Binion case hinges on circumstantial evidence

When paramedics arrived at Ted Binion's home shortly after 4 p.m. on Sept. 17, 1998, they found the wealthy ex-casino executive lying on floor of his den.

He had been dead for hours.

Clad only in an unbuttoned long-sleeve shirt and his underwear, the 55-year-old Binion's arms were at his side and his legs were straight and covered with a blanket. He was resting on a sleeping mat.

Next to his lifeless body were some jeans, a pair of loafers, an empty bottle of the prescription sedative Xanax, two disposable lighters, an opened package of cigarettes, and a television remote control. Police found heroin paraphernalia, including a large knife containing traces of the street drug, in a nearby bathroom.

While paramedics were working on Binion, police were comforting an apparently distraught Sandy Murphy, an athletic and attractive former topless dancer who had been living with the colorful gambling figure for three years.

Murphy, 28, an outgoing woman with a flare for designer clothing and living in the fast lane, had left a frantic 911 message minutes earlier, saying her "husband" had stopped breathing.

As reporters and neighbors gathered outside Binion's home, police suggested that Binion, a known heroin user who had just been kicked out of the casino industry, most likely had died of a drug overdose. Murphy appeared so shaken that paramedics decided to take her to the hospital for observation.

Just days after Binion's death, however, suspicions mounted about the cause of his demise. Binion's friends and family members who had reason not to trust Murphy gave interviews to the Sun, indicating that Binion wasn't in a depressed state and wasn't the kind of person to overdose accidentally.

It turned out that the day before his death, Binion had hired a new secretary and given a $40,000 campaign contribution to then-Las Vegas Mayor Jan Laverty Jones. He also had been telling his lawyers he was anxious to fight to regain the gaming license he lost because of ties to slain underworld associate Herbie Blitzstein. Binion was an executive at the downtown Horseshoe Club, founded by his legendary father, the late Benny Binion.

Before he died, Ted Binion's stormy relationship with Murphy also appeared on the rocks.

His estate lawyer, James J. Brown, reported that he had received a Sept. 16 call from Binion seeking to cut Murphy out of his will. In July 1997, Binion had willed Murphy his $900,000 home, its contents and $300,000 in cash.

Then, less than 36 hours after his death, Rick Tabish, a 35-year-old Montana contractor who had befriended Binion and Murphy, was arrested in Pahrump after he and two other men had dug up Binion's $6 million silver fortune from an underground vault. Nye County sheriff's deputies, who made the arrests, found love notes between Tabish and Murphy in Tabish's briefcase.

The attempt to steal Binion's silver persuaded Brown to hire private detective Tom Dillard, a former Metro Police homicide cop, to examine the possibility that foul play contributed to Binion's death.

Months later, police would conclude that the death scene at Binion's home was staged by his killers who were determined to make it look as though he had died of a drug overdose.

On Monday, 18 months after Murphy made that hysterical 911 call, she and Tabish are set to stand trial in the courtroom of District Judge Joseph Bonaventure on charges of killing Binion and stealing his valuables. Jury selection is expected to last all week.

Bonaventure, a no-nonsense judge with 21 years of experience on the bench, said last week that he does not plan to sequester the jury in the evening, a move that will save taxpayers thousands of dollars in hotel bills. But the judge slapped a gag order on the case in an effort to curtail the massive amount of publicity that he said threatened the integrity of the judicial system and the right of Murphy and Tabish to a fair trial.

Murphy, a transplanted Southern Californian, and Tabish, a convicted felon and failed businessman who is married with two small children, are accused of carrying on a romantic relationship while plotting Binion's death.

It took police six months, until March 15, 1999, to persuade Clark County Coroner Ron Flud to declare Binion a victim of a homicide and three more months to gather enough evidence to arrest Murphy and Tabish. Tabish has remained in jail on no bond since his June 24 arrest. Murphy managed to lead a life of luxury while confined to her apartment under house arrest. She is now back in jail, having violated the terms of her release.

To many, this case has become the biggest and most well-publicized murder investigation in Las Vegas history. It generated national media attention and unprecedented local coverage. Every court proceeding has been televised live on Las Vegas 1, a local cable news channel. The trial will be aired in its entirety on Channels 1 and 39, as well as on Court TV to a national cable audience.

The case also hasn't escaped the attention of Hollywood.

Tabish reportedly has struck a deal to tell his story after the trial to a Hollywood production company. Joseph Cusumano, a reputed associate of slain Chicago underworld kingpin Anthony Spilotro, has acknowledged his involvement in the project. Another suspected Chicago mob figure with ties to the movie industry, Salvatore "Sammy" Galioto, also has been linked to Tabish.

The mob angle, which has intrigued investigators, and other leads still are being investigated on the eve of the trial.

"I rather expect that this investigation will continue through the trial," said District Attorney Stewart Bell, who has described the Binion murder probe as the most complex case ever put together by his office.

In all more than 40,000 pages of documents have been generated and more than 200 witnesses interviewed during what amounts to a massive circumstantial case against Murphy and Tabish.

"This isn't a case where you have an obvious cause of death and eyewitnesses who identify the perpetrators," Bell conceded. "We have a case where we have to first determine whether or not a crime occurred and then try to gather the evidence to prove it and prove who did it."

Bell said circumstantial evidence, such as fingerprints or DNA samples, often is more persuasive than direct evidence.

"The state believes that this is a case that a jury needs to decide, and we're prepared to present to the jury all the facts that we've been able to marshal in support of our theory of the case."

That theory has evolved as the investigation has progressed.

A year ago, when Flud ruled Binion's death a homicide, he told reporters that an autopsy conducted by Lary Simms, his chief medical examiner, had found lethal levels of heroin and Xanax in Binion's stomach.

But in August prosecutors stunned a crowded courtroom at the preliminary hearing of Murphy and Tabish when they called famed New York pathologist Dr. Michael Baden to the witness stand. Baden contradicted Simms and testified that Binion did not die of a forced drug overdose, but rather was suffocated.

Since then, prosecutors have stuck with the suffocation hearing, while the defense has maintained Binion died of a self-induced drug overdose.

"The trial preparation indicates to me that there is not a homicide in this case, and I know we'll be successful in showing that to a jury," said attorney John Momot, who represents Murphy.

Momot contended that Murphy got caught in the middle of a war between Binion family members.

"She's definitely taking the brunt of the Binion money machine," he said. "She has always stood up for Teddy and that made her someone who was in the way. Her biggest problem is that Binion loved heroin more than he loved her."

Momot argued that the Binion estate has given Dillard free rein to gather evidence against his client and that has tainted the evidence in the criminal case. But Bonaventure recently found no merit to that claim, finding that Dillard and police acted aboveboard during the investigation.

For months, in unprecedented fashion, Dillard has worked closely with homicide detectives and Chief Deputy District Attorney David Roger, the seasoned lead prosecutor in the Binion case. All the while Dillard also has been building a civil case against Murphy and Tabish, who have been sued by the estate in District Court for allegedly causing Binion's death.

"It's been a lot of work," Dillard said. "It's a complicated case, but I'm sure everyone involved will do a good job, and we'll see what the jury has to say."

Murphy also appears anxious to bring out her side of the story.

During a break in a recent pretrial hearing, Murphy told the Sun she was eager to present her defense. She described herself as a "fighter" who won't quit easily.

In court, Murphy appears animated and sometimes oblivious to the seriousness of the murder charges she's facing. She frequently is seen whispering directions in Momot's ear.

Tabish, on the other hand, has been more reserved. Except for an occasional smile, he has remained stone-faced. He seems to have lost a lot of weight since his arrest and jailing eight months ago.

Recently, while Tabish has kept a low profile in jail, Murphy has upped her public presence, doing television interviews in which she has professed her love for Binion. The strategy appears to have been designed to counter a series of media accounts that have made Murphy out to be a gold digger.

In every national piece on Murphy, however, her perceived cold and calculating side has surfaced in a videotape of her touring Binion's home the day after his death. The tape shows her sudden transformation from grieving girlfriend to materialistic heir seeking her share of Binion's wealth. The tape also purports to show her stealing a wine glass from Binion's kitchen counter-top that police believe was used to give the casino man a near fatal cocktail of heroin.

Much of Murphy's defense is said to have been bankrolled by her latest benefactor, William Fuller, an 81-year-old Irish-born mining executive who posted her original $300,000 bail last year. Fuller reportedly has paid Momot's fees, and dished out money for a publicist and pollster for Murphy, as well as taken care of the rent at her Las Vegas Country Club apartment.

Roger, meanwhile, has shied away from the press while methodically putting together his case against Murphy and Tabish.

A member of Bell's elite Major Violators Unit, the soft-spoken Roger is regarded as one of the best prosecutors in the office.

James Buczek, the lead homicide detective in the case, also has managed to stay behind the scenes, allowing Dillard to attract the brunt of the media attention.

Both Roger and Buczek have been busy in the past month putting together stunning 11th-hour evidence that has come from two people close to Tabish.

Jason Frazer, a 28-year-old Tabish friend and business associate from Montana, was granted immunity last month to testify at the trial about an alleged plot to pay off witnesses to provide Tabish with an alibi in the murder case.

And earlier this month, Tabish's brother-in-law, Dennis Rehbein, turned in 100 pounds of silver coins believed to have been stolen from Binion. Like Frazer, the 37-year-old Rehbein was given immunity to testify at the trial.

The county courthouse, meanwhile, is bracing for its biggest trial ever.

"We're ready for the onslaught, whatever it's going to be," said Doug Bradford, the court's chief spokesman.

Jeff German is the Sun's senior investigative reporter. He can be reached at (702) 259-4067 or by e-mail at [email protected].

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