The Great Disappearing Gambling Machines ...

gambling machine removed by who?

When thousands of gambling machines quietly vanished across Missouri, they left behind more than empty corners. They left behind a mystery.

By Nosmo King

There are some stories that announce themselves with flashing lights and breaking news alerts, and then there are the stories that unfold so quietly most people never notice them until someone points to the empty space where something used to be.

This is one of those stories.

For years, electronic gambling machines became as much a part of Missouri's landscape as lottery terminals and soda coolers. They occupied the corners of convenience stores, truck stops, neighborhood taverns, family restaurants and gas stations, quietly inviting customers to try their luck while they waited for a meal or filled the tank in their pickup. They became so commonplace that most people eventually stopped asking the questions that should have been asked from the beginning. Who owned the machines? Why were they allowed to operate in so many places? Who decided where they could be placed? More importantly, who was making money every time another player fed cash into the machine?

It happened with surprising speed. Across Missouri, machines that had become familiar fixtures inside local businesses were unplugged, wheeled away, or simply vanished without explanation. Here in Macon, Missouri, businesses that had displayed the machines in plain view for years suddenly had empty store walls where flashing lights and electronic chimes had once competed for customers' attention. To the casual observer it may have appeared that the gambling business had simply come to an end.

As we began asking questions around town, another story quietly emerged. Several people told us the machines hadn't disappeared altogether. According to those accounts, some businesses had merely moved them into back rooms or areas that were no longer visible to the average customer. Whether those reports prove accurate remains to be determined, and this investigation will rely on evidence rather than rumor. Even so, the consistency of those conversations raises a question that deserves an answer. If operating the machines is perfectly legal, why move them out of public view? On the other hand, if operating them violates Missouri law, what legal difference could possibly be made by relocating them twenty feet behind a closed door?

That simple question led to another, and it may ultimately prove to be the most important question of all.

Who actually owns Missouri's gambling machines?

Most people naturally assume the machines belong to the convenience store, restaurant or tavern where they are located. After all, they're sitting inside the business, plugged into its electrical outlets and being used by its customers. Yet the reality appears to be considerably more complicated. In many cases, the machines are owned not by the local business but by companies whose names most Missourians have never heard. Those companies typically supply the equipment, install it, maintain it, service it, collect a share of the revenue and enter into agreements with the business owner who provides little more than floor space and access to customers.

That changes the entire story.

If thousands of gambling machines disappeared across Missouri within a matter of days or weeks, it seems unlikely that thousands of independent business owners all reached the same decision at precisely the same time. A far more logical question is whether a relatively small number of companies, each controlling hundreds or perhaps thousands of machines, made coordinated business decisions in response to mounting legal pressure. If that proves to be the case, the disappearance of Missouri's gambling machines may not have been a series of isolated local decisions at all. It may have been the result of decisions made in corporate offices far removed from the communities where the machines actually stood.

Those questions became even more significant as Missouri's legal landscape began to change.

Attorney General Andrew Bailey announced that federal investigations had contributed to Torch Electronics shutting down many of its gaming machines throughout Missouri, a development that sent shockwaves through an industry that had operated in legal uncertainty for years.

At nearly the same time, lawsuits began challenging the state's enforcement efforts, arguing that businesses were being forced to surrender long before any court had determined whether the games themselves violated Missouri law.

One of those lawsuits, filed on behalf of Turners Bar & Grill in St. Charles County, raises issues that reach well beyond gambling. According to the court filings, retailers have found themselves trapped in an impossible position. Waiting to be criminally prosecuted in hopes of obtaining a judicial ruling may sound straightforward in theory, but the lawsuit argues that reality is far different. A business accused of operating illegal gambling devices may face search warrants, seizure of machines and cash, banking complications, insurance problems, damaged relationships with landlords and suppliers, and lasting harm to its reputation before a judge or jury ever determines whether the machines were unlawful in the first place.

Attorney James Trapp captured that concern in a statement that deserves careful consideration.

"They come in and claim you're breaking the law, and suddenly you're tried, found guilty, convicted and there's no due process."

Whether courts ultimately agree with that assessment remains to be seen. The legal questions will be answered in courtrooms, not newspaper columns. Yet the statement highlights an issue that should concern every Missourian regardless of where they stand on gambling. Our system of justice has long rested on the principle that accusations alone do not establish guilt. That principle becomes especially important when government action has the potential to cripple businesses before the legal process has fully run its course.

Back in Macon, however, the mystery remains much simpler and perhaps much more intriguing.

If reports are accurate that some machines continue operating in private rooms while others have disappeared entirely, who made those decisions? Were local business owners instructed to move the machines rather than remove them? Did the companies that own the equipment develop different strategies for different locations? Were attorneys advising clients to reduce visibility while broader legal challenges worked their way through the courts? Or are the reports themselves inaccurate and the machines truly gone?

Every answer seems to generate two more questions.

The more I looked into Missouri's gambling industry, the clearer it became that these machines represent far more than electronic games sitting in the corner of a convenience store. They are pieces of a much larger business network involving manufacturers, distributors, route operators, software providers, maintenance companies, attorneys, lobbyists and government agencies, all connected by contracts, revenue-sharing agreements and legal disputes that most citizens never see. The machines may occupy only a few square feet of floor space, but the business surrounding them stretches across the state and generates millions of dollars each year.

That is precisely why ownership matters.

Until we know who owns the machines, who profits from them, who controls where they are placed and who decided to remove—or perhaps relocate—them, we cannot fully understand what has happened across Missouri over the past several months. The disappearance of the machines may be the most visible part of the story, but it is almost certainly not the most important.

The public deserves more than speculation. Citizens deserve documented facts. They deserve to know which companies own Missouri's gambling machine networks, how those companies operate, what agreements they have with local businesses, how revenue is divided, what role state regulators have played, and why enforcement appears to have unfolded so quickly after years of uncertainty.

Over the coming weeks, the Missouri Gambling Machines Investigation will examine corporate records, court filings, lobbying activity, ownership structures, contracts, public records, state enforcement actions and the companies that quietly built one of the most controversial industries in Missouri. We'll follow the paper trail wherever it leads, whether that trail ends in Jefferson City, a corporate boardroom, a courthouse or a small-town convenience store whose empty corner tells only a fraction of the story.

This is an ongoing investigative series being reported by Nosmo King. A follow-up article will be published soon.

Regards Maconites,

Nosmo King - ( Editor In Chief ) Macon Missouri Online