The Boys from Biloxi: A Legal Thriller (24 page)

Once the men felt as though they had been sufficiently propositioned, they delayed further action by claiming to be hungry. They wanted burgers and fries, and promised the girls they would catch up with them later. They moved to the bar, ordered food, and watched the girls retreat for a moment, then descend on two more potential customers.

The undercover operation went on for six weeks as various
agents, all off-duty policemen and deputies from the towns in Graebel’s Nineteenth District, ventured into Carousel and chatted up the girls. There was no indication that either the girls or their managers were suspicious. Jesse listened to their recorded conversations and became convinced that he could prove a pattern of criminal activity.

When he had enough proof, he filed suit in chancery court of Harrison County seeking to enjoin Carousel from all operations. He notified the state liquor board and demanded it pull the nightclub’s license to sell alcohol. And, he hand-delivered a copy of the lawsuit to the
Gulf Coast Register.
The newspaper obliged with a front-page story. His war had begun.

Not surprisingly, Ginger Redfield hired Joshua Burch to defend her nightclub, and, in a blustery rebuttal, he denied any criminal wrongdoing and asked the court to dismiss the charges. Jesse pushed hard for an expedited hearing, but Burch proved adept at delaying matters. Two months dragged by as the lawyers filed motion after motion and quibbled over a day in court.

Needless to say, the startling move by the new DA rattled the underworld. With gambling seriously curtailed on the Coast, the nightclubs relied on prostitution to rake in extra cash. Most were doing well with drinking and stripping, both still quite legal, but the serious money was made in the rooms upstairs.

Lance Malco was livid and realized the gravity of the assault on his businesses. If Jesse Rudy could close Carousel, any club might be next. Lance got his girls in line with strict instructions to stay away from anyone they hadn’t dealt with before. He huddled with Joshua Burch and plotted an aggressive line of defense.

Chancery court was known as the court of equity and had jurisdiction over such non-criminal matters as domestic relations,
probate, zoning, elections, and a dozen other issues that did not require jury trials. It was commonly known as “divorce court” because 80 percent of the docket involved bad marriages and child custody. A nuisance case was a rarity.

The chancellor was the Honorable Leon Baker, an aging jurist jaded by years of refereeing warring spouses and choosing who got the kids. Like many citizens on the Coast, he had grown up with a disdain for the nightclubs and had never set foot in one. When he tired of the lawyers and their maneuvers, he called a halt and set the case for a hearing.

It was a historic occasion, the first time one of the infamous joints from the Strip had been hauled into court in an effort to close it. A crowd gathered in the courtroom, and though most of the gangsters stayed away, they were well represented. Nevin Noll sat in the back row and would, of course, report everything to Lance Malco. As the owner of Carousel, Ginger Redfield had no choice but to sit at counsel table next to Joshua Burch who, as always, was thrilled with the audience.

Jesse Rudy spoke first and promised to lay out a clear pattern of criminal activity. He would call to the stand six men, all off-duty officers, who would testify that they agreed to pay for sex at Carousel. No money changed hands, there was no sex, but the statute was clear that once a price was agreed upon, the crime had occurred. Jesse waved around a stack of papers and described them as valid subpoenas he had issued for the working girls at Carousel. The subpoenas had not been served on the girls because Fats Bowman had ordered his deputies to ignore them.

“You want these ladies in court?” Judge Baker asked.

“Yes, Your Honor. I have the right to subpoena them.”

Judge Baker looked at a bailiff and said, “Go find the sheriff and tell him to get here immediately. Mr. Burch.”

Joshua rose, properly addressed the court, and launched into a windy explanation of how business was conducted at Carousel.
The girls were merely waitresses serving drinks to the boys, harmless fun. Sure, some of the girls were professional dancers who enjoyed performing while wearing little, but that was not illegal.

No one believed him, not even the chancellor.

The first witness was Chuck Armstrong, a policeman from Moss Point. He told his story of going to the nightclub with a friend, Dennis Greenleaf, also a policeman, and buying drinks for a young lady named Marlene. He never got her last name. They drank and danced and she finally propositioned him by offering half an hour upstairs in a room. For fifty dollars cash, he would get all the sex he wanted. He agreed on the price and the arrangements. There was no question that they made a deal, then he said he wanted to wait an hour and get something to eat. She left to hustle another table and lost interest in him. When she disappeared, he and Dennis made their exit.

On cross-examination, Joshua Burch asked the witness if he understood the term “procuring prostitution.”

“Of course I understand what that means. I am a police officer.”

“Well, then, you must certainly understand that procuring the services of a prostitute is also a crime, punishable by a fine and jail time.”

“I do, yes.”

“So you, as an officer of the law, admit here, under oath, that you committed a crime?”

“No sir. It was an undercover operation, and if you knew police work then you’d understand that we are often forced to pretend to be people we are not.”

“So it was not your intent to commit a crime?”

“It was not.”

“Didn’t you go to the nightclub with the full intention of entrapping Marlene into an act of prostitution?”

“No sir. Again, it was an undercover operation. We had good reason to believe there was criminal activity going on, and I went there to see for myself.”

Burch tried several times to trap the witness into admitting his own criminal activity, but Jesse had prepared him. Dennis Greenleaf was next and his testimony was virtually identical to Armstrong’s. Burch railed at the officer and tried to paint him as the perpetrator, a man of the law preying on young ladies who were only serving drinks and doing their jobs.

The next four witnesses were also off-duty policemen and deputies, and by noon the questions and answers were monotonous. There was no doubt that Carousel was a hotbed of prostitution. Before recessing for lunch, Chief Deputy Kilgore arrived in the courtroom and explained to Judge Baker that Sheriff Bowman had been called away on pressing matters and was out of town. Kilgore was grilled about the failure to serve the subpoenas, routine matters in Baker’s opinion. He handed the five subpoenas to Kilgore and ordered him to serve them on the “waitresses” immediately. He promised to do so, and the hearing was adjourned until the following morning.

It was not clear whether the deputies actually went to the nightclub in search of the witnesses, but at 9
a.m.
the next day Kilgore reported that none of the five was still working at Carousel. To add to the confusion, the names on the subpoenas were aliases. The girls were gone.

This angered Judge Baker but no one was surprised. Joshua Burch called Ginger Redfield to the stand, and she calmly denied any wrongdoing at her club. She was a smooth liar and explained that she did not tolerate prostitution and had never seen any evidence of it.

Jesse was itching to cross-examine her, his first real shot at a crime boss. He asked her to repeat her testimony about prostitution at Carousel, which she did. He reminded her that she was under oath and asked if she understood that perjury was another crime. Joshua Burch objected loudly and Judge Baker sustained the objection. Jesse asked her about the five waitresses and tried to elicit their real names. Ginger claimed that she didn’t know because the
“ladies” often used fake names. He grilled her about her record-keeping and she had no choice but to admit that the girls were paid in cash with nothing on the books. She explained that the waitresses came and went, that her workforce was unstable at best, and that she had no idea where the five had gone.

Jesse then questioned her about gambling at Carousel and she again claimed to know nothing of it. No slots, poker, blackjack, no craps or roulette tables. Burch objected to that line of questioning and reminded the court that the alleged nuisance was prostitution. The DA had put on no proof of gambling. Judge Baker agreed and told Jesse to move on. The cross-exam lasted for two hours and was at times contentious, as both lawyers argued back and forth while the witness kept her cool and at times even seemed amused. Judge Baker tried to referee the fight but lost patience. Through it all, it became evident that he didn’t believe a word the witness said and had no tolerance for the illicit activities at her nightclub.

The hearing ended before lunch. Both sides expected Judge Baker to take the matter under advisement and mull it over for a few days. He surprised them, though, with a ruling from the bench. He declared Carousel to be a nuisance and ordered it closed immediately and permanently.

Its doors were shut for a week before Joshua Burch filed a notice of appeal and posted a $10,000 bond. The law allowed it to reopen pending appeal, a lengthy process.

Jesse won the battle but the war was far from over. It proved how difficult it would be to fight the nightclub owners. With no help from the local police or Fats Bowman, law enforcement was of little use. Using honest cops from other towns would be time-consuming and risky. Plus, the hookers were hard to catch—no one knew their real names and they could vanish at a moment’s notice.

The way Lance figured things, if his business could survive the loss of gambling revenues brought on by the nosy state liquor board, and then the worst hurricane in history, it could certainly survive a new hotshot district attorney. The Carousel affair spooked him and the other owners, but after a few weeks the girls returned, as did their customers. He had the clever idea of requiring “club membership” of the regulars. The doors were open to anyone wanting to drink, dance, and watch the strippers, but if a gentleman desired something more he had to show his membership card. And, in order to get one, he had to be known to the bouncers, bartenders, and managers. The rule slowed the traffic somewhat, but it also made undercover work virtually impossible. Lance had enlarged photos of the six cops sent in by Jesse Rudy to infiltrate Carousel and later to testify. They were tacked to the walls in his clubs’ kitchens and the employees were on the lookout. A clean-cut stranger under the age of fifty had at least three sets of eyes on him before he reached the bar and ordered a drink.

The screening worked so well that everyone else followed suit. Before long, a few of the club owners felt so secure they reopened their casinos, but for members only.

Any sense of security, though, got rattled again when the DA made his next move. Jesse convened his grand jury in secret and presented four of the six officers who had testified in the Carousel
trial. By unanimous vote, the grand jury indicted Ginger Redfield on four counts of promoting prostitution by “knowingly enticing, causing, persuading, or encouraging another person to become a prostitute,” and “having control over a place and intentionally permitting another person to use said place for prostitution.” The maximum penalty for each count was a fine of $5,000 and ten years in prison, or both.

Jesse took the sealed indictment to the chambers of Judge Oliphant and asked him to read it. He needed a favor. The law required the defendant to be personally served with a copy of the indictment, but Fats Bowman could not be counted on. Judge Oliphant called the sheriff, who was notoriously hard to find, and was told the boss was out of town. Chief Deputy Kilgore was running the office that morning and the judge asked him to stop by his chambers immediately. When he arrived half an hour later, Jesse handed him the indictment. Judge Oliphant ordered him to serve it on Ginger Redfield, arrest her, and take her to the jail. Bail was set at $15,000.

Joshua Burch was at his desk when the call came from Ginger. In a voice that was remarkably calm, she described being arrested at her office at O’Malley’s, handcuffed even, led by Kilgore to his patrol car, placed in the rear seat, and driven to the jail where they processed her, took her mug shot, and put her in the only cell for women. It was quite humiliating, but she seemed unfazed.

Burch took off for the jail, smiling all the way at the prospect of another high-profile case. He could almost see the headlines.

Ginger was waiting in a small room where the attorneys met with their clients. She had refused to change into the standard orange jumpsuit and was still wearing a dress and heels. Burch read the indictment with a grim face, and said, “This is nothing but trouble.”

“Is that the best you can do? Of course it’s trouble. Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here in jail. When can you get me out?”

“Soon. I’ve already called a bondsman. How fast can you get a thousand bucks in cash?”

“My brother’s on the way.”

“Good. I’ll get you out in a few hours.”

She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Burch knew her well enough to believe she had ice water in her veins. During the Carousel hearing she had never appeared nervous and at times seemed amused by the proceedings. She slowly blew more smoke and said, “Rudy might have a good case, right?”

A damned good case. The six undercover cops would testify and do a convincing job. Burch had seen them under pressure and knew they would have credibility with any jury. Add the fact that Carousel had been declared a nuisance for its prostitution, and, yes, Jesse Rudy definitely had the upper hand.

But Burch said, “We’ll put up a good fight. We’ll get the girls in line and have them prepped. I don’t lose many cases, Ginger.”

“Well, you can’t lose this one because I’m not going to prison.”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now let’s get you out.”

“I’ve just spent two hours in a cell back there and it’s not for me. My husband has been locked up for six years and is not doing well. Promise me, Joshua, that I won’t go to prison.”

“I can’t make that promise. I never do. But you’ve hired the best and we’ll put up a strong defense.”

“When will I go to trial?”

“Months from now, maybe a year. We’ll have plenty of time.”

“Just get me out.”

Burch left the jail and drove to Red Velvet where he met with Lance Malco and described the indictment. Lance was stunned at first, then his shock quickly turned to anger. When he cooled down somewhat, he said, “I guess he can indict all of us, right?”

“Yes, in theory. The grand jury is usually a rubber stamp for the DA. But I wouldn’t expect it.”

“And why not?”

“He’ll probably use Ginger as the test case. If he can convict her, then he’ll look around. As you know, there’s no shortage of potential defendants.”

“That son of a bitch is out of control.”

“No, Lance, I’d say he’s very much in control. He has enormous power and can indict almost anyone. Convicting, though, is another matter. It’s a huge gamble on his part because if he loses, then he’ll have to go back to chasing car thieves.”

“You can’t let him win, Burch.”

“Trust me.”

“I do, always have.”

“Thanks. In the meantime, shut it down. No gambling, no hookers.”

“We’re not gambling, you know that.”

“Yes, but there’s plenty of it going on.”

“I can’t control the other clubs.”

“You won’t have to. When they hear about Ginger’s arrest, they’ll get in line, and quickly. Put out the word that there’s no gambling and no girls for the next six months.”

“That’s exactly what Rudy wants, right?”

“Take a break. Play it straight. You’ve been in the business long enough to know that the demand always comes back.”

“I don’t know, Burch. Change is in the air. Now we have a cocky DA who likes to see his name in print.”

“The best advice I can give you is don’t do anything stupid.”

Lance finally smiled as he waved him off.

Late that afternoon, Lance and Hugh left the Strip and drove north into Stone County. Hugh was behind the wheel, back at his old job after a stint on a freighter and another one on an offshore oil rig, both arranged by his father. The jobs convinced him he was
unfit for honest labor. Lance had been merciless with his scolding for the jewelry store heists and promised that one more screwup would land the boy either out of the family business or in prison, or both. Hugh had readily given up his dreams of arms dealing and easily fell back into his old routines of pool hustling, beer drinking, and checking on his convenience stores.

They weaved through the piney woods and parked in front of Fats’s hunting cabin. Kilgore was grilling steaks on the deck and Fats was already into the bourbon.

It was time to discuss what to do about Jesse Rudy.