Conspiracies, Murder for Hire, Selling Paroles and Bingta Francke?

Posted: August 10, 2009 in Francke Case
Awhile back I received the following email. I’m sharing it for the "Bingta Factor" mostly. Quite frankly the woman disgusts me, and aside from all the standard conspiracy theories that have been tossed around, if there’s anyone who had means, motive, and opportunity to kill Michael Francke or have him killed, it was Bingta Francke. Cops always suspect the spouse first, so why the lame investigation of Bingta?
Kevin Francke would most likely agree with me. He despises the woman, and with good reason. She collected nearly $1 million in life insurance and ran off to California without a care in the world as to who may have killed her husband and not allowing the Francke family access to any personal effects of Mike’s that should’ve remained with the family.
Then there was the $90,000 in widow’s insurance benefits (unsure if related to life insurance mentioned above) that she collected after remarrying (twice) and was charged with theft for. Here’s a link to that story…
Here’s the email. Alert freefrankgable site visitors might even guess who the author is.

January 17, 1989

January 17, 1989, was a cold and miserable night. It rained, periodically, because that is what happens in Salem, Oregon, in the middle of Winter. Somewhere between 6:45pm and midnight, depending on who’s lies you wish to listen to, Michael Francke was stabbed to death by an, as yet, unknown assailant or assailants. Normally, such a murder might have garnered two days’ worth of publicity on the front page before being relegated a less judicial spot somewhere within the confines of the newspaper. Normally.

Michael Francke’s murder was not your run-of-the-mill killing. You see, Mike was the man in charge of the entire prison system. As a man in charge of an entire arm of the State government, Michael Francke’s murder would be much talked about, and much publicized, for way longer than a meager two days. But there was a lot more to this story than simply the fact that a state employee was murdered. Oh, no, much more.
You see, there was this little thing about a major prison scandal that made headlines for months back in 1986 (A year before the Francke murder). The shock that prison corruption had made the news was no big deal. Hell, everybody and their dog had known about corruption in the hierarchy in, and around, Salem. The big story was that the top bananas had been implicated. That was, practically, unheard of in those days.
1986 Newspaper reporting was about to take a turn. Instead of publicizing stories about how some low-ranking prison guard was smuggling contraband, we were hearing stories about how top Administrators were engaged in illegal activities. Oops! Corruption, and rumors of corruption, in the administration of a State agency was more than Governor Neil Goldschmidt cared to have exposed. It put pressure on him to go outside the “inner circle” to get a new Head of Corrections. And that was how Goldschmidt came to appoint an “outsider” from New Mexico, Mr. Michael Francke. Well, not entirely true. You see, there was a little thing with the mob.
Following the corruption scandal of 1986, Governor Goldschmidt had to eliminate as much public scrutiny as possible. To do this, he needed to import a new face to run the Department of Corrections. Neil’s mob associates suggested Michael Francke. And, in 1987, Mike was given the post. How, precisely, did the mob know who to recommend for the job? In a word: Bingta.
Before he was married, Michael Francke used to hang out in a little café down Santa Fe way. This fact was quickly noticed by mob recruiters who were always on the lookout for ways to infiltrate the top government officials. And they were, especially, keen on getting men in key positions in the field of Corrections. After all, if you are employed in rackets that may get you prison time, it doesn’t hurt to have the warden in your pocket. So New York sends a pretty young filly named Bingta, to bus tables in this little café where a lonely guy named Mike likes to hang out. She bats her eyes, flaunts her wares, and the next thing you know, she’s Mrs. Francke. Classic.
Bingta longs for the excitement and glamour of New York. But, of course, Michael does not wish to go there. To Bingta, Mike is a stuffed shirt and, worse than that, a bore. A riff develops between them. The mob sensing that they are losing the upperhand, arranges for Michael to be given the Oregon job and the not-so-happy couple moves. When Mike gets to Oregon, he is confronted with the news of the recent prison scandal. He is curious and begins to look at everyone around him with suspicion. He learns a few things which really arouse him. Nonetheless, he has a job to do.
Goldschmidt puts pressure on Mike to build more and more prisons. More prisons mean more beds. More beds mean more money for Neil and his mob friends to steal. Neil, the itinerant, if not vigilant, Jew, was brokering a deal to increase his own net worth while, rather stupidly, trying to get Mike to build. Michael Francke tried his best to comply with Neil’s wishes. But he did not have enough funding with which to complete the task. You see, Neil and associates could not stop stealing long enough for Mike to finish the job. Then, in the ultimate display of nonsensical arrogance, Neil insists that Mike pare costs. It was the ultimate blunder.

In order to pare costs, Mike needed to audit the books. Oh my God, Neil, what were you thinking? Audit the books? Jesus! Where Neil goofed was in assuming that the top brass only gave the orders. Neil was not expecting Mike to be doing the job that David Caulley was being paid to do. Neil expected Mike to order David to audit his own books and report to Mike any places where costs might be pared. Mercy. Mike looked at the books and, almost immediately, began to notice things that were not right. For instance, the funds from prison accounts were being directed through the State Mental Hospital. It was a convenient scheme wherein the head of the Hospital had the power to write checks to anybody for anything. Not only could he do that for mental patients but, by running the prison accounts through there, he could use those funds, too.

Mike dug deeper and found more disturbing facts. There existed accounts with dummy corporations, accounts to people for services not rendered, payments for goods not received, etc., etc. It was all a very lucrative business enterprise that owed its existence to Neil Goldschmidt and company. (We shall get to that later). Another thing that Mike probably discovered were paroles for sale and murder for hire. One of the proofs that paroles were up for sale came in the early 1970s when the Parole Board released a killer/cannibal named Richard Marquette. Richard had killed women in Portland and chopped them up to put in his freezer for later consumption.

Michael was curious. How could the Board justify releasing a man who enjoyed killing? And Marquette served less than seven years for each of his victims. How could three of five members (the minimum required for parole) justify releasing Richard? Incidentally, Richard Marquette went on a murder spree within hours of his release. That shouldn’t surprise anyone as we all knew it was inevitable.

Another problem Mike was grappling with was the very idea that murderers could walk in and out of prison almost at will. In those days, there was a prison gift shop outside the prison. It was a place where the public could go to buy items made by (select) prisoners. It was cozy. Too cozy. No, Mike did not have a problem with prisoners running the gift shop. Nor was the concept of a gift shop evoking any disturbing thoughts.
What was bothering Michael was the fact that Lifers (killers) were the only ones being allowed to run it. In other words, if the Warden, or other top official, wanted a killer out, day or night, all they had to do was to pick up a telephone. Rumors that men were being released to party over at the Warden’s house repulsed Mike. And the possibility that murderers might be getting out just long enough to kill people, was even more disturbing. Murder for hire?

Mike had no choice but to report what he had found out. What he did not, and could not, know was that the very people he was reporting this stuff to, were in on it. He was a sitting duck.

Michael Francke was set to appear in front of a legislative session on January 18, 1989. He spent a sizeable portion of January 17, 1989, rounding up files, gathering tapes, and preparing for that Hearing. As we all know, he never made it to that meeting. Nor did his evidence. But the Conspiracy was just getting started.

  1. Ex-Salem says:

    It is hard to know what to believe and what is B.S. Yeah, people will lie to you and tweekers will spin the most outrageous stories. And then you have the people that claim they are taping mine and probably your phones because of who we associate with.Damn! It is just a matter of time before all of us need a ‘tin-foil’ helmet. Thank God my windows don’t open!

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