Arriving at the small airport near Detroit, Sheeran jumped into the non-descript dusty Ford that was waiting for him. The keys were on the floor mat as planned, and he drove off to the house to meet Provenzano henchman and Local 560 business agent Salvatore “Sally Bugs” Briguglio. After driving a few minutes Sheeran pulled into the driveway behind a brown Buick. He walked up the stairs, opened the unlocked door and was greeted by Sally Bugs. From the small vestibule he could see two Italian guys sitting in the kitchen at the back of the house. They would be the cleanup crew after the deed was done. The plan was to be conducted like a military operation, which suited Sheeran to a tee.
A few minutes after arriving at the brown shingled house, Jimmy Hoffa’s foster son, Chuckie O’Brien, drove up. O’Brien was driving Tony Giacolone’s son’s maroon Mercury and the familiar car was meant to put both O’Brien and Hoffa at ease. Hoffa was expecting Tony Giacalone, so having the car, with Chuckie as the driver, was part of the bait. It was time to move. Sheeran sat in the front passenger seat with O’Brien while Sally Bugs sat in the passenger seat behind O’Brien. The maroon Mercury got to the Red Fox in less than fifteen minutes. When they got there, they saw Hoffa’s green Pontiac in the restaurant’s parking lot but Hoffa was nowhere in sight. O’Brien parked the car with the motor running, and a minute later they saw Hoffa coming toward his car from the area of the hardware store behind the restaurant. O’Brien slowly pulled up to Hoffa surprising him. “What the fuck are you even doing here? Who the fuck invited you?” Hoffa screamed, poking his finger at O’Brien. Hoffa looked in the back seat and saw Sally Bugs.
“Who the fuck is he?” Hoffa yelled. “I’m with Tony Pro,” Sally said. “What the fuck is going on here? Your fucking boss was supposed to be here at 2:00,” Hoffa barked. Sally Bugs then pointed to the person in the front seat. Hoffa lowered his head and saw Sheeran. “His friend (Russell Bufalino) wanted to be at the thing. They’re at the house waiting,” Sally Bugs said. Telling Hoffa that Bufalino was going to be at meeting was the final bait. Hoffa was smart enough to know that if there was going to be any violence, Bufalino would not be there. I thought you were supposed to call me last night. I waited in front of the restaurant at 2:00 for you. You were going to be sitting in my car when they showed. I was going to make them get in for a sit-down,” Hoffa said. Sheeran told Hoffa they were delayed and that Bufalino had a change of plans and wanted to meet with him at the house. Hoffa was getting really pissed off and impatient by now. About forty-five minutes had gone by since he got to the Red Fox, and he wanted to get the meeting done and over with. He then came around the car and got in and sat behind Sheeran. It worked. O’Brien took the car out of neutral and drove off. “Who the fuck is Pro sending a fucking errand boy?” Hoffa exclaimed. “We’ll be there in two minutes,” O’Brien piped in, trying to calm things down. Hoffa told Sheeran that he had called his wife. “You could have left a message,” Hoffa said. Without missing a beat, Sheeran explained that Bufalino did not want him to say anything about the plans over the telephone. “At least somebody could’ve told me 2:30 . . . at the very least,” Hoffa said.