Wise Guys Michael Dees, Frank DiSalvo, Tony Pomponio

Rupert Keegan

Trailers for Original Movies

AIR spec video from Noah Smith on Vimeo.

Movie Concepts

Studio 55 Open

Movie Short Trailers

Wise Guys Cologne

Dark Elevator Intro Storyboard Trailer

Unconfortable afraid of heights, and confined spaces, an elevator may not be the best place for you to be. An elevator can conceal shattering secrets that explore the depths of the mind and repressed secrets. Open the door, press a button and prepare to travel into the past present and future. Enter the Dark Elevator at your own risk.

Ransom Hunter Storyboard Trailer based on True Events

A former SAS operative forms a company in Amsterdam that recovers ransoms corporations have paid kidnappers. Mylott Sorbo travels from South America, Eastern Europe, Russia, tracking down dangerous criminals.

The Vintage Store Storyboard Pilot

Enter a time travel series as shoppers visit the towns second hand thrift store.

The Dark Elevator Storyboard Pilot

Unconfortable afraid of heights, and confined spaces, an elevator may not be the best place for you to be. An elevator can conceal shattering secrets that explore the depths of the mind and repressed secrets. Open the door, press a button and prepare to travel into the past present and future. Enter the Dark Elevator at your own risk.

"Zany Wise Guys CookUp Laughs"

Sizzle Fix presents

Sizzle Stringer Trailer

Wise Guys Cooking short Cologne Clip

NBCSizzle

"Just Rocky and Me," Trailer/Story

My name is Basko. I'm a German Shepherd and I'm eight weeks old. I was born in Montana. My father had a crazy German name like “Herman von Schtupen,” and weighed more than 140 pounds. My mom was "Hilda von Worshsteiner” or something like that." She was a shapely Eighty-five pounds. I wondered why they didn't share their last name, but I guessed they were just living together. I was lucky, my breeder owned a world famous German Shepherd Breeding Ranch.  They posted my picture on the internet alongside several other Shepherd breeders. Hundreds would visit their web site each day.

I was born with a black coat. I would soon turn into a combination of black and auburn, with a thick fur coat. I was destined to be a handsome devil. A college kid saw my picture, paid cash for me and I was booked on a flight to Long Beach, California. My breeders scooted me into a small traveling crate, and wished me a good trip. I was off to Long Beach, by way of Seattle. But there were complications. When the Alaska Airlines flight landed in Seattle, I was escorted out of the baggage compartment onto a luggage carrier and wound up, forgotten, in the cargo storage area. It seemed like an eternity; I had to go potty and no one to turn to. My bark sounded like a whimper. Next thing you know, a flight attendant approached my crate and gave me the bad news, I missed my flight. Hey, I'm just a puppy, what the heck do I know? She looked at my tag, “Basko I'm in charge of getting you on the next flight to Long Beach. Your new owner’s been waiting for hours. He's not a happy camper.”

This is where my "tale" begins, Pardon the pun.Next thing I know, I’m on a baggage carrier speeding out of the storage area. I saw an Eskimo. Just Rocco and Me smiling from the tail of another Alaska jet. The baggage handler picked up my crate, walked up the rear gangplank and handed me off to a flight attendant. “You’re so cute, I bet you would like a snack.” Snack? It had been more than 8 hours since I went potty, she did not understand my puppy bark, so I sucked it up and fell asleep. Finally, two hours later I felt a jolt, we’ve landed. Hurray! About time they got it right. The flight attendant removed her seatbelt, “Hi little fella, did you have a good flight?” Yea lady, Great flight! I arrived in Long Beach. Now get me to my owner, please.

Another baggage handler picked up my crate, moved down the gangplank and shuttled me onto a dolly, now I’m headed to Long Beach Airport baggage claim. Seconds later, I spotted my new owner, man who was excited to see me. “Basko, you finally made it! You missed your flight in Seattle; we’ve been waiting 3 hours for you, you’re safe now.” OK let’s stop with the hello Basko crap, I need to take a leak, get me out of here. Rocco was in it, before we got to the car, he opened my crate outside the storage area, he found a patch of grass, and 11 hours of anxiety disappeared.After a short drive we arrived at my new home, with my new dad Rocco. I’ll be chasing squirrels, running after rabbits, and having a ball!

We lived on a golf course, surrounded by horse trails, a huge yard, and lots of room to run. I wasn’t too crazy about the pool, and I knew Rocco would either throw me in, or somehow get me to show my swimming skills. We had fun growing up. Rocco would take me to the dog park. I ran around like some crazy animal looking for someone to play with. My days of chasing squirrels came to an end when I decided that, what I thought, was a rabbit turned out to be a skunk. Chasing a skunk then cornering him, turned out to be a very smelly proposition. Rocco spent hours bathing me in tomato juice trying to get that patented smell out my coat. I smelled like a rotten tomato. Since we lived on a golf course surrounded by horse trails, Rocco would take off my leash and let me run. That did not last long after I chased a rather portly woman riding her horse bareback. I quietly crept up on the horse, next thing I know, the horse bucks and the fat lady winds up on the trail flat on her back. She had no idea what happened, and I got away without a trace.As I grew older, I thought it would be funny if I harassed golfers during their back swing. I did my slow crawl then barked as loud as I could, and watched them curse as the ball sliced out of bounds. I ran as fast as I could back home and acted like nothing happened. I knew I had special talents! Rocco and I visited the beach one sunny afternoon. We were strolling down the boardwalk.

Rocco had me on a short leash. We heard someone screaming for help. It turns out a gang of young thugs were harassing a very cute young lady. She was not amused. Bullies I thought! One of the teens pushed the girl, that was enough! I ran toward the young thug, jumped on his chest and pushed him aside. Then I turned to the other four teenagers and charged their legs, pulling on their pants, barking like a ferocious mad dog. They ran faster than the squirrels I chased in our backyard. Rocco was amazed. I didn’t need prompting. Rocco must have thought he had an out of control dog on his hands. Leaping fences, chasing golfers down fairways, I was getting my kicks. Rocco always watched programs about dogs, especially German Shepherds. One program that really got his attention was “War Dogs.” How they were used in battles since the Civil War. One day I caught Rocco on the phone with a Marine Corps recruiter. Rocco was graduating from college, and wanted to serve his country. I had no idea he was inquiring about the“buddy” system. Not for a close friend, but for me to become a “War Dog” and we would enlist together.Within weeks Rocco was in boot camp and I was on my way to the War Dog Training Center in Virginia.

My trainer was a very cute Marine Corps Lance Corporal. She did not take any BS from me or put up with any of my crazy habits. Her name was Lacy. Lance Corporal Lacy. Lacy and I had some great conversations while she guided me through “obstacle courses” on the base. She made it clear that since I enrolled in the “buddy” program, as soon as Rocco finished boot camp, he would join me here in Virginia. I’m a tough dog now, I learned how to stare down the enemy, corner him and literally scare the crap out of insurgents and disarm them to the point where they surrendered. After taps Lacy would tuck me into my 4 by 6 foot crate. Some nights she would sneak into my crate and lay her head on my body to keep warm. We grew very close. Rocco showed up after boot camp, Lance Corporal Lacy and he hit it off right from the “get go.” Romance was in the air.

Rocco and Lacy both teamed up to teach me how to defend myself. Next thing I know, both are sharing my crate, and the three of us are snuggling under the moonlight. Within months Rocco and I were deployed to Iraq. Lacy would say her goodbye. I knew she would miss both of us, especially Rocco. Three other Shepherds and their handlers were on the same plane. We landed at Bagram Airport in Iraq, 14 hours later and hurried to our barracks. Rocco insisted that I bunk with him, after all we did enlist in the buddy program. I slept under his bunk. In the morning we would get new hi tech flak jackets, an M40 Rifle, and body armor. The morning alarm sounded, we joined the other Marine dog handlers, and JB, Max, and Luna, three other shepherds that were assigned to our platoon. Our orders were to act as scouts in lead humvees. We would travel slowly down the main road leading to the militant-held city of Tikrit. Rocco and I together with my new found Shepherd “War Dog” buddies were assigned to keep the roads clear of mines and look for the bad guys that planted those bombs. Rocco and the other “War Dog” handlers were traveling slowly about 100 yards ahead of our first convoy.

An Army drone flew high above us spotting unusual activity. Rocco’s radio contact warned that we were about to make contact with the enemy. One militant had dug a hole alongside the road, a radio controlled bomb would be activated by a cell phone signal and would be timed to blow up when the two front trucks carrying our platoon would cross the spot where the explosive was planted. Rocco and the other three handlers gave us the signal to approach the bomb area and stand firm for our bomb squad to approach and dismantle the bomb. Information from our drone in the sky revealed that 4 militants were hiding in a makeshift foxhole waiting to set off what would be a devastating explosion. JB, Max, Luna and I followed the scent to the militants' hiding place. We snuck up on the fox hole undetected, and surrounded the enemy. We put on a show. Running circles around their hiding place, barking, avoiding getting shot at, then Rocco and the other handlers signaled us to release. We raced back to our humvee, four Blackhawk choppers swooped in and you would have thought it was theFourth of July. Machine gun fire and rockets were right on target. Four dead militants. Our job was done for the day. That night Rocco and I joined the other three shepherd handlers and their dogs. We celebrated the success of our first assignment. A few weeks passed before we were called back into action.

Our next assignment almost brought us to the brink of death. Rocco was rousted out of his bunk and immediately ordered to the briefing room at 3a.m.. Four dogs, four handlers, and we’re ordered to lead a patrol that would enter the outskirts of Tikrit to rescue 10 Marines that were pinned down by insurgents. Our job was to “seek out the enemy.” Chase them out into the open so our snipers could pick them off one by one. We arrived quickly. Luna and Max sniffed out a group of 5 enemy combatants. Max crawled within 20 feet from the insurgents hiding place. JB and I searched out the shooters that had our Marines pinned down. We got a “go” signal and silently snuck up on the 5 militants, Luna attacked and the enemy scattered. One of the militants waved a sword and struck Luna. She was cut in the left hind Leg. While she was bleeding, the militant stood above her ready to pull the trigger.

JB and Max attacked him, Luna escaped death and the shooter was taken prisoner. JB, Max and I stood guard over Lun., She was bleeding all over the place. Bullets were flying everywhere. That day 10 Marines were rescued, thanks to JB, Max and Luna’s bravery. The medics carried Luna out of harm’s way. Soon after that mission Max would be reassigned to a new platoon. They treated Luna’s wounds, unfortunately she lost her left hind leg. Her handler was devastated. He was soon discharged. Luna later received a commendation for bravery. After a short rehabilitation period she was decommissioned and sent back to the States where her handler immediately adopted her. JB and I were involved in other assignments that helped save numerous lives. On one mission, JB, his handler, Rocco and I led a patrol of 20 men, through heavy enemy machine gun fire. When the militants recognized JB and I, they started advancing. JB got the signal to attack from the left side and I would charge from the right, the enemy tried to run, but were caught in crossfire by our platoon. We all made it back safely. It was a close call. Rocco and I didn’t have to wait long for our next assignment.

Next morning our squad traveled two hours down a dirt road near Tikrit. The enemy was dug into a hillside bunker. Our patrol stopped about 200 yards from our intended target. We took cover and waited for the enemy to show their face. Rocco’s instructions were to send JB and I up the hill to draw fire. We did our job, there was a ferocious firefight. JB and I were eyeball to eyeball staring down the enemy. The insurgents threw everything at us, and we prevailed. During the fight JB received shrapnel wounds. He was a trooper, he showed no outward signs of pain, but on our way back to the base, a medic detected blood dripping from under JB’s body. It was a sad day. Soon after that mission, JB died from his wounds. Our time in the Marine Corps was coming to an end. Rocco and I were considered “short timers.” On our last patrol we were assigned to clear out a strategic road for our supply lines. Rocco and I led our squad down a well traveled road to one of the towns outside Baghdad. I picked up the scent of ten enemy combatants. They were hiding behind a bombed out building. The structure was about 100 yards from our advancing platoon. I signaled Rocco that the enemy was close by freezing and pointing to the spot where they lay waiting. Our patrol quietly advanced on the target. Next thing I know RPG’s and machine gun tracers lit up the night sky. Our guys unloaded on the enemy and after the dust settled we captured or killed more than 20 insurgents. Rocco and I started to pack up. We were nearing our final days of our three year stint in Iraq. We were ready to go home. The night before we boarded a plane out of Iraq, Rocco and I reminisced about our pals Luna, Max and JB. They were very brave and we would miss them.

Rocco kept a diary of all of our escapades, our missions, and near death experiences. He studied Journalism in college and sent a weekly column to our hometown paper. “Basko The War Dog.” We received fan mail during our deployment, praising our war efforts. We were famous. The trip back to Ft. Lee Virginia seemed like an eternity. It was a given that when we got back to the states Lacy would be waiting for us with open arms. We reported back to Infantry Scout Dog Platoon Training in Virginia and Rocco filled out his discharge papers and headed home. He received several commendations. I was considered a true “War Dog” Hero. Our picture would be hanging in the Ft. Lee Mess Hall for all to see. I was not released until I learned how to become a “civilian” again. After four months of daily drills, riding in cars, mingling with people and learning that I was no longer trying to kill bad guys, I was rehabilitated and ready for the life of a regular dog. Lacy followed Rocco to California.

It was late November when I arrived; they both met me at the Los Alamitos Naval Air Station, in Seal Beach California. Since we were now celebrities, and Rocco was the newspaper's “columnist of the year,” we were asked to be the Grand Marshals of the annual Christmas Parade. Rocco, Lacy and I sat on top of a huge float dressed in our combat gear and waved to the thousands lining the parade route. The crowd loved us. The parade was one of the highlights of my life. The days turned into months, the months into years, before you knew it I was nine years old. Lacy and I were inseparable. It was a sunny day, Rocco and I were playing “tug of war” in our backyard with a huge rubber toy. Rocco mentioned that I was getting grey hair around my mouth. He noticed that I was walking and running a little slower. Gone were the days when I chased golfers, skunks and attacked bullies after playing with Rocco in our backyard, I lost my balance and slumped over, and laid there looking up at Rocco. I knew that my days with my best friend were suddenly coming to an end. Tears were streaming down Rocco’s face.. The great times we spent together flashed before our eyes. Rocco hugged me tight. It was time to go. I will never forget my best friend Rocco! Just Rocco and Me My name is Basko. I’m a German Shepherd and I’m eight weeks old. I was born in Montana. My father had a crazy German name like “Herman von Schtupen,” and weighed more than 140 pounds. My mom was “Hilda von Worshsteiner” or something like that.” She was a shapely Eighty-five pounds. I wondered why they didn’t share their last name, but I guessed they were just living together. I was lucky, my breeder owned a world famous German Shepherd Breeding Ranch. They posted my picture on the internet alongside several other Shepherd breeders. Hundreds would visit their web site each day. I was born with a black coat. I would soon turn into a combination of black and auburn, with a thick fur coat. I was destined to be a handsome devil. A college kid saw my picture, paid cash for me and I was booked on a flight to Long Beach, California. My breeders scooted me into a small traveling crate, and wished me a good trip. I was off to Long Beach, by way of Seattle. But there were complications. When the Alaska airlines flight landed in Seattle, I was escorted out of the baggage compartment onto a luggage carrier and wound up, forgotten, in the cargo storage area. It seemed like an eternity; I had to go potty and no one to turn to. My bark sounded like a whimper. Next thing you know, a flight attendant approached my crate and gave me the bad news, I missed my flight. Hey, I’m just a puppy, what the heck do I know? She looked at my tag, “Basko I’m in charge of getting you on the next flight to Long Beach. Your new owner’s been waiting for hours. He’s not a happy camper.” This is where my “tale” begins, Pardon the pun. Next thing I know, I’m on a baggage carrier speeding out of the storage area. I saw an Eskimo Page 2 of 9 Just Rocco and Me smiling from the tail of another Alaska jet. The baggage handler picked up my crate, walked up the rear gangplank and handed me off to a flight attendant. “You’re so cute, bet you would like a snack.” Snack?

Wise Guys Cooking Associate Producers-Friends

New TV Shows in Development.

AIR spec video from Noah Smith on Vimeo.

MikesMunchies.com: Vacation Time In Italy!

Screenplays and Shows in Development.

Stringer/Bond

Stringer 

         TV series          

Creator Mike Colonna

714-747-5670

GENRE: Action-Drama

LOGLINE: Nick Stringer, an ex-SAS Agent turned Formula One race car owner, dodges a ruthless drug cartel, and eludes a Scotland Yard “sting” while smuggling cocaine in the tires of his race cars.

SUMMARY: “It was pure, unadulterated bullshit!”  Getting caught, smuggling cocaine in the tires of Formula One cars. Nick Stringer, a charmer, and ex-SAS covert operator, stumbles onto the dark side. Stringer was a decorated soldier in the first gulf war.  He and two other coalition special operatives hid under the Saudi Desert sending real time information to the Florida war room. The Desert Storm “rats” caught the Iraqi Army sneaking out of Kuwait.  Air and land forces finished them off. The “Highway of Death”, made world headlines.

After the war, Stringer continued his passion for formula one racing. .  He became a hero after rescuing his pal, Ricardo Baltoni, from sure death, during the Long Beach Grand Prix. Stringer and Brigitta, his soul mate, lived the dream his yacht Arrows in Monaco Harbor.

Needing money, he smuggled cocaine from Bolivia in his race cars.  A handsome ladies man, Stringer knew all the right people. Drug profits were not enough to keep his Arrow’s team afloat. Stringer moonlighted as a high paid mercenary for MI-5, the CIA, and the Mossad. He killed insurgents in South Africa, escorted Gitmo detainees to “Black Sites,” he broke up a suicide bomb factory New York City, and blew up a shipment of uranium headed from France to Iran.

After months of surveillance Scotland Yard had Stringer by the short hairs. They tracked him from his yacht in Monaco to his flat in London. Customs documented his bank withdrawals and deposits. He was charged with selling and distributing cocaine to London’s elite.

He escaped during a botched Scotland Yard sting. Customs wanted him in prison the cartel wanted him dead. After a daring high speed chase, Stringer made it out alive. The Secret Service and Bolivians eventually cornered him New York. Like Houdini, he disappeared to live another day.

Stringer Episode 1 Trailer

Wise Guys Trailer

St. Tony's Summary

St. Tonys

Creator Mike Colonna

714-747-5670

GENRE: SCI-FI/ADVENTURE

LOGLINE: A Jesuit priest assigns his autistic students to use computer science during Christmas for a trip back in time for the birth of Jesus.

SUMMARY: Father Hanson, a computer genius, works with his autistic students in a secret laboratory at St. Anthony High School in Wisconsin. Father Hanson discovers a way to go back to the time of Christ. He teaches these special students how time travel works. Break-trough hypotheses and formula’s turn back the clock thousands of years.

Three students volunteer to travel back to the birth of Jesus. Father Hanson creates an elaborate invention called the “Boomerang.” It’s designed to transport the volunteers back to the past within seconds.  In Israel they meet young ancient’s.  The ancient’s hide the volunteers from Roman patrols searching for a baby named Jesus.

The ancient’s lead Hanson’s students to a stable where they see three men dressed like kings. They see Mary and Joseph huddled over a baby in a manger.  A bright star streams a light down on the stable. The two teens are in awe. Their friend has been taken by a Roman patrol. The ancient’s observe the arrest. Time is running out. One of the ancient’s distracts the two Roman guards, the St. Anthony student escapes into a side alley. An ancient then leads him to the stable where his two friends are waiting. Now reunited, Father Hanson types in the correct codes that return the travelers back to the present.
Christmas will never be the same.

Stringer Summary

Stringer 

         TV series          

Creator Mike Colonna

714-747-5670

GENRE: Action-Drama

LOGLINE: Nick Stringer, an ex-SAS Agent turned Formula One race car owner, dodges a ruthless drug cartel, and eludes a Scotland Yard “sting” while smuggling cocaine in the tires of his race cars.

SUMMARY: “It was pure, unadulterated bullshit!”  Getting caught, smuggling cocaine in the tires of Formula One cars. Nick Stringer, a charmer, and ex-SAS covert operator, stumbles onto the dark side. Stringer was a decorated soldier in the first gulf war.  He and two other coalition special operatives hid under the Saudi Desert sending real time information to the Florida war room. The Desert Storm “rats” caught the Iraqi Army sneaking out of Kuwait.  Air and land forces finished them off. The “Highway of Death”, made world headlines.

After the war, Stringer continued his passion for formula one racing. .  He became a hero after rescuing his pal, Ricardo Baltoni, from sure death, during the Long Beach Grand Prix. Stringer and Brigitta, his soul mate, lived the dream his yacht Arrows in Monaco Harbor.

Needing money, he smuggled cocaine from Bolivia in his race cars.  A handsome ladies man, Stringer knew all the right people. Drug profits were not enough to keep his Arrow’s team afloat. Stringer moonlighted as a high paid mercenary for MI-5, the CIA, and the Mossad. He killed insurgents in South Africa, escorted Gitmo detainees to “Black Sites,” he broke up a suicide bomb factory New York City, and blew up a shipment of uranium headed from France to Iran.

After months of surveillance Scotland Yard had Stringer by the short hairs. They tracked him from his yacht in Monaco to his flat in London. Customs documented his bank withdrawals and deposits. He was charged with selling and distributing cocaine to London’s elite.

He escaped during a botched Scotland Yard sting. Customs wanted him in prison the cartel wanted him dead. After a daring high speed chase, Stringer made it out alive. The Secret Service and Bolivians eventually cornered him New York. Like Houdini, he disappeared to live another day.

Fort Red Bull Summary

Fort Redbull

TV Series

  Created by Mike Colonna

 714-747-5670

GENRE: Action-Drama

LOGLINE: A young billionaire creates a private air force that becomes a CIA target.

SUMMARY: A convoy of former team of Navy Seals, Delta Force, and Black Ops, would escort an American CIA officer through a busy Baghdad market place on their way to the U.S. Green Zone.  The convoy comes to a screeching halt when large crowds block their path.  A group of militants are standing next to a truck loaded with rockets and grenade launchers.

The crowd surrounds the convoy, the American security team exits their SUV’s to clear a path, then all hell breaks lose.  The insurgents shoot indiscriminately into the crowd killing women and children.  Mayhem ensues, the crowd disperses, and the truck loaded with bad guys chases the convoy to the Green Zone.

Colonel Brad Barrett, the leader of the Special Ops team, is furious with the CIA officer, Allan Markus.  Markus was clearly responsible for choosing the route that ultimately made world headlines.

Barrett’s security company is blamed for the event and is discharged from doing business  with the American government.  Barrett receives twenty five million dollars, “golden parachute” from the Senate Armed Services Committee.  Barrett has a running feud with the CIA knowing he was framed by Allan Markus the CIA director.

Flash forward,  Barrett’s severance package from the US government becomes seed money for his next endeavor, a private air force.  His creates a private airforce. He armor plates “crop dusters” into lethal bombers.  Small nations  looking for an inexpensive way to thwart insurgencies line up to purchase Barrett’s Dusters.

Markus, now Chief CIA Director, wants to put Barrett out of business.  Plane manufacturers  bribe Markus. Barrett needs to go away.  Barrett around the world selling planes to foreign governments.  Markus makes Barrett enemy number one!.

The Last Alaskans - Extended Trailer Following Heimo

Rare Marlon Brando screentest

Model Train Show Long Beach 2010

Frascati, Italy

Belmont Shore, California, Business Strip

Huntington Beach "Surf City" California Main Street

You, Me & Sicily! Sizzle Reel!

"Stringer Storyboard Trailer" screenplay by Mike Colonna

"This was pure unadulterated Bullshit! Getting caught smuggling cocaine in tires of Formula One cars was the biggest mistake I made in my Life." But that wasn't the beginning, my life as a mercenary, killing for MI-5, the Israeli Government, and the South African Secret Service made me millions. I became a celebrity supplying "coke" to my London pals, until Scotland Yard made me a target. I threw it all away having a beautiful girlfriend, living the life on a 60 foot yacht in Monte Carlo, that was to easy. Nope, I had to get into the dark side and it cost me dearly. Fortunately I managed to land on my feet."      Here's my story.       
 

Based on True Events Written by Mike Colonna ________________________________________ PART ONE: The Man Behind the Wheel The first time I met Nick Stringer, it was during the high-glamour buzz of Grand Prix week in Monte Carlo, back in the early 1980s. My friend Whitey, who worked with Frank Sinatra and had a foothold in Hollywood’s more exclusive circles, was the one who set it all up. Our home base for the week was the glamorous Lowe’s Hotel, perched above Monaco Harbor with a perfect view of the iconic Grand Prix hairpin curve. If you were anyone, you were here. But even in this crowd, Whitey made it clear that Stringer wasn’t someone to miss. Whitey was eager for us to meet this guy, Doug Morris—though he insisted on calling him "Stringer." Apparently, he wasn’t just a mercenary, but one of those rare men who had worked covert operations for the CIA, MI5, and even Israel’s Mossad. He had recently wrapped up a particularly dangerous mission in South Africa, where, according to Whitey, Stringer had helped eliminate diamond smugglers who’d been operating in the remote hills of the country. Whitey didn’t say it directly, but I got the impression Stringer had probably pocketed a few diamonds himself. He was that kind of guy—hands-on and always playing the game by his own rules. As we arrived at Monaco Harbor in a cab, I couldn't help but feel the buzz of the city around me. It was dazzling, glittering, like the people who filled it. Whitey led us up to Stringer’s yacht, an impressive vessel that gleamed in the sunlight. It was hard to tell where the boat ended and the man began. Stringer was exactly what I expected—dark hair, chiseled features, and a body built like a Navy SEAL. He was barefoot, his bare chest glistening with water as he hosed down the deck. His girlfriend, Yolanda, a statuesque Danish beauty, was sunbathing on the top deck, completely topless, enjoying the Mediterranean warmth. Stringer greeted us with a firm handshake, his gaze steady and intense. There was a quiet authority about him, the kind that didn’t need to be spoken. We talked about racing—he was heavily involved with the "Arrows" Formula One team at the time—and he invited us to join him during the time trials. Stringer seemed to enjoy the thrill of the sport, but even more so, he appreciated the freedom it gave him to move in circles few could imagine. Soon enough, Stringer and I became fast friends. He’d visit my beach house in Belmont Shore when he was in town for the Long Beach Grand Prix, and we’d hang out with a mix of Hollywood royalty—actors like Gene Hackman, and musicians like Ringo Starr and George Harrison. It was easy to forget that Stringer wasn’t just a racer or a party-goer. He was a man with a shadowy past that no one, not even Yolanda, ever pressed him about. He wasn’t the kind of guy you asked questions. The less you knew, the better. But in those early days, I never fully understood what made him tick. ________________________________________ PART TWO: The Dark Side of Speed Nick Stringer wasn’t just a decorated soldier or a daredevil racer. Beneath the polished surface of a man with expensive tastes and powerful connections, there was something darker—much darker—lurking. Stringer had lived a life full of high-stakes missions, not all of which were on the side of justice. After serving as a covert operative in Operation Desert Storm, where he played a key role in calling in airstrikes on Iraqi troops (an action that would later be known as the "Highway of Death"), Stringer found himself drifting into a different world. With the war behind him, Stringer returned to his passion—Formula One racing. But he wasn’t just there for the thrill of the race. He was financing his lifestyle by smuggling cocaine, hidden in the tires of his Formula One cars. It was a perfect cover, blending his love of speed with the opportunity to move illicit goods across international borders. Stringer’s career in the covert world had also included high-profile jobs for MI-5, the CIA, and Mossad. He had assassinated diamond smugglers in South Africa, escorted Gitmo detainees to secret “Black Sites,” and even recovered ransoms for corporate kidnappings. He was a man with the skills to get in and out of situations most people would never even dream of. But as his drug-dealing side business grew, Stringer found himself crossing paths with people who would make his life a living nightmare. ________________________________________ PART THREE: The Chase It wasn’t long before Scotland Yard started to notice. Stringer’s operations were becoming harder to conceal, especially as he played a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse with law enforcement. After months of surveillance, they finally raided his Kensington flat. But Stringer was no ordinary target. He escaped the bust in a daring high-speed chase through the streets of London, with bags of cocaine flying out the back of his car like confetti. For two years, Stringer was on the run. The Bolivian cartel had put a bounty on his head, desperate to silence him for cutting them out of the deal. Scotland Yard’s customs agents were just as determined to see him behind bars. But Stringer wasn’t easy to catch. His escape routes spanned the globe—France, South Africa, and, with the help of Israel’s secret service, even back to New York City. There, he thought he might find some safety, some refuge, but once again, he was cornered. The U.S. and British authorities were closing in on him. But Nick Stringer wasn’t a man to be caught so easily. Like Houdini, he slipped away, leaving his pursuers frustrated and confused, wondering how a man could vanish without a trace. ________________________________________ PART FOUR: A World of Danger and Loyalty Through it all, Stringer’s network remained tight-knit. His associates in the criminal underworld and on the fringes of law enforcement never truly turned on him. People like Johnny Morris, an old friend who helped Stringer with his dealings in London; Colonel Hackman, the CIA operative with a military demeanor who coordinated many of Stringer’s more sensitive jobs; and even Sierra, his Danish girlfriend who, though suspicious of his secretive nature, never fully understood the scale of his activities. But loyalty ran deep in Stringer’s world. And as he kept one step ahead of both the law and the dangerous people hunting him, his true nature remained a mystery. Was he a hero? A villain? Or something else entirely? Perhaps the answer didn’t matter. For Stringer, the only thing that counted was survival—and that was something he had mastered. And as for me? Well, I knew better than to ask too many questions. Some stories are too dangerous to tell, and some men—like Nick Stringer—are too dangerous to fully understand. ________________________________________ Epilogue: A Life on the Run Nick Stringer’s story is still being written. As the years pass, he continues to dodge bullets, disappear into shadows, and live a life that most people could never imagine. For those who know him, he’s a man of extraordinary skill, courage, and, above all, survival. But there’s always a price to pay when you live on the edge. And sooner or later, Stringer will have to face the consequences of the choices he's made. Maybe then, the truth will come out.

Tonight Show - Behind the Scenes

Alfred, Ezster and Rocco's Second Season in Sicily.

Rocco Colonna credits on Dancing w/the Stars

AIR spec video from Noah Smith on Vimeo.

Rocco's Sicily, "You Me and Sicily." Trailer, camera Rocco Colonna