ROBBING THE SUPER BOWL BOX POOL...THE PERFECT CRIME

In the early 1990's, fifty-year old Bill Derry was an Atlantic City casino floor supervisor and coworker of mine.  From the outside looking in, most people would think he had the world by the balls. But Derry had four major vices; three of which he handled well but the fourth, (unseen to nearly everybody) was his downfall.

Bill's first vice was being a wheeler-dealer with an incredible energy to legally earn money.  Derry owed much of his success to his semi-retired father's connections with Chester Pennsylvania bus rentals.

Derry capitalized on dad's influence to inexpensively charter buses, (later, he bought his own).  He started by organizing sightseeing trips for casino workers, (plus friends and family), to New York City, Washington DC, Baltimore and Philadelphia.

He soon parlayed his service to include Broadway shows, concerts and sporting events.  Derry's all-inclusive service earned a loyal following because he provided a sandwich, chips and soft drinks to all the passengers...plus a customer satisfaction guarantee.  So when one of his buses to Baltimore broke down on I-95 after an Orioles game at Memorial Stadium, he refunded 100% to everyone who suffered while waiting three hours for another bus to take them home.

THE 1990 GOODWILL REFUND FROM THE BALTIMORE TRIP REWARDED BILL DERRY WITH A RESPECTED REPUTATION WHICH RESULTED IN A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF POSITIVE, WORD-OF-MOUTH ADVERTISING.

Derry's broadening empire soon included buying two buses. He used them to bring gamblers from New York's Chinatown, to, two different Atlantic City casinos.  Those buses eventually grew to make three trips a day, every day of the year and were full.  He and his partner in Manhattan got a cut from each bus ticket sold and a healthy kick-back from the casinos.

Derry's next vice was being an excessive over-eater.  Due to his weight, he earned the hated nickname, Bill "William the Refrigerator" Derry.

WILLIAM "THE REFRIGERATOR" PERRY (1962-PRESENT) PLAYED IN THE NFL FROM 1985-1993.  HIS NICKNAME WAS IN REFERENCE TO HIS ENORMOUS SIZE, 6 FOOT 2 AND 335 POUNDS.  BILL DERRY WAS NO ATHLETE AND WASN'T NEARLY THAT BIG...STILL THE NAME FIT.

Like William Perry (above) Bill Derry had an engaging, upbeat personality.  So, he never let petty barbs get in the way of his cash flow.

It's hard to believe that Bill's life-of-the-party spirit could ever get more robust but it did when his third vice kicked in...drinking. Derry was famous for leading hordes of people, after to work, to his favorite watering holes, (maybe he was getting a cut from bar owners too)?  Bill was usually the first to order a round for everyone...even for the leeches who never bought anyone else a drink.

BILL WAS PARTIAL TO CHASING JAMESON SHOTS WITH HEINEKEN.

Bill held his liquor well and was never out of control.  But when he was well-lubricated, he was usually an easy touch for any sponge that had a family or health crisis.  Even at work, he was generous and likely to volunteer a donation to a bad situation or to help celebrate wedding and baby showers, special birthdays, retirees etc.

In support of Derry, he had a live-in girlfriend Reiko "Rico" Dunlap.  A blackjack dealer in our high action baccarat pit, Rico was a forty-year old divorcee, originally from Indonesia.  She combined a delicate femininity with an exotic look and raw sexuality.  Rico's flirtatious, outgoing nature and years of experience dealing in Las Vegas made her a toke (tip) earning magnet; as she made many high-rollers think they had a romantic shot with her.  Even our jet-setter coworkers who tried to woo her with their self-professed machismo and offers of cocaine were gently turned down.  On the job, there were always gossip-mongers and jealous haters but not a single, decent person I knew doubted her fidelity.

On a rare occasion, Rico spent her break at work alone.  She had a way of sitting in a booth with her legs tucked under her body and putting on a pouty, I need male companionship face.  This stance always caught my attention and made me think she was posing for a nudie magazine.

(Stock Photo) AT FORTY, RICO WAS A FANTASY MACHINE.  IT WOULDN'T SURPRISE ME IF SHE LOOKED LIKE THIS WHEN SHE WAS TWENTY.

Together Bill and Rico were the ultimate power couple.  Even though he was obese and she was nearly perfect, these soul mates were always on the same page.  Their public shows of affection didn't occur often however the sexual chemistry between them was obvious. More importantly, this odd couple was most amazing when their sizzling gift of gab was channeled to satisfy their thirst for money, (he often bragged how they double-teamed a New York businessman, to solidify the Chinatown to Atlantic City casino bus junkets).

I bet everyone who knew them were at least a little envious.  But there were red flags that should have been a clue to underlying problems. Bill and Rico lived in a crumby apartment in Pleasantville and shared an unimpressive, eight-year old sedan.  The reason why they lived like that and never went on vacation...was Bill's fourth vice.

EVEN ON THE DAY IT WAS INTRODUCED, THE CHRYSLER LeBARON WAS NEVER A COOL CAR!

It was so out of character that Bill drove such a beaten-down, boring car. Far worse was the comical contradiction that when that hunk-of-junk was in the shop, he drove around in a little, yellow nursery school-sized bus with Pennsylvania license plates, (which was probably supplied through his dad's influence).

I REMEMBER HOW SHOCKED I WAS THE FIRST TIME I SAW BILL PULL INTO THE EMPLOYEE LOT IN THAT LITTLE, YELLOW SCHOOL BUS.  BUT I WASN'T SHARP ENOUGH TO IMAGINE THE SYMBOLIC RELEVANCE OF SUCH A COOL GUY, DRIVING A GOD-AWFUL LeBARON AND HAVING A NURSERY SCHOOL  BUS... IMPORTED FROM PENNSYLVANIA...AS A BACK-UP. 

At that time, New Jersey casino workers weren't permitted to gamble in Atlantic City. So Bill feverishly entered into negotiations with the elders at the Foxwoods Casino, to bus his gambling deprived New Jerseyians to the Nutmeg State.

BEFORE FOXWOODS OPENED IN 1986,  NEW JERSEY CASINO LICENSE HOLDERS HAD TO GO TO LAS VEGAS TO GAMBLE...OR THEY STAYED IN ATLANTIC CITY AND WORE OUTLANDISH DISGUISES TO DIMINISH THE POSSIBILITY OF GETTING CAUGHT.  NATURALLY, THE REALLY RIDICULOUS GET-UPS DREW MORE ATTENTION TO THE KNUCKLEHEAD TRYING TO KEEP A LOW PROFILE.

One of our pit bosses heard that Derry was trying to make a deal with the Indians and said, "In the mean time, you and Rico should come up to Connecticut with us and take a shot."  Bill said, "No way!  It's okay for my customers to work forty hours a week in a casino and then drive three hours each way on their days off...just to spend more time in one..."  The boss said, "Yeah but..."  Bill interrupted, "Me gambling in a casino would be like a Greyhound driver going on vacation by bus."

The hidden truth was Bill was already addicted to gambling but not on table games.  He was a glutton for punishment through bookies.  His first love were the ponies but during football and basketball season and to a lesser extent baseball, this sports betting vice trumped all three of his other shortcomings.

Bill did a great job keeping this weakness secret. So despite his outward generosity when he had money, he was overwhelmingly broke.  He was caught in a trap, riding a roller coaster lifestyle with more down cycles than up.  Far worse, later it became known that his father's wish to permanently retire was hampered by having to bail his son out from strong-armed collectors.

While waiting for the contracts with Foxwoods to be finalized, Bill and Rico got the idea of brokering a cruise.  They found out that while plenty of people would go to Connecticut by bus, others with more discerning taste were willing to cough-up big bucks to do something colossal and unique with a group of friends...that included legally gambling, out at sea. Bill figured they'd get a volume discount from the cruise ship, give his customers a perceived deal while getting a commission for each cabin filled.  In the end, they would get paid, to take a free vacation.

At that time, (December 1991), Bill's friend, (a shift manager from his former job), told him that corporate lawyers had forced his old casino to officially ban Super Bowl box pools on the property. Bill's mind went into hyper-drive while his buddy blithered on about the usual yaddy-yada phrases like, "disciplinary action up to and including termination."  Bill realized, in the past, upper management in Atlantic City turned a blind eye to these illegal, but highly publicized pools, (for different, yet modest amounts).

Bill mulled this information and recalled that some Wall Street, executives have a Super Bowl box pool with a million-dollars at stake.   That's when he hatched the idea for his own exclusive Super Bowl pool that would net him a free chance to make; $30,000.00, $15,000.00, $7,500.00 or a combination of those amounts.

Derry's Atlantic City Super Bowl box pool would be the biggest in town, EVER!  At a cost of $600.00 per box, he would create $60,000.00 in prize money, (there were a hundred boxes), Bill got the word out to every casino in Atlantic City. Like wildfire, the news spread quickly even beyond the casinos.

At first, the payments came in slowly.  But Bill took no chances on friends or strangers and extended no credit.  All through January, while the NFL playoff tournament played-out, gamblers, (some weren't even football fans) came out of the woodwork to meet privately with Bill, pay up and pick a box.

A BOX POOL IS UNLIKE BETTING ON A SPECIFIC TEAM.  EVERYONE HAS AN EQUAL CHANCE BECAUSE THE WINNERS ARE ARBITRARILY DETERMINED BY THE LAST NUMBER OF EACH TEAM'S SCORE.  THE POOL STARTS WITH A TEN-BY-TEN GRID OF EMPTY BOXES.  THE TEAM DESIGNATED AS THE HOME TEAM IS WRITTEN ACROSS THE TOP. THE VISITOR IS WRITTEN ON THE SIDE.  BEFORE THE NUMBERED SEQUENCES ARE ESTABLISHED, THE BUYER SELECTS A RANDOM BOX. .

To avoid getting in trouble, fictitious names are used in the boxes to protect the participants from incriminating them self. Some of the encrypted identities are simple initials but more creative ones include; nicknames (Ice-Pick), cute phrases (Dead and Buried), favorite teams, (Vikings #1), home towns, (The Nutley Nuisance) or toilet humor (Sir Farts A Lot) and of course perverted ones, (Opti-Lingis).

Bill created his own conversion chart that included his customers encoded names, real names and phone number. When the next to last box was filled, Bill took the last one for himself, (he fronted the money but it was a freebie because the winners always tipped the organizer).

In the past, for other people's box pools, Bill used, "Bonnie and Clyde."  But for his own, he merely wrote,"72," (a sarcastic reference to William "The Refrigerator" Perry's uniform number).

Most everyone at work knew where Bill's dumpy apartment was.  So as a precaution against theft, he told people, in confidence, that his father was holding the $60,000.00, in Pennsylvania.  The reality was, the money was in a Neimann Marcus boot box, in his bedroom closet.  To insure a quick and efficient delivery, he had separated the jackpots into two packets of $7,500.00 and one each of $15,000.00 and $30,000.00.

A few days before the big game, a ceremonial meeting took place to establish the positioning of the all-important numbers.  To do this, twenty playing cards are used from a normal deck, (specifically the ace through ten of a black suit {spades} and the ace through ten of a red suit, {diamonds}).  To avoid any hint of cheating or collusion, these cards are "washed," "riffled," "shuffled" and cut, (note the box pool sample above, it identifies the sequence of the cards and placement of the numbers for that pool).

The winners are determined by the last number of score after the first quarter, halftime, the end of the third quarter and the final score.  Like the old board game, "BATTLESHIP," if you search where the two numbers meet, you'll find the winner's name.

HASBRO'S "BATTLESHIP" USES LETTERS AND  NUMBERS TO FIND IT'S TARGET, (THEREFORE, "B-6"  WOULD BE AN EXCELLENT SELECTION TO SINK YOUR RIVAL'S BATTLESHIP).  THE SUPER BOWL POOL USES RED AND BLACK  NUMBERS TO DETERMINE ITS WINNERS.

So instead of sinking enemy war ships, by using the box pool grid (scroll up), you can see that "RS" was the first quarter winner because the Patriots (red) had 7 and the Giants (blue) had 3.  If the score at halftime was Patriots 10 and the Giants 3, that would explain why "BB" won.  If the score was Patriots 24 and Giants 17 after three quarters you can see why "BA" won.  If the final score was Giants 27, Patriots 24...then "BA" would have won the third quarter prize as well as the grand prize final score, (because the Patriot stayed on 4 and the Giants added ten points and remained on 7).

If that grid represented Bill's pool, "RS" would have won $7,500.00 for the first quarter.  "BB" would have won $15,000.00 for halftime.  And "BA" would have won $7,500.00 plus the $30,000.00 bonanza.

On Sunday January 26, 1992, the actual Super Bowl for Bill's pool featured the Washington Redskins and Buffalo Bills.  I had to work that night but Bill and Rico were off.  In a party-like atmosphere, Bill arranged a free buffet at a bar in Egg Harbor Township which drew a crowd of participants, their friends and curiosity seekers from work.

On one of my breaks during the early second quarter, the game was tied at zero. I was sitting next to roulette floorman Jimmy Hu.  He pointed at the Xerox sheet that Bill Derry provided with all the boxes and numbers and said, "I got the shittiest numbers."  Hu showed me the 8-8 box that had his coded name, "WHO'S ON FIRST." He added, "I got no shot."  When I shrugged he pointed at 0-0 and said, "Do you know 'GIRL POWER,' he won the $7,500.00 first quarter."

The halftime score was Washington Redskins 17 and Buffalo Bills 0.  So whoever "JELLO-n-MILK" was, they had black, zero and red, seven and won $15,000.00.

The score after three quarters was Washington 31 and Buffalo 10 that made a $7,500.00 winner out of "GOOFY AND PLUTO."

I wasn't involved with betting on the game so to me it was a dull blow-out. Towards the end, I was sitting on break next to a pit boss.  He was silent as we watched the game's last few minutes dwindle. When the Bills scored what seemed like a meaningless touchdown, the score became 37-23. A crazy bolt of electricity shot through him.  I asked, "Are you okay?"  He whispered, "If Norwood kicks this extra point..."  He took out his Xerox pool sheet and showed me the box where the red 7 box, met the black 4 box...it read: "COL. STINK-FINGER."  He said, "Then, if there is isn't any more scoring...I win thirty grand!"  I said, "What if he misses?"  He gave me a dirty look, found the red 7, black 3 coordinate and murmured, "Then this, 'BRAIN DONOR NEEDED,' guy wins."

I wasn't on his shit list long because the kick was good and the scoring was over.

Meanwhile, twenty miles away at Bill's Super Bowl party, everyone in the bar was begging Bill for Col. Stink-Finger's identity.  Bill never noticed during the game but Rico kept handing him phantom Jameson shots that she bought.  He was still in control but he was noticeably drunk as he announced who the big winner was.

Lost in the excitement, Rico got in Bill's LeBaron and went home.  An hour later, Bill didn't need to be a detective to figure out why Rico and his car were missing.  He got in a taxi and sped home.  He was relieved to see his car out front.  But the apartment was empty and so was the boot box with $60,000.00.

It was the perfect crime.  Bill couldn't involve the police.  He correctly assumed that she would be abandoning her job so complaining to his employer would only jeopardize his position.

In desperation, Bill called every casual friend Rico had. He questioned coworkers and came up empty. He realized the only people out-of-town that she was in contact with was a cousin and her family, a girlfriend (Nadine) and Reggie Dunlap, her ex-husband...all of whom lived in Las Vegas.

On Wednesday afternoon Bill Derry landed in Vegas. He knew the address and the casinos where Rico's cousin and her friend Nadine lived and worked in.  Bill staked-out Rico's cousin's house and accosted her in the street.  He was so angry the innocent girl cried.  He believed that she hadn't seen or heard from Rico.

Nadine dealt blackjack at the Frontier Casino.  When he got there, a pit boss said, "She called out yesterday and today."  Bill went to Nadine's apartment.  He sat on a park bench across the street for hours until Rico and her friend came home.  They were each carrying several bags each from high-end department stores.  He timed his approach that he came upon them as the front door opened.  He forced his way inside.  A violent argument started.  Bill searched the guest room as the girlfriend screamed for help.  Bill said, "Go ahead, call the fuckin' cops too."  The girl stopped yelling as Bill found a treasure trove of cash. He knew that he had carefully packaged the money so he could see at a glance that a big chunk was missing.

"Where's the rest of it?"  Rico snarled, "I spent it...it's gone."  He readied a backhand slap but Rico defiantly, stood still, eyes open and awaited the blow.  Bill stopped himself. He grabbed up as many shopping bags as he could.  At the door he threw them down in futility.  He was about to tell Rico that he loved her as Nadine lashed out in a profanity laced tirade.  Rico cut her friend off and softly said, "'Fridge,' be happy with what you have and go."  Bill stood frozen in disbelieve for several seconds.  He reflected on the biggest fights in their gambling, codependent relationship and that she never called him by any form of his hated nickname.  Defeated, without speaking, he slunk away.

On the flight home, Bill regretted not going through Rico's purse. He came back to New Jersey $22,000.00 short. He made five phone calls. The last four was to inform the pool winners that he would pay them in full...in installments.  The first call was to tell his father why he needed so much more money. Now, twenty-three years later, I wonder if the senior Mr. Derry ever got to fully enjoy retirement.