All personally identifying information on this site discovered utilizing resources readily available to the general public. All publicly-obtainable court documents, media reports, and any content of similar nature, provided herein or linked to were pre-published elsewhere by parties other than myself. General images along with my personal photographs are garnered via publicly accessible sources through legal means. The purpose for republishing or otherwise publicizing the information is simply to support the content contained herein.


Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue

“Know what I’d do if I were JADE?”

The reclining target of my question keeps his eyes closed but moves his head half an inch to show he’s listening.

I drum a polished pink nail lightly on the heap of assorted documents I’ve been going through. “If I were JADE, I’d change the way the Task Force files and papers look so that I’d know if I -- ya know, me -- was puttin’ up pictures of old stuff or new stuff.”

My companion laughs hardily. I love his laugh.

I elucidate. “An extra line here, a different graphic there. Rework the case file cover sheet. Maybe use a heart paper punch? Seriously though, just one little unnoticeable modification would be all it’d take.”

Now animated he sits up. “That’s what they do in the military.”

“Yeah?” My attention is somewhat elsewhere. An idea for the site sprung in my head; I’m plucking out some of the items in front of me.

“Yeah” he says. “To find out who’s leaking the info.”

I realize what he’s getting at, pause and frown. “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh’ is right.” He stands, takes his time neatening, zips his uniform. “What are you up to?” he asks coming over to look at my now finished spur-of-the-moment project.

I pick up the camera, smile mischievously, and point. “Ima post pictures of these old things.”

He responds with a robust laugh as he heads out the door back to work. I do love his laugh.




FYI: Flattery doesn’t work on me. Neither does so-called reverse psychology. I may, on occasion, play along with either or both for fun though.

From: Free Email Service
Date: Sun, Feb 21, 2010 at 1:18 AM
Subject: From a fan

[H]i! I am a fan of your site, I just wanted to offer some constructive criticism. If the site is supposed to be about JADE, why are you spending so much time on boring regular uniformed cops? Just wondering b/c I really dig the JADE stuff but really could care less what a low level uniform cop does in his free time. Sorry I had to send this from an anonymous site, but I have seen your capabilities and really just wanted this to be a one way email, ya know?

Aww… bless your little heart; you’re just trying so hard, aren’t you officer? All right, all right, I’ll remove your name(s) and picture from that entry. Now you run along and play in traffic or whatever else it is a “boring” or “low level uniform cop” does. Hugs!


I Don’t Know Whether To Laugh Or To Laugh

I definitely believe members of Law Enforcement, on the whole, are smarter than average. I think they have to be. The ability to learn and retain, not to mention put into practice, all that’s required for them to do their job absolutely takes a heftier than norm IQ. However, I also believe, as intelligent as officers are, they are not above doing strangely dumb things. Bearing that in mind, it’d take some pretty strong evidence to convince me that a policeman would himself go to reddit and beg for a DOS attack on I HeArTE JADE. Nevertheless, I would not put it past one to ask a histrionic buddy of his to do it for him. Especially if his prior attempt to access my photo host backfired.

Whatever the deal is, what I mostly wonder about it is this: if my reposting images from Facebook is equivalent to “targeting our traffic cops for murder” wouldn’t that in turn mean those same so-called traffic cops must be suicidal, since they’re the ones who published their pictures in the first place?


Cyber B&E

So in response to my Facebookin’ post, an Albemarle County police officer tried to crack my image hosting account.

Really, dude? I mean, really?

These policemen actively participate in a massive social network on the world wide web then act as if their privacy is violated when someone calls attention to it? It’s ridiculous. Literally side-aching laugh-out-loud ridiculous.

Lemme clue you in, Mr. ACPD darlin’ -- that’s right I do know who you are, ‘cause I’m all computer-savvy that way; if you object to your appearance as a mere extra on I HeArTE JADE, it’s best not to do things that’ll tempt me into giving you top billing. You see, I love playing games with guys like you. We can kind of get like that whole metaphorical “fuel the fire” thing going on. You understand, don’t ya?


Morgan Harrington

I assume most of my readers know who she was but, for those who do not, Morgan Harrington was a young woman who, in October 2009, disappeared from the John Paul Jones Arena during a Metallica concert she had gone to. Her remains were discovered three months later on January 26 -- my birthday, in fact.

There are two reasons why I bring up Morgan Harrington on a site about Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement.

1. Apparently a group of people got it stuck in their heads that Miss Harrington’s unknown killer is someone JADE arrested for cocaine possession and, to support their theory, they linked to a news article on my site. If it isn’t obvious -- and it must not be -- JADE Task Force Officers generally don’t just roll out of bed one night and an hour later bust a guy they’d never heard of. In other words, whomever they go after they’ve had eyes on for a while. That some JADE-targeted Juan Jesus Julio Oscar Vasquez-Garcia picked up, murdered, then discarded Miss Harrington, then got coincidentally snagged by JADE for drug distribution immediately afterward might make for good storytelling but is likely not reality.

2. Starting shortly after Miss Harrington vanished, different people contacted me asking if I would help find her. Plus at least one person wanted me to, for lack of a better way to put it, monitor the lawmen working the case to find out if they were doing all that they could. I passed these requests up as missing persons are not my thing and also I have no doubt that Law Enforcement is doing their very best for Miss Harrington and her family. Of course once Miss Harrington’s remains were found, it changed my interest somewhat. I won’t expound on that too much, but let me just mention…

1. I saw Virginia State Police Lt. Joe Rader’s February 4, 2010, press conference. It was the oddest and most cryptic press conference I have ever seen. Maybe I’m just not smart enough to “get it” but I think he would’ve achieved the same results if he’d stood out there and said “we know what we’re looking for, and we believe you the community know what we’re looking for, so if you know what we know you know, give us a call.” I was not surprised to learn the thirty minute speech he did give didn’t go over quite the way investigators had intended.

2. The average person trying to solve an official case is at a severe disadvantage if he or she doesn’t have access to identical information and resources as the police. One can use Google Earth to look at a crime scene area all day long but it’s not going to show where a suspect parked, walked, or stopped to smoke a cigarette. One can forum-hop on the ‘net word-dropping “perp” and “unsub” better than any detective on television but it is real detectives who have to wade through that nonsense. That being said, the average person can indeed solve a case. After all, it wasn’t a fellow with a badge but rather a man with a tractor who closed the missing persons file on a young woman who disappeared from the John Paul Jones Arena during a Metallica concert. I hope someone will be able to close the file on her homicide as well.


Moi, An Inspiration? Say It Ain’t So!

Oh y’all so know how I’m going to respond to this, right?

Even though when Mr. Rob Bell’s shady-disguised-as-noble proposal becomes a law it’ll have no affect on me personally, the whole thing still really rubs me the wrong way.

Therefore, as a public service, I intend to launch a new site for the purpose of publishing identical information (that will be) formerly found on government sites about Law Enforcement in the State of Virginia.

If you’re an officer in this State, be sure to thank Mr. Bell and the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force Officers for inspiring me in return. Better yet, just thank City of Charlottesville JADE Detective Brian O’Donnell.


Don't Look Now, But...

There are three Virginia State Policemen, and a Brookneal officer, at the Crescent Restaurant on L P Bailey Memorial Highway in Nathalie, VA.

No, they're not there for lunch.

Oh, bother!

Upon my release I moved all, and I do mean all, my JADE junk to what I now affectionately refer to as the “stash house.” Because the delightfully spiteful Special Agent Jason Trent’s practice of returning seized items was questionable, it’s also where anything and everything new goes.

While this second-party storage arrangement is a good way to prevent theft, loss, damage, a fresh court order, it’s extremely inconvenient!

I mean it used to be whenever I, say, wanted to know if a certain Task Force Officer met with a specific Confidential (ha, ha) Informant, I could just instantly grab a notebook and match dates and times. Now I have to travel elsewhere, in addition to surreptitiously coordinating with the aphrodisiacal guardian -- thus increasing the risk of him being identified. When information I could’ve had in five seconds takes me like five hours to get, it just plain ol’ bites.

Which is why these days I scrap a lot of ideas I have.


An Open Letter To Winter

Dear Winter,

That’s enough.



Thursday’s Operation Is Tuesday’s News

February 2010

Two Arrested in Albemarle County Drug Bust


Members of the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement (JADE) Task Force arrested two men for possession of cocaine following a special operation in the 1700 block of Timberwood Blvd. in Albemarle County.

Narcotic detectives arrested 35-year-old Fidel Martinez-Cortez and 25-year-old Abidan Pimentel for possession of cocaine with intent to distribute. Detectives seized approximately 124 grams of cocaine and $2,728.

JADE officials say the investigation is ongoing and additional charges and arrests are pending.

2 arrested on drug charges
[Charlottesville Daily Progress]

Narcotics detectives arrested two men Thursday as part of a special operation on the 1700 block of Timberwood Boulevard in Albemarle County.

Fidel Martinez-Cortez, 35, and Abidan Pimentel, 25, are charged with possession of cocaine with intent to distribute. Officers seized about 124 grams of the drug and more than $2,700.

No further information was available.

Trooper Tuesday


Lessons Learned

It’s nighttime, late. I turn left onto Rayon St. then go right on Robinson Pl. As I wind the curve, which puts me on Ware St., I see headlights across the road moving in my direction. After all my surveillance it’s nearly unimaginable for me to not recognize the vehicle of a Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force Officer.

The advancing auto is exactly too far away to catch the tag number. By the shape of the front lamps, the outline of the vehicle, the streetlights hinting at the color, it’s the Chevy of either Joe Fleming or Granville Fields. Unless one of us tosses a variable in our course we’re inevitably going to converge at Elliott Ave. Not what I want to happen.

I calmly ease my car into a parallel parking spot in front of a residence just as the Impala rolls to a stop at the intersection. After all my surveillance it’s nearly unimaginable for a Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force Officer to not recognize my vehicle. My brain sends my body the obligatory warning signals -- hair-raising spine-tingling attacks -- when it computes the unknown JADE cop’s car is sitting over there just a wee bit longer than necessary.

Unfortunately I can’t make out his license plate because of a crazy glare from -- who knows what?

On the chance that he, like me, isn’t entirely certain of who he’s looking at, I snap off my headlights and cross my fingers he’ll think I’m really just someone who lives in one of these buildings. The Impala doesn’t budge.

It occurs to me that if I was someone who truly belongs here, about to get out at my home, or whatever, I would probably not continue to hold down the brakes as I’m doing. I shift the gear to “P” and remove my foot from the offending pedal. The red rectangles disrupting the darkness behind me wink out. Still the JADE man waits.

I’m running out of ways to wordlessly justify my activities to the officer so that he’ll be reassured enough to leave. Assuming he assumes if I am, in fact, me, I would not want to be seen, I flip on the interior light above me. I follow up my bluff with a deliberate display of packing items “to carry inside.” The Impala doesn’t bat a wiper blade.

I’m not sure what to do at this point. In frustration I flick the switch above restoring blackness. All of a sudden the Chevy zooms forward and comes charging at me. I laugh at the driver’s belated exhibition of virility. I also completely forget about what I might do and instead let curiosity about the objective of the guy operating the Impala consume me.

Examining the tag of the fast-nearing sedan is rendered unnecessary; I can tell the driver is Granville Fields because his Impala has tinted windows whereas Joe Fleming’s does not. At the instant his front bumper kitty-corners mine the detective decelerates. In movie-style slo-mo he creeps by me. When we are glass to glass I feel him staring into my eyes. For a spilt second I wonder if he’ll dare to put his window down and confront me but, no, he merely crawls on by. I don’t wait for him to change his mind. The moment the rugged policeman clears my auto, I’m out of there.

____________ ____________

When you know where someone is, then you know where he is not. This is important because if someone isn’t where he’s supposed to be, then he might show up somewhere you don’t want him to. On this particular night, Granville Fields is not where he’s supposed to be. This throws the monkey of all wrenches in my plans so I’m forced to go looking for him.

I head into the isolated neighborhood. I haven’t gone far before I note another vehicle has turned here also and is traveling down the street after me. Knowing I’ll be cruising carefully, or possibly stopping entirely, and not wanting to hold up another driver I veer off on a narrow side road to wait for the other person to pass by. I gather too late this is a poor choice of pavement to be on; it’s not going to be simple to return to the main drag from it. Using the nearest of the skinny lane’s imitation driveways as a turnaround, I vaguely acknowledge the lights of the aforementioned car have come and gone.

Back on track, I slowly ease up on the junction I mean to make a turn at and scope it out. On the shoulder, down a distance, at precisely the location I intend to check out, sits a car, facing me, with its lights aglow. A surge of adrenaline shoots through me.

When it comes to this neck of the woods a person can pretty much determine traffic activity in, like, thirty second increments. Plus, there’s only one way in or out of the area. I conclude that car is probably the one I let go by me. Furthermore, it likely belongs to none other than Granville Fields. Adrenaline skyrockets to sickening levels inside me. I absolutely cannot let him catch me here, now, no way!

I can’t very well pull a U right in front of officer Fields nor is it smart for me to race off the way I’m already going. It is possible the reason he’s hovering in that completely anomalous way has nothing to do with me. My tummy is tight with anxiety but I coast on as if all is dandy. No such luck. Through a sparse wall of trees I distinguish he’s coming after me.

I step on the gas hard to gain some ground before he makes it to his turn joining me on this road. Two different impasses are all I have to choose from. The first is straight-on and not only coming up quickly but leaves no room for anything less than a blatant encounter. My heart is boomin’ louder than my stereo. I go left, aiming for the remaining dead end, while visions of that one previous face-off with him replay in my mind. I have an idea.

Approaching the circle, I observe most of the houses have outside lights in full burn. I whisk into the driveway of one that doesn’t and pray there’s no motion sensor. This time I don’t hesitate; I jump out of the car and begin strolling to the unilluminated house literally like I own the place. I’m halfway down the path when the ensuing sedan appears. It slows, stops short of entering the cul-de-sac, scoots into the last drive before it. The detective then reverses and departs. Triumph!

I return to my ride and kill twenty-five minutes in case he also has learned a thing or two from our prior brushes and is hiding somewhere along the sole exit route waiting for me. Relieved I didn’t have to concoct a fairytale for the actual homeowner, I finally take my leave.