The Bootlegger with a Bulletproof Smile.
South Side Chicago’s crowned king. Ran booze during Prohibition, bought half the cops, and ruled with a bloody ledger. To the poor, he was Robin Hood. To rivals, a nightmare in pinstripes.
He loved family, hated rats, and believed power should be seen. But taxes — of all things — brought him down. Not bullets. Not betrayals. A damn IRS form.
Died in his mansion, eaten away by disease and regret.
Verdict: Not SphstRDnck. Style and toughness, sure — but the pride went sour. Too much flash, not enough discipline.