Crimes of Passion : Before His Winning Streak Ended at 24 Heists, Raider Fan Claude Jones Robbed Banks So That He Could Root for His Team in Style

SACRAMENTO — It was a rotten weekend for Claude Dawson Jones.

On Friday, Jan. 18, he awoke in Room 211 of the Best Western motel on Richards Boulevard to the sound of three loud raps on the door.

It wasn’t room service. Jones peered outside at police, sheriff’s deputies, FBI. Guns were cocked and pointed at his head.

Jones surrendered without incident and admitted to 24 bank robberies during a whirlwind 10-week spree that began Nov. 7, 1990. Inside the motel room, authorities found what was described as a shrine to the Raiders: jackets, jerseys, caps, ticket stubs, canceled airline tickets.

“There was Raider paraphernalia all around,” FBI spokesman Tom Griffin said. “It’s safe to say he was an avid fan.”

So avid that Jones had used the booty to help support his Raider obsession. Confiscated at the scene was a round-trip airline ticket to Buffalo for the AFC championship game between the Raiders and the Buffalo Bills that Sunday. Crime had paid for several lavish Raider excursions, expensive meals and parties, clothes, and countless rounds of Raider toasts at local taverns.

Jones used the money to secure passage to Detroit and garner 40-yard-line seats for a Dec. 10 Monday night game against the Lions at the Pontiac Silverdome.

Two days after his arrest, Sunday, as Jones sat in Sacramento County Jail, the other shoe dropped. The Bills routed the Raiders in the AFC title game at Orchard Park, N.Y., 51-3. From his cell, Jones strained to hear game updates from a distant television set.

Security guards weren’t much help.

“Most of them were 49er fans,” Jones complained.

Informed that the Raiders were trailing at halftime, 41-3, Jones buried his head in his hands.

“It wasn’t a very good weekend, to say the least,” he said.

Like the Raiders, who had won six consecutive games before the Buffalo loss, Jones had seen an impressive winning streak end. He had managed 24 bank robberies with very few complications. Once, he handed his demand slip to an inexperienced auxiliary teller who panicked, prompting Jones to flee the scene cashless.

On Dec. 19, 1990, during a hold-up of World Savings, Jones collected his loot and discovered his exit door was locked. It was 4:30 p.m., closing time. The bank manager, unaware of the robbery, cheerfully unlocked the door for Jones and said, “Have a nice day. Come back again.”

Jones never used a gun or wore Raider apparel during robberies. Occasionally, he would don a cap of the loathed San Francisco 49ers, simply to throw investigators off course. Jones in a 49er cap? Inconceivable.

“It was the ultimate disguise,” he said.

Jones held his demand notes down on the countertop with both hands while frightened tellers read the same, sloppily written message: “Give me 20s, 100s and 50s. No alarms. Hurry up.”

The robberies were all quick hits and produced low yields. His 24 robberies produced a total of $25,253. But going back for more seemed as convenient as drive-throughautomated teller machines.

Jones had once worked for the Bank of America in Sacramento, quitting in disgust when asked to take a 25% pay cut. Jones knew how banks worked, what tellers knew, where surveillance cameras were situated. He never robbed a B of A branch, though. Fear of being recognized, he said.

To conceal his identity, Jones pulled a baseball cap down over his forehead so that it almost covered his eyes. The robberies seemed to get easier with each attempt. Then he made a slip.

“I got lazy,” he said.

During a robbery at Heart Federal Savings on Jan. 11, Jones failed to pull his cap down far enough, and an overhead camera snapped his picture. The surveillance photo was soon posted in area banks. Six days later, Dave Johnson, a Bank of America manager, called the FBI and said three of his employees thought the photo resembled a former worker, Claude Jones.

In court records, FBI agent Clifford C. Holly said he matched the photo with Jones’ Department of Motor Vehicles picture. The Sacramento Sheriff’s Department traced Jones to the motel after running a license plate check on his rental car.

Jones’ own car had been stolen in December while he was attending a Raider game in Los Angeles.

Jones pulled his final heist, No. 24, at a Security Pacific branch on Jan. 17, one day before his arrest and the scheduled trip to Buffalo. Jones needed spending money for his Raider junket and ended up with $2,774, one of his biggest hauls.

In the back of his mind, he said, Jones knew he was pushing his luck. To keep one step ahead of the law, he had never remained in one hotel for more than two days at a time, yet there he slept that Friday morning at the Best Western, on a fourth consecutive day. His room number alone should have been an omen.

“Two-eleven,” Jones said dryly. “That’s the penal code (section) for robbery.”

In a plea agreement, Jones, who had no prior arrests, pleaded guilty to six felony counts of bank robbery. In exchange, the U.S. Attorney’s office has recommended that he receive no more than 97 months in prison.

Until his sentencing June 20, Jones is being held by U.S. marshals at the Yolo County Sheriff’s Detention Complex in Woodland, about 10 miles north of Sacramento.

Because of the unique nature of his case, perhaps, Jones said he has been treated well.

“There are a lot of Raider fans in jail,” he quipped during a recent interview at the detention center.

Jones doesn’t know to which federal facility he will be sent. He’s pulling hard for Lompoc and rooting against Denver, home of the Broncos.

“That’s the worst punishment any Raider fan can get, getting sent to Denver,” he said. “But a true Raider fan will not fear any Denver fan.”

Jones’ passion for the Raiders began while he was a child in North Sacramento, kindled by his parents, who bought him a team jersey with fullback Marv Hubbard’s No. 44.

Jones, 32, does not see his crimes as the demented backlash of devoted Raider worship. He does, however, espouse the franchise’s long-perceived image of rebelliousness. Jones lived vicariously through his team--a franchise famous for resurrecting castoffs and hard cases, a team obsessed with the singular purpose of success, no matter the means or public perception.

“It’s an attitude,” Jones said. “Sometimes people like the bad guy. Almost everybody I grew up with liked the Raiders. I was brash, cocky. I was erratic, I raised hell.”

Jones took some of that Raider rage into his bank robberies, explaining, “It’s kind of like, as long as you can get away with it, there are no rules.”

But the problems that led to his crime spree were deep-rooted and more complex than Raider passion gone awry, Jones said, citing despair over the breakup of his marriage, a long-running dependence on drugs and alcohol, and unhappiness with his work. It all exploded Nov. 7.

A prison psychologist suggested that Jones, through his crimes, was trying to seek revenge against everyone who had turned on him. The Raiders, through it all, had remained loyal.

“I didn’t have anything left,” Jones said. “But there was always hope with them.”

Jones plans to write Raider owner Al Davis a letter of apology.

“I’ve embarrassed the team,” he said. “I would tell him that I just lost control. It was my fault. I robbed banks to go to Raider games. But they didn’t tell me to rob banks. I should have finished school, got a better job and made enough money to pay for the games myself.”

Jones hopes Davis will understand.

“I wish I could have hired his lawyers,” Jones said.

Jones never thought it would end like this. He was atop the world in February of 1984, when, in the span of a month, the Raiders defeated the Washington Redskins in Super Bowl XVIII, and Jones married his girlfriend, Candy.

“We had just won the Super Bowl,” he said. “I was real, real happy.”

It was time to settle down. Jones had played tight end at Rio Linda High in Sacramento, spent four years in the Air Force and seemed ready to accept everyday life.

But Jones had long been a heavy drinker, he said, and had experimented with an assortment of drugs.

“I partied a lot,” he said.

It didn’t help that his wife became a 49er fan during the team’s dynasty of the 1980s, while the Raiders suffered through four non-winning seasons late in the decade.

“The 49ers went crazy, and she liked them,” Jones said. “She thought they had some cute guys. She got real knowledgeable about the game, watching it with us.”

Jones said he and Candy would often argue about which was the better franchise.

“I would never accept that they were better than us,” Jones said. “I would recite to her the Raider facts, you know, facts according to Claude: You never lose, time just runs out on you. And we always knew we had the refs against us. We are the greatest professional franchise in the history of sports.”

Candy maintains that football had nothing to do with their breakup.

“It’s not the reason we separated,” she said, declining to explain further.

The couple parted in March of 1990. The divorce becomes final in July. Even so, Candy said that she was shocked by the news of Claude’s arrest.

“He really liked the Raiders, but I didn’t realize he’d do anything for them,” she said.

Claude and Candy have two girls--Jessica, 6, and Julianne, 4.

After the arrest, Jessica told her father: “Daddy, I like the Raiders, too, but you shouldn’t have robbed a bank to see them.”

Jones grew despondent over the breakup. He started drinking more. He hated his job at the bank, quit, then found employment at the Franchise Tax Board. He hated that, too. He moved in with his sister, Donna Shear, a dispatcher for the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Department--her brother’s name would show up later on her blotter. But that setup didn’t last long, either.

In November, Jones said he snapped. He had planned to drive down to Los Angeles on the weekend of Nov. 11 for a Raider game against the Green Bay Packers, but was running short of cash.

That’s when Jones decided to rob a bank. He drove around for hours, casing various locations. He walked in and out of 20 banks before building up the nerve.

“I finally had to do it because I was running out of gas,” he said.

So, on Nov. 7, Jones walked into First American Savings and walked out with $1,100.

“I was real numb, it was like a dream,” he said of the experience. “Real weird.”

Jones had a rip-roaring time in Los Angeles that weekend. He stayed at the Hacienda Hotel in El Segundo, a block from the Raiders’ training complex. He drank at Raider hangouts, bought rounds, went through $20 bills as if they were breath mints and raised hell on Sunday.

The Raiders lost, 29-16, but Jones took it surprisingly well. He swore he would never rob again, but in fact held up nine more banks in the next four weeks.

The 10th was a Security Pacific on Dec. 7, “Pearl Harbor Day,” Jones remembered. He took $2,300 in that heist, then went back to his favorite bar, “Bleachers,” to celebrate. It was a Friday.

Jones had severed all ties with friends and family by this time. He told new friends at the bar he was a bookie. He remembers buying rounds and rounds of “kamikaze” drinks for the patrons that night, then impulsively decided he was going to spend the weekend in Los Angeles. He drove to the airport and booked the next flight out.

On approach to Los Angeles International Airport, Jones caught a glimpse of the Coliseum.

“All that Raidermania hit me,” he said. “I said, ‘I’ve got to go see the boys play.’ ”

The Raiders were scheduled to play in Detroit the following Monday night. Jones landed in L.A. and was on a flight to Detroit within an hour. When he arrived, Jones hired a limousine service to drive him to the Kingsley Inn in Bloomfield Hills, a Detroit suburb.

The hotel was booked, but Jones flashed the manager a roll of $100 bills, and, he said, “They started jumping around.”

Wearing his black Raider jacket, Jones perched in the hotel bar and struck up conversations with a highbrow suit-and-tie crowd. He emerged with new friendships and one choice 40-yard-line ticket for the game.

Before kickoff, he stopped at a local mall to buy new clothes.

“And we prevailed,” he said of the Raiders’ 38-31 victory.

Jones flew home to Sacramento, then back to Los Angeles for the game Dec. 16 against the Cincinnati Bengals. He skipped a trip to Minnesota Dec. 22 because of bad weather.

“It was seven degrees,” Jones said. “Someone said it was a domed stadium, but I said, ‘It isn’t a domed state.’ ”

Jones, though, was back in Los Angeles for the season finale against San Diego, the Raiders needing a victory over the Chargers to clinch the AFC Western Division title.

The day before, on Saturday, Dec. 29, Jones had talked his way into the Raider practice, although it was closed to the public. Less than two weeks later, a Buffalo sportswriter previewing the championship game was forced to leave the team’s facility after he was caught watching practice.

Jones spent the Charger game sitting with new friends Mark and Patti Parsons, Raider season ticket-holders from Sepulveda. Jones had met them at the Packer game.

Jones and Mark used to head-butt one another to celebrate Raider touchdowns.

His friends invited Jones to spend New Year’s Eve at their home. Jones, of course, never told anyone that he was a bank robber.

“We played poker all night,” Mark Parsons said. “I sort of questioned it when he got so excited over $100 bets.”

Parsons, a Hollywood grip, had agreed to join Jones for the AFC title game in Buffalo. Jones’ ticket was routed from Sacramento through Los Angeles. Parsons turned down a chance to work on the Magic Johnson commercial for Kentucky Fried Chicken to make the trip.

On that Friday afternoon, Jan. 18, Patti Parsons received a call from the FBI. She told Mark to sit down.

“It was pretty nauseating,” Mark said. “I housed a big-time felon. But he was a lot of fun. Too bad he couldn’t have made the money legally.”

Mark and Patti Parsons have a new rule around the house.

“I’m not allowed to take home fans from Raider games anymore,” Mark said.

With time off for good behavior, Jones could be paroled in 6 years 10 months. Given his crime, he considers himself fortunate. Jones said he feels remorse for those he has hurt--his wife, their two girls, a sister, friends.

Jones wrote a long, apologetic letter to his parents, who live in Georgia.

He has seen his daughters only once since Christmas. Rather than hide the truth, the girls were told that Daddy was a bank robber.

“I realize what I did to the people I robbed,” he said. “Most of the tellers were ladies, and I know they were scared. I can’t tell them personally that I am sorry, but I am.”

Jones said his life of crime is over.

“I was president of Little League before,” he said. “I was involved with youth groups. I sang in the choir. I was a leading citizen. I just went off. But it’s not going to happen anymore. I’m not going to be a criminal.

“Of course, I have to prove it. I had everything going for me--a nice wife, two kids, a dog, the American dream. I lost everything. She was a good wife. It was my fault. I messed up.”

Jones wants to take correspondence courses in prison and further his education after his release.

He will be looking for a break, an employer willing to take a chance. Jones seeks a refuge to rehabilitate his image, a place where performance is the only requisite.

A Commitment to Excellence?

“My dream, when I get out of prison, is to work for the Raiders,” Jones said. “I’d do anything for them. I’d like to do something constructive. . . . I wouldn’t do their banking.”