DISGRACE AND DISGUST IN HENRY COUNTY VA.

MARTINSVILLE, Va. -- The trees are turning colors on the ridges across
the county, Martinsville Speedway is advertising for next season and
cattle graze on whatever comes up through the red clay. But along the
Smith River and the streets of several surrounding towns, there is an
unrelenting grayness of abandoned textile mills, boarded-up furniture
plants and empty businesses for sale or lease.

Residents of Henry County, a hard-luck rural area of about 58,000 on
the North Carolina border, blame the North American Free Trade
Agreement for their woes -- spitting its acronym like an expletive.
Now, the indictment of the county sheriff and 12 former and current
deputies in a drug-trafficking ring has only deepened the gloom.

"I think it's just a disgrace," said Tommy Hurley, 57, a used-car
salesman who said that the area needs more than bad news. "We need
some jobs."

"There may be some openings in the sheriff's department," chimed in
Junior Agee, 73, a retired trucker from Eden, N.C.

A federal grand jury in Abingdon has charged Henry County Sheriff H.F.
"Frank" Cassell and 12 former and current employees with participating
in a criminal enterprise that dealt in cocaine, marijuana, steroids
and ketamine, a powerful tranquilizer implicated in date-rape cases.

The 48-count indictment, returned Oct. 31, alleges crime after crime
since 1998: Defendants dealt or stole confiscated weapons, including a
machine pistol; they took money and property seized during
investigations; they lied to federal investigators; and a drug dealer
threatened to shoot a deputy in the conspiracy if the deputy snitched.

The indictment charges 20 people, including a postal service employee,
a state probation officer and high-ranking deputies. Cassell, a
68-year-old grandfather who planned to retire after his current term,
is charged with looking the other way, covering up and lying to
federal investigators.

Locals have been mesmerized -- a radio station spent hours regaling
listeners with information gleaned from recordings in the case -- and
disgusted, too. The intrigues in Cassell's department, driven by sex,
greed and power, read like an Appalachian version of an HBO drama but
also seem certain to further tarnish the struggling region.

"It is disgraceful corruption," U.S. Attorney John L. Brownlee said.
'Too Small' for a Big Scandal

Cassell has always been known for his poker face -- so much so that
some folks wondered whether he ever smiled at all.

Along with his imposing height, Cassell had a cool, unflappable style
that gave an impression that the former Virginia state trooper ruled
his office with a sure hand.

"We thought he was doing good for the community, not lining his
pockets," said Shelia Oliver, 43, a homemaker who was drinking coffee
and smoking Marlboro 100s at Clarence's Steak & Seafood House last
week. "He's out there doing the same thing he locked people up for!"

Oliver said it upset her that southern Virginia is home to more
misfortune, adding that Henry County is "too small for something like
this to be happening here."

"That's probably why they thought they could get away with it," said
her cousin, Tina Oliver, 28, drumming her fingernails, painted with a
scene from the Crucifixion, on the table.

Cassell, whose portrait hangs in headquarters opposite those of
deputies killed in the line of duty, announced his retirement Monday
from his $90,000-a-year post. It was effective immediately.

Through attorney John E. Lichtenstein, Cassell has asserted his
innocence and declined to be interviewed. He is free on a $25,000
personal recognizance bond.

At the center of the scandal are Cassell and sheriff's Sgt. James A.
Vaught. A father of three who spent 11 years on the force, Vaught, 33,
was snared early in the investigation. He resigned in March 2005,
agreed to cooperate and secretly began recording Cassell and other
defendants.

To some who know Cassell, those recordings depict him as someone who
was not looking for personal profit but who was eager to help Vaught
and other favorites avoid arrest and keep the scandal from blowing up
on his watch. Cassell Rises Through the Ranks

Cassell arrived in Henry County in 1959 as a state trooper patrolling
its roads. His rise to power began with a six-way race for sheriff in
1991. Often campaigning in a flannel shirt, Cassell criticized the
department's fondness for speed traps. Instead, he vowed to crack down
on illegal drugs.

In April 1996, Cassell had his first brush with national exposure when
U.S. News & World Report ran a lengthy article about Sandy Level (pop.
800), depicting the town as a wild frontier full of violent young coke
dealers.

An even bigger case came in August 2002 with the murder of a local
couple in Bassett and the disappearance of their 9-year-old daughter,
Jennifer Short. She was later found slain.

As yellow ribbons and posters flooded the area, Cassell's calm,
Southern drawl became a regular presence on cable TV and morning talk
shows.

Court papers say Cassell owns a trucking business and large amounts of
land and has reported making more than $20,000 a year in dividends. He
and his wife, Margaret, have been married 44 years and have two adult
daughters. A Middleman Is Stung

The case began in March 2005, when the Drug Enforcement
Administration's Philadelphia office, while investigating online drug
trafficking, alerted agents in Roanoke that an express mail package
was headed to a Martinsville residence with two kilograms of ketamine.

Agents set up a sting for the intended recipient, who told them that
he was renting the house from Vaught and acting as a middleman in
their drug deals. The house served as a drop site for drugs and a
trysting place for deputies who were cheating on their spouses.

Federal agents went after Vaught next. For someone receiving a
deputy's pay -- the starting salary is $27,313 -- Vaught seemed to be
doing very well.

He and his wife, Tammy, a registered nurse at Morehead Memorial
Hospital in Eden, N.C., live in a brick house on a wooded hilltop in
Ridgeway. He bought several pieces of heavy machinery and owned dozens
of rental houses, according to neighbors and transcripts.

Vaught hunted and fished, hanging his trophies around the house, and
loved loading up his camper with his family, said Jimmy Craven, 47,
who rents from the Vaughts next door. Their 7-year-old son, Hunter,
idolized his father, often carrying a tin of bubble gum in his hip
pocket to imitate his father's snuff, another neighbor said.

Efforts to reach Vaught were unsuccessful. Tammy Vaught declined to
comment.

In transcripts filed by federal authorities, Vaught appeared to treat
Cassell like family. "How you doin', old man?" Vaught greeted him one
day.

The two men talked office politics, gossiped about deputies who kept
mistresses and chatted about deer that Vaught spotted in Cassell's
yard. Vaught talked of ruining his life through illegal activity but
also boasted of embezzling more than $100,000 with a girlfriend from a
doctor. And they talked about the deepening corruption in their
department, fretting whether a "stooge" was leaking their secrets.

On Nov. 2, federal agents and state troopers made arrests with an
awesome show of force at the sheriff's headquarters. They stormed into
the sheriff's house in Axton, guns drawn, to arrest him. They hauled
him to court in shackles.

"He had this real stone-faced scowl," said Bill Wyatt, owner of two
radio stations in Martinsville. "He had this sad expression that
looked like he was mad, he was defiant and he had been wronged."