Harvey Guillén

They are women who work for Gennaro's nightclubs, you know, where there's a lot of dancing and not a lot of clothes.

And they might be people who have never eaten a Big Mac in their lives.

Jerry stays in the shadows.

He keeps working at Simon Marketing, inspecting the factories.

He keeps signing the safety protocols.

But on the weekends, he meets Gennaro in random parking lots.

He hands over stacks of stickers worth millions, and Gennaro hands him a duffel bag filled with non-sequential bills.

There is a problem with conspiracies.

They are radioactive.

You can contain a secret between two people, maybe three, but the moment you start adding people, the half-life decays.

The radiation leaks.

By 1996, Uncle Jerry's operation has sprawled out of control.

It isn't just Jerry and Gennaro anymore.

They have recruited a web of middlemen to find winners.

There's Andrew Glom, an ex-convict and drug trafficker from Florida.

There's a psychic in South Carolina.

There are strip club owners.

There are distant cousins.

There are Mormons.

Mormons!