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Saturday, December 18, 2004

Bringing Down the Medillin Cartel, Part II 

HARDLY.

During the time the Sheriff’s Office employed the Professional Confidential Informant, I was kept busy transcribing tapes of the pressured speech of 'poor white' crack users on their meandering quests to re-up. Since the CI and the suspect were usually wired in more ways than one, their missions were not well thought out and they would spend many talkative hours trolling the county's seedy neighborhoods, apartment complexes and trailer parks. The strategy for their errand was very scatter shot and time consuming, so much so that finding the drugs must have been like a full time job for them. Actually, it was their full time job, since every single one of them eventually revealed during their conversations that they collected welfare and food stamps, which most of the dealers would take as currency for crack. As the suspects jabbered away they would reveal all sorts of incriminating details about their lives that made it very hard to feel too sorry for them or for me to remain a bleeding heart Democrat. It was too bad for the targets that their drug use didn’t make them more paranoid of the Judas driving in the car with them. I noticed that white people in general seemed a little more complacent and less wary than African-Americans, whose community had already been the target of several drug sweeps. Since the CI was white he could only sucker other whites into procuring drugs for him, and what dumb, luckless white trash they were.

The CI showed me how he would put his targets at ease. When the pigeon would get in the car, the CI would show them a Santa doll (this was around the holidays).

“Look here what I got my old lady for Christmas.”

He would then pull down the Santa doll’s pants to reveal a grotesquely large penis. An anatomically exaggerated Santa Claus doll was apparently the height of hilarity and they would both cackle and slap their knees for about 5 minutes. The transcript would go something like:

CI: {...LAUGHING...} Isn't that motherfucker the best? {...LAUGHING...}
SUSPECT: {...LAUGHING...} Where did you find that motherfucker? {...LAUGHING...}
CI: {...LAUGHING...} This motherfucking store. {...LAUGHING...}
SUSPECT: {...LAUGHING...} Goddamn, that motherfucker's funny. {...LAUGHING...}
CI: {...LAUGHING...} Sure fucking is.
SUSPECT: I'm going to get me one of those motherfuckers. {...LAUGHING...}
CI: OOOO-WEEE, take a look at that pussy over there!
SUSPECT: I'd like to fuck me that pussy.

After that little ice breaker, the informant and suspect would spend the next 5 or so hours continuing along in this delightful vein and I would have to type every single word of it.

The users were just recreational, as far as you can be a recreational crack user, and none were remotely what you would call a king pin. They were procuring the drug for the CI so they could get a little piece of it as commission. After the CI had collected cases against 15 or so of them, the Narcotics Officers began their arrests. To be continued…

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