Showing posts with label Tactics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tactics. Show all posts
20110217
“Intricate Manipulation”
From the confines of my vehicle, I keep an eye on people coming and going through the doors of the building I’m watching. Not all of those scurrying about are officers, but, cooped inside those four walls, members of Law Enforcement are certainly the majority. I’m seeking the whereabouts of one of them in particular.
I’m dressed casual, though there’s a stylish blazer hung over the seat next to me; such, combined with the sling-back heels on my feet, is all it’ll take to transform my ordinary clothes into daywear any professional type would be proud of.
Tucked between the gear shift and my leg are a couple of empty folders and a medium-sized Manila envelope. In preparation for my ruse, I pull the coverings out and shove various inconsequential papers loosely inside: real estate publications, printouts detailing the inner-workings of a video camera, topped off with a yellow copy of an old speeding ticket protruding from the edge to encourage an impression of “official looking.”
In short time I spot someone exiting the establishment whom I judge to be susceptible to my subterfuge. I quickly yank on my jacket. Documents in hand, I move from car to parking lot towards the policeman.
He’s mildly attractive -- decent height, nice body -- and coming in my direction at a relaxed gait. The sides of his lips lift nicely when his eyes catch mine.
Feigning an expression of relief, I first gander at his face before deliberately switching my gaze to drift over the place of occupation he’s come from. Reaffixing my focus on his mug, I expel the words “Hi; can you… help me?”
He’s more than willing to. Inwardly I smirk -- do I know how to pick ‘em or what?
Making a display of the items in my grasp, I tell the accommodative fellow all about how I’ve planned to drop something off to a certain someone. “Am I at the right place?” “Is he working now, ‘cause I’m sort of early you know?”
I haven’t lied, exactly, though it is entirely my fault he’s been led to believe what my hands contain are currently supposed to go to one of his co-workers. Hey, I’ve learned from the best how to stage-manage the thought processes of the unknowledgeable; Law Enforcement is notorious for doing so.
Through communication I gather, yes, the guy I’m searching for is at this location, merely out-of-office for the day. Ha! The information is as I suspected.
I respectfully thank the gentleman in front of me for his assistance. As I pivot around to return to my auto, he generously offers to, later, bring the things I’m holding to their intended, or at least escort me inside to leave them with somebody else who can pass them along.
“Ah, kind of you, but I’d rather deliver them in-person” I say.
He laughs and gestures at himself. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Oh I always trust a man with a badge. It’s my weakness.” With a wink and a wave, I then depart.
I’m dressed casual, though there’s a stylish blazer hung over the seat next to me; such, combined with the sling-back heels on my feet, is all it’ll take to transform my ordinary clothes into daywear any professional type would be proud of.
Tucked between the gear shift and my leg are a couple of empty folders and a medium-sized Manila envelope. In preparation for my ruse, I pull the coverings out and shove various inconsequential papers loosely inside: real estate publications, printouts detailing the inner-workings of a video camera, topped off with a yellow copy of an old speeding ticket protruding from the edge to encourage an impression of “official looking.”
In short time I spot someone exiting the establishment whom I judge to be susceptible to my subterfuge. I quickly yank on my jacket. Documents in hand, I move from car to parking lot towards the policeman.
He’s mildly attractive -- decent height, nice body -- and coming in my direction at a relaxed gait. The sides of his lips lift nicely when his eyes catch mine.
Feigning an expression of relief, I first gander at his face before deliberately switching my gaze to drift over the place of occupation he’s come from. Reaffixing my focus on his mug, I expel the words “Hi; can you… help me?”
He’s more than willing to. Inwardly I smirk -- do I know how to pick ‘em or what?
Making a display of the items in my grasp, I tell the accommodative fellow all about how I’ve planned to drop something off to a certain someone. “Am I at the right place?” “Is he working now, ‘cause I’m sort of early you know?”
I haven’t lied, exactly, though it is entirely my fault he’s been led to believe what my hands contain are currently supposed to go to one of his co-workers. Hey, I’ve learned from the best how to stage-manage the thought processes of the unknowledgeable; Law Enforcement is notorious for doing so.
Through communication I gather, yes, the guy I’m searching for is at this location, merely out-of-office for the day. Ha! The information is as I suspected.
I respectfully thank the gentleman in front of me for his assistance. As I pivot around to return to my auto, he generously offers to, later, bring the things I’m holding to their intended, or at least escort me inside to leave them with somebody else who can pass them along.
“Ah, kind of you, but I’d rather deliver them in-person” I say.
He laughs and gestures at himself. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Oh I always trust a man with a badge. It’s my weakness.” With a wink and a wave, I then depart.
20100830
Have You Ever Looked Fear In The Face And Said I Just Don’t Care?
Today, without a search warrant, a cellular phone, laptop, camera, GPS, inverter, power cords, and hell knows what else, were seized from my vehicle by City of Charlottesville police officers.
Someone let me know when harassment, intimidation, and coercion laws can be equally applied to Law Enforcement members. Just don’t bother letting me know by phone since they’ve removed that method of contact from me.
Someone let me know when harassment, intimidation, and coercion laws can be equally applied to Law Enforcement members. Just don’t bother letting me know by phone since they’ve removed that method of contact from me.
20100531
Trooper Holiday
Last time I saw Virginia State Trooper Ledbetter was St. Patrick’s Day. Obviously I know who he is, so spotting him this Memorial Day was not excessively wowing. But I did want to find out who his paisano was.
I stroll into Firehouse Subs. Had I been thoughtful rather than spontaneous, I would’ve brought cash in with me. You know, to buy something. The only excuse I’ve left myself for being in there? The restroom. Drats.
I walk the full length of the restaurant. Ledbetter’s buddy is at the fountain drinks. With his back towards me. I can’t exactly spin him around, can I? Drats.
I go through the door marked “Firewomen.” Count in my head what would be an appropriate amount of time to be in there if I were using it as it’s intended. I exit. Only to realize the unidentified Trooper is visiting the men’s toilet. Drats.
By-a-table Ledbetter does a conspicuous double-take of me. Probably because my hair is electric purple. I smile and vacate the eatery empty-nameded. Drats.
Uhm, when’s the next holiday?
I stroll into Firehouse Subs. Had I been thoughtful rather than spontaneous, I would’ve brought cash in with me. You know, to buy something. The only excuse I’ve left myself for being in there? The restroom. Drats.
I walk the full length of the restaurant. Ledbetter’s buddy is at the fountain drinks. With his back towards me. I can’t exactly spin him around, can I? Drats.
I go through the door marked “Firewomen.” Count in my head what would be an appropriate amount of time to be in there if I were using it as it’s intended. I exit. Only to realize the unidentified Trooper is visiting the men’s toilet. Drats.
By-a-table Ledbetter does a conspicuous double-take of me. Probably because my hair is electric purple. I smile and vacate the eatery empty-nameded. Drats.
Uhm, when’s the next holiday?
20100526
Smart People Don’t Get Bored
I’m revisiting old files of Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement. Thought maybe I’d spot whatever and be inspired to, honestly, I don’t know what.
I need a clever challenge, an innovative plan, a tactical strategy, something indisputably exciting that’s mentally and physically demanding. Task. Force. Tied. I’m learning stock officers, with few exceptions, without deliberate provocation are mega-not stimulating enough; those who surely are intriguing, perhaps it’s merely the infrequency of interaction that’s making them, too, seem unsatisfactory to me.
Befriending JADE targets and victims -- yes, there is a difference -- is a separate game -- brought on by confining me to an environment where I would encounter such -- and an unbloggable one at that.
Where does this leave me? Eyeballing 2008-110 and 2008-113. What are they? June 3rd and 4th onset cases worked by Detective Granville Fields, who is infinitely more attractive than the men those investigations are titled:
Maybe I should just start a band. Any of my readers play guitar?
I need a clever challenge, an innovative plan, a tactical strategy, something indisputably exciting that’s mentally and physically demanding. Task. Force. Tied. I’m learning stock officers, with few exceptions, without deliberate provocation are mega-not stimulating enough; those who surely are intriguing, perhaps it’s merely the infrequency of interaction that’s making them, too, seem unsatisfactory to me.
Befriending JADE targets and victims -- yes, there is a difference -- is a separate game -- brought on by confining me to an environment where I would encounter such -- and an unbloggable one at that.
Where does this leave me? Eyeballing 2008-110 and 2008-113. What are they? June 3rd and 4th onset cases worked by Detective Granville Fields, who is infinitely more attractive than the men those investigations are titled:
Maybe I should just start a band. Any of my readers play guitar?
20100414
It Takes A Task Force To Raze A Dealer
Albemarle Co. Man Arrested in JADE Cocaine Bust
April 14, 2010
Members of the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement (JADE) Task Force arrested one man following a special operation in the 2600 block of Barracks Road in Albemarle County Monday.
Narcotic detectives seized approximately 16 grams of cocaine and seven grams of marijuana.
Dwayne Anthony Goodwin, 29, was arrested for possession of cocaine with intent to distribute and distribution of cocaine.
Goodwin was also arrested on two Albemarle County Circuit Court cAPIAS for distribution of of cocaine from previous JADE operations. He is being held without bond pending a hearing.
Police say the investigation is ongoing and additional charges and arrests are pending.
(Source)
April 14, 2010
Members of the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement (JADE) Task Force arrested one man following a special operation in the 2600 block of Barracks Road in Albemarle County Monday. Narcotic detectives seized approximately 16 grams of cocaine and seven grams of marijuana.
Dwayne Anthony Goodwin, 29, was arrested for possession of cocaine with intent to distribute and distribution of cocaine.
Goodwin was also arrested on two Albemarle County Circuit Court cAPIAS for distribution of of cocaine from previous JADE operations. He is being held without bond pending a hearing.
Police say the investigation is ongoing and additional charges and arrests are pending.
(Source)
20100206
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.
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.
20100131
I Hear Curacao Calling My Name
It’s dumped just enough snow to be irritating on the area this weekend. It, exacerbated by the turn-the-streets-into-sheets-of-icy-glass temperature, has left me trapped inside pining away for the day the climate is pleasant enough for me to don a fabulous dress like this:
which I found at the Charlottesville downtown mall immediately after the icebergs from the last storm melted. I didn’t buy it but I really, really, really wanted to. I could so see it matched with a pair of strappy Gucci heels, a loose updo, and… right, fashion has absolutely nothing to do with the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force.
I had someone tell me recently he misses me writing about JADE. Seems mostly what I do now is post images -- of non-JADE and Virginia State Police officers, at that. Indeed. Because I, both fortunately and unfortunately, am intimately acquainted with the powers that be in that I am aware anything I say will be twisted against me by Law Enforcement.
So, rather than whip up a report about the time I/They/We -- something I would’ve ordinarily done ‘til this inclement weather had passed -- JADE and S/A Jason Trent have forced me to find other means of self-entertainment. While I am currently free to share most of that, the problem is incorporating it here at the same time keeping the site on topic. Since I’ve already multiply mentioned the Task Force utilizes local SWAT teams, things relating to them blend in with I HeArTE JADE to a decent degree. Hence the pictures of Charlottesville Sergeant Mike Farruggio.
That one of him there is from some tactical exercise the CPD did at an about-to-be-demolished building. I love the quotation marks around “unarmed,” as if the, mhmm, cardboard isn’t actually unarmed.
Maybe if I do that to “snowfall,” yesterday’s won’t be real either.
which I found at the Charlottesville downtown mall immediately after the icebergs from the last storm melted. I didn’t buy it but I really, really, really wanted to. I could so see it matched with a pair of strappy Gucci heels, a loose updo, and… right, fashion has absolutely nothing to do with the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force.
I had someone tell me recently he misses me writing about JADE. Seems mostly what I do now is post images -- of non-JADE and Virginia State Police officers, at that. Indeed. Because I, both fortunately and unfortunately, am intimately acquainted with the powers that be in that I am aware anything I say will be twisted against me by Law Enforcement.
So, rather than whip up a report about the time I/They/We -- something I would’ve ordinarily done ‘til this inclement weather had passed -- JADE and S/A Jason Trent have forced me to find other means of self-entertainment. While I am currently free to share most of that, the problem is incorporating it here at the same time keeping the site on topic. Since I’ve already multiply mentioned the Task Force utilizes local SWAT teams, things relating to them blend in with I HeArTE JADE to a decent degree. Hence the pictures of Charlottesville Sergeant Mike Farruggio.
That one of him there is from some tactical exercise the CPD did at an about-to-be-demolished building. I love the quotation marks around “unarmed,” as if the, mhmm, cardboard isn’t actually unarmed.
Maybe if I do that to “snowfall,” yesterday’s won’t be real either.
20100129
Single Sentence Randomness
If I were a snitch I would not want to be seen in broad daylight in prison stripes and handcuffs being escorted by JADE through their parking lot and into their office building.
Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement seriously put a hurtin’ on the local drug world when they busted marijuana mogul Jeremy Manning-Smith.
Courtesy of an I HeArTE JADE reader I have a handy new gadget that makes procurement of this document better than ever.
I’m starting to think this site should have a “Derrière Day” featuring Virginia State Troopers.
Kiss-kiss-kisses to Task Force Officers Don Campbell, John Baber, Jon Seitz, Jon McKay, Tavis Coffin, Joe Hatter, Granville Fields, Brian O’Donnell, Paul Best, Joe Fleming, Jimmy Bunch, and John Stoltz, and VSP Bureau of Criminal Investigation Special Agent Jason Trent; after 14 months, 300 entries, and 1 cheezball arrest, profile views hit the 10,000 mark.
♥
Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement seriously put a hurtin’ on the local drug world when they busted marijuana mogul Jeremy Manning-Smith.
♥
Courtesy of an I HeArTE JADE reader I have a handy new gadget that makes procurement of this document better than ever.
♥
I’m starting to think this site should have a “Derrière Day” featuring Virginia State Troopers.
♥
Kiss-kiss-kisses to Task Force Officers Don Campbell, John Baber, Jon Seitz, Jon McKay, Tavis Coffin, Joe Hatter, Granville Fields, Brian O’Donnell, Paul Best, Joe Fleming, Jimmy Bunch, and John Stoltz, and VSP Bureau of Criminal Investigation Special Agent Jason Trent; after 14 months, 300 entries, and 1 cheezball arrest, profile views hit the 10,000 mark.
20100120
20100118
Identify. Collect. Preserve. Analyze. Report.
I know nothing about them, not really.
But I’ve seen them at JADE.
One male, one female.
FORENSICS on their jackets.
Won’t forget taking their picture that time.
Still makes me laugh.
They work together, a team.
Inseparable? So it seems.
Blue Jeep Cherokee.
Coming, going, always the same one.
I know nothing about them, not really.
And I’m fine with that, for now.
But I’ve seen them at JADE.
One male, one female.
FORENSICS on their jackets.
Won’t forget taking their picture that time.
Still makes me laugh.
They work together, a team.
Inseparable? So it seems.
Blue Jeep Cherokee.
Coming, going, always the same one.
I know nothing about them, not really.
And I’m fine with that, for now.
20100116
Studies On Squad Cars
I got in a habit of noting vehicles that were evidently connected to the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement (JADE) Task Force. Included were JADE officers’ and the unmarked rides of other policemen, plus those that may or may not have belonged to informants. Obviously, with the Task Force revolving around law enforcement activities, marked cruisers were part of the equation, too.
Keeping track of patrol cars didn’t appear useful at the start but sometimes the seemingly insignificant will end up insightful. So I diligently, albeit unenthusiastically, took down their tags and photographed them, and after a while, much to my delight, noticed patterns emerging.
Some only dropped persons off, some only picked items up. Some were SWAT, some were Sheriffs. Some frequently appeared, some were a one time only deal.
The prowlers became a game within a game to me.
I got to the point where I could successfully determine what was going on with JADE, or predict what JADE had in store for later, based on particulars relating to any given patrol car and its passengers.
These days I can’t go near enough to the Task Force building to play like I used to but nothing prevents me from executing Squad Car Analysis.
Oh yeah, did I mention it’s a fabulous cold weather activity?
Keeping track of patrol cars didn’t appear useful at the start but sometimes the seemingly insignificant will end up insightful. So I diligently, albeit unenthusiastically, took down their tags and photographed them, and after a while, much to my delight, noticed patterns emerging.
Some only dropped persons off, some only picked items up. Some were SWAT, some were Sheriffs. Some frequently appeared, some were a one time only deal.
The prowlers became a game within a game to me.
I got to the point where I could successfully determine what was going on with JADE, or predict what JADE had in store for later, based on particulars relating to any given patrol car and its passengers.
These days I can’t go near enough to the Task Force building to play like I used to but nothing prevents me from executing Squad Car Analysis.
Oh yeah, did I mention it’s a fabulous cold weather activity?
20100107
Gee, He Should’ve Gone To Work For JADE; Surely They Pay Better Than A Donation Jar
Nelson Man Accused Of Donation Jar Theft
Posted: Jan 06, 2010 12:30 PM EST
Updated: Jan 06, 2010 12:30 PM EST
A Nelson County man is behind bars accused of stealing from a donation jar.
49-year-old Wilmot “Bill” Packard of Schuyler has been arrested for petty larceny. The sheriff’s office says Packard took money from a jar at a Food Mart on January 2.
The money was supposed to help a family pay for funeral expenses.
Packard is being held without bond at the Albemarle - Charlottesville Regional Jail.
20091231
Do You Realize There Is Almost An Endless Supply Of Virginia State Policemen?
I swear some law enforcement factory in an undisclosed location is just spitting these guys out by the gray and blue cruiserfuls. I’m certain of it, because, as promised, I’ve been accumulating information on, oh, this one and that one, and, like, every time I blink, up pops another this one and that one I know nothing about. I mean check out the amount of employees this Appomattox site lists. 171. In one area? And 32 Special Agents. 32! I don’t know if it’s up-to-date but, based on what I’ve gathered so far, I’m doubting it’s off by a lot.
I’m trying to learn as much as I can about as many as I can before they end the game. If you remember, I only started keeping tabs on them after they wouldn’t stop keeping tabs on me. Consider it my way of leveling the playing field.
First one of their officers I decided to familiarize myself with was Joe Rader:
Cute, isn’t he? Turns out I couldn’t have picked an easier subject. I was done and over him in less than 8 seconds. I amassed stacks of facts on him in ½ that time. What -- you think I’m kidding? Let me show you how nearly effortless it can go.
I’ll demonstrate with someone who’s VSP-connected but irrelevant to what I’m doing.
So that’s the basic process I go through when I resort to using the Internet for investigating.
One of these days I should write about how I found out what BCI Special Agent Jason Trent’s wife looks like. I was trying to dig up something completely different, which makes the whole story extra cool. I have to tell you I was totally expecting his Mrs. to look like a Kendra Wilkinson clone. She doesn’t at all. Not that his spouse isn’t pretty, she’s just lacking the sexpot Bunny-esque-ness that I figured was more his ideal. From what I read she probably outweighs him by a good twenty IQ points, too. Right; I should hop out of the gossip gutter now.
Gosh, I haven’t even gone into what I’m up to with the Virginia State Police when I’m not on the computer. Suffice it to say it doesn’t interfere with Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement, for it’s that, not the VSP, I HeArTE.
I’m trying to learn as much as I can about as many as I can before they end the game. If you remember, I only started keeping tabs on them after they wouldn’t stop keeping tabs on me. Consider it my way of leveling the playing field.
First one of their officers I decided to familiarize myself with was Joe Rader:
Cute, isn’t he? Turns out I couldn’t have picked an easier subject. I was done and over him in less than 8 seconds. I amassed stacks of facts on him in ½ that time. What -- you think I’m kidding? Let me show you how nearly effortless it can go.
I’ll demonstrate with someone who’s VSP-connected but irrelevant to what I’m doing.
- This is the Police Link Law Enforcement Community. A search under the term VSP produces a fair number of results. Deliberately aiming for the least difficult to uncover is no fun; I like a challenge. I’ll ignore the ones with real identities and/or pictures of themselves.
- This is vsp221. No name, no picture. He does give his city. Wytheville. Retired. Also he likes ham radio and his callsign is W4VSP. That actually sucks. Because that is a name.
- This is QRZ.com. An online callsign database. Enter W4VSP into the search box. Go on, I’ll wait. Whadda ya know? Told you it was a name. Alvin E Crane, Jr. With an address. In Wytheville, VA.
So that’s the basic process I go through when I resort to using the Internet for investigating.
One of these days I should write about how I found out what BCI Special Agent Jason Trent’s wife looks like. I was trying to dig up something completely different, which makes the whole story extra cool. I have to tell you I was totally expecting his Mrs. to look like a Kendra Wilkinson clone. She doesn’t at all. Not that his spouse isn’t pretty, she’s just lacking the sexpot Bunny-esque-ness that I figured was more his ideal. From what I read she probably outweighs him by a good twenty IQ points, too. Right; I should hop out of the gossip gutter now.
Gosh, I haven’t even gone into what I’m up to with the Virginia State Police when I’m not on the computer. Suffice it to say it doesn’t interfere with Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement, for it’s that, not the VSP, I HeArTE.
20091128
A Policeman Knew My Name
♫ Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
‘Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) ♫
There’s no shortage of people cycling through the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement workplace. Back when I was first trying to figure out who the Task Force members were, I found myself especially having a blast identifying a number of other cops in order to weed them out from those on the elite narcotics squad.
Uniform-wearing law enforcement posed no problem as obviously I needed only read their name tags:
Plainclothes policemen were a bit trickier and it often took some inventiveness to learn who they were. One such non-JADE officer was of course Charlottesville detective Todd Lucas:
The driver of this vehicle showed up on JADE scenes often enough to pique my curiosity:
I found out the cute Pontiac Grand Prix belongs to D.J. Harris, another non-JADE city detective. He’s this guy in the dark blue shirt:
David Harris is married to federal public defender Andrea Harris, a fact which one of my sources tells me gives his fellow boys in blue something to occasionally grumble about. With one Harris lockin’ thugs up and the other gettin’ them out, I reckon so.
I havta say the Who’s That LEO? game can be highly addictive. When leaving the Harris’ neighborhood, after taking these pictures and ensuring I’d been correct about the man’s identity:
I spotted this has-5-0-written-all-over-it car:
‘Twas sorta hard to miss that hockey puck antenna. Turned out that particular Dodge Intrepid is being used by Albemarle County Sergeant Amos Chiarappa.
Speaking of identifying ACPD men, I do believe I’m almost through ID-ing their Tactical Team:
I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
‘Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) ♫
There’s no shortage of people cycling through the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement workplace. Back when I was first trying to figure out who the Task Force members were, I found myself especially having a blast identifying a number of other cops in order to weed them out from those on the elite narcotics squad.
Uniform-wearing law enforcement posed no problem as obviously I needed only read their name tags:
Plainclothes policemen were a bit trickier and it often took some inventiveness to learn who they were. One such non-JADE officer was of course Charlottesville detective Todd Lucas:
The driver of this vehicle showed up on JADE scenes often enough to pique my curiosity:
I found out the cute Pontiac Grand Prix belongs to D.J. Harris, another non-JADE city detective. He’s this guy in the dark blue shirt:
David Harris is married to federal public defender Andrea Harris, a fact which one of my sources tells me gives his fellow boys in blue something to occasionally grumble about. With one Harris lockin’ thugs up and the other gettin’ them out, I reckon so.
I havta say the Who’s That LEO? game can be highly addictive. When leaving the Harris’ neighborhood, after taking these pictures and ensuring I’d been correct about the man’s identity:
I spotted this has-5-0-written-all-over-it car:
‘Twas sorta hard to miss that hockey puck antenna. Turned out that particular Dodge Intrepid is being used by Albemarle County Sergeant Amos Chiarappa.
Speaking of identifying ACPD men, I do believe I’m almost through ID-ing their Tactical Team:
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