Boomtown Burglar

This story began with a tip from a great detective who thought it would make a good story. He was right. I like the kinship that developed between cop and robber. It shows a side of the police that civilians don’t often get to see. I’ve lost touch with Dustin Smith since the story ran. I hope his straight streak stuck. 

Parlaying a criminal past; Former burglar wants to teach businesses how to think like a criminal
Sunday, November 18, 2007 
Sherri Zickefoose
Calgary Herald ©

By day, Dustin Smith walked confidently among Calgary’s oil and gas executives in their downtown glass- and-granite highrises.The ambitious 25-year-old loved everything about their high-rolling lifestyle: steak and champagne dinners, good hockey seats, and the glamour of gold watches and designer clothes.

Dressed smartly in a sharp-cut suit and tie, Smith cruised through some of the city’s most secure corporate offices.

But at night, he returned wearing sneakers and a dark hoodie.

Instead of a briefcase, he was carrying duffle bags and a shopping list for state-of-the-art laptop computers and plasma televisions.

The high school dropout easily bypassed sophisticated security systems using only a magnet, a quarter, a coat hanger and a screwdriver.

For years, Smith was one of the city’s most prolific — and problematic — prowlers of downtown office towers.

The boomtown burglar earned a small fortune during each daring late-night manoeuvre. He could make $900 by selling one laptop.

Smith didn’t blow his ill-gotten gains on cocaine like many thieves drawn to our affluent city do.

After fencing the stolen goods, he’d hit Chinook Centre shopping mall and spend the money expanding his wardrobe. He’d pick up mountainous bar tabs from endless rounds of drinks at nighttime hotspots. He’d dine with a girlfriend in a tony restaurant: “Wherever they have a really good Champagne line,” he said.

But the good life soon ran dry. His secret life of crime came to a screeching halt one night when he and a partner were cornered by police inside a downtown bank office. On this night, he couldn’t escape by picking locks. He was finally caught in the act.

“We had it cleaned out. We got cocky,” he said.

The July 2004 arrest ended Smith’s six-year-long reign as a notorious break-and-enter bandit. He was responsible for stealing several hundred thousand dollars worth of electronics. A judge found him guilty on nine counts of break and enter and theft. He served 30 months in jail.

Five days after his release from prison, Smith walked into a police station looking for the man who put him behind bars.

Smith stood before Const. Dominic Mayhew on Sept. 24 and declared he was going straight.

He said he wanted to parlay his criminal past into a solid future by helping businesses learn how to protect their assets from guys like him.

“I’m getting older. I want to have a family. I’m 28 now and want to put that time and effort into something positive,” said Smith in an interview.

“I don’t want to be in that lifestyle anymore. I’m done.”

Smith is in the midst of launching Secure For Sure. He figures his natural talent for penetrating high-tech buildings can be turned into a legitimate consulting business to prevent crime. A website is in the works.

Mayhew said Smith seemed unstoppable during the officer’s two years on the downtown b&e beat.

“We never had anybody who was that proficient or smooth.”

Smith was hitting six buildings a month before he was caught.

“There were nights I’d make $15,000,” Smith said.

Sleek Stephen Avenue office towers glittered like diamonds in his eyes.

“Walking downtown, I didn’t see things like other people. I looked at an office building like it was 500 houses,” Smith said.

“I looked at it as the odds stacked in my favour.”

Thieves typically arouse suspicion by looking and acting like thieves.

Smith was proficient in his life of crime because he looked like he belonged in the office towers he was ransacking.

He often carried a clipboard while riding key-locked elevators and following employees.

He’d nod at cleaning staff as he walked past them. No one ever questioned why he was there after hours.

He lined emergency exit doors with ordinary tape so they would open easily later that night.

The presence of guards was no obstacle, he said.

“As long as you can get in the main floor past security, you’re in.”

Magnetic security cards used by employees are like a gift to a thief, he says.

“Beep cards made it easy.”

Inside the darkened offices after hours, Smith was an efficient burglar. He would skip bulky computer monitors and other valuables that would weigh him down.

“If it was skinny and silver, I’d grab it.”

The money was flowing. Smith lived like a king and treated his friends like royalty.

“I’d wake up and think, ‘I can’t believe I spent $2,500 last night.’ “

Eventually, Smith became a victim of his shady success.

“I just got so used to the money and the lifestyle. I wanted to stop. At one point, I was just trying to keep up with my lifestyle. I was too busy trying to impress everyone else.”

Smith’s humble beginnings may have had much to do with his decision to turn to a life of crime. Raised by a single mom on welfare, he and his brothers often had little to call their own, he says.

Meanwhile, Mayhew was steadily catching up with Smith. He studied multiple surveillance camera footage of the young burglar racing inside different towers. It paid off.

“The only reason Dom caught me was he figured out my MO,” said Smith.

The former robber and the cop have developed a rapport since Mayhew collared Smith three years ago.

Mayhew was faced with an overflowing caseload of unsolved office break-ins. Shortly after the arrest, he approached Smith and asked for a favour.

He wanted help clearing the outstanding break-in files. If Smith could claim which heists he was responsible for, Mayhew could surge ahead on unsolved cases.

After signing a waiver, a shackled Smith was loaded into an unmarked police van. Mayhew slowly drove around downtown office towers.

“I must have pointed to 30 buildings,” Smith said.

Mayhew says Smith was not a typical scruffy-looking, low-life burglar.

“That’s rare. Most are motivated by crack. He enjoyed the high lifestyle and hockey games and going out to eat. Nobody would ever guess he’d be like a b&e guy,” says Mayhew.

“I wish him all the best.”

He may have robbed big businesses blind, but Smith maintains he was a crook with a conscience.

“I couldn’t steal from somebody face to face. But I could sneak into some oil company without hurting anyone.”

Smith’s story echoes that of notorious imposter and cheque forger Frank Abagnale Jr., who famously went straight after serving time for cashing $2.5 million in fraudulent cheques around the world.

Between the ages of 16 and 21, Abagnale posed as a pilot, lawyer, college professor and doctor. He was arrested and later released on the condition he teach the federal government his tricks. He now consults with banks, corporations and government agencies around the world.

Steven Spielberg turned his life into the movie Catch Me If You Can.

Security companies contacted by the Herald wouldn’t speak on the record. They worry that revealing information about the security weaknesses Smith so deftly conquered would only encourage others to do the same.

One expert said Smith isn’t telling them anything they don’t already know.

But Mayhew thinks Smith’s practical experience could be invaluable.

“The people who operate these businesses don’t think like a criminal.”

Smith says time in jail helped him grow up.

“What I need is a shot to prove to people that I’m here to help now,” he said.

“I know what I was. But I think I could do a lot better than the way I was.”