Dimorio McDowell transformed his prison cell into a business office with nothing but a mobile phone and a lot of chutzpa.

From 7 a.m. until midnight, seven days a week, McDowell worked tirelessly building a Cleveland criminal enterprise that did up to $1 million worth of work.

Want a jumbo flat-screen, but don't have $2,000?

McDowell and his unsavory team of Cleveland shoppers could fetch a 55-inch TV and anything else you wanted -- stainless steel refrigerator, hardwood flooring, laptop computer -- for half the store price.

Just give them a few days. McDowell was serving time for credit card fraud at Fort Dix federal prison in New Jersey. But one of his associates would meet you at a Cleveland gas station with the loot.

Incarceration in the largest U.S. prison was doing nothing to slow down McDowell's life of crime. Then, in October 2009, McDowell accidentally tripped across the path of a small-town Summit County cop.

Soon, the master con -- who slipped in and out of others' identities more often than most people change underwear -- was nabbed in his own skin.

This is a story about how Bath Township police Detective Dan Lance turned a theft from a local Lowe's store into a major fraud investigation involving the U.S. Justice Department.

The case ultimately smashed an organized retail theft ring that preyed on big-box stores across Northeast Ohio and revealed how much damage a flimflam man can do with a phone, determination and years with nothing to do but steal.

Court records, interviews with police, the FBI, state and federal prosecutors and a victim show how the scheme unraveled.

Shopping spree

Jay Paul Williams, with a scribbled shopping list in hand, darted up and down the aisles of Lowe's in Bath Township on Oct. 14, 2009, on a mad spending jag most homeowners could only dream of:

Refrigerator, washer, dryer, microwave, stove, table, chairs, lamp, pedestals, cords, packages of Lysol, Oust and Pledge, floodlights, conduits, screws and dozens of other useful doodads.

He wheeled into checkout just before closing.

The bill was about $14,000 -- nowhere near the $20,000 limit on the credit card he was using -- so Williams tossed eight $500 Lowe's gift certificates onto the credit card tab, too, signed the bill and headed for the door.

McDowell -- who has a deep baritone voice -- was impersonating a woman as he talked to a credit card company.

It was an excruciatingly bad performance, but the call taker didn't question it. Other times, McDowell chatted with the same credit card call taker for a half-hour, walking away with the Social Security numbers of 10 people.

"I can't believe how easy it is for this guy to manipulate the system," Lance said. "They are just so willing to regurgitate information."

While investigators listened to McDowell feed account information to his shopping crews in Cleveland, two surveillance teams -- one for east of Cleveland, one for west -- waited, ready to fan out.

When investigators heard a shopping team was on its way to a Best Buy or Home Depot, for example, each surveillance team headed out, hoping the wiretap would soon reveal more clues about which suburban store the shopping team was targeting.

If they couldn't make it there before the thieves set up, investigators called the store and warned employees to freeze the credit card accounts of the people about to come in.

They knew it wouldn't spook the crooks. Members of the theft ring knew each fake account had a limited life. They just moved on and tried another credit card at another store.

Investigators also called the stores where surveillance teams arrived before the shoppers. They asked employees to let the fraudulent transactions go through so investigators could follow the players.

Usually, after the rental truck was loaded, a member of the theft ring -- often Reese -- drove the merchandise to a nearby gas station. There, he met black market customers who pre-ordered specific computers, TVs and other items.

The customers paid Reese 50 percent of the store prices on the items. Any merchandise left -- shoppers were instructed to max out a credit card even if their shopping list was short -- was taken to a warehouse on Ivanhoe Road in Cleveland.

Two weeks after they started listening, investigators had what they needed.

An uncertain future

Officials searched McDowell's prison cell in late March or early April and found three mobile phones and three notebooks filled with people's names, credit card account numbers and Social Security numbers.

The wiretap only targeted one of McDowell's phones, so it's unclear how he used the others.

McDowell, Reese, Williams and six others were indicted by a federal grand jury on a slew of fraud charges. More than a half-dozen others were charged with lesser crimes in state court.

Except for Williams, most were repeat offenders. Police were familiar with some. When Mentor Detective Zigman walked into federal court, for example, he recognized Michael Sailes.

"I see you've changed your employment," Zigman said.

A decade ago, Sailes and a group of Cleveland-area residents were convicted on federal charges for robbing jewelry stores in five states and making off with more than $1.2 million in gems.

Many of the others charged as part of the theft ring were convicted drug dealers.

Lance suspects they considered organized retail theft a "safer" crime than drugs since guns and violence are rarely involved. And unless someone like Lance connects the dots, penalties for a simple theft are often less severe than for drug crimes.

Reese, it turned out, was McDowell's street manager in Northeast Ohio. Although he's not sure how, Lance figures the two somehow met through prison.

Both men pleaded guilty late last year to wire fraud and identity theft charges. Reese was sentenced to nearly 12 years in prison.

And a judge earlier this year sentenced McDowell to an additional 14 years behind bars.

They were ordered to pay more than $255,000 in restitution.

Lance said he wants credit card companies to use this case as a tool to teach their call takers how to detect and prevent fraud.

Is McDowell's con over?

Lance pauses and said he hopes so.

Prosecutors asked prisons to label McDowell a "serious telephone abuser," a title that will limit his use of prison pay phones.

But thousands of smuggled mobile phones pour into prisons each year. And, even without a mobile phone, McDowell proved last year he can do damage.

After federal authorities brought McDowell to Ohio to face charges involving the theft ring, they housed him in the Lake County jail.

There, McDowell continued his fraud. When authorities suspected it, they searched his cell and found a six-page spreadsheet containing credit card information, a packet of receipts, canceled checks, bank statements and credit-card images.

Jailers increased security, but it didn't help.

McDowell used the jail's pay phones to contact sheriff's sergeants, lieutenants and captains.

What was McDowell up to?

He pretended to be an official with the U.S. Marshal's service and ordered himself transferred to another facility -- perhaps one with easier access to phones.

Plain Dealer News Researcher Joellen Corrigan and Data Analysis Editor Rich Exner contributed to this report.