This may sound familiar to those who know Oma Hamou Miss Thang, or not...well probably does.
Michelle Roberts
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Monday, October 29, 2007
SAN ANTONIO — It's not much to hold a suspect on: the alleged theft of $2,500 from an Austin musician who thought that an investment could bring him some extra cash for more studio time.
It's a tiny amount, really, compared with the tens of thousands of dollars that others say they've lost to the charming stranger who walked into their lives. But the warrant is a first step toward stopping a guy who acquaintances say crisscrossed the country, making promises, accepting cash and vanishing, always with a seemingly heartfelt apology scrawled on yellow legal paper.
"The long con," it's called, and those who knew him say David Scott Srail got very good at it.
Blessed with a wide smile and a glowing tan, Srail has dark hair that looks like he just ran his fingers through it. He's smart and funny and a good salesman.
People who befriended the 40-year-old as he moved from Cleveland to Fort Lauderdale, Fla., and eventually to Austin and San Antonio used the same word over and over again: charismatic.
The Ohio native was an experienced handicapper even in college, and he competed in the Penn National World Series of Handicapping in 1991. Working in the public relations department at the Cleveland area's Thistledown race track, he hosted handicapping seminars but quit in 1995.
Fellow horse bettor and college friend Greg Columbus gave him his $10,000 inheritance, all the money Columbus had, so Srail could supposedly invest it in a family real estate deal in 1992. Srail even signed a promissory note.
Then he stalled and made excuses. Columbus finally sued, and Srail's father paid off the debt, Columbus said. In all, Srail's family has bailed him out to the tune of $100,000, according to a handwritten letter he sent to a friend.
His family declined to discuss his history in detail. His older brother, Ken, called it "a source of pain and sadness."
"It was a lesson learned," said Columbus, now 39.
Others would learn lessons, too.
In Florida, Srail's friends say he bilked them of up to $200,000 before disappearing in September 2005. They all got handwritten letters on yellow legal paper, including one that read, "How does one explain that this person they've come to know and love has essentially been a fraud? I am."
Months later, after passing through Arizona, Srail was looking for work at a day labor center in San Antonio. That's where Eddie Ortiz, the owner of a local landscape company, met him in September 2006.
Srail worked hard, Ortiz said. He shoveled rock and planted flowers, all the while telling jokes and talking about the importance of trust.
Ortiz, 27, built his business from scratch and has seen liars and addicts aplenty. But he had no idea that Srail, who sat side-by-side with him in his work truck for months, could be taking him for a ride.
"He's very good at what he does," Ortiz said, adding that he gave Srail about $6,500 to invest in antiques and real estate. Ortiz also lent him a car so he could regularly drive to Austin for a paid medical study he was participating in.
There, the pattern continued: A couple of fellow study participants got to know Srail while waiting in line. They shot hoops or went for drinks in their off-time. Srail often picked up the check.
The man whom folks in Austin knew as David Scott claimed to be writing a book and said he had a wife and son who died in a car accident. He often talked of loyalty and friendship.
Study participant Juan Gonzalez, a 30-year-old musician, invested $2,500 in a purported real estate deal that was supposed to quickly give him $6,200 back.
When Srail took off in May, Gonzalez didn't think much of it — until he and a study participant who said he had given Srail about $9,000 realized that they couldn't find him.
Repeated phone calls brought only voice mail.
Gonzalez remembered having seen "David Scott" use the name "Srail" on a sign-in sheet for the medical study. He punched the name into Google and instantly found a Web site that detailed Srail's history.
Gonzalez's heart sank. The site outlined a pattern of promissory notes, unfulfilled promises and even handwritten letters that Gonzalez immediately recognized.
Gonzalez, who knew about Srail's landscaping job, contacted Ortiz in San Antonio. When Ortiz went to the ratty room Srail had been renting, he said, there were betting slips everywhere.
"I never really think that someone can lie right to your face and pretend to be your friend," Gonzalez said.
He called Austin police.
Often, authorities treat such cases as a civil matter. They are difficult to prove. The line between a scam and a bad investment can be blurry. When money is voluntarily handed over, it can be hard to make a case that the money was swindled, not merely a loan or gift, said FBI spokesman Eric Vasys.
"Law enforcement has never touched it, because it kind of borders on a civil matter," said Austin Detective Roger Bailey, who got Gonzalez's call.
But Srail's consistent pattern — similar stories, similar investment plans, those letters — were what most convinced the detective that this is a prosecutable case. An arrest warrant, based on Gonzalez's complaint, was issued in July.
It's unclear where Srail is now. Police can't say. An extensive public records search by the AP turned up no current listings for him.
"I don't know where he is," Bailey said, "but I guarantee you that he is greasing someone up." And he hopes Srail's consistency will be his undoing.
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Monday, October 29, 2007
SAN ANTONIO — It's not much to hold a suspect on: the alleged theft of $2,500 from an Austin musician who thought that an investment could bring him some extra cash for more studio time.
It's a tiny amount, really, compared with the tens of thousands of dollars that others say they've lost to the charming stranger who walked into their lives. But the warrant is a first step toward stopping a guy who acquaintances say crisscrossed the country, making promises, accepting cash and vanishing, always with a seemingly heartfelt apology scrawled on yellow legal paper.
"The long con," it's called, and those who knew him say David Scott Srail got very good at it.
Blessed with a wide smile and a glowing tan, Srail has dark hair that looks like he just ran his fingers through it. He's smart and funny and a good salesman.
People who befriended the 40-year-old as he moved from Cleveland to Fort Lauderdale, Fla., and eventually to Austin and San Antonio used the same word over and over again: charismatic.
The Ohio native was an experienced handicapper even in college, and he competed in the Penn National World Series of Handicapping in 1991. Working in the public relations department at the Cleveland area's Thistledown race track, he hosted handicapping seminars but quit in 1995.
Fellow horse bettor and college friend Greg Columbus gave him his $10,000 inheritance, all the money Columbus had, so Srail could supposedly invest it in a family real estate deal in 1992. Srail even signed a promissory note.
Then he stalled and made excuses. Columbus finally sued, and Srail's father paid off the debt, Columbus said. In all, Srail's family has bailed him out to the tune of $100,000, according to a handwritten letter he sent to a friend.
His family declined to discuss his history in detail. His older brother, Ken, called it "a source of pain and sadness."
"It was a lesson learned," said Columbus, now 39.
Others would learn lessons, too.
In Florida, Srail's friends say he bilked them of up to $200,000 before disappearing in September 2005. They all got handwritten letters on yellow legal paper, including one that read, "How does one explain that this person they've come to know and love has essentially been a fraud? I am."
Months later, after passing through Arizona, Srail was looking for work at a day labor center in San Antonio. That's where Eddie Ortiz, the owner of a local landscape company, met him in September 2006.
Srail worked hard, Ortiz said. He shoveled rock and planted flowers, all the while telling jokes and talking about the importance of trust.
Ortiz, 27, built his business from scratch and has seen liars and addicts aplenty. But he had no idea that Srail, who sat side-by-side with him in his work truck for months, could be taking him for a ride.
"He's very good at what he does," Ortiz said, adding that he gave Srail about $6,500 to invest in antiques and real estate. Ortiz also lent him a car so he could regularly drive to Austin for a paid medical study he was participating in.
There, the pattern continued: A couple of fellow study participants got to know Srail while waiting in line. They shot hoops or went for drinks in their off-time. Srail often picked up the check.
The man whom folks in Austin knew as David Scott claimed to be writing a book and said he had a wife and son who died in a car accident. He often talked of loyalty and friendship.
Study participant Juan Gonzalez, a 30-year-old musician, invested $2,500 in a purported real estate deal that was supposed to quickly give him $6,200 back.
When Srail took off in May, Gonzalez didn't think much of it — until he and a study participant who said he had given Srail about $9,000 realized that they couldn't find him.
Repeated phone calls brought only voice mail.
Gonzalez remembered having seen "David Scott" use the name "Srail" on a sign-in sheet for the medical study. He punched the name into Google and instantly found a Web site that detailed Srail's history.
Gonzalez's heart sank. The site outlined a pattern of promissory notes, unfulfilled promises and even handwritten letters that Gonzalez immediately recognized.
Gonzalez, who knew about Srail's landscaping job, contacted Ortiz in San Antonio. When Ortiz went to the ratty room Srail had been renting, he said, there were betting slips everywhere.
"I never really think that someone can lie right to your face and pretend to be your friend," Gonzalez said.
He called Austin police.
Often, authorities treat such cases as a civil matter. They are difficult to prove. The line between a scam and a bad investment can be blurry. When money is voluntarily handed over, it can be hard to make a case that the money was swindled, not merely a loan or gift, said FBI spokesman Eric Vasys.
"Law enforcement has never touched it, because it kind of borders on a civil matter," said Austin Detective Roger Bailey, who got Gonzalez's call.
But Srail's consistent pattern — similar stories, similar investment plans, those letters — were what most convinced the detective that this is a prosecutable case. An arrest warrant, based on Gonzalez's complaint, was issued in July.
It's unclear where Srail is now. Police can't say. An extensive public records search by the AP turned up no current listings for him.
"I don't know where he is," Bailey said, "but I guarantee you that he is greasing someone up." And he hopes Srail's consistency will be his undoing.
posted by Watchtower at 6:36 PM
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