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Towing war in Philadelphia?

Just after 1 a.m. Wednesday, a surveillance camera at J & Sons auto body captured two men - one toting a huge yellow gas can - as they crept onto the lot and started a blaze that engulfed 13 customer vehicles.

J & Sons owner Jose LaTorre Sr. stands next to cars that were set afire at his lot. (David Maialetti / Staff Photographer)
J & Sons owner Jose LaTorre Sr. stands next to cars that were set afire at his lot. (David Maialetti / Staff Photographer)Read more

Just after 1 a.m. Wednesday, a surveillance camera at J & Sons auto body captured two men - one toting a huge yellow gas can - as they crept onto the lot and started a blaze that engulfed 13 customer vehicles.

Around that time, about a dozen blocks away, someone was firing six shots at rival Mystical Towing. Three rounds penetrated the office wall just below the thick security glass, and one went "straight back" to the room where owner John Campbell's wife was sleeping.

Throughout the day, the owners took turns either blaming each other or suggesting that tensions between the two played some role in the simultaneous violence.

Towing in Philadelphia long has been a rough-and-tumble business of aggressive competitors and, according to critics, its share of shady practices. On Monday, the aggression reached a new level.

That's when Jose LaTorre Jr. - one of the sons in J & Sons - arrived at the scene of a North Philadelphia wreck to claim the job. The only problem was that he was driving his Cadillac Escalade, not a tow truck.

When Mystical driver Angel Carrera arrived in an actual tow truck, he and LaTorre got into an argument over which company could do the work.

In the end, police said, LaTorre shot Carrera in the left thigh. Detectives have been searching for LaTorre ever since.

LaTorre's father, Jose Sr., said his son was acting in self-defense and planned to surrender Wednesday, though he had not done so as of 11:15 p.m., according to police.

"My son didn't want to fight the guy," he said. "He was going in his pocket. My son got scared."

LaTorre Sr. said he had nothing to do with shooting up Mystical Towing. Even the police knew that, he said, because they hadn't bothered to question him.

"It's stupid, man," he said. "If you going to retaliate, what sense is there to shoot a wall?"

Across Roosevelt Boulevard, at Mystical, Campbell said that he was tired of talking about the whole ordeal, but that any suggestion that he had something to do with the arson at J & Sons was ridiculous.

"They're trying to cover up what his son did to us, trying to flip the script on us," Campbell said.

He said Jose LaTorre Jr. had called him that morning to say "he never meant anything toward my business, that it wasn't personal."

Campbell said that for all he knew, the arson at J & Sons and the shooting at Mystical could have been done by a third party seeking to harm both businesses.

"The bottom line is that it has to stop," he said.

A police cruiser was parked conspicuously outside each business Wednesday - J & Sons, in the 3700 block of North Second Street in North Philadelphia, and Mystical, in the 100 block of West Ashdale Street in Olney.

Lt. Frank Vanore, a police spokesman, said detectives had not established a connection between Monday's shooting and Wednesday's events, "but there's definitely some correlation."

"It's risen to a certain level of violence," he said. "We're trying to put a lid on it."

City Councilman Frank Rizzo thought he had brought some order to the chaotic world of tow drivers - or "wreck chasers" - with legislation that passed two years ago.

That law created a towing rotation. Once police arrived at the scene of a wreck, the dispatcher would alert the next towing company on the rotation to respond.

Rizzo said the law was meant to stop towing companies affiliated with body shops from taking advantage of drivers. Some body shops, he said, would use substandard parts to make repairs and charge exorbitant fees, effectively holding a car hostage.

He also hoped the law would end the culture of wreck-chasers battling to reach accident scenes first.

But he said police had failed to enforce the rotation list, and recently the department changed its policy to no longer send officers to minor accidents.

"You can't send a pamphlet to wreck chasers and say, 'Be good boys and girls,' " Rizzo said. "They should understand the culture they're dealing with. . . . Without the police presence, forget it."

LaTorre also said police don't use the list, and his company has been dispatched from the rotation just once in six months.

"How can you survive? How can you stay in business? You can't," he said. "It's not that we're out there acting tough or walking around with guns. The economy is so bad, it's forcing people to do whatever you can to survive."

Vanore said officers had been dispatched to the accident on West Hunting Park Avenue that ended in Monday's shooting. But, he said, officers have to prioritize their calls.

Meanwhile, he said, wreck chasers "are riding scanners and getting to these auto accidents before we do." The drivers make agreements with motorists before police arrive. Officers then won't override the agreement and call for a tow from the rotation, Vanore said.

Many drivers, he noted, have insurance that provides free towing, so police are deferential to motorists' preferences. The result, Rizzo said, is the type of freewheeling practices that he wanted to prevent.

LaTorre and Campbell both said their companies had previous run-ins.

Campbell said they had some problems "last year, but it mellowed out." LaTorre said Mystical keeps hiring drivers who keep "trying to intimidate" his drivers.

Vanore said wreck-chasing always has been a tough business, but drivers usually respect it if another tow truck beats them to a scene.

"It's competitive, but they know each other," he said. "I've never seen anything like this."