The usual confidence gone from his gait, Tony Dane searched for a familiar face as he crossed the downtown parking lot with an armload of legal documents.

He tried for nonchalance, but couldn’t pull it off.  Dane needed a haircut and a shave, and his shirt was untucked. I didn’t know him well, but had never seen him appear so bedraggled. We were meeting for an interview about his political extortion case, but in October 2017 he looked like he needed a bowl of soup and some Scripture.

As a notorious political trickster, Dane was a darling of conservative Republicans, anti-gays and pro-lifers. Using his automated phone dialing system, he was a well-paid right-wing troll who began his career before trolling proliferated the Internet like blow flies on a corpse.

His strong conservative Christian beliefs often brought out the bully in him. He gained headlines in 1996 for attacking state legislator David Parks, Nevada’s first openly gay lawmaker. In that incident, Dane circulated a collage of newspaper clippings unrelated to Parks that included an article about a child rape along with the politician’s endorsement by Bugle, a local gay community newspaper. Dane’s homophobia was palpable, and he made no secret of his opinion that God opposed alternative lifestyles.

Dane’s campaign vitriol and robodialing skill finally got him into real trouble in late 2014 and early 2015. He was sunk not by the Democrats, but by Republicans who failed his political purity test. In 2016, he was indicted on 11 counts related to trying to strong-arm GOP Assemblyman Chris Edwards and others into changing their votes for speaker of the Republican-controlled Assembly. The GOP majority wasn’t reactionary enough for Dane and his allies.

The case was too small for the FBI and made Edwards look easily intimidated by a political schoolyard bully, but a state grand jury heard enough evidence to indict Dane on extortion, perjury and unlawful wiretap charges. He professed his innocence and promised to fight. The original 11 counts were eventually reduced to four, and Dane assured skeptics he’d fight the charges.

Dane had been clever. He kept his phone equipment stored in Utah, a one-party consent state, meaning that one party could legally, secretly, record another.  He was most notorious in Nevada politics, but he made his residence in Virginia. The six-figure source of his funds to support his robo-dialing efforts was a source of intrigue to Metro detectives.  But at his worst he was known more for dirty tricks and political sleaze than substantial scandal. Given the state’s rough-and-tumble legislative history, with the passage of time the indictment appeared to have more bark than bite.

Then came Sept. 8, 2017. Jammed up with his criminal case in Nevada, Dane was forced to earn a buck by other means. He converted an old school bus with rotted tires, no power steering fluid, no seat belts, faulty brakes and no brake lights into a bright red food truck he christened “Great American Hamburgers,” The Washington Post reported. The newspaper described the vehicle as a “rolling diner” weighing 22,000 pounds.

Dane tried unsuccessfully to repair the 20-year-old vehicle’s faulty brakes. Instead of taking it to a mechanic, he took to the road without a valid driver’s license or insurance. Testimony would reveal Dane knew the brakes were so bad on Sept. 8 that he lost control of the vehicle, careened through a stop sign at Watson Road an Evergreen Mills Road outside Leesburg, Va., and slammed into an Audi station wagon.

The driver of the station wagon, Erin Kaplan, died at the scene. Her two children were severely injured, suffering broken bones.

The 57-year-old was charged and convicted at trial in March of involuntary manslaughter and four other counts. A jury has recommended a sentence of nearly a dozen years.

At trial, The Post reported Dane telling the jury, “‘Sorry’ is such a shallow word in this instance. I did such a devastating thing to their family. I not only destroyed the Kaplans, but I destroyed my own family at the same time. I don’t know how to correct this. It’s something that’s not fixable.”

In the end, Tony Dane has ended up a beaten man of self-inflicted wounds. He’s a soul in need of the Christian kindness he didn’t display as Nevada’s robocall king.

 

 Contact John L. Smith at [email protected]. On Twitter: @jlnevadasmith.