Jonas Sears:
CLASS OF 1971
Bishop Lillis High SchoolClass of 1971
Kansas city, MO
Drake UniversityClass of 1977
Des moines, IA
Jonas's Story
Well, let's see... I married a fellow classmate while the ink on my diploma was still wet. After a brief distraction working in a packing house down on the West Bottoms and playing Westside football with the championship team, Rams, I finally made it to college - Drake University, where the sources of my highly valuable learning went beyond the classroom.
Meeting students from all corners of the country, and with all kinds of backgrounds truly expanded my horizons and perceptions. I also had a great time on the gridiron while quarterbacking one of the few Bulldog NCAA championship teams in the school's long history!
Thanks to our beloved, Lillis' Coach Joe Mitner (my most memorable mentor) and the very supportive Sister Delores, I returned to Kansas City specifically to teach and coach at Lillis (one year) before restlessly venturing off - by way of exhaustive training in Washington, DC - to Miami, Florida - my true calling.
In 1980, I proudly joined law enforcement here in Miami, the "Casablanca" of the Western hemisphere during the era of the big, tropical "snowstorm" that blew northward from South America. And the excitement took off from there! For 9 years during the 80's I worked in the Organized Crime Bureau (OCB) as a vice cop. Perhaps not as glamorous as TV portrayed us, I had my share of intrigue, Dom Perignon champagne, fast boats, fancy cars, as well as a few interesting and sometimes shadowy people.
I mingled with two of the Watergate principals (ex-CIA) including E. Howard Hunt who unexpectedly bestowed upon my partner and me a verbal commendation for some of our work. Some might frown on the source, but I have no issues with it. I feel that Hunt believed in what he did during his years in the shadow world.
And there were the toppled Latin American dictator, a relocated New York mafia lieutenant and a handful of "triple-O's" (mob hitmen). I surveilled the fearless Meyer Lansky as he took his routine, retirement walks in Bal Harbor - near South Beach... as well as Tampa's Santo Trafficante who was accused, by a number of conspiracy theorists, of co-engineering several Fidel Castro assassination attempts as well as President John Kennedy's.
During an investigation of reputed mobster, Anthony "Tony Jacks" Giacalone, (who the FBI is convinced engineered the disappearance and death of Jimmy Hoffa) I sat in on intelligence-gathering phone conversations with infamous informant, Jimmy "The Weasel" Fratianno. When working that previously-mentioned New York mobster, Joseph Paterno who we arrested for ordering a hit on his female cousin and her son (mob accountant's family), we consulted with Henry Hill, who was later portrayed by Ray Liotta in the film "GoodFellas." Another interesting experience involved my investigation and arrest of Jose Miguel Battle, the reputed "godfather" of Cuban-exile organized crime.
A couple of friends in Classmates demanded a war story or two... so here they are...
World-class "paper man," (counterfeiter/con man) Frank Peroff found his way into my law enforcement life after extorting a famous Mexican national artist to murder a New Jersey property developer wintering in Aventura, Florida's Turnberry Isles. Of course, the artist wanted no part of that, and I got the call. I investigated this creep under his "assigned" name as Frank ... well... I can't reveal his full, assigned name as it was given to him by the Witness Protection Program. Yep, another protected bad guy still screwing people. Well.. he was good at what he did.
I only learned who he really was after a confidential source whispered that little fact into my ear. I later confirmed this when I found that Peroff, his wife and three teenaged daughters had social security numbers in sequential order... and they were all born and raised in the US. What are the odds of that?? I had no officially documented evidence that one Frank was the other. But, he admitted it.. not to mention that he got his Senate Sub-Committee investigator/friend to approach my supervisors in his behalf. Why a Senate Sub-Committee? Well, back in the 70s Frank single-handedly took down the Montreal mafia hierarchy, implicated several federal law enforcement agencies in corruption, and helped to dismantle the power of Nixon's White House regime. A sort of anti-hero.. I suppose. Witness Protection was obligated to neither confirm nor deny his participation in the Program. Well... that was the "official" US Marshal's response to my inquiry.
Nevertheless, I found a book written about his pre-Program persona, "Peroff: The Man Who Knew Too Much" 1975. It actually helped me in dealing with him. While in the Program, he made a good living under the guise of an entrepreneur who started up corporations before "busting them out" (bankrupting) one after the other. For me, it started out as a contract killing/extortion case and developed into a major economic crime "pain in the butt" investigation. I was off the street while going through bank records for quite a while! Frank was unquestionably a one-man crime wave.
There is a curious footnote to this story. I haven't looked into this thoroughly, but recently, several religiously-inspired Internet investigators claim that televangelist empress, Melissa Scott is ex-porn star Barbie Bridges who claimed to be Frank Peroff's daughter. Although I don't remember all of Frank's daughters by name, only "Bambi" stands out in my memory. Could it be? Go figure!
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While assigned to U.S. Custom's Operation Greenback, and with the control of a very effective federal informant, I was "the lead" in an investigation of mob associate and reputed Florida gambling czar, Victor Dante. During that investigation, Dante hatched a plan to build casinos on Native American reservations (taking advantage of their tax-immune sovereignty) that would've been financed with cocaine-smuggling profits. Now, Dante and Eddie the informant knew each other from the 50s when they worked as "mules" routinely moving huge amounts of cash from Lansky's casinos in Cuba to Miami. (Remind you of a sub-plot in Godfather II?)
Using two million dollars of US Customs "flash" money packed in two duffel bags, the informant convinced Dante that he had an additional 10 million dollars (that needed laundering) stashed in the Cayman Islands. He was advised by Dante on how to launder that kind of money using several options including putting the money through a church organization, and another involved bogus winnings from a Las Vegas casino. The most significant plan in my opinion was the "Reservation" scam. The informant would finance the building of the casino, and he would manage it so that profits could be skimmed off the top. Meanwhile he was to get a sizable salary managing the casino for the "Indians," as well as profits (in the form of "cleaned" money) on his financing. That was a very interesting offer for anyone - especially for a "successful smuggler looking to get out of the business!"
In a peculiar way, I must be fair with Dante in this story. During one of his pitch meetings, Dante had a few wealthy and powerful Florida businesspersons in attendance. I had to presume that their investment money was legitimate. Again, in fairness to Dante, he beat the rap. It happened that he found out about the informant before we could take the investigation further; and the plan to build the casinos went poof!
Apparently, his lawyer's partner handled another criminal defense of a case that we conducted during the same time period using the same informant and "flash" money - the arrest of a rogue Customs agent and her associate who smuggled cocaine and Pre-Columbian artifacts from South America. Again, I ask "what are the odds of that???
Maybe we were being a bit ambitious. Nevertheless, the casinos were eventually built... I wonder by whom?
Because of this investigation, I was then assigned to work with the FBI and the Justice Department's Organized Crime Task Force in Atlanta for a short time as they took their shot at Dante.
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Hollywood's fictional psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter once remarked, "Remember Clarice, it's our scars that serve to remind us of how real the world is."
Thinking back, it was supposed to be a routine transaction. Coco supplied the drugs, and I held the buy money. We did this deal many times before with no problem. In fact, I felt so comfortable about it that I slipped my nickel-plated 9mm beneath the cushion of a nearby sofa before Coco arrived. I also hid my wallet with badge.
Surreptitiously taped to my torso was a tiny transmitter known as a "body bug." On the other end of the listening device were several heavily-armed, well-seasoned vice detectives assigned to the Organized Crime Bureau. A year earlier, a 1983 Reader's Digest article described how we were labeled "los perros locos" (the mad dogs) by members of the newly-arrived Mariel Cuban gangs (accurately portrayed in Brian DePalma's "Scarface") who demanded as much of our attention as Pablo Escobar's "cocaine cowboys" and the Jamaican posse or two that were established in South Florida by that time.
Coco was somewhat agitated when he arrived at the hooker's house where I waited. As he did before, Coco reached into his bag. Instead of pulling out the expected amount of white powder, Coco drew his Colt .45 pistol, cocked it and pointed it at my face!
He was out of my reach, and I couldn't help but focus on the enormous, dark bore of the gun's barrel. It was a huge, unforgettable, black hole. It was ominous! "What the hell, Coco," I demanded."That's a big gun . . . hoyo grande" (big hole). As I had hoped, my partners heard it blaring over the airwaves of the secret bug.
But those were the last words transmitted from that room.
The most important thing is that I'm very grateful to be here today. I thank God, and in a bizarre way, I thank Coco. Had he been a Mariel murderer or a cocaine co...Expand for more
wboy, the big, black hole would've been my last worldly view as it exploded the life from my body. Surely, Coco was a dangerous drug-dealer, but he lacked that wanton, murderous mentality that many of the newly-arrived criminals of that time possessed. For once, it was refreshing to find a less-crazed psychopath like Coco to deal with.
I knew that Coco wasn't bluffing. You see, Coco was robbed shortly after he and I completed a previous coke deal some days before. He assumed that I set him up.
Sorry, Coco . . . wrong setup.
Neutralizing the situation, I assured Coco that it wasn't me who robbed him. It was then that I noticed a bright glistening from the gun. My focus shifted slightly to the gold-plated handgrips of the pistol as the shine reflected from between Coco's sweaty fingers gripping the handle of his weapon. Still, I couldn't ignore the one finger on the trigger, and the pistol's cocked hammer.
I later learned that my body bug malfunctioned during the ordeal; and only knowing that I was being held at gunpoint, my backup team elected to saddle up and rush the house where Coco had the upper hand.
But, inside the residence, the wait for the cavalry seemed forever so, I instinctively complimented Coco's gun. I pointed out the rococo engraving and gold-plated grips. I eased closer to Coco, and I slowly sidestepped the line of fire while reaching for his weapon, asking him if I could check it out.
Coco seemed befuddled, yet curious. Gaining control, I tenderly slipped his forefinger from the trigger. In order to further gain Coco's favor, I asked him if the gun was for sale. By now, I had the gun; and Coco seemed to have awakened from his brief trance. He smiled and said, "No . . . not for sale." Well, I couldn't blame him for that!
When comparing this dilemma to my subsequent hostage negotiation training many years later, I now realize that I, in fact, was my first "saved" hostage.
I sensed that somehow we were back on track. There was no reason to sell the investigation short by making an arrest at that time. After all, it wasn't Coco who we were after. It was his nephew, Roberto - a major player in South Florida organized crime circles, and former intelligence officer of Anastasio Somoza's Nicaraguan dictatorship. In fact, his only legitimate businesses were two of South Florida's hottest discos that he secretly owned. Yes, he was the real target. The investigation was still in its infancy.
Rather than identify myself as a police officer now that I had turned the tables on Coco, I elected to continue to move the deal forward instead. Taking a calculated risk (more like a leap of faith), I returned the gun to Coco with an encouraging smile; and without further delay, we finished our business.
During the subsequent, squad room debriefing, my partners described how as they were charging towards the house, Coco and I were spotted emerging through the front door smiling and chatting like a couple of old buddies. They quickly changed courses, jumped behind trees or dived into bushes with their assault rifles and shotguns. That must have been a sight! Luckily, Coco and I were oblivious to the show.
The investigation continued for several months, and ended when I delivered a truckload of purportedly stolen Dom Perignon champagne (on loan from Customs) to one of Roberto's clubs during a final reverse sting.
After the trial process, Roberto escaped conviction. Coco did not. Roberto refused to fund Coco's defense because of Coco's carelessness with me. Could've been worse. The hooker who introduced us disappeared for her own safety. Months later, Roberto was found in his Kendall home, machine-gunned to death along with the riddled body of his once gorgeous, 25-year old girlfriend. Those homicides have yet to be solved.
Both Coco and I had alibis. Coco was in jail, and I was home with my family. We were both where we were supposed to be.
My list of likely suspects is as follows. I know that Roberto was brokering a big coke deal between Medellin and members of the New York mafia. A big problem arose... which I won't get into. The gunmen could've been sent down from the NY mob, but they were more likely "cocaine cowboys" because of the weapons used. Triple-O's are not as messy with their hits. The Colombians, on the other hand, were. Ask "Tony Montana". And there is a third possibility.
Roberto might have been finally dealt with by a hit team from Nicaragua. After all, it was a Sandinista commando team - that was trained and fully backed by Fidel Castro - who caught up with Roberto's old boss, Anastasio Somoza while exiled in Paraguay. Led by infamous, international terrorist, Enrique Gorriaran Merlo aka "Ramon," the hit team was dispatched to kill Somoza during "Operacion Reptile." They were armed with fully automatic weapons (although they blew up the former dictator with an RPG rocket). Needless to say, E Howard Hunt wasn't happy about that! Without a figurehead to rally the Contra rebels to victory after Reagan's much desired presidency, it became more difficult to get Nicaragua back on our side.
The generally shared feeling in our shadowy circles was that Somoza would've been more difficult to assassinate had he been in the U.S. Jimmy Carter refused to welcome Somoza after the overthrow, and Somoza was forced to take refuge in Paraguay. Would've been a different story if the revolution took place during Reagan's watch only a year or two later. Either way... paybacks are a biatch! By the way, Somoza's final resting place is a cemetery on Miami's Calle Ocho - the area where I first arrested the C.I. who introduced me to Coco and led me to Roberto. Small world...
ON THE OTHER HAND, there were the great characters of interest. On separate occasions, I was assigned as a bodyguard to Prime Ministers of two Caribbean countries as well as for Cardinal Cassaroli - formerly the Pope's second in command - during one of their occasional Miami visits. Then there were the routine, cigar smoke-veiled meetings over "Cuban coffee" with leaders of Ollie North's "freedom fighters" aka the Nicaraguan Contra Rebels.
There were the lengthy strategy meetings with State Attorney, Janet Reno (before her appointment as US Attorney General) and my boss, Commander Art Nehrbass during our wars with local corruption, the "Marielito crime wave" and the "cocaine cowboys," as well as an intervention that stopped a hit on the mob accountant's family mentioned earlier. Their deaths were ordered in Miami Beach by the late Mafia lieutenant, Joseph Paterno, but set to go down in New York. Paterno subsequently died while awaiting trial on that and a few other charges. Oops!
I cherish the long conversations with a retired FBI agent - a septuagenarian who continued to work, until he died, with pari-mutuel security. I listened for hours while he recalled his career as a fed, helping to end the violent careers of "Pretty Boy" Floyd and John Dillinger.
Speaking of FBI, my boss Art Nehrbass retired from the Feds in the early 80s to head the Organized Crime Bureau in Miami. During his tenure with "the FeeBees," Art headed Operation MIPORN, a successful federal pornography investigation of the 70s. Working with Art during MIPORN was Special Agent Gordon McNeil, who I met through Art and other co-workers in the Bureau. If Gordy's name is familiar to you, it's because he was one of the survivors of the infamous FBI shootout in Sunniland (South Miami), a deadly gun battle against William Matix and Michael Platt. The final score in that ordeal: 2 agents dead.. both suspects dead & five agents gravely wounded. Gordy's quite fortunate as he took multiple hits from Matix's assault rifle.
Art retired from the OCB and wrote a book, "Dead Heat." I'm told it inspired the movie, "Heat" starring Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro. Art said that it was based on his experiences in law enforcement. Needless to say, his buddy Gordy's experience in Sunniland might have inspired Art to include the cold-blooded, fast-trigger characteristics of the criminals in his story.
Very important was my mentor, the late, Honorable Edward Cowart (a former Miami policeman), who, as a judge, sentenced the infamous serial killer, Ted Bundy to death here in Miami.
One night, I learned a very important lesson from Judge Cowart. While sitting in the judge's kitchen sipping coffee, I mentioned how Bundy must have been "one crazy killer." The judge peered at me over the rim of his glasses, and retorted in a stern manner, "Son, if that boy was sick like you say, I would have sentenced him to the hospital for proper treatment. No... he was a sociopath, and I sent him to the electric chair. You're a big city detective. Learn the difference, son... learn the difference!"
Indeed, I learned.
Interestingly, I nurtured friendships with Miami Vice cast members leading to creative writing ventures that paid off later. While moonlighting, I wrote scripts for a South Florida TV production company. That led to producing and directing one of the company's TV shows. Subsequent issues dampened my desire to further a TV career as a producer.
Nevertheless, I continued to moonlight by writing articles for several publications including Variety Magazine. I dabbled with broadcasting hosting radio shows and a local TV show. In Law Enforcement, I finished up my career while with the Department's Environmental Investigations Unit working with a federal environmental crimes task force.
I retired a few years ago leaving my son in Law Enforcement to help protect our good citizens. My two daughters are in the medical care field - one as a nurse. I'm very proud of my children! My daughters are committed to helping the elderly and handicapped youths, while my son has bravely stood up against (showdown-style) some very dangerous criminals and survived! Maybe a chip off the ol' block?
Currently married to a loving wife, we have a cumulative 5 kids and 10 grandkids!
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