Serious fishing

Bass fishermen tend to be pretty fanatical about their sport. A perfect example from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch:

Missouri fisherman's cheating charge makes him an outcast
Back before he was accused of cheating in the bass fishing tournament, before police caught him in an elaborate sting, Gary Lee Jones would drop by Buck's Outboard Motors shop almost every morning. He'd grab some coffee, sit down at the green picnic table with the other regulars, and talk fishing.

Jones, 60, is an avid angler. A divorc� with no family nearby, he sometimes stayed at the shop for hours. He had friends here. So when he placed second in a fishing tournament two weeks ago, the regulars expected he would show up the next morning to crow about it, just as he did after a win the week before.

But his moment of triumph � his trophy plaque and $886 � was the one that got away. He left the winner's circle that day in handcuffs, facing a felony count of theft by deception. Fishermen at the boat ramp cheered his arrest. Others were moved to anger. Fishermen can forgive all kinds of transgressions, but not cheating.

"What he did, he did to every fisherman. It's like a brotherhood," said Skeeter Law, owner of the boat shop frequented by Jones. "He's done lost any kind of trust that he had."

It was not only trust. In that instant, Jones lost more than he could have imagined.

The sting:

It started with a tip. A fisherman and his son told police they had seen Jones on the lake on Saturday, April 28, the day before the tournament. Many fishermen make practice runs. But Jones spent his time next to a floating duck blind, raising officers' suspicions.

Just before dusk, after the lake was clear, state conservation agent Mic Plunkett and a state water patrol officer set out in a boat to investigate. They found two live bass with red nylon cords looped through their mouths and tied to the duck blind, Plunkett said. They marked the fish, with Plunkett punching a tiny hole in one fin on each bass. They formed a plan, but they needed to hurry.

At 6 a.m. the next day, the 2007 Angler's Choice/Bass Quest Tournament kicked off.

Thirty-eight boats pushed off into Lake Wappapello, a sprawling man-made lake. Everyone fished in pairs, except for Jones. He told organizers his daughter was unable to make it.

Jones headed for the duck blind cove in his red Ranger bass boat and waited until the other competitors had cleared out, according to authorities.

Plunkett and Jeff Johnson of the water patrol, dressed in camouflage, waited on shore about 60 feet away. Plunkett lay behind a log with a video camera � also camouflaged � poking over the top.

They watched as Jones reached into the water, pulled up the bass, cut the line and placed the fish in his boat's aerated holding tank, according to Plunkett.

At the official weigh-in that afternoon, Jones turned in four bass for a total of 11.55 pounds � good enough for second place. He also had a single five-pound fish to take third in the Biggest Bass category. Jones was awarded a silver trophy plaque and his check. Organizers snapped his photo while authorities inspected Jones' catch. They found the marked fish.

And the upshot:

Jones is no longer welcome at Buck's shop. The folks at Dennis Outdoors down the road don't want to see him either. "I know all the dealers in town, and they say they won't sell to him," Law said. "I hate to say it, but he's been blackballed."

Jones declined, through his attorney, to comment. He seems to have moved out of his house in Poplar Bluff. When people run into him at the gas station or a restaurant, they say Jones refuses to make eye contact. He makes a quick exit through another door.

"Nobody wants to claim to even know him.," said D.J. Ellis, a regular at Buck's who has known Jones for years. "He's ashamed of himself, I guess."

And the guy could fish -- he just wanted to win a little too hard and is paying the price for it.