Ford has two ways of communicating as he drives — his cellular phone and his Onstar device, a General Motors product that acts as a cellphone. During one call as he drives that night, Ford is recorded as saying the following about Jews, blacks and Italians:
“Nobody sticks up for people like I do, every fucking kike, nigger, fucking wop, dago, whatever the race. Nobody does. I’m the most racist guy around. I’m the mayor of Toronto.”
On a roll, Ford continues to spew invective that may be the worst published yet. At one point he makes a rude comment about his mother.
...
Ford eventually pulls into a park near his home in Etobicoke, according to an account of the evening. Lisi arrives, driving his black Range Rover. (Lisi is facing drug trafficking and extortion charges in connection with an alleged attempt to retrieve the embarrassing crack video. No accomplice has been charged. The Star reported recently that at another late-night event, Ford pummelled Lisi, his friend, until Lisi cried.)
According to an account of the evening, drugs are present as the men meet in the park. An hour passes. Ford and Bellissimo drive to Ford’s home, with Lisi in tow driving his Range Rover. From here on, there is no known audio recording of the night.
The front walkway to the Ford house leads to a modest front door. At about 10 p.m. that night, Ford and his pals arrive. Ford has a bag of McDonald’s food in his hand. Ford jiggles the front door and then kicks the door open. He, Lisi, Bellissimo and another man step in.
“Don’t worry guys, my kids aren’t here,” Ford says.
For no apparent reason, Ford turns on Bellissimo and hits him squarely in the face twice — boom, boom — forgetting that he has a bagful of Big Macs in his hand. Burgers and fries scatter. Ford makes Bellissimo pick them up.
Down the stairs they go. Ford’s wife Renata is on the couch, a tired lounger that has been described to the Star by paramedics and firefighters who have attended calls at the house over the past two years. Renata is smoking a joint.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Renata says.
Enraged, Ford rummages for his Don Bosco coaching jacket. “It’s where I keep my weed,” he tells people in the room. Ford turns on his wife, screaming that she has taken his drugs. Standing there quietly are Lisi and Bellissimo.
To a visitor, Ford says, almost offhanded, “You can fuck her if you want, in front of me.”
Nobody speaks. The comment is ignored by Ford’s wife. Men in the room are shocked.
“It’s okay,” Ford burbles. “She lets me fuck girls in front of her all the time.”
Eyes flicked upward, to the rest of the house.
“It’s okay, my kids are not home,” Ford repeats.
For the next two hours Ford never stops moving. He paces the dingy room, back and forth. Lisi says little, checking his phone from time to time.
Ford drinks and smokes a joint. He speaks Jamaican patois, reminiscent of his turn at the Steak Queen restaurant in January, another night when he was out in north Etobicoke with Lisi.
Still popping back and forth, Ford invites people to punch him. “I’m jacked,” Ford tells the men as he flexes his muscles.
