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Charles Morgan was at the end of his rope. The 39-year-old entrepreneur was the owner and president of Statewide Escrow Service, a real estate company in Tucson, Arizona.
He had a loving wife and four beautiful girls. They lived in an upper-middle class home outside the city. The Morgans were lucky compared to other US families in the mid to late 1970s. The oil crisis hadn't touched them. Charles was a white-collar guy, and white-collar work rarely dampens during an economic downturn. Only one other industry thrives while everything else suffers: crime.
Money drives desperate people to unspeakable acts. It convinces and corrupts stalwart men to stoop to levels they never thought they could. And when they do, they realize how easy it is. Charles tumbled down a rabbit hole of backdoor real estate deals, fraud, and government corruption. When the police came knocking, Charles panicked. The thought of watching his daughters grow up through prison bars haunted him. He'd rather not watch them grow up at all.
So, on June 18th, 1977, Charles drove his Mercury Cougar about 40 miles southwest of Tucson. He grabbed his .357 Magnum, stepped out of the car, and fell to his knees. Charles shot himself once in the back of the head. He collapsed to the ground, his gun landing beside him, and there he sat for several hours. Later that day, two young kids were walking by and found him.
He was wearing a bulletproof vest and a belt with a hidden blade. He still had his leather holster attached to his hip. There were no footprints leading to or from the scene, and there were no fingerprints on Charles' gun. There were no signs of a struggle either, leading investigators to believe Charles Morgan killed himself. He was at the end of his rope, so he put a bullet in his head. That's the story they stuck with, and that's the story they want you to believe.
But it's not the whole story. Charles Morgan didn't kill himself. If he did, it was the most staged, elaborate, and over-the-top suicide you'll ever hear of. His murder was likely one of many gangland-style executions in 1970s Arizona. The state had become a hotbed for mafia activity as a new scam dominated the market. Land fraud wasn't as attractive as bootlegging, drug running, or extortion.
but it made just as much money. The best part? It was all anonymous. That was thanks to an odd Arizona law that allowed the blind purchase of land. Buyers and sellers didn't have to know each other's names. Neither did the state. The only person who knew was the middleman, the escrow agent overseeing the sale, people like Charles Morgan. The mafia had a tight grip on Tucson, Tempe, Phoenix, and Scottsdale in 1977.
They had police on their roster, judges in their pockets, and politicians in their ears. Corruption spanned the totem pole, making it impossible to expose without risking your life. Several journalists learned that lesson the hard way. Informants died in car bombs. Knowledge was like cancer: the more you had, the more danger you were in. Charles' death, however, was more puzzling than any other.
That's because it was full of puzzles and cryptic clues, like something from the Da Vinci Code, Bible verses, marked bills, maps, handwritten notes, strange calls from a woman calling herself Green Eyes, and a hallucinogenic poison that could kill a man for speaking. Anybody who thinks Charles Morgan committed suicide is lying to themselves. Who killed Charles Morgan? Why did they kill Charles Morgan?
And why is it that 50 years later, police in Tucson still believe his death was a suicide? Part 1: In the days of your youth Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, "I find no pleasure in them." Ecclesiastes 12:1 Little is known about the days of Charles Morgan's youth.
Articles from 1977 suggest he and his wife, Ruth, were together for 19 years before he died. They married in 1958 when Charles was 20. It's unclear how old Ruth was. She was likely the same age, if not younger. They had four girls, all of whom were school age when their father died. Charles' story begins in January of 1977, when he was fired from Western Title Insurance Agency.
All we know about the firing is that it came after a verbal dispute with the supervisor. Charles bought controlling shares of statewide escrow shortly after, making him the owner and president. This tells us several things about Charles' character. He was wealthy, at least, rich enough to buy an escrow firm. He was also ambitious and possibly hard-headed. Charles wanted to do things his way, so he bought his own company.
But starting his own company wasn't that easy. The state banking department threatened to deny Charles the license he needed to operate statewide escrow. You see, Charles knew things about his old employer and the bank they dealt with.
things they didn't want the public to know. The banking department pressured Charles to testify against Banco Internacional de Arizona and Western Title Insurance. They believed both firms were involved in criminal activity and that Charles was the missing link. From what we can gather, Charles agreed to testify and was ultimately granted his license to operate statewide escrow. He, however, feared for his life.
statewide would be Western titles direct competitor. And these people didn't appreciate the friendly competition. Two months later, on March 22nd, 1977, Charles vanished after dropping his daughters off at school. He never showed up for work and didn't come home that night. Ruth worried for three days and nights. Then, on March 25th, around 2:00 a.m., she heard a thump coming from the back door. It was Charles.
He looked like he'd been through hell and back. His hair was a mess, his face was weak and hungry, his clothes were dirty, and two sets of plastic handcuffs hung from his wrists and feet. She asked if he was okay, but Charles couldn't speak. He motioned for a pen and paper. Kidnappers had grabbed him on his way to work and held him captive for three days. Before letting him go, they lined his throat with a hallucinogenic drug.
It swelled his tongue, leaving him unable to speak. They said it would kill him if he tried. Ruth wanted to call the police, but Charles grunted and signaled, no, these were bad people. If they saw cops at the house, it would be like signing his family's death warrant. The Morgans were utterly alone. Charles only referred to his kidnappers as them.
He said they held him at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, about 108 miles northwest of Tucson. They could have been anybody: the Mafia, Western Title, cartel associates of Banco Internacional. Whoever they were, they scared Charles half to death. He began wearing a bulletproof vest wherever he went. The girls couldn't play outside unless he or Ruth stood nearby. Charles would drive them to school himself.
Who knows how deep the rabbit hole went? The bus driver could have been in on it. Charles began carrying his .357 Magnum. According to Ruth, he was against guns until 1977. She said he was a member of the University of Arizona rifle team, though he hadn't carried or fired a weapon since graduation. On May 11, 1977,
Charles provided secret testimony regarding Banco Internacional and Western title to the Attorney General's office. The nature of this testimony is unclear. Its secrecy points us in a few directions. Charles didn't want to testify in public, as doing so would get him killed. Was he involved in something shady? Or did he know too much about shady people? As we mentioned, land fraud wasn't as flashy as extortion or illegal gambling.
but it was far more profitable and easy to get away with. Arizona's anonymous land-buying laws made it a wash bin for dirty money. Northern gangsters could invest in land anonymously, inflate its value, and then make off without leaving a trace. According to the New York Times, here's how it worked. It begins with high-pressure sales campaigns in the northern U.S. or foreign countries, such as Japan, Germany, and the Philippine Islands.
The campaigns target people looking for warm vacation destinations in the Arizona desert. They entice these buyers with fake pictures, false promises, and unbeatable prices. One could buy an acre of land for between $2,000 and $3,000. That'd be about $16,000 today. The acres offer scenic views of lakes and rolling hills. They're near main roads, making them easy to access from the highway.
You'll have all the peace and tranquility you want without being in the middle of nowhere. But you know what they say about things that sound too good to be true? There are no lakes, roads, or rolling hills. Only dry, desolate, worthless land. The sellers, or should we say scammers, then build an endless paper trail. Mortgages are bought and sold multiple times over at attractive rates.
The scammers use those promissory notes to obtain inflated loans on the land. In most cases, they have an insider at the bank willing to cut a few corners for a share. The scammer skips town with the money, leaving some poor German schmuck holding the bag. Some mobsters took a different approach to exploit Arizona's anonymous law more efficiently. They created multiple shell corporations that sold the land back and forth between each other.
They jack up the price every time, thus inflating the land's value. Imagine you and a friend handing money back and forth to make your treehouse look like a multi-million dollar forest villa. Banks see these companies buying and selling and think the property must be worth something. They swoop in and offer massive loans, believing they'll make a killing on the interest. If the buyer defaults, the bank will seize the land as collateral.
The buyer always defaults and skips town with millions of dollars. When the bank arrives to collect their collateral, they realize they invested in a child's treehouse in the desert. They were better off settling a million dollars on fire and using it for warmth. It gets cold in the middle of nowhere, especially at night. Charles Morgan would have been the middleman between two mafia members and a land fraud scheme. He was the only one who knew their names and contact info.
And they paid a pretty penny for his silence. And we all know how the mafia deals with people who can't shut their mouths.
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Part 2. Before the Silver Cord is Broken Remember him. Before the silver cord is severed and the golden bowl is broken.
before the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the wheel broken at the well, and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. Ecclesiastes 12:6-7 Charles Morgan vanished again on June 7th, 1977. Ruth had taken the girls to school while Charles, as far as she knew, attended a Masonic meeting. It's unclear if this meeting was a cover to keep Ruth in the dark,
Charles called his office that afternoon, telling them he'd be there in 30 minutes. He never arrived, and nobody ever saw Charles Morgan alive again. Nobody other than Mrs. Greeneyes. Nine days after Charles vanished, Ruth received a strange phone call. A woman calling herself Mrs. Greeneyes was on the other line. "Ruthie?" she asked. "Yes?" Ruth said.
"Chuck is alright. Ecclesiastes 12: 1-8." Green Eyes said and hung up. On June 18th, two locals found Charles' car parked about 30 feet off the highway, roughly 40 miles outside of Tucson. Charles lay beside it with a gunshot wound in the back of his head. He was wearing his bulletproof vest. His .357 rested beside his body, having only fired one bullet.
The sheriff's department determined that Charles had only been dead for 12 hours. There were no prints on his gun, nor were there any signs of a struggle. No footprints led to or from the scene, suggesting Morgan was alone all night. Inside Charles' car, police found a piece of his tooth wrapped in a white napkin in the back seat. To this day, they've never offered a reasonable explanation for how it got there.
Besides the tooth, police found more weapons, ammo, and several shortwave radios in his car. In the front seat, they found handwritten directions to their exact location. They discovered that Charles had rigged his car so that the doors could be unlocked by pressing a hidden button on the fender. It was something like you'd see in a Bond film. Charles was wearing his vest, holsters, and a belt with a blade hidden in the buckle.
Finally, police found a two-dollar bill tucked into Charles' waistband with secret messages scribbled on it. Written on the left side of the bill's face were seven Hispanic names, one on top of the other. They were listed alphabetically, A through G. Above the names was Ecclesiastes 12. Someone had also drawn arrows in the bill's serial number to indicate verses 1 through 8.
The same biblical passage Mrs. Greeneyes told Ruth to read a few nights before. The back of the two-dollar bill features John Trumbull's famous painting, "The Signing of the Declaration of Independence," depicting the Founding Fathers signing the historical document. All the signers were numbered one through seven, though we're not sure who was who.
To the right of the Founding Fathers was a crudely drawn map showing an area between Tucson and the Mexican border. It led to Robles Junction and Solacity, two towns known for drug smuggling. After examining the bill, Ruth confirmed it was all Charles' handwriting. According to the county pathologist, Charles died of a single gunshot wound to the top back of his head. They even found the bullet lodged behind his front teeth.
Despite the execution-style killing and all the strange evidence, police ruled the death of Charles Morgan as a suicide. They closed the case and wiped their hands clean. To support their suicide angle, police pointed to gunshot residue on Charles' left hand. But Charles Morgan was right-handed. According to Ruth, Charles could do practically nothing with his left hand. The angle of the gunshot is also questionable.
There are no photos available of Charles' wound. We can only go off the pathologist's report. But try this experiment for yourself. With your non-dominant hand, pretend to press a gun to the top back of your head and pull the trigger. It's not impossible, right? You can move your head to the side and hold the gun at an angle. It's not impossible, but it's awkward, isn't it? Why go through so much hassle if this was it for Charles Morgan?
Why not stick the gun in his mouth? Or press it to the side of his head? Next, let's talk about the lack of fingerprints. One of two things must be true for there to be no prints: the shooter was wearing gloves, or the shooter cleaned the gun before dropping it. As far as we can tell, Charles was not wearing gloves when he died. His prints would be on the grip and trigger if he fired the gun. Since there were no prints, we can assume somebody wearing gloves fired the weapon.
where they cleaned and left the gun near Charles' body. The lack of footprints shakes things up a bit. It would be impossible for someone to execute Charles, plant the tooth in his car, and clean the scene without leaving footprints. They could rake over their footprints, but police would likely see the disturbed ground. Remember, Charles died 30 feet from the highway. His killer could have easily parked on the road, executed Charles, and then raked his way back to the car.
It's far-fetched, but plausible. Two days after Charles' death, police got an interesting new lead. Mrs. Green Eyes called and told them Charles had been with her at a motel in the days leading up to his demise. They confirmed this through motel records, showing Charles had registered at the Easy Eight Motel on Silver Lake Road. Today, the location is still a motel, but operates under a different name.
It's about 45 miles east of the spot on Highway 86 where Charles died. Green Eyes told police that she'd met Morgan a month prior. They'd met on four occasions over the past two weeks. It's unclear if their relationship was friendly or sexual. During their final meeting, Charles showed her a suitcase full of cash. He had between $60,000 and $90,000, all in $20 and $50 bills.
He said there was a contract out on his life, and he believed paying the hitman what he wanted plus more would save him. It was probably the easiest $90,000 this hitman had ever made. Police found the briefcase in Charles' car, but there was no money. Green Eyes told police that she and Charles were together two days before he died. In fact, he's the one who told her to call Ruth and say everything would be okay. To this day, nobody knows who Mrs. Green Eyes is.
She never met with the police in person and only agreed to speak over the phone. It's unclear if she was Charles' lover or if she had something to do with his death. Ruth denies the former, and the police don't believe the latter. Meanwhile, Don Devereaux calls bullshit on everything. Part 3: The Arizona Project When people picture gangland, they picture the streets of Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles.
They rarely think of Tucson, Arizona. Lucrative land fraud schemes brought northern mobsters out to the desert. There was Joe Bonanno, leader of one of the five families that controlled La Cosa Nostra. We had Peter Licavoli, a retired mafioso who turned to art theft in his free time. And there was Ned Warren, the so-called "godfather of land fraud." Don Devereaux investigated all of them.
He was a journalist working in Arizona in the late 1970s. He and several others were working on a report called "The Arizona Project," a 23-part investigative series aimed at exposing corruption at the highest level. As you can imagine, plenty of people didn't want that report to come out. Charles Morgan's death was just another red flag for Don. He'd already seen enough people shot and blown up.
The Arizona DA had thrown everything he could at Ned Warren, but he seemed to slip away every time. Then, he convinced Ned's accountant, Ed Lazar, to flip. Ned was gunned down in a Phoenix parking garage the day before he was supposed to testify. His killers were Nick D'Andrea and Robert Hardin, two hitmen from the Chicago mob. Next was Louis Bombasino, aka Joseph Nardi.
In 1970, Lewis testified against his former mob associates. Five of them went to jail, while Lewis went into witness protection under the name Joseph Nardi in Tempe, Arizona. But Lewis couldn't keep his nose clean. He got in trouble with the police, which helped expose his true identity. Someone in the department must have leaked the information.
On October 6th, 1975, Lewis started the engine on his brand new Lincoln Continental. He blew up like Michael's Sicilian wife in The Godfather. The explosion was so massive that it allegedly shattered 100 apartment windows. Debris landed about a quarter mile from his car. If Lewis had been skulking around the Arizona underworld, he would have learned something about these land fraud cases.
His reputation for being a snitch ultimately did him in. Next was Don Bowles, another investigative journalist working for the Arizona Republic. Bowles was a dedicated reporter, lauded by his peers and loathed by those he investigated. As the 70s rolled on, he began peeling back the layers on the land fraud scheme. He learned that this onion stunk of corruption.
The Arizona Republic was the state's largest and most influential newspaper at the time. It represented hardline conservative views, and anything that made a Republican look bad wouldn't make the front page. Or any page. According to a March 1977 New York Times article, "The Republic was regarded as a staunch supporter of the Goldwater wing of the Republican Party and an entrenched part of the business community that controls the state."
So when Don Bowles accused Senator Barry Goldwater of condoning the presence of organized crime in Arizona, the paper refused to print it. According to the paper, the Arizona Project series contained statements and allegations for which the Republic had not been able to obtain sufficient documentation to justify publication. Those statements and allegations were enough to kill Don Bowles. It was June 2nd, 1976.
Bowles left a note in his typewriter saying he was heading to lunch to meet an informant. This informant, John Adamson, allegedly had information that would blow the land fraud story wide open. He could prove the Mafia was working with high-level state politicians. Bowles arrived at the Hotel Clarendon and waited several minutes in the lobby. That's when Adamson appeared at the front desk, and the two had a quick conversation.
Bowles left the hotel, walked across 4th Avenue, and jumped in his car. As he pulled out, a remote-controlled bomb went off under his car. Six sticks of dynamite shredded the vehicle and Bowles along with it. Yet he clung to life. He hung on long enough to utter four final words. John Adamson, M-Prize, Mafia.
Bowles spent the next 10 days at St. Joseph's Hospital. A tube in his throat rendered him speechless. Both his legs were amputated, and he eventually died from his injuries. Adamson pleaded guilty in 1977 to building and planting the bomb that killed Bowles. Somebody hired him to do it, but nobody can prove who it was. M-Prize refers to a New York-based horse and dog racing company.
Bulls had been investigating them and their alleged ties to organized crime. The word "mafia" speaks for itself. Even after his death, the Arizona Republic refused to publish the Arizona Project. Thankfully, other papers did. The words "corruption," "politician," "prostitution," "gambling," "drugs," "fraud," "mafia," and "gold water" were all over it. The Arizona Project went viral in March of 1977.
The water was boiling. Conspirators were scared, and people like Charles Morgan were caught in the middle. Two men appeared on Ruth's doorstep shortly after Charles' death. They claimed to be from the FBI, flashing their badges like a magician doing a card trick. They tore Ruth's house apart, clearly looking for something. However, they left empty-handed. Ruth has no idea what they could have been looking for. Don Devereaux knew fish when he smelled it.
He made a FOIA request to the FBI regarding their information on Charles Morgan. The FBI responded as if Charles Morgan didn't exist. Despite investigating Charles and interviewing his lawyer, they said they'd never heard of him. When Charles returned home after his first abduction, he told Ruth that the kidnappers had taken his treasury identification. It was the first she'd ever heard of any treasury department.
Charles said he'd been working undercover with the Treasury Department for two years, learning about land fraud schemes and reporting back. It all culminated in his secret testimony in May of 1977, which ultimately got him killed. If Charles was working undercover, Don Devereux believes the message on the $2 bill were some kind of secret code for the FBI. They were the key to unlocking new information, like something from the Da Vinci Code.
Or the $2 bill was a clever distraction planted by a cunning assassin. They knew people would spend their lives trying to decipher it when, in reality, it was just gibberish. Charles Morgan may have died in 1977, but that didn't mean his story was over. Don Devereux wasn't going to rest until he found the answer. Unfortunately, his quest for truth got two more people killed. Part 4. The Rabbit Hole
On February 7th, 1990, an episode of Unsolved Mysteries aired about Charles Morgan. Don Devereaux was working for the show at the time and was a prominent figure in the episode. It went into great detail about Morgan's death, Bowles' murder, and the corruption that plagued 1970s Arizona. After the episode, Don received several calls and tips about the Morgan mystery. He learned that Charles had been laundering money for the mafia through his escrow company.
He also helped move gold for them. At one point, handling over $1 billion in illegal gold, Don learned that corrupt CIA agents could be involved. He discovered that Charles kept detailed files of all his illegal transitions, yet nobody knew where they were. Perhaps the FBI agents who showed up at Ruth's door were looking for those files but couldn't find them. Things got hotter as Don kept digging.
Somebody wanted him dead, and a contract was put out on his life. Unfortunately, the hitman shot the wrong guy. On May 14th, 1990, 35-year-old Doug Johnston arrived for work. He was a computer engineer working for a local graphics company in Phoenix. He was married with a 10-year-old daughter. He was an ordinary guy living an ordinary life. Charles Morgan, Arizona land fraud, and the mafia meant nothing to him.
He arrived at work around midnight to start his late shift. About an hour later, his coworkers found him dead in his car with a bullet wound behind his left ear. He was covered in blood, slumped over the steering wheel with the music still playing. He was shot once behind the left ear from 12 inches away. Police didn't find a weapon at the scene, though they did recover a .25 caliber shell casing. Like Charles, Doug was right-handed. It wouldn't make sense for him to shoot himself behind the left ear.
Despite all the evidence of murder, the medical examiner wrote that the wound could have been self-inflicted. Police treated it like a homicide but never ruled out suicide. To this day, it remains unsolved. Coincidentally, Devereaux lived across the street from Doug Johnston's work. He drove the same car and sometimes got Doug's mail by mistake. He was still digging into the Charles Morgan case and thought the whole thing seemed eerily similar.
Could Doug Johnston have been involved? Devereaux put it out of his mind. He refocused on the Morgan case, which led him to 44-year-old Danny Casolaro. Danny was an investigative journalist in Washington, D.C. He was digging into corruption far deeper than Don could ever hope. We're talking secret societies, Ronald Reagan, Iranian hostages, and secret government spy software.
He was working on a story called "The Octopus" centered around international cabals and their collaboration with the US government. Danny's research into illegal gold transactions led him to Charles Morgan. He contacted Devereaux, knowing he was the go-to expert on everything Morgan related. They spoke, and Devereaux agreed to send Danny everything he had, but Danny never read it.
On August 10th, 1991, the housekeeping staff at the DC Sheridan found Danny's naked body in the tub. His wrists had been slashed deeply over a dozen times. According to police, the scene was so gruesome that one of the housekeepers fainted when she saw it. They ruled it a suicide, which irked Devereaux and Danny's family.
Danny's brother was a doctor. According to him, Danny was so squeamish at the sight of blood that a simple finger prick would freak him out. If he was going to kill himself, there's no way he'd slit his wrists. Shortly after Danny's death, Devereaux got a call from a trusted source at the CIA. They said the Johnston murder was a botched hit, a sad case of mistaken identity. There was still an active contract on Devereaux's life. In fact, there were several.
Despite being a hunted man, Don Devereaux is still alive and kicking. In 2022, he helped put together a true crime film about the death of Don Bowles. You can watch Who Killed Don Bowles on Amazon Prime Video. Perhaps Don is too involved to kill now. If he ever committed suicide, nobody would believe it.
In 2024, Netflix released a documentary called "American Conspiracy: The Octopus Murders," exploring the death of Danny Casolaro. Some believe Danny was chasing wild conspiracy theories. For example, he believed in the 1980 October surprise theory. It suggests that Ronald Reagan made a secret deal with Iranian leaders during the Iranian hostage crisis.
He allegedly told them to delay the release of American hostages until after the 1980 election to make incumbent President Jimmy Carter look bad. Reagan won the election. Shortly after his inaugural speech, Iran released the American hostages. Danny was about to expose the theory before he committed suicide. Ruth Morgan passed away in 2006, still believing that somebody killed her husband. Charles' daughters maintain that belief.
His daughter, Megan, told the Arizona Daily Star: "My father had a lot of information about people here in Tucson. A lot of information about politicians, people who are still alive that work in our government. He had that information." And they wanted to silence him. Unfortunately, Charles suffered from an incurable disease. He knew too much. And in gangland, the prognosis for knowing too much is always death.
Hey guys, thanks for listening. I want to give you all a quick heads up regarding some upcoming political ads you may start hearing leading up to this year's presidential election.
These ads do not represent my own political viewpoint. So if you hear a political ad play on the podcast and it's not in my own voice, then it has absolutely nothing to do with me personally as a podcaster. Thank you again for being a dedicated listener of mine, and I can't wait to have another amazing year with you guys. I'll see you in the next episode.
