He saw a story about the watches strewn on the 405 freeway and another, about the Century City heist. Were late-model Chevys a signature?Ĭurious, Stearman searched for similar robberies on Google. Stearman knew repeat offenders could be almost ritualistic, mimicking past offenses: passing the bank teller the same note, say, or always wearing the same shirt or hat. The heists also seemed meticulously planned, right down to repeated use of stolen Chevys as getaway cars. Most robberies are investigated by local law enforcement and prosecuted in state court, but these seemed organized, which could mean conspiracy to interfere with commerce by robbery-a federal crime. Stearman had wrapped up his gun-store investigation and was ready for another major case. Arce said a prayer as splinters of glass flew everywhere. Now the store's assistant manager, Daniel Arce, was lying facedown next to that same case as the robbers attacked it with hammers.

Employees noticed his outlandish outfit-a checked blazer and long denim shorts-and the way he used his phone to film the case that held the priciest watches. Just four days earlier, a man built like one of the robbers had visited Gearys, posing as a customer. “Hurry up!” the man shouted to his partner. “Get on the ground!” he yelled, and the guard and three other Gearys employees dropped to the floor. The first intruder, a short, stocky man carrying a rifle, burst in and his gun went off, shattering a glass case. Dupre is a solid six feet three inches, but as he rushed to lock the front door, the men were already pushing their way in. “They're coming, they're coming!” yelled Damian Dupre, a security guard at a Gearys luxury-watch boutique, when he saw the men running toward the store.

By the time they had reached the top, they'd pulled on ski masks and they were sprinting. On a quiet Monday around noon, two men dressed in black stepped onto an ascending escalator in the underground parking lot of an open-air mall in Century City in Los Angeles.

Emerald queen casino robbery