Located in the upper northern part of the state, hugging the northeastern tip of Lake Ontario at the mouth of the St. Lawrence River, Watertown, New York, is just over two hundred miles—a 3½-hour drive—from Albany. A melting pot of mostly Irish, German, Italian and French immigrants, crime in Watertown is something residents worry little about. One murder in town per year is, generally, a shock to the nearly twenty thousand residents who call Watertown home.
As the fall of 1989 brought thousands of tourists from all over the Northeast to take in Watertown’s wonderful views of the foliage, Evans and Cuomo targeted the town as a candidate to do some business. An added bonus, it was almost as far away from Albany as one could get in the state, offering isolation, yet easy accessibility to the interstate.
One of Damien’s best friends had joined the military after high school and had been stationed at Fort Drum, an army base directly north of Watertown. The guy knew the area well. He called Damien one day and told him that there was a small coin and jewelry shop in downtown Watertown run by one man. It would possibly be an easy target to hit. The way Evans explained it later, Damien’s friend called and said, “I know of a perfect place for you to rob. There’s an old man there. No alarm system. He sleeps in the back on a cot with a gun.”
Indeed, sixty-three-year-old Douglas Berry, owner-operator of the Square Lion Coin and Jewelry, located in the center of downtown Watertown, directly across the street from Public Square, was an unassuming businessman who had opened the shop back in the mid-1970s with hopes of leading a quiet New England life. Berry couldn’t afford an alarm system, so he occasionally slept in what Evans called a “loft,” which was in the back of the shop, and, for protection, kept a handgun underneath his pillow. Berry had been married for what seemed like forever and lived in a small single-family home in town with his wife. Some who knew Berry spoke highly of him for the fact that he didn’t much bother anyone. He kept to himself and was, more than anything, determined to succeed in business. He worked long hours and often ran the shop by himself. At six feet two inches, about 225 pounds, Berry sported a thick shock of brown hair he kept greased back in a ’50s fashion.
Attached to a beam near the loft where Berry slept was a mirror. If he happened to hear something while in bed, he could look up at the mirror and see what was going on in his store without getting out of the loft.
When Cuomo heard about Berry’s shop, he immediately called Evans and, excited, told him about it. Evans liked the idea of the location and the accessibility. Berry not having an alarm system was, of course, also a plus.
Evans, however, was never one to take things at face value; he knew any job that sounded too good to be true probably was. “Let’s go up there,” he suggested to Cuomo, “and take a look before we do anything.”
Damien was, Evans admitted later, always ready to jump in the water without first getting his toes wet, whereas Evans liked to scope things out and take his time, making sure there were no obstacles in his way he couldn’t overcome. Contingencies meant getting caught. In this case particularly, Evans wanted to be certain the information they were getting was solid. More important, he wanted to be sure they weren’t being set up.
Throughout the summer, Evans and Damien drove to Watertown several times to check out the Square Lion. They had even walked into the shop and sold Berry a few pieces of gold they had stolen.
On the morning of September 7, 1989, they once again headed north to Watertown in Damien’s car to check out the Square Lion and bounce around town to see how things looked. For the hell of it, they brought along ski masks, a crowbar and two handguns, a .38-caliber pistol Cuomo always carried with him, and a .22 automatic Evans had at times packed.
Evans said later he made a point to bring along his .22 “because of the information we had gotten earlier [from Damien’s friend] about Berry possibly being armed.”
The Gary Evans motto: “Kill or be killed.”
Along the way, just outside of Watertown, Damien was stopped by a trooper for speeding. After getting a ticket, which “pissed him off,” Evans said, they pulled into the center of town and parked near the Square Lion.
Evans explained to Damien on the way up north that they would drift into town, park near the shop, and hang out across the street for a few hours so they could watch the place. Damien was a bit antsy to get the job done, but agreed.
While they were in town, Evans explained, Cuomo became “too anxious…pacing up and down the sidewalk, chain-smoking cigarettes.” Evans, who was methodical when it came to planning burglaries, tried calming him, he said, but it didn’t do much good.
“Let’s just sit and watch, Damien,” Evans said at one point. “Let’s see what kind of traffic goes in and out, and what kind of business this guy does.”
“I want to get this over with,” Cuomo said.
“Just fucking relax.”
Throughout the afternoon, they walked the streets of Watertown and got something to eat. It was a quiet town, for the most part. Evans liked that. It told him they could move around town stealthily without standing out. If they looked out of place for any reason, someone would remember them when it came time for the cops to interview people.
Evans later said that he and Damien, months before they went to Watertown to burglarize the Square Lion, came up with what would turn out to be a brilliant idea—that is, if one is a thief.
“Come on, Damien, we’re taking a drive up north.”
“Where we goin’?”
“Just get in the fucking truck and shut up.”
The Canadian border was about 240 miles northwest of Albany. In what turned out to be a three-hour trip, by the end of that morning they were inside the borders of Canada shopping at a local convenience store.
Damien bought Canadian cigarettes; Evans purchased snacks and several other items branded with Canadian price tags and bar codes.
“We’re going to need this stuff when we do that Watertown job,” Evans told Cuomo as they left the store. “Hang onto it. Don’t fucking lose it.”
Behind the Square Lion was a large parking lot, partially secluded. The entrance to the store was in front, on the first floor of the building, street level, leading out to the sidewalk. In back, there was a second-story picture window with two side windows that cranked open from inside. Berry’s loft was just inside the window to the right.
As night fell on Watertown on September 7, Evans took a look at the window and figured they could pry it open easily and probably get in without being seen or heard.
After casing the back of the shop, they took turns going into the store to check it out. Evans had even made it into the back room, where Berry had his loft, and saw the cot Berry slept on, he later admitted.
Undeniably, Damien’s informant had been spot on with his information, which pleased Evans considerably. He now believed for certain it wasn’t a setup.
Damien was an expert at scaling walls and getting into buildings through windows and small crevices. Evans assumed Damien could walk up the fire escape in the back of the shop, then crawl along the building, balancing himself on an electrical wire hugging the wall, until he reached the window. Once he shimmied the window open and got inside, Evans could climb up the same way and follow him in.
In the back of the building, just below the window, was an office, Bear Construction Company. It was around 4:30 P.M. when Evans and Cuomo began scheduling the break-in, they figured workers in the building would be gone by 5:00, 6:00 P.M. the latest. They also knew from Cuomo’s informant that Berry generally closed the shop at about 6:00 and retreated to his loft after getting dinner.
Sitting in Damien’s Fifth Avenue later that evening, parked in the back parking lot, waiting for Berry to lock down the shop and turn off the lights, Evans noticed something while staring at the building.
“What is it?” Cuomo asked as Evans went quiet.
“I bet that motherfucker won’t even lock the window.”