On a cold March morning in 2006, a construction worker’s jackhammer struck something that would crack open one of Missouri’s darkest unsolved mysteries. Beneath the crumbling concrete of the old Riverside Casino, workers uncovered what looked like a human body wrapped in plastic. Next to it was something no one expected to see again: an FBI badge.

Detective Vincent Caldwell was on site within minutes. As the remains were carefully lifted from the foundation, the badge confirmed what law enforcement had long feared—this was FBI Special Agent David Torino, missing since 1998. Torino had vanished while investigating mob ties and money laundering inside Missouri’s riverboat casinos. For eight years, his case was a haunting cold file, filled with theories but no answers. Now, suddenly, everything had changed.

The FBI agent’s disappearance had once shaken the law enforcement community. In September 1998, Torino was reportedly close to a breakthrough. He had developed informants inside casino operations and was preparing for a critical meeting with a high-level source. But on September 15, he walked into the Riverside Casino and never came out. His car was later found in the parking lot, but no body, no weapon, and no clear evidence of foul play were ever discovered—until now.

The construction records revealed a chilling detail. The very section of foundation where Torino’s body was hidden was poured on September 18, 1998, just three days after he vanished. Whoever killed him had access to the site and enough confidence to bury an FBI agent in plain sight, beneath the casino he was investigating.

Torino’s wallet was still in his jacket, complete with ID, credit cards, and cash. His service weapon, however, was missing. Preliminary examinations revealed signs he may have been restrained before death, pointing to a deliberate execution rather than a robbery. “This wasn’t about money,” the medical examiner noted. “This was about making him disappear.”

FBI Special Agent Rachel Martinez, who had worked the original case, arrived at the scene visibly shaken. “Eight years,” she said quietly, staring at the concrete pit. “We searched everywhere—except right under our noses.”

As the investigation reopened, old files painted a clearer picture of what Torino had been uncovering. Riverboat casinos like Riverside were perfect fronts for organized crime. Suspiciously large cash transactions were being funneled through casinos, washed clean through chips and checks, then sent back out through shell companies. Surveillance and financial records linked Riverside’s management to notorious crime families from Chicago and Kansas City.

At the center of it all was casino general manager Anthony Velasco, a man with deep ties to mob figures and unexplained wealth. Employees recalled private gaming rooms in the basement where outsiders were given unusual freedom, shielded from normal casino oversight. That basement, investigators realized, was just steps away from where Torino’s body was later found.

But there were other troubling connections. The casino’s security system had conveniently “malfunctioned” on the night Torino disappeared. The security chief at the time was Thomas Brennan—whose brother owned the construction company that poured the very foundation hiding Torino’s remains.

Torino’s fellow agent Lisa Chen, now retired, revealed another disturbing layer. She shared Torino’s private notes, which pointed to corruption far beyond the casinos. According to his files, mob-linked casino operations may have been shielded by bribed officials—including state regulators and even members of federal law enforcement. Torino had grown convinced that someone within his own agency was leaking information to the very people he was investigating.

In fact, his final notes referenced a shocking name: Judge Harold Morrison, the federal judge who would have overseen prosecutions tied to the casino cases. Morrison died in 2004, but if Torino’s suspicions were correct, his influence might have protected the network from the inside.

By the time Torino vanished, the FBI investigation collapsed. Informants disappeared or died, suspicious financial activity suddenly stopped, and casino ownership quietly changed hands. Without a body or concrete evidence, the case was downgraded to a missing person’s file. For eight years, the truth lay literally buried in concrete.

Now, with Torino’s remains unearthed, investigators face an even bigger challenge: untangling a conspiracy that may stretch from mob bosses to corporate executives to corrupt officials. Whoever orchestrated his death had the power to silence an FBI agent and bury him beneath a multimillion-dollar casino—without fear of discovery.

For Detective Caldwell and Special Agent Martinez, the discovery isn’t closure. It’s a beginning. The murder of Agent Torino is now an active homicide investigation, one that reopens the wounds of a case many thought was sealed forever. The question is no longer whether David Torino was killed—it’s who had the power to kill an FBI agent and get away with it.

And as the lights of the riverboat casinos glittered across the Missouri River that night, one thing became clear: the secrets buried beneath the Riverside Casino were never meant to see daylight. But now they have. And someone is about to answer for them.