They weren't just Mexican nationals — both qualified as U.S. citizens.
Besides, Manriquez hardly could "disappear" into Mexico like a common fugitive, Piccarreta noted in court filings. Manriquez was practically a celebrity, known not just for his media companies but for his political connections: His great-uncle, Plutarco Elias Calles, had been president of Mexico from 1924 to 1928.
Jamie Peachy
Ray Stern
A police flowchart shows the alleged “criminal enterprise.” Almost all charges later were dropped.
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Judge Donahoe was asked whether the men simply could agree to forfeit the millions in seized items and money if they failed to appear for court proceedings. The judge agreed that would be fine, and the two walked out of jail after 16 days behind bars.
The state first dropped charges against Mix. The money wasn't his, he argued, and he was co-signing on checks and wire transfers only when his father asked him to. The state conceded his point.
Manriquez, by his own reasoning, was nothing more than Naz's banker. Manriquez denied that his infusion of cash into the club or the car dealership meant he was their owner or manager. His accountant even produced one-page contracts in which Mario had agreed to lend Naz money "in multiples of $250,000" at 24 percent interest.
Even if corporate paperwork and official licensing forms required his name (which they did, police say), Manriquez contended that the law still didn't obligate him to ensure that the borrower, Naz, made necessary disclosures.
Piccarreta noted that Detective Kornegay and Deputy Attorney General Theodore Campagnolo didn't instruct the grand jury correctly on these nuances. The judge agreed and wrote an order to remand the case to the grand jury because Manriquez had no obligation to ensure disclosure if he was a "bona fide creditor."
The state moved to drop charges against Manriquez on December 6, 2010. Two days later, a representative of the AG's Office told New Times that the state intended to keep $12 million of the money seized from Manriquez, regardless of the outcome of the criminal case, and threatened that new charges could come the following year.
It never happened. Instead, the state gave back everything it had seized from Manriquez and his actual son.
Mix, who has homes in Tucson and Sonora, says he made a deal with prosecutors not to sue over his arrest and attempted prosecution. But he's critical of treatment he received at the hands of police during his arrest — he was unable to call his wife for 14 hours, he says — and of the prosecution that resulted in his children getting called names at school. He says police theories about a crime ring were "fantasy" and that his father merely made "bad decisions" by lending money to someone who misused it.
Asked if he ever went to CBNC, Mix says his father once took him there for an hour. Mix also had been to the car lot a couple of times, where he met Naz and, once, Upton. He says his father understood he was lending money for Exotic Auto Sales but that there was no money laundering going on — there was no reason for it.
The former director of operations for OmniCable (since taken over by Mexico's MegaCable), Mix hopes to move on with his life and start a microbrewery in Tucson.
When asked in 2011 to comment for this article, the AG's Office responded with an August 3 letter to Manriquez's attorney, in which Campagnolo wrote that the state won't file new charges against Manriquez, even though evidence was found that he put his in-laws on the books as employees at CBNC to give them a bogus employment history. This allowed them to sponsor a Mexican relative to enter the country.
But Manriquez isn't completely in the clear, prosecutors insist.
Campagnolo mentions that a defendant in the "crime ring" — Naz's personal bookkeeper, Nydia Zulema Morales — never has been found. If new evidence comes up, Manriquez still could be charged, prosecutors say.
Manriquez's defamation lawsuit against Phoenix and the state is wending its way through court. Yet major mysteries remain: Why did Manriquez give Naz $17 million over an eight-year period? Why did he not just use his wealth to invest legitimately in whatever he wanted? Steve Weiss, the Tucson attorney representing Manriquez in the defamation case, declined to comment on these questions.
Police never alleged that Manriquez's money was used to launder drug money or finance drug buys. However, one drug connection did exist: Ara Derboghossian, Naz's brother, told undercover cops in 2007 that he could help them transport hundreds of pounds of marijuana because his brother owned two car dealerships and had access to a warehouse and semi-trucks.
Ara was convicted last year on charges related to that sting and received a 31/2-year prison sentence.
Upton, now working two food-service jobs at upscale restaurants in Phoenix, and Allen, who found work at another dealership, each pleaded guilty to one misdemeanor related to their false-record filings. They got probation. Peters will get the same deal when she's sentenced later this month. Together, they're supposed to pay back a $20,000 bill for the investigation.
Doug Allen would say on the record only that he is glad Manriquez and Mix "were cleared in this whole thing. I believe they were truly victims."