Up until the day I got the minacious phone call from FBI Special Agent Lamb, I continued to believe Longhead’s long-term promises to me that he would answer the questions I’d accumulated throughout the investigation that caused our meeting. The riveting and edgy Charlottesville detective assured me time and time again that all I had to do was be patient until the case was over and he’d talk about whatnot specifics. When the gullible twit that is me finally realized and (crushed) accepted Longhead wasn’t going to keep his word, I decided to get the answers myself via other means.
I’ve repeated the story enough to know the one thing people wonder is: what were you going to ask him? I don’t recall that I’ve ever replied before but I will now, at least in part. Here’s a sample:
How long have you been doing narcotics?
How many other people do you work with?
They as old as you? Y’all get along?
Do you all have a lot of cases?
How long does it take to close them?
How often do you raid houses? Do you raid houses?
How many busts in a week or month?
Do you actually go undercover -- like in disguise?
Have you ever been shot at? Shot at anyone?
Let me guess, you’re thinking those quite possibly could win me the first prize blue ribbon in The Most Unexciting Elementary Inquiries Ever bake-off. I know! What would’ve been resolved in generally an extra hour of Longhead’s time spiraled into my going-on-nearly-a-year-now project. Once I got really started on it, I found out it was a lot of fun to learn about this stuff. I thought it would be challenging to figure it all out, and then I got to discover that most of the difficulties I faced were of my own oopsadazey making. But that’s neither here nor there.
It seriously punctures my pixie that these law enforcement agents are trying to browbeat me into abandoning my harmless avocation. I object to it much as I would if my hobby was hunting, or fishing, or softball, and they were attempting to force me into giving that up.