AN ALASKAN MURDER WRAPPED IN AN ENIGMA SHROUDED IN MYSTERY

By Simone LeClere

© Simone LeClere Publishing – February 2009

Muriel Adele Pfeil was born in 1935 in Anchorage, Alaska to German immigrants Emil and Muriel Pfeil. Emil Pfeil was a long time Alaska Railroad employee and Muriel was a teacher with the Anchorage School District. Following his retirement from the railroad, Emil became a real estate investor and served on the Public Utility Board, the City Counsel and the Anchorage Chamber of Commerce. Their daughter Muriel was born one of three children, of which two both died at the hands of another Alaska pioneer, Neil S. Mackay.

MURIEL’S MURDER

Muriel Pfeil met and married attorney Neil Mackay and gave birth to their only son, Scotty. But by 1974, Pfeil and Mackay were divorced and custody of Scotty was eventually awarded to Muriel. On September 30, 1976, Muriel died in downtown Anchorage, when a car bomb exploded while she was in her vehicle. No arrests were made in Muriel’s death, however, the Pfeil family has always maintained that Mackay had something to do with her death.

Robert Pfeil (Muriel’s brother and an Alaska Airlines pilot) and his wife, Marianne, sought custody of Scotty as did Scotty’s father, Neil Mackay. During the custody litigation of Scotty, Neil Mackay, in violation of a court order, took Scotty out of Alaska and flew to Likiep Island in the U.S. Trust Territories of the Pacific Islands. The custody litigation was terminated by a consent order and decree entered on June 30, 1978, awarding custody of Scotty to MacKay.

Unfortunately, the MacKay/Pfeil controversy continued, this time over the administration of Muriel Pfeil’s estate. Scotty was the sole beneficiary of Muriel’s estate, and a minor child. Robert Pfeil was the child’s uncle and the estate’s representative. Mackay was now the custodial parent to Scotty. Pfeil sued Mackay for the costs and attorney fees associated with returning Scotty from Likiep Island, and the Court agreed with Pfeil, awarding Muriel’s estate (and Robert Pfeil as its representative), $141,982.62. Judgment was entered against Mackay on December 8, 1981 and on June 29, 1983, a default judgment was entered. Rather than appeal this decision, Mackay filed a diversity action in federal court seeking, inter alia, injunctive and declaratory relief. Robert Pfeil moved for summary judgment, which was granted by order filed April 14, 1985. Mackay then appealed the summary judgment. While Mackay’s appeal resulted in the Ninth Circuit vacating the lower court’s order granting summary judgment on Mackay’s first and sixth claims and remanding the case with directions to enter an order dismissing those claims for lack of subject matter jurisdiction, the Ninth Circuit affirmed the lower court’s order awarding the $141,982.62 to Pfeil’s estate on September 4, 1987.



ROBERT’S MURDER

Thirty eight days later, on October 12, 1985, Robert Pfeil was returning home from work, when another car (driven by Robert Betts with John Bright in the passenger seat) drove up alongside his vehicle, and shot him. Pfeil died a few days after being shot.

THE PLAYERS IN ROBERT’S MURDER
Tyoga G. Clossen, who was 18 years old at the time, stole a .45 caliber pistol from the Anchorage home where his girlfriend was house-sitting. Robert Betts (age 20), a friend and occasional roommate of Tyoga Clossen, acquired the gun from Tyoga, and subsequently loaned the gun to John Bright (age 22) who used it on October 12, 1985, during the Pfeil murder. John Bright was an occasional roommate to Larry Gentry (age 34), the owner of the Lincoln Continental used in the murder. Following the murder, Betts returned the gun to Tyoga, who in turn traded it to Jack Peters for cocaine. Like most young, dope fiends, it didn’t take long for those involved to start talking about the murder. Within a couple of weeks, Anchorage police learned that Tyoga had been speaking of his involvement in the Pfeil murder. The police called Tyoga in for questioning where he admitted stealing the gun and explained how it became involved in the Pfeil shooting. Tyoga then agreed to wear a wire and meet with Robert Betts. On October 24, 1985, Tyoga met with Robert Betts and tape recorded their conversations. Eventually, Robert Betts also agreed to cooperate with the investigation, and on November 11, 1985, Robert Betts and John Bright were both arrested and charged with Murder, and Clossen was charged with Second Degree Theft.
The arrest of Betts and Bright led to the arrest of Gilbert “Junior” Pauole in December of 1985. Junior (my first cousin through marriage on my mother’s side who moved to Alaska in 1979 to manage the first in a series of strip clubs) immediately agreed to become a prosecution witness and to wear a wire during conversations with his accomplices and in particular, with Neil Mackay. During the first trial (held in Fairbanks, Alaska during April of 1986), Junior who was a three-time convicted felon testified that for $10,000 which was paid to him by Neil Mackay, he agreed to arrange for the murder of Robert Pfeil. Junior knew Mackay as he managed a strip club named the Wild Cherry which was housed in one of Mackay’s commercial buildings on Fourth Avenue in downtown Anchorage, but the club itself was owned by Seattle mobster Frank Colacurcio, the “topless dance king.”

FIRST TRIAL - MISTRIAL

During jury deliberations in the trial in April of 1986, someone sent a thick file of derogatory material on Neil Mackay relating to his former wife’s unsolved murder. None of the jurors could remember hearing the file discussed or admitted as evidence. The papers were intended for the judge as background information on the case, and not intended for the jurors. As such, that trial ended in a mistrial.

By this point in time, the State had invested $500,000 in attorney fees to two special prosecutors, the police had put 18 months into the investigation, the State had convicted and sent to prison four other men involved in the killing (Bright was convicted of 1st degree murder and sentenced to 99 years in prison; Betts was sentenced to 50 years in prison for driving the getaway car; Gentry was sentenced to 40 years in prison for helping to plan the murder and Clossen received 18 months for stealing the weapon used in the murder), and the prosecution had made a deal to get testimony from Junior who admitted arranging the murder, and had agreed on a sentence of 20 years.

SECOND TRIAL - ACQUITTAL

The decision as made to re-try Neil Mackay and in February of 1988, a Fairbanks jury acquitted Neil Mackay of Robert Pfeil’s murder. News reports state that the jury did not believe Junior’s testimony. Other accounts are that Junior engineered the killing to use it to blackmail Neil Mackay and that the tape recordings between Junior and Mackay were ambiguous.

THE MOB CONNECTION

The Wild Cherry, the downtown Anchorage strip club that Junior managed was owned by Frank Colacurcios who also owned strip clubs in Alaska, Arizona, Texas, Washington, Oregon and New Mexico. Junior and Frank first met while in prison at McNeil Island in Washington state, and Junior had joined Colacurcio’s organization following his release from prison. Following Robert Pfeil’s murder and as part of Junior’s deal with law enforcement, Junior agreed to testify about “The Skim” being perpetrated by the mob in the strip clubs owned by Colacurcios. It was Junior’s testimony which landed Frank and his son, Frank, Jr. in federal prison for two and a half years on plea bargain to charges of tax fraud. In 1981, Junior testified as a hostile government witness “I look at Frank Colacurcio as my dad, my friend and a very special person.”

This was especially painful for Frank Colacurcio because Junior was one of his most trusted associates and someone who he treated like a son. Junior had named Colacurcio as the godfather to his son. Colacurcio had given Junior the gift of a gold necklace with a charm shaped like a pepper, something he had done only with his very trusted associates.

However, when Colacurcio was paroled in 1985 (the same year as the Pfeil murder), Junior again testified against Colacurcio in exchange for leniency on the Pfeil murder charges. Junior turned federal witness and began talking about Colacurcio’s organization resulting in the convictions of three of Colacurcio’s brothers in an Arizona racketeering case, the closure of the nightclubs in Alaska and the charges against Colacurcio and his son in yet another tax case in 1991. The original trial file at the Anchorage court house, is full of letters from Attorney Generals from various western states, asking for leniency on Junior for his assistance in taking down the Colacurcio family.



INTERESTING SIDE NOTES – WHERE ARE THEY NOW???

On January 12, 2006, Anchorage criminal defense lawyer Bill Bryson, Neil Mackay’s attorney throughout his two murder trials, shot himself in the head, reportedly due to financial and personal troubles, including owing the IRS. Bryson is described as an elegant yet flamboyant figure in the local Anchorage community. At the time of his suicide, I was working a case against Bryson involving a personal injury case, in which his client hit my client while driving under the influence.

On September 24, 1994, Neil Mackay was found dead in his condominium at the Ilikai in Waikikiki. In January of 1991 on a trip to Honolulu for the New Year, I first learned of the story of Neil Mackay as I stayed in Discovery Bay, right next to the Ilikai. This was before I knew of my “familiar” connection to the case.

John Bright has become a movie star of sorts while serving his 99 year prison sentence. You can meet John in “Lockup Raw: Spring Creek, Alaska” shown on MSNBC. John has evolved into an even more violent criminal, who recently bit off the finger of another prisoner and routinely attempts to gouge out the eyes of other inmates.

Tyoga Closson resides in Anchorage, Alaska and spent most of the 90s in and out of jail for misdemeanor crimes and moving violations.

Larry Gentry resides in Cordova, Alaska.

Scotty Mackay was living in Anchorage in the late 90s, but it is not clear as to where he resides now.

Frank Colacurcio, Sr. is now 91 years old and still lives in the Seattle area. He still runs strip clubs and his clubs, company headquarters and personal residence are still getting raided by police and federal agents, most recently due to allegations that they are fronts for prostitution and extortion. Frank is also at the center of the 2003 “Strippergate” campaign-finance scandal involving illegal campaign donations to City Council members in King County.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Okay, so tomorrow is the big day -- and without revealing how many years I've been celebrating the day I first greeted this world -- I'll just say that I am inching towards that "middle age" category. I've come to the realization that we really don't know as much as we think we do about life, people, and the challenges and sweet victories we face every day. Rather, life becomes more of a mystery and things aren't so black and white, or even gray, but are instead every shade of color imaginable. Life isn't fair and there is no gigantic scoreboard keeping a tally of our fuck-ups or our accomplishments, with a final score or grade on that day that we decide to leave this world. There is no master plan. There is no right or wrong path. Life is full of choices and we make those choices based on our own desires, wants, hopes and dreams. Sometimes they are choices that bring joy and happiness to others as well as ourselves, and other times the choices we make bring disappointment, regret, embarassment, and sadness. I hope that with age, comes wisdom...but I don't really believe that either. I think that we do learn from the choices we make, but those choices aren't necessarily good or bad. It is all about the consequences of those choices we make that get everyone worked up and in a tizzy. I've learned to enjoy the simple pleasures in my life -- the feeling I get when I pet my dog, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning, a beautiful, clear, warm, sunny day, the sand beneath my feet and the ocean on my skin, catching that perfect photo opportunity, the sound of my mother's voice, the touch of my husband's hand on my back -- these are the things I would miss if I were to never be able to experience them again. My friends have become more and more important to me, and its the old friends from childhood I seem to be reconnecting with. They also bring me joy and comfort. What will this next year of my life bring? Choices and Consequence -- I assume. After all, that's really all life is made of and hopefully, along the way, we get to taste the sweetness and beauty of those things around us that make us smile.

Beware of the Sundog

The old sundog peers at me over a thick wall of clouds.
He guards the gates to Heaven
With his army of ice crystal flecks
Filtering down to earth.

I inhale…
As the hairs inside my nose prickle in the frozen wind
The winter air presses hard against my lungs.
And I gasp…

Today, no one passes through these gates
Guarded by the old sundog
Not on his watch…

He gazes towards the horizon
And knows his watch is ending soon.
The alpenglow begins to paint the parting skies
With Tahitian punch against the crystal blue eternity above.

And in the foreground
Stacks of white precipices covered in the whitest snow
Loom down on the earth below.

As the wise old moon
Who never looks older than he did the day before
Glows brighter than he once did
Gazing towards the gates of Heaven.

Now, it is his watch
He will certainly be more forgiving of the darkness
As the gates swing wide open
To welcome me into Heaven.

McKinley

I drew my gaze from the quiet summer lake
And turned in awe toward her majestic presence.
As she stood silent, yet omnipotent
Of all that occurs in her shadows below.

She is a force of nature
That can bend the wills of most men
And break those of the rest.
Yet, countless continue to ascend her towers.

I stare off in the distance
And her form interrupts the horizon
With jagged, snow-covered peaks.
Did Heaven just drop her to earth one day?

Her presence has claimed the lives of many
And will claim many more before she is done.
Yet, they return to her each year,
Just as a child returns home to his mother.

By somehow conquering her massiveness,
They have proven their worth as athletes, as men.
But have they proven to this awesome force
That their lives are truly worthwhile?

I watch the clouds gather around her peaks,
Just as sheep gather in a herd.
And I ponder her next victim.
Will she spare another?

Silent Winter Solitude

As the frozen albino ashes flitter to the ground at the end of God’s fury,
All is silent in the streets.
The heavily laden gray ceiling seems to exude
A most forceful pressure upon the earth.

I inhale the winter air into my lungs
While the fine hairs in my nose prickle to attention.
And my eyes begin to tear and burn ever so slightly.
The icy breeze paints my cheeks with the faintest blushed rose.

In utter solitude on the moon’s vast nothingness
I stand alone on a winter street.
No life among the slate gray concrete that disappears into infinity.
Just as the empty satellite revolves around us in endless loneliness.

I turn around to gaze north up the city block.
My eyes then shift towards the full moon in the distance whileCold emptiness stretches

Arctic Christmas

Ice crystals dance in the flow of the Christmas moon.
The snow crunches beneath each stem
And the howl of the arctic wolf echoes through the night
A pebble ripples in a glacier pond.

Then silence.

The north wind calls
And he turns his gaze towards home.As the lighthouse guides the ancient mariner
Home from his voyage.
He too is guided by the Christmas moon
Home to the cabin nestled in the arms of the giant Spruce.
The faded glimmer from frosted panes of time
Embrace him in warmth

And he knows he is home in time for Christmas.

1968 Disturbed

The infant doesn’t know
But the pain his father carries
With him is full of death
The memories don’t fade.

At two, the little boy recognizes
His father has changed.
Carrying a burden of darkness
Full of dread.
Distracted by the mounds of dead.

Eyes dart towards his son of five.
Uncontrollable, volatile, unpredictable.
Anger and violence welling inside
A dirty little secret is held close.

To have started the fires and silenced the moans.

Missing limbs and broken bones
Surviving through the death groans.
He sees a boy of ten
Anxious for his father to leave and go to work.

For this disturbed soul to be gone.

The trench of distance deepens
As the boy waves good bye to this stranger of a man
A son for a father is traded away as he
Cries from within for his father’s sins.

All grown up and a soldier too
His son leaves home to make his father proud
To a world of lost daughters and sons
Whose fathers crept through rice paddies with guns.

Don’t forget your morphine shot in case you get caught.

Jungles of land mines, flanked to your right.
Another soldier is lost in this fight.