Sunday, October 11, 2015

Key 'Witness' against Wershe denies DEA 'Lies'

At Rick Wershe’s 2003 parole “hearing” a Drug Enforcement Administration agent presented “evidence” to show Wershe, known in the media as White Boy Rick, was a drug “kingpin” in Detroit. He submitted a DEA investigative report of a “debriefing” of Roy Grisson, one of Wershe’s close associates, alleging the then-17-year old Wershe was peddling 200 kilos of cocaine a month in Detroit. Grisson has at long last been located and he categorically denies everything in the DEA document attributed to him. “I never heard such a crock in my life,” Grisson says. 

The only “informant” to allegedly claim Richard J. Wershe, Jr. was a major drug figure in Detroit, denies he ever told a Drug Enforcement Administration agent and Detroit Police narcs any of the things cited in the man’s so-called debriefing. The “debriefing” of Roy Grisson is perhaps the most important “evidence” ever presented officially to “prove” Wershe was a major drug dealer in Detroit in the late 1980s.

“It’s total bullshit,” says Roy Grisson of Detroit. “I never told them any of that stuff.” 

He tells a radically different story of his “debriefing” from what is portrayed in the DEA investigative report known as a DEA-6, which was presented to the Michigan Parole Board as “evidence” of Wershe’s high level in Detroit’s drug underworld. 

A DEA-6 document purporting to report an "interview" with Roy Grisson. 

It’s hard to overstate the importance of this repudiation of the “evidence” against Rick Wershe. The Roy Grisson “debriefing” is the one—the only one—piece of informant evidence linking Wershe to law enforcement claims that he was a cocaine “kingpin” and “drug lord.” 

A previous Informant America post showed the other DEA informant “evidence” against Wershe at his 2003 parole hearing came from a snitch so unreliable the Detroit U.S. Attorney’s Office charged and convicted the man on multiple counts of perjury—lying—in drug investigations. The only other documentation presented to the parole board for the contention that Rick Wershe was—and is—a menace to society, was the purported statement of Roy Grisson about the level of Wershe’s drug dealing. Now Grisson is saying on the record and for the record that what the DEA claims he said about Wershe is a total fabrication. 

What’s more, the Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office has officially “certified” in response to a Freedom of Information Act Request from me, that the “documents do not exist” to support claims in a letter purportedly written by former Wayne County Prosecutor Mike Duggan, now the Mayor of the City of Detroit, that Wershe was the leader of a violent drug empire.

In sum, the “evidence” supporting prosecution claims that Wershe needs to continue serving a life prison sentence simply doesn’t exist. It’s a pile of unsupported accusations that cannot withstand the scrutiny of a full hearing—in any venue. 

Grisson has been hard to track down. It has been a months-long effort. Dave Majkowski, Rick’s lifelong friend, finally found him. Majkowski manages the Free Richard Wershe, Jr. Facebook page. I interviewed Roy Grisson late this past week by phone in two separate sessions.

Grisson freely admits he knew Rick Wershe, the Curry Brothers—convicted as a major drug gang on Detroit’s east side—and Cathy Volsan Curry, the niece of Detroit’s late mayor, Coleman Young. “We grew up together,” Grisson says of the Curry Brothers and Rick Wershe. “My sister had a baby with Leo (Curry),” Grisson notes. 

Grisson was running with Wershe when the so-called “No Crack Crew” of DEA agents and Detroit Police narcs had Wershe in their sights as a prosecution target in the spring and summer of 1987. 

In July of 1987, Grisson says, Rick Wershe asked him to give a ride to another associate named Mike Riley. The ride ended with Riley trying to kill Grisson. The story in the DEA report and the story Grisson tells today couldn’t be more different.

DEA Special Agent Crock’s report states Grisson “was the victim of an attempted contract murder assassination.” The report implies Rick Wershe ordered the murder. The DEA report quotes Grisson as remembering that just before he was shot, “Riley stated ‘Rick told me to show you this.’”

Grisson says this is completely false. Grisson believes Riley was “skied up” on drugs. “He wanted to rob me,” Grisson states firmly. “He kept saying, 'where are the keys?' Where are the keys? I guess he thought I had some keys of cocaine.” Grisson added, “He (Riley) never said ‘Rick told me to show you this.’” The DEA “debriefing” claims that’s what happened. 

The implication is that Rick Wershe ordered Riley to murder Grisson as a contract hit.

“Grisson feels he was the target of this contract killing because WERSHE Jr. fears he will testify against him in an upcoming narcotics case,” Agent Crock wrote in the “debriefing” of Roy Grisson. Roy Grisson says this is ridiculous. 

(Memo to Special Agent Crock: Grisson didn’t die so it wasn’t a killing, it was an attempted murder, but apparently no one on the Michigan Parole Board nor anyone in the DEA reads your investigative reports closely. Thus, your sloppy reporting was able to slide—until now.)

A Mac 10
Grisson says what really happened is when they arrived at an address on Baldwin Street in Detroit Riley pulled out a Mac 10 machine pistol and demanded to know where the “keys” were. Grisson says Riley (now deceased) shot him in the arm. Grisson then grabbed Riley in a bear hug to pin his arms against his body to prevent him from freely firing at close range. This put the Mac 10 behind Grisson. He says Riley then shot him twice in the back. 

As the two men fell out of the car and to the ground, Grisson claims Riley shot him in the hip. Grisson says as a result of nerve damage from that wound he wears a leg brace to this day. 

Grisson recalls Riley got up and fired a shot at his head. It grazed his forehead but Grisson blacked out. When he came to, a woman was using towels to try to stop the bleeding. He passed out again. When he regained consciousness a crowd of young kids had gathered around him. “He dead,” Grisson remembers hearing them say. “I woke up and said, ‘I ain’t dead.’ They all jumped back,” he recalls with a laugh. 

An EMS rig took him to the hospital. He had them call his niece who notified his entire family he had been shot. They knew he was in the hospital. He had surgery for his gunshot wounds. 

The next thing Grisson knew, some narcs were hovering around him asking questions. Crock’s DEA-6 states: “The following paragraphs give a detailed description of GRISSON’S motivation and statement.” (The last names of people on police reports are frequently capitalized for easy location on pages of reports.) 

The hospital questioning was followed, Grisson says, by the cops having him transferred to a gurney. A sheet was placed over him as if he were dead. He says he was wheeled to an unmarked police van and transported from the hospital, without his permission or agreement, to a motel in suburban Plymouth, Michigan. “They kidnapped me out of the hospital,” Grisson says. 

What came next was an effort by anywhere from three to six narcs at various times to “sweat” Grisson in to making statements and making phone calls, which he refused to do. 

First, Grisson says, they tried to get him to make a tape-recorded phone call to Cathy Curry, who was Wershe’s live-in girlfriend at the time. They wanted to hear what Cathy would say, Grisson states.

“I ain’t callin’ nobody,” Grisson says he told the narcs. 

Next, they wanted him to call Rick Wershe and set up a "deal." Grisson says he told the narcs they were crazy. This kind of exchange went on for hours. “They stayed on me,” he says. “They wanted to know if I was going to join their team,” Grisson recalls. 

Grisson says he knew nothing about any dope deals Rick Wershe may have been involved in but the narcs weren’t buying it. “Hell, no! I wasn’t in on no deals!” Grisson insists. 

The DEA-6 report on Grisson given to the Parole Board at Wershe’s 2003 hearing claims Grisson told Special Agent Crock about Wershe’s “narcotics organization” and that “WERSHE, Jr. directs the distribution of 200 to 300 kilograms of cocaine monthly.” 

Grisson purportedly told Crock he personally received five to ten kilograms a month from Wershe to distribute. The cocaine is purchased for $17,000 per kilogram in Miami and sold in Detroit for $22,000.” 

Grisson says Crock made it up. “That’s a bunch of bullshit,” Grisson insists. 

Regarding Rick Wershe’s alleged dope deals, “I didn’t know any of that,” Grisson insists. “That wasn’t any of my business.” 

The DEA-6 report further states, “GRISSON requested DEA protection from WERSHE in return for his total cooperation.” 

Not true, not even a little bit, according to Grisson, as we will see in a moment. 

Grisson states after hours of “sweating me” the DEA and Detroit Police narcs grew increasingly frustrated with him. 

Grisson recalls the narcs fell asleep while holding him at the suburban motel and that he eventually heard someone from the motel staff outside the room and scribbled a quick note and gave it to a young man who was some kind of employee at the motel, along with some money Grisson had in his pocket. He begged the young man to call his family. Grisson hoped but didn’t know if the motel employee would make the call. He did. 

The next morning, Grisson says, most of his family showed up at the motel and caused a disturbance in the lobby. They demanded to see him. The clerk called the room and told the cops Grisson’s family, who knew he had been in the hospital for gunshot wounds, was insisting they be allowed to see him. 

The narcs, Grisson says, spirited him down a back stairwell and threw him in their van and drove him to downtown Detroit. Grisson says the narcs dumped him in front of Funky Broadway, a clothing store. Grisson says he went to Henry the Hatter, a nearby store and used the phone to call his family. 

Once he was with his family, Grisson says he called Rick Wershe and Cathy Volsan. Wershe immediately offered to put Grisson in the Michigan Inn, a nice hotel in suburban Southfield. He stayed there recuperating from his wounds—and hiding out—for nearly a month. 

“I stayed out there to stay away from the DEA,” Grisson says. “I wasn’t hiding from the street. I was hiding from the DEA,” Grisson states. “I was scared of the DEA.” 

Grisson says the notion that Rick Wershe was a “drug lord” or “kingpin” is ridiculous.

“If he was such a big dope dealer why did he still live in the ‘hood?” Grisson asks pointedly. "Where was the money?" “Hell no! He didn’t have no big money! Grisson argues. He says Wershe bought some cars, some clothes, some jewelry, but that’s it. 

As for the “drug lord” and “kingpin” labels used by the law enforcement establishment, Grisson urges people to use their common sense. 

“Come on!” Grisson says with passion in his voice. "Who would trust a kid with 200 keys of coke a month??!!” Grisson asks rhetorically. Wershe was 16-17 during this time period. 

“Who would trust a child with that kind of dope? Come on!” Grisson says, voice rising. “That’s crazy! That’s stupid! A kid? Come on!”

No comments:

Post a Comment