WEBSITE ROUSES INFORMANTS' FEAR, INVESTIGATORS' IRE

When a team of police, federal agents, and a drug-sniffing dog burst
through the front door and scoured every corner of the house, the
woman and her boyfriend figured they knew who had turned them in. So
she struck back: In the shadowy realms of cyberspace, she publicly
identified the informant who she suspected had ratted on her
boyfriend, landing him in court on drug possession charges. On a
website launched seven months ago from the North Shore, the woman
posted a note saying her alleged informant, a 27-year-old man from the
Tewksbury area, was a "narc" who made a practice of snitching on
others to minimize his own legal problems.

"In this day and age, you can't be a rat and not have people know,"
said the woman in an interview, speaking on the condition that her
name not be used. "I think it kind of opens up people's eyes in town
to people who are doing shady deals."

The website, which was launched by Sean Bucci, who is battling his own
marijuana charges, has quickly become the largest online database of
its kind. It currently holds more than 800 profiles of alleged
informants, and new additions appear frequently, posted by people who
want to take revenge on federal agents, former friends-turned-snitches,
and others who they believe have informed on them to law enforcement
agencies.

Law enforcement officials worry that the site will impede their
ability to use undercover agents and informants, who often provide
information critical to criminal cases, especially those involving
drugs. And they worry that criminals might use the site to find out
the names of informants, which could imperil the people whose
information is posted there.

The Globe is not naming the website because it is impossible to verify
whether all the people listed there are informants, and because
publicizing access to their identities could jeopardize their safety.

In Boston, a paid informant for the FBI has been living on the run,
afraid for his life, since his profile appeared on the website about
seven months ago. The informant had been working undercover on a case
when he got an ominous phone call from one of the men he was
investigating. "I'm looking at your information on the website," the
suspect told him, recalled the informant, who spoke on condition that
his name not be used. "You're an informant."

The FBI informant said he immediately hung up the phone, fear coursing
through his body, and fled his apartment. "I ran as fast as I could,"
he said. Now, he never carries identification, worried that someone
might learn his true name. He has not worked for the FBI since his
cover was blown, but hopes he can soon return. In the meantime, he
said, he spends his days walking around Boston. Since it debuted last
August, the website has grown popular, both among people who want to
unburden their anger at those they believe have wronged them and
others who peruse the profiles of alleged informants. The site has
about 7,000 registered members and has received an estimated 1.5
million hits, said Anthony Capone, a spokesman for the site who said
his day job is in marketing. But not all the profiles posted on the
website are real. The woman who publicly identified the Tewksbury man
said that she had knowingly posted false information about people she
did not believe to be informants. "You're going to find a mixture of
truth and fiction because pretty much anyone can go on and post," she
said.

The site's home page includes a disclaimer, which notes that
information posted "may not be 100 percent accurate and should be
used for information/entertainment purposes only." It also states that
the website's administrators do not condone violence against alleged
informants.

Capone said that websites such as his are protected by law. He cited
the website of Leon Carmichael Sr., a Montgomery, Ala., businessman
charged with drug conspiracy and money laundering. Carmichael had
posted the pictures and names of government agents and informants who
were scheduled to testify at his trial, and asked for information
about them. Last year, a federal judge in Alabama ruled that
Carmichael's website was protected by the First Amendment right to
free speech.

Capone said the administrators of the North Shore website use a
computer server in India, to ensure further protection.

The website contains information about suspected agents and informants
across the country and overseas. The lists suggest that informants
come from all walks of life: the Massachusetts files include a plumber
from Worcester, a 17-year-old swimmer from Belmont, a tanning salon
owner from Peabody, and a stripper from Revere.

The Department of Homeland Security has warned its employees to stay
away from the site, since even visiting it could provide website
administrators information about government computer networks.

The department has issued an advisory, warning that "danger exists
for exploitation by criminal and/or terrorist entities." Law
enforcement officials in Oklahoma have also issued a warning that the
website could jeopardize the work of undercover agents and informants.
The site does not contain the profiles of notorious informants such as
Salvatore "Sammy The Bull" Gravano, who turned state's evidence
against Mob boss John Gotti.

Many of the alleged informants on the North Shore site have been
posted on the site by people who got in trouble with the law for
buying or selling drugs, or by their own relatives.

"We specifically ask people not to add any information that's related
to violent crimes, because we don't agree with violent crimes," Capone
said. "But as far as drug problems, and people setting people up just
to get out of their own problems, that's a no-no in our books."

The woman who posted information about the Tewksbury man said she
believes the website performs a service by warning others away from
informants. "This punk has bragged on several occasions about doing a
controlled buy to bust a known local dealer so he could get a lesser
sentence for getting caught with shrooms, ecstasy, steroids, and funny
money," she posted on the site about the man she believes had informed
on her now ex-boyfriend to the police. "He has admitted to being a
snitch to various people." Jeannie Stokowski-Bisanti's husband, former
Springfield chiropractor John Bisanti, was sentenced last year to 41
months in federal prison for income tax evasion. After she saw a
magazine ad for the North Shore site, she posted information about a
car dealer and a tax attorney she believes cooperated with federal
authorities, who then, in her opinion, wrongly brought charges against
her husband. "We put it on there, kind of just in a little way, to
make a difference," said Bisanti, a flight attendant. "Honestly, I'm
angry that this injustice took place and nothing will be done about
it."

Another local poster turned to cyberspace after her brother was
arrested and charged with helping plan a bank robbery. One of his
friends, she argues, exaggerated her brother's role in the plot in his
testimony to the police to bargain down his own sentence.

"I think people should know, he's not a man of his word," she said.
So she posted his name on the website, promising to add affidavits
from the case. "This kid can be out of jail, but he'll never have a
life," she said. "He's known within the whole entire city as a black
sheep."