Who is the Polish hacker loaned by the Licciardis to the Mazzarellas?

All you need is an armchair, a computer, and an internet connection. No balaclavas, no guns drawn in bank branches. The new frontier of Neapolitan organized crime operates behind the silence of servers and the distraction of its victims. It's a clean, fast-paced business, and, above all, one with a much lower criminal risk than traditional drug trafficking or extortion.

This is the scenario revealed by the recent operation by the Carabinieri and the Naples Anti-Mafia Directorate, which led to the issuance of 16 precautionary measures (including 12 arrests), eliminating two criminal groups linked to the top figures of the Mazzarella clan: Ciro and Michele Mazzarella. But the clan's real goldmine wasn't a soldier, but a 25-year-old from Pomigliano d'Arco who drove a Mustang, nicknamed "Polish" (real name Salvatore Mentone Del Sole Jr.). A cyber fraud genius, he was capable of stealing between €200,000 and €300,000 in a single day.

Over a two-year period (2022-2024), the gang claimed around sixty victims across Italy, striking as far away as Spain. A system so profitable that even bitter rivals the Licciardi clan took advantage of it during a period of "mafia peace," proving that in the face of massive technological profit, old feuds can wait.

From the Cardone Estate to the Mazzarellas: The Acquisition of the "Polacco"

The talent of the "Polish" was well-known in criminal circles. Initially, the young hacker operated on behalf of others, with ties to members at odds with the Mazzarellas (such as the Masseria Cardone group and a certain "Salvatore o' Biondo"). But an asset worth hundreds of thousands of euros a day couldn't escape the attention of Forcella's top brass.

The acquisition of his "services" by the Mazzarellas didn't happen through a normal commercial negotiation, but through classic Camorra methods. Salvatore Giuliano, a collaborator with justice, recounts:

"The Pole, along with other individuals, was earning a lot of money, and we needed to call him [...] We wanted the Pole who had joined forces with Salvatore or Blondino, to whom he gave monthly sums for protection. We arranged the meeting in Vico Scassacocchi... The meeting concluded with the agreement that the Pole and the Forcella man had to pay the clan 20.000-30.000 euros per job."

But "Salvatore o' Biondi" isn't having it, and sends word that the hacker is already paying. The dispute is resolved immediately and brutally. No legal warnings, just bullets: a member of the Mazzarella family, Totore 'e Pomigliano, goes and shoots directly outside the home of "Polacco's" mother.

The message comes through loud and clear. A summit follows at Michele Mazzarella's house to ratify the surrender and seal the transfer of ownership of the hacker. From that moment on, the "Polish" is theirs.

“Working 24/24”: The technological gap and wiretapping

The incursion of cybercrime into a historic clan also creates generational and cultural paradoxes, well documented by investigators' bugs.
It is midnight on February 26, 2022.

At the home of clan leader Ciro Mazzarella, the new, thriving business is being discussed. Ciro, restricted in his movements by probation, struggles to understand the intangible mechanics of the scam. He believes the money comes from physical theft, that his men are physically stealing credit cards at post offices, exposing themselves to enormous risks.

His brother, Alberto Mazzarella, explains that the world has changed and that his cousin Michele holds the future in his hands. Michele quickly earned 50 euros and, more importantly, he has put the Pomigliano boy's IT talent to good use:

“…the Polish guy… if he sent for him, you have to work with me twenty-four hours a day with the papers…”

Alberto clarifies to the boss that it's not physical thefts, but sophisticated technological operations. The clan is modernizing: money is no longer extorted on the street, but stolen from servers.

Spoofing, "Toxics," and Flash Accounts: The Modus Operandi

How did the money-eating machine work? The order and the words of informer Rosario La Monica (an operative in the Brusciano criminal group, known as "Cafoni") paint a picture of a criminal network organized like a ruthless technology company.

The starting point was the purchase of sensitive data (“Polacco and [omissis] purchased a list from individuals who worked at the Bank containing telephone numbers, account numbers, and the amount in the account”).

At that point, spoofing began: actual telephone exchanges, with operators capable of simulating various regional accents, called the victims, displaying their real bank number. Convinced of the call's authenticity, the victim handed over their one-time password (OTP). The money was instantly transferred. But where to?

This is where high technology meets the desperation of the streets. Criminals needed disposable bank accounts to transfer stolen money.

“We hired drug addicts and used them to open bank accounts, with their help, since they participated in the facial recognition procedures,” La Monica says.

The race against time began immediately after the bank transfer

“We then had two hours to unload the money… we physically took the drug addicts and the conniving individuals who agreed to have the accounts registered directly to the post office or to withdraw them and forced them to withdraw as much as possible. With the remainder we did the so-called 'unloading' to [omissis] who swiped the card on his POS and gave us cash, keeping 15%”.

The proceeds were then laundered—with the help of a funeral director from Avellino—in luxury cars and Rolexes. The use of untraceable routers on disposable SIM cards completed the gang's invisibility.

The ruthless law of the clan: the case of the beaten drug addict

Although the crime had become a white-collar crime, the rules of engagement remained the ruthless ones of the Camorra. When the wheels jammed or someone tried to be sneaky, violence returned to the forefront.

If a drug addict recruited as a front decided to steal the money from their account, the reaction was lethal. Monica recalls the episode of "...omissis...", a drug addict who purchased drugs in Brusciano and had €10-15 blocked from his account (or had it stolen).

"It was his fault, and the money had to be repaid to the Mazzarellas... we took ...omissis... to the Luzzatti district... to be beaten. He extorted him, meaning he told him, 'Bring me a hundred thousand euros after three hours.'"

Blind violence to guarantee a perfect system. The investigation by the Naples DDA thus tears the veil on a hybrid Camorra, capable of investing in cyber intelligence while never renouncing terror to maintain control. A clear warning to institutions: the mafia isn't just on the streets, it's sitting, invisible, at our bank terminals.