By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
Maybe someone will get a trip to Brazil out of it.
Simmons knows Havard had to be the one who got the police on his tail. But he didn't know until recently that his former friend had been charged with selling GHB and running a counterfeiting ring. Simmons shakes his head.
"I thought he was smarter than that," Simmons says. "He should have learned from me. I know his mentality. He was feeling invincible."
A year ago, Simmons pleaded guilty to aggravated robbery, even though his court-appointed attorney, Andrew Farkas, was convinced he'd be acquitted for lack of evidence. But Simmons, who fired Farkas and hired a lawyer, had grown tired of the way he was living. He'd started using his own product; his girlfriend had moved out because of his temper.
"I had a guilty conscience," he says. "I hit the guy. It was the first time I'd ever really hurt someone. I felt I deserved to be punished."
Simmons will be out of the penitentiary in a few years. The man who studied his every move, however, is facing decades in prison if he's convicted, and his legend continues to grow. From behind the glass screen, Simmons laughs, remembering how he and his former "student" joked about going to China for some egg foo yong. "He messed up for real," Simmons says. "He just wanted to be somebody he wasn't."