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Bellagio Bandit: How One Man Robbed Vegas' Biggest Casino and Almost Got Away. Tony Carleo stole $1 million in chips – then checked.


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When Carleo woke up the next morning, he was desperate to get back to even. He was overmatched by the young pros in their headphones and hoodies, but the cards were running his way. Now deeply in debt, he was forced to sell his own house and let the properties go into foreclosure. He lived like his supply of stolen chips was not merely immense, but inexhaustible. Still, he tried to be cagey, admitting only that he might know a guy who could get his hands on the chips. In May of he filed for bankruptcy. Carleo elbowed his way through the crowd to get closer to the action. I was too impatient. Carleo could detect no obvious signs of trouble along the familiar route to the poker room. By then, Carleo estimates that he was snorting or smoking at least eight 80 milligram OxyContin pills a day, mixing in a line of cocaine when he started to nod off at the tables. In less than an hour, the dealer relieved Carleo of his last dollar. By the dinner break Carleo had enough chips that he thought he had a pretty good chance of cashing out on top. Leo started playing detective, talking to other dealers and the cashiers to confirm his suspicion that the poker player was buying in with chips and not cash. For a couple of semesters, he held it together, managing to keep up his studies despite the distractions of his new city and a lingering addiction to OxyContin. He was sitting in games he never would have been able to afford before. He wore dark coveralls, rubber gloves and a motorcycle helmet with the visor down. Leo said that in the days leading up to the robbery, he had spoken with a poker player who had fallen on hard times and had shared a fantasy he had of stealing casino chips. During a minute call, Brooks says, Carleo shared details about the robbery. Casinos like the Bellagio employ an army of professionals to lavish attention on high rollers, showering them with free meals and rooms and tickets to shows in hopes that they will stay longer and gamble more. Carleo had spent his twenties in Pueblo, Colorado trading one new scheme for the next. None of the dealers or security guards treated him any differently than the thousands of other gamblers chasing their fortunes at one table or another. He called around to different drug friends, trying to find someone who wanted to buy some of his store of OxyContin. The score had boosted his confidence; this time, the adrenaline seemed to heighten his perceptions and clarify his thinking. Whatever Carleo thought about the doctor, he immediately liked Dominic: tall, good-looking and full of the Italian-American swagger Carleo hoped to project as well.{/INSERTKEYS}{/PARAGRAPH} Carleo waved the pistol and the man fell back. But then fight or flight kicked in. Carleo, then 29, had moved to Las Vegas 16 months earlier to take classes at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas; he wanted to apply to medical school after he graduated. To hit hard eight once was improbable, to hit it four times in row nearly impossible. A man was betting on hard eight, that the dice would land showing exactly four and four before he threw a seven or another combination that added up to eight. As the hours ticked down toward , Alex and a woman Carleo had picked up earlier that day in the Bellagio gift shop watched Carleo get savaged at a blackjack table. And I flew. There were millions of dollars worth of purple and yellow and red-white-and-blue chips arrayed in front of the dealer, and tonight Carleo could take as many as he could grab. It was yards back through the casino to his bike. {PARAGRAPH}{INSERTKEYS}Tony Carleo, a. An old knee injury and the extra layers of clothing he wore under his coveralls made his movements feel like running through surf. When it was time for Alex to fly back to Colorado, the two of them fought in the car on the ride to the airport. In a matter of hours, Carleo lost six grand. The real drain, though, was the same as it had always been: gambling. The Suncoast was perfect for what he had in mind; it was 20 yards from the poker room cashier to a side entrance where he could park his motorcycle. He was in and out long before security or police could arrive. He found his way to the craps pit, to Table Number Five, the very same table he had robbed. Kaveh, and a connected guy from New Jersey named Dominic who would be the buyer. He parked his Suzuki motorcycle near the valet stand, backing the bike onto a little service path so that its front tire pointed away from the casino. But, because he had stolen chips instead of cash, he was really only a millionaire inside the Bellagio casino. Alex and the woman tried to get Carleo to leave the table, but he told them to get the fuck away from him. In a booth just outside the casino entrance sat a lone security guard, a small elderly woman. There were no Wanted posters with his picture on them. Carleo found a seat at a high stakes poker game, buying in with hundred dollar bills from the Suncoast robbery. But once I did it, I knew anything was possible. Alex says Carleo was in terrible shape, his skin sallow, his eyes sunk deep into their sockets. Inside the casino, Carleo kept close to one wall, moving past the banks of blinking and chirping slot machines, patron-less at this late hour. Carleo stumbled out of the casino to his car, angry and ashamed. On the poker forum TwoPlusTwo. Each time he let it ride. And because trying to redeem too many chips at once might bring unwanted attention, he would have to do it over and over again. She waved back. He shoveled handful after handful into a backpack he wore backwards across his chest. On every blackjack and pai gow and craps table were hundreds of thousands of dollars, just sitting there. The poker room was the safest place for his laundering operation, but it was only a couple of nights before he went in search of faster action. As he was about to head off to find a bite to eat and a quiet place to do a rail or two of Oxy, a doughy, older man sidled up to his table. It was a fantasy that has come to every gambler deep in the hole: What if I just reach across the table and grab them? A week later, they pulled his player records. The stickman and dealers and players lurched back. If the other players paid him any mind, it was only because they wanted to take his money. Detective Nelson learned that Carleo held a class M license to drive a motorcycle, that he had declared bankruptcy a year before, that all of a sudden he had started gambling big money. In one of his messages, Carleo provided the number to a disposable cellphone, so Brooks called him up, as much out of curiosity as anything. At around midnight, he switched to black jack, laying out all his remaining cash on the table. A week later, Leo saw the poker player again, only now he seemed to have come into a lot of money. By this point, Carleo barely left the Bellagio, except to pick up stolen chips he had stashed with friends around town, or to unload cash into a safety deposit box at a nearby bank. The man knew the poker dealer and made small talk, before finally introducing himself to Carleo. When Carleo reached the heavy double doors, one of the valet attendants tried to block his path. Brooks forwarded the photo to the Bellagio and the Las Vegas Police. Eventually he began plowing all his money into buying up rental properties, signing for loans with balloon payments that would kick in after a couple of years. There was, of course, another way for Carleo to get his hands on casino chips in a hurry. On and on the man rolled, somehow avoiding crapping out — he hit hard eight again and then once more. He fantasized about cutting a deal with a big name poker pro like Phil Ivey, someone the Bellagio could conceivably believe had access to a major bankroll. Still, Carleo was often lonely in Las Vegas, a condition he tried to assuage by spending more and more time in casinos. The crowd of people exploded. He took over a spare room at the house of his father, Las Vegas municipal court judge George Assad, and tried to keep his life on the straight and narrow. When the New Year finally arrived and fireworks lit up the sky over the Las Vegas Strip, Carleo was still inside, hunched over the felt, chasing his losses until he had burned through all the chips and cash he had on hand. When the financial crisis hit, Carleo was left holding the bag on a series of underwater mortgages. Carleo did finally come to the attention of casino management, but not as a suspected criminal. Otherwise a gun is just a paperweight. Carleo gunned the engine and tore away down Flamingo Road into the desert night. Two nights later, Carleo got a text message inviting him to a poker game at the Suncoast Casino not far from where he lived. I was going to smash and grab at the Cartier shop. Carleo, strung-out on six weeks of drugs and gambling, made no connection between the doctor and what he had revealed to Matt Brooks on the phone. So, Carleo gambled. Carleo knew he could take the kid, and he knew that if he could get his hands on that bag, the relentless pain that had overtaken him would stop. In his left hand, hidden inside his front pocket, was a gun. In late November of , during a two-week break from classes, things for Carleo started to fall apart. One man dove to the side like a stuntman in an action film. Quickly, he closed the last 20 yards to the table and pulled out his gun. We cried a little bit and then went our separate ways. After 15 seconds that could have been 15 days, something inside of him screamed out in alarm. He helped manage a family bar and limo business; worked as a DJ; dealt weed, ecstasy, pain pills and coke; sold roofing out of his truck after bad hailstorms damaged houses around town. Earlier in the night, Carleo had supplemented his adrenaline with several rails of cocaine and OxyContin — still, he somehow had the wherewithal to wave at the guard. He was smart enough to know that trying to cash a single cranberry chip would raise suspicions, but beyond that, Carleo acted with very little restraint. He had a girlfriend, as well as a series of assignations with other women attracted to his dark Italian features, broad chest, and liberal supply of drugs.