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A quick warning, this series contains adult language and content. Joe Hunt hadn't slept the night before. He tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling, he listened to Brooke breathe. It had been almost three months since Joe turn Ron Levon's five million dollars into 14 million through trading and almost two months since Levin reinvested the 14 million into a shopping center and doubled it, almost 30 million. And Joe hadn't seen a cent. The BBC was sinking without more money and fast.
He decided he'd visit Levin as soon as it was morning by seven thirty a.m., he was pounding on heaven's door. Levin's eyes were bloodshot when he opened the door, he was wearing silk pajama bottoms and his robe was hanging open, quit pounding. I have neighbors, you know, I want my money.
Ron Joe pushed his way past Levin into the living room or paperwork, a contract, anything that proves my share of ownership of the profits from my work.
Levin was still standing in the foyer, holding the door open, letting the cold air in. I'm waiting on my attorney. You know how slow lawyers are.
Bullshit, Joe shouted. Joe almost never raised his voice, but he was tired of Levin stalling. You think you're the only one? I've got problems of my own. This Joe knew. The L.A. County District Attorney's Office filed 10 counts of grand theft against Levin for various shady dealings over the past few years. He was looking at eight years in state prison if convicted. And you know how much money I've spent on lawyers to get me out of this mess?
Levin asked. He poured himself a scotch. It's only seven thirty in the morning and Levon's already in it. Joe thought he decided to try a softer approach. Ron? He began. I'm sorry for shouting. I'm sure you can understand my predicament. I'm running a company that relies on me to provide for people, but Ron just scoffed. If you ask me for that money one more time, I'll keep every cent, he said. His glass down on the coffee table, across the living room to the front door, leverne through the door, open so hard Joe thought he heard the wall crack.
Now if you'll kindly get the fuck out of my house. OK, Joe thought. If that's how Levin wants to play, Joe glared at Levin and stormed out of the duplex.
Jack Friedman, please. Joe is back in his office. He threw his briefcase down on his desk as he shifted the telephone receiver to his other ear. He was holding for Jack Friedemann his contact at the brokerage firm where he traded Ron Levin's money. Joe noticed Dean lurking by the door. It was still early. Joe waved him in and put the call on speaker. Joe gestured for Dean to close the door.
This is Frieman. How are you, Jack? How you been?
Joe made small talk for a bit, waiting for the right time to make his move and ask about the 14 million.
Hey, did you guys ever do that story on traders, story on traders?
What the hell is he talking about? Joe can only guess what kind of lie Levin must have told his broker. Joe thought it best to play along. Yes, we did the story.
So when did you learn Levin's account was a real hello?
Yes, I knew the whole time. Anyway, Freeman, great to hear from you, I'm getting another call. Got to go. Deane's eyes were wide. Wait, does this mean there was no money? I don't know. He picked up the phone and dialed again. Go for. I just got off the phone with Jack Friedman. He seems to think your account is phony. What the fuck, Ron? What's he talking about? Through the receiver, Joe heard Levin pick up a second phone line and dial on speaker.
He heard someone get Friedman on the line.
This is what gave you the right to discuss my finances with other clients. What do you tell if you violated my confidentiality and you'll be hearing from my lawyer. You revealed accounting information to Joe about my money. Can I talk about your money? When there was no money, Joe had heard enough.
That fucker, he screwed us, Dean said. But Joe didn't believe either one of them, Levin or Friedman. Why would Levin call Friedemann on speaker like that? So I could hear the whole conversation. He was putting on a show, Ron Leverne set up that little performance was Freeman so he could keep all the profits for himself. I'm done playing his bullshit games. He doesn't take me seriously. Now it's time to show him how serious I can be.
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Lucky for everyone, Joe's got another trick up his sleeve. He always does ears Timothy Olyphant. A few weeks before Ron Levin gave Joe authority to trade on his five million dollar account, he was home making dinner. The local news was on television in the next room.
According to an investigation by The Wall Street Journal, commodities traders top a list of professionals in America with the highest levels of stress.
Poor little traders, Levin said out loud. His little dog, Kosher, wagged his tail in agreement. Levin had no sympathy for successful traders. They were smug and entitled, he thought the whole lot of them.
Here to talk about his experience on Wall Street is Jack Friedman, Clayton brokerage, Jackson.
On the trading floor, Levin stopped and looked at the young man speaking on his TV, said the kid was jabbering away, but Levin stopped listening. He was in the jittery throes of a damn good idea. This was going to be his best game yet. Levin grabbed a pen and paper. He wrote down Friedman's name and firm. A week later, Levin called Friedman at his office. Hi, I'm Ron Levin, an assignment editor for Network News.
I'm working on a story and would love to feature you and Clayton Brokerage. He described their upcoming five part documentary series on commodities trading. Levin explained they were planning to conduct paper trading on dummy accounts in real time. Would Klayton be interested in participating as one of the firms you'd be working with? A hotshot young trader named Joe Hunt? Levin said that Hunt would never know the account was fake so it wouldn't influence his trading style. After the experiment was all over, network news would send a camera crew over to his office so Freedman could explain how the trading went.
Sure, I'd be into that, Friedman said. It's free publicity for quite brokerage.
That night, Levin took Joe to dinner at Mr. Chow's restaurant in Beverly Hills. Levin told him that he liquidated an investment of his at E.F. Hutton and placed the money in a commodities account for Joe to trade five million two hundred and twenty five thousand one hundred eighty seven dollars and fifty cents. Levin thought an uneven number would sound more legit. Joe ate it up just like Mr. Chow's famous white chocolate cheesecake. Delicious.
While the abduction of Raises father didn't go exactly according to plan and Dean's plot to have Raza appointed conservator of his estate is going well. In early September 1984, a few weeks after the botched kidnapping, Raisen ban take a red eye from LAX to Heathrow raises tired. The plan to get his father's money was all talk back in L.A. But here in London, it's suddenly real. Rasor feels like he's aged 10 years. Just on the flight over, Ben tugs on, raises shirtsleeve and points to a shop near the gate.
Do they have a ton of booze in the duty free shop? I'll be right back. Raisa rolls his eyes. Ben has never been to Europe before and is treating this more like a vacation than a business trip. After a few minutes, Ben comes back hands full. OK, let's go. Ben hands his passport to the officer. He gets a hard look and a stamp, he looks around for Reza. He's not through yet. Ben starting to get nervous, no reason he should no one knows why they're here in the U.K., but he watches this raises stands at the customs booth and the officer talks with Raisa for longer than Ben feels is necessary.
Something about his visa then knew it was all too risky. They shouldn't be here.
He wills himself to think of anything other than Islamiyya. His dead body, Ben, clutches his bag from the duty free shop and tries to calm his nerves.
The power of attorney certificate is real. It's even notarized. This has nothing to do with race. His dad. Everything is fine. Ben watches as more officers approach Raisa and have him follow them to a doorway across the room. Ben follows raises been detained problems with his visa.
A few hours and several phone calls to the U.S. Embassy later raises Visa is approved, a bad start, but this can't deter them. Ben hugs his friend.
Let's just get out of here. They head towards baggage claim. When they arrive at their hotel, Raisa starts calling his contacts. He tries to take his mind off their stressful travel. But after a few days in London, they come up short. None of their leads turn up any UK bank accounts or useful information. All roads seem to point towards Eslami, a Swiss account.
The two head back to Heathrow and fly to Switzerland. Dean went to the Willshire Manning's Christmas party, held in a rec room of their apartment building. Joe was busy, but Dean was game for any party. One of the Willshire Manning security guards was there. Dean recognized him from the lobby. And I'll get you a drink, Dean, as the guard appears good. Jim Graham, he said as he took the beer from Dean. Jim was pretty hard to miss a five foot eight black guy with high cheekbones, chiseled features and an incredible physique.
How much time you spent on all that? Dean asked as he gestured to Jim's chest and arms. I left about six times a week, but my condo is what really works for me, and it keeps my mind right. Dean nodded and sipped his beer. How long have you been working at the Manning? I moved to L.A. from D.C. in September. I worked as a bodyguard. I protected some high profile clients in government. I played football in the NFL before that and held the Mr.
Universe title several years in a row before I was snatched up by the CIA. None of this would turn out to be true, but he didn't know it at the time. For now, Dean was impressed. You know who should meet this guy? I thought Joe should this guy is strong and disciplined. Dean thought Jim Graham was exactly the kind of muscle the BBC needed. Detective less Zula bangs on the door of Joe and Dean's apartment early one weekend in September 1984.
This is the police. We have a search warrant. Open up. If you don't open up right now, we're going to kick the door down. Evan Diker answers the door wearing sweatpants, no shirt. He squints at Zola like he's just woken up. Joe had asked Evan to stay at his apartment with his girlfriend, Brooke, while he was detained by the police.
The LAPD officers show Evan a warrant.
They begin sweeping the apartment. Burke comes out of her and Joe's bedroom in just a T-shirt.
Evan, don't tell them anything. Miss Roberts, if you help us out, we'll be out of your hair a lot faster. Zola says he's already got three men searching every room.
Zola pulls out his notebook. Do you have any papers or letters from Joe?
They're looking for writing samples and any other clues they might stumble upon. Joe refused to give him a sample of his handwriting in jail. Zola needs one to compare with the seven page to do list and notes. The police collect stacks of handwritten pages from Joe's bedroom. Evan looks nervous. Were you ever at a meeting where Joe told everyone he'd killed Ron Levin? Evan answers. Nope, very matter of factly. He asked Evan if he knows anything about leavens disappearance.
Evan shrugs and says he heard Levin disappeared or something.
Zola is annoyed by Evan's flippant dismissal. A man is dead and all Joe's lackeys are complicit in covering it up. We know what happened and we know what you did. And you'll be arrested and locked up, crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. Come back when you have real evidence.
The last person Dean expects to see Waltz into the BBC office on Wednesday morning is Joe Hunt.
Joe is wearing a crisp summer suit.
He looks surprisingly rested and content like he's just gotten back from vacation, not jail.
They had to release me. He sits on the edge of Dean's desk. Insufficient evidence. Joe smiles. I told you it was perfect.
I don't think we should discuss it here. Joe ignores him. Detective Zollars. Not a very smart man, Joe says.
He bragged that he told Zola to his face his work was shoddy. This has all been taking a toll on Dean Joe. I think we should not speak for a while. I'm glad you're out of jail, but I feel like I need to walk away. Joe sighs He looks at Dean like he's looking at a puppy. Dean readies himself for Joe's rebuttal, OK.
OK, this feels way too easy then joleen's and heavy, forcing Dean to look him in the eye. We're in this together, buddy, you and me, and whatever happens to me, I'm glad you're by my side. I know I can always count on you to be there for me. Dean's chest tightens. There's something unmistakable behind Joe's words. Menace, this is hard for Dean, Joe's been more than his best friend, he's been a mentor.
He will miss Joe dearly. But he knows he has to leave the news of Joe's release spreads, people are afraid for their lives, not only those who turn Joe in, but everyone in the BBC's orbit. Dave May carries a 38 special and Tomé sleeps with a 12 gauge shotgun by his bed. Rumors spread. Joe begins to suspect that his close allies are wavering and might break at any moment. Comparing work from home outfits with co-workers while video conferencing, while here's a secret we can keep between us, no one else will know that your dress pants actually feel like you're wearing yoga pants with Beda brands, dress, pant, yoga pants.
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Dean watched Joe Hunt hit each beer off the log from 50 feet away with a Swiss crossbow methodically down the road, one after another, each canfell without a miss. Joe brought Dean and a bunch of the guys to Soledad Canyon one Sunday afternoon for bonding and shooting practice, the canyon, 45 minutes north of Los Angeles, was made up of thousands of acres of ARED wilderness. It was quiet, secluded and Joe's favorite spot in the world.
Dean had been looking forward to this outing all week by you guys spend weekends taking tennis lessons and ballroom dancing in high school. Joe told the guys I spent my time hiking alone in these woods, learning to face whatever came along. Joe picked up a shotgun. He was in his element. He taught the guys how to aim and shoot. Even Jim Graham was impressed by Joe's skills with a firearm. Jim had been hanging out a lot with the boys ever since Dean introduced him to the BBC and Joe liked him.
After shooting, the boy sat around drinking beer and telling stories Joe told one Dean hadn't heard before. When Joe was 15, a Mexican gang banger tried to rob him. He pulled a switchblade. Joe was unarmed. They struggled. He wrestled the knife away from the gang banger, and then Joe stabbed him in the heart.
The boy sat there silent, unsure of how to respond. Dean wasn't sure if they were shocked by the story or debating whether it was true. Joe pulled a second case of beer from the trunk. Another round, boys. Ever since Dean brought Jim Graham into the BBC, there was a noticeable shift in Cho's behavior, not so much a shift in thought as a new glimpse into a side of Joe he'd never seen before a violent side. New weapons began appearing in Joe's office as often as new business equipment.
Joe but Jim, a bolt action, three 06 Winchester rifle and a 32 Beretta automatic. Jim taught Joe how to use nunchuck as well as Chinese stars. It was Joe's new Swiss crossbow shotgun that instigated that afternoon's outing with the boys. It was the type of thing that a long time ago would have made Dean uncomfortable, but not anymore.
His infatuation with Joe made it exciting. Joe started preaching his piracy principle. If you're the captain of a ship and you need provisions for your crew, commandeer a weaker ship and take theirs. One man's attacker is another man's hero. Joe's message was simple. If you're going to pursue a long term goal, you had to be prepared for the consequences. Sometimes that meant someone had to get hurt, and sometimes that meant someone had to die. Dean understood that.
But he never imagined the lengths that Joe was willing to go. Special Agent Oscar Bridling pours himself a cup of coffee in the break room. It looks like sludge and smells about as good. He asks the officer next to him where the half and half is. It's missing. Tiss the officer. Let's see if you can find it.
Laughter All around, his colleagues are doubtful bridling can crack his latest seemingly impossible case. Oscar's got a murder case, but there's no body. It involves millions of dollars, but there's no money. It was done by the Ayatollah, but there's no suspects.
Good luck with that, Braitling.
If 22 years in the line of duty have taught bridling anything, it's how to put up with this sort of shit. He's fifty six feet tall, attractive and slim. The only thing that gives away his age is his graying hair. The criminal investigator recently wrapped up a massive six month long auto theft case. He finally enjoyed a breather until he got assigned this missing persons case with no body and not many clues beyond a name. Hidayat Eslami Annia. In the months since as Lomani, his disappearance, every lead has come to a dead end.
But today, bridling finally catches a break. He gets a call from a friend of luminesce, I know this Swiss banker, his name's Liam. Some guy showed up the other day pretending he represented Islamiyya Son Disposer flashes Liam. Some documents that say Reza Aslan, media has the rights to all his father's assets, you know, power of attorney. He wants to withdraw 100000 bucks from the old man's account. My buddy Liam's suspicious. So he calls me up.
I tell him I stole this guy. The man on the phone pauses.
I know a guy I'd Lumbini. I've known him a long time and he'd never give his son control of Jack shit.
Olga Vasquez was Hidayat Eslami, Ania's girlfriend. They were an unlikely couple. Olga was only 25 years old, half a Dietze age. The young secretary was raised in a strict Catholic family in Puerto Rico. They both spoke little English, but it was the only language the couple had in common. Olga metadata through friends at a bar. They had drinks and she was smitten. That night they moved in together. Shortly after, Olga Vazquez was the first to report a diet missing back in late July.
She called the San Francisco Police Department and was passed off to bridling and she told him everything she knew. After bridling gets the tip about the Swiss banker he calls Olga, do you have any way of knowing where Hidayat was last April 14th? That was the date the power of attorney certificate was signed between Hedayat and Raisa. Olga checks her calendar and says she knows exactly where he was.
He was with me in Mexico visiting my friends.
Reiling quickly obtains documentation from Customs to corroborate Hedayat girlfriend's story. He moves into action in the Swiss bank, receives the following telegram by court order October 18th, 1984. Raisa Islamia is no longer conservator of Hedayat. Eslami is a state do not release funds to him letter and documents to follow Special Agent Oscar bridling.
On January 24th, 1984, Ron Reagan pleaded not guilty at his arraignment. His parents, Carol and Marty, put up their house to cover the seventy five thousand dollar bail to keep Ron out of jail. Leavens lawyer fought for his right to a speedy trial. Then Levin did everything in his power to delay it. Levin always thrived on the game of getting away with things, and he hated to get caught. He was livid at the criminal charges filed against him.
He planned on suing the city of Beverly Hills for 40 million dollars. Levin boasted to friends that he looked forward to taking the city to court. It was true that Ron needed cash as badly as Joe. He was just far more creative, getting it with the threat of jail time hanging over his head. Levin set out on a month long escapade of financial shenanigans. As wild as he could conjure, even his creditors had trouble unraveling his scams. He opened accounts at Fidelity Investments in Boston under two bogus companies, and he deposited multiple phony checks.
Then he threatened to sue the firm over uncollected monies on a fake check he deposited in one of the accounts. Fidelity paid him seventy thousand dollars to go away. Next, leaving open an American Express gold card for the company in question. He went on a shopping spree and maxed it out at forty thousand dollars. Now, Levin needed money for legal fees. The last person he wanted hounding him for money was Joe Hunt. Lucky for Levin, Joe had backed off a bit since he burst into eleventh duplex that morning, calling bullshit and crying about his millions.
Levin was glad Joe finally got the message. There was no accounting claim. There was no shopping center. There was no money. On October 14th, 1984, and officer hands detectives over a stack of mail on top is a thick manila envelope from the lab comparing the to do list found at Levin's duplex to the handwritten pages he got from Joe's apartment. Zola rips the envelope open.
Inside is an extensive report from the handwriting expert. Joe's writing is distinctive. The handwriting on the to do list is identical to the writing samples from Joe's apartment. The analyst is prepared to testify in court that the list is indeed Joe's handwriting, the fingerprint report is more ambiguous. There are twenty five identifiable prints on the pages only to match Joe's. Still, Zola is optimistic he has enough evidence to arrest Joe Hunt, a case to convict. That's another story.
It's damn near impossible to convict a person for murder without a body. But some of the BBC boys are starting to turn on Joe. As for the others, well, if Zola wants a conviction, he's going to have to break them.
Ziller calls Joe and tells him he can come down to the Beverly Hills Municipal Courthouse and pick up his confiscated briefcase. Joe arrives at the station several hours later and Zola apprehends him. And then he formally charges Joe Hunt with the murder of Ron Levin. Joe, Dean and Brooke stood in the streets outside the Willshire Manning, watching Brooks VW Rabbit convertible get towed. Brooke was screaming, You have no right, Brooke shouted. But that didn't stop the tow truck driver from attaching a rig to the front of her car.
Joe tried to calm her down, but no one could reason with Brooke when she got like this. Not even Joe. They all watched as the little red convertible disappeared out of sight. What happened? Dean asked. Are you behind on payments? How should I know? My father pays them. He's probably pissed that I moved in with you guys. She'd never been a big fan of her father, although it didn't stop her from spending his money.
In late January 1984, Joe walked over to Jim Graham's cubicle in the BBC office to talk after only knowing Joe for a few short weeks. Jim quit his job at Willshire Manning to become full time director of security for the BBC. Joe offered him a cubicle in their office, a weekly salary and expense account and a BMW. Jim was infatuated by Joe's life and believed he could learn from him. He coveted the boys lifestyles. Jim was especially fond of Joe's girlfriend, Brooke.
Dean was not far from where Joe and Jim were talking. He could overhear snatches of words Rabbit, Brooke, Bel Air. Dean asked Joe what was going on. Oh, I sent Jim up to Brooke's parents house to firebomb the rabbit.
He didn't even look up from his typewriter.
Dean had to check it out for himself the next day he drove down Bellagio Drive. Sure enough, the charred remains of a VW rabbit sat out front of the Roberts estate, a burned out car in the driveway of a mansion stands out like a sore thumb in Bel Air. Now, Jim Graham ran security for the BBC, but Dean wasn't sure he felt any safer. About a week after the rabbit incident, Joe and the boys hung out in his living room at the Wilshire Manning check mate, Joe took Ben's bishop game over.
Joe always loved chess, but lately he'd been obsessed. Now he was quicker to anger. An innocent game of chess could set him off completely. Joe took every opportunity to rail his BBK brothers for their mistakes in game play. Come on, Dave, are you seriously going to use that pawn on a bishop? Your king is wide open. Never, ever leave your king defenses like that. I mean, you got to be a complete moron not to see that.
Lots of the boys noticed Joe shift in behavior, but only Dean suspected the reason Ron Levin had played Joe for a fool. And Joe was starting to believe that Ron's initial five million dollar account really was phony, like Friedman said. And this 30 million dollar shopping center was bullshit to Joe launched into a tirade lecturing Ben and the boys on chess. Sacrificing a lesser man is part of the overall strategy of the game. Joe argued that you have to treat a man as if he's dispensable in order to win.
He ranted for almost an hour. The long run is the only thing that matters, Joe said. He argued that bonds and nights, even castles and queens, should be sacrificed to save the single piece that was essential to survival. The King Study of history boys. Every man who's achieve greatness in his life did whatever was necessary to reach it, even by sacrificing his castles and Queen's. A week after Joe's second arrest, Mrs Carney shouts upstairs to her son, You have another collect call from jail, Dean, tell them I'm not home.
Dean stopped accepting Joe's call several days ago.
Dean Carney is officially a mess. In the two weeks between Joe's two arrests, Dean fantasized about a new life. He would go back to school, become a lawyer, start over on the right side. But that hope is feeling less attainable these days.
What Dean really needs now is not a defense, but a solid explanation that his parents can accept. He needs their help. Pass me that book on top. Dean's mother says as the family sits in the living room studying a pile of books on calls, the carnies are grasping at straws. They study up on how leaders of cults convince people to do things they wouldn't normally do. Says here that these leaders use written doctrines and ideologies like that Paradoks bull you are always yapping about.
Dean's father says Dean was grateful for his parents support, but he wasn't fully honest with them.
He told them he rode in a truck with a dead body in the back, but he never admitted he had anything to do with the actual murder. They had no idea he helped Joe plan two murders, let alone participated in one of them. Now, Dean can't sleep or eat. Every day he grows paler and thinner. Dean's parents raise their son to be a good and moral young man, and they will stand behind him. They're willing to do whatever it takes to get their son exonerated.
They retain a lawyer. Dean meets with the lawyer and comes clean on all his participation in both murders. The lawyer quickly realizes that Dean might be the best hope to convict Hunt.
He contacts the San Francisco Police Department, who connects him with Special Agent Oscar Braitling, they discuss a possible immunity for Dean if he cooperates. Raisen Ben are still abroad. Dean's lawyer emphasizes to bridling. Joe and Jim are facing other charges as well. Dean's lawyer argues that bridling is not likely to cut a deal with any of them.
Dean is the best chance for a star witness that they've got Dean here, that other BBC members are thinking of going to the police. From that point on, he makes notes of all his correspondence with the BBC boys. Ben calls Dean from Switzerland, then heard that the shit hit the fan. Dean recommends he stay in Zurich for a while until things calm down. He's not protecting Ben, but selfishly fears for his own safety. There's not enough room in Dean's lifeboat for two.
Everyone's looking to save themselves except Brooke. She's still 100 percent behind Joe. Brooke goes to see Dean and pleads with him to sign an affidavit stating that there was no meeting where Joe confessed to murdering Ron Levin. But there was, Dean says, and he did Brooke, push his dean. You have to help save Joe. She begs Dean tells her his lawyer says he can't do or sign anything. I'm sorry, Brooke. Dean says. Joe's latest arrest has changed everything, Paradoks philosophy is no longer the rule of the land.
It looks like the king is about to fall and the pawns are beginning to realize Darwin was right all along. Only the fittest will survive, even if it means selling King Hunt down the river. We're all juggling too much, so the ability to offload even the smallest tasks can make a difference. With an Amazon smart lighting bundle, you can turn your home into a smart home in just minutes. Setup is easy. If I can do it, anyone can.
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It was March 1984, Joe had chosen the restaurant carefully, he picked a place called Tale of the Cock, which offered rich wood paneling and leather boots. It was ideal for his stuffy middle aged investors. Joe and Dean were prepping for a grand investors banquet. The investors were told it was a thank you dinner for their continued support of the BBC, but it was really a fundraiser. The two young men talked in the small green room off the restaurant's banquet hall.
Joe looked in the mirror as he tied his tie. He could see Dean's reflection over his shoulder. I think we should kill Ron Levin, Joe said, without emotion. The BBC was depending on profit from Levon's deals, and now they were screwed. Joe felt killing Ron was justified. Dean had heard things like this from Joe before. Joe was just thinking out loud. Dean thought he was just venting his anger. He didn't really mean it. Joe stepped into the banquet hall.
The room full of investors applauded, Joe humbly thanked the crowd and walked through the room, shaking hands like a politician. Good evening, everyone. Joe stood in front of the room. He held a glass of champagne.
Joe told the room there commodities accounts were thriving. He told them they should expect big profits in the coming months.
Tonight's dinner, Joe explained, was to show his appreciation, of course. The truth was that the BBC was broke. Weeks later, Joe sent out bogus financial statements. On paper, their accounts were growing rapidly. He'd figure out later how to finance quarterly profits. This was one of the greatest tricks Joe learned from leaving the art of the stall. And it worked as happy investors brought in new, wealthy friends and soon more money poured into the BBC.
His investors talk like Joe had a money tree in his backyard. And when you heard Joe Horn speak, it was easy to believe. First Class Secretary asked Joe.
Yes, of course. Joe had been spending a lot of time with Levin in April of 1984, and he made sure the boys in the office noticed. He told his secretary to purchase two round trip tickets for him and Ron Levin for a pleasure. Weekend in San Francisco, Joe Azzedine to inconspicuously spread the word about a business deal he was working on with Levin to purchase a large portion of microbe genesis from the BBC. It was part of his plan.
What does Michael Genesis have to do with getting even with Levin?
I told you, Joe whispered, we're going to kill Levin. I thought you were joking, Dean said in my office. Dean sat across from Joe as he scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad. It was his favorite thing making to do list.
Is anyone really considering buying micro genesis from us? Joe smiled. No, he explained his plan. It will take care of both Leverne and their money problems. It's foolproof, Joe said, and would make them serious money.
Joe showed Dean a pile of letters their secretary typed up for him over the past few weeks, friendly correspondence between him and Levin about a micro Genesis deal. Joe planned on drawing up a contract that Levin would sign, along with the cheque for one point five million for his stake in the company Microdevices. The contract and all the correspondence would be planted in Levin's files for the police to find.
The check will explain the exchange at one point five million dollars from Levin's account to Joe's. Wait a minute, Dean interrupted. Does Levin actually have one point five million dollars?
Joe said he knew Levin had a Swiss bank account with a couple of million in it. But how did Joe plan on getting Levin to sign this contract and write out a cheque for one point five million dollars? That's where his to do list came in.
He handed it to Dean and explained the plan. Levin was going on a business trip to New York on July 7th for a week. It was the perfect time to strike. Ron was going to be gone for seven days and no one would miss him. Joe planned to go to Kevin's apartment the night before to hang out. He was going to bring takeout. That's when Jim Graham would bust in looking for Joe, claiming to be recovering a debt Joe owes to the mob.
Dean was listening as he read Joe's to do list. Dean interrupted Jim Dick's pet. Yes, for Levin's body. They'll dig a pit the night before in Soledad Canyon. Wait, you're not joking. You're talking about actually killing Ron Levin. Yeah, Dean, that's what I've been saying. Get with the program. Dean read Joe's list out loud. Taped mouth closed, blinds put on gloves. Joe explained each point in detail. Dean couldn't believe his ears.
Ron Levin only has himself to blame. This was his fault for screwing them over Levin Ojo money he deserved whatever he had coming to him. Joe had clearly been thinking about this for some time. The end always justifies the means. We'll be touching down at San Francisco International Airport in approximately 25 minutes. I hope you've all enjoyed this short flight from L.A. Can I have a blanket? Dean asks the stewardess. He can't stop shivering. His lawyer sits beside him and tells him it will all be OK.
Dean doesn't know if he believes that he needs a drink. Dean can only relay what he's heard from Joe about killing Ron Levin. He wasn't there to witness Ron's murder. However, he was an eyewitness, a participant actually in the Islamiyya case without the immunity deal. This could mean a murder conviction for Dean, the death penalty even. Dean's only way out is his lawyers negotiation with Special Agent Dreiling, if Dean will rat Joe out, he might receive full immunity.
He's about to trade his best friend's life for his own. He wishes he had another option. He considers himself a loyal person and he loves Joe, his best friend, his mentor, his confidant. Now here he is flying to Salvacion, knowing he's about to sever a relationship with the one person he loves the most in the world. Dean is scared, but he knows this is his only way out. Agent Oscar Bridling hits the record button on a cassette tape recorder, he reads the deal out loud that he worked out with Dean's lawyer.
Dean Carney will be granted full immunity from prosecution for the murders of Ron Levin and Hidayat Islamiyya and related acts in. And because Dean insisted the state will put in a good word for him with the California State Bar Association when he applies for admission. Just start at the beginning. His lawyer says Dean takes a breath.
I ran into Joe Hunt on the street in Westwood Village around April of 1980. Actually, he was still Joe Damski then. I hadn't seen him since we graduated high school three years before. We were never really friends in high school.
Dean pulls the flimsy airplane blanket tightly around himself on his flight home. He closes his eyes, an enormous weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Back in Los Angeles, Dean Carney sits shotgun next to Detective Zola as they drive through Soledad Canyon. That's it up there. Dean points out a dirt road on the right. They drive about a half mile up a steep incline right here, he says. Dean tells Zula to turn off the road into a lookout over the arid desert canyon.
Dean says this is the spot where they dumped Haddi at Eslami, his body over the hillside. A team of officers dispersed throughout the area.
It only takes a few minutes to find what they're looking for. Part of a rib cage, some hair vertebrae, a skull fragment. Coyotes have ravaged Eslami Ania's remains and scattered his bones down the hillside. The jawbone ultimately confirms their findings. It matches Eslami Ania's dental records now that they found Islamiyya. A massive search of Soledad Canyon gets underway to find Ron Levin's body. Zola is convinced that Hunte murdered Levin, but without a body, Jo Hunt could go free.
Next time on Billionaire Boys Club Movie Night with Joe quickly turns into life lessons, he spends hours walking the boys through his philosophies and riddles. He's even got one for Detective Zola and Officer Reiling, who are struggling to solve their cases. If there's no blood, was there a murder at all? This is Episode four of six in Billionaire Boys Club from Hollywood and Crime, if you like our show, please give us a five star rating and a review and be sure to tell your friends subscribe on Apple podcast, Spotify, the Wonder App or wherever you're listening right now.
Join 100 plus in the wondering app to listen ad free. You'll also find some links and offers from our sponsors and the episode notes supporting them helps us keep offering our shows for free. Another way you can support the show is by filling out a small survey and wondering dot com slash survey. In just a quick note about our scenes. In most cases we can't know exactly what was said, but everything in our show is based on historical research. I'm your host, Tracy Pat.
This episode is written by Michael Zeldin and produced and edited by Leah Sutherland, recorded by Julianne Nicholson at The Invisible Studios, West Hollywood Sound Design by James Morgan and Kyle Randall. Hollywood and Crime was created by Rebecca Reynolds, Tracy Patton and Jim Carpenter. Executive producers are Marshall Louis, Stephanie Jenn's and their John Lopez for one dream. While reliving the glory days of our favorite teams was fun, we are all thankful that sports are finally coming back in partnership with the athletics All-Star team of local and national sports reporters.
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