshot wound to abdomen, Hunterdon County prosecutor Steven C. Lember announces. Prosecutor says witnesses may have misled investigators about circumstances surrounding death.
Feb. 20: Christofi’s death ruled a homicide, which in New Jersey law does not imply intent.
Feb. 25: Williams surrenders to police to be charged with reckless manslaughter. The charge carries a sentence of five to 15 years in prison if convicted. Williams released on $250,000 bail after surrendering his collection of firearms.
Feb. 26: Williams is dropped by NBC from position as a studio analyst of NBA games while charges against him are pending.
March 4: After his first court appearance in the Christofi killing, Williams offers sympathy to family of limo driver he is accused of shooting.
March 11: Williams is charged with hindering apprehension, evidence tampering, witness tampering and conspiracy to obstruct law in alleged cover-up after Christofi was shot. Prosecutors claim Williams tried to wipe his fingerprints off the shotgun that killed Christofi, to plant Christofi’s fingerprints on the gun, and to position the gun to make the wound appear self-inflicted. Williams disposed of his bloody clothes, and instructed guests to lie about the death. Kent Culuko (who met Williams at Net training camp) and John Gordnick were hit with similar charges.
April 25: Culuko agrees to testify against Williams and Gordnick as part of a plea agreement. Culuko pleads guilty in Superior Court in Flemington, N.J., to evidence tampering and witness tampering, admitting that he wiped fingerprints off shotgun and instructed others present in Williams’ house to lie about where in the house they were at the time of the shooting.
May 1: Williams is indicted by a Hunterdon County, N.J., grand jury on charges of aggravated manslaughter, reckless manslaughter, aggravated assault, evidence tampering, witness tampering, hindering apprehension, and fabricating evidence.