Sentencing And... Stereotyping ?

June 2011
Large meth ring operated out of Southwood trailer park

Two men are set to be sentenced today in federal court in Charlottesville for their role in a drug-trafficking pipeline that funneled Mexican methamphetamine into Southwood Mobile Home Park, according to officials.

From Southwood, the meth was parceled out for sale as far away as Lexington, according to Brian McGinn of the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Western District of Virginia.

Charlottesville itself wasn’t a major market for the drug, said city police Lt. Don Campbell, who heads the local narcotics task force. Rather, said Assistant U.S. Attorney Nancy Healey, the trailer park was used as a distribution hub...

Confidential witnesses have told police that at least as early as December 2009 dealers were making the trips to Georgia...

Excessive cutting of the drug was sometimes a source of conflict among the dealers, Campbell said...

The meth coming in from Mexico is cooked in labs there, and is quite pure to start with, according to Campbell.

“It’s not the cheap biker-type meth or the meth that people cook locally,” he said.

Even people relatively low in the now-dismantled organization were selling relatively large quantities of the drug, Campbell said.

Campbell described the local operation as being led by Salmeron-Duque, with a more loosely organized group below him.

“They said that they were the main source for meth [in Central Virginia] at that time,” Campbell said.

(More)

Two other articles, neither of which mention the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force’s role:

Two Men Involved in Meth Ring Face Jail Time and Deportation

Two Men Sentenced in Connection with Albemarle County Drug Ring

ix-Nay on the ADE-Jay

I told y’all that Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement’s big-time role in this would eventually be swept under the rug. Can’t really blame C’ville for not wanting people to know their well-funded JADE task force couldn’t tell the difference between a Meth lab and a Chem major’s pad.

Sentence of Former UVA Student Deferred
Posted: Oct 21, 2009 10:19 PM EDT
Updated: Oct 22, 2009 2:51 PM EDT

A former University of Virginia student who pleaded guilty to illegally possessing amphetamines had his sentencing deferred Wednesday afternoon.

The court placed 20-year-old Ian Diner on probation and will revisit his case next October.

In March 2009, police and HAZMAT teams were called to Diner's apartment on 14th Street, worried about an illegal drug lab.

Source.

The Hook doesn’t mention the Task Force by name in their piece about Diner either, although, to be fair, the local rag hasn’t been very pro-JADE -- especially recently -- and their headline “Illegal student chemist gets a pass” is a little clumsy (it’s not the student chemist that’s illegal) but otherwise it’s worth a read.

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.

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.

Inquiring Minds Want To Know

1. Whatever happened with that UVA chemistry major’s apartment Meth lab?

Nearly a month has passed since Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement responded to reports of pernicious odors emanating from a unit in the Grand Marc complex on 15th Street NW. On the evening of the initial call out, JADE Lt. Don Campbell seemed uncertain whether the alleged “potentially harmful” chemicals found inside the building were being used to manufacture drugs. A variety of substances were sent to a state crime lab in Richmond for analysis and as yet there has been no word on the results. Sources close to the former occupants of the apartment express doubt that there ever will be.

2. Why does the JADE Task Force continue to bust people for paltry amounts of cocaine when they could be going after the 2.2 pound vending machines that their notations indicate they know about?



According to Herb “cocaine and crack drive the violence in this community” and JADE’s “main goal in Charlottesville is reducing the violence.” Taken at face value that could explain the Task Force recently seizing a mere few ounces of powder and arresting Joniel Renere Edwards. Investigation into Edwards’ criminal history indeed shows how dangerous the man is; he’s been charged with such violent offenses as speeding, operating an uninspected vehicle, failure to appear (dismissed), and possession of marijuana. I dunno. I must be missing something.

From Brain To Bullet List

I’ve been mulling over the recent Grand Marc Meth story.

Earlier this week local Charlottesville media reported an apartment in their city was a “suspected Meth lab” or “possible drug lab.” The allegation gained support when Lt. Don Campbell, speaking on behalf of JADE, said upon inquiry “we think it’s possibly some type of drug lab.” The Lieutenant also stated that the chemicals discovered had been sent elsewhere “to find out what exactly we have.”

Though there are conflicting accounts regarding whether two people were found inside the apartment or had returned to it at a later time, one thing that seems to be certain is no arrests were made.

• Forget the media, let’s get right to JADE. “Think” it is? “Possibly”? What kind of low-level nitwit-filled Narcotics Task Force are we talking about here that doesn’t know if what it stumbled into is a drug lab?
• Perhaps actually Lt. Campbell and his team know exactly what it is, they just don’t want anyone to know they know. They’re being shrewd. After all they haven’t made any arrests yet.
• Maybe they can’t charge anyone without confirmation from the place they sent the chemicals to. Red tape and all that jazz.
• No matter if JADE can or can’t identify drug-making grounds, those two suspects connected to the apartment would know if they'd been operating a drug lab. Come. On.
  
• If I was running a Meth lab and I hadn’t been arrested when Drug Enforcement uncovered it, I wouldn’t hang around waiting for them to get back the results of their lab tests. Voy a Tijuana! Or at least Florida.
• Is the Drug Task Force hoping to flip someone in this -- you know cultivate informants? JADE wouldn’t be able to function without informants. Take away their snitches and they got nothing. I’m just sayin’.
• Could it be the “suspects” already are JADE informants?
• A Meth lab, it may not even be.
  
• Media have altered initial coverage. That makes it more challenging to get to the bottom of things.

Ya Didn't Really Think I'd Let This One Slide By, Did Ya?

Dear Police Chief Longo,

I can’t help but notice that while you’ve ordered me to not do the same, other media appear to be permitted to publicize images and personally identifiable information of your Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement (JADE) Task Force Officers with impunity.

Surely you would concede that a major televising Charlottesville news station and its subsidiary website have a larger audience than my individual Internet blog. If that's indeed the case, I would think your prior communications with me about the aforesaid matter would not only apply to them, and similar mainstream mediums, but so much more so.

I don’t expect you to rescind your order -- especially in lieu of the fact that I’ve ignored it (on the grounds that I believe you have no authority to issue such a command) -- but I would be interested in hearing your justification for the divergence.

If you would like to discuss this with me, you may call anytime; feel free to get my number from any one of the several officers who has it.

Sincerely,

MethBusters

March, 2009.
jade charlottesville


Charlottesville police believe someone may have been running a meth lab out of the Grand Marc Apartments on 15th Street northwest near the UVA corner. Fire, hazmat and police crews were all called to the scene because of reports of a suspicious odor.

Police say they received information Tuesday around 10:00 p.m. about strong chemical odors coming from apartment 301 15th Street northwest. The initial call was received by the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement task force.

"I'm glad they called us because it could have been a dangerous situation," said Lieutenant Don Campbell with the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement task force.
jade charlottesville

A Hint Of History

Herb.

Every day, when he arrives at work, Herb parks his sand-or-maybe-it’s-gold-colored Impala in the same lot, in the same row, in the same space. And there it remains until hours later Herb leaves in it all by his lonesome, presumably to go home. Maybe that’s an overstatement -- there are episodic deviations -- but it does seem to be the general rule. So much so, that whenever I’m not around, eyes and ears for me don’t bother mentioning his or his car’s presence at JADE; the information is axiomatic.

But on this particular night I am around and Herb’s vehicle is predictably and neatly tucked inside its stock three white lines. Herb himself is in the 965 office. All of the other Drug Enforcement fellows and their rides are absent. It’s dark, and quiet.

As far as I know the Task Force has no plans of making a drug bust or anything later but I’m keyed up almost as much as if they do.

In less than an hour I’m supposed to meet with my very favorite JADE source. I mischievously call him Boomslang, which, because he incorrectly thinks other people are as smart as him, makes him extremely paranoid someone will figure out who he is. It’s not been beneath him to implore earnestly that I don’t write the anonym down, and it’s not been beyond me to be dismissive of him about it. I comply with every-single-thing else he asks of me so, hush!

Herb comes out of the Ix building carrying his trusty briefcase and strolls by me in my car. He doesn’t exhibit quintessential law enforcement attributes but I’m versed with his background. His can of whoop ass is as full as the rest of the JADE guys’.

Herb is the only Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement member left whose home address I haven’t yet confirmed. The place I’m almost for sure must be where he lives is not more than a few miles away.

I get to thinking a good way to burn up some time and this wild energy! energy! energy! in me would be to tail Herb. So I do. Only…

He isn’t going to the location I assumed he would. Not even in the same direction.

I follow him on various familiar streets before the two of us eventually merge onto the Interstate. I don’t know why -- could be wishful thinking -- but I take it for granted we aren’t going far. Huh-uh. We travel so long down I-64 I start looping the refrain from that song by The Who in my head. For miles and miles and miles and miles… I watch the numbers on the clock grow higher.

I get to thinking I’m going to mess up meeting with my spy and, bent on that not happening, plan to get off at the next exit, dropping Herb, and reverse direction. Only…

Forever passes with nary a turnaround to be found. Not even one of those pretentious “Authorized Vehicles Only” places.

Herb and I have been cruising at a moderate speed this whole way. I know how much time it’s taken to get us here where we are, therefore I know how much time it’s going to take to get me back where we were. In other words I’m sorely aware that even if I go all out race-car-driver, if I don’t get spun around in the next couple of minutes I’ll miss Boomslang. Aside from the fact that I overall adore the man, what we go through to manage these get-togethers of ours would make one hell of a plot line for Mission: Impossible. Zealously I plaster the gas pedal to the carpet.

All of a sudden I’m going so much faster than Herb, it looks like he isn’t moving. Exactly like one of those painted white dashes on the highway, he is. As I overtake him I narrowly slice back into the lane he’s in. No sooner do I do this that an exit ramp appears. I shoot up it like Rocky Hardcore about to hurdle an airplane. In the mirror, through the nocturnal air behind me I notice Herb’s blinker. He’s taking this exit too. I muse whether he’s purposely coming after me or does he often travel this road?

On his way up the incline, Herb’s signal goes out then flashes on again. He intends to turn right. Having neglected to get the exit number, I turn right, as Herb will, and scan for any road signs to tell me something about my surroundings and where this run of asphalt leads. I don’t want the trip to be an entire waste but since the green lights of the clock promise that’s exactly what it’s going to be, I resort to busting a U-ie in the middle of the vacant street. As I bolt from the environs, I unenthusiastically watch Herb wend by on the opposite side to I know not where. I use aspirations of “next time” to make peace with the abortion.

With few seconds to spare I arrive back and upon seeing him standing there on the sidewalk, hands crossed on biceps, looking all tough and authoritative-like, I uncharacteristically fling my arms around my very favorite JADE source and my failure with Herb evanesces.

A Tale Of A Tail

Unbeknownst to them, I’ve followed the men of the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force all over the place. After loads of trial and error, I’ve gotten rather good at tailing them. Together we’ve covered just about every inch of Charlottesville; we’ve traveled around Albemarle county; and we’ve crossed into numerous other counties. With rare exceptions, I’ve gone largely undetected. Until lately, that is.

I know these guys think they’re slick, and maybe they think I’m not, but my stealth mode is so, like, yesterday’s news. They’re seeing me because I’m not trying to hide. I’ve got ulterior motives for doing this but I see no point in going into them just yet. Instead I’m going to share one of a ton of adventures I’ve had with the JADE officers. Whereas events like this one plausibly encourage them to underestimate me, they also serve as a reminder that I shouldn’t overestimate me.

I’m on my way to get a cup of coffee. I recognize Rasmussen’s Impala as it passes by me going in the opposite direction I am. Aha! Change of plans. I decide to follow him. I slow down to barely moving and give him time to get to the end of the street before I swing a U-turn in the middle of the road.

An unusually high amount of cross traffic has held him, and a long line of other automobiles, up at the intersection. I join the crowd, stopping behind a newer model silver Monte Carlo, and wait to go left as Rasmussen did. I watch him turn right at the next junction and do the same. With minimal cars between us, we work our way out of the downtown region.

Approaching the 250 bypass we have two lanes to choose from. Rasmussen hugs the double yellow line in the center of the road, giving me the impression he intends to make a left. He pulls into the right lane. The way the road is designed, his occupation of that lane doesn’t necessarily mean he can’t go left from it. Ugh. This light is taking For-Ev-Er.

I continue to assess his placement: If he was going anywhere that would require him to make a right from our location, there are much better and faster ways he could have gone. If I, with my lousy sense of direction, know that, surely he, someone familiar with the area, does also. My feeling that he’s going the way I first thought doesn’t change. But, in case I’m mistaken, I come to rest in the same lane as him. The Chevrolet I noticed earlier is, as before, separating us. When the light goes green, we go left.

For a while we travel straight at a steady pace. On the one hand, I don’t especially care if Rasmussen spies me; on the other hand, I’m not inclined to tip him off prematurely. I figure as long as the Monte Carlo is handy I’ll put it to good use as a sort of barrier.

Now I have Monte Carlo on the brain. I like Monte Carlos. Dasani drives one of them. Like the one in front of me his is silver too but, unlike it, his has ultra-dark tinted windows. Right now his is parked down at the JADE building in his preferred spot for it.

Somehow or another we wind up on route 29 heading north. With a choice of several lanes to pick from I ease out of the one Rasmussen is in to an adjacent one.

Most of the day has been crummy-yucky-rainy. I’ve had to keep adjusting my lights in accordance with the weather. Presently it’s dry but overcast; I flip my lights to an appropriate setting. I can’t believe that Monte Carlo is still here. What’s the deal -- they're not, like, together are they?

In an uncommon stroke of luck, Rasmussen and I simultaneously get caught at or make it through several, seemingly evenly spaced, traffic signals. We’re leaving the built-up area and consequently the number of lanes drops. I squeeze my vehicle into a row approximately six cars back from Rasmussen’s. Okay, why is that Monte Carlo still here?

For a spell the traffic signals are at greater intervals. It doesn’t last long. We’re soon back to busier surroundings and the road widens again. As if connected by an invisible hitch Rasmussen and the Monte Carlo smoothly flow in unity from this lane to that one. The display clinches it for me. Oh. My. God. They are together! I burst out laughing.

It occurs to me that whoever’s in the Monte Carlo probably thinks it’s him I’ve been following. Yet more hilarious it undoubtedly has to appear that I’m operating well below the skill level of a retard.

I watch Rasmussen move to the farthest left lane. The Monte Carlo tries to do the same but traffic hinders him. The driver puts his turn signal on and tries again. He and a Toyota are almost side by side and the person evidently isn’t going to be getting out of the way any time soon. The light which Rasmussen has successfully made it through isn’t in our favor. The blinker on the Monte Carlo goes out, ostensibly in harmony with the driver’s realization he’s going to be forced to stop.

Up ahead I see Rasmussen’s car get caught in a turn lane at a red light of his own. All right, who the hell is that in the Monte Carlo? Idling behind it, I peer at the side mirror of the Chevrolet looking for a face. Nothing. I’m at the wrong angle to see his reflection in his rearview mirror. I push my feet to the floor to raise myself up. My butt is off the seat, the top of my head is smooshed up against the ceiling, and I’m shifting around hoping to catch sight of him. All that’s visible is the brim of a dark baseball cap. I sigh and drop my body back down into place.

The light changes and the Monte Carlo shoots off, obviously to get in front of the Toyota that wouldn’t let him in just a minute ago. This time he succeeds. Since I expect he’s going to be joining Rasmussen at the upcoming signal, I don’t put quite as much effort into switching over as he did.

There are two left turn lanes. Rasmussen and the Monte Carlo are in the right one. I get in the left one which already has two vehicles in it. At this instant all I want to do is find out who’s driving the Monte Carlo. I’m guessing it’s Dasani but I’d like to know for sure. From where I am I can’t see anything more than half of the back of the guy’s head and the edge of his jaw line. I wish he’d turn his face but I’m well aware he won’t do any such thing. I know he knows precisely where I am. I note a Bluetooth or something attached to his left ear. I can hear him talking and assume he’s communicating with Rasmussen.

I redirect my eyes to the leading car. Rasmussen has a passenger. I think it’s Herb. Yes, the same Herb who just the other day had my car pointed out to him. Lovely. This gets better and better. Not only do they know I'm following them, they know I am following them. Great. Great, great, great. I start laughing again; it’s so unbelievably ridiculous.

Ah, well, thanks to a previous situation with another set of JADE members, I not only know what their next trick will be, I predict it’ll be happening within thirty seconds of our turning. I’m committed to completing the turn but I have an idea for afterwards.

The light gives us a go and we all advance. In a beautiful display of near synchronicity, Rasmussen suddenly veers into a parking lot on the right via its first entrance, the Monte Carlo passes by him but swoops around into the same place using a second entrance, and I make a rapid U-turn to leave the whole array in the background. Hey I may be dumb, but I ain’t… as dumb as they are.

One final gaze over my shoulder reveals them situated driver’s-side to driver’s-side in the lot, presumably calculating how to proceed.

As for me, there’s a lot to be learned from a fourteen mile long egregious error. And while I’m not going to shut down the show, so to speak, I can pretty much guarantee I won’t be repeating this particular performance.

The Longer Version (With Oodles of Parentheticals)

Absent a tremendous amount of details, prior to my decision to do any of this I'd received two bully calls from a certain FBI agent. (I know him because, again, absent a tremendous amount of details, some time ago I found myself in the position of being a witness for the prosecution in a federal unrelated-to-drugs case.) My response to the agent's bullying was to accumulate information about the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force (there's a conjunction, I swear). No doubt this was not the result the agent was going for.

The day that I took these images, I got... well, I don't want to say "busted" or even "caught" as those words somehow imply wrongdoing. The facts are that I was at 2nd Street SE (a very busy, populated, public place), in the afternoon (broad daylight), outfitted in slacks, a dressy tube-top, and an awesome super-fuzzy white jacket (not even remotely resembling suspiciously-up-to-something attire), and I was observed taking photographs (likely because I wasn't trying to hide that I was doing so).

Afterwards I was in my car (about to leave but rearranging some items first) when I overheard (I have excellent hearing) a female's voice in the distance talking about my picture-taking. My rearview mirror showed a woman pointing me and my car out to two JADE officers, Herb and Pringle. I turned around in the driver's seat and watched, waiting (uber-inquisitive) to see what the TF guys would do. They stared, and conferred, and stared and conferred some more, and I stared back and didn't confer (since I had no one to confer with) until I saw one of the men get on his cell phone. I assumed (and didn't really care) he was calling in my tags. Since after a few minutes neither of them gave any indication they intended to come over and talk to me (too bad 'cause that would've been far more interesting), I backed out and went on my way.

The incident earned me another menacing phone call from the FBI agent, no surprise, only this time his threat was very specific.

Honestly, originally I intended to keep whatever I learned about the JADE Task Force to myself. I have to admit he's got me rethinking my original intent. Rest assured though, like before, my reaction is probably not going to be what the agent had in mind. (Have I mentioned how much I don't appreciate intimidation tactics?) For the moment, my response to his latest is what's showing up on this blog.

Days go by and my very best informant tells me that, for a few nights running, the parking lot where JADE is located has been completely emptied of vehicles by late hours. Even the TSU trucks and Level 3 vans which were formerly always kept in the lot overnight are conspicuously missing. Level 3 trailers have been strangely reparked (they sit perpendicularly centered, taking up three or four spaces each). Random cars left in the lot have been spied with tickets on them, and tow trucks have been observed frequenting the immediate area. The only automobiles present are essentially the SUVs belonging to the Charlottesville Newsplex, and, of course, Task Force transportation. This report sparks my curiosity like you would not believe!

It was also brought to my attention that, after all the effort I put into it, this site went from page three to page one to not appearing at all, anywhere, anymore, in a Google search. That's okay as, technically, I know how to get around that obstacle if I feel the need to. But more importantly, though I wanted people to see iHeArTEjade, it's not and never was the be-all end-all method to disseminating any information I might eventually want propagated. My real plan won't be so easily interfered with (insert overdramatic diabolical laughter here).

In all seriousness, I don't have much. I do have enough intelligence to, within the confines of the law, effectually take on what I believe is nothing more than a group of arrogant thugs.

Just like they were completely unaware of what I was up to with them, I have no idea what they're doing in regards to me. But consider this: They can't take away what I know. And once it's out there... It's. Out. There. They can't get it back.

Will the Federal Bureau of Investigation make good on its threat? Time will tell. The bottom line: Maybe I'll have to do the same.