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  Ultimately, I flew to Tampa to testify at Collum’s trial. It was an unusual situation. Two agents who had handled Collum were there as reluctant defense witnesses to testify about the work Collum performed for the FBI. Collum’s spontaneous utterance in Houston played well in the trial, and Collum had to admit he shot the victim, but he used the defense that he was working for the FBI when he killed the victim in self-defense. The jury didn’t buy that. Collum was convicted of murder in 1988 and sentenced to life in prison without parole. In March 2005, Arthur died while in the custody of the Florida Department of Corrections.

  This case is a good example of where the patient development of rapport, even without a chance to ask questions and minimize or rationalize the crime, still led to the subject providing damaging evidence against his interests. It also points out how very important it is to listen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SPINS

  My Houston FBI squad also handled Civil Rights investigations and certain background investigations. There were a couple of agents on the squad who addressed the lion’s share of the background caseload. However, I sometimes found myself in one of the worst parts of town in the morning, arresting a fugitive, and then in one of the nicest parts of town in the afternoon, conducting a SPIN interview.

  SPINs are “Special Inquiries.” They are background investigations of individuals being considered for a Presidential appointment to a job requiring Senate confirmation. Those are the highest-level positions in the federal government, such as Cabinet members, federal district, appeal, and Supreme Court judges, Ambassadors, etc. SPINs are in-depth inquiries, and the finished product is voluminous. No stone is left unturned, and influential people on both sides of the aisle are queried as to their relationship and/or experience with the nominee. Many potential high-level appointees have not made the cut due to revelations obtained during SPINs. The investigations are extremely time-sensitive and are closely overseen by FBI Headquarters. George H.W. Bush was Vice President, and then President, during my time in Houston, and Houston was his home. As a result, we had many presidential appointees with Houston connections.

  I met many interesting people while conducting SPINs, but the person I remember most is the late John Connolly. As the Governor of Texas in 1963, he sat in the limousine across from President John F. Kennedy and was shot and seriously wounded when President Kennedy was assassinated. The Governor also served as the Secretary of the Navy under President Kennedy and was Secretary of the Treasury under President Richard Nixon. Governor Connolly received visits on many SPINs as he had extensive experience serving our country, was very well informed, and seemed to know everyone. In fact, he appeared to know who the subject of the next SPIN would be before we even received the assignment. Conversing with the Governor was always interesting and informative. He was a very bright and personable gentleman.

  Once, while visiting with him and discussing a potential appointee, Governor Connolly delivered a bulletin: “The President’s going to nominate (former Senator) John Tower for Secretary of Defense. The shit is going to hit the fan. But he would still be a good Secretary of Defense.” The Governor was correct about the potential nomination coming, the shit did hit the fan, and Mr. Tower never had the opportunity to serve as the Secretary of Defense as the Senate voted not to confirm him to the position.

  While working violent crime cases, I met some very interesting people, but few were as interesting as Governor Connolly. It was a great experience meeting with him, and he’s a person I’ll always remember. It’s also an example of what a great job being an FBI agent is. You can be chasing killers in the morning and having iced tea with the former Secretary of the Treasury in the afternoon.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HOUSTON SWAT

  After about a year in the Houston Division, I tried out and was chosen for the Houston SWAT team. I attended the FBI SWAT School at Quantico. It was two weeks of good tactical training. Our highly competent SWAT school leader provided us with wax bullets he crafted in his oven at home. I don’t believe the commercially made and softer, simulated ammo had yet hit the market. We wore vests, goggles, and throat protectors, but when you were hit by one of those wax bullets it stung like hell, which was about as close to being shot as you could get without drawing blood. (Although, come to think of it, they sometimes did draw blood.) It made for very realistic, heart-pounding training. During the school, we went through a ton of ammo on the range, we repelled down buildings and off helicopter’s skids, we navigated through the woods to locate a pre-determined position, and we planned and executed many entries into multiple rooms and other confined spaces.

  The SWAT training gave me a more focused view of issues that come with making entries into homes to seek out potentially armed and dangerous individuals. It was therefore good training for me, as I was working violent crime and chasing fugitives. Another practical reason was transportation. When I arrived in Houston, there were insufficient vehicles available to the agents, and vehicles were shared. It proved inconvenient and often a barrier to productivity. As a new agent, the chances of me having my own take-home car were about zero. However, a benefit of being on the SWAT team was having your own vehicle. It made my life easier, and made me more efficient.

  In Houston, the SWAT team practiced once or twice a month and focused on developing and maintaining the ability to make quick entries into most types of structures, and using overwhelming firepower to quickly free hostages and render the area safe. The training called for repetition in practicing quick and coordinated entries, being able to discriminate the good guys from the bad guys, and quickly neutralizing any threats through accurate use of weapons. It also included running from point to point and shooting at targets. That’s a lot different than standing on the firing line and shooting at a stationary target. Running gets the heart beating and requires focus and control to continuously hit the target. It’s a good and logical part of firearms training.

  Time and time again, people will react in stressful situations the way they are trained. That’s why first-rate training for law enforcement is so important. It’s why the Secret Service agents are so good at what they do; their reactions are ingrained from repetitive training. I found on several SWAT raids and other arrests in which I participated that the recurring training paid off, as we were capable of securing a good-size home containing bad guys and weapons in very short order, exercising that good tactical training and the element of surprise. Of course, even the best training and best planning does not always result in a peaceful solution. Sometimes, even when faced with overwhelming firepower, people will still fight. When that happens, the SWAT team is trained to neutralize the threat with minimal risk to the SWAT team members and innocent people present.

  Once, we were waiting for the green light to hit a home in Houston where gang members were alleged to be holding the mother and young brother of a rival gang member for ransom. Our staging area was logically chosen to be near to the target home and not visible to the public. In this particular case, we staged in the back area of a huge Houston cemetery. Many trees secluded the memorial park, and the area chosen could not be seen from any nearby public roadways. It was midmorning, and the eight or so of us were dressed head-to-toe in black and armed with our SWAT weapons. We were seated in a grassy area awaiting the word to move when slowly down the path came a funeral procession. I can only imagine what the mourners thought as they drove by and saw eight men, uniformly dressed in black with “FBI” emblazoned on their chests, all standing in reverence with weapons in hand as the funeral procession passed. Within a few minutes, the funeral Director was back with sandwiches and soft drinks to share with us. He was not at all perplexed. I guess we may not have been the first SWAT team that staged in his cemetery.

  Subsequently, we got the word to hit the house, a small two-bedroom ranch. One of our guys broke open the front door with a ram, and we entered. I was the second agent through the door and observed th
e two victims gagged and tied, sitting on a couch, and their captor rising from an easy chair. As we entered, the captor took two steps towards his weapon, which lay on a counter across the room. Seeing us, and probably being relieved to recognize we were the FBI and not some rival gang members, he froze and surrendered without incident. Ultimately, the rest of the kidnapers were caught, and the family was reunited. Our success in this and other situations was attributable to the repetitive and intense training SWAT teams undergo.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MY FAVORITE BANK ROBBERY

  I responded with a number of agents and Houston Police to an armed bank robbery one late afternoon and found the bank had been taken for about $225,000. That was a very unusual bank robbery, as most bank robbers walk away with only a few thousand dollars. (It’s much safer to get a job in the bank and steal from them internally. When you’re caught, and the chances are you will be, you’ll do less jail time than a bank robber.)

  Towards closing time on the day of the robbery, a senior teller had moved from teller to teller to collect cash and, as usual, was taking it downstairs to the vault, accompanied by a new teller, AJ. After walking the senior teller downstairs to the vault area, AJ excused himself and boarded an elevator to go back to the main floor. The senior teller thought that unusual, as AJ had previously spoken of being uncomfortable in elevators. Immediately after AJ left her, she came around a corner and found a man with his face partially covered waiting for her with a handgun. The senior teller was promptly relieved of about $225,000 cash in her possession, and the young man fled.

  While interviewing tellers, I noticed AJ was a very well dressed young man, well spoken, and just a little too sure of himself. Between his actions just before the robbery and his demeanor, I couldn’t help but take a closer look at him.

  In doing research on AJ, I found that his previous employment had been with The Men’s Club, a high-end gentlemen’s club in Houston, famous for being the home of future Playboy Playmates and Penthouse Pets. I visited The Men’s Club to learn of the teller’s employment there. In fact, I visited several times, of course always in the line of duty.

  When I approached the manager at The Men’s Club, he immediately knew whom I was talking about and told me that AJ had worked as a teller at the club, acting as a cashier for the waitresses and dancers. He had been fired from his job when it was discovered that he had skillfully compromised the security features of The Men’s Club’s computer-based accounting system and had pilfered more than $10,000. I asked why he hadn’t been prosecuted for felony theft and was told by the manager that the District Attorney’s Office did not like The Men’s Club and would not take on such a case.

  Now knowing that I was dealing with an intelligent thief, I tried to figure out the best way to approach AJ. In thinking about an approach, I remembered how well dressed and groomed AJ appeared and surmised that he enjoyed shopping for nice clothes. It also seemed logical that AJ might have spent some of the bank robbery money on new purchases. I started visiting clothing stores within a few miles of his home, armed with AJ’s photo. I hit pay dirt at a Kuppenheimers clothing store, which was the third or fourth store I visited. One of the sales managers recognized AJ’s photo and was able to pull up records showing that, the night after the bank robbery, AJ had spent several hundred dollars in cash buying new clothes. The fact that he had spent a large amount of cash made him seem a likely accomplice in the robbery, but it wasn’t proof. I decided to play a little trick on AJ and see if he would take the bait.

  I sat AJ down and told him that, unbeknownst to the public, a program which I named the Bank Robbery Apprehension Team, or BRAT, existed, sponsored by the FBI and the Federal Reserve Bank, wherein for seventy-two hours after cash was delivered to member banks, the serial numbers of the bills provided to the banks were maintained for quick retrieval in a database. Additionally, I informed him that nationwide merchants, such as Kuppenheimers, participated in the program to assist in bank robbery investigations. Under that program, any time a bank robbery occurred, merchants within a ten-mile radius of the bank received a fax from the Federal Reserve with the serial numbers of the bills stolen.

  I then advised AJ that Kuppenheimers had called and told me that he had used recorded stolen bills to purchase clothing at Kuppenheimers the night after the robbery. (I described the bills as coming from the Federal Reserve’s “BRAT Pack,” but AJ clearly didn’t catch my jest.)

  AJ took just a moment to think about it and then without hesitation stated that his friend must have robbed the bank, as that same friend had paid him a couple thousand dollars he owed AJ the night of the bank robbery. As much as I then tried to develop rapport, minimize, and rationalize, AJ wasn’t buying any of it. That’s all he would cop to, but it was enough.

  I quickly obtained a warrant for AJ’s friend for bank robbery. The New Orleans division tracked the guy down and arrested him while he was hiding at a hotel in the French Quarter. I flew over to visit with AJ’s friend in jail and told him of AJ’s statement implicating him in the bank robbery. He quickly confessed and implicated AJ as the brains behind the robbery.

  Both of them were sentenced to ten years in prison. By now, unless he’s committed more crime, AJ has been out of jail for quite a while. I hope he’s doing well. He struck me as bright and articulate. I thought, at the time, that he had the potential to do well in life.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LEONARD CAPALDI

  The gist of the Leonard Capaldi investigation is captured in this letter from the former United States Attorney in Houston to then FBI Director Louis Freeh. (Full disclosure: The letter from the US Attorney was actually written by Ed Gallagher, a senior assistant U.S. attorney, a former FBI agent, and an old friend):

  Capaldi was an interesting investigation involving a large number of victims, many who lost their life’s savings to the smooth-talking Villain. It was a truly despicable crime, which included taking advantage of the elderly.

  One facet of the investigation stays in my mind. Leonard Capaldi was using a scheme to defraud, allegedly perfected by an elder OC character from Detroit whom I’ll call “George” (not his real name), who in the late 1980s was living in Canada. George had been in prison in Canada on fraud charges when he was diagnosed with cancer. In Canada at that time, when a non-violent inmate was determined to be sick with a terminal illness, the inmate could appeal to be paroled to home under the supervision of a Hospice service. George was one such person. He had been diagnosed with terminal cancer while in prison and had been sent home to die.

  I traveled to a picturesque Canadian resort town to meet George, as I wanted to see if he would provide some insight into the scheme Capaldi was using. When I arrived in Canada, a Detective Sergeant of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) who had previously dealt with George met me. Since George had been paroled because he was allegedly near death, I was expecting to find him bedridden, under hospice care, and I hoped he was capable of speaking and would see no harm in speaking with me. The RCMP Sergeant drove me to George’s home and rang the doorbell. George’s wife came to the door. George wasn’t home. He was playing golf.

  The Sergeant and I then drove to a nearby country club where the Sergeant commandeered a golf cart. We then drove the course, looking for George. On the back nine, the Sergeant spotted George and pointed him out. He was making an approach shot to a green from about 100 yards out. He hit the ball well, it landed on the green, and George looked pleased as he hopped into his golf cart. We followed behind and observed him get out of the cart and confidently stroll to the green to putt. He moved well, and one could not tell from looking at him that he was a sick man.

  After sinking his putt, George turned and spotted the Sergeant. Immediately, George’s walk back to his golf cart became a slow shuffle. His shoulders slouched, and his stomach distended as he stared down at the ground. I couldn’t help but smile. When we pulled up to George’s cart, the Sergean
t said, “Hi, George. How you doing?” He replied, “Not very well Sergeant. Just getting ready to die.”

  The Sergeant introduced me to George, and I told him why I wanted to speak with him. George seemed quite pleased that the FBI had traveled all the way from Texas to seek his counsel. When I discussed Capaldi’s scheme, George was clearly annoyed that someone else was using his wicked plan without him receiving a piece of the action and, with very little prompting and a touch of pride, he provided me with insight into the process that made up the scheme to defraud. It had to do with employing (bribing) an established market maker in the OTC (over the counter) world to list and promote a stock while knowing the stock was of little or no value. The stock was then promoted to prospective investors as a once in a lifetime opportunity. With an exceptional salesman like Leonard Capaldi, the scheme was worth millions. While today I don’t remember all the details of the scheme, I’ll always remember Louie’s comical metamorphosis on the golf course.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SOME INTERESTING ARRESTS

  Not long after arriving in Houston, I was introduced to a Houston gunsmith who was also a part-time deputy U.S. marshal. (He had the badge and i.d. to prove it. I had never heard of a part-time deputy marshal before.) I joined him for lunch that day and found he was friends with police at the local, state, and federal level and was also friends with local judges, one of whom he had recently equipped with a custom, pearl-handled .45, which the judge carried each day under his black robes.

  I ran into the gunsmith/deputy marshal from time to time, and I always enjoyed our meetings. One afternoon, he gave me a call and asked me to stop by his gun shop, as he had something to share with me. I drove to his shop and, after a few moments of welcoming conversation, he advised me that a female friend of his had confided that she had a girlfriend who was dating a guy who was on the run from the FBI in California where he was wanted for Embezzlement. I then sought out and spoke with the gunsmith’s lady friend, and she explained that the wanted man had convinced his new girlfriend that he had been set up by his two business partners in California and that the FBI was looking for him. His girlfriend was therefore helping him establish a new identity. He was employed as the maître d’ at an elegant restaurant and club in Houston.