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What makes the story more than just another tabloid sensation is the extraordinary boom in cosmetic procedures going on across the country.
The reporter was on the ground in Central America five days before American investigators.That night, with no sign of her, her uncle Jose Navarro went to the N. It was thrown atop a large pile of similar reports.More than 18,400 people had been reported missing in New York City in the first five months of 2003; most turned out to be runaways. Finally a pair of New York City detectives discovered that Maria had been undergoing treatment for an unsightly mouth condition called “black tongue.” The Friday before her disappearance, she had canceled an appointment with a Manhattan laser specialist who was treating her. Not for several months, until that December, did an investigator speak with Faiello’s longtime companion, a 43-year-old Manhattan designer named Greg Bach.If you don’t, you could end up in the shaky hands of a man like Dean Faiello.On the surface, and that was where he always looked best, Faiello was everything you might want if you needed a tattoo removed, or unwant-ed hair above your lip.Yet few know much about the people who perform these procedures.
The Faiello case highlights what many in the profession regard as lax regulations on exactly who can do what; even the comparatively minor procedures that were Faiello’s specialty—removing body hair and tattoos—can be dangerous when performed by untrained hands.
An arrest warrant was issued, but Dean Faiello was gone.
When it broke that day in February, the news of Maria Cruz’s death was classic tabloid fodder.
With little hope police would find her, Maria’s family began distributing flyers and phoning reporters; both the ran stories. Her sisters and brother wrote heartbreaking letters about Maria and posted them on the Internet, hoping they might jog someone’s memory. When detectives discovered a credit-card purchase at Loehmann’s department store dated the Sunday she vanished, they noticed the store was a block from the specialist’s office. A check on the laser specialist, whose name was Dean Faiello, uncovered that he had a criminal record—a 1998 conviction for possessing forged prescriptions, and, more recently, a second, for practicing medicine without a license. Bach, it turned out, was a very angry man; Faiello had vanished, owing him about $85,000.
When told Faiello was being sought for questioning in the disappearance of one of his patients, Bach remembered that someone had told him the previous spring of a conversation with a panicky Faiello.
Suffice it to say, of his many vices, lying was probably the thing Faiello did best. Also, he said he had a civil-engineering degree, though, in fact, he had never graduated from college.