The undercover operation went on for six weeks as various agents, all off-duty policemen and deputies from the towns in Graebel’s Nineteenth District, ventured into Carousel and chatted up the girls. There was no indication that either the girls or their managers were suspicious. Jesse listened to their recorded conversations and became convinced that he could prove a pattern of criminal activity.
When he had enough proof, he filed suit in chancery court of Harrison County seeking to enjoin Carousel from all operations. He notified the state liquor board and demanded it pull the nightclub’s license to sell alcohol. And, he hand-delivered a copy of the lawsuit to the Gulf Coast Register. The newspaper obliged with a front-page story. His war had begun.
Not surprisingly, Ginger Redfield hired Joshua Burch to defend her nightclub, and, in a blustery rebuttal, he denied any criminal wrongdoing and asked the court to dismiss the charges. Jesse pushed hard for an expedited hearing, but Burch proved adept at delaying matters. Two months dragged by as the lawyers filed motion after motion and quibbled over a day in court.
Needless to say, the startling move by the new DA rattled the underworld. With gambling seriously curtailed on the Coast, the nightclubs relied on prostitution to rake in extra cash. Most were doing well with drinking and stripping, both still quite legal, but the serious money was made in the rooms upstairs.
Lance Malco was livid and realized the gravity of the assault on his businesses. If Jesse Rudy could close Carousel, any club might be next. Lance got his girls in line with strict instructions to stay away from anyone they hadn’t dealt with before. He huddled with Joshua Burch and plotted an aggressive line of defense.
* * *
Chancery court was known as the court of equity and had jurisdiction over such non-criminal matters as domestic relations, probate, zoning, elections, and a dozen other issues that did not require jury trials. It was commonly known as “divorce court” because 80 percent of the docket involved bad marriages and child custody. A nuisance case was a rarity.
The chancellor was the Honorable Leon Baker, an aging jurist jaded by years of refereeing warring spouses and choosing who got the kids. Like many citizens on the Coast, he had grown up with a disdain for the nightclubs and had never set foot in one. When he tired of the lawyers and their maneuvers, he called a halt and set the case for a hearing.
It was a historic occasion, the first time one of the infamous joints from the Strip had been hauled into court in an effort to close it. A crowd gathered in the courtroom, and though most of the gangsters stayed away, they were well represented. Nevin Noll sat in the back row and would, of course, report everything to Lance Malco. As the owner of Carousel, Ginger Redfield had no choice but to sit at counsel table next to Joshua Burch who, as always, was thrilled with the audience.
Jesse Rudy spoke first and promised to lay out a clear pattern of criminal activity. He would call to the stand six men, all off-duty officers, who would testify that they agreed to pay for sex at Carousel. No money changed hands, there was no sex, but the statute was clear that once a price was agreed upon, the crime had occurred. Jesse waved around a stack of papers and described them as valid subpoenas he had issued for the working girls at Carousel. The subpoenas had not been served on the girls because Fats Bowman had ordered his deputies to ignore them.
“You want these ladies in court?” Judge Baker asked.
“Yes, Your Honor. I have the right to subpoena them.”
Judge Baker looked at a bailiff and said, “Go find the sheriff and tell him to get here immediately. Mr. Burch.”
Joshua rose, properly addressed the court, and launched into a windy explanation of how business was conducted at Carousel. The girls were merely waitresses serving drinks to the boys, harmless fun. Sure, some of the girls were professional dancers who enjoyed performing while wearing little, but that was not illegal.
No one believed him, not even the chancellor.
The first witness was Chuck Armstrong, a policeman from Moss Point. He told his story of going to the nightclub with a friend, Dennis Greenleaf, also a policeman, and buying drinks for a young lady named Marlene. He never got her last name. They drank and danced and she finally propositioned him by offering half an hour upstairs in a room. For fifty dollars cash, he would get all the sex he wanted. He agreed on the price and the arrangements. There was no question that they made a deal, then he said he wanted to wait an hour and get something to eat. She left to hustle another table and lost interest in him. When she disappeared, he and Dennis made their exit.