Sunday, October 10, 2004
Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

RETRIAL BEGINS MONDAY: 'Old cowboy' has nothing to say

Prosecutors want Ted Binion's longtime friend to tell what he knows about slaying, suspects

David Mattsen was 15 and Ted Binion was 17 when they met in Montana. In 1989, the gaming heir asked Mattsen to manage his 136-acre ranch outside Pahrump. Prosecutors subpoenaed Mattsen to testify at the retrial of Sandy Murphy and Rick Tabish. Photo by Isaac Brekken Rick Tabish Ted Binion's friend Sandy Murphy Co-defendant in Binion death Click image for enlargement. Graphic by Mike Johnson.

David Mattsen is a self-described "old cowboy" whose days are spent managing his attorney's Nye County ranch.

But prosecutors suspect that beneath his weathered cowboy hat lies the key to the Ted Binion murder case.

Mattsen's attorney, James "Bucky" Buchanan, said Mattsen -- one of three men charged in the 1998 theft of Binion's silver fortune -- could provide prosecutors with valuable information in their prosecution of Rick Tabish and Sandy Murphy.

In fact, the attorney confirmed that prosecutors met with Mattsen Oct. 1, and they asked whether he would testify against Tabish and Murphy during the murder trial that begins Monday.

"He could be very helpful to the state, and they want him to testify," Buchanan said.

But prosecutors and Buchanan said Friday that negotiations to secure Mattsen's testimony are at a standstill.

Buchanan wants immunity for Mattsen in both state and federal court before Mattsen will say what he knows about Binion's fate.

Prosecutors, who in 2000 said there was significant evidence Mattsen was present when Binion died, want to hear what he has to say before they consider pursuing any potential immunity offers.

"They are putting the cart before the horse," prosecutor Robert Daskas said. "We are saying, 'Give us the information, and perhaps we can give you immunity.' They are saying, 'Give us the immunity, then we'll give you the information.' "

Mattsen, meanwhile, said in an interview last week at the ranch that he doesn't know what happened to Binion.

"I went down there and talked to them," Mattsen said of prosecutors. "They said, 'What do you know?' I said, 'I don't know nothing, and if you ask me anything in court, I'm going to plead the Fifth Amendment.' "

Mattsen, 59, manages Buchanan's 1,000-acre Last Trail Ranch in Amargosa Valley. He is working off the thousands of dollars in legal fees he incurred because of the Binion case.

"I'm just an old cowboy," Mattsen said. "I've been trying to outrun progress all my life, but I can't run fast enough.

"I'd rather have flies than drive-bys," he said of his rural existence. "It's just that simple."

He first met Binion in Montana when Mattsen was 15 and Binion was 17. Decades later, the two began associating again in Las Vegas and Montana. In 1989, the gaming heir asked Mattsen to manage his ranch outside Pahrump.

"It was 136 acres, and we had African antelope, Norwegian White Mountain deer ... 86 horses," Mattsen said. "The ranch was like a zoo."

Mattsen said he and Binion, whose family owned a legendary casino in downtown Las Vegas, became close friends during the nine years he managed the ranch. He said anyone who got to know Binion knew he was very talented at one thing -- gaming.

"He was smart," Mattsen said. "When the moneymen came to town, Ted is the one who dealt (the cards.) That's who they wanted to deal. He had a computer for a mind."

Mattsen has plenty of colorful stories to tell about Binion, but perhaps his favorite one involved the time Binion demonstrated his card-dealing skills while the two relaxed at the Pahrump ranch.

"One day, Ted was playing with a deck of cards, and he said, 'What kind of hand do you want?' " Mattsen recalled. "I said, 'Deal me a royal flush,' and he gave me a royal flush. I'd watched him, and I couldn't see what he was doing.

"I said, 'Did you ever do that in a casino?' " Mattsen recalled. "He said, 'Hell no. A $2 million license to cheat at a hand of cards? It ain't worth it.' "

Added Mattsen, "I never played cards with Ted again, either."

One of Binion's attorneys has estimated he was worth about $50 million when he died. Mattsen said Binion was a generous man who, despite his wealth, always kept it simple.

"He drove an old Dodge pickup," Mattsen said. "He wore Levis and tennis shoes. ... But he always had a roll in his pocket for $30,000 to $40,000."

Binion, however, had a dark side as well. Mattsen said Binion confided in him how he got hooked on heroin when he was a young man.

Mattsen said Binion, who once estimated he spent a total of $1 million on heroin, changed when he was on the drug.

"When Ted drank, he was the nicest guy in the world," Mattsen said. "It was just when he took that heroin. He'd get dark. He never shot it. He just smoked the (expletive), but that is just as bad.

"He quit (heroin) for a year. Then, he drank a quart of Cuervo Gold during the day and a quart of Absolut vodka at night."

When Binion resumed using heroin, Mattsen asked him, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm getting off the booze," he said Binion replied. "And he said, 'I've had a love-hate relationship with this (expletive) for 25 years. I can handle it.' "

In September 1998, Binion was found dead in his Las Vegas home, but Mattsen said the flame in Binion really went out in 1997.

That year, the Nevada Gaming Commission suspended Binion's gaming license because of his drug use and ties to organized crime figures.

"That was the end of Ted," Mattsen said.

The ranch manager was acquainted with Murphy, who lived with Binion, and Tabish, who was a friend and business associate of Binion.

Asked what he thinks of Murphy, Mattsen said: "Not much. We just didn't get along."

Mattsen said he did not know Tabish very well, but he found him likeable.

Two days after Binion's death, Nye County deputies arrested Tabish, Mattsen and another man at an underground vault where Binion had buried $7 million worth of silver. Authorities said the three were stealing the silver fortune and charged them with attempted theft.

Mattsen contends he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"I got a call from someone who said they were digging ... so I went up there to see what was going on," Mattsen said. "I pulled in, and the cops pulled in right behind me."

Clark County prosecutor Christopher Lalli said authorities believe Mattsen lied about what he was doing at the vault.

A 1999 search of Mattsen's home led to federal charges of being an ex-felon in possession of a firearm.

According to federal prosecutors, Mattsen has decades-old convictions for robbery, attempted robbery and sexual intercourse with a minor. He also has a 1982 conviction for criminal damage to property.

"I don't want to go there," Mattsen said of his prior record. "I ain't never hurt anybody intentionally in my life."

Mattsen went to trial in federal court in 2000 on the charge of being an ex-felon in possession of a firearm. With Buchanan as his defense attorney, he was acquitted. Mattsen claimed in court that the guns he was charged with possessing actually were Binion's.

"I believe in God and Buchanan," Mattsen said. "If it wasn't for Buchanan, they would have wheeled me out (of prison) in a box when I was 110."

Mattsen said he believes the federal gun charges were an attempt to get him to testify against Tabish and Murphy. Prior to the pair's first murder trial in 2000, prosecutors tried to reach a deal with Mattsen to testify against them, but negotiations fell through.

During the 2000 trial, jurors found Murphy and Tabish guilty of murder and other charges.

Following that trial, Mattsen pleaded no contest to conspiracy to commit grand larceny in the attempted silver theft and was required to complete 200 hours of community service.

But to this day, Mattsen contends he was not stealing from Binion.

"Why?" Mattsen said. "I had a combination to the vault. I had a combination to every safe he owned. I had the keys to everything. Why would I have to steal from him? If I needed money, he'd give it to me."

After Mattsen completed his community service, Mattsen figured he was done with the Binion case.

But last year, the Nevada Supreme Court granted Tabish and Murphy a new trial.

Mattsen said he has since received a subpoena from prosecutors.

"I just want to be left alone," Mattsen said. "I didn't want to be in no limelight. I don't want to be in no spotlight. I just want to be left alone. I want me and my wife to be able to live all the years we've got left without all this hassle. ...

"I don't know anything, and I'm not going to say nothing."