THE $10 MILLION MAN

Robert Henry Golding died on an I-70 on-ramp in Colby, next to a
rented Ford Taurus carrying $3.7 million in drug money. A few hundred
miles behind him, he had left another $6 million in a Colorado storage
locker. Golding, 43, stuck a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger
Jan. 14 after a Colby police officer stopped the Taurus for an illegal
turn, authorities said.

His run was ended not by the platoons of high-tech federal agents he'd
evaded for years, but by one small-town cop who didn't bite on a lie.

No one -- except possibly Golding's alleged partner-in-crime Justin
Erik DeBusk -- knows where he was going.

But emerging from the investigation of his death is a picture of a man
whose mother told authorities was brilliant, but someone she hadn't
seen in four or five years, someone she wasn't even sure was living in
the country.

A man who spent half his adult life in federal prison and the other
half pretending to be someone else -- and who built cover identities
so convincing they fooled federal narcotics officers.

A man haunted by memories of abuse at the hands of fellow prisoners
who vowed to friends he would never, ever, go back behind bars.

Illegal drugs were Golding's trade, and deceptions were his tools. One
day, he'd be William Richards; the next, Pablo Robles; the day after
that, Michael Connors or maybe Jay Falconer. Court documents list 30
aliases for him, and law enforcement officers say the number will
probably rise to at least 40 by the end of the investigation.

He carried blank birth certificates and other documents to create more
identities should the whim or need arise.

"He was a real chameleon," said Drug Enforcement Agency Special Agent
Ron Hollingshead, spokesman for the DEA office in Denver.

Part of what allowed Golding to stay under the radar screen was his
nondescript appearance. The manager who rented him the storage locker
in Fort Collins, Colo., said he was about 5 feet 5 inches tall, 140
pounds and looked like David Spade of the television show "Just Shoot
Me." A onetime associate said he looked like Corbin Bernsen of the
series "LA Law."

An employee of a high-rise downtown Denver condo complex where Golding
rented a pricey apartment said Golding looked like the prototypical
jeans-casual Colorado yuppie -- obviously moneyed but not
ostentatious.

Police and federal agencies won't release a photo. So many people in
the drug underworld knew him under so many names that agents feel it
could damage other ongoing investigations.

Inmate No. 02464-051

In prison, Golding was inmate No. 02464-051. He spent most of the
period from 1985 to 1994 locked up in Bastrop, Texas; Lompoc, Calif.,
and Phoenix, said Scott Wolfson of the Federal Bureau of Prisons.

Little is known about his life before then. His mother, who lives in
Texas, could not be reached for comment.

A federal court sentenced him to 10 years in 1985 for continuing
criminal enterprise and false income tax returns. His illicit
enterprise was a major cocaine-smuggling ring that brought the drug
from Colombia, Central America and Mexico across the Texas border,

said Daryl Fields, spokesman for the U.S. attorney's office in
San Antonio.

In 1991, records show, Golding received a 1-year sentence for a false
passport.

A federal prison in Phoenix released Golding in 1994. He was supposed
to remain under supervision for two years, but he vanished,
authorities said.

In his last days, Golding's closest associates were his friend DeBusk
and his girlfriend, Mitra Mina Hagh. Court records show Golding and
Hagh rented a condo July 15 at the Windsor building, a high-rise just
off trendy Larimer Square in downtown Denver, where units run $170,000
to $400,000 each.

They paid the building management $13,000 cash for three months rent
and a security deposit, records show.

It was a good place for Golding and Hagh to hide in plain sight. The
building's occupants are split between older people and young
professionals and "a lot of people here don't know each other," said
Dennis Smith, a downstairs neighbor who had the parking place next to
the one assigned to Golding and Hagh.

The building itself is like a fortress, the lobby guarded day and
night and the parking secured by heavy steel doors. Dennis Smith and
his wife, Helen, say they never met Golding and Hagh and don't
remember ever seeing a car in their parking space.

Their first inkling anything was wrong came when Helen Smith, a
Wichita native, read in the Denver Post that Golding had killed
himself and that authorities had seized almost $10 million.

Fooling The Feds

Aug. 11 was the last time Golding and Hagh were seen at the Windsor.
That was the day authorities arrested and held Golding for selling
marijuana to two men from Aspen, Colo., according to a federal
arrest-warrant affidavit.

Golding's facility for false identity was to serve him well one last
time.

He told officers his name was "William Richards."

A check of the FBI National Crime Information Center confirmed
the identity and linked "Richards" to a May 1999 arrest in Maui, Hawaii.
It was a small-time count of snorting cocaine in the corner of a
courtyard at a shopping mall and "Richards" was released, Maui County
police Sgt. Danny Matsuura said.

While in custody in Denver, Golding received several cellphone calls
from a woman identified as "Milan," believed to be Hagh, court records
show. When agents put Golding on the phone, he told her, "They know me
as William."

Golding had had $35,000 in cash in a blue bag -- his pay for the Aspen
marijuana -- along with $10,000 in a pocketbook and another $2,720 in
his pocket. Authorities seized about 212 pounds of marijuana.

Golding admitted he had sold the marijuana and said he was part of a
smuggling ring distributing 1,000 to 2,000 pounds a month in Arizona
and Colorado.

He offered to help catch the kingpins of the ring, and DEA agents
released him on his promise he would stay in touch with them.

He didn't.

Margaritas, But No Flash

The agents learned they'd been duped when they got back a fingerprint
match for "Richards" showing he was really Golding. They also found
out Golding was wanted on a May 2, 1994, federal warrant out of Texas
for parole violations.

Jon Carter, one of the men Golding allegedly sold to, says he was not
arrested over marijuana but for failure to appear on a traffic case.

A 54-year-old Aspen chef, Carter said he met Golding about a year ago
and had seen him dozens of times, mostly in nightclubs, where Golding
liked to drink margaritas.

He said Golding told him his name was "Sean Richards."

While in Aspen, Golding drove a luxury GMC Yukon Denali and wore nice
watches but didn't stand out from the crowd in Aspen. The median price
for a home there is $2.4 million, and locals say the billionaires are
pushing out the millionaires. "(Golding) wasn't a flash kind of guy,"
Carter said.

Golding never said anything about his occupation or where he was from,
and, "Up here, people don't ask questions," Carter said.

But when Carter found out Golding shot himself, he thought he
knew why: Golding had confided in Carter that he had served time in prison -- a
small man in a place where small men are prey.

"He said he had been attacked so many times," Carter said. "He said
he'd never go back."

The Beginning Of The End

On Aug. 17, the day after the fingerprint match showed "Richards" was
actually Golding, agents searched Golding and Hagh's apartment at the
Windsor. The couple had left in a hurry, leaving behind clothing and
other personal items. They'd also tried to burn documents in the
fireplace, but agents found enough unburned papers to indicate "Milan"
was really Hagh.

The beginning of the end of Golding's run came Jan. 7, when Hagh was
arrested while trying to cross the U.S.-Canada border at Blaine,
Wash., north of Seattle.

According to court documents, she acted nervously and told border
authorities she had made purchases in Canada that would be subject to
a duty tax.

A search of her Ford Expedition turned up a metal box hidden under the
vehicle that contained false IDs and almost $190,000 in cash, the
documents said. Hagh is being held in a federal detention center in
Washington without bond. Her lawyer, Ken Kanev, said she had been
accused of making a false statement but declined to elaborate.

About the time of Hagh's arrest, Golding had been staying in Seattle
at the four-star Hotel Monaco, where a receptionist speaks with a
melodious French accent. It was the kind of upscale place Golding
frequented, said Denny Behrend, supervisory deputy U.S. marshal in
Seattle.

"It's kind of ironic because the hotel's a block away from our office
here," Behrend said.

Authorities Close In

The border checkpoint arrest was the break law enforcement needed to
close in on Golding.

Hagh had rental receipts for a locker at A Storage Place, the
storage-rental business at Fort Collins. The business is on an
out-of-the-way site of a defunct drive-in theater.

Agents checked on the storage unit and found a man named "Michael
Connors" -- who gave a Montreal, Canada, address and driver's license
- -- had rented it. "Michael Connors" was yet another of Golding's aliases.

The manager, Tom Pasquarello, said "Connors" claimed to be in the area
on business, paid for a year in advance on the storage rental and
didn't do anything to raise suspicion. "He looked just like 99 other
people who came in here to rent a storage unit," Pasquarello said.

Agents set up a surveillance of the unit. About 9 a.m. on Jan. 14, two
men showed up with a rental truck and a red Lincoln Navigator luxury
sport-utility vehicle.

The man driving the Navigator was identified by the storage company's
records as "Jake Voskuhl," who had rented another unit in the complex.
"Voskuhl" was later identified as DeBusk, records show.

The two men went toward Golding's unit, but apparently spotted
the surveillance agents and drove off in the truck and the
Navigator.

Later that day, investigators obtained a warrant and searched
Golding's storage unit, finding 11 U-Haul boxes containing more than
400 pounds of cash -- $5,999,875, said Richard Weatherbee, law
enforcement coordinator for the U.S. Attorney's office in Denver.
DeBusk's storage locker, searched later, turned out to be empty.

DeBusk, 26, who had used his own name to rent the Navigator, took it
back to the rental agency and swapped it for the Taurus that he and
Golding were driving when they were stopped in Colby.

The two men took with them some Spanish-language instructional CDs. A
cryptic note seized from Hagh had a reference to Minnesota.

But authorities say unless DeBusk talks, they'll probably never know
for sure where the two men thought they were going when they ran into
Colby police Cpl. Scott Sitton.

Sitton told Police Chief Randall Jones that his suspicions were
aroused when he noticed that the driver of the Taurus didn't know what
side of the car the gas cap was on when he pulled into the Amoco
station in Colby.

Sitton ran a check on the car's Michigan license tag, RKX 457, but he
called it in wrong, so it didn't match up to the Taurus.

Sitton followed the Taurus and pulled the car over after DeBusk,
turning right onto a four-lane road, made his turn into the outside
lane instead of the inside lane.

DeBusk and Golding told him they were returning from a ski trip.
Sitton was suspicious because they didn't have any ski equipment. He
searched the trunk and found a locked bag DeBusk said was Golding's.

Sitton told Golding to get out of the car. Golding did, then turned
his back, took a gun out of his waistband and shot himself, according
to police reports.

Thomas County Sheriff Tom Jones was about a block away when he heard
Sitton's radio call for an ambulance and backup.

By the time he got there, DeBusk was handcuffed and Golding was lying
face down in the grass by the side of the road. Sitton's face and
uniform were spattered with blood.

DeBusk was booked at the Thomas County Jail and charged with aiding a
felon. His father, Fred DeBusk, of Huntington Beach, Calif., said he
didn't know if his son knew what he was hauling.

'A Damned Early Grave'

Early the next morning, law enforcement officials and two Colby bank
employees began counting the money. Nine hours later, they had the total:
$3,771,446.

Randall Jones said he doesn't want to glorify Golding but was
grudgingly impressed. "As bad as the guy might be, he was a pretty savvy
businessman."

But it was an ultimately destructive enterprise, said Sheriff Tom
Jones.

"What did all of that money get him? A damned early
grave."

Contributing: Novelda Sommers of The Eagle