Bill Reynolds - Life Real Loud - John Lefebvre, Neteller and the Revolution in Online Gambling

“Vince, how do I look?”

“What do you think you look like?”

“Where’s my Armani?”

Lefebvre knows that at one point Marella worked at a men’s clothing shop in L.A. The clothes were from the south of Italy, where guys would sit in circles, each making a suit. They’d all jabber in Italian while handstitching little puckers on the shoulder. Turns out Marella’s a great dresser.

Marella and Lefebvre take a cab to the airport proper and grab some pizza and beer. They sit and wait for the freedom flight. Two mornings ago it was shackles and leg irons and little Ritz Crackers with peanut butter between them; now it’s front row on Southwest and gorgonzola and champagne — in jail-issue clothing. Lefebvre doesn’t throw the ugly “suit” out. It’s a keepsake, or talisman, now. There was the low of being arrested and then the high of being released. But the high isn’t really that high. Certainly no bubble-hash high, just a low-grade buzz from shake pot, maybe. All they know at this point, flying into LAX, is that the DOJ has not yet frozen Lefebvre’s assets. Not that comforting.

The pair lands in Los Angeles. Lefebvre has three days before he has to appear in New York. Priority number one when he gets out of the limo and inside Malibu 2 is to search high and low to find that pot. He scours the house and finds the pipe. Yes! He takes the pipe and washes it really, really carefully. He goes upstairs, out onto the roof, where he can shower and wave at helicopter pilots, heads over to the dark side of the roof. He puts the pipe into one of those rubber gloves used for washing dishes and hucks the motherfucking pipe as far as he can toss it out into the ocean. Next day, his interior designer comes by.

“Hey John,” he says. “Look, man, I found your pot lying out so I took it and hid it. Sorry about that.”

Yes!! Lefebvre digs out the pot, busts it into really, really small bits, and flushes it down the toilet. Then he takes the baggie the pot was in, cuts it into really, really small strips, and flushes them down the toilet. The whole procedure is irrational, but he’s afraid they’ll bust him again, this time for pot, and put him in jail for forty years like the well-toned diminutive Texan he met back at the detention center in Oklahoma City.

Day Nine, Tuesday, January 23, 2007, Manhattan, New York: Lefebvre is on another commercial flight — this time to New York City. An arraignment is a legal document that calls a person, such as Lefebvre, to answer an indictment. The indictment was last week; tomorrow comes the arraignment, which will also include his first urine test. They choose a place on Park Avenue that Marella knows and likes, the Loews Regency Hotel New York.

They eat in style, dinner at Daniel on the Upper East Side. Lefebvre likes their idea of the world’s most expensive hamburger. For thirty-two bucks, the Original DB involves sirloin burger filled with braised short ribs, foie gras, and black truffle, served on a Parmesan bun with frites. Tomorrow, Marella will enter a plea of not guilty on behalf of his client.

Day Ten, Wednesday, January 24, 2007, Manhattan, New York: Lefebvre, like Lawrence the previous Friday, must have his day of arraignment: Case Number 07-CR-597. The United States District Court, Southern District of New York, 500 Pearl Street. Criminal Cause for Bail Hearing.

“All rise,” says the Clerk. “The Honorable Gabriel W. Gorenstein presiding. United States of America v. Lefebvre. Counsel, please state your names for the record.” There are two government lawyers, Christopher Conniff and Treanor, as well as FBI Special Agent Maryann Goldman. Marella, Benjamin Gluck, and David Frankel say they’re appearing on behalf of Lefebvre, who is present in court on bond.

Conniff tells the court Lefebvre was arrested in L.A. on January 15. There is no need for a Rule 5 warrant, an appearance upon arrest, because he “was presented before a magistrate on that day in the United States District Court for the Central District of California.” Then it’s simply an issue of detention, bail, or release, says the judge, who then prompts Conniff to describe the agreed bail package: “The government entered into an agreement with defense counsel,” says Conniff, “and we proposed to maintain the same conditions now. Those conditions would include a $5-million personal recognizance bond, which has been secured by the defendant’s property in Malibu, California. The defendant would reside at that property and his travel would be restricted to the Central District of California and the Southern District of New York for purposes of appearing in connection with this proceeding.”

The judge wants the Eastern District of New York added. Conniff says yes, Your Honor, and then, “Supervision will be conducted by the pretrial services officer in Los Angeles, and the surrender of all travel documents, which I understand has occurred, and no application for new ones.”

Marella says almost everything stated is accurate. “I just wanted to make one correction. In terms of what has been posted, there was a $5-million cash bond that was posted in Los Angeles.” Then a bureaucratic discussion follows because Marella and Gluck aren’t members of the Bar of this court. The New York associate, David Frankel from Kramer Levin, requests a pro hac vice (for this occasion) from Gorenstein. It is granted, but the judge warns them that next time they’re in his court they better have paid up the twenty-five-dollar fee so they can present the proper certificate to him.

The next order of business is the preliminary hearing. Lawrence’s follow-up court appearance is set for February 14, Conniff tells the judge. Gorenstein asks if counsel can agree to this date, and Marella says he can. The judge gets right down to it: “Based upon the agreement of counsel, my review of the pretrial services report and the complaint, the defendant is released on $5-million personal recognizance bond already secured by $5 million in cash. His travel is restricted to the Southern and Eastern Districts of New York and to the Central District of California. Surrender of any travel documents and no new applications, strict pretrial supervision.”

Gorenstein adds one more thought: “There was an issue in the report about drug testing. Is that not a condition at issue?” Conniff replies, “It should be, Your Honor. I omitted it. I’m sorry.” So, so close — Lefebvre almost gets out of drug testing.

Lefebvre’s arraignment is short, efficient, and cordial, unlike Lawrence’s. Conniff does not even bother trying to convince Gorenstein that Lefebvre is a flight risk. On the down side, while Eaton never blinked about waiving the drug testing for Lawrence, Lefebvre now has to face the omnipresence of this decision.

When Lefebvre pisses for the Man for the first time, the guy administering the test says, “Sure you don’t want to sit down?”

This first test is a howitzer. Sure, Lefebvre’s been smoking dope forever. But lately, in the last couple of years, he’s been smoking something called bubble hash. No ordinary pot, bubble hash is made from a process that extracts THC from weed. The extraction produces something akin to hard, brown, compressed hash. Lefebvre’s friend presented it to him a couple of years back. “John, here’s a little piece of it.” Then the guy, who has known Lefebvre forever, warned him, “I’m telling you, listen to me carefully, John, three tokes and I was u-h-h-h-u-r-r-h-u-u-h BAAMMMM!!”

Next morning, Lefebvre decided he wanted to show his mom the $1-million parcel of land he’d just scored down around Oldman Dam, a couple of hours south of Calgary. He did one toke on the way over to his mom’s condo by the Elbow River. Then he did another. Then he did one more. Wow, that’s not bad … actually, hey, that’s pretty good! So he decided, Y’know, what’s one more hit? Four tokes. Then he picked up his mom and started driving down Macleod Trail in south Calgary.