Jeff German's column appears Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays in the Sun. Reach him at [email protected] or (702) 259-4067.
WEEKEND EDITION
November 20 - 21, 2004
Tony Serra took a big gamble last week during his theatrical closing argument in the Ted Binion murder case.
Prosecutors, the colorful San Francisco lawyer said, put on a massive circumstantial case of murder against Rick Tabish and Binion's live-in girlfriend, Sandy Murphy, to show their allegiance to the casino oligarchy that controls Las Vegas.
"We're here because royalty has been insulted," the cunning Serra told the jury with a dramatic flare. "What the casinos want, the casinos get."
What the casinos wanted in this case, Serra opined, was to deny Murphy a chance to inherit his wealth.
"The power structure will not allow the mistress to live in the hallowed ground of our royalty," Serra said. "She is an outsider. We will destroy her."
And so the murder case was brought against Murphy -- a Southern California native who moved in with Binion in 1995, one month after meeting him at a local topless joint. And the case was brought against Tabish -- the financially troubled Montana contractor who had an affair with Murphy behind Binion's back in the weeks leading to Binion's death three years later.
What Serra tossed out looked like a Hail Mary in the face of the compelling case of greed, lust and betrayal that prosecutors presented. It's what a smart defense attorney does to distract a jury when there are too many facts to rebut.
The argument was more sophisticated than the approach Murphy's former lawyer, John Momot, took during the first trial in 2000. Momot accused the "Binion Money Machine" of hiring a private detective to persuade prosecutors to build a criminal case against Murphy and Tabish.
Momot's gamble didn't pay off. The jury, after eight days of deliberating, convicted the duo.
Serra, however, might have made it easier for jury No. 2 to understand the defense's case, as he pleaded for an acquittal for Tabish, his client.
Average citizens, like the seven men and five women of the jury, know how powerful the casino industry, as a whole, is in Las Vegas. It contributes large sums of money to political campaigns and dictates our growth agenda. Very little is accomplished in this community without input from its No. 1 industry.
Were Binion and his family, however, part of this oligarchy?
Technically yes but, in reality, no.
Serra called Binion, the youngest son of the legendary Benny Binion, a "pharaoh" in the power structure at the time of his September 1998 death. But he really was nothing but a disgraced former executive at Binion's Horseshoe, the popular downtown casino his late father founded. Ted had lost his gaming license because of his drug use and ties to mob figures.
His older brother, Jack Binion, wasn't even part of the casino industry here. He had sold his interests in the Horseshoe to his sister Becky Behnen two months before Ted died and was focusing on his gaming properties outside the state.
Behnen was a novice casino owner at best, who had never paid attention to what was going on at the Horseshoe until she took control. During her rocky tenure, which ended earlier this year, her husband, Nick Behnen, wasn't able to get a gaming license.
At the time of Ted's death, Becky and Jack hated each other. They had trouble exchanging pleasantries at the funeral, and they never once spoke to each other during the course of the homicide investigation and the first trial. They still don't talk to each other.
Even Becky and her niece, Bonnie Binion, heir to Ted's $55 million estate, don't get along.
This is a family that may go down as one of the most dysfunctional families of all time in Las Vegas.
It's hardly a group capable of organizing a massive campaign to persuade dozens of witnesses who don't know each other to testify falsely against Murphy and Tabish -- and get prosecutors to go along with it.
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