Chapter 10/Lawsuit #2: Curse of the Pharaoh

Dear Mr. Glen:

I received a check for $80 as a refund. Busting up scams like you do is sure fun to see. It's nice to know that someone looks out for the common folks and for people who are gullible. Watching you expose the people you do, does our heart good, not to mention helping the people to sometimes get their money back. So please keep up your good deeds.

Sue Love
Menasha, WI

The next person who sued me was also involved with antiquities. Gala Tawfic was an Egyptian who opened a shop in an expensive North Dallas mall. Riding the popularity of the King Tut exhibition touring the United States, Tawfic was selling Egyptian artifacts he claimed were from King Tut's time. Some items such as bows and arrows sold for as much as $7,000.

But a woman who had just come back from vacationing in Egypt called me at KDFW-TV and said something was wrong. She had been told that there are no Egyptian artifacts for sale and hadn't been for hundreds of years. I checked with an expert at Southern Methodist University who confirmed what the woman said. I also called legendary Dallas District Attorney Henry Wade to let him know what was going on. I was invited to his office.

The courthouse is just a few blocks from KDFW-TV so I set out on foot. This was the route taken by President Kennedy's motorcade when he was assassinated in 1963. The Texas Schoolbook Depository, where Lee Harvey Oswald waited for the motorcade, is across the street from the courthouse. When shots were fired, CBS reporter Dan Rather ran to KDFW-TV, a CBS affiliate, and began phoning the latest information to his anchorman Walter Cronkite, broadcasting live in New York to the entire country. Eventually, the news came from the KDFW that President Kennedy was dead at Parkland Hospital.

As I was ushered into Henry Wade's office I was aware of the history hatched here: untold assassination investigations; prepping for the prosecution of Jack Ruby for the murder of Oswald; and strategy that failed in the landmark abortion case Roe vs. Wade, which made abortion legal in the United States.

The Chief, as Wade was known in the Dallas County Courthouse, had a big office and his desk was elevated on a wooden platform so he looked down at me from on high. Wade told me he was on to Tawfic, the Egyptian, and asked me to hold off on my story until they could arrest him.

"We'll let you know when we are going to get him and you can come along and have an exclusive," Wade said.

He asked me about other stories I was working on. As he listened, Wade rocked back and forth in his office chair. At the side of his chair was a tall wastepaper basket that seemed to have a black garbage sack in it. I couldn't figure out what it was for until Henry Wade turned to the basket, bent over and spit tobacco juice into it.

When I left Wade, the deal was set. His men would call me when they were ready to arrest Tawfic.

I was the only newsperson to have the story of Gala Tawfic's arrest. They handcuffed him at his shop and led him through the mall crowd out to the police cars. I asked him if he was selling fake Egyptian artifacts, and he said, "No!"

To keep me out of the courtroom, Tawfic's attorney claimed I would be a witness and invoked the rule that I couldn't be there. Henry Wade brought in Egyptologists from Cleveland and New York City museums. Examining Tawfic's wares, the experts said they were not authentic.

As a memento, the woman who had originally called me about Tawfic gave me a beautiful jade carving of a beetle regarded as sacred by the ancient Egyptians. The scarab as it is called was supposed to bring me good luck, but the day after Tawfic was convicted of felony theft, he filed a lawsuit against me.

Back in my attorney's office, which seemed to have a few more antiques, I was told that Tawfic was appealing his case because of the threat of deportation.

My attorney felt that the lawsuit was an attempt to keep me quiet. But I was on to another great story that would get me sued again and make my attorney a little richer.