Gang Mom (14 page)

With the wiring in place, the next step was establishing where the bug would be manned, and who would man it. Violent Crimes had had enough experience with tapping on previous cases to know that setting up a listening post at police headquarters would not work. It was too cramped as it was, and the last thing Michaud wanted was some stupid rookie to mess things up by throwing the wrong switch. No, better to work off-premises.

A secret listening post was established in an office building in downtown Eugene. An office was rented for the month—it was not anticipated the tap would go further—chairs were brought in, Marantz tape recorders, phones and head phones were set up on plain wooden tables. The phone company electronically tied Mary’s phone in with the one at the listening post. When hers rang, the listening post’s did too and the DNR did the rest.

DNR stands for “Dial Number Recorder.” It is a unit that automatically monitors all incoming and outgoing calls, carefully recording the date and time of the call, as well as the internal catalogue number. Like the retail “Caller ID” available to consumers, the DNR registers the name of the incoming caller and the number they’re calling from. But the human factor, the people manning the phones, are just as important, if not more so.

The government will not let any police department monitor all calls. They have to be relevant to the case, as set out in the affidavit. Therefore, any court order to wiretap comes with minimization instructions, which require the officer manning the tap not to listen in during certain types of calls. Generally, calls involving husband and wife, spiritual counselors and lawyers are minimized and that was the case with the Thompson wiretap.

Assistant D.A. Steve Skelton initiated discussions with Michaud and the administration people from the Eugene Police Department about when the wire could be broken. Since it was an aggravated murder investigation, maintaining the wiretap would be given as high a priority as possible.

A consensus was reached that the wiretaps would not be broken to foil a crime against property, for instance grand theft auto. They might attempt to thwart such a crime, but they wouldn’t shut down the wiretap for the purpose of going out and stopping a crime against property.

The wire would only be
burned
[compromised] where there was a chance the gang would physically hurt someone. They would take the chance that Mary Thompson would not realize that the police’s principal source of information would be a phone tap.

With the wire’s protocol set, and the wiring itself in place, it was time to begin. Manning the headphones were Michaud and Rainey. Ric Raynor, though, was conspicuously absent. He had been taken off the case, which made him feel slighted and, at least to one reporter who interviewed him, bitter. But the case was bigger than any one cop’s feelings. Murder always is.

ELEVEN

At 11:17 p.m. on Friday, January 13, 1995, the DNR turned on. Michaud was on duty and he picked up the earphones. It was a call from Lisa Fentress for Beau Flynn.

“Hello?” Beau answered.

“Hi,” said Lisa.

“This is his night.”

“Yep.”

“He came down to visit me, homes. He didn’t bring his real car. He stole one.”

“Did you say he’s driving a stolen car?”

“Ha ha, yeah. But he changed the plates and the VIN number so if he got pulled over they couldn’t say nothing to him.”

As the conversation proceeded it became clear that “he” was a business associate of Beau’s from Portland who trafficked in stolen cars. It was clear that Beau had an intimate knowledge of the business.

“I gotta page my home boy and see what’s going on,” Beau continued.

“All right.”

“’Cause I think he already has a hotel. I think he might be talking to Nina.”

“
Nina Jones
?”

“No! That bitch got my dope, man! She gave me the fake shit, homes! She gave me fake stuff, you know that? She switched it! I’m gonna kill that girl!”

“How do you know it was fake?”

“I f—ing tested it tonight. She gave me a fat rock of the real stuff, but the rest of it, we were bouncing it off the damn floor!”

Well, that’s one drug deal Beau won’t make
, Michaud thought.

Later in the day, at 2:01 p.m., Beau placed a call to gang member
Tom Simmons
.

“Hey, what’s up, homes?”

“What’s up?” Tom answered.

“So what’s up for tonight?”

“I don’t know. Let’s hook up,” Tom suggested.

“All right, homes, because I want to f—in’ steal that car. If we could take that out and strip it for a grip …”

“Yeah,” Tom agreed.

“’Cause there’s this chop shop dealer up in Portland.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. We could drive them up there and sell their butt. Each one of ’em. And the guy don’t take f—ed up cars. He takes like Cadillacs and s—like that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And he’ll pay us like four hundred for each car.”

“Cool.”

“So we could drive like four cars up a night.”

“Ha ha ha!”

“And then after we steal ’em, we can park ’em and throw tarps on ’em.”

“Okay.”

Beau had apparently had such a tough day planning out his criminal activities that he had to take a nap. His next phone call wasn’t until 10:53 p.m.

“Hello?” his friend Sam Warthan began.

“What’s up?” Beau answered.

“Hey.”

“Yeah, she said that, uh, any time before one o’clock and then she knows where a house is too.”

They’re planning a burglary, Michaud thought.

“Okay. I just called you to say it would probably be longer ’cause my clothes ain’t done drying.”

“Yeah, but she has it. She’s ready.”

“Okay.”

“And then,” Beau continued, “we could drive her up there probably and out where that thing exactly is at.”

“Well, I got a house over here.”

“Oh, yeah, we got a couple there then?”

“Yeah.”

So it would be a few burglaries.

“All right. Cool then.”

“But I can’t do this one house.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve already done it and the neighbors know me.”

Michaud chuckled and said to Rainey, “At least he’s got some common sense.”

“What’s that mean?” Beau asked.

“On the other hand, Beau does tend to be a bit dense,” Michaud added as Sam explained, “They know me. They know what I look like.”

“Oh. So you want to do something else then?”

“No, I would, you all could do it.”

“Well, damn.”

“There’s four guaranteed straps in there.”

The cops stiffened.

“Huh?”

“There’s four guaranteed straps in there,” Sam repeated.

Both Michaud and Rainey knew that
straps
was gang slang for guns.

“Well, I don’t understand. Where’s Tom at?”

“He’s in the shower.”

“All right. Is Tom gonna do it with me?”

“Probably.”

“All right. That’d be cool then. I ain’t gonna do it by myself necessarily.”

“Well, I’ll probably even go in.”

“Neh neh neh, yeah, but we’ll have a strap, we’ll be strapped for now. You know. Strapped. I’ll go pick up some bullets today, later on.”

“Which one you getting? That twenty-two?”

“Yeah.”

“A revolver?”

“Yep. They still bust cars, though. You know?”

“Yeah. Where’s your f—in’ nine at?”

“Dude, that’s a forty-five,” Beau corrected. “I can’t find it. Ha ha. I left it at the broad’s house, man. But no, I think I know where it’s at. ’Cause I can’t go over there ’cause she’s on vacation with her parents.”

“Let’s just go rob her house,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, right. I can’t do that, homes. That ain’t cool like that. The girl don’t even know it’s there, though.”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, well, it’s like that except it’s a forty-five. Same color and everything.”

“F—.”

“Little bit smaller. Once we have this twenty-two, Bam! Bam! Bam! man, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet you we can pop off some of the broads over there.”

“Yeah, homes. Hey, don’t you have blue bandannas over there somewhere?” Beau asked.

“Nope.”

“F—. I got it, just one here. You want to wear that today?”

“I got my beanie. I always wear my beanie.”

“I got my black bandanna on.”

“Can’t start no fights over there …”

“I know.”

“… because this f—ing truck’s gonna be hot soon.”

“We need to get a good chop shop.”

“I know one. In Portland.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call him right now. Want me to?”

“Yeah.”

“All right.”

“Later.”

It was clear to the detectives that Beau Flynn and Sam Warthan were about to take possession of weapons that would be used in a series of burglaries and perhaps robberies as well. But where and when?

JANUARY 17, 1995

The wire was quiet until the next morning at 11:12 a.m. when Beau called his buddy Tom Simmons.

“Hello?” Tom answered.

“What’s up?” said Beau. “What’re you guys doing?”

“Just taking a shower.”

“Yeah, that bitch, she’s got it with her.”

The cops surmised it was the .22 in question. But who was “the bitch”?

“Yeah, we’re gonna hit some houses today,” Beau continued.

“Yeah.”

“And that way, we don’t get smoked if we get in there, you know?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d rather smoke than be smoked.”

Smoked
meant killed; Beau was saying he’d rather do the killing than be killed and the gun “the bitch” was going to give him would allow him to do just that.

“You know that girl Lisa?”

“Yeah?”

“That one I’m getting it from?”

“Yeah.”

The detectives barely heard the rest of the conversation. Now they knew the person giving Beau the revolver was named Lisa and it was a good bet it was Lisa Fentress, whom they knew to be part of the gang. Their hunch was confirmed a few minutes later at 11:39 a.m. when Fentress called Beau.

“Hey, I’m ready,” Beau said.

“So you’ll be here in like fifteen minutes?” Lisa asked.

“Well, more like twenty or thirty.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, homes, instead, bring ’em all over to the high school.”

“All right.”

“And then I’ll take ’em.”

Beau would be driving a stolen Chevy Suburban wagon. The meeting place was South Eugene High School.

“All right, okay,” Lisa said, and the conversation ended.

So that was the scam: Lisa Fentress was delivering the guns to Beau Flynn. The exchange would take place at South Eugene High School, which Lisa attended.

The wiretap was only four days old and already Michaud had evidence of a felony in the making. The decision now was whether to compromise the tap at this early stage and bust Flynn after receiving the guns but before he could take off with them, or follow him after he took possession and see what happened.

It was really no decision at all. Flynn would be arrested as soon as the guns changed hands. No reason to put innocent civilians at risk. And if Mary Thompson then figured out that her son was arrested because of the tap, so be it.

Michaud contacted the patrol officer whose beat was South Eugene High School. He told him to be on the lookout for a stolen Chevy Suburban that was coming to the front of the school, that Beau Flynn would probably be passing guns to a student name of Lisa Fentress. Michaud “suggested” that some patrol officers offer support in case of trouble and to assist in effecting an arrest.

Thirty minutes later, Michaud was still at the listening post while uniformed patrol officers staked out the grounds of South Eugene High School where the exchange would soon take place.

At 12:10, a Chevy Suburban wagon pulled into an open space in front of the school. Quickly, police ran the wagon’s plates. They came back stolen. A few minutes later, Lisa Fentress appeared. She walked slowly to the car, glancing nervously around, then got in on the passenger side.

“Close in,” the cop in charge radioed.

Beau Flynn, the bright, sad boy, who had grown into a thin, handsome, still-baby-faced young man. Had it been the 1930’s, the time of the legendary gangsters whom Beau aspired to emulate, he could easily be known as “Baby Face” Flynn. And like his antecedents, Baby Face Nelson, Pretty Boy Floyd and John Dillinger, Beau Flynn got his kicks from robbing and stealing. The adrenaline rush, the real addiction to the criminal life, that came from the ever-present threat of the police chase.

“Beau Flynn, get out of the car and lie face down on the ground,” a police loudspeaker crackled.

Lisa quickly exited the car. After she did, Beau backed up, put the car into gear and floored the accelerator. It is doubtful that even
Car and Driver
had put the Suburban to the test that Beau did now.

Concerned that she might still have the weapons on her, and that she might bring them into the school with her, Lisa was immediately arrested. Upon searching her, police realized that the exchange had already taken place. Not only was Beau fleeing, he was armed and now considered dangerous.

In the listening post, the DNR clicked on as Mary received an incoming call. The caller was a gang wannabe named
Mark Darling
.

“Hello?” Mary answered.

“Who is this?” Mark Darling asked.

“Hello?” Mary repeated.

“Mary?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Beau there?”

“No.”

“Hey, what color is the Suburban they got?”

“Blue.”

“They’re chasing it down Eighteenth.”

“Huh?”

“I said they’re chasing it down Eighteenth.”

“He’s in it!”

“Who is?”

“Beau.”

“The cops are chasing it down Eighteenth. It’s on the scanner right now. He was sitting there when he saw it pass. He just now ran the plate number and it came up stolen.”

“It should come up a different plate. Damn!”

Beau had replaced the car’s plates with others, so it wouldn’t show up stolen.

“He’s in it,” Darling repeated.

“He is, huh?”