Las Vegas Sun

March 28, 2024

The language of corruption

Every trade has its language. Bartenders, cabbies, bricklayers - they all have their own jargon. So, too, it turns out, do those who trade in public corruption. The language of corruption can be found in 700 pages of transcripts of FBI wiretaps released last week during the trial in federal court of former Clark County Commissioners Dario Herrera and Mary Kincaid-Chauncey.

The FBI secretly bugged the telephones of strip-club owner Michael Galardi and his bagman, former County Commissioner Lance Malone, in 2001 and 2002, as they allegedly provided cash and favors under the table to politicians to protect Galardi's business interests.

Today, Galardi and Malone no longer are a team. Galardi is the government's star witness in federal court, and Malone is to stand trial in August.

The FBI transcripts, like the recordings from the black box of an airliner, reveal the stolen thoughts of the participants at a time before they knew they were in trouble.

Like the night a mother - in this case Kincaid-Chauncey - got her son and his pals admitted for free into a Galardi strip club.

On the afternoon of Oct. 24, 2001, Kincaid-Chauncey telephoned Galardi to thank him for arranging to take care of her son, Frank, at Cheetahs topless club.

Galardi insisted that he treat her son, a member of the Air Force, to some lap dances.

Kincaid-Chauncey (chuckling): "Yeah he likes blondes, but no lap dances."

Galardi: "He's a big boy now."

Kincaid-Chauncey: "He called me from the base, and all the guys are sayin', 'Ask her this and ask her that,' and I said, you know, I said 'Frank I can't believe you're asking your mother to do this for you.' So they were all laughing."

Galardi: "We'll make sure he has a good time."

But at Cheetahs the next evening, Frank Kincaid and his seven pals had trouble getting inside. So Frank called his mom, who called Malone.

Kincaid-Chauncey: "Hi, Lance. Frank and his friends are at Cheetahs and they won't let 'em in. They say they have no reservation for 'em or anything."

Two minutes later, Malone was on the phone with a Cheetahs manager, identified by the FBI as Lonnie Roybal.

Malone: "Lonnie, I got eight guys that are at the front door."

Roybal (moments later): "Are they at the door right now?"

Malone: "Yeah. Do you know what to give 'em?"

Roybal: "Yeah, a couple a buckets of beer."

Malone: "Ah, two rounds of buckets of beer and for Frank only give him, you know, a hundred dollars, ah, in lap dances."

Sometimes the language contradicted the notion of honor among thieves.

In a July 5, 2001, conversation recorded by the FBI, Galardi and Malone worried that Herrera might not be in their corner on an important matter.

Malone: "He'll be there like one minute, 'yeah, no problem ... let's do it,' And then he'll be behind our backs, saying, naw dude, he can't be in there."

Galardi agreed and compared Herrera to then-Las Vegas City Councilman Michael McDonald, whom Galardi had trouble relying upon despite having put him on his payroll as a consultant.

Galardi: "Dude, he's like McDonald."

Malone: "Yeah."

Laughter.

Galardi: "He's the same (expletive) way. Both cocky (expletive), man."

Malone: "Yeah, yeah, it sucks."

A week later, someone else was angry at Herrera - County Commissioner Erin Kenny, who eventually pleaded guilty to taking bribes from Galardi.

In a conversation with Malone, Kenny said she suspected Herrera had tipped off the media about her attempts, behind the scenes, to help Malone become the next Clark County parks and recreation director.

That tip, Kenny said, tied her to Galardi, who was secretly paying her under the table.

Kenny (about Herrera): "That (expletive). He is a (expletive). You know, he's gonna (expletive) pay. He'll pay." Later, she added: "I'm so pissed off at him right now. I'm gonna (expletive) him in the worst way."

After that conversation, Malone telephoned Galardi.

Malone: " ... this dude (Herrera) will flippin' just look at your face and just tell you one thing ... and just flip, stab you in the back right when you shut the door."

Galardi: "Yeah but dude, now I'm gonna stab his ass."

Malone: "Cause he's a piece of (expletive) man."

Galardi: "I'm gonna (expletive) stab that (expletive)."

The two men decided they would get back at Herrera by leaking out, as Malone put it, Herrera's "little adulterous affairs."

There were times when Galardi and Malone were puzzled by the influence of people who didn't give bribes.

In an Aug. 10, 2001, conversation, the duo tried to find out why a local media pundit had no reservations about insulting Galardi, but wouldn't criticize the likes of high-powered political consultant Sig Rogich and popular Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman.

Malone: "I, ah, you know, because they have a lot of clout but they don't have that much clout anymore."

Galardi: "Yeah."

Malone: "You know what I'm saying. I mean these guys are old, old fogies now."

Galardi: "Yeah, Rogich, what's he do for anybody?"

Malone: "Yeah nothing."

Galardi: "He don't give a dime, man."

Malone: "No."

Galardi: "I mean that guy... have that much power for it and for not giving no (expletive) money, I don't get it."

At times, the language oozed with irony.

An Aug. 30, 2001, wiretap caught Malone and Galardi complaining that the pending Las Vegas arrival of Scores, a national chain of topless clubs, would hurt the image of the business here.

Malone: "These guys from Scores are bad people. And if they get in, I mean, then all of a sudden, we're back into the Mafia look."

Galardi: "Yeah, there you go. And then who does that affect? It will, it affects us, you know. It (expletive) us over."

Malone: "Yeah, that's right."

Galardi: "Cause they don't look at us being clean, or whatever, they say the whole, the whole industry has to be (expletive) dirty 'cause these guys are."

So Malone and Galardi plotted to use the county officials on their payroll to scuttle any licensing effort by Scores.

Malone said he had enlisted the help of Crazy Horse Too owner Rick Rizzolo, who at the time was the target of an FBI racketeering investigation into hidden mob interests at his club.

Malone: "So he agrees with those, uh, those assessments and that's what we have to do. And I just told him. I said 'listen, uh, I said you, you know, you got a lot of ties too, man. You're gonna have to help us on this one.' I said, 'Because you're just, you're gonna be just as affected as we are.' "

Malone: "We gotta do everything we can to, uh, you know, to kibosh this thing. And then we're gonna need everybody's contacts and connections that we can."

Galardi: "OK."

But it was Galardi, not Scores, who ultimately ended up out of the topless club business.

And Scores? It set up shop in the very building once occupied by Galardi's pride and joy, Jaguars.

There were times when the language meant voicing frustration with a political adversary.

No county commissioner concerned Galardi and Malone more than Yvonne Atkinson Gates, the author of a 2002 ordinance that placed restrictions on lap dances and banned strippers under 21 from performing in clubs that serve alcohol.

In an April 11, 2002, phone conversation, Galardi told Malone that he wanted to give Atkinson Gates a tour of Jaguars so that she could see first-hand what the topless club would do "for the town" and its economy.

Galardi: "I don't get this (expletive), man. I just read today in the paper that (our) taxes are way down, they were sayin', and now this (expletive) wants to (expletive) cripple our business, man. I don't get it."

Malone: "Yeah, because she doesn't give a (expletive) about that, Mike."

Galardi: "Yeah."

Malone: "She cares about what it's gonna do for Yvonne."

Atkinson Gates later came up in a conversation between Malone and Kincaid-Chauncey. They were discussing why Atkinson Gates was refusing to delay a vote on her ordinance until after the November election. At the time, Herrera was running for Congress.

Kincaid-Chauncey: "One reason Yvonne doesn't wanna hold it is 'cause she would love to do something to embarrass Dario."

Malone: "Yeah. Yeah, you might be right."

Kincaid-Chauncey: "She's never gotten over the fact that Dario ran for, uh, Congress and she wanted to."

Malone: "Oh, well, she would have never had a chance."

Malone suggested Atkinson Gates would have been "hammered" on ethics issues.

Sometimes the language exaggerated influence.

In a Sept. 5, 2002, conversation, Galardi and Malone made fun of Las Vegas Municipal Judge Abbi Silver, who at the time had just lost a bid for district attorney.

Silver had called on her Republican primary opponent, David Roger, to refund campaign contributions that he received from Galardi and other topless club owners.

Roger ended up returning the contributions, but he handily won the primary and then the general election.

Galardi: "Look what happened to Abbi Silver. Go against these clubs and what happened. She got her ass kicked."

Malone: "Two to one, Mike."

Galardi: "People (expletive) don't want you (expletive, expletive) with these clubs and (expletive) with what they have to do."

But in the end, the language reflected shattered political ambitions.

In the weeks leading up to the November election in 2002, both Kenny and Herrera were scrambling for campaign donations.

The two Democrats were pleading with Malone to provide them with additional cash from Galardi.

On Sept. 30, 2002, Kenny faced a deadline to purchase campaign ads for her stretch run for lieutenant governor. So she called Malone for help.

Kenny: "I really, really, really need that money desperately. Because I don't have it now to buy my media because I spent it on the guys to put up my signs."

Malone: "Right."

Kenny: "And so I'm really in a position of desperately needing him to come through for me on that. Is he gonna keep his word?"

The answer Kenny got was not what she wanted to hear.

Malone explained that Galardi was upset over the county's failure to allow women under 21 to dance in strip clubs, and that he was reluctant to give Kenny more money.

Malone: "He's, he's like, you know, 'I give everybody so much money, and yet when I need something I can't get it on.' "

Kenny: "That's not true. You know what, what's (expletive). You know I have come through for him on Jaguars and every other (expletive) thing."

Malone relayed that conversation to Galardi later that day. It didn't go over well.

Galardi: "She wants money and she ain't done a (expletive) thing for me. She's funny, man."

Then on Oct. 25, 2002, a little more than a week before the election, Herrera left a voice message for Malone. Herrera needed an additional Galardi donation for a get-out-the-vote program established by Democrats to help elect their candidates.

Herrera: "It doesn't have to be a personal check. It could be a corporate check, and it can be of any amount. But, uh, anything helps even if it, ya know, doesn't have to be 20,000, but ya know, if it's five or 10, it's huge."

Less than two hours later, Malone called Galardi to tell him about Herrera's call. But Malone also warned him that Herrera was down by double digits in his congressional race.

Malone: "I'll come up with something, but, uh, ain't no way I, I would tell you to pay this guy another $10,000."

Galardi: "No."

Malone: "I mean, it's just money wasted."

Galardi: "Yeah, he ain't got no shot at the race. It's in the paper."

They also discussed public opinion poll findings that Herrera had high negative ratings among prospective voters. One newspaper quote from an unidentified woman in particular caught Malone's attention.

Malone: "She goes, yeah, 'The only time I've ever seen a, a politician have as high negative ratings as Dario Herrera, they ended up in jail.' "

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