According to informants, Lee didn’t actually own hound dogs. He would provide the clients and transport them to the Redding area where they would meet up with local houndsmen. A few of the local houndsmen were also licensed guides. The locals would provide the dogs, vehicles and expertise while Lee played big shot and acted like he was part of the process. They’d split the profits at the end of each hunt.
Experience told us that the odds of catching Jason Lee in the act of buying gallbladders were slim to none. The only way to get a foot in the door was by going undercover, just as we had with Millsap and others. Lee would smell a rat if we approached him with a Caucasian client, so the search was on for an Asian officer who could play the part.
We had no success at the Department of Fish and Game. We contacted our friends with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, also with no success. Dave and I decided to try Frank Packwood and Pat Anjola, two Redding area U.S. Forest Service special agents we sometimes worked with. Most of the illegal bear hunts were being conducted on national forest lands, so our investigation would fall well within their jurisdiction. Packwood and Anjola had spent their careers investigating serious crimes on national forest lands and were two of the most skilled and resourceful law enforcement officers Szody and I would ever work with.
Mother Nature must have been smiling on us, because Frank and Pat knew of a special agent who just might fit the bill. According to Agent Anjola, this young special agent was from another region, experienced as an undercover agent, and smart as a whip. Around five-foot-seven, he was slightly built and could easily pass for a college student. Most importantly, this young man was Asian.
“We’ll take him,” I said. “If this kid is as smart as you say he is, he’ll work out perfectly.”
Arrangements were made for the four of us to meet with Special Agent Don Hoang in September of 1996. After the initial meeting, we all agreed that Hoang was perfect for the part. Within a few weeks, Agent Hoang’s undercover assignment was approved by the U.S. Forest Service and the joint California Department of Fish and Game/U.S. Forest Service undercover investigation had begun.
“He’s just what we wanted,” I said to Warden Szody, “someone who is smart enough to pull it off but not intimidating enough to make Jason Lee uncomfortable.”
Hoang appeared a little timid and soft spoken, but there was an air of confidence about him that Szody and I noticed immediately.
With Szody, Packwood and Anjola present, I explained our carefully thought-out plan to Agent Hoang. “Until additional players are needed, the only people who will know anything about this undercover investigation will be two environmental prosecutors, our immediate supervisors and those of us in this room.”
Agent Hoang’s undercover name would be Quan Vanh. He would introduce himself as a graduate student who also worked for his parents part-time. We provided Hoang with a set of business cards that identified Quan Vanh as the North American representative of a Thailand-based import-export business owned by his parents. Hoang was also given necessary identification, a California hunting license and a 1996 California bear tag. Warden Szody and I briefed him on everything we knew about Jason Lee and several local houndsmen Hoang might contact. Of particular concern was a houndsman named Jimmy Westerby, known to be heavily into drugs, borderline crazy, and extremely dangerous. Agent Hoang was instructed to contact Jason Lee at his Los Angeles office and arrange a guided bear hunt.
On October 28, 1996, Special Agent Don Hoang telephoned Jason Lee.
“Hello,” said Lee, answering the phone in English.
“Is this Jason Lee?” Hoang asked, in a tentative voice.
“Yes, this is Jason Lee,” he said, although his tone suggested suspicion.
“My name is Quan Vanh. I am interested in going on a bear hunt.”
There was an uncomfortable thirty second pause before Lee responded. “Who referred you to my business?”
“One of my friends had your business card,” replied Hoang. “I heard you had a good reputation and guaranteed a successful hunt.”
Again, Lee hesitated before continuing the conversation. “What nationality are you?” Lee inquired. “You’re not Korean.” It sounded like an accusation.
“Vietnamese,” Hoang replied.
“What do you do for a living?” Lee asked.
“I’m a grad student from Fresno,” Hoang explained. “I work for my parents part-time.”
“Why do you want to go bear hunting? Have you ever hunted before?” asked Lee.
“No, I’ve never hunted,” Hoang confessed, “but I’ve always wanted to kill a bear. My parents agreed to help pay the fee.”
More at ease now, Lee described what others were charging for guided bear hunts. He told Agent Hoang how much the hunt would cost, depending on the size of the bear killed. According to Lee, a “monster-sized bear” would cost between $2,600 and $3,200. Hoang made an audible gasp into the phone as Lee explained that an average-sized bear would cost about $1,500. Lee finally relented and offered Hoang a flat rate of $1,500, no matter what size bear was killed; this rate would include housing, food, dressing the bear and any other odds and ends. He went on to say that the hunt would last one or two days.
“Do you have a hunting license and bear tag?” asked Lee.
“Yes,” said Hoang.
“You need a rifle? I can get you one.”
“No,” Hoang said, “I have a 30-06 rifle with a scope.”
Apparently Jason Lee had accepted Hoang, because the next question he asked was: “When do you want to go?”
Lee had several hunts already scheduled in the Redding area and offered to pick Hoang up on the way. Hoang said he was not ready to go that soon and scheduled a face-to-face meeting with Lee for November 5th at Lee’s Los Angeles office. They would plan the hunt then.
Special Agent Don Hoang walked into Jason Lee’s Los Angeles office on November 5, 1996. Special Agent Pat Anjola was parked nearby in case anything should go wrong. As Hoang entered the office, which was arranged like a classroom, he noticed several mounted animals. Framed photographs of Asian men with dead bears covered the walls. Two middle-aged Asian men were standing at the other end of the room, deep in conversation. The larger man was toying with a high-powered rifle as they talked. Although both men noticed Hoang standing there, they continued their discussion.
Finally, the smaller of the two men crossed the room toward Agent Hoang. He was slightly taller than Hoang and couldn’t have weighed more than 140 pounds. A cigarette pinched between the tips of his right thumb and forefinger, the neatly dressed man wore slacks and a long-sleeved dress shirt. “This is where I teach hunter safety. I am also a licensed hunter education instructor,” said the man.
That’s strange, thought Hoang. Isn’t he going to introduce himself?
“I am Quan Vanh,” said Hoang, as he held out his hand.
Instead of returning the gesture and extending his own hand, the stranger just stood there with a curious look on his face. After what had to be the longest minute Agent Hoang had ever experienced, the man stuck the cigarette in his mouth, reached out and lightly gripped Hoang’s hand. Again removing the cigarette, he said, “I am Jason Lee.” Within minutes of their first meeting, Agent Hoang learned that Jason Lee was all business. This self-made entrepreneur apparently had no use for small talk or friendly chitchat. “Why do you want to go bear hunting?” Lee asked.
Hoang remembered that Lee had already asked that question over the telephone. It was, however, the opening he needed. “My parents are in the import-export business in Thailand. They sell herbal medicines,” explained Hoang, as he handed Lee one of his business cards.
The card read: Vanh Enterprises, Silom Road, Bangkok, Thailand. It listed Quan Vanh as the North American representative.
Lee appeared more interested, but still cautious. After another long pause, he asked Hoang what part of the bear he was interested in. “It’s okay, you can feel free to tell me,” he added.
“The
head, hide, paws and the gallbladder,” responded Hoang.
“All my clients hunt bear for the gallbladder,” said Lee.
Lee laid it on thick, claiming that bear galls had medicinal powers while touting his expertise on the subject. According to Lee, the Chinese also used the heart, liver and bones in their traditional herbal medicines. Agent Hoang felt it was the right moment to interrupt: “I will have to check back with my parents on what parts of the bear they want.”
Jason Lee started to let down his guard as the conversation continued. He began bragging about what a good guide he was and guaranteed Hoang that he would get him a bear. “I hire three or four Redding area men to help with the hunt,” Lee explained. “One of them is also a guide.”
Hoang already knew that Lee was just the money man and most of the hunting expertise would be provided by the area hunters.
“Did you say that you have a license and bear tag?” Lee asked. Hoang said that he did. “That’s lucky,” Lee said, “because the tag quota has been reached. There are no more bear tags available this year.”
“You know me and my helpers always obey Fish and Game laws,” insisted Lee, in an obvious effort to impress the prospective client. “I will tell you how a typical bear hunt works. There are two methods. One is by using a striker dog and the other is by running the dogs. With the striker dog, they drive their trucks through an area with the dog running down the road in front. When the dog starts barking, the men go out and try to find the bear’s tracks. If tracks are found the other hounds are released. Sometimes they just release all of the hounds at the start. The houndsmen track them by listening for their barks and using radio collars. The dogs eventually tree the bear; then we come shoot it.”
While listening to Lee, Agent Hoang flashed back to the conversation he and I had about hunting with hounds; I had told him that hounds sometimes chase a bear for hours before the bear finally climbs up a tree. Mother bears teach their cubs to run up a tree to avoid danger. It is that parental training that often leads to the pursuer’s success and the bear’s demise.
“You know the size of the gallbladder is not determined by the size of the bear,” said Lee, as he brought out a photograph album. The album was full of Korean clients with their trophies. Some of the photos showed clients and Lee holding up multiple gallbladders. “If we come across other animals while we are bear hunting, we kill them, too,” added Lee. In addition to dead bears, there were photographs of clients with deer, pigs, squirrels and bobcats.
Agent Hoang said he had to leave but he would meet Lee in Redding that coming weekend. Lee gave Hoang directions to an Anderson gas station where they would meet. “We will stay at the house of one of my associates,” said Lee. “I will need a two hundred dollar deposit before you leave.”
Hoang paid Lee the two hundred dollars, with a balance of thirteen hundred dollars to be paid when a bear was killed.
Just as Agent Hoang was about to walk out the door, Lee called him back. He had one more question to ask: “Are you an undercover agent for the Department of Fish and Game?” Surprised that Lee would ask such a question, Hoang held back a reactive chuckle.
“No, I just want to go bear hunting,” Hoang replied.
“That’s good,” said Lee.
U.S. Forest Service Special Agent Don Hoang, acting in an undercover capacity for the California Department of Fish and Game, drove his black Ford Mustang into the Anderson, California Shell Station on November 8, 1996. The time was 5:45 p.m. Hoang had agreed to meet Jason Lee at 6:00 p.m., in preparation for a guided bear hunt. As Agent Hoang filled his gas tank, a brown-colored Ford Bronco, with Jason Lee at the wheel, drove in behind him. A few seconds after Lee arrived, a newer model silver van pulled into the adjacent gas lane.
Lee and another Korean man got out of the Bronco and walked over to Hoang. “This is Mr. Park,” said Lee. Hoang recognized Park as the mysterious man he had seen playing with a rifle at Lee’s LA office.
About that time, a group of people began to climb out of the silver van. One of them approached while the others stood back. “This is Mr. Hu (pronounced Hoo) and his family,” said Lee. “Mr. Hu is also a client.”
Agent Hoang marveled at how many people Mr. Hu had brought with him. They were later introduced as Hu’s wife, his mother, his son, his brother-in-law, his sister, and his daughter. Mr. Hu, himself, appeared to be in his early forties. He was about the same height and weight as Jason Lee and had a friendly grin on his face. Hu didn’t speak much English, so he just smiled when anyone spoke to him. His twenty-year-old son, who was three or four inches taller, spoke fluent English and acted as an interpreter when Jason Lee wasn’t around.
Once all three cars were filled with gas, Jason Lee led Hoang and the others to the home of local houndsman and licensed guide, Henry Jessup.
Jessup lived on a country road, a few miles from Redding. When they pulled into the unpaved parking area next to Jessup’s house, Henry was standing outside. Dogs from a kennel in back began barking. Agent Hoang, who was the last one to pull in, hesitated for a few minutes before climbing out of his Mustang. He needed the extra time to survey the scene, but more importantly to slow his heart rate, relax and assume the role of Quan Vanh, novice bear hunter. Jason Lee and Jessup were walking toward his car, so he stepped out to meet them. Henry Jessup walked with a bit of a limp; he was an inch or two taller than Hoang, with twice his girth. Jessup had a ruddy complexion and a full gray beard.
“Mr. Vanh, this is Henry Jessup, my helper,” said Lee. Hoang shook hands with Jessup and recognized a Southern accent in his speech.
Jessup invited everyone to join him in his living room. The house was fairly small, but had three bedrooms. Seeing no feminine touches, Hoang assumed that Jessup wasn’t married. Hu’s family remained in the living room, watching TV, while Lee, Park and Jessup led Agent Hoang and Mr. Hu into the kitchen. Seated at the kitchen table, they began discussing the next day’s hunt. A few minutes into the conversation, a green Ford pickup pulled into the yard. A man named Hal Neeley got out, knocked on the back door and entered the kitchen. Neeley was bent over slightly and stiff from a long drive. About six feet tall, he wore gray overalls, a long-sleeved cotton shirt and work boots. A week’s worth of gray stubble covered the lower half of his fifty-year-old face.
“This is Hal Neely,” explained Jessup. “He’s an old huntin’ buddy of mine from Oregon. Hal’s gonna hunt with us tomorrow.”
It was about 8:00 p.m. when Henry Jessup called Agent Hoang over to the kitchen counter and asked to see his bear tag. Hoang pulled the tag out of his fanny pack. Jessup took the tag and began filling out a guide log. Soon after, Jessup and Jason Lee walked down the hall, went into Jessup’s bedroom and closed the door. Hoang thought that was a little strange. It seemed even more unusual when they did it again after everyone had gone to bed.
Bedtime was at nine p.m., so sleeping territories were staked out. Mr. Hu and his wife took one of the bedrooms. Hu’s sister and her husband took the other one. Everyone else just found someplace to throw down a sleeping bag. Jessup offered Hoang the couch, since he was a client, and Hoang gladly accepted.
The next morning, at exactly 4:30 a.m., Agent Hoang woke to find Henry Jessup and Hal Neeley in the kitchen. A few minutes later they left the house and drove away, each in a separate pickup. At 5:30 a.m., Lee, Hoang, Park, Hu, Hu’s brother-in-law, and Hu’s son all crammed into Jason Lee’s Bronco and left the house. Unbeknownst to Lee and the others, an unmarked enforcement vehicle, driven by Agent Pat Anjola, was in position to watch them as they headed west on Highway 36, in the direction of Platina.
About 6:30 a.m., Henry Jessup came over the CB radio and said they had treed a bear. “We’re at the same place we killed that bear the other day,” announced Jessup. Lee drove the Bronco to the intersection of two Forest Service roads, with Hoang making a mental note of the location.
“When ya get to the intersection, wait there,” said Jessup. “Art will meet ya.”
&
nbsp; Who is Art? wondered Hoang, squashed in the front seat between Lee and Park. How many more people are going to join us?
As if sensing Hoang’s question, Lee said, “Art is Henry’s son. He is also a licensed guide.”
Who isn’t? thought Hoang.
It was almost 7:00 a.m. when Art Jessup pulled up next to Lee’s Bronco in a cloud of dust. He was driving a beige Toyota pickup with a dog box mounted in the bed. A young kid—an awkward sixteen- or seventeen-year-old boy with acne covered cheeks—was in the passenger seat.
“Follow me,” said Art.
Lee headed up the road behind Art’s pickup. As dust billowed into the Bronco, Lee and Park rolled up their windows. Hoang continued to act interested, all the while wondering why anyone would actually pay money to endure such torture. Fifteen or twenty minutes down the road, they caught up with Art, who had rendezvoused with two other pickups.
“This is where the bear is,” said Lee. “Everyone must stay with me at all times.”
Jason Lee and his entire entourage followed Art down a fairly steep embankment for a hundred yards or so until they came to a large pine tree. Henry Jessup, Hal Neeley and two other men were standing at the base of the tree, next to a pack of baying hounds.
This was a new experience for Agent Hoang and the dogs’ incessant barking added to his stress. With everyone watching, Hoang peered into the tree’s upper limbs and saw a small, brownish-colored bear staring down at them. “That bear is too small,” shouted Hoang, barely audible over the background noise. “I’d rather not shoot it.”
Lee appeared disappointed that Hoang didn’t want to shoot the bear, but agreed that it was too small. “Yes, it is too small. We will let it go.”
Agent Hoang was carrying a 30-06 rifle and noticed that Henry Jessup and Jason Lee were also packing rifles. One of the other men, later identified as Red—a red-haired hollow-cheeked tagalong—was holding a .44 caliber handgun. It was obvious to Hoang that the so-called helpers were displeased. They had gone to all that trouble and one of their clients wasn’t going to kill the bear. The bear was little more than a cub but they surely would have killed it had he not objected.
Badges, Bears, and Eagles Page 24
