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So the feds want Whitey Bulger’s moll, Cathy Greig, to give up the money.

Ha. That’s rich.

Even if Cathy knew where the rest of the dough was stashed, she wouldn’t give it up.

After all, that’s part of her cut. That’s her pension.

To those who believe that Whitey was a gangster with some admirable qualities, Cathy is simply repaying Whitey’s undying love for her.

Remember when Whitey offered to submit himself to the death penalty if only the feds would let his lady love go?

It’s a great story, except it’s just the epilogue of Whitey’s phony narrative.

Whitey’s “I’d die for love” con was his final stab at finishing the work of fiction that was his miserable life. If Whitey wanted to save Cathy, all he had to do was give his blessings and let her cooperate with the feds.


Instead, he let her take the fall, eight years in the can, part of an elaborate ruse to obfuscate the fact that Whitey made millions and millions from poisoning his South Boston neighborhood with drugs that ruined thousands of lives.

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Yeah, that Whitey Bulger was a murdering sociopath and a lying, hypocritical drug dealer, but, boy, wasn’t he a romantic?

It’s all nonsense, of course, as is the idea that Cathy will suddenly melt under the threat of being found in contempt if she tells the grand jury to go pound sand.

She doesn’t even have to risk 18 more months in the can. All she has to say is she doesn’t know where the money is.

I’d sort of believe her because Whitey didn’t tell his women where the money was. He showered them with cash, but never told them where the shower was or how to turn the water on.


When Whitey bought Cathy that house in Squantum, not far from the secret graves where he buried Tommy King, Debbie Davis, and Cathy’s brother-in-law Paul McGonagle, he put one of those liquor canister globes in the dining room. Instead of storing booze in the globe, he placed various denominations of bills. It’s was Cathy’s in-home ATM.

Before he went on the run, Whitey stashed money all over the country, not to mention all around the world. He knew the day of reckoning, when his protectors in the FBI could protect him no more, would eventually come.

Obviously, the feds believe that at some point during their 16 years on the run together, Whitey confided in Cathy where he put all that money.

I doubt it. She wasn’t family.

It’s like that scene in “The Godfather” when Michael tells Tom Hagen, the Corleone lawyer, that he’s out. Vito Corleone loved Tom Hagen like a son, but Hagen wasn’t blood. He was just a loyal servant. Just like Cathy.

Now, I have no doubt that Whitey wanted to provide for Cathy in her old age, given how well she took care of him all those years.

And part of me says she deserves some recompense for having to live with that self-absorbed jerk all those years.

But everything I know about the guy tells me the only people Whitey would trust with access to the hidden millions would be family, blood.

We know Whitey talked to his brother Bill at least once while on the run. We don’t know what was said, and Bill’s memory has been demonstrably bad when asked about such things.


Poor Whitey. He had a sweet crib in the Tucson federal pen. Dry heat, just how he likes it. Fawning acolytes in a unit reserved for informants, sex offenders, and corrupt law enforcement types.

In other words, Whitey’s kind of crowd.

But he recently got the bum’s rush to Florida and now has to sweat it out as the feds put the heat on his girlfriend and, presumably, his kin.

If the feds are serious, Cathy will be just warming up the seat in the grand jury room for lots of people named Bulger.

Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at cullen@globe.com.