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Feature
By
I. Nelson Rose
Jackpot
Jam
What
happens when progressive symbols & the law collide?
Picture
this: You put three dollars into a progressive jackpot slot machine
in Biloxi, Mississippi. You pull the handle and the reels spin. Suddenly
they stop, with jackpot symbols lined up on the payline. Bells ring
and lights flash. The machine freezes, with a scale showing the progressive
jackpot is $509,000. Other players are congratulating you.
What a feeling! You just won the jackpot. Right?
Now
imagine casino employees show up, take a quick look and say, 'The
machine malfunctioned.' They open the front of the machine and start
fiddling around inside. You cannot see what they are doing. Suddenly
you realize they are spinning the reels, erasing the jackpot, your
jackpot. One of them even removes one of the reels from the machine!
A man in a suit and tie tells you that you did not win. A crowd has
gathered. A player whispers in your ear, 'Have them call the Gaming
Commission.' This is the first time you had ever heard you could do
that.
'Would you please call the Gaming Commission?' you ask the suit. Even
though the law requires that in disputes of at least $500, Mississippi
casinos 'shall immediately notify the executive director', the casino
executive actually discourages you from involving the Commission.
You keep asking.
Finally, the casino calls the Commission. It takes the investigating
agent another hour to arrive.
You hit what you thought was the jackpot at 2:14 a.m. By the time
he shows up it is after 4 a.m. Almost all of the other casino patrons
have gone home.
The agent talks with you and several casino employees, but you notice
he is not taking any notes.
He looks at the slot machine and runs some tests. No one working for
the casino tells the agent that they had entered and manipulated the
machine prior to his arrival.
There are 16 cameras covering this part of the casino, all making
videotapes of what is happening. You later find out that the law requires
the casino to retain all videotapes for at least 10 days. The casino
claims it kept these original tapes for 10 days, although the surveillance
supervisor testified that he decided that night to erase them. In
either case, the casino tapes over all 16 camera shots.
The casino surveillance supervisor did start to make a copy of one
camera angle onto a new videotape. But he only dubs eight minutes.
The Commission's investigator looks over the little that had been
recorded and finds it is not helpful.
The casino claims the slot machine registered a 'tilt', a malfunction,
and froze up because the machine's door registered that it had been
opened. It is easy to find out whether it was an open door or a jackpot.
Every slot machine's computer comes with a custom buffer, a 'cus buf'
report, which shows all door openings, tilts and jackpots.
The Commission agent does not ask for this report. The casino erases
it.
The Commission investigator finds, surprise, that you have not won.
So you hire an attorney, who files a formal Petition for Investigation
with the Commission. A month after the incident, the Commission assigns
a new agent, who has to start from scratch. Of course, by this time,
virtually all the evidence has been destroyed.
This nightmare actually happened to David Hallmark. The amazing thing
is not that he had been treated so shabbily. Many casinos treat players
who claim disputed jackpots as menacing pests.
The real surprise is that any casino in Mississippi would mishandle
a patron dispute so badly, after they had been explicitly warned by
the State Supreme Court.
In 1999, a trial judge in Tunica County actually reversed a decision
by the Gaming Commission and awarded a player, Effie Freeman, a jackpot.
The state's highest court reversed, holding that the Commission had
to be upheld if there was any evidence supporting its decision.
But the court went on to discuss the 'many procedural errors and several
coincidences that are at least suspicious.' For example, there was
no surveillance videotape because the tapes were changed, with no
backup system, at the exact moment Freeman put money into the slot.
In an unusual move, the Justices spelled out how a dispute should
be handled, such as removing the slot machine from further play.
Justice McRae wrote a dissent, saying that he would have awarded Freeman
the jackpot. He said when a casino 'spoils' the evidence, such as
by opening the machine and manipulating the reels before an investigator
arrives, there should be a presumption 'that the slot machine would
have been evidence unfavorable to the casino.'
Again in 2001, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of a casino against
a player, James C. Thomas. But the court made it clear it did so 'reluctantly.'
There was so much evidence that Thomas had not won that the court
could not give him the slot jackpot. But it went out of its way to
reprimand the casino for violating regulations.
The Hallmark case was the final straw. The Supreme Court slapped the
casino's hand, hard. Even though it appears Hallmark had lined up
only two winning symbols, indicating a non-progressive prize of $20,000,
the Court awarded him the full $509,000 progressive jackpot.
Mississippi casinos may have finally learned their lesson. At the
end of 2002, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of a casino, because
it locked up the machine, immediately called the Commission, took
a photo of the reel display, opened the machine only with a Commission
investigator present, and sent the machine's computer processor and
memory to the Commission's Gaming Laboratory.
Mississippi casinos may be finally treating jackpot disputes with
respect.
Professor I. Nelson Rose is recognized as one of the world's leading
authorities on gambling law. His website is www.GamblingAndTheLaw.com.
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