Valley Cocaine Ring Undone by Arrogance : Crime: The Monkey Boys’ corporate-style operation reached into Europe and Japan, authorities believe.

Until recently, Billy Mikus, Carlos Rivera and their loose cadre of twentysomething yuppies were fast-living kingpins of a San Fernando Valley-based drug-dealing empire that authorities allege stretched as far away as Europe and Japan.

Police dubbed them the Monkey Boys, because they mimicked each other’s hedonistic, free-spending ways.

They made so many millions from the sale of cocaine and marijuana, according to authorities and court documents, that trips overseas to launder profits became routine. So did the “corporate” retreats at the world’s finest resorts, the parties and nights out living the high life followed by days of golf and poolside leisure.

Members of the ring sped around Los Angeles in customized sports convertibles with car phones, in the company of beautiful women, and, police said, with pockets stuffed with more cash than they knew how to squander. Lured one by one from respectable jobs into intoxicating and lucrative lives of crime, some were known to drop $50,000 in a Las Vegas weekend.

But all that has vanished, almost as quickly as it came.

In the end, authorities said, they were tripped up by their own greed and arrogance--that and the determination of a handful of Glendale police officers who, after years of watching the Monkey Boys live like moguls, began taking their excesses personally.

Dozens of group members have been arrested and convicted. Mikus, Rivera and six others suspected of being their top aides were arrested recently and their cars and homes have been seized by authorities. And local police, Japanese authorities and even Scotland Yard are quickly catching up with the rest.

“It’s a great life until you get caught,” Glendale Officer Louie Haloulakos said recently, as he surveyed the drugs and sports cars seized in the most recent raid. “Then it all goes to hell.”

While it lasted, the Monkey Boys had it all.

“It was a 24-hour party,” said one former group member turned government informant. “Golf, tanning salons, trips to Hawaii. A seven-year vacation.”

The Monkey Boys--also known as the Valley Boys--drew the attention of two police officers, Haloulakos and Tom Lorenz, who steadily climbed the organization’s corporate ladder, arresting foot soldiers first, then drug retailers and wholesalers.

And in recent months, authorities said, they finally closed in on the masterminds: Mikus, a blond rock-star wanna-be whose genius lay in distributing cocaine, and Rivera, a hulking former college football star who made a fortune supplying it.

Mikus, 29, and four men accused of acting as his top associates are in jail awaiting trial. Last Wednesday, Rivera and two of his top men unexpectedly agreed to a plea bargain in which they will be sentenced to at least six years in prison each and lose their fancy cars in exchange for some charges being dropped.

According to Mikus’ lawyer, David Elden, police “have these delusions of grandeur” about his client’s alleged status as a drug kingpin and the evidence against him.

But in the last two years, more than 30 Monkey Boys have been convicted or charged with crimes that could bring long terms in state prison, authorities said.

“They thought they were invincible, that the police they were dealing with were Keystone Kops and that we weren’t capable of rising to their level of play,” said Glendale Police Lt. Don MacNeil, who oversaw the investigation. “But that was a major tactical error.”

When Mikus was arrested in March, Glendale police seized more than four pounds of cocaine after home searches in Reseda, Woodland Hills, Westwood, Malibu and Newport Beach, court records show.

Using information gained from those arrests, police in August busted Rivera, top associates David Thomas Lara and Richard Inouye, all 28. Police seized 31 pounds of cocaine worth more than $1 million and five pounds of marijuana from a Studio City apartment.

Mikus and those arrested with him have all pleaded not guilty. All declined comment through their lawyers. At a recent court hearing, Mikus, Brian Pump, Garret Greenwood, Gregory DelPapa and Craig Rickard appeared before a judge, shackled together at the wrists in their County Jail blues. Defense lawyer Kenneth Kahn described them as being in a state of limbo.

“They would like to know what is going on,” Kahn said, “and to resolve this matter as quickly as possible.”

Prosecutors, pointing to the scope of the group’s activities and the criminal backgrounds of Mikus and some of his associates, say there will be no deals.

“These are not disadvantaged individuals who were born into a life where they were exposed to narcotics and it’s all they know how to do,” said Deputy Dist. Atty. Susan Bryant-Deason. “They’re in this by choice. These are individuals who had the world available to them, and they chose this.”

Rivera, a shadowy figure known only as “Big Carlos” until recently, is a 6-foot-5, 250-pound former all-conference Cal State Northridge offensive lineman.

He liked to take friends out in his white Lincoln stretch limousine, and was fond of his black Porsche 911 Slantnose cabriolet, top-of-the-line BMW coupe and new Nissan Pathfinder. He lived in a $325,000 Canyon Country house with his wife and two young children.

When his longtime friend Lara got married, police say, Rivera bought him a Porsche 911 cabriolet too.

But Mikus, police say, exemplified the Monkey Boy lifestyle. And it was his arrogance and lack of discretion, they say, that helped them shut down the organization.

Tall and slim with long, blond hair in a ponytail, Mikus had the look that attracted beautiful women. “He was an animal,” one former Monkey Boy turned informant said in an interview with The Times. “Bars and parties every night.”

Among the things that caught their attention were his overseas trips, the $107,000 in cash he handed over for his sable-silver Mercedes convertible, sports cars and pickup trucks, and his $550,000 Westwood condominium, complete with music studio, authorities said.

Employees at the condo complex grew so resentful of Mikus’ arrogance that they helped police in their investigation and applauded when they heard of his arrest.

Earlier, police said, Mikus bought a West Hills house for half a million dollars and had the back yard landscaped to re-create the one belonging to Al Pacino’s drug-dealing character in “Scarface,” complete with elaborate fountains and waterfalls.

After Mikus’ arrest, police say, they confiscated more than $150,000 in cash and two handguns from the condo. Mikus told police he had $750,000 in cash at his disposal recently but spent it all. He bought a swank West Hollywood restaurant, police said, and rented a Malibu beach house. “It was,” said Lorenz, “a $10,000-a-month party pad.”

Mikus and Rivera weren’t the only Monkey Boys to spend lavishly. When one bought a Porsche, for instance, so would others. When one spent $1,400 for season tickets to Los Angeles Raiders football games, so too would his friends.

When they got into the business many years ago, authorities say, Mikus and his associates were high-school and college chums who dabbled in drugs. By 1986, Mikus had been convicted of conspiring to sell cocaine but escaped prison by cutting a deal with prosecutors to turn in his accomplices.

Authorities had no idea of the scope of the Monkey Boys operation or Mikus’ involvement when they arrested Todd Allen Goldberg, Carlos Marquez and Fred Inouye in a series of cocaine deals in late 1991. Lorenz, the Glendale police officer, posed as a buyer to trick Inouye into meeting him at a Woodland Hills 7-Eleven store to discuss buying 11 pounds of cocaine.

After each arrest, police followed up phone numbers in seized address books, names on scraps of paper and other tidbits of information. Haloulakos, Lorenz and the rest of the narcotics squad worked through the Christmas and New Year’s holidays, identifying whole branches of the operation and snaring more suspects.

Police quickly concluded that this group of young professionals was distributing hundreds of kilos of cocaine each month, with a direct pipeline to pure Colombian coke--and a seemingly endless supply of customers.

Glendale police suddenly found themselves crossing the path of U.S. Customs agents, who were investigating Mikus and his friends for alleged smuggling of drug money from Europe into the United States.

But as the scope of the investigation broadened through 1992, Mikus remained untouched and Rivera unidentified.

Along the way, police got several breaks. Pump was detained entering the United States after a return flight from Britain when authorities discovered a $30,000 hoard hidden on him.

Alerted, local authorities linked Pump and Mikus to wire transfers of cash from England through a concrete company they owned.

Authorities have alleged that the business was a money-laundering vehicle and that Mikus, Pump and associates were selling $14,000 kilos of cocaine overseas for more than $60,000 apiece--making an estimated $500,000 each trip.

But the big break came when Inouye and another associate agreed to help police.

“Both have supplied inside information on how Mikus operates, with whom he operates, his assets, and most importantly of all . . . Mikus’ pager number and his home telephone number,” according to court documents.

That allowed police last winter to pierce the wall of counter-surveillance that had protected Mikus and his top aides, who used an elaborate network of car phones, portable phones, pay phones and pagers to circumvent wiretaps and evade detection, authorities said.

Police began surreptitiously monitoring Mikus’ voice mail. They also became more adept at sidestepping what they describe as the sophisticated web of Monkey Boy accomplices who watched for police, monitoring police scanners and radios.

And when Mikus or other suspects would evade police who were following in cars, other investigators would follow by helicopter. Sometimes officers conducted surveillance for 12 hours at a stretch. The investigators sweltered in the Valley heat, watching as Mikus and his friends sometimes spent as much money in a weekend as they made in a year.

“Sometimes you’d wonder if crime really does pay,” Lorenz recalled. “They’ll do well, sometimes for as long as 10 years. But we know, and we always say to each other, that they can have all the fun, the nice cars, food, golfing and women, but that eventually, we’ll get them.”

Finally, in March, police set up a drug buy. Mikus and four others were arrested after they allegedly conspired to sell a pound of cocaine to an informant at a Canoga Park gas station.

The police then focused on Rivera, whom they believed to be Mikus’ elusive source. In raids beginning Aug. 3, Rivera, Lara, and three others were arrested.

One recent day, Haloulakos, Lorenz, MacNeil and the others who tracked the Monkey Boys--Sgt. Mario Marchman and Officers Jack Meier, Fran Judge, Steve Davey, Jerry Uebel and Kim Lawrence--all gathered in the Police Department parking lot to take a “trophy shot” of their quarry.

Prosecutors say they have a nearly airtight case, thanks to the work of the Glendale cops. MacNeil agrees. He says all the effort was worth it: “We’ve spent a lot of sleepless hours on this. But you feel you’re really doing society a service by getting these knuckleheads off the streets.”

The Monkey Boys

A San Fernando Valley-based drug ring known as the Monkey Boys made millions distributing hundreds of kilos of cocaine a month throughout Los Angeles, Europe and Japan, according to police, prosecutors and court records. In a two-year investigation, authorities seized 493 pounds of cocaine, $763,000 in cash, a Wilshire District condo, and 21 vehicles. Police say the following men and woman were named in the case:

William David Mikus, 29, Westwood. Alleged head of distribution. Arrested March 5. Later indicted by a L. A. County grand jury for conspiracy to sell, transport and possess cocaine for sale. Pleaded not guilty. In jail pending trial, with bail set at $1 million.

Gregory J. DelPapa, 28, Westwood. Reputed to be Mikus’ right-hand man, he allegedly acted as operations manager. Pleaded not guilty to same charges. In jail pending trial, with bail set at $1 million.

Craig S. Rickard, 28, Westwood. Another reputed Mikus lieutenant who was alleged to be an operations manager. Pleaded not guilty to same charges. In jail pending trial, with bail set at $1 million.

Garret Greenwood, 26, Silverlake. Allegedly responsible for delivery of cocaine and maintaining stash location. Pleaded not guilty to same charges. In jail pending trial, with bail set at $1 million.

Brian R. Pump, 28, Canoga Park. Allegedly responsible for delivering cocaine. Pleaded not guilty to same charges. In jail pending trial, with bail set at $1 million.

Carlos Edward Rivera, 28, of Canyon Country. Procurement chief. Arrested Aug. 4, pleaded guilty Sept. 28 to possession of cocaine for sale. Under the plea, Rivera will be sentenced to eight years in prison Oct. 27.

David Thomas (Crockett) Lara, 28, of Sherman Oaks. Close friend and reputed right-hand man of Rivera. Pleaded guilty Sept. 28 to possession of cocaine for sale. Under the plea, he will be sentenced to eight years in prison.

Richard Ryoichi Inouye, 28, of Simi Valley. Delivered cocaine. Pleaded guilty Sept. 28 to possession of cocaine for sale. Under the plea, he will be sentenced to six years in prison.

Tracy Lynnette Griffith, 22, of North Hollywood. Rivera associate who police say was his mistress. Pleaded guilty Sept. 28 to possession of cocaine for sale and got five years probation.

Source: Police and court records