Hijinks aplenty in the ‘Hillbilly Heist’

By R. Marc Kantrowitz

Making a measly $8.15 an hour, David Ghantt thought he deserved far more. He was a hardworking, married military veteran, but he could not rise above poorly paying jobs.

Finding himself in Charlotte, North Carolina, he worked for Loomis Fargo, which transported money to banks and other businesses. He was literally surrounded by, and came into contact with, millions of dollars.

He was also in love with 27-year-old Kelly Campbell, an attractive, spirited and blunt former coworker who was married to Spanky. Although neither Ghantt nor Campbell ever acted on any impulses, Ghantt saw a future with her. In turn, she saw dollar signs with him. And soon a plan was hatched with Steve Chambers — a low-level criminal, bookmaker, tax cheat and gambler who was an old high school friend of Campbell — calling the shots.

Chambers, an imposing, bearded figure at 6 feet tall and some 250 pounds, was in the process of pleading guilty to 42 counts of obtaining property by false pretenses. When he wasn’t breaking the law, he was snitching on those who did to the FBI, which considered him an unreliable informant.

It was really quite simple. After the shop closed for the day, Ghantt would stick around, mosey into the vault, and cart out tightly packed stacks of money. He’d drive away to meet and hand off the loot to people he barely knew and then high tail it to Mexico, where he would wait for Campbell to join him, while leaving his wife high and dry.

Chambers would send some money to keep him afloat until the heat was off, upon which Ghantt would return and divvy up the money with those he had blindly entrusted millions of dollars.

Chambers learned the lying-low trick from the film “Goodfellas” and other crime movies and books that he loved. And like all good criminals, he thought why share a lot of money with your partner when, for a fraction of that amount, you could have him killed.

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It was 6:40 p.m. on Oct. 4, 1997. Ghantt sent home early a young man who was training with him. Once alone, he figured that if he were fracturing the employer-employee bond, he’d do it on a grand scale. For over an hour, he huffed, puffed and hauled away what turned out to be $17,044,033, weighing in at over a ton and a half, from the vault to a nearby company van. With $11 million in $20 bills that took up 64 cubic feet of space, the task was challenging and time consuming.

With the van loaded, he left, only to be stopped at a locked rear gate he couldn’t open.

After briefly panicking, he called Campbell, who told him to try the front gate. He was soon joined by two other pickup trucks carrying Campbell, Chambers and two others, both of whom he offered $100,000 for their help.

They drove to a quiet area where Ghantt grabbed $50,000 that he stuffed in a money belt, boots and pockets, and he hopped into Campbell’s pickup truck, which would take him to a nearby airport.

Before leaving, he told the others to dump the security tapes he had stolen and a gun left on the seat of the van. He also gave them a large ring of 125 keys.

The unsmooth road grew bumpier. The rear door of the van was locked, requiring the crooks to go through the 125 keys to get it open.

Upon finally entering and unloading the money, they ran out of space and had to leave over $3 million behind in the van, along with the security tapes and gun they forgot to take.

Meanwhile, Campbell drove Ghantt to the airport, only to find it closed for the evening.  Another airport was found, but when Chambers refused to drive there, Ghantt went by cab instead.

When all the Loomis employees — save one — reported to work the next morning and discovered the massive theft, it was readily apparent who stole the loot. A third security tape that Ghantt failed to take confirmed their suspicions.

Throwing caution and wisdom to the wind, Chambers and his wife, Michele, went on a spending bender, moving from their mobile home into a luxurious mansion compete with a $10,000 pool table and a newly installed $10,000 fence. They immediately started purchasing expensive cars, furniture and jewelry, often paying in $20 bills.

Meanwhile, Chambers’ wife made several trips to local banks to make cash deposits. At one, she asked the teller: “How much can I deposit before you have to report it to the feds? … Don’t worry, it’s not drug money.” When told the amount was $10,000, she reached into her bag and took out $9,500, again in $20 bills, to a now very suspicious teller, who quickly reported the transaction to the authorities.

Drowning in money, Chambers sought out friends and relatives, hiring and paying them tens of thousands of dollars, all in cash, to help him scatter the proceeds. Not satisfied with what Chambers was paying, some helped themselves. One grabbed $4,000 while another couple broke into a storage locker and stole $1.3 million, moved to Colorado, and figured Chambers wouldn’t miss the money — but even if he did, what could he do about it?

When Chambers discovered the theft, he had the money moved to new locations. He left bags of money with hundreds of thousands of dollars in his home and in his attorney’s office, paying him $10,000 for the service, and telling one and all that he had won the money gambling. He told the same story to the former owner of a discount furniture outlet that he had purchased and turned into a high-end store in another effort to hide and launder his money.

Meanwhile, Ghantt was living it up in the resorts and clubs of Cancun, spending money at a luxury hotel and on scuba diving, jet skiing, deep-sea fishing, horseback riding, parasailing, shopping, and eating and drinking in high-end restaurants. When he found himself low on money, he reached out to Campbell, who in turn contacted Chambers.

In turn, Chambers called Mike McKinney, a 200-pound former Marine who was discharged for using cocaine. McKinney jumped at Chambers’ offer of $250,000 to take out Ghantt.

Meanwhile, the FBI quickly tied Ghantt to Campbell, who, while not spending lavishly, did pay $30,000 for a Toyota minivan in 20s. She unwisely lied when questioned by the FBI, which, by using wiretaps, learned the identities of all involved. They also overheard the plot to murder Ghantt.

Not surprisingly, given the number of people involved, many of whom were spending money well beyond their means, anonymous tips flooded in, all aided by a large reward offered by Loomis.

At sunset on Sunday, March 1, five Interpol police arrested Ghantt, seemingly much to his relief, suspecting that his days were numbered. Over the next few days, 21 others were taken into custody, including Chambers’ interior decorator who received $40,000 in cash but failed to file required IRS paperwork.

In a preliminary hearing, when the attorney for the government outlined the role of Chambers’ wife, Michele, he noted her spending some of the stolen money on breast enhancement, to which her lawyer strenuously objected, pointing out that the implants were installed before the heist.

Perhaps the prosecutor was confused, as it was another co-conspirator’s wife and his two sisters who got breast jobs with their ill-gotten gains.

Later, Michele Chambers elaborated: “I do want to go on record to say I didn’t get breast implants with this money. It was something that I wanted to get. It increased my bust size, but it didn’t decrease my brain size.”

Epilogue

No stranger to the criminal justice system, Chambers knew he was had and fully cooperated, throwing everyone under the bus and hoping to lessen a certain lengthy prison sentence. The others mostly followed suit.

In the end, all pleaded guilty except Chambers’ attorney, who went to trial and was convicted and sentenced to eight years.

Since their assets were seized, the defendants were appointed counsel at the public’s expense. Chambers, who lost skads of weight in jail awaiting his day in court, received a sentence of 11 years and three months, with consideration given for the testimony he gave against his former lawyer.

Michele Chambers, who was so tearful that her attorney had to read her statement in which she apologized to essentially everyone, received seven years and eight months.  Kelly Campbell, who had now found religion, was sentenced five years and 10 months behind bars. Mike “the Hitman” McKinney received the same sentence as his boss Chambers.

And last, the man who started it all by walking off with the loot, Ghantt, was sentenced to a seven-and-a-half-year term.

All served their time and were freed.

In what many termed the “Hillbilly Heist,” nearly 90 percent of the money taken was recovered. While restitution was ordered for the remainder, much went unpaid.

In 2016, the crime comedy “Masterminds” was released starring an all-star cast of Zack Galifianakis as David Ghantt, Kristen Wiig as Kelly Campbell, Owen Wilson as Steve Chambers, Jason Sudeikis as Mike McKinney, and Leslie Jones as an FBI agent.

David Ghantt served as a technical advisor on the film.

The above column is based mainly on “Heist” by Jeff Diamant and other online sources.  R. Marc Kantrowitz is a retired judge who works as a mediator for REBA DR. He can be contacted at Rmarckantrowitz@comcast.net.