Disappearing Act

The man in the mug shot has long hair, a stubbly beard.

On the evening of Sept. 21, police say, he drove past the Las Vegas home of entertainers Siegfried & Roy, yelled, “We need to get these ... out of our country,” then fired two shotgun blasts.

Minutes later, he allegedly returned and opened fire again, blowing a large hole in the front of the residence.

The man police say perpetrated these incidents, Cole Ford, who had dropped out of sight five years earlier, quickly went back into hiding. Authorities have yet to find him and say the 31-year-old should be considered armed and dangerous.

None of it makes sense to people who knew him before, when he was kicking field goals for USC and the Oakland Raiders. When he was clean-cut and upbeat, always friendly.

“A bright kid, a good-looking kid ... he had it all,” says Jeff Kearin, his special teams coach in college. “This is not the Cole Ford we all remember.”

The freshman who arrived at USC from Tucson in 1991 joked easily with teammates, did not stand to the side as kickers often do. He was big enough at 6 feet 2, 195 pounds to join in tackling drills and hustle down on coverage.

“Cole wasn’t afraid to get hit,” recalls Jason Oliver, a defensive back on that team. “We always thought that was pretty cool for a kicker.”

His right leg was a howitzer, booming one kickoff after another into the end zone. But over four seasons, 40% of his field-goal attempts sailed off-target and the misses sometimes rankled.

“A kicker can get lonely out there, especially if you missed a couple of field goals the last game,” Ford said before his senior season in 1994. “You’re more sensitive to what people think. You have the feeling that you let your teammates down.”

John Robinson, USC’s coach then, remained supportive: “He’s just got to learn to concentrate better.”

So the rookie who showed up to kick for the Raiders just before the 1995 season faced a challenge.

Ford had been drafted by the Pittsburgh Steelers and released near the end of camp. The Raiders needed emergency help, their regular kicker having suffered a knee injury in the final exhibition game.

Given a shot at the big time, Ford nailed a 46-yard field goal in the season opener and made eight of his first nine tries. That was enough to keep him around, and the following season, he won the starting job.

Never lacking for confidence, he talked about staying in the league for a decade.

“He felt pressure and all those things, but he felt he was good,” Kearin says.

Still, there was a sense of how tough it can be for kickers. In the off-season, Ford worked the graveyard shift at the Squaw Valley ski resort, navigating big snow cats in darkness. The pay was $9 an hour, not much for a guy who was making almost $200,000 by his third season.

“I realize how lucky I am to have the gifts I’ve been given and I also know how fast they can be taken away,” he told Ski magazine in 1997. “That’s why it’s so important to keep your feet on solid ground, to be humble and enjoy whatever you do.”

The kicker who had performed so well as a rookie never had it so good again.

In 1996, against Tampa Bay, a last-second miss from 28 yards cost the Raiders a playoff spot. In 1997, Ford made barely 60% of his attempts.

The Raiders cut him the next season and, after a brief stint with the Buffalo Bills, he was out of the NFL. It was also about that time that Ford stopped talking to family and friends.

As best as people can guess, he ended up in Las Vegas, working day jobs, living in cheap motels.

He resurfaced last January, walking into the Monte Carlo Resort & Casino, scribbling notes on paper. Some of the guests grew frightened and security guards quickly escorted him outside.

Ford then filed a $5-million lawsuit against the casino, saying he should be paid for every wager the Monte Carlo’s sports book had ever accepted on college and pro games in which he played.

The plaintiff who showed up to make this argument in district court “seemed to be, I guess, out of it,” says Troy E. Peyton, the casino’s attorney.

Ford was unkempt, dressed in casual clothes. His three-page complaint -- he wrote it himself and paid the $133 filing fee -- was filled with grammatical errors. “The fact of the matter is, I’ve been trespassed on from the start of 1991 to 1998,” it stated. “I consider me private property.”

Though his suit had no basis in law and was dismissed, Peyton remarks, “It was a novel thought ... a creative theory that he had.”

Ford claimed that casinos, by taking sports wagers, were making money from the sweat and blood of athletes. He believed athletes deserved some of the profits.

His dazed appearance notwithstanding, he was courteous in court and responded to the judge’s questions.

“He was not at all aggressive,” Peyton says. “Not the guy you think is going to go off shooting.”

Not until that September night, when he allegedly drove his white minivan to the home of Siegfried Fischbacher and Roy Horn.

Now there is a Ford family website, cole-ford.com, that shows a smiling young man with trimmed hair and necktie. There is another picture of him kicking in the pros, head down, arms askew, that right leg in midswing.

“After Cole’s release from the Oakland Raiders Football team, he became more and more reclusive and started showing signs of schizophrenic behavior,” reads a note signed by his family.

There are reminiscences of his youth, trips to the snow and horseback rides, his achievements as a star high school player.

The note concludes: “We feel very fortunate that no one has been hurt and believe Cole has taken these actions as a cry for help. We are hoping Cole will be taken into custody without confrontation and given the care he needs. We feel that with proper help, he can once again be a positive member of society.”