The Last Undercover

by Bob Hamer

  To maintain my cover story and in order to discourage any homosexual advances, I told Todd, “Body hair just turns me off.” Todd said he didn’t like body hair anywhere, except “pubic is fine, little bit of underarm is fine and that’s all I want. . . . So, really, I guess I ought to request twelve- and thirteen-year-olds and take it that by the time they’re fourteen, there could be a greater likelihood of hair.”

  Todd continued to press me for details of my “friend’s” trip. Again, I made up the details as we spoke, glad that I would have the opportunity to review the conversation in order to keep my facts straight for subsequent calls. My friend went with a group, I told him, but knew no one prior to the trip. I described individual rooms featuring king-size beds in a large, well-appointed hacienda atmosphere. When I said he traveled as recently as October, Todd was relieved to learn there was no police action resulting from the excursion.

  The one aspect of my work that has always troubled me is that almost all my efforts result in destruction rather than growth. I’m not an architect who can point to an edifice I designed; I’m not a writer who can pull my book from the shelf and display it to friends—well, until now, that is. The point is, my work, my arrests, often lead to destroyed families and shattered lives—oftentimes innocent lives.

  At some point in this investigation, the day would come when at least two children, an ex-wife, parents, and loved ones were going to see on the evening news or read in their morning paper that their dad, their friend, their son, their ex-spouse had been arrested for planning to have sex with boys. It would be devastating to have to face the neighbors, the children at school, the friends at church or at the market. Yet, time and time again, men and women are willing to subject their loved ones to such humiliation because their desires to commit crimes outweigh their love of decency.

  Make no mistake: I know my work may make the streets safer. I was honored to carry a badge and aid the incarceration of those who seek to destroy the fabric of society . . . but I still have feelings for the innocent casualties of my work—especially the families of those who choose to step outside the boundaries the law imposes on society.

  Our next “three-way” was on December 19. David enjoyed making a sexual reference to our group calls, and I enjoyed the overwhelming evidence I collected with each conversation. Todd’s office phone had the capability to make the conference call, so he always made the connection. There was some delay in getting us all connected on this particular evening and I joked it gave David enough time to turn on his recorder. Mine was already running.

  David complained about the six-degree-below-zero temperature he was experiencing in Chicago, and I was reminded that I needed to move the trip along for fear he might take advantage of one of his free flights and visit me in warm Southern California. I was not prepared to entertain a pedophile for much more than the time it would take to arrest him, so I hoped to redirect the conversation away from his complaints about his local weather.

  Early in the call, David dropped an unexpected bombshell. The FBI was still attempting to fully identify those we were targeting and based upon all David said, we assumed he was an international flight attendant. However, David revealed he only flew part-time, enough to maintain his flying privileges with American Airlines, and that his full-time occupation was as a psychologist. He mentioned having a degree in psychology at the Miami conference but never said anything about practicing. As it turned out, though, in addition to working at several Chicago-area hospitals, he did consulting work for the Department of Health and Human Resources in Washington, D.C. In a way, David was a Fed.

  We were still trying to attract more passengers for our Mexican excursion. David said neither of the two friends he invited to join us on the trip would be coming. I expressed my concern—genuine—that the friends might object to the actual purpose of our trip and contact law enforcement. David assured us they were not concerned with the activity itself, just the timing. They would be available for a future trip. Todd was pleased when I said I contacted Jeff Devore and he was interested. Todd said he “hung around him quite a bit in New York” and hoped Jeff would join us. David had not yet contacted Paul, but said he would. When I suggested Bob, the attorney from Atlanta, both Todd and David opposed contacting him but never clearly explained why.

  Their opposition raised another problem with the investigation. Obviously, the FBI wanted to snare as many as would commit to the scenario, since it was our position that all members of NAMBLA, especially those who attended the conference, were predisposed to have sex with minors. But, as the undercover agent, I could not overtly go against the wishes of Todd and David without possibly alienating them from participation. I also needed to be careful that my greed would not result in someone sensing the sting, then alerting all the others and blowing the investigation.

  Both Todd and David were having problems connecting with the undercover travel agency and had not yet sent their deposits. I offered to assist in contacting the agency. In an effort to get David to commit to the type of sex acts he wanted on the trip, I asked him what he was expecting. With a hearty laugh, he said, “Warm weather.” I offered that Todd wanted anal intercourse, and David responded, “That would be nice, but not necessary . . . icing on the cake, but I’m not holding my breath.” Todd interrupted to say that he didn’t believe a typical ten- to twelve-year-old could “accommodate that.” David, however, didn’t see that as a problem.

  The Los Angeles and San Diego offices of the Bureau were still determining how to handle the prosecution of the case. My San Diego case agent and I met with Assistant United States Attorney Anne Perry, and we were awaiting a decision by her office as to whether they would prosecute. The San Diego U.S. Attorney’s office had only done a limited number of travel cases, and even though Anne was extremely eager to prosecute, her bosses expressed some reluctance in assuming the prosecutorial lead. Los Angeles, on the other hand, regularly prosecuted travel cases and was fully supportive of our efforts. It was another administrative issue I was hoping to avoid. I was the undercover agent in three separate operations—one with national security implications—and had little time or patience for bureau-cratic haggling. In fact, by now you may have figured out that even if I had only one case I was working on alternate weekends, administrative procedures would not be high on my priority list.

  As I was awaiting a prosecutorial decision, I was trying to coordinate Todd and David’s commitment to fly into either Los Angeles or San Diego. Todd had already made reservations to fly into L.A. The boat would supposedly leave Los Angeles for a four-hour journey, making a stop in San Diego, prior to heading for the ultimate destination at Ensenada, three hours south of San Diego. I convinced him the shortened travel time on the boat made San Diego the preferred launching spot, and Todd agreed to change his reservation to San Diego. David said he could use his connections to get us reservations at a Hilton Hotel the night before the scheduled departure.

  Everything was falling into place. The trip had developed into a team effort, with each of us accepting certain responsibilities. A conspiracy completely orchestrated by the undercover agent may result in a legal collar, but it always gives rise to defense arguments that the client was entrapped, coerced, or an unwilling participant in a government sting operation that smacked of “gross governmental misconduct.” So far, Todd and David were willing and equal partners in our travel-for-sex conspiracy, and that was just the way I wanted it.

  35

  SWARMING TO THE BAIT

  NAMBLA prided itself on maintaining the privacy of its membership list. Even the letter praising my “courageous step” for joining the organization stated, “Be assured that our records are confidential and will not be released to anyone.” Neither David nor Todd had Steve Irvin’s contact information. Steve and I had not exchanged e-mail addresses or phone numbers while in Miami. On December 20, I took a long shot at trying to obtain the information from Peter Herman. Although, I had not sent Christmas cards nor had S
teve Irvin agreed to help on the privacy pamphlet project, I e-mailed Peter the following:

  Peter,

  Hope your holidays are going well. I sent my cards out and hope they are received in the spirit they were sent. It always saddens me to know that so many of our brothers are there because of archaic beliefs. Someday society will be enlightened.

  At the conference, Steve from Pittsburgh offered to help me with the privacy pamphlet and I lost his email address. I know you don’t like to give those out but could you either give me his address or give him mine. I’d really like to connect with him so we could finish up this project.

  Peter took the bait and two days later responded with Steve’s e-mail address, a major coup.

  David reported on his promise to attempt to call Paul with a December 20 e-mail. It was really pretty humorous.

  Howdy from the Frozen Tundra of the Upper Midwest!

  Not sure if I should laugh or cry over my attempt to speak to Paul. Hope this translates onto paper. I called shortly after 6:00 pm EST & got his father (he identified himself as his father—this is an important point). I of course asked for Paul & was told he was not home but to call back later that “afternoon.” I pointed out that it was already after 6:00 pm & could he be more specific when to reach Paul. He finally stated that I should call back in 90 minutes. He then asked me who I was & I identified myself as Dr. Mayer. “Father” then asked what kind of doctor I was, stating that Paul was not under a doctor’s care. I stated it was confidential & would not discuss the matter. We went through that scenario two times. Not pretty. I was able to intimidate him & he took my # stating he would have Paul call me as soon as he got home. End of Part One. Part Two:

  In less than ten minutes my cell phone rang with caller ID showing the number in Florida. “Yeah!” I thought to myself . . . wrong! MUMSIE calling. This nasty woman starts screaming at me that “my husband Paul has been dead for two years” & why am I calling! I must admit that she threw me for a second, however I made a rapid recovery . . . in between her screaming at me I asked why “Father” stated he (Paul) would be home in 90 minutes, etc. That shut her up for three seconds . . . then she started asking what kind of doctor I am, etc. I again stated that it was confidential; she then screamed at me that her husband is dead & don’t ever call again. CLICK. End of Part Two.

  Either of you care to place a bet if Paul got the message? I am fearful that Mums is making his life miserable over the calls. However, there must be some way to rescue this guy. Daddy—how about the same technique for Paul as for Pittsburgh? Can you ask Sam for help? By the way, you can tell Sam that Peter’s email address is on the web site. I think Paul should go live with Daddy on his estate; I am sure you must have a spare bungalow on the property. Maybe he can be the pool boy?

  Not a problem for me to mail you a check. Just let me know the amount. I will also need full name, address, etc. (aren’t we just getting intimate!). By the way, as of today’s mail I still have not heard a word from [the undercover travel agency].

  Daddy—another project for you. Could you go to the Hilton Hotel web site (which will also include all other property such as DoubleTree, Hampton Inns, etc) & let me know which hotel we want for the one night—I do not know SD © all. Did not know if we wanted to stay © airport, in the city, by the water, etc. Select the hotel & I will make the arrangements.

  Nothing else to report © this time. If by some miracle Paul calls I will call both of you. Don’t hold your breath! Also, if Paul does call, do you want me to give him both of your #’s or just have me be the contact?

  Speak to you both next Monday evening if not sooner. Merry Christmas.

  On December 27 David e-mailed to say he had still not heard from the undercover travel agency. He also asked, “Daddy, any word from any of the others: The First Lady? Kathy Bates’ son, Paul? David of Miami (could you send me his e-mail? I will also try to convince him to join us). How is the hotel search going?”

  When I checked my undercover post office box later in the day, I was pleased to find a letter from David containing one more nail for his coffin: a personal check in the amount of $620.

  Todd set up another three-way conversation that evening, a call that would continue to bury David and Todd in the criminal conspiracy. Todd spoke of his desire to bring the “boys” back with him. David finally received the application from the undercover travel agency and would forward the completed application to me. He also would make reservations for us to stay at the San Diego Airport Hilton on February 11, the night before our maiden voyage.

  As we discussed other potential travelers, David referred to David R. Busby as a “slut,” but that apparently didn’t preclude him from being invited. David said he would contact Steve Irvin. And as if Mexico were not enough, Todd and David initiated plans for a Costa Rica trip after Ensenada. They also wanted me to ask “Sean,” the name I made up for my imaginary friend, what gifts and trinkets they should bring the boys to insure appropriate sexual favors.

  Todd and I spoke briefly on December 28. Most noteworthy was the fact he said Steve Irvin approached them at Miami about going on a trip. I was unaware of that fact and was glad Steve followed up on my suggestion during our brief encounter at the conference. When I asked Todd if he knew of men other than those who were in Miami that might interested, he reiterated the mantra of NAMBLA: “I don’t know anybody of like mind but know that there are plenty of us out there. . . . It’s not like you can put a sign on the front yard: ‘Hey, all BLs, call me up. Let’s go on a trip.’”

  On December 30, David e-mailed me to say he was leaving that evening for Frankfurt, Germany, and had e-mailed David R. Busby and Steve Irvin. His December 27 e-mail to Steve was brief and somewhat circumspect.

  Just a quick reminder that we met in Miami a couple of months ago © a conference. You asked me to let you know if I was planning on any holidays. Three of us from the conference are planning a trip to Mexico in February. You are more than welcome to join us—it will be for four days. If you are interested, let me know; I can give you more details. Cost is around $620.00 including lodging and meals.

  Steve responded to David’s e-mail a few days later.

  Sure I remember you. Yes, I would definitely be interested. Thanks for asking. I really didn’t get a chance to visit a lot when we were at the conference. I guess I should have just taken a day off work, and not rushed my trip. . . . I start my sabbatical from work in February. . . . Anyhow, thanks again, David, for asking. Since I didn’t really talk a lot to anyone I thought maybe you wouldn’t write. I’m just overall pretty quiet. Smiled when I got the email!

  David forwarded me Steve’s response, and we began preparation for another traveler. Steve’s primary concern was the cost of airfare. Since we had set up the boat trip to begin in L.A. with a stopover in San Diego, it provided a perfect alternative. It allowed the travelers to choose their departing locale. Since flights into LAX were generally less expensive than those into San Diego, each could travel to either city. By providing a choice, it may have also minimized any suspicions that this was a sting. From an evidentiary standpoint, it also added a free-will element to the decision each traveler made.

  The same day I received David’s e-mail with Steve’s forward attached, I e-mailed Steve, setting out the details of the trip and providing my undercover cell phone number, suggesting we speak over the phone rather than trade e-mails. Steve responded with his cell number and a home number, setting in motion our next traveler: the special education teacher from Pittsburgh.

  Steve’s e-mail provided valuable evidence for predisposition. The e-mail confirmed what he told me at the conference and what the FBI suspected was happening at these gatherings: Steve had traveled previously and arranged that travel through a contact at the NAMBLA conference.

  I’ll call you later today. I just keep smiling! Really looking forward to the trip. Went to Santo Domingo several years ago with someone from the conference and had a great time. One of the best times of m
y life. I looked on the computer under cheaptickets and found flights to San Diego for $250. Smile! When I talk to you, we can discuss sending the $620. I am so happy I was invited along. I was quiet at the conference and then the way I planned the trip it was pretty fast. Didn’t really get to know anyone very well, but thank you!

  In the morning, on New Year’s Eve, Steve called me and left a voice mail message. That afternoon, I returned the call. My contact with Steve at the conference had been minimal. I remembered him as tall, thin, quiet, and in his mid-forties. On the phone, he displayed a gentle nature I’m sure made him well suited to teach special education. He reminded me of Sam Lindblad, who also taught special education prior to his conviction. Did both these men have a genuine love for mentally, physically, and emotionally handicapped children, or were these youngsters just easier to manipulate and victimize?

  Steve last attended a NAMBLA conference in 1988, where he met Bob Rhodes. Rhodes’s name was known to me, having been featured in the movie Chicken Hawk and on several Web sites discussing NAMBLA. He was also named in the Jeffrey Curley wrongful death civil lawsuit. A rotund individual, I thought of Rhodes as a “central casting” pedophile; he looked like someone you’d want to keep an eye on, should he show up at a park or playground. I didn’t remember Steve in that way. Steve said he and Rhodes went to Santo Domingo and had a “great time . . . at a bed and breakfast . . . and got boys there.” Steve’s experiences sounded similar to those shared by David. Steve had already checked into airline prices and was “definitely interested” in traveling with “like-minded people.” Again, in the almost providential way this case was coming together, Steve was to begin a one-year sabbatical from his teaching responsibilities in February. Had Todd, David, and I chosen a January weekend, Steve would have been unable to join us.