It Could Happen To You, Two Warn -- Scam Victims Tell How Suspect Won Their Trust

He called himself John Petrini. He wore a white trench coat and dark sunglasses. He was charming and loose, and afternoons he hung out at Kells Irish Restaurant and Pub on Post Alley spending freely - tipping big, buying drinks, doling out dollars as if it were Christmas. He knew everybody by name.

Folks at Kells say they should have known the pieces didn't fit. "Twenty-dollar cigars and the cheapest liquor you've ever seen," said Patrick McAleese, son of the restaurant's owner, shaking his head.

John Petrini, a k a Gus Stanos, a k a N.J. Mehas, a k a Alex Pappas, was arrested this week and charged with first-degree theft - under his real name: Nickolas John Kasemehas.

He is charged with conning Joe McAleese, owner of Kells, out of $10,000, and was arrested by Seattle Police this week after allegedly conning a woman out of $2,800.

As far-fetched as most cons sound in print, fraud experts say the perpetrators are so rehearsed, so adept at living lies, they can make a victim of almost anyone. "They're good," said Seattle Police Detective John Kristof. "They're good."

For most con artists, it's more than the money, Kristof said. It's living the life.

Kasemehas reportedly lived large. But his bail is even larger: $1 million.

His rap sheet dates back to 1962. The latest entry began one March afternoon.

Five-foot-nine, 175 pounds, with brown hair, brown eyes and a charming smile, Kasemehas, 56, sauntered into Kells, saying he was new to the neighborhood, having just moved into a Belltown condo.

What he didn't tell the McAleeses was that his previous addresses included rooms at Shelton, San Quentin and Joliet prisons. No stranger to Seattle, Kasemehas was convicted here on several counts of first-degree theft in 1989 and 1992.

Kasemehas would follow Patrick, his father, Joe, and others around the bar, talking about the money he'd made from property deals, flashing cash and buying rounds for his fellow patrons and new-found friends.

"You thought, `I've met a friend,' " said Patrick McAleese, whom Kasemehas once gave $100 for concert tickets.

Kasemehas won his way into the hearts of the McAleeses in four days. They said he shared his stories of hardship, the difficulties he had overcome. He wept on their shoulders for his wife killed by a drunken driver nine years earlier.

"He had a tear in his eye when he spoke to me," said Joe McAleese. "I felt sorry for him."

He also listened to their problems and offered help. So when Kasemehas started talking about an investment - gold coins at reduced prices - they were intrigued.

Patrick declined, Joe did not. At 10 a.m. on Monday, March 31, they met. With $10,000 cash, Joe McAleese picked up Kasemehas at the Rainier Club.

They drove to a bank at Second Avenue and Marion Street, where Kasemehas asked Joe McAleese to wait in the car. He'd pop into the bank to get the coins out of a safe-deposit box and be right back.

Joe McAleese never saw his new friend - or his money - again.

McAleese wasn't the only one reportedly betrayed. Kasemehas was arrested after allegedly running the same scam on Kelsey Hildahl.

Hildahl said Kasemehas' story was so assured that she had trouble believing she'd been scammed, even after she lost her $2,800. "I have a master's degree (in counseling psychology)," she said. "I don't fall for scams. At least I didn't think I would . . . it's devastating."

Kyle Johnson, a friend and attorney, said Hildahl is no fool. "She's a very smart lady . . . this guy knew what he was doing."

Hildahl was working at the downtown Leo Melina restaurant Wednesday night when Kasemehas dropped in. She thought him suave. He told her he was part owner of the San Diego Chargers football team, and he dropped names and $20 bills on everyone who served him.

For two hours they chatted, Kasemehas winning Hildahl's confidence before reportedly offering her a deal on gold coins. Like McAleese, she met him in the morning, cash in hand. This time Kasemehas went to a bank at Second Avenue and Madison Street. Hildahl waited. Forty minutes.

He was gone. But she wouldn't let go.

She went looking for Kasemehas - and found him, after checking a dozen bars, at a lounge on Lake Union. She called police, who arrested Kasemehas but not without a 15-minute struggle in which two officers were injured.

Just before police arrived, Kasemehas had allegedly been telling the bartender how he'd recently sold 15 McDonald's restaurants. When arrested, he had $5,595 in his pockets.

Kristof said such cases represent one of the worst kinds of cons: "You've let somebody into your life. Trusted them with your innermost thoughts, goals and fears. Then to have this happen to you, it's more than even a loss of trust, it's a loss of faith."