Collins jury says it is deadlocked, to try again today

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The five-man, four-woman jury had only been deliberating 90 minutes when it sent word of its trouble.

Five former gamblers have sued Collins and his company to recover more than $33,000 in gambling losses, alleging players were routinely paid more than the legal daily limit of $125 from Collins machines before video gambling was banned from the state in July 2000.

The trial began two weeks ago and has included testimony from former Gov. David Beasley, psychologists, former gamblers and Collins in a case that started six years ago.

Collins, a 68-year-old Greenville businessman, has denied any wrongdoing, as has his company, which he owns. He was the largest video gambling operator in South Carolina when the $3 billion industry died in 2000.

After acknowledging the jury's note, Anderson gave the jury a standard request to try harder and excused the panel until 9:30 this morning.

"I'm just not inclined to give up after two weeks in a case that's taken this long to try," Anderson told the lawyers outside the jury's presence.

The jury spent the day listening to closing arguments and Anderson's legal instructions.

At stake are not just the gamblers' claims of losses, which can be tripled under the law, but lawyers' fees, which are expected to top $1 million. A ruling against Collins also could impact his gambling licenses in other states.

Earlier Monday, both sides used closing arguments to accuse the other of misstating the facts and twisting evidence to suit their needs, prompting objections and intervention by Anderson, who called the trial a "tough, hard-fought case."

"We're dealing with a company that engaged in an illegal gambling business," plaintiffs' lawyer Carl Solomon told the jury, asking it to "teach Mr. Collins a lesson" about the truth.

Tod Sawicki, one of Collin's lawyers, told the jury that the plaintiff's case amounted to a "big grandstand and show."

He repeatedly attacked the gamblers, not only for what he described as flimsy evidence of their losses, but also for not taking responsibility for losing their money.

"They have suffered self-inflicted wounds and you as a jury have no duty to reward them," he said.

He also criticized the plaintiffs for not always being present in the trial. Three of the plaintiffs listened to the closing arguments Monday. One of the plaintiffs said last week her children were seriously ill.

The gamblers have alleged receiving and witnessing illegal payouts from Collins machines, which operated in 1,200 convenience stores, bars, casinos and other locations. They testified they were lured by big jackpots.

A former Collins worker also testified to witnessing illegal payouts. Sawicki branded him Monday as a "disgruntled employee."

Collins' defense has attacked the credibility of the plaintiffs, especially their damage claims, much of which were drawn from memory.

The players all gambled before they ever visited a Collins machine and played other machines at the same time, making it difficult to believe Collins' machines could have caused any of their problems, Sawicki told the jury.

He said Collins and his company abided by the law "at all times," placing stickers about the law on each machine, training store employees and requiring store officials to promise to follow the law.

"It seems to Mr. Collins that this case is nothing more than one last gamble on video poker," he told jurors.

The plaintiffs' lawyers portrayed their case Monday as one of the "little people" up against the rich and powerful. They accented that point by reminding the jury of the $1.3 million salary Collins paid himself in 1993.

Collins' explanations in the trial, Solomon repeatedly told the jury, "defies reason."

He poked at Collins officials' testimony that they did not check the paper slips signed by players for their winnings because such verification would cost too much. Solomon said relying on machine meters, which only register what a player has won and not what he has been paid, would cost Collins millions of dollars each year.

"It makes no business sense," he said. "It's not true."

He said gamblers were lured to the machines by jackpots, pointing to a letter by Collins in 1996 to a machine maker in which he said his company had to increase jackpots to induce players.

"Common sense tells you that you don't put a thousand dollars in a machine to get $125," he told jurors.