“I don’t like keepin’ ’em here at the house and neither does the other guy,” replied Jessup.
Henry Jessup was obviously well aware of the fact that possession of more than one bear gallbladder legally meant they were for sale, and the sale or possession for sale of bear parts was a felony. After a little more bartering, Jessup agreed to sell all thirteen gallbladders for $3,150 in cash. Although inexperienced in the art of buying and selling bear gallbladders, Agent Hoang convinced Jessup that he knew exactly what he was doing. He individually priced each gallbladder, ranging from one hundred and fifty dollars for the smaller ones, to four hundred dollars for the larger ones. After a few minutes of small talk, Agent Hoang left Jessup’s house. It was 3:40 p.m.
Agent Hoang telephoned Henry Jessup again on December 20th. “Henry, my father was very pleased with the quality of the product.”
“That’s good,” replied Jessup. “Are ya gonna be up this way in the next couple weeks?”
“I don’t know. What do you have going?”
“We’re gonna do some bobcat huntin’ in January. If ya can make it, you’re welcome to stay here at the house.”
Hoang and Jessup eventually settled on a date for the hunt. Hoang was to show up on January 23 and possibly stay until the next day. Since Agent Hoang and Henry Jessup were now business partners, Hoang was allowed to go straight to Jessup’s house instead of meeting at the gas station or some other neutral ground.
Henry Jessup was full of new information when Agent Hoang arrived on January 23. He seemed particularly concerned about another houndsman named Ricky Nettles. “Nettles is goin around buying a lot a gallbladders,” said Jessup. “He’s a real bad guy. I heard that Fish and Game was after him.” Hoang asked Jessup what else he knew about Nettles. “I just know he’s someone ya don’t want to deal with,” said Jessup.
While Hoang and Jessup were talking, Jimmy Westerby called on the telephone. When Jessup hung up the phone, he said that Westerby had a bear gall to sell. Hoang said he would look at it after the next day’s hunt.
The next morning, Henry Jessup and Agent Hoang were on their way to meet Jimmy Westerby at the Bowman Store, near Cottonwood. It was about 8:00 a.m. when they arrived. Westerby had an older man with him.
“Who’s the old codger with Jimmy?” asked Hoang.
“That’s DeWayne, one of Jimmy’s buddies,” said Jessup. “He likes to tag along sometimes. Don’t worry, he’s okay.”
Rather than get out of his truck, Westerby motioned for Jessup to follow. He and Hoang drove behind Westerby’s Toyota pickup out Highway 36 toward Platina, eventually setting out on a group of unpaved Forest Service roads. At that point Jessup and Hoang headed one way and Westerby and DeWayne went another.
Several miles into the woods, Jessup got Westerby on the CB and said his dogs had not picked up on anything. “Head over this way,” replied Westerby. “My dogs are on a scent right now.”
Jessup and Hoang caught up with Westerby and followed his pickup down the mountainside. The hunters drove the switchback Forest Service roads and the hounds traveled cross-country. They all eventually came to a gate with a PRIVATE PROPERTY-NO HUNTING OR TRESPASSING sign posted on it. The dogs couldn’t read, so they kept on going. Jessup said that Westerby had permission to hunt on the posted property.
Interesting, thought Hoang. If Westerby has permission to hunt the property, why doesn’t he have a key to the gate?
After parking the pickups, all four hunters walked past the gate and down the narrow dirt road to a location where the hounds had treed an animal. At the base of the tree, Westerby handed Hoang his .22 Magnum rifle, with a scope attached, and asked, “How’d ya like ta shoot a cougar?”
Hoang’s agile mind started racing. How am I going to get out of this one? The last thing Agent Hoang wanted to do was shoot a mountain lion, especially with a .22 rifle, and end up wounding it.
“Is that what the dogs have treed?” asked Hoang.
When the hunters finally located the animal, high in the branches of a large pine tree, Agent Hoang sighed inwardly. Thank goodness that’s not a mountain lion.
“That’s a fisher,” said Jessup.
“I run in ta five or six o’ those things durin’ bear season and killed ’em all,” bragged Westerby.
Hoang was aware that fishers—weasel-like creatures—were protected in California. He thought to himself, Westerby is exactly the kind of lowlife the Fish and Game guys said he was.
“Ya know, fishers are some kinda protected species,” continued Westerby. “It’s against the law ta kill ’em.”
Hoang and Jessup continued to watch the fisher, high up in the tree. DeWayne, whose last name turned out to be Autrey, started walking back toward the trucks. “I got leg problems,” said DeWayne. “I need ta get off my feet.” Hoang was photographing the fisher when Westerby asked him if he would like to shoot it.
“No, that’s a waste,” said Hoang. “I’d rather just take a picture of it.”
“I’ll give ya a close up,” replied Westerby, as he fired two quick shots with his .22 rifle. The fisher bounced off several branches before falling to the ground, dead. Westerby picked up the fisher and threw it to his dogs, which proceeded to chew it up like it was a play toy. “Whatever my dogs tree, I kill,” said Westerby. “Don’t matter what it is.”
Agent Hoang managed to snap another photograph of the fisher before they walked away. He relished the idea of prosecuting Westerby sometime in the future.
Within twenty minutes of treeing the fisher, two of Westerby’s dogs set out on another scent. Agent Hoang climbed into Westerby’s truck and rode with him to catch up with the dogs. Jessup and Autrey lagged behind. As expected, Westerby starting quizzing Quan about his business.
“We buy a lot of things.” said Hoang. “Whatever we can sell to make a profit.”
“How ‘bout marijuana?” asked Westerby.
“That depends,” answered Hoang.
“I’m kinda like you,” said Westerby. “I push marijuana and other drugs—whatever I can get my hands on to make a livin’.”
As a U.S. Forest Service Special Agent, Don Hoang was very familiar with marijuana. Forest Service lands all over the United States were being used to grow this popular and illegal plant.
“Green dope around here is runnin’ about five thousand a pound and Mexican marijuana is runnin’ eight-fifty,” said Westerby.
“I understand you have something for me,” said Hoang, changing the subject.
“Yeah,” Westerby said. “It’s at my buddy’s house.”
When all the dogs had been rounded up and put back in their boxes, Westerby led the others to Dale Riggens’s ranch. Jessup and Autrey waited at the front gate while Westerby and Hoang drove on in. Westerby introduced Hoang to Riggens and his wife, Brenda. Hoang recognized Brenda as the attractive woman who had directed them to Westerby’s camp during the recent bear hunt. No longer wearing Levi jeans and a dirty sweatshirt, thirty-six-year-old Brenda was decked out in a flowered dress and high-heeled shoes. Her husband, Dale, seemed unusually clean-cut and well-groomed for the crowd he ran with. Smelling of aftershave cologne, the five-foot-ten-inch rancher looked like he had just stepped out of a band box—Wrangler jeans, spit-shined cowboy boots and white Stetson hat.
“We’re just about to go to a wedding,” said Riggens. “We’ll have to make this quick.”
Riggens led Hoang and Westerby to a shed about thirty feet behind his house that was filled with drying animal pelts. Westerby pointed out three fox, two raccoons and a dog. The animal Westerby called a “dog” was actually a coyote. Riggens opened a freezer door to reveal several boxes of wrapped venison. He reached in and pulled out a bear gallbladder. “Do you want this?” Riggens asked Westerby.
“Yeah,” Westerby said and accepted the gall from Riggens. With Riggens still standing there, Westerby handed the gallbladder to Agent Hoang.
The men carried the boxes of venison back to Westerby’s pickup, and Weste
rby loaded it into the utility box mounted behind the cab. He and Hoang said goodbye to Riggens and drove out to the highway where Jessup and Autrey were waiting by the front gate. On the way out to the gate, Hoang offered Westerby two hundred dollars for the bear gall. Westerby accepted.
“I’ll have to pay you tomorrow,” said Hoang.
“That’s okay,” said Westerby. “Just give the money to Henry. Me and Henry are partners. We’ve been in business together for over twenty years.”
Agent Hoang rode with Henry Jessup back to Jessup’s house. “Would you mind keeping the gall here until tomorrow?” asked Hoang. Jessup said he wasn’t going to be home the next day and asked Hoang to make other arrangements. Jessup did not want to be caught with any gallbladders. Hoang said he would call Westerby and make arrangements to pay him the next day.
Agent Hoang made sure that he was not being followed as he made his way to an agreed-upon contact site. Warden Szody, Special Agent Packwood, Special Agent Anjola and I were waiting there to debrief him. I gave Agent Hoang special funds for the next day’s gallbladder purchase. We knew how tricky and possibly dangerous this assignment was for Agent Hoang and had been keeping Undercover Fish and Game officers or U.S. Forest Service Special Agents close by whenever he was dealing with suspects.
Agent Hoang telephoned Jimmy Westerby at about 9:00 p.m. on the evening of January 24 and arranged to meet him the following morning at the Anderson Shell Station. Hoang would pay Westerby for the bear gallbladder at that time. The next morning at 8:45 a.m., Westerby drove up in a full-sized pickup. Hoang handed Westerby the two hundred dollars and thanked him for the previous day’s hunt. Westerby was in a hurry, so the transaction began and ended in less than three minutes.
Henry Jessup and James Westerby were just two suspects in a large-scale, long-term investigation involving numerous suspects and over a hundred violations. The ultimate goal of the investigation was to find out the true extent of the bear poaching problem and step on its neck. It would have served little purpose to arrest Jessup and Westerby during 1996. We would only have alerted other suspects and essentially shut down the investigation. Because the gallbladder sales were all felonies, we did not have to worry about statute of limitations problems.
VI
It was August of 1997, and another bear season would be opening in a couple of months. Warden Szody and I were still very much involved in the undercover bear investigation. An elderly, longtime member of the local hound community contacted Szody and me on August 21, complaining about the rampant illegal killing of bears. We agreed to secretly meet with this man at his home.
“These guys are killing so damn many bears just for the galls,” the broken-down, seventy-year-old houndsman said from the comfort of his easy chair. Recovering from recent surgery, he seemed frail and very thin. “It’s going to ruin it for all of us. Buck Millsap’s been braggin’ about killing fifty-one bears last year. They’re treein’ the bears and sellin’ them to the guides. The ones they don’t sell they kill, take the gallbladders and leave ’em lyin’ in the woods. Millsap hides the galls under the hood of his truck, passenger side.”
All this was old news to Warden Szody and me, but it encouraged us to learn that not all the local houndsmen were outlaws. Some were upset about what was going on. We found it interesting that Buck Millsap’s name always came up when bear-related violations were reported. He had been getting away with too much for too long and we hoped this would be the year we put an end to it.
Through our network of informants, Szody and I learned that Jason Lee planned to use the services of two new guides this year. They were none other than Ricky Nettles and Buck Millsap. Millsap was already a major player in our investigation and we were learning more about Nettles all the time. Even the other houndsmen didn’t like or trust him—Henry Jessup made that clear to Agent Hoang during the 1996 bear season. According to Jessup, Nettles was going around buying up bear galls and could not be trusted.
Buck Millsap was sixty years old now and still up to no good. Like so many Northern California houndsmen, Millsap was believed to have come from the southern United States where running dogs was a way of life. It seemed to be in his blood and his only skill. Several of the local houndsmen, including Millsap and Nettles, were not licensed guides. These unlicensed houndsmen were treeing bears, advertising the fact over the CB radio and essentially selling each bear for three hundred dollars or more to licensed guides with clients. They would often keep the bears treed for hours, waiting for the highest bidder to show up before they finished them off. This practice was highly illegal, under Fish and Game Code section 12012, which “prohibits the take or possession of mammals for commercial purposes.”
During the summer of 1997, a young man named Ross Hamilton was working part-time in a Redding area taxidermy shop. Ross was in his twenties at the time. He was a tall, friendly, good-looking kid who had always wanted to learn the art of taxidermy. Clyde Shipley, the owner and operator of the shop, agreed to teach Hamilton if he would agree to work without compensation. Ross had a regular day job so he would come in on his days off and late in the afternoon on workdays. Most of the time Shipley kept Ross busy skinning out carcasses and cleaning up, but occasionally the enthusiastic young man got to do real taxidermy work.
Shipley had been a taxidermist for over thirty years and enjoyed a reputation as one of the best in the business. He specialized in big game and had mounted everything from deer and elk heads to full-bodied grizzly bears. Warden Szody and I had known Shipley for several years and made regular visits to the shop. We also became well acquainted with young Ross Hamilton. Ross hoped to work for Fish and Game someday, so he always had lots of questions and was anxious to help us in any way he could.
One afternoon, Szody and I were in the taxidermy shop talking to Shipley and Hamilton. Clyde mentioned a Korean guide, Jason Lee, who had brought several bear hides into the shop the previous season. According to Shipley, Lee was a tightwad who still owed him money for taxidermy work. Ross mentioned that for some reason Lee had taken a liking to him and was always asking him to go on hunts.
“Every time that guy comes in he treats me like I’m his long-lost friend,” said Hamilton. “I gave him the impression that I had friends who hunt bears with hounds.”
“Do you?” I asked.
“A couple guys at work are always talking about it,” replied Ross. “I also know some of the bear hunters that are regulars here.”
Szody and I were all too familiar with Jason Lee, as a result of our ongoing undercover investigation. I asked Ross if he would mind keeping his eyes and ears open and let us know any time Lee came in the shop. He and Shipley both agreed to keep us advised, although Shipley was not as forthcoming. He was concerned about hurting his business.
It was my experience that most taxidermists preferred to see as little as possible of Fish and Game wardens. Shipley was known to say, “It’s bad for business to have game wardens hanging around.” Shop freezers are generally filled with all forms of wildlife, most of it recorded correctly and taken legally. A good taxidermist, however, is sometimes tempted to mount something that was taken, possessed or imported illegally. Most of the time it’s a hawk or an owl that got hit by a car, but occasionally it’s something more suspect, like an eagle, a bighorn sheep or a mountain lion.
What I found over the years was that a taxidermist might turn an illegal customer away, but very rarely would he turn him in. As in Las Vegas, what happened in a taxidermy shop generally stayed in a taxidermy shop.
I asked Ross to drop by our office the following afternoon so we could talk further. He agreed. The next day, Szody and I coached the young man on how to handle himself, should Jason Lee come into the shop. We also provided him with a video camera and signed him up with the volunteer employee program.
On October 22, shortly after the 1997 bear season opened, Jason Lee walked in the front door of Shipley’s Taxidermy Shop. Clyde continued working as Lee walked to the back of the shop a
nd began talking to Ross.
“We’re going hunting tomorrow. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Where ya going?” asked Hamilton.
“We are going to use a bait pile up past Platina.”
“A bait pile?”
“Yeah, we shoot a deer and rip it open. Then we throw it on the pile to attract the bears.”
“I am off tomorrow. Would you mind if I videotape the hunt?”
“Do you have a bear tag?”
“I do.”
“We have videotaped hunts before. I’m sorry but I’ll have to charge you. You know I have to pay my helpers, Buck Millsap and Farley Nettles.”
Lee must have felt quite confident inside the shop because he was completely open about his illegal activities. Shipley was listening in on the conversation and held back a snicker at the mention of Millsap and Nettles.
“If you will promise to give me your gallbladder, I won’t charge you,” said Lee.
“I’d like to keep mine, but you’re welcome to the bear’s,” replied Hamilton.
Lee, being all business and having no sense of humor, didn’t laugh. Instead he stepped closer to Hamilton and leaned toward his ear. Shipley strained to hear but couldn’t quite make it out.
“Do you have any friends you can trust who have bear galls to sell?” whispered Lee. “I pay from one hundred to two hundred dollars each, depending on the size.”
Ross managed to hide his surprise at the question. He thought for a minute and agreed to ask around. “Don’t worry,” he replied. “I know who to trust.”
Before leaving the shop, Jason Lee provided Ross with a phone number where he could be reached. He had rented a house in the nearby mountains for the duration of bear season. As soon as Jason Lee left the taxidermy shop, Ross Hamilton telephoned Dave Szody. Szody told him that he and I would no longer be coming into the shop, for fear of running into Lee. We would also have to stop meeting at the Fish and Game Office, because bear hunters frequently came there to have their bear tags validated.
Badges, Bears, and Eagles Page 26
