Chapter 15 - the Dam
My strategy with the old lady? I admit, it was weak and not well thought out. I could in all probability linger in this zone practically forever. Friends with the ugly but cute little dog, Sogger. Go fishing which I admit is quite a relaxing activity, glad I did it. I'll do it again, anything that relaxes and makes me feel better, and doesn't remind of you know what when I say bathroom?
Hey, therapy is therapy. Shoot up some happy juice once a week, sometimes a little top up if necessary for a situation or two. Some fishing, and some dog friend time? Is giving me an excuse to be physically near, and walking the dog in, my target property. I mean, I admit I have no idea what the next step even is, but... I'm near the place. I always have a chance.
Most companies you can type the name in on the internet? And see all kinds of dot com bullshit. Not this company, not a peep online. Automatic stuff only, from existing. The bare minimum online, to even call it a bare footprint on the information super highway.
Even if I get nothing? I ain't out anything, either. Breaking in even as a worst case scenario? I couldn't say no, to that. Little Sogger grew on me, too. I won't lie. I actually felt a little guilty, using the little guy like I was. I actually liked him, and felt like I developed a relationship with him. I know, I anthropomorphize him too much in this situation. Whatever.
The carp secret dough ball bait? Worked, and more often than not. She put some fish away for herself and the dog, then started freezing it and giving it to me. Another tidbit, old timers are full of them.
"You ever get fish, out of someone's freezer? Wonder why its in dirty looking water. Frozen. It'll be labeled all careful, how could they be that careful about everything else, and... dirty water for the freezing."
I thought about it. This tickled brain cells.
"Got a buddy. Used to fish with him, when we were teenagers. He used to save the water you caught it in, to freeze them in. Said he admitted it, he didn't know exactly why, something to do with they taste better. But, he did it? And it either worked or didn't hurt."
She nodded her head.
"He heard right, just not why. No one knows why. But, it was old timer's wisdom. Freeze the fish in the water it was caught in. Something about the fish meat, the level of something in the water. They match up, the fish lasts longer, tastes better frozen. Supposedly? A thing. I admit, nothing scientific on it."
"I'm sitting here. My gut, just stuffed with the carp nuggets... I gotta buy you a bottle of ketchup, I feel guilty using all yours. But? I gotta say it. I wouldn't have believed it was carp, if you just handed me the stuff. I admit that. So, based on that track record and all. If you think the water freezing trick might hold water? I'll start trying it. I'll try freezing two catfish. One, river water. The other in tap water. Test."
"And your carp test?"
"Oh. The, uh, carp test. It needs further, uh, testing? But, all looking good so far."
She chuckled.
"I've had people love it, eating it. Then ask about eating carp? They go nuts, making fun of me for suggesting it. I just sit there and smile... and when I hand out the big whale tail breaded fish sandwiches, around lent and good Friday. Mine? Always bigger."
"Where do you get carp, if you don't fish."
She smiled.
"Buddies of his? He used to go and fish with. I saw one go by, and told him I miss the fish, with him gone. Did he want his carp. He laughed, said he would give me his carp, when he gets some. He does a lot of lure fishing. He brings me one now and again. Basically, he said if he ends up with a carp on a worm, which happens... its mine. Its an accident for him, and yeah. He remembers my husband, raving about breaded carp. I guess he never tried it."
I gushed a little, like I always did.
"I mean. If it had been edible. But, weird in some way? I'd have had an easier time believing, that was carp I ate. I mean, I damn near had to see you clean it and cook with it, to believe it."
"Like I tell you. Everything you hear about carp? Is all... modern, stuff. Historically? Wonderful eating fish. Catfish of its day, I'd say. Yeah. Catfish? Replaces it, as the popular eating fish."
I was still in the mode.
"I mean, if I didn't by law have to say the word... carp? I could grind up fishcakes of this, and sell it."
She old lady tittered.
"You know what else its in? Right in the ingredients. Now. Ingredients? The first ingredient, is the most of that. The last ingredient? Weighs the least. Guess what the first ingredient in Gefilte fish is."
"Carp?"
"Winner, winner, chicken dinner. If you like pickled things in general? Like, pickled eggs and pickled pigs feet. You'll love Gefilte fish. Its mostly carp cut up in little cubes. Pickled, instead of pickled eggs. Spices are different, but its the same vinegar pickling process as you use on the eggs."
My noggin was jogging.
"You mean, if I caught too many carp. You, could can them or pickle them in jars, or something?"
"My husband canned deer meat, pig meat, vegetables... he pickled stuff, most people wouldn't pickle. But he did canned meat of several kinds, and pickled meat and fish. He made, of all things? Carp jerky, and was always working on spices and rubs and marinades for it. He used to take the dried out carp jerky? Dry it out too much, then grind it up, wholesale. Mixed it with things. Like, berries and other things, like white chocolate chips, bacon fat, all kinds of stuff went in there as he experimented. He ate all his experiments. Took a bag of the cakes fishing. He joked, it was his survival food. For if he couldn't catch fish in the apocalypse, to support us."
I mused on it.
"What was the coolest thing he made with the carp meat."
I saw her reflect, tapping her index finger for inspiration on her chin.
"Maybe... the smoked carp."
"Smoked carp?"
"Smoked carp. Like... smoked salmon? Same thing, but with carp. Its not as good as real salmon? Pretty good, though. And, you get a bunch of guys catching carp and will give them to you... well... its a bonanza. If you liked the way you tried it up until now? Wait until you try smoked carp."
"I can't wait."
When I was younger, sure. I thought I wanted to try to impress people, get into social circle... X. As an adult? Nope. I lost that. Going fishing with little Sogger? Surprisingly therapeutic. Never would have guessed that going fishing with some random dead guy's dog would work half as good as happy juice? But hey, that's how it is. I lost my future wife. Dog lost his dog daddy. Maybe we sniffed it in each other, that we needed each other. Something primal, mammal. Human beings remind sociologists of nothing so much as two things. A pack of primates? And a pack of wild dogs.
A lot of human behavior is primate behavior. And what isn't exclusively primate? Is usually mammal and dog pack specific.
When the dam broke? It just broke. No warning or pretext. It, just happened. She was talking about her son and her daughter. Next thing I knew? The target property got mentioned. Seems her daughter, when she was young, used to date one of them. One of that big family that owned the Quality Coin and whatever else they were enterprising about.
See, its a rule with old ladies. You ask them about something? You might get a response, you might not. But everyone else will hear of your interest in the subject, regardless. Now. You wait for an old lady to bring the gossip up? You, are off the hook.
But then she briefly mentioned her and her husband meeting and dating. She got off of that subject quick, and it was her son. Some gab about him dating before going off to college and... now with his own life out there somewhere. But it was just a prelude. The daughter, his sister? Dated one of the Quality Coin boys.
Now, that was a subject to land on. I almost choked on my coffee. I had to maintain my composure. The old lady stopped, and peered at me. Was I all right? Oh, I'm fine. Little dizzy spell, you make me laugh too much is what does it. And I launched right into asking polite follow up questions about the daughter dating one of the Quality Coin boys.
Sexual specifics? I could care less about. I profit nothing from knowing which of her daughter's three holes fell prey to the little boy's teenage prick. Like I even give a shit what the kid's name was, I'm just noodling around, sucking up info on my target finally.
To stay on topic? I made little jokes and was as entertaining and silly as I could be. Making one of the little jokes or cracking a new one in the theme, allowed me to stay on the subject. A joke, and there we were, back onto the topic of the daughter's failed relationship.
The family got described to me. Big family. Lots of properties and business ventures around town. They ranged in personality, from perfectly sweet to perfect asshole. Because the family overall was important, the kids all grew up entitled and spoiled for the most part.
The daughter's story, told hearsay through the mother's conversation. Decent looking, and more importantly decent acting boy she dated. One of the nicer ones. In the end? Even he had a touch of what they all had. Which I found an odd way to put it? But, that's how she said it. I politely urged her on, and I got it out of her.
There are important families in every town, its inevitable. And yeah, the family takes advantage. An otherwise normal asshole teenager? Can be a little monster when they come from an important family like this. Police have their hands tied, no one can do anything.
Now, the money and influence? Is one thing. Any successful business owner, gets that. They were violent, too. The young men in that family, would all group up and beat up a single person one of them had a problem with. They never seemed to really get into any serious legal trouble, either.
Sometimes they beat up the stereotypical wrong guy, and several of his buddies came around looking to spread sunshine around in the same fashion. The Quality Coin was not being indicted by this old lady for being rich and influential. That's understandable. The old lady can also appreciate, some families fight more than others. Again, its understandable.
But, both together? She called it "little mafia". Not real mafia, like on TV mind you. But, the local version of the same thing. And her daughter and her fling with the reportedly handsome boy from the well to do family in town? Well. In the end. As nice as the boy dressed and spoke. As nice of grades as he got, planning to go to college. As much as he didn't seem to be mean and violent like some of the others?
In the end, he was. He just hid it more. She found out he had gone and participated in one of those couple on one fights, and really put a job on the guy. He finally backhanded her, hard out of nowhere one day. She didn't think the argument was that serious, but that's how that went.
"No, she came to me that night. He seemed like such a nice boy. Smart, polite. Even he was violent. She asked me, if her father ever slapped me before. I told her. Once. We were young, we were arguing, we were drunk. We were both yelling hateful shit. But, just the once. And right after it happened? My husband went crazy over I got hit, and it never happened again."
"How did she describe it."
"Similar thing how it happened? Then, it was basically her fault for arguing with him. I told her, what. He's telling you, it happens when you argue with him, basically. He's saying its your fault. So? They broke up. And good riddance. Once you see some of the trouble those boys in that family get up to? Its just as well."
To me? This was all solid gold. I fetched her coffee, I got her anything to continue things. After my target of information was passed over? I was still so happy, I engaged her in all that unrelated talk as well.
I was somewhat excited to report back to my pet investigator with everything I had learned. Every second of old lady conversations had been on a little quality digital recorder, and I had the pay dirt conversation as well as the others. I had that signature pride that only comes from being an amateur in a new game and you pull off a good one.
He liked it though, I wasn't wrong. I got the grin back, that might mean anything. He started, now that I seemed done.
"Most people ruin things right up front. I don't. When I review? I was taught to list everything I do like, first. Then? I point out the faults. So, lets start there."
I shrugged.
"What do you like about it."
"A number of things. One? You developed it informally. No footprint of it exists. You got yourself wormed in, close by. That's good. You even managed some limited site access. Walking the dog. Creative. Persistent. You got the right mindset for this. I'll give you that."
"So what don't you like."
"I'll continue with what I still like. That old lady? Impressions of someone living next door, are important."
"Are you out of things you like, I guess."
He sighed.
"Unfortunately. We have to make a gut hunch decision, on her information. Now. Granted, its all based on... some old lady says so."
I was hopeful.
"Is it worthless?"
"Yes and no. Is it enough for warrants and a trial? No. Is it good enough to be very intriguing to our investigation? Very much so. And I can tell you why."
"Why."
"Its not what you found, in and of itself. One more family with money, and what all they do carrying on in some small town. Big news. There's one in every small town across America. But what you did? That address? Was one of the out of place phone records. Which, you now tie that location to basically small time organized crime, is what it sounds like to me. If? We take the old lady at her word."
My mind whirls in all directions. How to hurt the governor if I wanted to. I thought out loud.
"If I knew he ordered it, and I had no other way? I could try to release stuff showing he's in bed with organized crime. Around election time? That evidence in the hands of his opponent who won't shut up about it? Could work. I'm guessing, but... I figure he's easier to deal with out of office. In office? Too many people with money schmoozing him. He can pick up the phone."
"You're resourceful. That's good."
"So. We're onto something."
"Eh. Knowing someone that is into something, and being guilty yourself? Two different things."
"What do I do now. Try for more on the property, maybe."
He thought.
"Make that a regular thing, just in case. Try to concentrate on that cop, if you want to know how to plan your weeks. Now that you got me this? I'll poke around see what I can do. There's different company names on these properties they bought up around that block? Any one of them could be used to funnel money to the governor for whatever in return. Remember. At the end of the day? These aren't ordinary criminals. They're politicians, or they deal with them."
I stayed the weekend visiting my lawyer and my investigator, before leaving to go back and try to get somewhere on the cop and the county building. I like having friends to visit, and I like having an important project. Its even better that its related to trying to get whoever did this. I launched the next idea as practically a joke.
"Well. This explains where the party governor, gets a kilo at, I guess."
He just looked at me.
"You know? The kilo in the kitchen story, the reward party for the campaign staff and all their long hours that paid off. That's not an amount of coke to have around even for a big party. I mean, not being rude here, but... do you know coke at all?"
I shrugged.
"I'm not into it. Have I tried it? Of course. Several times. Honestly? Don't really like it. It makes me... sick. Like I have the flu."
"Really?"
I smiled.
"I am of course very well aware? That most people report liking it. I'm in the minority here. And yes, I know a little about it, just from... I'm alive and it goes on around me sometimes. Can I carry on that whole, patented, coke conversation the coke heads carry on with? No. In fact, when they do that coke talk shit? There's a few vocabulary words, I'm still trying to fill in. Bugs me, when I don't know what someone said."
The investigator smiled.
"Are you familiar with large amounts of cocaine, up to and even over, a kilo?"
I shook my head.
"That's TV shit, to me."
The investigator nodded along.
"Same here, personally. Working, investigating... a kilo is a lot. How familiar are you with the metric system?"
I laughed.
"I know it, lets say both professional and recreational both. I know a kilo? Is roughly 2.2 pounds. Specifically, a thousand grams. I know three and a half grams is one eighth of an ounce, there's 28 grams to an ounce."
"You had science classes, and you can do... pot math."
"Basically? Yeah."
"A kilo, is a lot. When the governor threw a kilo, a half a kilo, whatever. That huge pile. He was making a statement. You know what that statement is?"
I'm a smart ass sometimes. I just can't help it.
"Uh... his statement, was... I have a lot of coke, or? I really like coke."
"Well, that too. But, that's a lot to have. Throwing that much out, for people to snort, sniff, lick, smoke it, and not care. That's saying something about... money, power, serious connections. That kind of statement."
I thought about it.
"Oh. Yeah. Governor has... TV bullshit going on, at his parties."
"More than that. He's... advertising? That he has bad guy connections. Think about it. Do you know where to buy a kilo, at a decent price?"
I laughed.
"Not at any price, decent... or otherwise."
"Me neither. The governor? Mysteriously does. What does that tell you."
"Uh, this is where I don't speak the language."
"Again. He's advertising. Money, power, well connected. And I'll go you one better."
I calculated and came up with nothing.
"What."
"Is this not, the governor that mysteriously gets millions in, at the proverbial 23rd hour of every election he was ever in? I ask you."
"Okay. I see your point."
The investigator rolled his eyes.
"Not sure you do. What is it about this one source of millions, that only the magical governor can tap it, on demand, when he needs it the most. And, no other astute well connected politician can duplicate this feat. What does that tell you, as an investigator. Because I can tell you, what it tells me."
"He's dirty."
"Well, yeah. Worse than dirty, though. I think? Those anonymous millions in mysterious donations are somehow connected to organized crime. Directly. I mean, something is going on."
"Okay. I manage the old lady and the dog for information and looking at the place, once a week. I concentrate the rest of the week, on his young lady cop friend. You, don't have to do anything. But, if you got bored? What might that be."
The investigator grinned.
"I want to see money changing hands. There's a lot of different names on those properties around that block? Almost all seem to be controlled by the same small business. More names, more titles, more companies? More chances for me to see something when I search the donations. And remember. Its not illegal to give garbage bags of cash, to politicians. They made sure of that. No, what is illegal? Don't forget. It can be illegal what you get back, for your donations."
"Is that hard?"
"Its been a law for a while now, that its publicly available information, in today's computer world. And it is. Problem? There's a lot of information. They don't organize or make it easy, apparently that's not part of the law. But access to tens of thousands of pieces of paper on line? Yeah."
"I'm the computer guy. Can I help?"
"Maybe. Imagine a number of giant text files. Huge ones. Behemoths. Instead of a real database? You get, I don't know, a dumpster of pages."
"What do you do now? Curious."
"Got a copy of a few things on a thumb drive. Little programs, supposedly designed to search big text files for phrases you list. You take turns using each search program, on each giant text file."
"Well. One of these days? Let me see you doing it. You never know."
My investigator nodded.
"All right. I got phone activity between this... supposedly dirty family business, and the governor. We're looking for financial connections. See about that young cop we surmise he helped her get a job."
My lawyer hangs back when we have these little heart to heart catch up moments. She joins us when we seem on a break or even done, and acts like nothing was amiss. Another business meeting in her world, I suppose. I've tried to lower or eliminate the shots? I can't seem to. It is enjoyable, though. To have friends, and they seem to know how to both treat you? And even more importantly, how not to treat you. They know from work experience you don't fawn all over a person that went through a tragedy. You just deal with it as you have to, like everything else. Another meeting.
Took me a couple weeks to get the rough schedule down of the lady cop. I don't get real close, just close enough to play visual tag. I'm able to post up for the big police building from far enough away now, and now know what car I'm looking for. Good used binoculars off an auction on line does the trick. Hard to use like regular, easy to manipulate with the insane high power when you use a little locking tripod.
This is the office aspect of what is in all probability? Deduced to be a county drug task force position. Office time, I understand. Where's the field work, it has to exist. Office hours? Are sporadic. Couple days a week, couple hours at a time. Days can shift, times can drift and even lengthen or shorten.
I found a place to keep tabs on the apartment life. There's two apartments. A nice one, and a shitty one. I'm assuming the shitty one is her work cover apartment. At first I thought I was seeing a boyfriend. Right age. Right one to ten to score, to zen with her. Then, another one. No, not two boyfriends, unless it was something really weird and modern. Both of them come and congregate with her, at her nice apartment. Never at her crumb bum apartment.
She's supposed to be, county drug task force. These two? Must then be the partners, I'm guessing. Everything fits, and my investigator is adamant about his suppositions on this. I mean, I can buy this. Overall? Yeah. Except one thing. Where's the actual hunting of the drug purchases. I got a cop office building, now I got what seems to be partners, maybe. Where's the actual work itself? Office time is part time and sketchy at best.
I can text my investigator for inspiration, and I ran it past him. He gave me a short voice call, after texting to ask if it was convenient to talk. I was reporting being in the field, after all.
"You, are wondering about the life of the average county drug task force cop."
"I am. I see everything else, assuming your guess was on the money. I just don't see, any..."
He chuckled into the phone.
"What is it you envision, being county drug task force, would even be? Your schedule."
"Oh. I mean, okay. I grew up watching TV. Undercover. I thought they... lived and worked and everything, undercover."
"That's one kind of undercover officer. And they do exist. She just ain't one of them. Here, you can see how the multi-million dollar county fight the war on drugs battle is being spent."
"When does she go out and actually..."
"They do. Its just not every day, like you probably imagine in your head. I don't know if you know this or not, but county drug task force? Is considered a prestigious place to land. Everyone knows the pay is great. Apparently, you're seeing the work isn't too demanding. Have you seen a lot of flak jackets, shotguns, sledgehammering open doors and beating confessions out of addicts? Because that's what an... every day, day in and day out, full court press? Would look like."
"Exactly! TV bullshit. Which I don't see any of."
More chuckling.
"The TV stuff? Goes on in other offices, obviously. As soon as county drug task force popped up? I called and educated myself on it a little. Interested?"
"Sure."
"Every county drug task force? Can do its own thing. They get their budget, their manpower, their paperwork offices. Over the years, here's what developed as a standard county MO on this. Quit looking at it, like drug sales were the problem. Pretend its something else. Like speeding. Sure, someone dies in a bad wreck speeding once in a while, but we don't go crazy. What do we do, to try to keep a handle on something you know you'll never eliminate it. Like speeding. Like drug sales."
"Treat drug sales, like speeding? What---"
He chuckled.
"Same here. I was told? Go back, twenty five years. Every county drug force, was doing its own thing. Across the state, across the country. Every once in a while, a winner popped up. Over a five year period, a particularly bad county by the way... had with less budget and manpower? Got better results then everyone else across the state. They were asked to write papers, and present their structure at a conference."
"And the conference technique is..."
"Speeding. Drugs? Like speeding. You can't eliminate it. You can execute speeders on the spot? And just like drug sales, it will still happen. So, what do you do with speeding. The thing you can't eliminate. Well. For the most part? You ignore it. People that speed, which is most people? Do it. Then, every once in a while. You suddenly sit cops out, and pick people out and chase them down with lights and sirens, and issue tickets. You can do nothing but speeding detail, all day every day. You won't get any better numbers? Than doing it like this. Couple times a month, you actually go out and do the speed traps."
I was still flabbergasted by the analogy of the supposed law enforcement paper.
"Drugs, treat it like speeding. No big deal."
"No one had ever made the connection before, but... speeding tickets, when you do them a couple days through the month? Clog up the local magistrates, with all the ticket hearings. Everyone scrambles, to try not to lose their license, and the magistrate can give them zero to five over the limit in his discretion. And he usually does, for most law abiding citizens that go through the dance. That's a couple days a month. Imagine a full court press, nothing but speeding tickets. All day, every day. What it would do, to the magistrate courts schedules. They'd be snowed under."
"I could see that."
"Well? In the management part of law enforcement. Small drug sales, and buys? Are the same thing to the system. You're bringing in a shitload of primarily ordinary citizens, otherwise non violent and non offending. Speeding tickets? We're all sane enough about that subject. To be adults. No, you can't eliminate it, its impossible. Do a reminder a couple days a month. Don't suffocate yourself trying to do the impossible, eliminate what can't be eliminated. But... that war on drugs? Nope. We'll go two, four, ten years down zero tolerance initiatives. Clog up the county courts and jails and the whole system, bad. All? To no real net effect."
"So. Just like speeding. You go out, and hand out tickets a few days throughout the month. I get that. That's how often you go out, and pick up drug sales."
"Basically? Yeah. When you pick up people with jobs and money and families and careers and lives? Like speeding, for instance. You get your cash flow coming in from it. Small drug sales? Not so much. Any half smart career low level county jail asshole? Knows to just sit tight. Take the free lawyer. Guilty anyways, he'll get you the standard sign here guilty deal, its better than getting the book thrown at you. The system? Has a huge budget, and the low level cannon fodder isn't paying, like speeding. You have to consider county jail? Expensive housing and food, really. Zero tolerance? Fills up the county jails, with low level drug offenders. They literally fill up the county jails, and everyone gets released super early. That's a wonderful result. The more people you put into jail? The shorter they stay there."
"I get it. In practical terms? They want real arrests, not as many of the run of the mill speeding ticket drug buys."
"Ideally? Yes. Any county drug task force would. So. A couple times every month? The teams hopscotch around, on tips coming in from all the departments. Where the weekend hot spots for small drug sales gone rampant are. Like speed traps? They hit them. The idea, is just like speeding. We're here, you just don't know what days we're here. You watch it, or you'll eventually get caught. Its cheap and effective, to just generate the limited county jail arrests that way. And use PR of those limited arrests? To make it look like its a full court press. To the media. I know it sounds like pretending to do something about it all? But... bang for the buck? Like speeding, it works. By the numbers."
"So. That's the standard, Pennsylvania home grown approach to it at the county level, then."
"Basically? After that one bad county tried this, and it worked so well. Efficiency. It caught on. So yeah, this is standard."
"Who is doing all the... TV work."
"State police, and any outside agency, like DEA or ATF that turns things up? The local state police catch it, usually. Sheriffs and the deputies tend to transport and process county inmates? And serve a lot of warrants, hit doors. You have county SWAT to help with that. But, state police are mainly the ones, doing what you think of as dangerous undercover work on TV. The county undercover units? No, not like that."
"High pay? Not a lot of real work. Limited office hours. No wonder cops want these jobs."
"I told you. Think. The governor got her a cop job? He's the governor. He got her a real plum. Do you know what one aspect of county drug task force is?"
"Curious."
"You get a budget. A decent one. You're expected to spend nights out. Drinks and food. To check places out."
"Sounds like a huge perk."
"It is. You ever have a job where free beer and pizza is a weekly thing? For county drug task force, its a normal perk. So, you can see why these jobs are considered prime assignments."
"Yeah. If you can swing a relative into one of these jobs? Its another family member, taken care of by being connected."
I spent the next three months, armed with the outline of what was considered the best approach by county drug task force. Basically? What seemed like a weekly bust sting schedule, upon inspection turned out to be an exact 10 day schedule, when I kept track of it. I had sheets of four by eight wood up, thumbtacks holding up arrests. I had an old laptop, and I threw a small light version of Linux onto it. The laptops whole job? Upon booting up, it starts a program that basically types phrases I developed over time into the search bars I direct it to. It monitors the results, and saves the results for me to go back over later.
Every ten days, and I mean like clockwork. Someone with some serious imagination was running things and directing the couple million dollars a year spent at the county level. I had the days circled on the calendar. I was used to seeing them meeting up at the building, and then fanning out in their undercover squad cars.
Because they weren't hitting crack houses, and homes with warrants? No big team footprint. The three to five man teams could effectively put hands on anyone they wanted to, when they ran stings. Hers seemed to be a three man operation. So now its not weekly, and at every ten days? Its like three times a month. I had to follow a conga line of undercover squad cars fanning out. Cops like this? Not on the lookout for anyone following them, as long as I don't do it too ineptly.
Trying to hang back, yet keep the unmistakable parade of undercover cops cars in sight? Was an art form. I was conservative, and was content to lose them instead of get too eager and get too close, too quick. I lost my first two, I admit it. Then I got my shtick down pat and located one of the cars I was pretty sure. Traffic was light, and I hung back several or more cars. They pulled into a bar parking lot, a fairly big one off of one of the smaller and older highways around here.
I went and turned around somewhere and waited a good while, before parking there and going in. Who even knows what random undercover units I followed here. I can't locate them. I oozed off outside having a cigarette, and had myself a little puff now and again off of my own pot pipe, standing around in the underbrush surrounding this big gravel parking lot.
There. Not hard to locate a car looks like the one you were watching, with three people in it. Girl and two guys. My little cheap binoculars work better now. Eventually, they sent someone in. The girl.
I did a double take. Unless my mind was playing tricks on me, unless a lot of lady cops look alike? This, was the inept undercover lady cop I had run across a couple of years back on my own time. It couldn't be, but... well, there you go. Small world. Ah, we both live in an area that's a series of small towns, a certain number of small towns apart. We always did brush up against one another now and again? We just didn't know it.
One funny thing. I now know how the inept lady undercover cop I remembered, got her "prestigious" county drug task force assignment. I mean, we put a sign on her back, taped it right on her. Everyone in the place was laughing. Don't sell me any weed, I'm a narc. Still. She could have been brand new, and had by now learned her trade in the last couple of years.
Oh well. I'm not the average bear out here watching. True, I'm not a trained investigator. I have to keep going back and taking cues from my own mentor at this. But, I have my own unique personal things I bring to the table. For one? I'm a HAM operator guy. I got my way in the dark to my own car, and located my handheld portable scanner. My frequency counter. My frequency counter? I've modified it, to remove certain bands of frequencies at the press of a button. This stops Bluetooth devices from giving me too many signal locks. By discriminating against them? I can get to the strong local signals, that by background characteristics are by definition weak... but only once you get out of here.
A couple of local cellphone locks, then I had it. A strong intermittent burst. Several seconds long. Dead on a frequency. No "hopping" where two or more frequencies compete, popping in and out on one another. A strong lock, is always your local signal. I typed that frequency in on my scanner during its one channel mode, and voila.
Listening in? They spent an hour and a half, and she had a cocaine sale completed. They were going to celebrate some, she was bringing him out to the parking lot. Her two male partners grabbed the guy, and hauled him off at gun point to their squad car in the back corner of the parking lot. I listened as she angled around outside and finally got another one. I could hear her talking to the other person offering sales. She had thought she was good with the other one? He disappeared. She wanted to score now, lets go.
Girl-Girl transaction, and indeed male-male transactions? Usually get conducted in the bathrooms. But, was it intentional that a female undercover doing the buying, couldn't do that? Hence, the easy proliferation of "let's go outside", where it was also easier to nab them. I figured, maybe. It also allowed for more than one arrest per location at a time. She turned her one into two. Another cop car quietly hit the back of the parking lot, and took both off to county while she patrolled inside for anything else. She turned up a dime bag of pot, and late in the game.
This ended up being a routine once every ten day exercise. This was going on three times a month. Hit a spot. Try to pick up a few small coke or weed sales? And using PR spin the few arrests into a "program" that was "working". Drug arrests? Were down! Saw a piece in the newspaper about it. Gee, wonder why. Arrest less people, see less arrests. That? Was touted as success. Numerical proof.
Month to month? A dozen of these low level arrests were generated, on average for any given month. Some more, some less. I knew this wasn't the only three to five man team doing this. It was a secret how many undercover full time units they had, naturally. I was observing their project speeding approach in action. Really? There was no telling where they would pop up next, in the county. Any town, any location. It did give the operation the whole... anywhere, anytime impression.
Hell. Armed with what I now knew? I could go out, and as an amateur? Sell small amounts of pot or even cocaine, quite openly. As long as I avoided the local cops, all I have to do? Is not go out one night, every ten days. Sell drugs all I want, nine days out of every ten. I worry about locals, which isn't hard. And the county net? I'd be impossible to catch.
Honestly, this system? Guaranteed a regular train of "offenders". Who were all going to be low level county jail customers, if not outright probation and fines. Actual drug dealers of any size and note? Were hardly inconvenienced. Only the street sellers could possibly run into the county's rare nets. To get any bigger busts? You'd have to work a cherry never arrested once ever before, into giving someone they knew up. Rare.
I built another frequency chart, and compared it to my old one. Quite similar, though they had added a few channels since the last time I had listened in for fun on county drug task force. I bought a nice mobile scanner. One intended for home use? But ran on 12 volts. I had it down to knowing the days of the raids, decent at predicting most of the office plain clothes days. My vehicle big scanner programmed with all their frequencies, labeled.
Once I found them? I quickly poked around and located their base. They communicated infrequently with home base? But did. Things like getting the back seat cleaned out, while an operation was still running that night. Going on and off radio with base? Base got told when to stay radio quiet with them, not the other way around. Once again, in the end it was not very imaginative. I was tracking their command structure? By following radio signals. Once I had their channels on their band plan made up, I next located home base frequency.
By taking a simple directional strength reading, you can make a dot and a direction that heads straight for any signal. Any HAM knows this, its a foxhunt. I bought a cheap tablet, and put my own map on it. I can make points, and type in dates and times and notes on the dots.
Its a simple matter to get a directional radio signal. While you're experiencing base communications? You also put a frequency counter up. You dial in the frequency you're listening to. When home base is talking? You simply follow this surprisingly simple procedure.
You have a special antenna. You can make it yourself? It works just as good as any commercial one. Its just two wires, thickness relatively unimportant. How long, and where they bend and go apart? Critical. You watch a meter, and trim the wire down to peak it. These simple two wires, form what is called a dipole antenna. Rotated? Dipole antennas have a mathematical feature. They "null out" when the two straight wires making the simple straight dipole are exactly sideways to the target frequency and where its being generated from.
If you take the simple expedient, of rotating a simple compass around? Until north was on the "N"... you could read off a bearing degree. My tablet actually shows me a compass, and I can get a degree bearing from any dot, to another dot on my map.
After several "home base" dot and direction degree information's saved? I simply looked at the dots I had labeled. I changed color of lines, and with this new bright color I drew bearing lines from every home base monitor dot, until they intersected.
They all intersected? At or just around the building they frequented for their sparse office hours. That, was home base for county drug task force. I could get a list of all employees, by simply monitoring a hidden camera.
This was all routine, though.
I wanted non routine activity. I expected it. So did my mentor investigator when we gabbed about it. At my next weekend sleepover visit? He advised me to stay back, but to keep on specifically my main target? And to whatever degree was possible and feasible... her two male partners. His gut told him? She was up to something. Why? If we assume the old lady is 100 percent right, a stretch but still. We assume her intelligence is accurate, then this lady cop is a member of that "little mafia" family.
This is all guess work. She was raised in the same... atmosphere. You? Are privileged. Entitled. The system? Exists locally anyways, solely to protect you. And to punish further than normal, anyone that gets in your path. As a person born to this, you could look around you and find, what. Scams. Places to put yourself, to get into the middle of things. Juicy things.
Why, a local criminal family, with pull at the governor's mansion level of strings to yank... a distant relative a cop and now an undercover drug cop? In their county? Imagine the possibilities. I'm not investigating. I'm taking flights of fancy. Daydreaming, and assuming I'm mostly correct. Could... this undercover drug task force relative, be the source for a kilo of cocaine that ended up at the governor's mansion for a big thank you party.
Food for thought.
Was I happy, that I knew everything? No, not at all. But I was definitely beginning to get a fuzzy picture of things. And fuzzy reception is better than no reception at all. I could really dial in and see about fine tuning later on.
The information. All of it, that I really wanted? Like it or not, I would never know it all. Exactly what went on? No. What I could potentially get though, was a vague idea in places exactly what went on and why. Other places? More detail. This patch quilt of what and why, wove together enough of a picture. This, was how the investigator explained it to me. Short of something like clear video and audio, rare, or a trustworthy witness with a great memory? Again, rare in his experience. Where you know something about the what? He taught me to guess the why part. Make it practical. Sometimes, I might know the why? Guess the what and where part.
I had frequencies to monitor as well.
But the whole thing? Was a dam. The dirty, watery little secrets and shenanigans were starting to leak out. I was beginning to worry and poke that little trickle hole into a more regular intermittent spurt.
Eventually? With the beginnings of a mere little crack. A dam can come down in the end.
If you have enough time, you can make the largest dam with spoons. The Chinese once proved that. A veritable army of untrained civilians? Armed with just baskets and spoons. Moved enough dirt and dumped those baskets of spoon dug earth where told enough times... that the at the time world's largest dam was thus constructed.
It only stood to reason, then.
You could undo any dam, with a spoon used in just the right little crack that would otherwise hold under normal circumstances.