10 Chilling Last Words Uttered by Mobsters

For mobsters who spent their lives in the shadow of violence, the moment of death was sometimes the most revealing of all. Their final words — spoken in barber’s chairs, railroad yards, basements and restaurant booths — offer a haunting window into the criminal mind. Some defiant. Some delirious. Some heartbreaking. All unforgettable.

1. Frank Gusenberg — “Nobody shot me”

Frank Gusenberg was an enforcer for Bugs Moran‘s North Side gang — one of seven men caught in the St Valentine’s Day Massacre of February 14, 1929. Al Capone‘s men, posing as police officers, lined up Moran’s crew against the wall of a Clark Street garage and opened fire with Tommy Guns. Six men died instantly. Gusenberg, shot 14 times, somehow survived long enough for the real police to arrive.

What followed was one of the most remarkable demonstrations of omertà in mob history. Sergeant Clarence Sweeney leaned over the dying man and asked who had shot him. Gusenberg, bleeding out from 14 wounds, looked up and said:

“Nobody shot me”

He died three hours later. His refusal to name his killers — even with 14 bullets in him — remains one of the most chilling examples of the mob’s code of silence ever recorded.

2. Anthony Strollo — “I’m only going out for a few minutes”

Anthony “Tony Bender” Strollo was a powerful captain in the Genovese crime family and a close associate of Vito Genovese himself. In April 1962, he told his wife he was going out for a few minutes. He was never seen again. His body was never found.

“I’m only going out for a few minutes”

It is widely believed that Strollo was killed on the orders of Vito Genovese, who suspected him of cooperating with law enforcement. The mundane normality of his last words — the everyday phrase of a man about to vanish — makes them uniquely haunting.

3. Dutch Schultz — “A boy has never wept… nor dashed a thousand kim”

Dutch Schultz — the Bronx Beer Baron — was shot at the Palace Chophouse in Newark, New Jersey on October 23, 1935. The hit was ordered by Lucky Luciano and the Commission after Schultz refused to stop threatening to murder Special Prosecutor Thomas Dewey. Schultz was shot in the stomach and lingered for 22 agonising hours, drifting in and out of consciousness.

A Newark police stenographer sat beside his hospital bed and recorded every word. What emerged was one of the strangest monologues in American criminal history — a fever dream of disconnected images, half-remembered conversations and delirious ramblings that have never been fully explained:

“A boy has never wept… nor dashed a thousand kim. You can play jacks, and girls do that with a soft ball and do tricks with it. Oh, Oh, dog Biscuit, and when he is happy he doesn’t get snappy.”

Writers and crime historians have been trying to decode Schultz’s final words for nearly 90 years. The novelist William S. Burroughs wrote an entire screenplay based on them. They remain one of the great unsolved mysteries of mob history.

4. John Nardi — “It didn’t hurt”

John Nardi was a union official and associate of the Cleveland crime family who made the fatal mistake of allying himself with the wrong faction in a bloody gang war. He had survived two previous assassination attempts before his luck finally ran out on May 17, 1977.

A remote-controlled bomb had been planted in a car parked next to his vehicle in the parking lot of the Teamsters building in Cleveland. As Nardi approached his car, the bomb detonated. Both his legs were blown off. Bystanders rushed to pull him from the wreckage. As they reached him, Nardi whispered:

“It didn’t hurt”

He died minutes later. Whether those words were true, a final act of bravado, or simply the product of shock, nobody can say.

5. Frank Nitti — “I’m going to take a walk”

Frank Nitti was Al Capone’s feared enforcer — the man who ran the Chicago Outfit while Capone was in prison. By 1943, facing a federal extortion indictment and the prospect of another prison sentence, Nitti — a severe claustrophobic who had found his previous imprisonment unbearable — decided he would not go back.

On the morning of March 19, 1943, as his wife Toni prepared to leave for church, Nitti said to her:

“I’m going to take a walk”

He drank heavily, then walked to a nearby railroad yard with a .32 calibre pistol. The first shot went through his fedora. The second went through his jaw. Still alive, he fired a third bullet behind his right ear. He was found dead among the tracks. He was 57 years old.

6. Mendy Weiss — “I’m innocent”

Louis “Mendy” Weiss was one of the most prolific killers in Murder Incorporated — the Mafia’s dedicated assassination squad. He was implicated in multiple murders through the testimony of fellow Murder Inc member Abe Reles. On March 4, 1944, Weiss was strapped into the electric chair at Sing Sing Prison. His last words were a passionate protest of innocence:

“Can I say something? All I want to say is I’m innocent. I’m here on a framed-up case. And Governor Dewey knows it. I want to thank Judge Lehman. He knows me because I am a Jew. Give my love to my family… and everything.”

Whether Weiss was truly innocent remains disputed. What is not disputed is that he died maintaining his innocence to the last.

7. Lucky Luciano — “Tell Georgie I want to get in the movies”

Lucky Luciano — the man who created the modern American Mafia, established the Commission and built an organised crime empire that reshaped the criminal underworld — died not in a hail of bullets but of a heart attack at Naples International Airport on January 26, 1962.

He had been meeting with American film producer Martin Gosch, who was hoping to make a film about Luciano’s extraordinary life. As they parted at the airport, Luciano turned to Gosch and said:

“Tell Georgie I want to get in the movies one way or another”

Minutes later he collapsed and died. The film was never made during his lifetime, but the line itself — casual, wry, utterly Luciano — became one of the most quoted last words in mob history.

8. Pasquale Barbaro — “Open the fucking door”

Pasquale Barbaro was an Australian mobster connected to the Calabrian ‘Ndrangheta. On March 26, 2008, he was sitting in a silver Mercedes in a Melbourne street when two hooded gunmen approached. Knowing what was coming, Barbaro desperately screamed at the driver:

“Open the fucking door”

The door didn’t open in time. He was shot dead. He was 35 years old. His words — raw, terrified, utterly human — strip away all the glamour that surrounds mob life and reveal the brutal reality beneath it.

9. Baby Face Nelson — “I’m done for”

Baby Face Nelson — real name Lester Gillis — was the most prolific killer of FBI agents in American history, responsible for the deaths of three federal agents. On November 27, 1934, he engaged in a running gun battle with FBI agents on a highway near Barrington, Illinois. Nelson took 17 bullets — more than any other person in FBI history — and survived long enough to escape. His two FBI opponents did not.

Nelson managed to escape the scene in a car driven by his associate John Paul Chase, with his wife Helen Gillis beside him. You can read the full story here. As they drove, bleeding heavily from his 17 wounds, Nelson turned to his wife and said:

“I’m done for”

He died in bed several hours later. He was 25 years old — the youngest man ever to hold the title of Public Enemy Number One.

10. Dean O’Banion — “Hello boys, you from Mike Merlo’s?”

Dean O’Banion ran Chicago’s North Side with bravado and wit, openly mocking his Italian rivals. He operated a flower shop — Schofield’s — directly across from the Holy Name Cathedral as a legitimate front. It was there that he met his end.

On November 10, 1924, three men entered the shop. One of them was Frankie Yale — a Brooklyn mob figure who O’Banion knew. Yale extended his hand in greeting. As O’Banion reached out to shake it, Yale gripped his hand tight and held it — a classic mob handshake trap. O’Banion, clipping chrysanthemums, looked up and said:

“Hello boys, you from Mike Merlo’s?”

With his hand locked in Yale’s grip, the two accompanying gunmen stepped forward and shot O’Banion six times. He was dead before he hit the floor. His murder ignited the Chicago Beer Wars that would eventually bring Al Capone to absolute power.

Bonus: John Dillinger — “I’m going out tonight for a good time”

John Dillinger — Public Enemy Number One, the most celebrated bank robber in American history — was shot dead by FBI agents outside the Biograph Theater in Chicago on July 22, 1934. He had spent the evening watching the gangster film Manhattan Melodrama with his girlfriend Polly Hamilton and the woman who would betray him, Ana Cumpănaș — the “Lady in Red.”

As they left the theatre, Dillinger reportedly said to his companions:

“I’m going out tonight for a good time”

Moments later, FBI agents closed in. Dillinger ran for an alley. Three bullets struck him — one behind his right ear. He was dead before the ambulance arrived. He was 31 years old. Bystanders dipped handkerchiefs in his blood as souvenirs. His last words, spoken in the casual confidence of a man who believed he had escaped once again, remain one of the great ironies in American criminal history.

Bonus: Dominick Napolitano — “Hit me one more time and make it good”

Dominick “Sonny Black” Napolitano was a captain in the Bonanno crime family who made one of the costliest mistakes in mob history — he vouched for undercover FBI agent Joseph Pistone, who had infiltrated the family under the alias Donnie Brasco. When Pistone’s true identity was revealed, Napolitano knew he was a dead man.

On August 17, 1981, Napolitano was summoned to a meeting at a house in Flatlands, Brooklyn. He handed his jewellery and watch to an associate before entering — he knew he wasn’t coming back. He was pushed down a staircase into the basement. The first shot misfired. From the floor, Napolitano looked up and said:

“Hit me one more time and make it good”

The second shot hit its mark. His hands were later cut off and sent as a message to those who had dealt with him. His story was told in the film Donnie Brasco (1997), starring Al Pacino as Napolitano.

Bonus: Rocco Zito — “I will die but you will die first”

Rocco Zito was an 87-year-old Italian-Canadian crime boss connected to the ‘Ndrangheta. In 2018, in what can only be described as a remarkable final act, Zito pulled a semi-automatic pistol on his son-in-law Domenico Scopelliti during a dispute. His son-in-law was faster. Scopelliti shot Zito twice in the chest and once in the armpit. As Zito fell, he reportedly declared:

“I will die but you will die first.”

He was wrong about one thing. He dropped his gun and died. Scopelliti survived.

Frequently Asked Questions

What were the most famous last words in mob history?

The most famous last words in mob history are Dutch Schultz’s delirious hospital ramblings, Frank Gusenberg’s “Nobody shot me” after the St Valentine’s Day Massacre, and Dominick Napolitano’s “Hit me one more time and make it good.” Each captures a different aspect of mob life — Schultz’s chaos, Gusenberg’s code of silence, and Napolitano’s grim acceptance of his fate.

What were John Dillinger’s last words?

John Dillinger’s last words were reportedly “I’m going out tonight for a good time,” spoken as he left the Biograph Theater in Chicago on July 22, 1934. Moments later FBI agents shot him dead in an alley. He was 31 years old.

What were Baby Face Nelson’s last words?

Baby Face Nelson’s last words were “I’m done for,” spoken to his wife Helen Gillis after escaping a gun battle near Barrington, Illinois on November 27, 1934 — despite having been shot 17 times. He died in bed several hours later, aged 25.

Did Dutch Schultz really say those things on his deathbed?

Yes. A Newark police stenographer sat beside Schultz’s hospital bed for the full 22 hours he lingered after being shot, recording everything he said. The transcript is a matter of public record and has been studied by historians, writers and criminologists ever since. The words are genuine — their meaning remains a mystery.

What is omertà and why did Frank Gusenberg follow it even while dying?

Omertà is the Mafia’s sacred code of silence — the vow never to cooperate with law enforcement, on pain of death. For Gusenberg, even dying from 14 gunshot wounds, breaking omertà was unthinkable. It wasn’t just fear of reprisal — it was a deeply ingrained cultural code. Identifying his killers would have been a betrayal of everything he stood for.

Who killed Dean O’Banion?

Dean O’Banion was killed by Frankie Yale, John Scalise and Albert Anselmi — sent by a combination of Johnny Torrio, the Genna brothers and the South Side organisation that would become Al Capone’s empire. Yale performed the handshake trap that immobilised O’Banion while the other two shot him.