Deep-Rooted Ideals Shape Small Town's Character

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U.S. Marshals say John Robert Boone is a major kingpin in the Kentucky marijuana racket and one of the top players in the notorious "Cornbread Mafia."

Central Kentucky, an area known for a variety of colorful characters including religious devotees and self-proclaimed Good Ol’ Boys, has long been known for its controversial ways, dating back to the days of Prohibition.

At a time when smooth Kentucky bourbon and all "intoxicating liquors" were outlawed, people were forced to go underground to acquire their favorite boozy beverages.

And ever since the Prohibition Era, those who populate the area have lived with an unspoken code of silence. The code, historically, has been in place to protect those members of the community who may choose to disregard the laws of man, but rarely, if ever, the righteous laws of their God.

Eventually, the laws of Prohibition were repealed.  But over time, a new set of laws were enacted to dissuade Americans from using illicit drugs in the turbulent 1960s.

Marijuana's popularity grew at an alarming rate throughout that decade -- and growers in Kentucky began using some of the same tactics their ancestors did, when operating underground moonshine distilleries.  As the government’s War on Drugs kicked into high gear, Kentucky pot farmers were forced to get creative.

In October 1987, nearly 20 Kentucky residents were busted in a raid on a Minnesota farm, in which federal agents seized approximately 45 tons of marijuana, which was hidden deep within a number of rural cornfields, far from public view.

This lone seizure effectively opened up the proverbial floodgates, as the government soon began to unravel a tremendous network of nearly 30 marijuana farms spread throughout the Midwest.

In total, nearly 75 men were arrested and the government confiscated approximately 182 tons of pot, which, at the time, had a street value of nearly $400 million.

Initially, the government referred to the enterprise as the Marion County Marijuana Cooperative, as most of the members involved hailed from Marion County, Ky.

A source closely involved with the case in the 1980s tells AMW that the name "Cornbread Mafia" was bestowed upon the group by one of its own leaders.

During a routine interrogation, the man vowed not to tell authorities anything about 'the Cornbread Mafia' -- unofficially coining the catchy term which authorities used to describe the group from that point on.

The leader of one faction of Cornbread Mafia pot-growers was a man by the name of Johnny Boone -– a native Kentuckian who, at the dawn of the 21st century, emerged from a long prison sentence a changed man.

After having served nearly 13 years of a possible 20 -- three of which were spent inside of the notorious federal penitentiary in Terre Haute, Ind., the site of the only federal death row -- he came out subdued, pensive, and by all accounts, a far more tame version of his former self.

Deputy Jimmy Habib of the United States Marshals Service tells AMW that during his time in prison, Boone learned of the creed of "Omerta" from fellow prisoners hailing from Sicily.

In Boone’s own writing, provided to AMW by the U.S. Marshals Service, Boone describes the ideals of Omerta as follows: “To never rat on anyone; To never harm another person, except in defense; To protect women and children and helpless; To always have a clear view of right and wrong; To do right without reserve.”

Boone found numerous similarities between the Sicilian ideals of Omerta and the code of silence instilled throughout his native Kentucky homeland.

To put the deep roots of this ideal into perspective, of all the Kentucky-based Cornbread Mafia members brought up on charges for their parts in the cooperative, not a single one turned on their fellow man -- a fact many members of the law enforcement community consider to be downright astonishing.

It is this strong belief in Omerta which authorities say Boone carries with him today, as he remains on the run from justice for what law enforcement officials believe will be the last time.

Much to the Marshals' dismay, however, those who know Boone respect him too much to dare turn him in -- and they believe the crimes he's accused of are not considered crimes of their Heavenly Father.

According to Ronnie Lee Smith, one of the many friends of Johnny Boone we've spoken to, "Johnny Boone has never broken the laws of the Big Book. Only mankind."

Boone's Legend Grows Along With His Pot Plants

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In Boone's own handwriting, he describes the ideals behind "Omerta." Photo provided by U.S. Marshals.

Over time, Johnny Boone's criminal record shows quite the felonious résumé. His first documented run-in with the law came in late October 1969, when the ATF in Louisville arrested him on charges of possessing untaxed spirits and whiskey.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg on Boone's long rap sheet. Since the tumultuous 1960s, he's been charged with a laundry list of felonies, including cultivating marijuana, wanton endangerment, drug trafficking, firearms and others.

Deputy Habib tells AMW that Boone's 1980 wanton endangerment charge was anything but a run-of-the-mill felony, and the details of the arrest are the stuff of lore.

Habib says Boone caught wind that the cops were planning to raid his substantial marijuana crop, so he and two friends climbed into a black pickup truck and drove wildly through the small town until they arrived at the police station.

After driving up on the sidewalk and nearly clipping a police officer, the bandits, as they were often referred to as, led the local cops on a wild chase through town until they ultimately lost the tail.

But the bandits weren't done yet.

According to Habib, the bandits then drove around until they found an off-duty state trooper's home, and they proceeded to ram into the trooper's cruiser.

The trooper called in all the Kentucky State Police units he could muster, and Boone's group led them on yet another wild chase through Lebanon.

Eventually, Boone and his crew were arrested, but they had accomplished their mission -- while the cops were busy chasing after him, Habib says Boone had his cronies, all members of the notorious Cornbread Mafia, move his cache of marijuana out of the farm before the lawmen could get their hands on it.

The charges against Lebanon's bandits were ultimately dropped, however, because the pickup truck alleged to be involved in the joyride had never been recovered.

In the years after 1980, authorities say Boone continued his felonious ways and remained one of the most prominent figures in the Cornbread Mafia.

Habib tells us that Boone is considered a pioneer in the marijuana business. He was one of the first growers to separate the male plants from female plants, in turn making the tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) content higher than in any other plants in the United States; the higher the THC content, the more potent the grass's high is for users.

Over the years, Boone was charged with various crimes, mainly drug- and weapons-related, but in October 1987, law enforcement officials hit pay dirt: they arrested Boone for Unlawfully Manufacturing In Excess of 1,000 Kilos of Marijuana on a farm in the North Star State.

Though sentenced to 20 years in a federal prison, Boone was paroled in 1999.

Never a man to learn from his mistakes, Marshals say Boone has since continued to be quite the thorn in law enforcement's side.

Feds: Psychological Mind Games Keep Town On Boone's Side

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Johnny Boone keeps cow bones scattered throughout his land to dissuade unwanted visitors from stepping foot near his 'crops.' Photo provided by U.S. Marshals.

In late May 2008, the Kentucky State Police Marijuana Eradication Team flew their aircraft over Boone's farm and noticed a wagon with what looked to be marijuana plants sitting on it.

In actuality, agents say there were more than 900 plants on that wagon, soaking in the sun's nourishing rays.

After requesting a search warrant, the KSPMET and DEA task force members swarmed the farm and made a shocking discovery: besides recovering over 2,400 marijuana plants in total, they also found the place to be littered with crude sculptures, built from the bones of dearly departed bovines.

Yes, Boone had scattered cow bones and skulls throughout his 250-acre farm, lining fences, garages, and even old, dilapidated cars with the marrowless remnants. 

According to Deputy Habib, the cow remains were in place to discourage thieves from stepping foot on Boone's property.

It turned out to be just one of the many psychological scare tactics that Boone would use to keep unwanted visitors away.

Authorities say everyone who knows Boone feels one of two ways about him: they either love him immensely, or they fear every fiber of his being.

And that's just the way Boone likes it.

According to Deputy Habib, Boone had a pack of Rottweilers roaming his property in the 1980s, intended to keep intruders away.  But if someone were to ever dare to enter Boone's farm, they'd never hear the Rottweilers approaching -- because, it's believed, Boone had surgically sliced the dogs' vocal cords to keep their bloodlust silent. "They wouldn't make any noise at all. They could sneak up right behind you and grab ahold of you before you know it," says Habib.

The Marshals also tell us that some locals believed that in the height of their illicit enterprise, there used to be rattlesnakes tied to posts around the Cornbread Mafia's crops, used as a venomous deterrent to all would-be robbers and trespassers.

When the Marshals first entered Marion County and put up spontaneous, flash roadblocks in August 2008, they questioned every single person that drove by in an attempt to unearth Boone's current whereabouts.

Much to their dismay, not one subject was willing to talk about Boone's possible location, and some were unwilling to even acknowledge his existence at all -- even after Marshals publicly offered a substantial reward for any tips leading to Boone's capture.

Deputy Habib says that everyone who knows Boone, or just knows of him, consider him to be "the most intelligent individual you've ever met."

Boone's intelligence and allegiance run deep, and that, essentially, is what ingratiates himself with the members of his community.

"When we conducted interviews in the Springfield, Kentucky area, we received numerous comments on how popular he was," says Rich Knighten, Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal in the Western District of Kentucky.  "The things he did to support the community there --  things he did to help elderly...youth groups...church organizations -- he he was looked up to by a lot of people in that area," says Chief Deputy Knighten.

Much like Boone, those interviewed by the Marshals all subscribed to Boone's personal code of silence and in essence, have vowed not to rat on Johnny.  The more Boone helped out the local community over the years, the more the community gave back to him, through their tight-lipped approach to law enforcement whenever they came knocking at their proverbial doors.

It is this type of mindset the Marshals are trying to penetrate to track down the outlaw Johnny Boone.  But try as they might, "Omerta" prevails.

In a small, tight-knit community such as the one they've found in Lebanon, the Marshals say they stick out like sore thumbs, and Deputy Habib says their presence there makes some folks uneasy.

Now, the Marshals need America's help to infiltrate the former stomping grounds of the Cornbread Mafia and reveal John Robert Boone's true whereabouts.

All they say they need is one solid lead to put this "King of Pot" behind bars for the remainder of his heretofore legendary life.  If you know where he is, you've got to call our hotline right away at 1-800-CRIME-TV.

                                                -- By Justin Lenart, AMW Staff