Dead Men Talking

by Christopher Berry-Dee

  I have never discussed this with anyone before, and I will not discuss it with you now. This is very valuable information to me. Your British readers would be very interested in my appearing before the Queen. If you send me $500.00 I will give you the exclusive story, which you can sell to the media and make a lot of money.

  Three days later I downloaded a press cutting of this Royal Command Performance from the internet, posted it to JR and politely declined his generous offer. I already knew that backstage JR had chatted to Judy Garland and had told British actress Gracie Fields that he planned to study for the priesthood.

  With that bit of trivia out of the way, it is known that Robinson was a motivated youngster whose ability didn’t match his drive. He told his peers that he was planning to become a priest and to someday work in Rome, but no one, probably not even John himself, knows whether this was what he truly wanted to do with his life or this was just his way of getting attention. Anyway, maybe the facts speak for themselves: as a freshman at Quigley Preparatory Seminary, in downtown Chicago, he was a lacklustre student and a discipline problem. He did not return to Quigley for his second year of study and it is believed that he was denied admission as a sophomore, due either to his academic or behavioural shortcomings.

  After high school, in 1961, Robinson went to the Morton Junior College, in Cicero. He met Nancy Jo Lynch and they married in 1964. After 41 years of domestic purgatory, they divorced on 25 February 2005, this Latter-Day Saint Monica now aware of her philandering husband’s many notable shortcomings, one of which was that he had never done an honest day’s work in his life.

  Initially, the Robinsons moved to Kansas City, Missouri, where he attended a trade school to learn the radiology profession. True to form, JR never finished his training but this did not prevent him from getting a job at a children’s hospital where he papered the walls of his office with fake diplomas and certificates. From his lack of skills with the infant patients his colleagues suspected that he was either a fake or one of the most incompetent technicians ever to practise his craft. Although hospital staff remembered him as being a nice enough young man they knew that no way was he a certified technician. Josephine Bermel, who worked with Robinson, said that he simply couldn’t cope with young patients: ‘We had to teach him how to do things properly,’ she said. This downright incompetence cost him his first job. He was just 21 at the time and his wife had recently given birth to their first child.

  Undaunted by this setback, and using his phoney diplomas and certificates, JR soon found work as an X-ray technician at a medical practice in Kansas City. Here, he was employed by retired Brigadier General Dr Wallace Harry Graham, who for many years had been the personal White House physician to no less eminent patients than the former US President Harry S Truman and his wife, Elizabeth. Although, as Dr Graham himself told the New York Times Magazine in 1964, ‘The Trumans were healthy. I felt like the country’s most disemployed doctor.’

  In the spring of 1944, as a member of the First Hospital Unit of the First Army, Captain (later Colonel) Wallace Graham had waded ashore at ‘Easy Red’ Omaha Beach, four days after D-Day. With the battle raging just a few miles ahead, he treated the wounded in the thick of battle and, by nightfall, his tents, with 400 beds, had taken in close to 900 of the wounded. Moving across France and Belgium, then into Germany, his unit saw some of the war’s bitterest engagements, including the Battle of the Bulge, where he was wounded. He was awarded the Bronze Star, and other decorations, as well as medals from France, Britain, the Netherlands and Belgium.

  While in the White House, where he had a ground floor suite of offices filled with the latest in medical technology, he also treated some of the senior staffers, and later became a temporary Major General of the Air Force. He continued to look after the Trumans in their hometown of Independence, Missouri. When the 70-year-old President was rushed to Kansas City Hospital for emergency surgery in 1954, it was Dr Graham who removed his gallbladder and appendix. He had earned his medical degree at Harvard Medical School. He developed a lifelong interest in botany and also boxed. It seems that the doctor’s only misjudgement throughout his entire, distinguished life was taking on John Robinson.

  Quite how Robinson managed to con his way into working for Dr Graham as a lab technician and officer manager is a question for another day, but the doctor was patently no fool. Dr Graham later recalled that he had been impressed with Robinson’s achievements as an Eagle Scout and his ‘extensive credentials’ in radiology. Nevertheless, highly regarded in the community, Dr Graham was a trusting man so he turned out to be an easy mark for a pathological and plausible liar like Robinson.

  Soon after taking up his new appointment with Dr Graham, John made a somewhat astute discovery, which developed into an abiding, lifelong attachment to the buoyant pleasures to be had from fleecing almost everyone he came across. The upshot was that he developed the disagreeable technique of making himself wealthy at the expense of others whom he made extremely poor – something the banks have been trying to do for decades. From then on, and to this day, dishonest thoughts occupied every space in John’s head; he pushed honesty completely to the back of his mind.

  Robinson started his criminal activities in 1967, but he soon came unstuck when he was placed on probation for three years for embezzling $33,000 from 57-year-old Dr Graham. JR started by stealing and taking liberties in the practice’s medical office. He boasted to friends and colleagues about a house he had bought. In addition, he engaged in sexual liaisons with both office staff and patients – having sex with one patient in the X-ray lab by pretending his wife was terminally ill and unable to satisfy him sexually.

  But how did JR find the money to buy the house? The answer is simple; he drained the practice’s bank account to the extent that just six months after he had been taken on, a bewildered and intractably confused Dr Graham was unable to pay Christmas bonuses to his staff. This unexplained loss of revenue prompted an audit of the practice’s books and accusatory fingers all pointed towards Robinson being the culprit. JR was arrested and marched away in handcuffs feigning sincerity and remorse, praying that his hand-wringing, accompanied by an ‘I’m sorry’, would get him nothing more than a slap on the wrist from the criminal justice system. And he was correct.

  In 1969 Robinson was convicted of the theft. Because it was his first offence and, pledging restitution, a Jackson County judge exercised leniency, sentencing him to three years probation. Dr Graham never saw a cent of the money JR had stolen from him.

  * * *

  JR’s next career move was as the manager of a TV rental company. He soon tuned in to stealing merchandise from this employer too. When he was exposed, the company did not prosecute him, but sack him they most certainly did.

  Over the next decade Robinson was often in trouble with the police. But despite being on parole for most of this time he still managed to prosper. When asked about his initial meeting with Robinson, one employer said: ‘He gave a very good impression, well dressed, nice-looking… seemed to know a lot, very glib and a good speaker. He defrauded tens of thousands of dollars from various companies to help him along the way.’

  Robinson? I wouldn’t leave him alone in my yard to wash my truck. That sumbitch would steal the car, the hose, the faucet, and carry away as much fuckin’ water as he could.

  Jeff Tietz, former Kansas City police officer.

  Giving credit where credit is due, if John Robinson was anything, he was pathologically persistent and remarkably evasive. For the next twenty years he bounced from job to job, managing to keep out of prison by crossing his fingers and jurisdictional boundaries, and convincing employers not to press charges when he was found out.

  In 1977, JR bought a large, waterfront house. It was set in four acres of prime real estate at Pleasant Valley Farms, an affluent and prosperous neighbourhood in Johnson County, Kansas. By now, he and Nancy had four children and it was here, in picturesque, rural surroundings, that the confidence trickster and embezzler
formed a company called Hydro-Gro Inc. The firm ostensibly dealt in hydroponics, a method – as any home-grown cannabis enthusiast will know – of growing plants using mineral nutrient solutions, heat and, instead of soil, a hell of a lot of water.

  JR’s home-grown publicity literature (a glossy, 64-page brochure) portrayed him as a ‘sought-after lecturer’, ‘author’ and ‘pioneer in hydroponics’. The latter claim would have certainly come as a surprise to the ancients, as the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Aztec’s Floating Gardens of Mexico and those of the Chinese are far earlier examples of hydroponic culture. Indeed, Egyptian hieroglyphic records, dating back several hundred years BC, describe the growing of plants in water, so hydroponics is hardly a new method of growing plants. But by the 1970s, it wasn’t just scientists and analysts, many of whom worked for NASA, who were involved in hydroponics. The many virtues of hydroponic growing began to attract traditional farmers and eager hobbyists, but John E Robinson was not, and this will come as no surprise, listed among them.

  Hydro-Gro Inc was, of course, a bogus set-up, and in its development he swindled a friend out of $25,000. The man had invested because he hoped to get a better investment return to pay for his dying wife’s medical care.

  With his phoney CV in radiography and hydroponics richly embroidered in merit and distinction, this devious Jack-of-all-trades-and-master-of-none managed to engineer his appointment to the board of governors of a workshop for disabled people. He had held this position for little more than two months when this self-proclaimed philanthropist, with an almost religious desire to help the developmentally disabled, was named ‘Man of the Year’ for his work with the handicapped.

  Amidst the glare of much publicity, the Kansas City Times proclaimed Robinson’s virtues and, at a special dinner and presentation ceremony, JR was given a grandiose gesture of approbation in the form of a certificate signed by the mayor and a Missouri state senator.

  According to Robinson, when he was invited to this dinner he had ‘no idea’ that they would be honouring him. However, feigning surprise when the winner was announced, he humbly accepted what amounted to a rigged award as members of the organisation’s board sat, with their jaws on the floor, in stunned silence. Were the world just, he would have enjoyed universal acclaim, but for various heartbreakingly complicated reasons it was not to be.

  A short time later, however, the meritorious award was exposed as having been obtained fraudulently. It had been granted as a result of faked letters of commendation received at City Hall, all written by none other than the ‘Man of the Year’ himself, John E Robinson Sr.

  Thing went from bad to worse for JR when the city fathers, whose names he had forged on the letters of recommendation, read about the event in the local press. One man was outraged because on ‘his’ letter supporting Robinson, his name had even been spelt incorrectly. The Kansas City Times, stung by the scam, took its revenge by exposing him two weeks later as a fraud. His children were ridiculed at school and his wife, who says today that her husband had been unfaithful to her for at least twenty years of their marriage, was reluctant to show her face in public. But how did John react? One might have thought that had he had the right ingredients he would have concocted a potion to make himself invisible. The truth, however, was that JR, a fake as genuine as a hooker’s smile, couldn’t have cared less.

  * * *

  By now the reader will have come to the inescapable conclusion that Mr Robinson is a disagreeable fellow and not a man to trust, least of all the type to enter into any form of agreement with. It came as no surprise to this author when JR penned a letter, dated 20 February 2008, demanding that, ‘Before I enter into any further correspondence with you, I want $400,000, although that amount may be adjusted depending on need. My attorney will control all information and distribution of funds. Don’t blow smoke! I don’t have time for meaningless delays. I will await word from you.’

  In 1980 Robinson was given the position of Director of Personnel by another company, and very soon he homed in, like a heat-seeking missile, on his client’s chequebook and money, selflessly using the former to direct quite a lot of the latter into his own bank account. After laundering $40,000 into PSA, a paper company he owned, JR yet again found himself placed on probation, this time for five years.

  Between 1969 and 1991, John Robinson was convicted four times for embezzlement and theft, earning himself the notable distinction of being barred for life by the Securities and Exchange Commission from engaging in any kind of investment business. Of course, some of his thefts were minor – he lost his job with the Mobil Corporation for pinching $300 in postage stamps – while others were a tad more significant.

  He had no real employment, unless you consider figuring out ways of scamming people out of their money to be real employment.

  District Attorney Paul Morrison – Robinson’s murder trial.

  Avoiding financial castration by the skin of his teeth, Robinson soldiered on unfettered and undeterred, founding another firm, Equi-Plus, to add to his impressive portfolio. This newcomer to the Robinson stable specialised in ‘management consultancy’, and was very soon engaged by Back Care Systems, a company which ran seminars on the treatment of back pain… and give the company a pain, John surely did.

  To keep this brief, Equi-Plus, aka John Robinson, was awarded a contract to prepare a package that included a marketing plan, printed publicity material and promotional videos, which advised the public on how to successfully resolve back pain. However, what Equi-Plus actually provided was a string of inflated, in most cases bogus, invoices and little else. Once again, a criminal investigation was started into the business activities of the energetic JR, who responded by producing a series of faked affidavits, all of which attested to the legitimacy of the invoices submitted to Back Care Systems.

  While this investigation continued, this slippery eel founded Equi-II, an Overland Park corporation again run by Robinson who, at the time, described himself as a ‘consultant in medical, agricultural and charitable ventures’. And it was while he was at the helm of this new outfit that he navigated himself into a sphere of activities far more sinister than embezzlement and fraud.

  With some $40,000 of stolen funds neatly stashed away, JR acquired an apartment in Olathe, a city south of Kansas City. Here, in this most agreeable of extra-marital climates, he was able to enjoy sexual affairs with at least two women, one of whom is quoted as saying, ‘John kind of swept me off my feet. He treated me like a queen and always had money to take me to nice restaurants and hotels.’

  Well done, John, but there is no such thing as a free lunch. Retribution loomed on the horizon for the thieving and libidinous Robinson. The theft of the money resulted in his being convicted and, given his criminal record, this time he faced a possible prison sentence of seven years. However, he escaped with having to spend only a couple of months behind bars and, once more, we find John placed on probation, this time for five years.

  John Robinson took away from our family our oldest daughter that we all loved so much. After she disappeared, my wife was a changed woman. A big part of her was ripped away.

  William ‘Bill’ Godfrey – Paula’s father in 2003

  In 1984, an attractive, dark-haired young woman, named Paula Godfrey, went to work for JR as a sales rep at Equi-II after graduating from Olathe North High School. She was told by her new boss that she was going to be sent to Texas to attend a training course paid for by the company. Robinson collected Paula from her parents’ home in Overland Park to drive her to the airport. Her family never saw her again.

  Having heard nothing from their daughter for several days, Paula’s parents became anxious and, eventually, they contacted the Overland PD to report her missing. The police questioned Robinson, but when he professed ignorance of Paula’s whereabouts they went away satisfied with what he had told them.

  Not long afterwards, the police located a letter bearing Paula Godfrey’s signature which began: ‘By the time you read this I
’ll be long gone. I haven’t decided on Cleveland, Chicago or Denver, oh well.’ In the rest of the letter, Paula seemed to be saying that she was perfectly fine but didn’t want to remain in touch with her family. This neatly folded letter had been found in the bottom of a briefcase belonging to one Irving ‘Irv’ Blattner, an ex-con associate of Robinson, who had been arrested on an entirely unrelated matter. The one-pager was a photocopy and accompanied an original letter from JR addressed to Blattner in an Equi-II business envelope.

  After reading the letter, the police closed their investigation, however, Paula Godfrey was to become JR’s first murder victim; the truth of what happened to her would not come out until 2003.

  It seems that Paula, an excellent ice skater, had got into some kind of boyfriend trouble, with Robinson assisting by loaning her money. For his part, Irving Blattner helped her find places to stay in Belton, on the Missouri side of the state line, where her boyfriend couldn’t find her. One night, Robinson drove to a Belton motel where the young woman was staying and, for reasons known only to the tight-lipped JR, he hit her in the head with a lamp while Blattner blocked the doorway so she couldn’t escape. Her body has never been found.

  Notwithstanding this, in pursuit of his new vocation as a philanthropic helper of young women, JR approached the Truman Medical Center in Independence, a small city in Montgomery County. Here, he spoke to social workers, telling them that he, together with some other local businessmen, had formed ‘Kansas City Outreach’. This, he explained while patronisingly peering over the top of his glasses, was a charitable organisation, which would provide young unmarried mothers with housing and career training, along with a babysitting service. The Truman Medical Center smelled a rat. They refused to help this Patron Saint of Lost Causes, so this ‘Saint Jude’ pitched the same story to Birthright, an organisation which gave help to young pregnant women, who, in turn, pointed him in the direction of Hope House, a refuge for single mums.