TENNESSEE UNDERWORLD
Officials say Gore
killed drug probe
Mayor: Top fund-raiser, pal had 'clout
to shut down an ongoing investigation'

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Editor's note: This is the third report in an exclusive WorldNetDaily investigative series on corruption allegations involving Vice President Al Gore and his Tennessee family, friends and supporters.

In Part 1, "Al Gore's Uncle Whit," Monday, WorldNetDaily revealed that Gore's uncle and confidant, retired judge Whit LaFon, has been targeted as an alleged drug trafficker by federal and state law enforcement officials in Tennessee.

Part 2, "Gore plays fixer to 'crooked' uncle" in yesterday's edition, involves allegations that Gore has routinely leaned on his longtime friend and supporter Larry Wallace, director of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, to "take care" of criminal matters involving Gore's family and friends.

In Part 3, senior Tennessee law enforcement officials say Gore killed a major drug trafficking investigation in their state that allegedly implicated several of the vice president's long-time friends and supporters.

The series was researched and written by native Tennessee reporters Charles C. Thompson II and Tony Hays. A long-time veteran of network news, Thompson was a founding producer of ABC's "20/20," as well as Mike Wallace's producer at CBS's "60 Minutes." Hays is an experienced journalist whose recent 20-part series on narcotics trafficking received an award from the Tennessee Press Association.




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By Charles Thompson and Tony Hays
© 2000, Charles C. Thompson II and Tony Hays

SAVANNAH, Tenn. -- If you were rich and politically connected in Hardin County, Tenn., and were under scrutiny for drug dealing by the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, or if you needed a permit from the Tennessee Valley Authority to run a sewer line on your property abutting the bank on Pickwick Lake, you might have gone to two of Al Gore's money men to get things straightened out.

Take those pesky TVA permits that encompassed everything from your right to cut down a tree on your property to dredging a boat slip or building a dock. These permits were costly and time-consuming, and sometimes seemed unobtainable.

According to Benny Austin, owner of the largest real estate agency in Savannah, the county seat of Hardin County, until very recently the best person to expedite those permits was Clark Jones, a Savannah car dealer and a key fund-raiser for Gore, who raised more than a $100,000 for the vice president last year.

Jones took contributions for Gore in return for handling TVA permits, according to Austin, who added that the potential scandal "has been swept under the rug."

Another major realtor who spoke on condition of anonymity said a second fund-raiser and longtime friend of Gore also obtained TVA permits for properties that weren't eligible.

"I checked it out and found that these permits should never have been granted," he said.

The fund-raiser, Paul Callens, 57, a wealthy real estate broker, controls a great deal of the desirable building lots around Pickwick Lake. These lots sell for $69,000 for an off-water lot, while a waterfront lot begins at $159,000. Callens' company handles the sales of many of the opulent estates situated on the gently rolling hills surrounding the lake.

Callens' and Jones' access to Gore allowed them to obtain lucrative federal assistance from Gore and his aides. A problem with barges cluttering Pickwick Lake disappeared after a Callens contact with Gore and Sen. John Stennis, D-Miss.

Given this background, it is not surprising that when last year the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation began narcotics-trafficking investigations against Jones and Ron Harmon, a sitting chancery court judge, Jones allegedly went to Gore to have the investigation killed. The embarrassing and politically dangerous state probe was suddenly terminated last year just 10 weeks after it began by the director of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, Larry Wallace, another of Gore's close associates.

According to current and former TBI officials, that is business as usual at the agency. In fact, those officials say Wallace has routinely spiked investigations that could be harmful to politicians or that involve law enforcement officials -- especially those involving Gore.


Sources within the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation say Gore and Wallace have been in frequent contact over the past eight years. WorldNetDaily asked Wallace for his correspondence with Gore and his aides involving TBI investigations and were told "no such correspondence exists."


Ed Holt, deputy director of the TBI, said Wallace killed the Hardin County drug probe because the agency was unable to develop an informant.

"You know there was an opportunity at one time for a drug investigation down there, but we couldn't take it anywhere, because we couldn't get any informants, " Holt said.


"That's total bulls--t!" responded Butch Morris, a former top narcotics agent with the TBI. Local and federal sources agree with Morris, saying bureau agents were spoonfed documentation and key informants, but never used them.


Community leaders in Hardin County, center of the TBI inquiry, claim that the investigation was terminated prematurely after an unusual meeting between an alleged suspect, Jones and the TBI agent in charge of the investigation, Roger Hughes.

According to members of the 24th Judicial District who worked with the FBI, the federal agency began the investigation last fall. The federal Drug Enforcement Agency and the U.S. Customs Service have opened their own investigation of the case. Holt confirmed that after his agency halted the investigation in the spring of 1999, FBI special agents questioned him about some of the TBI's suspects.


However, the federal agents added another suspect, according to two local law enforcement officials who are part of a narcotics task force assisting the FBI. They identified him as Whit LaFon, Gore's crusty old uncle, a former state judge who peppers his conversation with racial epithets such as "nigger."


The genesis of TBI's Hardin County drug investigation was the overdose death of a 20-year-old Savannah man, John Riddell. Riddell had been at a party on Dec. 29, 1998, at a friend's house in a secluded area of Hardin County known as Bruton Branch.


According to his autopsy report, John had ingested three prescription drugs. He aspirated his vomit and then choked to death. His parents, David and Jane Riddell, were painfully aware of their son's addiction.


They had tried twice without success to get John to straighten up. He remained just one night in a rehabilitation facility and then agreed to stay for the full 28 days of treatment at another. However, he was soon back on the streets of Savannah abusing drugs. John Riddell's death in the rural west Tennessee county sparked a ripple effect, and the tremors are now reaching the national stage.


An avalanche of drugs
Hardin County's geography makes it an inviting target for drug traffickers. Bisected by the Tennessee River, it is a natural way station for barges hauling drugs from the Gulf of Mexico.


In recent years, widespread dope dealing has become an unwanted way of life on the streets of Savannah and the back roads of Hardin County. Police Chief Don Cannon said he has seen an avalanche of drugs during his 33 years on the police force.


During Cannon's tenure, heroin, speed and cocaine replaced marijuana and uppers and downers as the addicts' drugs of choice.


Police estimate that seizures of cocaine account for about 10 percent of the total supply. Federal agents estimate that some $2.3 million worth of cocaine goes through Hardin County each week, or more than $100 million per year. Lawmen say that profit on an ounce of cocaine runs about $1,200, or about $7,000 a week profit for street dealers.

Methamphetamine usage is totally out of control, officers say. Users can often be violent, according to former Hardin County Deputy Sheriff Larry Phelps.

"You don't know when you come crashing in a door on a meth raid, whether the person inside is going to shoot you or kill himself," Phelps said.

The vast amounts of money generated in Hardin County each year seem out of place for a small, rural county, which has a population of only 25,000. And especially so for Savannah, which only has 6,000 residents.

"There are more dealers now, more of everything. But what can I do? I have three or four patrolmen on each shift," Cannon said.

One major problem, according to the chief, is that state and, until recently, federal law enforcement agents rarely visit Hardin County, much less investigate anything relating to drugs there.

Given the high level of drug abuse in Hardin County, it's amazing that John Riddell's drug overdose death was even noticed.

However, John's parents were prominent members of Savannah's business community, and they vowed to get the TBI or the FBI to conduct a thorough investigation of drug dealing in Hardin County. The Riddells own three Piggly Wiggly grocery stores in the Savannah area. Jane Riddell is a former high school teacher and a member of the Savannah School Board.

On the cold, rainy night of Jan. 7, 1999, 1,500 people packed Savannah's city hall to listen to a mixture of old-time religion and fire-eating anti-drug rhetoric.

The Riddells spoke and then Randy Isbell, a photogenic Baptist minister, took over.

"We're not talking about vigilante justice -- yet," Isbell exclaimed, inserting a pregnant pause between the words "justice" and "yet."

The crowd sensed that Isbell, pastor of Hopewell Baptist Church, was slyly informing them that vigilante justice might be OK sometime soon, and it roared its approval.

Out of that meeting grew a coalition of citizens, determined to establish a permanent drug awareness organization called Community Partners. The organization's primary goal was to educate the area's youth about drugs and their dangers and to enhance and cooperate with local, state and federal law enforcement agencies' investigations of drug dealing in Hardin County.

Randy Rinks, a well-respected state representative, attended this meeting and was so impressed by the fervor of the crowd that he called Larry Wallace and suggested that the TBI should talk to the Riddells, Rev. Isbell and others and open an investigation.

Wallace promised Rinks that he would have his agents in Jackson contact the Riddells and other members of Community Partners.

On Jan. 6, 1999, the Riddells received a call from John Mehr, special-agent-in-charge of the TBI's office in Jackson. Mehr asked them to drive to Jackson that day for a meeting. He warned them not to discuss the meeting with anyone else. They bundled up their son's telephone records, tapes, and other information and despite the icy and hazardous roads they went. The matter was too important to let the weather stand in the way.

The Riddells told Mehr and the other agents that even though they were devastated by their son's death, they had resolved to do everything in their power to stop the drug dealing at all levels.

"The TBI agents were aggressively interested; they asked a lot of questions," Jane Riddell said. The Riddells provided information and documentation about their son's drug addiction and acquaintances.

Jane Riddell and her husband left the meeting feeling that the TBI agents were serious professionals who would do a good job.

The investigation Rep. Rinks had sparked with his phone call eventually centered on two individuals:

1) Clark Jones, 43, owner of three car dealerships in Savannah, Tenn., and Corinth, Miss., is a close friend of Gore and has been a political contributor for nearly 20 years.

2) Ron Harmon, 50, a state chancery court judge from Savannah, has been a political backer of Gore for 20 years, donating and raising thousands of dollars for Gore's congressional, senatorial and presidential campaigns. Harmon has also lunched or dined with Gore during his visits to Savannah.

According to Robert Lawson, former Tennessee Public Safety Commissioner and, as such, also in charge at that time of the Tennessee Highway Patrol, Clark Jones' name was listed on the TBI's computerized files in the late 1980s and early 1990s as an alleged dope dealer. He is currently listed in computerized federal intelligence files as a "suspected drug dealer."

Jones has often boasted to the people of Hardin County about the many honors he has received as a result of his friendship with Al Gore.

For example, he was appointed to the eleven-member White House Conference on Small Business Commission in 1993.

And he was present when more than 2,000 businessmen and women heard Gore heap praise on him on June 14, 1995, at a White House Conference on Small Business held in Washington.

Ron Harmon, elected to the bench in 1998, is a wealthy land speculator and silent partner in a trucking firm. During its investigation, law enforcement officials say, the TBI looked into the activities of the trucking company. The operation is located in a large cow pasture adjacent to an isolated two-lane, blacktop road. Some of its trucks allegedly transported cocaine, heroin, marijuana and illegal aliens from a subsidiary operation located along the Mexican border all over the United States.

Jones, Harmon and Gore's uncle Whit LaFon, in addition to their link to Gore, shared a link to another sinister character by the name of Junior Sweat. Sweat, 61, an arsonist par excellence and a master methamphetamine manufacturer, was busted for operating the largest methamphetamine lab ever discovered in the state. He died in prison shortly afterward, in July 1999.

Law enforcement officials told WND that Sweat, a nasty-tempered but highly proficient arsonist and convicted cocaine trafficker, divided his time between cooking his deadly drug and hanging around the Jones Motor Company dealership.

In the months preceding the raid on his lab, Sweat was frequently on the phone with state Judge Ron Harmon, another alleged suspect in TBI's truncated probe. Sweat's widow, Janice Walker, said Sweat would shoo her out of the room and lower his voice when on the phone with Harmon.

And when Junior was arrested in June in the raid on his meth lab, he asked Walker to call "the only (attorney) who can get me of jail." The lawyer, she said, was LaFon.

"Junior was so good he could burn concrete," Chief Cannon said. "He could be mean, violent. He owned a beer joint in Wayne County, Tenn., and later on they dug bodies up out back."

Whenever he wasn't locked up, Sweat closely allied himself with Jones and his family.

He was managing a farm owned by Clark's father, Claude Jones, when Claude died in 1973. Shortly after Claude Jones' funeral, Junior moved in with Clark's mother, Joanne Jones. He remained with her for some eight years before returning to prison.

A number of residents of Savannah told WorldNetDaily that during Junior's years with Joanne Jones, he became almost a surrogate father to Clark and his younger brother, Charlie. They say that Clark and Charlie referred to Junior as their "uncle" or their "step-father."

Clark Jones adamantly denied that he ever used those terms of endearment or enjoyed a close relationship with Sweat. "Junior was a very bad person. He had a relationship with my mother, a very terrible relationship. I hated that son of a bitch," he told WND.

Despite these harsh words, police sources say Clark Jones allowed Junior to hang around the showrooms of his two Savannah dealerships four days a week. Cannon said Junior used the remaining three days of the week to cook methamphetamine.

Although Jones insisted that Junior might have been visiting the dealership talking to one of his car salesmen, Cannon scoffed at that, saying, "Junior always hung out with the Jones boys (Clark and Charlie)."

Cannon and Roberts state flatly that Junior torched the Jones family's car dealership. The fire erupted at 1 a.m. on Wednesday, Dec. 3, 1980, on Wayne Road, an extension of Savannah's main drag.

Two days before the fire, a state auditor, Mary Towater, arrived in Savannah for a scheduled appointment to examine the Jones Motor Company's books.

Towater's car broke down, and she brought it to another Savannah dealer to be repaired. While she was waiting for her car to be repaired, Towater told this dealer that she was in town to determine if the Jones dealership routinely cheated the state on its taxes.

The dealership's corrugated metal main building was gutted. The financial data sought by Towater was destroyed. State Fire Marshal Robert Frost said the blaze started with papers in the office.

"You could smell the heavy odor of gasoline in the drawers of a desk. Gasoline was dripping out on the floor," Frost said, adding that there was no forced entry, meaning that it was an inside job.

There was only one suspect, Frost said: Junior Sweat.

Clark Jones told WND that the dealership wasn't insured. However, James Beller of the Frank T. Bass Insurance Co. in Whiteville, Tenn., said his company paid the Jones family $100,000 for the building and $30,000 for the contents. Beller said he's sure Junior burned the place down.

A state official, who was thoroughly familiar with Jones Motor Company's financial standing at the time of the arson, said the dealership was worth considerably less than $130,000.

Jones didn't dismiss the possibility that Junior was responsible for the fire when he spoke to WND. Janice Walker said Junior bragged to her on more than one occasion that he had torched the Jones dealership, and Cannon, the police chief, says he has absolutely no doubt that Junior was the arsonist.

Junior was never arrested for these arsons, but he was arrested for arson for hire in 1981, after his co-conspirator taped him and turned the incriminating tape over to State Fire Marshal James "Pa-Paw" Robertson. Junior served six years in prison on that charge.

In 1987, he was sentenced for 40 years (eventually serving 11) on a series of charges -- arson for hire, possession of a firearm by a convicted felon and possession of three ounces of cocaine.

A hulking man who stood six feet, three inches tall, Junior, a chronic alcoholic, became even nastier during the winter and spring months of 1999, a time when he was setting up a monster methamphetamine laboratory, Janice Walker said.

Walker is a teetotaler who regularly attends church, but by her own admission she could be one tough cookie when she was threatened. She says Junior repeatedly threatened to kill her or burn down her home if she deserted him. Junior said that in the event he got busted, he had previously arranged to have somebody kill her.

"I told Junior, 'Smith & Wesson didn't get rich by just making one gun,'" Walker said. "You've got a gun, and I've got a gun. If you try to kill me or try to burn down my house, I'll blow your head off!"

During February, March and early April of 1999, then-Hardin County chief narcotics investigator Larry Phelps was developing information on Junior's operation, but it would not be until June 10, 1999, three months after the TBI closed its Hardin County drug inquiry, that an informant, Bubba Harris, one of Junior Sweat's associates, provided the Decatur County, Tenn., Sheriff's Department and the federal Drug Enforcement Administration with the exact location of Junior's meth lab in Decatur County.

Harris had been arrested on Dec. 16, 1998, when his meth lab in Hardin County was raided by Phelps and DEA agents. He is currently serving time in a federal penitentiary.

Affidavits and search warrants filed in U.S. District Court in Jackson show that Larry Joe had loaned Bubba up to an ounce of meth at a time to help alleviate some of Bubba's money problems.

Junior's lab was situated back in the woods, far away from the nearest road, because production of meth causes a distinct, easily traceable odor.

Sheriff's deputies and DEA agents surrounded the lab, arresting Junior and his partner, Larry Joe Franks.

Janice Walker said her husband and Franks, who were both on parole at the time of the raid, planned to operate the drug factory just two months. They would net $20 million apiece and then retire.

Decatur County Sheriff's Deputy Terry Tolley, a narcotics officer who participated in the raid, estimates that Junior's meth had a street value of at least $40 million.

The raiders, who wore oxygen masks, respirators and body armor, were startled when they broke into the lab and discovered that it contained one thousand gallons of highly toxic anhydrous ammonia, which, according to one law enforcement source, "could have changed the course of the Tennessee River if it had ignited." This highly volatile chemical and the other ingredients were worth at least $1 million, which led police to the conclusion that someone had fronted Junior and Larry Joe a lot of money to start his meth lab.

Nearly a year after the raid, the drug factory's site is now an environmental nightmare, with blackened grass, blighted trees and a foul chemical odor clinging to the countryside.

After his arrest Junior Sweat was really worried, especially since he had a lengthy criminal history. He told his wife that he expected to be sentenced to life without parole.

Walker said Junior counted on Jones to bail him out after he was arrested, but that didn't happen.

Junior also attempted to get help from Harmon. Harmon had previously represented Junior when the judge was in private practice, but Harmon didn't do anything to help Junior either.

While Junior was in jail, said Walker, he asked her to contact LaFon, telling her that LaFon was the only one who could get him out of jail. The 81-year-old LaFon and uncle to Al Gore is a former prosecutor and state judge.

Janice Walker knew LaFon well, having once been offered a job as a housekeeper living in LaFon's well-guarded, fortified compound. She rejected the job because of the isolation. She said Junior died before she had time to contact LaFon.

LaFon told WND he knew Junior and was familiar with the raid on his meth factory, but said no one had contacted him about representing Junior.

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