Justin pierce anyone?

[Tonyko]

http://s3.postimg.org/7jx3s4m0j/image.jpg

 

In MY opinion maybe the most BEAUTIFUL wrestler who ever lived. (someone asked about him in another thread) If anyone's curious, he is now a WEALTHY guy, because HE is the Justin in the article below. Hmmmm....

 

http://www.pressreader.com/usa/the-washington-post/20120924/281578057869770

It was two years ago this month that Sam Del Brocco, the popular and charismatic marketing executive from Alexandria, went down to South Florida for the weekend and never came back. He was slain in a brutal attack that stretched over three floors of his Pompano Beach townhouse and left blood and broken furniture strewn around him. He was 60 years old.

 

No one ever was arrested, and Del Brocco’s family and friends here still await answers. The executor of his estate, longtime friend Carlos Larraz, met with Broward County sheriff’s investigators last month and came away insulted and angry. But Larraz and others have raised the money for a $25,000 reward, and he is headed back to Florida this week to begin distributing posters and flyers about the case, and speaking to the media there, in hopes of sparking some movement in the case.

 

Adding to the unsolved mystery, Broward detectives told Del Brocco’s friends in Alexandria that he was well known in the gay bars of Fort Lauderdale, and may have met his killer in one of them.

 

 

None of Del Brocco’s friends suspected he was gay and police have no indication that he did anything other than visit the bars. “Absolutely not,” Larraz said he told the detectives when they asked if Del Brocco was gay. “I did a lot of male bonding with Sammy. We traveled together. He was a ‘guy’s guy.’”

 

Del Brocco built PCI into a company with clients such as Fannie Mae and the Washington Nationals. It now has 30 employees. “He’d be proud of the company,” Sprague said this week. ”It’s thriving.”

 

Del Brocco also had a fanatical interest in real estate, and began buying and selling houses in Alexandria and condos in Florida. “I think he might have been an architect in a prior life,” Shafer said. “He was always interested in getting a bigger, better place. If he didn’t have a major renovation project going in the house, we were going to be moving soon.”

 

During a visit to New York in 2003, Del Brocco met Justin DeVinney, then 25, through mutual friends. DeVinney had a marketing degree and had worked for New York Life, dabbled in modeling and liked to drive fast cars. Del Brocco soon hired him to work in PCI’s small New York office. DeVinney sometimes visited PCI’s Alexandria headquarters and stayed with Del Brocco and Shafer. In 2005, Del Brocco moved DeVinney to PCI’s main office, and DeVinney moved in with Del Brocco and Shafer, staying in their guest room.

 

DeVinney helped Del Brocco renovate houses and the two bought several properties together. They traveled together. Friends saw DeVinney as the son Del Brocco never had.

 

“Sam was like a father figure to me,” DeVinney said. “He helped me grow professionally. I believe he saw me as a protege.”

 

In the spring of 2010, Del Brocco swung some of his biggest deals, purchasing both an eight-bedroom, $1.1 million house on Collingwood Road in the Fort Hunt area and also an $850,000 townhouse in a gated community in Pompano Beach. He spent many weekends at the new townhouse in Florida, but weeks in the Fort Hunt house overseeing contractors while working off a folding table amidst the dust, Shafer said.

 

DeVinney moved into a guest house behind the Fort Hunt residence. But he and Del Brocco appeared to be growing apart. “There were tensions,” said Jackson Bain, a longtime friend of Del Brocco’s and a former WTTG-5 anchorman. Larraz said, “ They used to always go together to Florida.”

 

In the second weekend of September 2010, when Del Brocco headed to Pompano for the weekend, DeVinney instead met friends in New York and attended the first New York Giants game of the year. DeVinney said the last time he saw his mentor was Sept. 10, 2010, at the PCI office just off Duke Street.

 

Police said Del Brocco was last seen at a restaurant called Kelly’s Landing. Though some of Del Brocco’s friends were told by a detective that surveillance video captured him in his car with another person later that night, Torres said that was untrue.

 

When no one could reach Del Brocco on Sunday, and he hadn’t done his customary harassment of his contractors on the Fort Hunt house, Larraz called police. They discovered Del Brocco that night, Sept. 12. Torres said there were no signs of forced entry, and he declined to say if anything was taken.

 

“There is physical evidence that we’ve obtained” from the crime scene, Torres said, though he declined to say whether it was DNA.

 

Investigators also learned something interesting about Del Brocco’s finances: He had left 50 percent of his estate to DeVinney, 25 percent to Larraz, 20 percent in a trust for Shafer, and 5 percent to longtime Florida friend Greg Czarnecki.

 

“I didn’t know I was in his will,” DeVinney said. “I didn’t know...It’s not something people really talk about.”

 

Broward investigators came to Alexandria, seized all the computers and cell phones and cameras from the Fort Hunt house, and interviewed both Del Brocco’s family and friends and his co-workers at PCI.

 

“I’m sure everybody in [Del Brocco’s] estate was a suspect,” DeVinney said. “They quickly moved on to other things after they came and talked to us. I don’t feel I’m a suspect.”

 

Larraz agreed that, at first, “They were following the money trail. They were trying to establish motive, I don’t know they were able to find a scent on that trail. That morphed to thinking it was more of a random act, a bad encounter.”

 

Shafer said she believed Del Brocco was spending his spare time either checking out real estate properties or buying supplies at Home Depot. ”I didn’t have the sense when he was down there that he was involved in social activities,” she said. “I have no reason to believe he was leading two lives.”

 

But neither trail — either a killing for money or a random killing — led anywhere. Torres said all possibilities remain open and no one has been ruled out as a suspect.

 

 

Here is a link to the new reward flyer printed by Larraz. Anyone with information about Del Brocco’s death can call the Broward County Sheriff’s Department at 954-493-TIPS.

 

By Tom Jackman | 01:39 PM ET, 09/19/2012

 

Categories: Alexandria, Crime

[Tonyko]

AND THE MORE TABLOID VERSION LOL. THANKFULLY, ACQUITING HIM

http://www.miaminewtimes.com/news/millionaires-murder-case-opens-the-book-on-flings-with-male-porn-stars-strippers-6396211

 

"We're finished!" Samuel Del Brocco shouted. The words crashed off the walls of the $2 million mansion, careened across the 500-square-foot swimming pool, and spilled into the quiet Washington, D.C. suburb. "Get your shit and get out!"

Justin DeVinney said nothing. He just seethed with rage.

They were an odd couple. Del Brocco was a 60-year-old diabetic with color-treated hair. Recent weight-loss surgery had left skin drooping off him like a hound dog. DeVinney, on the other hand, was a Calvin Klein ad come to life — tall and handsome and muscular. The only hint that he had cracked 30 were the crow's-feet around his pale blue eyes.

 

They were uncle and nephew, neighbors assumed. Mentor and protégé, co-workers thought. But then there were the rumors: They were lovers.

 

Whatever their relationship, it was suddenly over. After Del Brocco's tirade, DeVinney climbed into his Escalade and drove away. Del Brocco told friends that DeVinney had been ungrateful and swore he would cut the younger man out of both his company and his $6 million will.

 

He never had a chance. Just days after the fight, Del Brocco was found stabbed to death inside his Pompano Beach townhouse.

 

For three years, DeVinney would be the main suspect in Del Brocco's murder. Last summer, however, DNA evidence led detectives to a drug-addled Miami porn star named John Snavely, who faces a strong case when he goes to trial later this year.

 

But court documents also paint a troubling picture of DeVinney's relationship with Del Brocco and open a window into the millionaire's secret South Florida life of sex, drugs, lies, and sugar babies. They also offer ample ammunition for Snavely to mount a defense on the stand.

 

Del Brocco introduced the tall, square-jawed 25-year-old as Justin DeVinney, PCI's newest employee. They had met in a hotel bar in New York and begun talking about business, Del Brocco said. DeVinney was a model and bartender but wanted to make better use of his college degree. Impressed, Del Brocco offered him a job.

 

It's unclear how Del Brocco and DeVinney actually met. But what is certain is that the two hid the younger man's true background. Originally from Rochester, New York, DeVinney had posed nude for Playgirl and other softcore porn publications while also performing as an exotic dancer, according to police depositions.

 

One of DeVinney's employers was a company called BG East. *Advertising itself as "gay-oriented wrestling," BG East produced videos that depicted buff men in Speedos pinning, choking, and, in some cases, blowing one another. "You did a wrestling match and they would depict it in a way [that] was homosexual and sell it," DeVinney would later tell cops.

 

In D.C., however, Del Brocco didn't mention DeVinney's risqué wrestling resumé. Instead, he handed his handsome apprentice a cushy job for $36 an hour. DeVinney made nearly $100,000 his first year — an amount that would climb to $377,000 only six years later — yet no one else at PCI knew what, exactly, he did.

 

In fact, DeVinney later admitted to detectives he had been addicted to OxyContin. Del Brocco and DeVinney were now spending every day together. Sam gave Justin special bonuses that other employees didn't get, and the two traveled to Brazil, Europe, and the Dominican Republic together.

 

In May 2010, Del Brocco bought an eight-bedroom mansion in Alexandria, Virginia. Schafer was given a room. To the surprise of their friends, so was DeVinney. Another PCI employee, Donna Jeffries, was convinced that Del Brocco and DeVinney were "lovers." They are "in a gay relationship and everyone at PCI knows it," she later told detectives.

 

Soon they were jetting down to South Florida together almost every weekend. Sam had a gray Porsche. Justin had a black one, plus the keys to a red Ferrari. The sexagenarian and his sexy sidekick would go to dinner at expensive restaurants such as DeVito South Beach and hit up strip clubs like Solid Gold, Scarlett's, and Cheetah.

 

Del Brocco, at least, also had other tastes. He frequented gay strip clubs like Dudes, Johnny's, and Boardwalk. He scouted the stage for clean-cut studs. And he plied them with coke, crack, cash, booze, and weed — whatever it took to get them back to his place for a "private dance," strippers told police.

 

DeVinney denies being involved in Del Brocco's frenetic gay fiestas. Sam would often just disappear, Justin told cops. "Where did he go? I don't know. Who'd he see? I don't know."

 

There were other strains between the two, however. By late summer, living together had worn on both men. DeVinney began talking behind Del Brocco's back, complaining that Sam was a control freak. Del Brocco began telling friends that Justin was ungrateful.

 

Finally, in early September, the simmering fight burst into a full boil. Del Brocco threatened to throw DeVinney out of his house, his company, and his will. A few days later, when Del Brocco flew down to Pompano Beach for a Labor Day party, DeVinney stayed behind.

 

The next weekend, on September 11, Del Brocco again flew alone to Florida. He spoke on the phone with contractors in Virginia, ate dinner at Kelly's Landing in Fort Lauderdale, and called his closest friends. Then he set about buying some drugs. Del Brocco met a dealer behind the Burger King at 17th Street and South Federal Highway, bought a crack rock for $20, and headed to the strip clubs.

 

Cell phone records show Del Brocco flitted between gay clubs and his crack dealer all night long. Shortly after midnight, however, he headed back to his Pompano Beach townhouse. He wasn't alone.

 

Broward Sheriff's Office deputies would find Del Brocco's body Sunday evening. The door to the townhouse was open, and bloody size 12 sneaker prints ran through the three-floor home to the bedroom. There, on the floor, Del Brocco lay fully clothed in a pool of blood. He had been stabbed *almost a dozen times in the back and chest.

 

Two Viagra pills lay near his body. A half-smoked joint perched on the arm of a chair, and an empty can of Diet Coke sat in the kitchen, where a bloody knife had been hastily hidden under a throw rug.

 

It didn't take cops long to consider DeVinney a suspect. Several of Del Brocco's friends in D.C. had mentioned the millionaire's strange relationship and recent fights with the much younger man. And when BSO's Detective Duggan looked into Del Brocco's will, he found plenty of motive for murder.

 

Under a will drafted two years earlier, DeVinney was set to receive half of Del Brocco's more than $6 million estate. Jan Schafer, Del Brocco's long-suffering partner, would get only 20 percent. If Del Brocco had lived to carry out his threat to cut his protégé out of the will, it would have cost DeVinney more than $3 million.

 

A few days after the murder, Detective Duggan and his partner flew to D.C. to interview DeVinney. He denied knowing anything about Del Brocco's secret life. He insisted he and Sam were both straight and said there was nothing romantic about their relationship. After an hourlong interrogation, Duggan was exasperated.

 

"Justin, let me paint you a picture," the detective said. "Justin was the eye candy, the attraction for Sam. Sam likes young guys. Everybody and their brother knows that... Justin is the protégé of Sam... Sam takes care of everything... When Sam and Justin have an argument, Justin comes back because he recognizes what he has. He's got a good thing. And he's not stupid."

 

DeVinney had an alibi, though. He was visiting friends in New York City when Del Brocco was killed. He had receipts for his train trip to New York. He even had Facebook photos showing him at a Jets football game Sunday. All of Del Brocco's favorite male dancers also had alibis. And it would end up being almost three years before BSO would believe it had caught Del Brocco's killer. Even then, it happened by luck.

 

On July 19, 2013, DNA from the Diet Coke can in Del Brocco's townhouse was matched to saliva taken from a recently convicted felon. John William Snavely was a stripper and porn star with a penchant for drugs. Seven months earlier, he had been partying with porn buddies in Fort Pierce and had been arrested on marijuana, Xanax, and amphetamine charges.

 

Snavely initially told cops he'd never met Del Brocco. Confronted with DNA evidence and fingerprints pulled from the dead man's Porsche, Snavely shifted to claiming he might have danced for him but had been too high to remember.

 

In his only jailhouse interview, Snavely told New Times that he didn't kill Del Brocco. Perhaps one of his employees had, Snavely suggested. Wasn't there a young guy — Justin something or other — who was in line to get half the fortune?

 

It's an argument that Snavely and his attorney, who didn't respond to requests for comment for this story, are likely to make later this year when his case finally goes to trial. In the meantime, the hulking porn star is sitting in the Broward County Jail.

 

Justin DeVinney's life has taken a much different turn. Thanks to Del Brocco's will, he is now a millionaire at the age of 36. After his mentor's death, DeVinney went about deleting almost every online picture of his unsavory earlier life. Only a few traces of his gay wrestling days remain.

 

He is still handsome and, from the looks of it, having a good time. His Facebook page shows him shooting handguns, driving racecars, drinking wine, and attending galas. It makes no mention of PCI Communications or Samuel Del Brocco.

 

When New Times called DeVinney, he sounded half-asleep.

 

"I'm in Europe right now, and it's like 2 o'clock in the morning," he said. "Why don't you give me a call tomorrow?"

 

We did. He didn't pick up.