Jon Deere

Cat’s Cradle

Setting the Table

2009 Source.

29. I’d like to know how the “level” -- low, middle, upper -- of drug dealers is determined. What exactly is the criteria? Is there an across-the-board scale law enforcement follows; is it gut feeling; does it vary depending on agencies, cities, et cetera?

30. How is Table 18 indicative of JADE’s effectiveness? It looks to me like it’s devoid of crucial data needed to support their proclamation. If the Task Force had 211 arrests in 2004 and they could’ve made 4002 arrests, then the program’s not as cricket as they make it sound. Or is any capture and confiscation proof they’re effective? 300 grams of cocaine seized in 2003 would be impressive if all that was left in Charlottesville and Albemarle was, say, 12. Okay, there’s really no way to tell those things. However one can see the year marijuana grabs went down, cocaine ones went up. Is that because there was less pot in their jurisdictions or because the focus of Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement shifted? Did meth beat out cocaine 3 years for the same reason(s)? There’s a lot of things the above table evidences; effectuality is not one of them.

Pieces of the Puzzled

About the VSP’s weird activity, here’s where I’m at so far:

Late night on 20090623 I made an “Experiment Without Explanation” post which contained only a photograph. If you read I HeArTE JADE regularly, you likely saw it; if you didn’t see it, you likely never will.

Because, as part of the project, and for fun, I deleted it, like, a day later.

However, should you be a Virginia State Policeman -- or anyone they like, for that matter -- you can probably have BCI Special Agent Jason Trent or maybe this man send a copy to you.

Because it, along with this entry and others, was emailed by and to specific Law Enforcement members.

I’m still investigating the matter.

Because I’m cool like that.

VSP ESP

Something strange is going on with the Virginia State Police. Yeah, no, not like in-general; expressly with I HeArTE JADE.

Y’all know that I get a kick out of messin’ with Special Agent Jason Trent.

Well, through a source, I was led to believe that, though I remain under investigation, Mr. Trent is not the case man anymore.

So, at first, I was all: If this is true, Hooray! He can go back to pretending he’s a 14-year-old girl, and I can stop pretending to be fixated on him.

But, next, I was all: If this is true, why the change? Maybe they feel I’m fixated on him. Huh.

I had to corroborate the information -- because, sometimes, even the best grapevine can produce bad fruit, and because I’m completely incapable of not verifying things.

Only, before I got the chance to really get started on that, I got additional, other, information. This time it came with names.

It appears, uhm -- sorry to be mysterious -- it has something to do with a few of the… I’ll call them “Big Guns” of the VSP Bureau of Criminal Investigation.

I think it’s from me picking on their BCI pal. Which makes me declare, in caps: BUT, BUT, BUT I’M BEING GOOD!

I aim to sort it out to a logical conclusion.

This just gets larger, and goes on longer, and involves more and more and more and more people. Doesn’t bother me a bit.

And, to think, one man has the power to make all this go away.

Open Carry Might Not Be Safe

I edge my vehicle to one side of a street near the JADE office, shift to park, and shut the thing down. If the info I got that the Drug Enforcement men are going to be making a bust is correct -- and based on the presence of the multiple police cars I’m seeing at the Ix property, it is -- then I’ve about fifteen to twenty minutes before the Task Force comes out to perform their duties.

Checking oil and transmission fluid seems a practical way to waste the right amount of time so I tilt forward and pull a black lever next to my left knee. I’m rewarded with a plunking sound of the front cover letting loose.

As I reach for the handle to get out, the car’s sunshield above my brow vibrates. I wiggle my cell phone out of the container clipped to the visor. Uckf! I don’t want to talk to him right now. I shove the stirring object back in its holder, swipe the case down and secure it to a ribbon on my skirt. I swing open the door and step outside into the fair weather. Hey, is that…? Two people have exited together from the workplace in front of me.

I don’t know who the one male is but the dude he’s with is a Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement detective. I duck the top half of me inside the car to snatch a camera off the arm rest. The gadget powers on quickly. I plant it on the roof for steadiness and push the shutter once. Twice. A few more. The twosome, discernibly in no hurry, disappear from view. I could get some way better pictures of them if I move closer. The ideal place to relocate flashes to mind and, camera clasped in hand, I dash my way to it. Once there I speed-click about ten more photographs. They’re amazing oblivious.

Sudden motion draws my attention to the glass double-doors of the Ix building. Sinewy officers are spilling down the steps and fanning out towards their respective vehicles. I recognize some of them; some I do not. Some of their cars are marked; some not. I capture as many on camera as I can -- the men, their rides. I’m tempted to further prolong the picture-taking but it’s not a smart thing to do if I plan on successfully following them.

Dang, man! They’re loadin’ up fast. I’m racing for my wheels. At like ten feet away from my car my cell phone buzzes. Keys! Who is calling me at this very wrongest time? Door. Look back! Which direction are they going? Throw the camera in the console. I start the motor right as the last pair of policemen sweep out of sight.

Find me sixteen seconds later tagging ‘long at their rear. We navigate the local streets at a fairish rate, then hit 64. I’ve been making good use of my camera throughout but merging on the Interstate and brisk acceleration prompts me to put it away. I get comfy, prepare to give my undivided attention to the LEOs ahead. Now that I’m barreling down the road, I...

OH.

My Dear.

Lord. In Heaven.

The hood! I forgot to shut MY HOOD!

It’s noticeably quaking. Of all the stupid…

Officers Him and Him, now in the left lane, are picking up the pace. I curve my steering wheel to join them there, tip down the gas pedal as I assess the situation with my auto. Can I make it? But how far? Ehhh, I can make it. At this high-velocity the covering finally stops its agitated jerking up and down. Because the wind has taken complete control of it, straining the shield full-force. Agh! Should I keep going? What. Should I. Do? Visions of the giant metal sheet ripping off, flying into or over my car, and murdering most of the people behind me, win out. I activate my hazards, slow down and pull over with no deaths.

I check the time. Leap from the car to smash down the lid. It closes. Whew! Then springs immediately back open. Huh? I try again. It rebounds again. No! No. No. No. Noooooooo. I decide unlatching it, opening it all the way then dropping it, will do the trick. My fingers aren’t finding the hasp. Any other moment this would not be a problem. Eventually, with a reverberant bang, I get the hood closed.

Reseated inside, I look at the clock again. The number actually hasn’t changed. But, still. Those guys have made it to the ocean by now. I mindfully file this adventure under “learning experience” and move on.

Charlottesville's BEST CHOICE Just Became A Public Figure

Paul Best, a detective with the Charlottesville Police Department assigned to the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force, announced this morning his candidacy for City Sheriff.

Paul Best made the announcement Friday on Charlottesville's Downtown Mall. Best will run as an independent against Democratic nominee James Brown.

Best has 15 years experience in law enforcement and now works on the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force.

Best says he will use his experience to initiate a "gang reduction and intervention program."

Best, 39, said he decided to run for sheriff because he would like to improve the quality of life in Charlottesville and he thinks certain core services of the Sheriff’s Office can be expanded.

sEE wHAT aLL tRANSPIRED

“You see that man, over there, wearing the camouflage pants?” the gesturing little girl asked me. “That’s my dad” she bragged.

“That one?” I responded, pointing my finger like her. “In the green shirt?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, but then, as though to make absolutely sure I’d gotten the right one, she repeated me. “In the green shirt?”

“Yes. Green shirt. I see him.”

“Mmhm. With sunglasses?”

“Sunglasses, yes.”

“Yep. That’s him.”

I was trying to keep a straight face -- as were the four people lounging on the bleacher around us -- while I teased the unknown chatterbox who’d attached herself to me. The area we all were looking at was packed with about a hundred males, nearly every one of them decked out in camouflage pants, a green shirt, and shades.

Because it’s precisely the sort of thing I ♥, I went to the 9th annual SWAT competition in Harrisonburg this past weekend.

I got to see representatives from eleven departments, divided into fifteen respective teams, do things like breach doors, maneuver an obstacle course, climb a wall, and shoot.

Firearms-type challenges are always my favorite. So much so, that, on this occasion, the first day I climbed up a scaffold that was on the immediate edge of the range to watch the bullets fly. No better place to be than above participants, right? Too bad the object had been relocated for police use by day two.

Many of the officers could no doubt take out a mouse on an elephant’s tail from fifty yards away, though there were a couple of them that probably couldn’t hit even the elephant. I can’t remember which team it was, but as a sniper climbed down from turf on the roof after obliterating his own targets he good-naturedly said to his teammate below “what -- were you shootin’ blanks?”

I spoke to numerous Law Enforcement, raced a Sergeant on these monkey bars (he beat me by like two seconds!), plus got a new shirt, screensaver, and suntan. Also, I couldn’t help but notice the Charlottesville teams had their names stitched to their asses -- which I think is hilarious.

I could go on and on, and on, about all the awesomeness of the event and how nice the people were but this isn’t the site for that. In fact, the only reason I bring it up here at all is because Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement has SWAT guys and they were in attendance:



Hell-Oh. Stud. It just wouldn’t be an echt I HeArTE JADE entry if I didn’t mention I do believe the most handsome man there was, of course, Spot:

Twilit

I M Bean On Mai Bestest Beehiveyour

Dunno why that last word up there went all like uber-ugly bad Brit accent but, since it works, I’m keepin’ it. Turns out concocting distinctive titles on a regular basis is not as easy as one might expect. Now that I’m vexing degree-of-difficulty, those Bullet Lists of mine are the hardest things to do! But back to the topic: Conduct -- specifically, mine.

I gathered from my last conversation with Virginia SP BCI SA Jason Trent (G-O-O-G-L-E), as long as they’re content I’m not doing anything “new,” I’m safe from arrest. Apparently the ongoing updates to iHeArTEjade do not constitute “new.” Provided I’m posting pictures that depict last fall’s foliage or stories that describe gelid weather conditions denoting the tail is not recent, that is. And using nothing -- current or yore -- that outs Task Force informants. No bringing up their in-progress drug investigations, either. Come to think of it, there’s a heck of a lot of stipulations.

Did you just hear something? That was the sound of my eyes rolling.

Ordinarily I’d snub illegitimate dictations issued by Law Enforcement, and keep on keeping on, but I’ve a few matters of extreme interest under construction which are compelling me to not be haled in metal loops by Agent Trent any time soon. Whereas I believe it’d be tough and a half for the powers that be to get a conviction for anything I’ve done or am doing, a combat in court to prove that will have to wait.

Avoid the two Detectives, Truck and Longhead, that are being especially pissy about this I HeArTE JADE junk? Check. Take extra extra care with site entries and images? Sure. Leave the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force be? Not a chance.

I did not know in fact, that I did, in fact, know what I’d be charged with, so, now that I know that I know, now, I don’t know that I care.

If it wasn’t evident, I talked to Special Agent Jason Trent of the Virginia State Police again. Should I have only my blog labels to use to define why I called him last Thursday, I’d go with “Experiment Without Explanation.” Anyhoo, it’s out of my conversation with Mr. Trent that I’m able to serve up the undermentioned brain blend:

From an assortment of informal comments Agent Trent has made, I think it’d be killer to speak with him about his work and cases. For instance, he said something about interview techniques and classes and my psyche was thenceforth whisked into a cyclone of curiosity-filled inquiries. It bites that he’ll never willingly reply to my questions regarding his profession.

I was asked completely out of nowhere by Mr. Trent why I recently sold my car. I’m not certain if his query was supposed to be of the we’re-watching-you-lady intimidation variety but if that’s how it was meant, dare I say FAIL? I’m mountains more interested in the possible technical aspects of how he knew of the sale. They have a DMV flag on me, maybe? Because, is that even a for real thing they can do?

Speaking of can do, why do these officers appear to be of the opinion that just because I can do something it must mean I did? Actually whether I can do or not seems largely irrelevant, all it really takes is for them to feel I can. (This other brief exchange I had with Agent Trent about his telephone number is perhaps a decent, albeit minor, example of what I mean.) Don’t even get me started on their similiar nutball notion that just because I can do something it must mean I will. I find both very confusing. And annoying; I find both very annoying. Hphft!

Mr. Trent made a point to point out he admitted he’d lied to me, as if that makes his lying Ooooo Kkkkkk. Just a thought, but Logic: You’re Doing It Wrong. He also pointedly stated most people who are being investigated don’t know they are (I guess until the point of arrest?), as if that… yeah, I’ve not a clue what his point there was, but, somehow, I feel like I’ve been enlightened and, for that, I’m grateful.

Every Man Gets His Day In Court. Then Another Day. Then Another Day.

It seems to me the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement men spend a significant portion of their working lives in court.

I’m not sure how often this type of thing happens but, according to VCCI, on June 11 like half the members of the Task Force I think were in one court or another -- some of the officers appearing in one court and another.

A handful of their cases from that day were continued to various later dates after having already been carried over from previous dates.

Could probably make a dandy tongue-twister out of this stuff. Please parallel park for your perpetually pending proceedings.

Deep Pockets

Yestermonth News

Mid-May 2009

A Waynesboro man arrested during an alleged drug deal in Albemarle County was charged Tuesday for felony possession of a firearm and cocaine possession.

Martin L. Foster, 36, left his 9-year-old child alone in Waynesboro when he went to sell cocaine in Albemarle County, Waynesboro police Sgt. Kelly Walker said. The JADE Task Force busted Foster with 2 ounces of cocaine, according to a police search warrant. He then told police of 4 ounces kept at his Mulberry Street home in Waynesboro.

Police seized cocaine, firearms, cell phones, a black bat and more than $4,000 from his home at 1511 Mulberry Street.

An investigation continues into possible child neglect in Waynesboro, Walker said.

Foster remains in custody at Albemarle-Charlottesville Regional Jail.

Source.

Entry Labels

(Updated)

Three For Trent

1.

What's this? I do believe it's, among other things, you giving me that particular phone number of yours. Huh. Imagine that. 434-352-3445. Yep.

2.

Main Entry: re·la·tion·ship
Function: Noun
Date: 1741

3a: a state of affairs existing between those having relations or dealings with each other. He had a good relationship with his family.

The foundation of our relationship is based, Mr. Trent, on your liesssss. Plural. So you see, it's perfectly correct -- in all senses.

3.

Doesn't it just make your day go peachy to know that you are the only person who truly is being forced to read iHeArTEjade? Oh, no, wait; it's me whose day goes peachy to know that.

JADE In Fonts And Colors

jade charlottesville
jade task force
jefferson area drug enforcement

jade charlottesville
jade task force
jefferson area drug enforcement

jade charlottesville
jade task force
jefferson area drug enforcement

jade charlottesville
jade task force
jefferson area drug enforcement

jade charlottesville
jade task force
jefferson area drug enforcement

jade charlottesville
jade task force
jefferson area drug enforcement

Immutable

This, I Do Not Understand

I can be driving down any given road at some 60+ miles an hour on a sunny, happy day and manage to take photographs of Task Force Officers that are so clear and perfect they look staged. But tack on any variation of cat-and-dog weather -- about to rain, is raining, just finished raining -- and I abstrusely get pictures like this:



This:



And this:



I mean, I grasp the concept of why this one (taken while in motion) would come out this way:



Which is why I knew what to do to fix it for a (still in motion) better one:



But this one? Makes no sense to me:



I swear that really is a car! On a street! In daylight!

P.S. I just found out I swear a lot.

Club Mouse

Mouse is such a good driver I can even follow him if I’m in front of him. The way traffic is flowing, I’m forced into that very situation right now.

A tricked-out old red Honda is separating us. Using my mirrors I pay extra careful attention to Mouse’s vehicle rolling along in the background. I know the Sergeant will give me the visual cues I need to clue me in to his upcoming moves; I just have to watch for them.

Sure ‘nuff. After miles with no change in speed, I notice the Dodge slacks off an itsy fraction and drifts nearer to the single solid line painted on the road’s right shoulder. I wait a few seconds to be convinced he’s not going to scootch back over to the center of the lane. He holds tight to his course. Eyup, he’s definitely takin’ the next exit. When the marker for the off-ramp comes into sight, I put my right signal on and peer in my rearview. 4… 3… 2… Mouse’s blinker suddenly lights up. Told ya so. I told ya so! I bop about in my seat with delight.

Sweeping past the green and white sign, I process the location. Partially up the track I’m pretty certain of the man’s destination. I look to minivanned Mouse for confirmation. His right flasher dies, his left one promptly comes to life. Yes -- two for two!

I want to stop being in the lead so I hustle underneath the traffic controller, going right. In my wake I eye what’s happening with Mouse, enough to verify he’s going where I expect, then I slowly U around in the middle of the street. I’ll give him some extra room just in case. In case of what, precisely? I have no idea.

There are no cars to prevent me from proceeding after Mouse but since I’m unprepared for a brush with the lean Drug Enforcement Officer today, I hang in one of those so-called suicide lanes for a mo to allow the fellow time to settle in. Perhaps a minute passes before I make the same turn Mouse has and wind my way up the lane to the Birdwood Country Club as he did.

Mouse’s transportation is parked at the left side in the front row. I drive by it and enter the lot from the other direction to park near the right side in a neighboring row. From here it’s easy to tell his van is unoccupied. Lessee… where’s he playing this afternoon?

Outside, it doesn’t take me long to find him even though he looks a little different. I guess because of the chilly weather he’s swapped out his baseball cap for a black pullover hat. Unrelated to the climate he’s traded his tennis shoes for golf shoes. He’s all, like, Pro ‘n stuff.

I don’t know what the temperature is but, me being 100% cold-intolerant, after placing Mouse I flee to my warm car to defrost myself. I know he comes here often but I’ve never stuck around to find out how long he actually stays. On this occasion I decide to.

I pay several bills over the phone, read “Cops” by Mark Baker cover-to-cover, and lower my window to say to a tiny, cute gal wearing a tiny, cute golfing skirt I think she’s insane to be that bare-legged at whatever iceberg degree it is. She giggles and lifts her micro to show me her short-shorts beneath. Why, there’s nothing like thermal panties to make it seem like it’s positively Summer out there.

The digits on the clock ooze from one number to the next. This is worse than watching Porn Star watching a dealer. More than two hours elapse before Mouse returns to the lot, loads up his sports accessories, and changes into his original attire.

I figured he’d be here a while, but two freakin’ hours? I mull over these recurrent excursions of Mouse’s as he drives, with me close behind, right smack back to the JADE office where we started. I swear I will never again just sit there and wait like that after tailing one of these guys. Unless…

As It So Happens

• Granville Fields is the one I have the most pictures of.
• Jon McKay is the one I like the best.
• Jon Seitz is the one I know the most about.
• Jimmy Bunch is the one I know the least about.
• Joe Hatter is the one I’ve least followed.
• Brian O’Donnell is the one I’ve most interacted with.
• Don Campbell is the one I’ve never spoken to.
• John Stoltz is the one I’ve never phoned.
• Paul Best is the one who seems most helpful.
• John Baber is the one who seems least intimidating.
• Joe Fleming is the one I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
• I am the one who thinks people take all this too seriously.

Wireless

Right News (Wrong/Date)

Subtitle: Didn't I Just Mention JADE's Lack Of Media Coverage Like Two Days Ago? Subsubtitle: This Should Have Been Last Week's Story.

A Mineral man is behind bars facing drug charges.

38-year-old James Hollins III is charged with possession of cocaine with the intent to distribute.

Investigators from the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force say they seized about five ounces of cocaine during a bust on Lexington Avenue in Charlottesville Thursday (6/4) night.

The cocaine has a street value of $4800.

WCAV.

Not A Meth Lab After All -- Chemistry Major Pleads Guilty To Possession

From NBC29:

A University of Virginia student admitted Wednesday to illegally possessing amphetamine. Police, drug officers and haz-mat teams were all called to his apartment off 14th Street in Charlottesville back in March after several reports of chemical odors were reported.

20-year old Ian Diner, a second-year at the time, admitted he was guilty as part of a plea deal with the Commonwealth.

Lab reports indicate Diner was extracting amphetamine from Adderall pills, a stimulant, but not cooking meth as first had been thought.
[...]
The possession charge carries up to ten years in jail. Under the agreement, Diner likely won't be sentenced to more than probation.

More.

Apple Addict

News From Then

December 2007

A two-year investigation into a massive regional methamphetamine distribution ring resulted in 24 convictions, federal prosecutors announced Thursday.

Authorities busted two major organizations responsible for the distribution of more than 100 pounds of methamphetamine in Central Virginia, according to the U.S. Attorneys Office.
[...]
Lt. Don Campbell with the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement task force said his department was involved in the investigation through wiretapping and serving warrants.

The Charlottesville area's methamphetamine problem pales in comparison with that of the Shenandoah Valley, Campbell said.

Campbell said JADE has only found two or three small methamphetamine labs during his five-year tenure. The labs were nowhere near the size of the ones found in the federal case, he said.

More.

OLIO

I was practicin’ my invisibleness. How’d it go? you ask. Not sure; maybe someone like Spot the adorable could tell you.

_________________________

JADE seems to be making an awful lot of Ay-rests lately that aren’t making news. Typical, I suppose. Out of 167 arrests credited to Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement in 2007, less than a dozen got coverage. (At the end of that year local rag The Hook used a one-liner to ridicule the Task Force for bragging about a 10 gram cocaine seizure.) 2008 saw a miniscule increase in reports. For the most part JADE is untouched by the media. That’s one of those “Secondary” type things I’m methodically exploring these days.

_________________________

Realizing I neglected to make a copy of a document, I revisited the source. I expected to find Truck’s name on the record but, to my astonishment, now in its place is a woman’s. In lieu of the evidence that nothing else has changed to explain the switch, I’m going with it being the detective’s girlfriend -- whose name I did not have and did not want. Looks like in his effort to prevent people from scraping up any of his personal information in the future, Truck has actually managed to provide folks with more. So, um, yeah, that was m-f-ing brilliant of him.

_________________________

Boomslang -- I told you he’d be back -- mentioned I HeArTE JADE is under boycott. The theory is that if it doesn’t get any readers, I’ll abandon it. Really? Really? Hey, someone let me know how that works out.