Hollywood & Crime - The Cotton Club Murder | Friday the 13th | 5

Episode Date: December 30, 2024

On the night of May 13th, 1983, Roy Radin makes plans for a dinner meeting with Lanie Jacobs, only to be ambushed in the back of a limousine. The chilling details of how Radin was murdered are finally revealed, as detectives get a prime suspect to confess to the grisly plot. But as investigators close in, a shocking new development threatens to upend the entire case. Meanwhile, Lanie Jacobs abruptly relocates to Florida. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge all episodes of Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder, early and ad-free. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. It's Friday the 13th, May 1983. Around 10.30 a.m. Roy Radin stood in the kitchen of his hotel suite, staring into the refrigerator. He had no interest in food. His stomach was in knots thinking about tonight's dinner with Lainey. Jonathan sat at the breakfast counter, sipping some strong coffee.

Neither one of them had slept well. Roy remembered the sun coming up just as he finally dozed off. Jonathan started to speak, then stopped abruptly. Roy told him to just spit it out. Jonathan doubled down on why Roy shouldn't go to dinner with Laney. He was convinced that something sinister would happen, but Roy cut him off. He'd been doing some thinking and had come up with a plan to ensure he'd be safe. It involved Demond Wilson. Demond is going to come here before dinner. I'll make sure he brings his gun. At the word gun, Jonathan buried his face in his hands. Roy ignored him. Instead, he emptied some cocaine from a baggie onto the counter. He took a long sniff,

He took a long sniff, then laid out the details of his plan. Right before Laney's arrival, Demond would go wait in his car so she wouldn't spot him. He would follow Roy and Laney to La Scala and just happened to bump into them. Then, after dinner, Roy would leave with Demond. The gun was insurance in case something went haywire. I wish you were joking, Jonathan told Roy. Demond is no bodyguard. But Roy said he didn't have to be.

He just needed to follow them to the restaurant, which was only a few miles away. He paused to inhale some more Coke. Roy thought he had a solid plan. But by noon, he wasn't so sure. Full-blown panic began to take over. Roy paced back and forth, gulping down glasses of water, though he spilled most of it on the floor. Jonathan warned him he'd already used almost a gram of cocaine, and he'd barely been up for two hours. Roy brushed off Jonathan's warning. Instead, he ranted about Laney and Evans and how they had schemed against him.

Barely two weeks ago, he had been on the verge of signing a $35 million deal to produce The Cotton Club. Then Laney had shown up at Evans' place in New York. She'd blown everything up and tried to play him with her crocodile tears. Tonight, they'd meet face to face for the first time since that fiasco. He'd show her who was in control. Roy finally collapsed in a chair and ordered Jonathan to bring him the phone. He had business calls to make.

Jonathan reluctantly handed him the receiver, saying he was in no shape to discuss anything. Around 4 p.m., DeMond Wilson arrived to go over the plan. Over more hits of cocaine, Roy laid out the details to DeMond, who listened intently. He was all in. As a final note, Roy told him to make sure he'd had his gun, just in case. DeMond said that would be no problem. He never went anywhere without it. Roy's panic had once again given way to bravado. Flush with confidence, he told DeMond about the call with Evans and the $2 million buyout offer. This deal is going to make me the king.

You watch. I'm going to be the president of Paramount Pictures. Demond just laughed and said Roy was dreaming. That was like trying to knock over a building. But Roy insisted it would happen. He caught Jonathan glaring at him. You're too stubborn for your own good, Jonathan told him bluntly. But it was more than stubbornness. Roy knew he had to be fearless.

His old man, Broadway Al, would never have backed down in a situation like this. Just like Roy's idols in those old black and white movies, tough guys like Cagney or Bogart, that was Roy. But he was no movie hero. In real life, Roy was about to meet a tragic ending. By late that Friday night, he would be a dead man. Each morning, it's a new opportunity. A chance to start fresh. Up First from NPR makes each morning an opportunity to learn and to understand.

Choose to join the world every morning with Up First, a podcast that hands you everything going on across the globe and down the street, all in 15 minutes or less. Start your day informed and anew with Up First by subscribing wherever you get your podcasts. They say Hollywood is where dreams are made. A seductive city where many flock to get rich, be adored, and capture America's heart. But when the spotlight turns off, fame, fortune, and lives can disappear in an instant. Follow Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Tracy Patton,

along with my co-host, Josh Lucas. And this is Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder. In our last episode, Detective Stoner and Avila's investigation took a big turn when Bill Ryder agreed to go undercover. It led to a recording of Bob Lowe admitting that he drove the limo on the night of Roy Radin's death. Now the key was getting Bill Menser

to reveal what really happened that fateful night. This is Episode 5, Friday the 13th. July 7th, 1988, 7.30pm, Los Angeles. Bill Stoner is busy setting up a portable recording unit in a room at the Holiday Inn off the 405 freeway. In an identical room next door, his partner, Detective Carlos Avila, is hiding a small microphone in the base of a nightstand.

Stoner knows they're gearing up for a long night. But if it all goes according to plan, it will be worth it. Tonight, they'll finally hear from Bill Menser, the hitman who was hired to kill Roy Radin. Once the mic is in place, Stoner powers up the machine and slips on a pair of headphones. He can clearly hear the sound of the Angels game playing on the television next door. The equipment is working. Now Stoner just hopes his informant can do his part. That informant, Bill Ryder, has already proved himself capable in high-pressure situations. A few weeks ago, he got Bob Lowe on tape bragging about driving Roy to the murder scene the night he was killed.

Then Ryder got Menser to agree to this meetup tonight. Ryder's done a lot already, but if they're going to see this investigation all the way to the end, they need him to do more. Tonight, he's got to get Menser, not just to say that he killed Roy Radin. He needs to admit that he organized the plot. Stoner is also hoping that Menser will confirm who ordered the hit. And Ryder needs to do all this without making Menser the least bit suspicious. Stoner hears two quick raps on the hotel door. That should be Ryder.

As he opens the door, Ryder steals glances to the left and right before slipping into the room. Stoner knows this is a tense situation. They're asking Ryder to sit in a room with a murderer and lie to his face. It was one thing to meet with Bob Lowe at a sports bar, but Menser was the leader of the operation. Any hint that things aren't on the level,

and Menser won't hesitate to use violence. But Stoner doesn't want to remind Ryder of that right now. Instead, Stoner reminds him that two cops are right next door. They're ready to charge in the minute anything goes south. Ryder just needs to stay focused, and they'll all get through this together. Then he hands Ryder a hotel room key and pulls the headphones back over his ears. For a few minutes, the only sound Stoner can hear next door are the baseball game on TV and the low hum of the air conditioner.

When the phone rings, Ryder picks up and says a quick hello. Stoner pushes the headphones to his ears, straining to pick up anything. Ryder is silent for a moment. Then he says, Great, see you in a bit. And hangs up the phone. Stoner taps Avila on the shoulder and gives him a thumbs up. The meeting is on.

Half an hour later, Stoner hears a loud knock next door. That has to be Menser. He can hear the door open, then a muffled greeting as Menser steps into the room. Stoner hears the door slam shut, then he turns and gives a nod to Avila. Avila hits the record button on the machine and the tape starts rolling. It's showtime. Bill Ryder is shaking on the inside, but he gives Menser his best imitation of a friendly, long-time no-see. He knows the cops are listening in,

and stoners said they would spring into action if necessary. But experience has taught Ryder that undercover operations can turn bad in the blink of an eye. Ryder knows he can't afford a slip-up if he wants to stay alive. He tries to keep his hands steady as he cracks open a couple of beers. Then he gives one to Menser.

Menser sits on the edge of the hotel bed. He's all smiles. Ryder hasn't seen him in a few years, but they parted on friendly terms. So it was pretty easy to reach out and say he'd be in L.A. Why not catch up over beers? Menser was game. Still, Ryder doesn't want to take any chances, so he starts slow. He breaks the ice by complaining about his brother-in-law,

Hustler magazine publisher Larry Flint. Pretty soon he and Menser are swapping stories about their time working security for Flint. Ryder switches topics and asks about Alex Marty. Marty is part of Menser's goon squad and someone who was involved in Radin's murder. Menser says that Marty is a big-time dope dealer now. In fact, Marty had tried to hire him to kill some Iranian drug dealer, but Menser ended up not doing the job. Once they've eased into conversation, Ryder edges towards the hot topic, Roy Radin. He asks if Menser remembers a job he told Ryder about back in 1983. It happened a little north of LA, but Mentzer has no idea what he's talking about. Come on, you remember the job. The fat guy from Jersey. Mentzer

takes a swig of his lager, but he freezes mid swallow when he figures out what Ryder is talking about. He puts the bottle down and gives Ryder a strange look. Ryder starts sweating. He wonders if he pushed too far and too soon. Every muscle in his body is tense as he waits for Menser's response. But Menser doesn't say a word. He just stands up and starts walking closer. Ryder is convinced that his cover is blown. He's racking his brain for his next move when Menser brushes by him and turns the television volume up. Then he winks. Never can be too careful. Menser motions around the room like he thinks someone might be listening in. Ryder doesn't say anything.

Menser shakes his head and laughs. I'll tell you one thing about that job. It was a wild night. Bill Ryder's heart practically jumps out of his chest. He prays the tape is rolling next door because it sounds like Menser is about to spill his guts. Menser leans back on his elbow on the hotel bed. The problem is, he tends to ramble. Luckily, as an ex-cop, Ryder knows a few tricks

to bring Menser back to the topic at hand. First, he takes a dig at Menser's pride. He says that Menser wouldn't believe what Alex Marty said. Ryder tries to sound casual. Marty, he confides, once told him that Menser had to get drunk before he could work up the guts to pull the trigger that night. Menser's brows shoot up in disbelief. Are you kidding? Alex Marty?

Alex was scared shitless of me, and he fucking better be. Ryder laughs, agreeing that between the two of them, Menser is definitely the brave one. Menser gets worked up and curses Alex Marty's name. Now, you know what? You know Alex is full of shit. I'm the one who set the whole goddamn thing up. Ryder's heart is racing. Menser just confessed to planning the murder on tape. Now he just needs to keep Menser talking. Who was the job for anyway? Ryder asks while

sipping his beer. Menser says it was for a girl he was dating, a blonde. Ryder tries to keep his voice even. He asks why she wanted him dead so bad. Menser explains it was because of the movie The Cotton Club. She and this big Hollywood producer named Bob Evans were going to make the movie together, but they had to get this guy out of the way first. Menser says that's not all. The job got even weirder than that. When they got to the hotel, they found somebody else staking out the scene. Menser says that's not all. The job got even weirder than that.

When they got to the hotel, they found somebody else staking out the scene. A famous celebrity. Menser seems to pause for dramatic effect. So Ryder finally asks him who the celebrity was. You're not going to believe this. It was that actor, Daman Wilson, from Sanford and Son. Menser says he and Alex pulled up and parked right behind him, and Wilson never had a clue that he'd been spotted. May 13th, 1983.

Roy's eyes fluttered open, his mind hazy. He blinked and saw his bedroom shrouded in a murky twilight. He picked up his watch, 7.30 p.m. Then he remembered. Jonathan had insisted he lay down and rest for a couple of hours. Roy could hardly argue. His body had felt weighed down with exhaustion. A soft knock on the door drew his attention.

Jonathan poked his head into the room. Demond's back. Roy pushed himself up as Demond walked in. He sat down on the bed and took out a vial of Coke, just what the doctor ordered, Roy thought. He inhaled the white powder and everything snapped into focus. Roy locked eyes with Demond. Just make sure that you wait outside until we leave. That'll be your cue to follow us. DeMond said he understood, but then asked if Roy was sure they were doing the right thing. Shouldn't they call the cops or someone else for help? Roy shook his head. DeMond wiped some coke off his nose, then sniffed.

He asked what kind of car Roy would be leaving in. Roy still wasn't sure. Maybe a Mercedes or a limo. A few minutes later, Roy picked up the phone to call Ana Montenegro. She had stormed out in tears the day before, angry that Roy wouldn't cancel plans to see Lainey. Roy was apologetic and promised to meet her at Spartacus nightclub as soon as dinner was over. She agreed, but her voice sounded small and scared. At around 8.15 p.m., Roy started getting dressed. He had less than an hour before Lainey was due to arrive at his hotel room. Roy knotted a dark Pierre Cardin tie around his neck, then slid on a pair of leather Gucci loafers.

He stood up to check himself in the mirror. His dark three-piece suit was a perfect fit. He fastened on his gold Rolex watch. Then he snorted a final line of Coke off the nightstand. Roy strolled into the living room. Demond was sitting on the couch with his secretary, Amelia, who was set to be his dinner date. Roy told DeMond it was time. Then he pulled a thick wad of cash from his wallet and handed the money to him.

For dinner, he said. I'll see you soon. DeMond pocketed the money. Then he and Amelia both slipped out the door to take their position in his Mercedes. Roy poured two fingers of scotch into a glass and drained it. There was nothing else left to do but wait. He was ready for a showdown. for a showdown.

I'm Jake Warren, and in our first season of Finding, I set out on a very personal quest to find the woman who saved my mum's life. You can listen to Finding Natasha right now exclusively on Wondery+. In season two, I found myself caught up in a new journey to help someone I've never

even met. But a couple of years ago, I came across a social media post by a person named Loti. It read in part, three years ago today that I attempted to jump off this bridge, but this wasn't my time to go. A gentleman named Andy saved my life. I still haven't found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me and found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me. And it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues around mental health. This is season two of Finding. And this time, if all goes to plan, we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad free on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus

in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. They say Hollywood is where dreams are made, a seductive city where many flock to get rich, be adored, and capture America's heart. But when the spotlight turns off, fame, fortune, and lives can disappear in an instant. When TV producer Roy Radin was found dead in a canyon near L.A. in 1983, there were many questions surrounding his death. The last person seen with him was Lainey Jacobs, a seductive cocaine dealer who desperately wanted to be part of the Hollywood elite. Together, they were trying to break into the movie industry. But things took a dark turn when a million dollars worth of cocaine and cash went missing. From Wondery comes a new season of the hit show Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder.

Follow Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge all episodes of The Cotton Club Murder early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. It was a few minutes after 9 p.m. when Lainey pulled up to Roy's hotel in a black limousine. The chauffeur opened the car door and Lainey stepped out. Her form-fitting gold cocktail dress and crystal earrings sparkled with every move. Strappy high-heeled sandals accentuated her long legs. Heads were turning as she walked through the lobby. long legs. Heads were turning as she walked through the lobby. Parked just a few feet away at the curb were DeMond Wilson and his secretary Amelia. As Amelia later described, you could spot the dress for miles. It was just shiny glitter. Laney informed the desk clerk to notify Roy Radin

of her arrival. Then she made her way to his hotel room, knocking firmly on the door. Jonathan opened up and said it was lovely to see her, not attempting to hide his sarcasm. She pushed past him into the living room. Roy stood up from the couch, his face betraying no sign of the heated argument they'd had in New York. Ly met his eyes and flashed him a wide smile. He told her they had a reservation for La Scala at 9.30. Laney nodded and said it sounded perfect. Jonathan emerged from the kitchen with a tray of cauliflower and carrots, not exactly Roy's standard fare.

Laney couldn't resist a playful jab. Are you putting Roy on a diet? Jonathan just muttered something about getting rid of unhealthy things around here. His comment hung in the air until Laney broached the unspoken topic, their production deal for the Cotton Club. She told Roy she'd changed her mind. She didn't need half of Roy's share. She only wanted what was fair. A finder's fee would changed her mind. She didn't need half of Roy's share. She only wanted what was fair.

A finder's fee would suit her fine. She just wanted to put all this behind them. Roy visibly relaxed at her concession. He said if the deal came through, she'd get her fee. He'd guarantee it. Lainey turned to Jonathan and fished a set of car keys from her purse. She asked if he could run a quick errand for her. There were a few grams of coke in the glove box of her Porsche parked in Beverly Hills. She and Roy could have it after dinner. Jonathan immediately shook his head in refusal. He said there was no way he was bringing more cocaine to the apartment.

Laney didn't hide her irritation. Come on, Roy. It's primo stuff. Doesn't he work for you? Make him go get it. Roy and Jonathan exchanged a few hushed words. Then Roy stood up and told her that Jonathan didn't work for him, he worked with him. Big difference. Jonathan was staying put. But Lainey wouldn't let it go. She said she didn't understand why Jonathan was being so mean to her. Finally, Roy reminded her they needed to get going, and Lainey gave up the argument. She turned and made her way toward the door.

Roy followed, swinging it shut behind them. Their night was finally starting. DeMond Wilson drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel of his Mercedes. Then he tapped his feet on the pedals. He looked over at Amelia, who sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. She looked so calm. Meanwhile, DeMond was going crazy just sitting here. The coke had made him antsy. He had to move. They had already made a run to the convenience store for cigarettes

and come back to the Regency, but still no action. He'd seen a woman in a glittery evening dress arriving just after nine. She had to be the one meeting Roy. Then Daman and Amelia waited some more. Just when he felt like he couldn't take it anymore, he spotted Roy walking from the hotel lobby with the woman by his side. Daman checked his watch.

It was 9.20 p.m. Roy and the woman made their way to a black limousine that had just pulled up. A chauffeur in a light-colored uniform and hat stepped out and opened the door for them. The two slid into the back seat, and the chauffeur shut the door behind them. DeMond watched the vehicle drive out from the hotel's circular driveway as he cranked his ignition. He put his Mercedes in gear and shot forward. He got a little too close to the car in front of him. Then he jammed the car in reverse and backed up.

He was really hemmed in. He had to take another pass. In the few seconds it took Dumont to readjust, a black Cadillac pulled out from behind him. The Caddy got between him and the limousine. No big deal, Dumont told himself. He didn't want to be too obvious anyway. He maneuvered onto Sunset, discreetly following about four or five car lengths behind Roy. It was Friday night and traffic was thick. DeMond's Mercedes crawled along the Sunset Strip towards La Cienega Boulevard.

Up ahead, a stoplight turned yellow. He saw the limo pass through the intersection. The black Caddy that was right behind it gunned its engine and sailed through as well. But DeMond found himself stuck at the red light. DeMond watched the limo accelerate around the bend and melt into the westbound traffic. Amelia shot him a worried look and asked what they should do now. But he told her not to worry. Roy could handle himself for a few minutes.

The limo seemed to be heading straight to the restaurant. They would see Roy and the woman in the shiny dress at La Scala. As the limo inched through West Hollywood, Roy found a bottle of champagne in the console and popped the cork. He filled a glass for himself and one for Lainey. He handed her a champagne flute, then tried to glance out the rear window for Demond. But his brown Mercedes was nowhere to be seen. Roy had barely taken a sip of champagne when the car swerved sharply onto a quiet side street. Before he could ask the driver why, a black sedan appeared right behind them.

Then the limo screeched to a halt. Roy wondered what the hell was going on. He looked over to Lainey for an explanation, but she just stared straight ahead. Roy's pulse quickened. Suddenly, the door to the limo swung open. Two men jumped inside. They both had guns. He knew by instinct this was no game.

Roy stammered, demanding to know what was going on. They were yelling at him to shut up. Then Laney bolted out of the limo. Roy tried to shout something, but the words got stuck in his throat. He turned his eyes back to the two armed men sitting across from him. Neither one looked familiar. They were both muscular. One was taller with a thick mustache. The other was short and stocky. Roy kept looking out the back window. He was hoping against hope that Daman's car would come flying around the corner any second The limo pulled away from the curb

The taller guy with the mustache noticed him turning his head Looking for your actor buddy? Pretty sure we lost him at the first light He and his sidekick both cackled with laughter Roy's heart sank into his stomach. His mouth began moving a mile a minute as he talked to the men in front of him. Did they want money? His watch? His jewelry? Surely they wanted something from him. But neither man spoke. They just glared at him as the limo cruised down Sunset Boulevard. Just as fast as Roy had panicked, a sliver of hope surged.

Roy could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising as police sirens wailed behind them. A cop car burst around the corner, heading straight for the limo, lights flashing. Maybe Demond had called the cops, or maybe Jonathan had. The two men across from him whispered heatedly to each other. Roy could see the fear in their eyes. The taller one leaned forward and shoved the barrel of his gun hard into Roy's mouth. His lips split open, and he could taste blood.

With Roy bent over in pain, the stocky man slammed his pistol directly into Roy's groin. Roy looked up. The taller man was staring him dead in the eye. You say a word and you're going to lose everything, pal. Roy didn't move a muscle. He just listened as the sirens grew louder and louder. The cops were closing in fast. This would be over soon, Roy told himself. Now the cops were right behind them. Then, to Roy's horror, the police car sped right past them. He watched in disbelief as it drove off until the red and blue lights disappeared into the sea

of Friday night traffic. And then Roy knew he was truly and completely on his own. He was truly and completely on his own. Jonathan Lawson couldn't seem to relax. He checked the time. It was almost 11 p.m. He turned off the TV and nervously eyed the phone. He needed to call a scala. Roy should be just about done with dinner by now.

Jonathan wanted to make sure everything had gone according to plan. After a few rings, the maitre d' answered. Jonathan could hear clinking glasses and the buzz of conversation in the background. I'm checking to see if Mr. Radin made his reservation on time. The maitre d' asked him to hold. Jonathan fidgeted with the phone cord as he waited. After a couple of minutes, he heard a rustling sound as someone picked up the phone. The maitre d' said he had checked the reservation book, but the Radin party never showed up.

Jonathan's stomach dropped. Why didn't Roy make it to the restaurant? He left almost two hours ago. He took a deep breath, then asked if DeMond Wilson was there. The maitre d' said that Wilson had paid his bill and left about 10 minutes ago. Jonathan hung up the phone in a daze. He couldn't understand why DeMond hadn't called to let him know that Roy had never arrived. Maybe Roy and Laney had made peace and were partying somewhere. Or maybe Roy blew off the dinner to meet up with Ana Montenegro. There were a lot of maybes that didn't make any sense. Jonathan had to do something.

He called Laney's service and left several messages. Then he got a hold of Anna, but she hadn't heard from him either. He could sense the rising panic in her voice. Jonathan tried to keep his thoughts under control. He pictured Roy striding back into the hotel any minute now. Roy, the man who could charm his way into any deal, the man who thrived on defying expectations. But a sense of dread settled over him. Somewhere between the hotel and the restaurant,

Roy had disappeared. Thank you. is now gone. We've exposed the DEI regime, and there's much more to come. This is The Harvard Plan, a special series from the Boston Globe and WNYC's On the Media. To listen, subscribe to On the Media wherever you get your podcasts. It might have been 10 p.m. or 11. Time seemed to have stopped. Roy stared out the window of the limousine while his two burly captors kept their guns trained on him. The men demanded to know where Talley was, where the coke and money had disappeared to. Roy pleaded. He said he didn't know, but they wouldn't let up. The limo was far from the hustle and bustle of the Sunset Strip by now.

The weekend traffic was thinning out as they flew north on the winding Interstate 5. A green highway sign read, Gorman, 40 miles. They passed a few all-night gas stations and eventually eased right towards the Gorman exit. After the turn, the limo passed a Carl's Jr., its sign casting an eerie glow in the night. Soon, there was no other car on the road. Darkness surrounded them, except for the headlights pinned to the lonely blacktop. The limo pulled off the highway and turned down a dirt road. Dust and pebbles sprayed the hood of the long black car. And after a few minutes, it came to a sudden stop.

Dust fanned out in front of the headlights. The leather seat creaked as the men shifted away from Roy and opened the doors. Roy struggled while they pulled him out of the car. The chauffeur watched, tight-lipped, as the two men dragged Roy away. They were half pushing him, half pulling him past the moonlit face of a small canyon. Somewhere far off, Roy heard a coyote howling. He blinked, trying to register what

was happening. Like some movie scene he couldn't have imagined. He heard his Gucci loafers dragging in the sand and gravel every time he tried to blant his feet. He kept pleading with the men, but it didn't do any good. They threw him to the ground. He raised his hands. Please don't do this. I'll pay you anything you want. Please don't do this. For a moment, it seemed like they might even consider his offer.

But then they just laughed. The stockier one raised his gun, and Roy knew he was out of time. Run for it, he told himself. He took off sprinting into the desert. A shoe slipped off his foot, and he stumbled to the ground. His face scraped across the desert sand as he slid to a stop.

He tried to scramble up, but one of the men kicked him, and he fell flat on his stomach. Roy tried to scream, but the kick had knocked the breath out of him. On the highway, a truck roared by. It might as well have been a million miles away. Roy rolled on his back, raised his hand, palm up, so that it just grazed the cold

barrel of the gun. The two men stood over him and looked at each other. The stocky one spoke. It's Friday the 13th. So what? Answered the tall one. So'm going to shoot him 13 times in the head. It was Sunday, May 15, 1983, just two days after Laney's final meeting with Roy Radin in Los Angeles. By then, she was across the country in Miami, back at the house she still kept there. Lainey had arrived in Miami only hours earlier, but she had plans that she wouldn't miss for the world. Her son Dax's first birthday. The house was decorated with brightly colored balloons,

a huge three-tiered cake towered on a table in the dining room. Laney stood on the front porch waiting for guests to arrive as she bounced Dax in her arms. The first party guests were already there, her personal security force of Bill Menser, Alex Marty, Bob Lowe, and Carl Plazak. Yesterday, they all left L.A. in a private plane that Laney chartered, just so they all left L.A. in a private plane that Laney chartered, just so they could carry firearms. Today, however, Laney asked them to swap their guns for gift-wrapped boxes and to please try and keep a low profile. Later, with the party in full swing, Laney stood chatting with a friend and glanced out the window.

She saw the four men standing alone by the pool. They didn't exactly look like neighborhood dads. When her friend asked who they were, Laney didn't miss a beat. They're part of a film crew, didn't I tell you? I've been working in Hollywood these days. After the party, Laney tried to call Bob Evans again, but he didn't pick up. The last time they'd spoken was the night before she left L.A., but they hadn't connected since then. Lainey told herself he was probably just busy. Evans still needed funding for his movie, especially now that Roy's arrangement was off the table. And that American Express deal her lawyers had touted apparently fell through, too.

She glanced over at Menser, who gave her a wide smile and reassuring look. Menser had promised her there was nothing to worry about. Lainey felt safe. A sense of relief washed over her. She could finally put Roy Radin behind her. It was time to move on. her. It was time to move on. By the end of summer 1988, Detective Stoner and Avila had learned crucial information from their undercover operation with Bill Ryder. Ryder had ended up meeting with

Menser several times. In one of the meetings, Menser expressed that Bob Lowe was a problem. Menser said, My worry is he talks a lot. Somebody might try to tape him or get him to snitch. The irony? It was Menser himself who helped detectives put it all together. The tape-recorded conversations allowed them to reconstruct the events surrounding Roy Radin's last ride on Friday, May 13th, 1983. That night, Bob Lowe drove the limo. Menser and a bodybuilder named Alex Marty had followed the vehicle. After it turned and stopped on a side street in West Hollywood,

Mincer and Marty stormed inside. Laney had then exited the car. Mincer and Marty flanked Radin in the back seat and had.22 caliber guns aimed at him. At one point, a police car blared behind the limo in close pursuit. The men, including Radin, thought the cops were after them. Mincer said, all of a sudden, all these sirens appear. We were freaking out. We were all freaking out. But then the police cars drove past them. They traveled north on I-5. Along the way, Mincer and Marty questioned Radin about his involvement in a drug heist at Laney's house. Radin denied any knowledge of the drug heist at Laney's house. Radin denied any knowledge of the operation. In the recorded conversation, Minstert also attributed the abduction to a movie deal gone sour. The men arrived at a remote location outside of the

small town of Gorman. Radin was forced out of the vehicle and walked up to a deserted area. Radin was forced out of the vehicle and walked up to a deserted area. There, he was shot to death 13 times because it was Friday the 13th. Bill Mincer provided the last shot. The gun, a.22 caliber with a silencer, used hollow point bullets, but they flattened on impact, making them look like shotgun pellets. This caused an error in the coroner's report, which incorrectly listed a shotgun as the murder weapon. The investigation uncovered another interesting detail.

In the months following Raden's death, Menser and Laney lived together in Palm Springs on a property secured with a spiked fence. One local resident who had interacted with Mincer said that he complained about his girlfriend. Mincer claimed Laney struggled with a drug problem and that he intended to send her back to where she came from. Stoner and Avila know they need Bill Ryder to connect with Alex Marty.

That's the man believed to have pulled the trigger 13 times on Roy Radin. But they have no idea that a game-changing revelation is about to blow open their investigation. Add free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. This is Episode 5 of 6 of The Cotton Club Murder. This podcast is based on historical research, but some dialogue has been dramatized. We used many sources when researching this story, but ones we found exceptionally helpful are Bad Company, Drugs, Hollywood,

and the Cotton Club Murder by Steve Wick and the Los Angeles Court Archives. Our show was produced by Tracy Patton, Rebecca Reynolds, and Jim Carpenter for Hollywood and Crime. Our writer is Patrick Coleman. Our managing producer is Sophia Martins. And our coordinating producer is Taylor Sniffen. Our story editor is Michaela Bly. Research by Adam Mellion. Sound design is by Kyle Randall. Our audio engineers are Sergio Enriquez and Augustine Lim.

Audio assembly by Daniel Gonzalez. Additional audio assistance from Adrian Tapia. Fact-checking by Will Tavlin. For Wondery, our senior producer is Laura Donna Palavoda. And our producer is Yasmin Ward. Executive producers are

Aaron O'Flaherty, Marshall Louis, and Jen Sargent. Sergeant. You don't believe in ghosts? I get it. Lots of people don't. I didn't either, until I came face to face with them. Ever since that moment, hauntings, spirits, and the unexplained have consumed my entire life.

I'm Nadine Bailey. I've been a ghost tour guide for the past 20 years. I've taken people along with me into the shadows, uncovering the macabre tales that linger in the darkness, and inside some of the most haunted houses, hospitals, prisons, and more. Join me every week on my podcast, Haunted Canada, as we journey through terrifying and bone-chilling stories of the unexplained. Search for Haunted Canada on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.