Laurel Canyon had long been a prestige address, an earthy, woodsy setting just minutes from the glitter and rush of Tinseltown. Though elaborately secure, the house was paint-cracked and rust-stained, an eyesore in a trendy neighborhood. There was a telephone at the entrance, an electronic deadbolt on the gate, two pit bulls sleeping on the steps. A stairway, leading from the garage to the front door, was caged in iron. There was a garage on the first floor the second and third floors had balconies facing the street. The house at 8763 Wonderland rented for $750 a month. A California cop called him “one of the coldest people I ever met.” Blond and bearded, Launius had served federal time for drug smuggling. Sharing the house with Miller and DeVerell was Ronald Launius, 37. He looked “like a guy in a dive bar in El Paso,” according to a neighbor. He had a slight build, a pockmarked face, a record of thirteen arrests. Six months ago she’d had a double mastectomy. A year ago, she’d been busted for dealing drugs out of the Wonderland house. She had two daughters, had once been married to a Beverly Hills attorney. She was thin, blond, foulmouthed, a heroin addict with seven arrests. There were seven of them meeting in the house on Wonderland Avenue, a jaundiced stucco box on a steep, winding road in the hills above Hollywood. Before them were two pairs of handcuffs, a stolen police badge, several automatic pistols and a dogeared sheet of paper, a floor plan.
They sat around a glass table in the breakfast nook. They’d sold a pound of baking soda for a quarter of a million dollars. It was Sunday evening and the drugs were gone, the money was gone, the situation was desperate. This story originally appeared in the June 15th, 1989 Issue of Rolling Stone.ĭeep in Laurel Canyon, the Wonderland Gang was planning its last heist.
0 kommentar(er)
