A Modern-Day Robin Hood
Scott Scurlock’s family was never quite sure what he did for a living.
"Scotty was someone my sister and I used to laughingly call the master of disinformation," says his sister Suzanne Scurlock. She says he told his family he worked in construction.
But in 1991, Scurlock, then 36, was looking for a new line of work. His drug-dealing days behind him, Scurlock needed money - and lots of it.
Local waitress Pam Oates says he had expensive tastes. "He always ordered real expensive champagne. And he always left you a $100 tip. He was always so generous." She thought he might be a drug dealer.
Perhaps inspired by the recently released film "Robin Hood," which he loved, Scurlock decided to try bank robbery. For help, he approached an old college friend named Mark Biggins. Craig Eidsmoe, Biggins’ friend and the best man at his wedding, says that Biggins was an unlikely bank robber: "I would have imagined him being a kindergarten teacher long before being a bank robber... He was just a real, sweet, kind fellow and he wasn't real adventurous. He wasn't a risk-taker."
After college, Biggins hit a low stretch. With no steady job, a failing marriage, a drug problem, and a daughter to support, he needed help. And for years, Scurlock had helped out, letting Biggins live and work on his property.
So now, when Scurlock said he needed help, Biggins apparently felt obligated. And it seemed like an easy way to make money. Certainly it was easy in the movies. In 1991, another movie, "Point Break" with Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves, told the story of surfers who rob banks, in large part for the thrill of it. Scurlock watched the movie repeatedly. Rule thinks the film inspired him.
On June 25 1992, Scurlock and Biggins robbed their first bank. As the robbers did in "Point Break," they wore masks. Unlike in the movie, things went terribly wrong. They had planned to steal a car from someone in the bank. But Biggins was so nervous, he flooded the engine, and it wouldn’t start. They got out of the car, ran down an alley, where some vicious dogs almost hopped a fence after them. The pair eventually ran across a golf course and got away.
The experience so terrified Biggins that he packed up and left. But Scurlock, who had always thrived on risk, started rbbing banks on his own.
Steve Meyers says his friend had been studying FBI forensics, as well as other bank robberies across the country. Scurlock approached Steve Meyers for help. Meyers refused.
But finally, feeling indebted, he agreed to help launder the money, which he did on gambling trips to Las Vegas: A lot of trips. In 1992, Scurlock hit six banks, perfecting his skills along the way.
His sixth robbery netted over $250,000. It wa sthen that FBI agent Shawn Johnson realized that this bank robber knew what he was doing. Johnson says his prey left very few clues. For the next three years, Johnson would chase the man who came to be known as "Hollywood."
And Seattle in the 90's was an ideal place to rob banks. Bank branches multiplied a decade ago, says Seattle detective Mike Magan, to service the high-tech gold rush, and its new millionaires. "They’re as common as coffee carts here, espresso stands," he says. Scurlock was taking more money than any robber Magan had chased.
Johnson became fascinated with his quarry, from his clever disguises – which included pancake makeup, false wigs, even false chins - to his athleticism during the robberies. Scurlock jumped over counters at some of the banks.
Scurlock became more brazen over time. "As his career progressed, he was in the bank somewhere from three to four minutes. The average bank robber would probably be in there less than a minute," says Johnson.
Scurlock may have felt comfortable taking his time, because he was being helped by Steven Meyers, who stayed in the car outside the bank with a radio and a police scanner. If he heard that someone had called 911, he would radio Scurlock in the bank.
They planned carefully. They often hit during shift changes, or when patrol cars were dispersed. They always used more than one getaway car. They took pains to buy these cars anonymously. Magan thought that the robber might even be a police officer. "They had nothing on us forensically—zero," says Steve Meyers. "He (Scurlock) worked hard at that."
Says Meyers: "(We) paid a lot of people, so that nothing would ever be traced back to him - either cars that we intentionally left for the FBI, people to work in banks to give us inside information times. The FBI called them "promit" tags - and these are the electronic tracers they put on the money. We knew some of the banks in Seattle (had)tracers. The banks that didn't carry tracers were the ones we robbed."
Occasionally, they robbed larger banks. To help control these situations, Scurlock convinced Biggins to give it another try. Biggins served as "crowd control" inside the bank, says FBI agent Johnson.
Even now, Steve Meyers praises Scurlock's efficient approach: "Nobody ever was hurt, and nobody was ever intended to be hurt."
"Most people working in banks realize this guy's not afraid. And that is more frightening and commanding without having to be crazy." Even without the robbers shooting, some ank employees were terrified. One, Susan Bartlett, quit after the robberies, and sought therapy.
By the end of 1995, Scurlock had stolen almost $1 million. By then, Johnson had discerned a pattern. The frequency of the robberies seemed to be determined by how much money he got. Johnson calculated that the robber needed $20,000 a month. According to his calculations, Hollywood would run out of money around January 25, 1996. Johnson was right about the day, but he picked the wrong bank – Scurlock robbed a bank about two miles from the bank where Johnson was staked out.
By the middle of that year, Scurlock had robbed two more banks, taking $250,000. He had robbed 17 banks in four years.
Magan became obsessed, climbing on bank rooftops late at night in search of some clue he’d missed. Johnson put a $50,000 reward out for the robber’s capture.
For Scurlock and his friends, the attention only upped the ante. This was a point in time in which it became personal,” Steven Meyers says. They began planning to rob five banks in one two-hour period. They planned to jam police frequencies in the city. They scaled back this plan, Meyers says, after learning that the cops had persuaded every bank in Seattle to put electronic tracers in with the money. The robbers focused then on one bank.
Meyers says they planned for this to be the last job. They had been told that there would be between $3 and $4 million there during the robbery. They decided to chance the tracers.
"The adrenaline rush, the excitement, the control - elements I think maybe - were more important than - than the money," says Johnson.
"It was either we’re gonna live through it, or we... die," says Meyers.
Behind the bravado, Scurlock was feeling the stress. He was drinking heavily. Friends not involved in the robberies, like former pal Kevin Meyers, were told to stay away. His sister, Suzanne Scurlock, recalls an odd exchange he had with his young niece.
"She looks at me and says, 'Uncle Scott's only gonna live 'til he's 42.' And I said, 'What?' She said, 'Yeah, he just told me that.' So I marched her back in the living room. He was still in the living room, doing something, reading a magazine or something. And I said, 'Uncle Scott, what are you telling her?' And he hemmed and hawed, and left the room."
What happens next? Find out:
Part III: The Dream Unravels || Murder They Wrote Section
© MMI, CBS Worldwide Inc. All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2009 CBS. All rights reserved. "Scotty was someone my sister and I used to laughingly call the master of disinformation," says his sister Suzanne Scurlock. She says he told his family he worked in construction.
But in 1991, Scurlock, then 36, was looking for a new line of work. His drug-dealing days behind him, Scurlock needed money - and lots of it.
Local waitress Pam Oates says he had expensive tastes. "He always ordered real expensive champagne. And he always left you a $100 tip. He was always so generous." She thought he might be a drug dealer.
Perhaps inspired by the recently released film "Robin Hood," which he loved, Scurlock decided to try bank robbery. For help, he approached an old college friend named Mark Biggins. Craig Eidsmoe, Biggins’ friend and the best man at his wedding, says that Biggins was an unlikely bank robber: "I would have imagined him being a kindergarten teacher long before being a bank robber... He was just a real, sweet, kind fellow and he wasn't real adventurous. He wasn't a risk-taker."
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So now, when Scurlock said he needed help, Biggins apparently felt obligated. And it seemed like an easy way to make money. Certainly it was easy in the movies. In 1991, another movie, "Point Break" with Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves, told the story of surfers who rob banks, in large part for the thrill of it. Scurlock watched the movie repeatedly. Rule thinks the film inspired him.
On June 25 1992, Scurlock and Biggins robbed their first bank. As the robbers did in "Point Break," they wore masks. Unlike in the movie, things went terribly wrong. They had planned to steal a car from someone in the bank. But Biggins was so nervous, he flooded the engine, and it wouldn’t start. They got out of the car, ran down an alley, where some vicious dogs almost hopped a fence after them. The pair eventually ran across a golf course and got away.
The experience so terrified Biggins that he packed up and left. But Scurlock, who had always thrived on risk, started rbbing banks on his own.
Steve Meyers says his friend had been studying FBI forensics, as well as other bank robberies across the country. Scurlock approached Steve Meyers for help. Meyers refused.
But finally, feeling indebted, he agreed to help launder the money, which he did on gambling trips to Las Vegas: A lot of trips. In 1992, Scurlock hit six banks, perfecting his skills along the way.
His sixth robbery netted over $250,000. It wa sthen that FBI agent Shawn Johnson realized that this bank robber knew what he was doing. Johnson says his prey left very few clues. For the next three years, Johnson would chase the man who came to be known as "Hollywood."
And Seattle in the 90's was an ideal place to rob banks. Bank branches multiplied a decade ago, says Seattle detective Mike Magan, to service the high-tech gold rush, and its new millionaires. "They’re as common as coffee carts here, espresso stands," he says. Scurlock was taking more money than any robber Magan had chased.
Johnson became fascinated with his quarry, from his clever disguises – which included pancake makeup, false wigs, even false chins - to his athleticism during the robberies. Scurlock jumped over counters at some of the banks.
Scurlock became more brazen over time. "As his career progressed, he was in the bank somewhere from three to four minutes. The average bank robber would probably be in there less than a minute," says Johnson.
Scurlock may have felt comfortable taking his time, because he was being helped by Steven Meyers, who stayed in the car outside the bank with a radio and a police scanner. If he heard that someone had called 911, he would radio Scurlock in the bank.
They planned carefully. They often hit during shift changes, or when patrol cars were dispersed. They always used more than one getaway car. They took pains to buy these cars anonymously. Magan thought that the robber might even be a police officer. "They had nothing on us forensically—zero," says Steve Meyers. "He (Scurlock) worked hard at that."
Says Meyers: "(We) paid a lot of people, so that nothing would ever be traced back to him - either cars that we intentionally left for the FBI, people to work in banks to give us inside information times. The FBI called them "promit" tags - and these are the electronic tracers they put on the money. We knew some of the banks in Seattle (had)tracers. The banks that didn't carry tracers were the ones we robbed."
Occasionally, they robbed larger banks. To help control these situations, Scurlock convinced Biggins to give it another try. Biggins served as "crowd control" inside the bank, says FBI agent Johnson.
Even now, Steve Meyers praises Scurlock's efficient approach: "Nobody ever was hurt, and nobody was ever intended to be hurt."
"Most people working in banks realize this guy's not afraid. And that is more frightening and commanding without having to be crazy." Even without the robbers shooting, some ank employees were terrified. One, Susan Bartlett, quit after the robberies, and sought therapy.
By the end of 1995, Scurlock had stolen almost $1 million. By then, Johnson had discerned a pattern. The frequency of the robberies seemed to be determined by how much money he got. Johnson calculated that the robber needed $20,000 a month. According to his calculations, Hollywood would run out of money around January 25, 1996. Johnson was right about the day, but he picked the wrong bank – Scurlock robbed a bank about two miles from the bank where Johnson was staked out.
By the middle of that year, Scurlock had robbed two more banks, taking $250,000. He had robbed 17 banks in four years.
Magan became obsessed, climbing on bank rooftops late at night in search of some clue he’d missed. Johnson put a $50,000 reward out for the robber’s capture.
For Scurlock and his friends, the attention only upped the ante. This was a point in time in which it became personal,” Steven Meyers says. They began planning to rob five banks in one two-hour period. They planned to jam police frequencies in the city. They scaled back this plan, Meyers says, after learning that the cops had persuaded every bank in Seattle to put electronic tracers in with the money. The robbers focused then on one bank.
Meyers says they planned for this to be the last job. They had been told that there would be between $3 and $4 million there during the robbery. They decided to chance the tracers.
"The adrenaline rush, the excitement, the control - elements I think maybe - were more important than - than the money," says Johnson.
"It was either we’re gonna live through it, or we... die," says Meyers.
Behind the bravado, Scurlock was feeling the stress. He was drinking heavily. Friends not involved in the robberies, like former pal Kevin Meyers, were told to stay away. His sister, Suzanne Scurlock, recalls an odd exchange he had with his young niece.
"She looks at me and says, 'Uncle Scott's only gonna live 'til he's 42.' And I said, 'What?' She said, 'Yeah, he just told me that.' So I marched her back in the living room. He was still in the living room, doing something, reading a magazine or something. And I said, 'Uncle Scott, what are you telling her?' And he hemmed and hawed, and left the room."
What happens next? Find out:
© MMI, CBS Worldwide Inc. All Rights Reserved
