Rags-to-riches story could end in prison for Spadafora

Sunday, November 02, 2003

By Milan Simonich, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

Boxing champion Paul Spadafora looks gaunt at 5-feet-9 and 139 pounds. Nonetheless, he is a man of ravenous appetites -- for alcohol, for women and for nightlife.

Spadafora trained like a Spartan for his fights, then celebrated victories by indulging all his vices.

	Paul Spadafora, right, throws a combination at Leonard Dorin, of Romania, in the sixth round of the IBF/WBA lightweight title unification fight in Pittsburgh on Saturday, May 17, 2003. The fight was called a draw. (Keith Srakocic, Associated Press) Click photo for larger image. Time Line: Key dates and events in Paul Spadafora's life

"He's the type who could go out to walk the dog and end up cheating on me," says former girlfriend Jody Torino, who remains his confidant. "As for drinking, Paul always had a problem with alcohol. Everybody knew it."

Actually, until his arrest last week on a charge of attempted murder, Spadafora had cultivated a healthy public image. His was the classic story of a disadvantaged kid who made it to the top. Media coverage of him focused mostly on his boxing successes, not his personal excesses.

Born poor and raised in the old factory town of McKees Rocks, Spadafora quit school in the 10th grade, announcing to friends that he planned to become a world champion. Then he went out and did it.

Fighting at 135 pounds, he won the International Boxing Federation lightweight title in 1999 and held it for almost four years. Still unbeaten as a professional at 36-0-1, he relinquished the title this year and planned to move up to the junior welterweight class for 140-pounders.

Now, at 28, his rags-to-riches story could end in disgrace and a prison term.

Spadafora is charged with shooting his girlfriend, Nadine Russo, 20, in the chest. Allegheny County Police say he became enraged at her when she wrecked his Hummer truck outside a McKees Rocks gas station just before 6 a.m. last Sunday.

She was driving because Spadafora had lost his license for a year over traffic violations, one alcohol-related.

For his part, Spadafora first told police he had no idea how or why Russo was shot. Then he gave a different account to a friend, saying a robber stole Russo's purse and shot her.

Russo was being treated at Allegheny General Hospital, which will not disclose her condition.

Spadafora is free on $50,000 bail and trying to lay low. "We're not commenting," said his attorney, William Difenderfer.

Friends of Spadafora's now fall into two camps: those who say he would never shoot Russo or anybody else, and others who do not want to consider the possibility that he is guilty. The thought of it is too painful.

"I'm very sad about this because he's like my son. I don't want to know about the case or think about it," said Jim Cvetic, a retired Allegheny County detective who befriended Spadafora when he was a 15-year-old boxing prodigy.

Cvetic said he still thought of Spadafora as he was in that time of innocence. Back then, Spadafora had no tattoos, no money and no idea that the odds of fighting his way out of McKees Rocks were stacked against him.

What Spadafora had were loads of talent and the work ethic to develop it.

Cvetic, who operates a gym for some 200 young boxers, says Spadafora could slip punches like nobody he had ever seen. In short order, boxing enthusiasts in the Pittsburgh area began comparing Spadafora's defensive skills to those of the great Willie Pep, who supposedly once won a round without landing a punch.

But even in his early years, Spadafora found trouble or it found him.

He had a minor record as a juvenile, though none of his misdemeanors were against people.

At 19, when he was a top-ranked amateur with dreams of making the Olympic team, Spadafora was shot by a police officer.

It happened while Spadafora was riding in a car whose driver ignored a police order to pull over. The driver did not stop until the car smashed into a telephone pole.

During the chase, a policeman fired a shot, and the bullet pierced Spadafora's left leg. The injury knocked him out of boxing for a year, ending his hope of competing for the Olympic team.

Eight months after the shooting, Spadafora was arrested in McKees Rocks and charged with underage drinking. He landed in jail.

By 1998, he claimed his life had stabilized for two reasons: He was becoming a world-class fighter, and Torino had given birth to a daughter, named Natalia Spadafora.

Spadafora initially said the child was his, and that she inspired him to be successful and set a good example.

Later in 1998, when Torino sought child support from Spadafora, he argued in court that he was not Natalia's father. DNA tests proved him correct.

Even so, he occasionally sees the child, who's now 5 years old. He recently bought her a Doberman pinscher.

Spadafora and Torino also have maintained a friendly relationship, despite their courtroom confrontation. She said she regarded him today as a brother, not a boyfriend.

Spadafora called Torino last week, after his release from jail. He said he knew he was in trouble, but that he was blameless in Russo's shooting.

Torino says most of Spadafora's bad behavior over the years can be traced to alcohol abuse. "If he's not drinking, he's the nicest guy in the world. But when he drinks, he's a totally different person."

Another of Spadafora's girlfriends, Crystal Conner, gave a similar account in court documents filed this year. She obtained a restraining order against Spadafora in August, saying he choked her, spat on her and stalked her in jealous rages.

Conner said he was especially abusive when he drank or took drugs.

Spadafora and Conner have a daughter together, a 15-month-old named Giana Spit Spadafora.

The child became ill just after midnight Oct. 24, prompting Spadafora to leave his training camp in California, Pa. He told camp operator Buzz Garnic that he needed to be with Conner and his daughter. Later that morning, Pittsburgh police arrested Spadafora for urinating on a Downtown street.

After his run-in with the law, Spadafora elected not to return to his training camp. Instead, he went to see Russo, who was shot two days later.

Acquaintances of Russo's say she is a mother of two, though neither child lives with her.

Many of Spadafora's buddies regard him as someone incapable of street violence, especially on someone he cares about.

"He's mild-mannered," said J.R. Vivio. "As a friend, it's not right for me to say more than that."

Others who know Spadafora say he can be kind and trusting to the point of stupidity.

In 2002, Spadafora supplied money that helped a suspected cocaine dealer bail himself out of jail.

The man, James S. Adams, also known as "Teardrop," was later arrested at Spadafora's house. Jail officers said Adams was wanted on a parole violation and never should have been freed.

Spadafora immediately called a news conference to say he did not use any illegal drugs. He said he contributed money for Adams' bail only because he wanted to help an acquaintance who was in need.

To Cvetic, Spadafora is as generous and engaging as any athlete on the planet.

"I've never seen this kid turn down an autograph request. He'll sign them for hours. He's somewhat shy in those settings, but always polite."

But county police contend that Spadafora also can explode in fury, as he did after Russo damaged his Hummer. Even after she was shot, police said in an affidavit, Spadafora angrily cursed at a witness who tried to run to Russo's aid.

"Jekyl and Hyde -- you can call him that if you want," Cvetic said. "You've got somebody who may have knocked himself off his own platform."

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