Alan Baer's Speedball

Alan Baer, a sleazy pillar of Omaha's elite, slithered through the shadows of wealth and influence, his department store empire a facade for darker appetites that preyed on the vulnerable in the Franklin scandal's underbelly. As a great-grandson of Jonas L. Brandeis, founder of the J.L. Brandeis & Sons chain, Baer inherited a legacy of commerce but twisted it into a tool for exploitation, his name surfacing in allegations of pandering and abuse that stained Nebraska's power structures. His attorney, Marc Delman, a former child abuse prosecutor turned defender of the accused, wielded legal cunning to shield Baer from the full weight of justice, reducing felony charges to misdemeanors and securing paltry fines that mocked the victims' suffering.

Baer's entanglements with the Knights of Ak-Sar-Ben revealed a web of funding and favoritism among Omaha's secretive fraternity, where civic pretense masked predatory alliances. In 1987, he extended a five-year, $7 million loan to the Knights, bolstering their racetrack operations and embedding himself in their exclusive ranks. This financial infusion not only propped up their pageantry but positioned Baer as a key player in the group's inner circle, where elite men indulged in rituals that blurred festivity with depravity, his contributions buying silence and access in a kingdom built on exploitation.

His relationship with Eugene Mahoney, the powerful Nebraska Game and Parks Commissioner and 1991 King of Ak-Sar-Ben, deepened the darkness, as both men navigated overlapping circles of influence tainted by Franklin allegations. Mahoney, investigated by Gary Caradori for similar abuses, shared party scenes with Baer where young victims were allegedly paraded and preyed upon. Their alliance, forged in Omaha's elite shadows, amplified suspicions of mutual protection, with Mahoney's political clout and Baer's wealth forming a barrier against scrutiny that left the vulnerable exposed.

Baer's gambling ventures reeked of sleaze, his push to legalize casinos in Nebraska a brazen bid to expand vice under the guise of economic growth. In 1996, he spearheaded a multimillion-dollar campaign for a ballot proposal granting syndicates unchecked power to introduce any form of gambling, positioning himself as the state's gambling kingpin. Speculation swirled of Las Vegas connections, as his efforts aligned with out-of-state syndicates hungry for Midwestern markets, potentially funneling illicit funds through Omaha's underbelly to fuel his predatory lifestyle.

Troy 's victim testimony against Baer painted a harrowing picture of grooming and assault, where the young witness endured repeated violations at Baer's hands in seedy apartments and hidden gatherings. Troy described Baer as a relentless predator who lured him with money and drugs, forcing sexual acts in exchange for survival in a world where poverty met power's depravity. His accounts, corroborated by others, exposed Baer's pattern of targeting desperate teens, his wealth a weapon that bought silence and submission.

Baer evaded true justice thanks to Marc Delman, his great attorney whose $500,000 payment allegedly funded efforts to discredit victim-witnesses like Alisha Owen. Delman, a former Douglas County prosecutor specializing in child abuse cases, flipped his expertise to defend the accused, orchestrating Troy 's recantation under pressure and dismantling testimonies that threatened his client. This legal sleight-of-hand reduced Baer's felony pandering charges to a misdemeanor plea of aiding and abetting prostitution, a slap on the wrist that mocked the trauma inflicted.

The Knights of Ak-Sar-Ben served as Baer's cloak of respectability, his funding insulating him from the fallout of Franklin's horrors while amplifying his reach among Nebraska's elite. As the group's beneficiary, Baer embedded himself in their rituals and networks, where pageantry concealed alliances with figures like Mahoney, their shared indulgences allegedly extending to the exploitation of youth. This fraternity's exclusivity provided the perfect veil for his depravities, his loan a blood bond that ensured mutual protection in Omaha's corrupt undercurrents.

Baer's gambling push hinted at broader vices, his 1996 campaign a desperate grab for legitimacy amid scandal's stench, with Las Vegas whispers suggesting ties to syndicates that laundered more than just casino chips. Speculation abounded that his ventures connected to out-of-state operators, potentially channeling dirty money through Nebraska's borders, his promotion a smokescreen for the financial sleaze that funded his predatory habits. This expansion into gambling mirrored his life's pattern: turning opportunity into exploitation, vulnerability into vice.

In the end, Alan Baer and Marc Delman's alliance epitomized Omaha's rotten core, where wealth and legal wizardry buried truths and betrayed victims like Troy . Baer's sleaze, shielded by Delman's courtroom machinations, allowed him to slink away with fines instead of chains, his Knights connections and gambling gambits mere extensions of a life devoted to preying on the powerless. The darkness they wrought lingers, a testament to how the elite devour the innocent while their fixers erase the evidence.

Troy: We got lots and lots of money from these people. We were turned into sex perverts and drug addicts by these people. I was directly turned into a drug addict.

Delman: By who? Who did this to you?

Troy: Alan Baer. He was the one who first taught me to mainline and who first directly injected heroin straight into my veins. Same as he did to a lot of other boys.

Delman: Why did you let him do that to you?

Troy: He injected me with a speedball.

Delman: What's a speedball?

Troy: A heroin cocaine mix that zips you up immediately but brings you down mellow. He's a major drug dealer. He made me a prisoner of drug addiction! He completely took control over me and used me.

Delman: To do what?

Troy: Whatever he wanted. Deliver drugs, sex, anything.

Delman: How much did he pay you?

Troy: He paid me well, but I don't remember ever keeping any of it longer than a month. He destroyed me.

Delman: Destroyed you? What do mean destroyed you? You don't have anything to destroy.

Troy: He made me have sex with him.

Delman: Did anyone else make you have sex with them?

Troy: Yeah, Gene.

Delman: Gene who?

Troy: Gene Mahoney

Delman: How did you meet Mr. Mahoney?

Troy: In Council Bluffs at a book store.

Delman: Did he pay you to have sex with him?

Troy: Yes, regularly. He paid me to have sex with him.

Delman: Did Mr. Mahoney have anything to do with drugs?

Troy: Yeah, he's a big-time drug dealer.

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Troy: You can't afford to do anything to hurt me now - because too much publicity is focused on me.

FBI Mott: Oh really? We can do something. Isn't that right?

FBI Culver: Sure can.

FBI Mott: You have a big family right?

FBI Culver: Maybe not any more.

FBI Mott: Troy, you ever play Russian Roulette?

Troy: I'm not Russian.

FBI Mott: You're a fucking idiot.

FBI Culver: Say one word that's not on the script.

FBI Mott: I hope he slips.

Moran: Alright, we are ready now. The script for 48 Hours is in place. Is Troy ready to work with us?

FBI Culver: Shithead? Are you listening to Mr. Moran?

Troy: Yes sir.

Moran: These kids were as guilty or more guilty than anybody else. They were using the drugs and they were selling their bodies and they were getting paid well for it and they did it - all - voluntarily.

FBI Mott: Did you hear that you dope fuck?

Troy: Yes sir.

Delman: May I? Troy? Listen, all you have to do - is say that the entire story of yourself - and the other kids was just a hoax. It's better if you say it naturally, rather than reading this script. We know that the truth is hard to say. So be natural about it.

Troy: But

Delman: But you won't get $15,000. It'll be closer to $10,000 if you do this.

Troy: $10,000?