10th Precinct Conspiracy Trial

10th Precinct Conspiracy Trial

Why Happy Battle Is Insecure

by Pamela Johnson

One day in August 1969, a good-looking 30-year-old black man named Milton Battle drove his stake-bed truck up to a lawn mower and engine repair shop in Farmington and made the acquaintance of the proprietor - a shuffling, sleepy-eyed little man with heavily greased black and grey hair named Guido laconelli. Battle said he'd been looking everywhere between Lansing and Detroit for someone who could fix the concrete saw that he needed for the construction work he was doing on a country road job.

   Guido said he could fix it. Battle said he didn't have enough money on him at the moment to pay for the repair job. Guido said he would trust him for it. Two weeks later the black man returned to pay his bill.

   And so was born a "very nice friendship" between Battle and laconelli, according to Guido's wife Julie, who testified last week in behalf of her husband at the 10th Precinct conspiracy trial in Recorder's Court -  where nine Detroit policemen and seven civilians, including laconelli, stand accused of conspiring to sell narcotics and obstruct justice.

   The prosecution had finally rested after three months of testimony, and the defense had opened with laconelli. He was scheduled to be followed in turn by each of the 15 other defendants who choose to offer a case in their own defense.

   According to Julie laconelli, a large, pleasant-faced mother of four, she really ran things at the lawn mower shop. The complexities of business were simply beyond her husband - who, she says, can read and write only his name, her name, and the words "hi," "hello," and "I love you."

   The prosecution contends Guido, nevertheless, soon became Milton Battle's cocaine supplier. Battle decided that selling illicit drugs might be considerably more lucrative than cutting lines (to be filled with tar) in the county's newly-poured cement roads. The laconellis maintain that Battle was nothing more than a regular customer at the lawn mower shop and a good friend who frequently visited their Farmington home and attended family parties.

   Yes, said Julie, Guido often took off for an afternoon or an evening with Battle and once made an overnight plane trip with him to Philadelphia. But her husband, she admitted, had a "weakness" for the attractive women in Battle's social circle, and the trip to Philly was for the purpose of buying Milton some shoes. "Greedo," as earlier witnesses often called him, has been driving a series of brand new Cadillacs for the past several years, even though Julie says their financial situation has often been unpleasant.

   The prosecution suggests that Battle used the laconellis' business to launder some of his ill-gotten gain. Julie and Guido say the $20,000 Battle loaned them (listed in the company records under someone else's name because Battle "didn't want the IRS to know") was needed because their creditors were angry and impatient.

   Only the jury, of course, will officially decide where the truth resides. But if spectator reaction is any measure, then Guido's performance upon taking the stand in his own defense certainly did nothing to hurt his chances for acquittal. Indeed most of those present felt the little man's earnestly projected image of a naive, impoverished and contrite philanderer might well have turned the tide for him.

   Dressed as he invariably has been for the past several weeks in baggy plaid trousers, a rumpled mustard sport coat and a yellow tie that reached only half-way to his waist, Guido said he's always throught that narcotics only came in "water form." He ducked his head in comic embarrassment when describing a scene in which he came upon Battle in bed with a couple of girls "with only bras and panties on."

   When asked about Wiley Reed, his primary accuser during prosecution testimony, Guido said quickly, "I never seen the man in my life."

   "Are you sure about that?" asked his court-appointed attorney Michael Sapala.

   Said Guido: "I hope to die right where I'm sitting if l'm lying."

continued on page 23

Why "Happy" Battle Is Insecure

IMAGE CAPTIONS (left to right):

DEFENDANT:

Guido Iaconelli

DEFENDANT:

Richard Herold

DEFENDANT

Bobby Neely

Witness for the Defense:

Happy Battle

continued from page 3

   Not long ago Milton "Happy" Battle, now a convicted dope dealer, was scheduled to be a key witness for the prosecution in the 10th Precinct trial. And not long before that, he had stood as one of the defendants in the case, accused of being a prime mover in a loosely-organized heroin and cocaine ring on Detroit's west side. The operation allegedly involved an assortment of dealers and numerous cops, either on the take or themselves dealing.

   But back in January of this year, Battle was allowed to plead guilty on the charges (with sentencing to be delayed until after the trial) in exchange for his testimony for the prosecution. Shortly thereafter Battle was taken from his residence at the Wayne County Jail and placed in protective custody at a secret location under heavy guard. According to DPD Deputy Chief George Bennett, whose investigation helped to produce the current trial, Battle was "a very insecure man" who felt his life wouldn't be worth much if he remained in the jail.

   Subsequently, Battle made a number of tape-recorded statements to the prosecutors and was made available for questioning by defense attorneys. But contrary to the prosecutors' hopes, Battle said very little that might be helpful to their case, particularly with reference to the nine cops on trial. For example, he reportedly had nothing at all incriminating to say about Sgt. Rudy Davis, who, according to the testimony of Battle's henchman Wiley Reed, had received thousands in pyaoffs from Battle.

   Bennett and the prosecution team took Battle back over his statements several times, reportedly wired him for a polygraph test, and checked his information against the testimony of many other witnesses. They finally concluded that he was offering something less than a truthful and accurate account of his activities in the drug business.

   Nonetheless, Battle remained on the list of endorsed prosecution witnesses until the latter stages of the People's case, when the prosecution formally moved to have him dropped. Rudy Davis' attorney, Robert Harrison, argued strongly against the motion in an effort to force the prosecution to call Battle. Judge Justin Ravitz, however, finally ruled that the prosecution had every right to choose not to include Battle as a witness because he and his statements had been made available to the defense, and because he could be called by any of the defendants and their counsel.

   Now, as ironic as it might seem, that is apparently what's about to happen, since Rudy Davis has reportedly decided he wants attorney Harrison to put Battle on the stand when it comes time for Davis to present his defense. Describing Battle as a bomb who might go off in any direction if brought in to testify, other defense attorneys are reportedly unhappy over this decision and have warned Harrison that it's a dangerous move. But at this point in the proceedings it's every man for himself and Rudy Davis has apparently decided he needs the exculpation he expects from Happy Battle.

   When Battle pled guilty and said he would turn state's evidence, it was generally assumed that he had done so with the hope that his cooperation would win him a somewhat lighter sentence. Having been convicted recently on another drug charge carrying a 20-year term, he couldn't hope to avoid prison entirely, but making a deal might give him a chance at freedom before his life was entirely behind him.

   So why, then, did Battle cooperate in a fashion less than satisfactory to the prosecution? If, as the prosecution contends, Battle has been lying about the case, why?

   The most prevalent speculation among close observers begins with George Bennett's reference to Battle as "very insecure." Happy has, according to many sources, good reason to feel concern for his continued well-being. When he was on the street supplying his dope houses, traveling out of state to buy large quantities of heroin, and bidding to become one of the city's dope kings, Battle (it is said) showed precious little regard for the value of a human life. It took very little, allegedly, for Battle to suggest, order or contract for the extermination of someone who had displeased him in one way or another. In the process, Battle made certain people very unhappy, and it seems entirely possible that one of them might express his feelings, if given half a chance, in the violent world of prison society.

   If, so this argument goes, in addition to this unpleasant prospect, Battle carries with him to the penitentiary the reputation of having helped to put Rudy Davis and several other cops behind bars, his chance to secure a policy from any life insurance company in the country would be next to nil. With his future welfare entirely in the hands of the authorities, Battle must figure that his best chance for survival lies in doing something well-calculated to please the police.

   To buttress this line of speculation, observers refer to the unfortunate case of James Lee Newton, 33, a.k.a. "Watusi Slim." Until last month, Watusi Slim was waiting to be brought to Recorder's Court from a maximum security prison in Ohio (where he was serving four to 25 years for robbery and burglary) to testify in a murder case against the notorious Detroit drug operator and alleged hitman, Chester Wheeler Campbell. Campbell was one of those originally indicted in the 10th Precinct case, but was not taken into custody until it was too late to include him in the current trial. He and a co-defendant were charged with the murder of a man named Roy Parsons, and Watusi Slim was on tap as the key witness.

   At a pre-trial hearing in the case, Watusi said he had decided to testify against the defendants because "I figured that they would kill me any way."

   On August 21, less than a month before the murder trial date, Watusi was found behind some gymnasium bleachers at the Ohio Correctional Facility at Lucasville with his throat slashed and small crosses etched into his eyelids. With the key witness thus indisposed, the murder charge against Campbell was promptly dropped.

   A day or two later, during a break in the 10th Precinct proceedings, Wilfrid Rice, attorney for defendant Richard Kendricks and also one of Chester Campbell's lawyers, walked into Judge Ravitz's courtroom and announced to those present that Watusi had been eliminated and the murder case dismissed.

   "Yes. sir," said Mr. Rice, "Chester doesn't have to be inside to do business." ___________________________________________________

Pamela Johnson covers the 10th Precinct conspiracy trial regularly for the SUN.