Delaying the Game

"Justice delayed is justice denied," runs an old legal maxim. Former Nevada Judge Clifford Jones, 59, might be inclined to disagree. For him, it seems that the slower the law moves, the better. Having long since stepped down from the bench to serve a couple of terms as Nevada's Lieutenant Governor, "Big Juice," as he is known, now operates as a big-time gambler. This week, beating all the odds, he will celebrate the sixth anniversary of his indictment for perjury in the Bobby Baker payoff case. Baker, who was indicted along with Jones on Jan. 5, 1966, has been tried, convicted, jailed and recently denied a parole. Big Juice has so far avoided going to trial at all. No court date is even in sight.

According to the indictment, Big Juice Jones sent a Washington lobbyist named Wayne L. Bromley ten $1,000 checks during 1963 and 1964 to pay Bromley for representing a Las Vegas savings and loan association. Bromley performed that service by passing the money under the table to Baker, the Senate's Democratic majority secretary. Bromley later turned informer for the Government, and agents sent him to meet Jones with a small radio transmitter strapped to his body. After listening to tapes of their conversation, a Washington grand jury concluded that "Jones was trying to teach Bromley his perjured story." When Jones denied knowledge of the Baker payoff, he was indicted for perjury.

Luckily for Jones, as he now acknowledges, "I had good friends in Washington who are lawyers." The firm of Welch & Morgan began a systematic series of motions. Requests were made for a transcript of the grand jury testimony, for a quashing of the indictment, for the suppression of evidence obtained by electronic eavesdropping, and for a bill of particulars from the Justice Department. As each motion was denied, Jones' lawyers appealed to higher courts. The question of admitting the portable radio evidence took four years to reach the U.S. Supreme Court, which let stand a decision allowing its use.

The most frequent defense tactic has been a motion to move the hypothetical trial from Washington to Las Vegas. Seven such requests, each based on a different argument, have been considered and rejected by federal courts. Jones' chief attorney, Charles McNelis, filed an eighth request for change of venue June 28, but Federal Judge Joseph C. Waddy has not yet found time to rule on it. When Waddy decides, McNelis will be ready with more motions. Says he: "There are some other procedural matters that haven't been disposed of."

The lengthening roster of delays may already have cost Jones an estimated $150,000, and as he himself says, "If I'd been a poor man, or even an average guy, I wouldn't have been able to afford it."

Don't Wait. One reason he can afford it is that despite the indictment, Jones' worldwide gambling ventures are apparently thriving. "I'm just now getting some deals going," he says. He returned to the U.S. two weeks ago from an inspection visit to his overseas casinos, including one in Yugoslavia. He also continues to protest his innocence: "All my misfortunes seem to come from trying to do somebody a favor."

Then why not go to trial and get his name cleared? "It's like a baseball game," Jones says. "You don't wait until the batter is running home before you put him out. You start at first base. If you miss him there, you try for second base, then third."

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