Big Trouble

According to the Denver Police Department, nearly 70 percent of identity-theft crimes are committed by meth addicts who work in organized gangs. In contrast to crackheads, who will do impulsive muggings or burglaries for quick cash, methheads will spend days tinkering with their plans, like an army of criminals that never sleeps, finding new and creative means of check and Internet fraud to feed their habit.

One of Haney's helpers in this project was a teenager we'll call Hillary, who had recently moved out of her parents' Denver home after becoming addicted to meth. Within a month, she was part of a ring of speed addicts who'd score large amounts of cash for drugs through numerous criminal enterprises, most often identity theft. Hillary had heard about the escort business through a friend who was a former employee, and she went to talk to Haney about a job. "Basically, it was just a normal kind of interview," she remembers, "except at the end he pulled out a pipe and started smoking with me -- which is what got my attention, because at the time, I was addicted to meth, and anyone who would smoke it with me was my friend."

Most of the girls working for Haney now were speed freaks, and he was known for giving potential employees a personal "tryout." But some of his employees had no idea how far Haney's drug use had gone -- or how deep his deception.

"I think he kind of kept that low-key," says Hillary. "Some of the girls knew he was getting high, and some of them were getting high with us. But for the most part, I don't think that most of them knew what we were doing, that he was using their identities."

A computer whiz, Hillary says she and Haney would create fake checks and driver's licenses on his computer equipment and then recruit other addicts to pass the forgeries at local businesses and banks. When the supply of willing minions dried up, Haney went out himself and attempted to pass a fake check for $800 at a Bank One. When the check number came up as a duplicate, the teller called police. Haney, who was described by bank employees as agitated and impatient, told the responding police officer that he had received the check for the sale of some kind of artwork.

Haney was arrested, charged with forgery and ordered to appear in court later that month, but didn't show up. Instead, he headed back to Texas to make another attempt at leaving the life and sobering up. The attempt failed.

A few days later, Hillary was arrested at a King Soopers in another forgery incident.

One member of the DPD's narcotic task force doesn't buy the image of Haney as the big boss; he was more of an "organizer," he says. The detective believes that Haney's main suppliers were a ring of white supremacists. It was a more dangerous crowd than Haney was used to, and the criminal possibilities were endless.

"He was just a scumbag. He had no morals. He didn't give a damn about anybody," Hillary says. "He'd screw anybody over for a dope sack. And that's how the drug works: You get addicted, and then after that you don't care, as long as you're high."

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In October 2005, April was looking for another job and started randomly calling escort agencies that advertised online. One in particular caught her eye: Touch Companions, whose ad read: "Do you need to make money? Think you're too old?"

April needed the money. A few years before, her husband had beaten her, and she'd suffered short-term memory loss that made it difficult to work. She'd tried to run her own cleaning service, but that hadn't panned out.

So now she dialed Touch Companions. Gary Haney answered.

The two hadn't spoken since April had quit Colorado Companions, more than four years earlier. Haney had sold that company to a former client for a fraction of its true worth -- just another sign of his desperate state.

April went to see Haney, and they smoked meth together, she says.

She started working again, but this operation was very different from Haney's previous business. Only one other girl was working for Haney: Her name was Angel, and she was the girlfriend of Haney's roommate and business partner, Steve Papson. The house at 31st and York was dark and worn down, an embarrassment compared to Haney's former kingdom, but he didn't have much choice. By now, he had screwed over so many people that he was the black sheep of the industry.

"He was getting death threats," says a former friend. "Someone came into his house and knocked him around one night, and he had no idea who was responsible. I know between three people, he owed over $50,000."

"Gary is the worst-case scenario," another industry insider says. "He is the stereotype. He's below a pimp."