Sunday, Aug. 15, 1999 | 3 a.m.
MISSOULA, Mont. -- The straight-on mug shot appears ordinary enough. Rick Tabish, then 21, stares dully at the camera lens, a small sign dangling around his neck that notes the date of his arrest on a misdemeanor assault charge.
It's in the second photo from Dec. 7, 1986, the one of Tabish in profile, that something is different. The smirk.
In those days Tabish was a regular at the Missoula County Jail, hauled into custody on numerous occasions for drinking too much, driving too fast and brawling too often. Most of the time, Tabish, the son of a wealthy Missoula businessman, got off lightly for his offenses -- a chronic lack of consequences he knew how to exploit all too well, according to authorities.
"Basically, it was a case of a wild kid with more money than sense," said Detective Rick Newlon of the Missoula County Sheriff's Department. "With his last name, he knew he could push it."
Now 34, Tabish, a Missoula native, has landed in jail again. Only this time he sits in the Clark County Detention Center, where his name carries no weight and the endgame could be the death penalty. The smirk is gone.
Tabish and Sandy Murphy, 27, are charged in the Sept. 17, 1998, murder of former gaming executive Lonnie "Ted" Binion. The son of the late Benny Binion, founder of the Horseshoe Club, Ted Binion died at age 55 of an overdose of heroin and the prescription sedative Xanax.
A preliminary hearing on the charges against Tabish and Murphy will take place Monday in Justice Court. Tabish, whose wife and two young children live in Missoula, has been romantically linked to Murphy, a former stripper and Binion's girlfriend for several years prior to his death.
The murder probe is only the severest of Tabish's legal headaches. He and Murphy, along with two other men, face theft charges for allegedly attempting to steal a hoard of silver -- valued at $4 million to $7 million -- that Binion stashed in an underground vault in Pahrump.
The made-for-TV movie doesn't end there. Tabish and two other men, Steven Wadkins and John Joseph, are charged with kidnapping, assault and extortion in a scheme to torture a business partner into turning over his interests in a Jean sand pit last year.
For current and former Missoula County officials, accustomed to seeing Tabish in handcuffs or in court during his younger years, little doubt exists that his criminal past was prologue to his Las Vegas arrest.
"He's ambitious, he's smart, he's personable, he's good-looking," said Dusty Deschamps, the longtime Missoula County district attorney who retired last year. "But I think that, in addition to all of his good qualities, he has a knack for getting involved in shady deals and being right on the edge of trouble."
Friends and relatives of Tabish, while agreeing he has a live-wire demeanor, contend that maturity has tempered his impulsive ways. His allies accuse Las Vegas authorities of distorting Tabish's past antics to tar him a reckless opportunist.
"I just think he got involved with the wrong people," said Larry Tabish, 46, of his younger cousin. "I think he's being framed, myself."
A childhood of luxury
Born March 15, 1965, the second of Frank and Lani Tabish's three sons, Rick Tabish grew up amid affluence and outside the reach of responsibility.
His father built a petroleum distribution business from the ground up, and today is one of the wealthiest and most respected residents in this town of approximately 50,000 people.
Frank Tabish's sons reaped the rewards of his sweat equity with a childhood of luxury. But beyond the material benefits, say those familiar with the family, his father's lofty standing insulated young Rick from the consequences of his rowdy ways.
Rick Tabish graduated in 1983 from Big Sky High School and went on to the University of Montana in Missoula. He lasted all of two quarters before dropping out.
But if higher education held little interest for Tabish, he showed a passion for hell raising. After high school he took up with the "Pretty Boys," a group of young Missoula men whose favorite pursuits included pumping iron, chasing women and not working.
Despite lacking a steady job, Tabish managed to keep busy. In September 1985 he stole a 17th Century painting valued at $600,000 from the home of a family friend, a prominent Missoula attorney. Tabish, then 20, received a three-year deferred sentence and served no time in jail after confessing.
In November 1987 he was charged with aggravated assault after a Missoula man suffered "fairly significant injuries" at Tabish's hands, Deschamps said. Tabish drew a six-month sentence and paid $800 in restitution. All but 41 days of his term were suspended.
Three sources also confirmed that Tabish stole about $2,500 from a friend's local eatery in the mid-1980s. Authorities reportedly handled the case out of court, the restaurateur received reimbursement and Tabish escaped charges.
Tabish headed the short list of suspects in a handful of similar burglaries at the time, Deschamps and Newlon said. "We brought him in and all of a sudden, they (the burglaries) went away," Newlon said.
Involvement in a western Montana drug ring led to Tabish's arrest in February 1987 for trafficking narcotics. Authorities collared him and at least two other men for shipping a quarter-pound of cocaine from Arizona to Montana via Federal Express.
Tabish pleaded guilty the following year and received a 10-year sentence, seven of which were suspended. He served nine months in a state prison before entering a pre-release center, then earned parole a short time later. His probation ended in 1997.
Between those offenses were multiple charges of assault, criminal mischief and public disturbance. Despite the rash of crimes, Tabish avoided significant punishment until the drug bust -- a cycle of cause without effect his parents may have perpetuated, authorities said.
Newlon said Tabish's parents told their son more than once they wanted him to pay the price for his behavior. Then, at the last moment, they would "helicopter in" and negotiate a slap on the wrist, he said.
"If he had had to take more responsibility for himself, it might've had some effect," Newlon said.
The frequent arrests angered Frank Tabish, who aimed his ire not at Rick but at the authorities he felt were singling out his son, Deschamps said.
"His father is convinced we were out picking on the kid. He figured Rick was innocent and the system was out to hang him for nothing," Deschamps said.
Ron Tabish, another of Rick Tabish's cousins, offered a similar take. Still bitter about a business deal with Frank Tabish that went sour years ago, Ron Tabish asserted that Rick benefited from his father's excuses.
"Frank blamed everyone else for his problems -- it was always somebody trying to do something to Rick. He never sat Rick down and said, 'This is wrong, I'm going to punish you,' " Ron Tabish said. He added that with Rick Tabish's arrest in the Binion investigation, his father "is going around town saying the feds are trying to set (Rick) up."
Approached outside his Missoula business office, Frank Tabish refused comment.
Missoula resident Ken Crawford countered the perception of Rick Tabish as the protected son of an influential father. Crawford, 50, likened the antics of his longtime friend to other young men at that age, and argued that his name made Tabish a target for police.
"I don't feel he got preferential treatment. I think he got railroaded because of his name. They heard 'Tabish' and they tried to nail him," Crawford said.
Added Larry Tabish: "He got all the blame for a bunch of guys he was running with. He took the rap for them. He definitely screwed up, but he paid the price."
Blessing in disguise
As it turned out, the drug bust proved a blessing for Tabish, if not in the way he envisioned.
During the pre-release portion of his prison sentence Tabish went to work for the rock-crushing business of Marvin Rehbein Sr. His stint there helped him develop a work ethic, and started him thinking about running his own company. Sometime later, he got to know Rehbein's daughter Mary Jo -- the future Mrs. Rick Tabish.
In the mid-1990s Tabish launched a series of short-lived businesses in Missoula: Telepro, a telecommunications outfit; Wash Works Inc., a truck-washing operation; and MRT Transport, a truck-hauling company.
Tabish ran into cash-flow problems with each enterprise. Jim Fleischhauer, who runs a Missoula scrap metal company, co-owned Wash Works with Tabish for a time. He sold his half to Tabish a couple of years ago, and Tabish agreed to pay Fleischhauer $1,500 a month for his stake. The payments stopped unexpectedly last year, and another investor gave Fleischhauer $200,000 to cover for Tabish.
Fleischhauer, who said he is still owed $6,000 to $8,000 on the deal, described Tabish as a nonstop talker, someone who seemed to have a cell phone grafted onto his head.
"He was a go-getter, a hustler," Fleischhauer said. "He always got around, he always had a lot on his mind. He didn't seem to have time to sit and do anything."
Steve Bidlake, who runs Transport Equipment Inc. in Missoula and sold gravel-hauling trucks to Tabish, characterized him as "a hard worker. He was pretty customer-oriented. He did a real good job for the people he worked for."
Even though Tabish owes him "several thousand dollars," Bidlake remains confident he will get his money. "Rick will pay me someday -- unless he's in the big house."
Making contacts
Tabish arrived in Las Vegas two years ago looking to break his string of failed ventures. He started MRT Transportation, an extension of his trucking service, and also established MRT Contracting and MRT Leasing.
Dan Peressini grew up with Tabish in Missoula. Now a Las Vegas resident, Peressini said Tabish quickly made a name for himself in business circles here.
"He moved to town and within two years he's making contacts," Peressini said. "People wanted other people to meet him."
Nonetheless, Peressini said, Tabish's feverish desire to succeed can skew his judgment, and that may explain his relationship with Binion. "Ninety-five percent of Rick is good and 5 percent can be influenced heavily by other people," he said.
And perhaps that's why money woes still dogged Tabish in the desert. His companies were nearly $50,000 in the red at the time of Binion's death, and the Internal Revenue Service had put a lien on his Missoula home. Financial problems also forced Tabish to request an extension on a $200,000 bank loan.
Tabish sold his companies, including the mining rights to the Jean sand pit, to Rubber Technology International Inc. of Los Angeles in November. His 3-year-old house in an upscale subdivision of Missoula now sits on the market for $344,000.
The headlines generated by a native son have stirred speculation among Missoulians about Tabish's alleged role in Binion's murder, and no one hedges on his guilt or innocence. They view him as either perpetrator or patsy.
A picture on Denny Anderson's office wall shows Tabish in happier times, holding a massive lingcod that he caught on a fishing trip. The owner of a Missoula boat and ski shop, Anderson, 48, taught Tabish how to scuba dive, and the two men enjoy taking their children to nearby Flathead Lake together.
"The kind of guy Rick is, you can't help but love him," Anderson said. "He's got his downside like everyone, but everybody who knows him well likes him. And the fact that he can't see his kids, I know that's just killing him."
Don Larson, 30, tends bar at a Missoula tavern Tabish frequents. He conceded that Tabish used to rank among the town's "top three baddest motherf----s."
But proof of Tabish's mellowing came two years ago when Larson asked Tabish about a good place to stay in Las Vegas, where Larson and his fiancee planned to marry. Tabish responded by flying the couple down on a private jet, renting them a limousine and putting them up in the Sahara hotel-casino, Larson said.
"The guy's got a heart of gold," he said.
John Bessette, who runs the poker game at the same bar, recounted how Tabish would give $50 to a homeless man who might walk in, or would even offer him a job with his company. Yet Tabish's reputation for backing up his words with more forceful forms of persuasion still lingers, Bessette said.
"If he likes you, he likes you -- there's probably nothing he wouldn't do for you," Bessette said. "If you had done something he didn't like to him or his family, he's someone you wouldn't want to cross."
Or trust, to hear Dan Tabish tell it. The owner of a print and embossing shop, he is another of Rick Tabish's cousins, but emphasized they are related by marriage, not blood.
Dan Tabish, 54, accuses Rick Tabish of refusing to pay for business cards he ordered a few years ago. Given his cousin's history of exploiting people he knows, Dan Tabish said, there's a sense of inevitability about his Las Vegas travails.
"He may be getting railroaded by the Binions. But anyone who's been around him 20, 30 years wouldn't put anything past him," Dan Tabish said.
Ron Tabish said he helped cover the repair bill on a car Rick Tabish wrecked as a young man, and claims he never saw a dime of recompense. "I feel sorry for the Binion family for getting mixed up with Rick. I know how he operates," Ron Tabish said.
Rick Tabish, never at a loss for words, would no doubt like a chance to respond. But attorney Steve Wolfson has muzzled his client, who remains in jail while Murphy is free on $300,000 bail.
Nor are those closest to Tabish talking. His wife declined comment outside the couple's Missoula home.
Tabish's younger brother, Greg, also declined comment. His older brother, Frank Tabish Jr., who works for their father, would only say, "I love him. He's my brother. The media coverage has been tough and one-sided, and I hope he has a chance to air his side of things."
That will come in court. And there, Deschamps said, is where Rick Tabish will emerge either as an overeager, hard-charging businessman wrongly ensnared in a homicide trial, or the brains behind an old-fashioned Las Vegas murder mystery.
"He has the good qualities to get close to people, but he's not smart enough to know he's getting in too deep," Deschamps said. "Or maybe he's smart enough, but he doesn't care."
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