A New Shield For An Old Detective

I’m told there are several reasons to tint the windows of one’s car -- keeps the interior cooler, blocks UV rays that can damage not only skin but dashboards and upholstery, too, reduces glare from sun, snow, and headlights, just to name a few. The favorite reason? Privacy. The darker the film, the better the concealment. Explains why criminals and narcotics officers, especially, like it shady.

(before and after)

The thing about having tinted windows for secrecy is, while the black on the glass temporarily hides insiders from outsiders, unless the vehicle’s inhabitants intend to eternally occupy the auto... sooner or later, they have to come out.

Great Quote

You can observe a lot by watching. -- Yogi Berra

By the bye, and you may not believe this, during those few seconds of my days and nights when I'm not JADE watching, I read. I've added another book to the list in my profile.

Visual Cues

I think if I were going to deal drugs, I’d pat down, or outright strip, each potential buyer before I’d sell anything to him or her. Okay; I guess maybe that wouldn’t always be practical. But something I’d definitely do is have every person remove his or her hat before we conducted business -- because while loads of folks wear baseball caps, only a handful of them will toss them off their heads as a distress signal when they’re working an undercover operation.

Literary Comparison

I was thinking about Porn Star’s comments to me; you know, how I’m stupid, and my writing sucks -- that stuff. So I can’t do anything about the former, like Ron White says “You can’t fix stupid. There’s not a pill you can take; there’s not a class you can go to. Stupid is forever.” However I thought if I wrote more like the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force Officers do, it’d perhaps be a way to improve the latter.

SHORTY OVER THE PHONE.
SHORTY ASKED ME IF I COULD GET SOME COKE.
1/2 KILO.

I DID NOT KNOW.
BUT I KNOW SOMEONE
BUT NOT PERSONALLY.

THIS WAS A B/M THAT SOLD IT TO ME.

I GOT THE COKE AT GIANT PKING LOT.

I GO TO HOUSE.

SHORTY TOLD ME HE
WAS THERE + I WAS GOING TO GIVE IT
TO SHORTY.

I WENT TO HOUSE
+ I WAS GOING TO GIVE
COKE TO B/M

SHORTY CALLS ME BACK
+ SAYS I’M RIGHT HERE.

I COME BACK AND GO TO HOUSE.

I dunno. It isn’t bad, I suppose. But if that’s what it takes to make the grade, I think I'd rather smile and take the F.

Precise Location of Access

This:

goes along with this.

Upon seeing the above, I decided to do some research on the whole POE thing. There's a lot more to it than I could've ever imagined! This I found to be especially thought-provoking:

The point of entry into a house, be it a door or a window, is referred to as the fatal funnel. The occupants of the house need only aim their weapons at this point of entry and wait for the target to appear. That target is the law enforcement officer, and at that moment, the officer has no cover and more than likely no idea where the armed occupant of the house is located. The officers are generally back-lit, so their eyes must adjust to the lighting, or lack thereof, in the house. The armed occupants are presented with a clear target and need no time to adjust to the lighting. The officers may have little or no idea of the layout or floor plan of the premises and will require time to acclimate to their new surroundings. The armed occupants, however, need not acclimate themselves, for this is their home turf.

Moreover, the armed occupants know what they intend to do, whereas the officers only can infer whether the armed occupants intend to fight, flee, or surrender. This creates a situation where the occupants fire first because the officers cannot fire until they have determined the occupants' intention to resist. Such encounters in very close quarters frequently make the initial exchange of gunfire conclusive. The armed occupants may not consider possible harm to innocent bystanders, but the officers must. -- Special Agent Michael Bulzomi

Porn Star. Further Frolics and Foul-Ups.

The familiar Honda, materializing out of nowhere, whizzes crossways by me and stops on a dime in front of the door leading to the JADE office. Porn Star jumps out and dashes up the stairs.

I look to the bypath that threads around the construction site and kick around explanations for why he’s come in that way. The road is rarely traveled, even rarer is it used by Task Force members. There’s still swirls of dust hanging in the air above the gravel from Porn Star’s trip along it.

I redirect my gaze to the building where he’s entered. I’m assuming, by the extra hastiness exhibited by the detective, he’s on a mission and will be back outside faster than I can take hold of a camera. I grab one anyway.

Did he set his car alarm? I don’t think he did. Nah, must be my imagination. He would never not do that; I just missed it or something.

After a minute or so, I distinguish the outline of his body through the glass of the exit as he’s returning and fix my eyes immediately on the papers he’s got in his hand when he passes the threshold. The visible top sheet has a large, square-shaped image on it in the upper left corner. Mug shot. I don’t need to see more, just by that multi-shaded block I know what he’s carrying. Connecting it with his infectious energy but detecting no evidence of his protective gear, I sense Porn Star’s about to go have a chat with a shady character as opposed to actually collaring a bad guy.

He’s back in his vehicle. I capture a few pictures, then, hoping to witness the huntsman in action, slip after him out of the lot.

Where were his keys? I recall his hands from moments ago but can’t conjure up a reflection of the metal objects appearing in them. Nor can I recall any motions indicative of them being present -- no palm jiggling, no paws to pockets, no keyless-entry button-pressing. It seems an essential detail but I put the thought on the back burner so I can concentrate on tailing the officer.

I’ve learned some things from following Porn Star that help me shadow him better. The most important? I absolutely positively under no circumstances Cannot Ever dawdle. He speeds. Lower on the list, allowing him more than eight car lengths distance is a guaranteed lose. His blinker usage isn’t dependable therefore I rely on the other signals he provides unintentionally. Like now, I’m sitting one car behind him at the intersection and even though he can go right or straight, I’m positive he won’t be turning. Across we go.

Several parts of the area we’re driving through I suppose would be deemed unsafe. I believe maybe they are dangerous for other people, but these kind of neighborhoods never have much of an effect on me.

We make a right, then a left, and a left, and a right -- so many turns I do declare we’re going in circles. I know we haven’t gone far but it feels like we’ve traveled dozens of miles. Porn Star makes yet another turn up ahead. If memory serves, these skinny side streets eventually lead to a main avenue and a nice district. Sheesh. Why in the world did he drive through Crackville if he didn’t have to?

I copy Porn Star’s turn. He’s stopped about three-quarters way up the road. I slow down. The passenger door opens. Passenger? A foot appears from the vehicle and lands on the pavement. I know those shoes. Eeeeeek! I shriek and swerve into a driveway as Longhead climbs the rest of the way out of Porn Star’s car.

Not good. This. Is bad. After my mini heart attack, I get a picture or two. I back up and discreetly leave the scene. On parting, I’m happy to solve the mystery of Porn Star’s lack of alarm-setting and absent keys: there was another investigator inside his car, protecting it. I’m unhappy I didn’t catch the obvious: it’s unlikely that Porn Star would go meet with a criminal without having a partner. Worse, his backup this time was Longhead. Had it been anyone else, I could’ve stuck around.

Testing, Testing 1 2 3

Years ago ‘twas the clutches of desperation that first prompted me to buy this little device:

While it wound up being absolutely useless in every possible way for my original intentions, its recording abilities are undeniably fantastic. I don’t want to say it picks up everything because that wouldn’t be a favorable evaluation for such a contraption -- more like it picks up exactly what’s needed.

On a newspaper, it’s caught the words of a softly-speaking police chief; from inside a car, the exchange I had with a smokin’ sexy detective; over the phone, conversations with torrents of ethically-questionable people.

During my encounter with two Drug Enforcement investigators, Porn Star, with Longhead standing six inches away, explicitly stated to me that I was no longer permitted on the property where the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement office is located. Longhead, with input from Herb, less than an hour later, tells me on the phone that I am still allowed there. Gosh, it’s a good thing I know these guys would never deliberately give me conflicting information or commands.

Speaking of JADE Task Force members, apparently all of them, and an unknown quantity of folks connected to them, are aware of my penchant for the object, as several men I’ve spoken with recently have either asked if they’re being recorded or outright declared they know they are.

I inquired of one of them if it mattered I was recording him. I was very surprised to hear him reply it did. In my opinion, if you’re on the up and up, it shouldn’t bother you one flippin’ bit that you’re being recorded. And if you’re changing your candor because of an Olympus WS-100, well, then, you’re a shining example of why I carry one.

Porn Star. Third Time's a Charm?

Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement members will occasionally park their cars outside of their conveniently-located “cop zone.” Porn Star must want the exercise ‘cause he’s left his vehicle a good distance away from the front door more than once today.

It’s early evening. I watch his car coming back in from Elliott Avenue and my eyes follow it all the way to a space about 15 feet in front of me.

Even though I’ve been much, much, nearer to some of these guys than this -- in none of those instances have they taken notice -- I’m still struck with a healthy amount of apprehension when in such close proximity. No telling what their reactions will be in response to what I’m doing but I certainly would prefer to skip being confronted by a possibly vexed man with a badge over something that's harmless.

Cautious but not to the level of consternation, I shoot some pictures. The beeps of the camera as I press the shutter sound to me as loud as a foghorn. My window is down. With every push of the button I wait for him to glance back to locate the noise. A sting in my chest alerts me that I’m holding my breath. I remedy that.

It’s been a long time since I’ve followed Porn Star. Now with his appearance, it’s sort of a toss-up whether it’ll be Pringle or him who I’ll be tagging after. When Porn Star comes out a short six minutes later, the question is no longer up in the air.

I let him lead me out to Elliott Ave. We subsequently roll around the stop sign to make a right. The light up ahead winds up being green and we turn left without delay. So far, so good. I don’t think we go 50 feet before Porn Star drops a concrete block on his gas pedal. I was expecting this from him but no way I can do the same without calling attention to myself. I think I’ll give him a splash of space before I try to catch up. Major mistake.

The speed limit of the road we’re on is 45mph. He exceeds that and the opening between us widens. I’m struggling just to keep him in sight. He’s long past the traffic signal I’m forced to stop at. I watch helplessly as he fully disappears from view.

When I finally reach I-64, I look in both directions for his car. Naturally I don’t see it. I don’t know why I always bother checking the Interstate for him. Knowing the odds are against me, I go a bit further and inspect the Albemarle County Police Department. I find SeeSee’s car there but Porn Star has apparently evaporated from the earth.

I don’t see him again that day.

Old News

February 8, 2008

More than $40,000 worth of crack cocaine is off streets. The Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force arrested three New York men Thursday morning for possessing cocaine with the intent to distribute: Giovanni Petro, Maleek Harrell and Charles Williams.

Detectives raided a room at the Quality Inn in Charlottesville about 5 a.m. Thursday.

Continued.

Old News

June 5, 2008

Three local residents are facing cocaine charges after the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement task force raided a home in the 1500 block of Carlton Drive.

Rigaberto Topbar Gonzales, 24, of Albemarle County; Jimmy Orlando Chirinos, 31, of Charlottesville; and Denise Holsapple, 37, of Charlottesville were charged Wednesday with conspiracy to distribute cocaine.

Gonzales also was charged with possession of cocaine with intent to distribute, and Chirinos was charged with assault and battery on a law enforcement officer. Lt. Don Campbell, with JADE, said Chirinos resisted arrest and kicked one of the officers.

Continued.

Old News

On November 27, 2007, at approximately 7:40 PM, members of the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force conducted an undercover operation in the 200 block of Carlton Road in the Charlottesville. As a result of the operation approximately 10 grams of cocaine was seized. The cocaine has a potential street value of approximately $1,000.00.

Jorge Antonio Lopez, 24 year[s] old of Charlottesville, was arrested and charged with possession of cocaine with the intent to distribute, a Felony. Lopez was also served with three Felony indictments, for three previous counts of distribution of cocaine.

Comments.

Old News

April 3, 2007

Commonwealth’s Attorney Jim Camblos said the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement task force spotted the marijuana during a southern Albemarle flyover last summer. Peck runs a nursery, Blue Ridge Bamboo of Virginia, from his home, where he raises day lilies and forsythia.
[...]
Police initially estimated the street value at about $4.8 million based solely on the number of plants, not their size. One officer called the seizure the largest he’d seen in Albemarle County in 20 years.

More.

Old News

BY JOHN BORGMEYER

In early March, the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force arrested 18 people, ages 17 to 30, following almost a year of undercover operations in Belmont. Eight men and one woman face charges of distributing marijuana. One man faces charges of distributing both marijuana and imitation cocaine. Eight suspects face cocaine charges.

In JADE press releases and the accompanying daily newspaper articles, pot and cocaine were cast as equal threats to Belmont’s “quality of life.” But in real life, JADE honchos admit that marijuana dealing really isn’t a problem in Charlottesville.

Continued.

Discrepancies: Justification For Self-Witnessing JADE Events

Two men face drug charges after more than 250 grams of cocaine were seized in an undercover operation in Albemarle County.

Shortly after 8 Wednesday night, Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force members conducted an undercover operation in the 300 block of Greenbrier Road. They seized cocaine with a potential street value of $25,000.

20-year-old Noe Chagalas-Mil and 34-year-old Victor Manuel Aranda, both of Albemarle County, were arrested and charged with distribution of cocaine. That charge is a felony.

Investigation in this case is ongoing.

Reported by NBC29 HD News

The Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force removed more than 250 grams of cocaine from a residence on Greenbrier Drive in Albemarle County during an undercover operation Wednesday night.

JADE officers conducted the operation in the 300 block of Greenbrier Drive shortly after 8 p.m. Noe Chagalas-Mil and Victor Manuel Aranda, both of Albemarle County, were arrested and charged with distribution of cocaine.

Officials say the investigation is ongoing and more arrest and charges are pending.

The street value of the cocaine seized Wednesday is approximately $25,000.00.

Reported by WCAV

Also a good excuse for a night vision camera, no?

65 Push Ups

got ACAC?

The Deal Maker and Breaker

In the process of departing the building where the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force is located, I heard the echo of their office door slamming shut -- no doubt at least one of them was on his way out. I went down the stairs outside and glided along the sidewalk intending to leave the property. Feeling I was being followed, when I rounded the corner I glanced over my shoulder to ascertain by who. Figured it’d be Longhead, the only person who’d recognize me on sight.

Seeing as how an encounter with an angry, armed, trained, 200-something pound detective was not on my to-do list, I continued to move at the same steady pace away from him. He bellowed my name. I was conflicted: afraid to stop and afraid to not stop. I had no time to weigh the pros and cons of each. I spun smoothly then advanced towards him warily. I halted when I was still a fair distance from him.

In between flinging zingers at me, he stayed busy trying to contact someone on his cell phone. It was clear he’d reached… whomever, and he sat on a nearby bench alternating his gaze from me to the area he obviously expected his backup to come from. I told him “I’d love to stay and chat but… I don’t think so” and, heartbeat roaring, moved cautiously away. He said and did nothing to stop me. He did, however, trail after me, all the while still communicating to his buddy. Not once did I look back.

I crossed Monticello Ave, keeping on 2nd Street. A slow motion in blue in my peripheral vision and I knew just who exactly Longhead had called: Porn Star. I shook my head and anxiously wondered where this would lead. Presuming both men were inside, I watched the pair pass by and disappear. Utilizing the only means of protection I had, I slid a camera out of my jacket pocket and flipped on a recorder under my shirt.

As I was coming up to Garrett Street, I saw the Honda pulling over to the curb diagonally across the road. As if one wasn’t frightening enough, now there were two angry, armed, trained, 200-something pound detectives coming at me.

Fortunately for me, a considerable amount of people were around as potential witnesses -- the majority of the reason I went that route.

After an excellent visual display of outstretched arms and a thuggish “you want a piece of me,” Porn Star treated me to a onslaught of insults -- everything from calling me a “nutcase” to telling me my writing sucks; I waited for the “you’re ugly and your mother dresses you funny” but I guess in his rage he forgot that. Like high school jocks, the duo played well off each other. I honestly found that part mesmeric. I listened while they stated, mostly to each other, that I was unintelligent; they had several variations on that theme actually. But when Porn Star made a certain threat, I was done listening. Much like I had moments before with Longhead alone, I managed to extricate myself unhurt.

My vehicle was parked in a somewhat shielded area, affording me far less security than I was okay with, and I was worried to go directly to it. As I moved through the neighborhood on foot, the Honda orbited around me. I called Longhead and told him if they wanted me to leave I couldn’t until they stopped circling me like vultures. He claimed they weren’t restricting my movements.

The three of us crossed paths one more time before they let me go. That discussion set off a few days of negotiations. I thought we’d made a deal but Longhead, being the punk-bitch that he is, broke it. Works for me; I get to post on iHeArTEjade again and the experience gave me more stuff to write about.

Pringle's Petty Offenses

For those of us who can read,
those words in bright yellow
on the pavement mean:
NO PARKING

Oops -- I Missed A Spot!

I’m at one of my fave locations, currently surveying Spot -- it gives a whole new meaning to “observation tower.” I sense movement and, looking down, recognize the Black guy from across the street. He’s gotten used to seeing me and he’s nice. We perform what has become our ritual of a nod and wave to each other.

I return my full attention to Spot in time to see him getting into his Taurus. From overhead I keep an eye on him only long enough to gather he’s going to be coming my way. Shouldn’t be too hard to pick him up when he passes by. I climb down from the roof where I’m sitting and scamper to my car.

There he is. I let him make it to the end of the street and choose his direction before easing out after him. He reaches the light at the corner with three cars and me behind him. From there he makes two more turns. I do the same but hang back ever so slightly.

It’s early AM and the road we’re on is filled with morning commuters wired up on coffee and road rage. I watch Spot’s car bounce from lane to lane. I bet he’s one of those drivers who thinks as long as he’s in motion he’s making progress -- kind of like me. I don’t snake back and forth as much as he since I’m having no trouble keeping up with him.

We make another turn. Traffic is heavier and I’m snagged in it briefly. I catch sight of the tail end of Spot’s sedan as it goes beyond a brick building. Exploiting a section of empty parking spaces I cut in front of a bunch of stopped cars to get Spot back in view. Gotcha QT.

I’m at a red light, the first in line. The detective is sitting one block and three vehicles ahead, held up at his own red light. Force of habit: I check my mirrors.

And there in the Ford behind me is Spot.

Are you kidding me?! I spin around in my seat to take a better look. Ya, that’s him. I twist back around, slap my palm over my eyes and chuckle. I return my hand to the steering wheel and stare out my windshield at the identical car I’ve mistakenly been chasing for… who knows how long? I am such a dumb twit.

There's only one JADE Task Force man I can follow from the front and Spot is not him. How do I fix this screw up?

Intending to loop around the block and come up behind Spot, I turn right but fast find out it’s impossible to get at him that way from this street. I hastily retrace my route to return to the original road. He had to have made it through the light by now; all I have to do is go right and I’ll still wind up behind him. But too much time has passed. Spot, and the clone car for that matter, has vanished.

Porn Star. Round Two.

I watch Porn Star implement a U-turn from the curb and fly off in the same direction I followed him previously. This time I’m geared up for him. Already waiting at the edge of the lot, I barely give him time to get by me before I pull out. He, like before, crosses the first two intersections like a just-fired bullet. I, unlike before, do the same to keep up with him.

As we approach the third intersection -- where I lost him last time -- periodic yellow flashes above his bumper denote he intends to go right. Ah, so he does use blinkers. I hardly complete the thought in my brain before he’s practically tipping his Honda up on two wheels making the turn. I watch in astonishment as an Intrepid he’s cut off almost plows into his backside. I see the other driver shaking his head in disbelief as he recovers from the near crash.

It really does crack me up me how crazy Porn Star drives. Plus there’s every indication he seems oblivious to his recklessness and that intrigues me.

The business with the Intrepid screws up my progress. I’m on the same road Porn Star turned on to but don’t see him anywhere. I persevere with the idea that, pleeeease, by pure luck I’ll find him.

Eventually with the addition of an extra lane and roughly a good mile of visibility, I detect a small, definitely blue, automobile in the distance. That’s gotta be him. I speed up.

I change lanes to get by a motorcycle. Just as I start to accelerate, an SUV slingshots out from a left side road and enters my lane. Due to it and the Suzuki, I’m hedged in. Not only is this slowing me down but, reminiscent of the prior incident involving the van, the SUV is blocking my view of Porn Star. Dang it. I can’t lose sight of him. I decide to move back behind the bike. If nothing else I’ll be able to see around him. Right before I reposition myself, thankfully, the behemoth in front of me clears out of my path. The thing is, now there’s no more Porn Star!

Just like that, he’s gone.

I make it up to the junction of I-64 and peer in both east and west directions. Jeez… I can’t just blindly pick a direction of Interstate to go traipsing down. Frustrated, I bang my hands on the steering wheel. I make a U-turn at the next light and, remembering I never did get a map, prepare to wind up lost again.

The Size The Limit

I despise the blurry face look.

So...

I crop. I distort. I resize. The latest batch I rescale to near microscopical proportions.

So...

Click the image of 1/4 of SeeSee's vehicle to seesee a snapshot I reduced by 3/4 and maybe you'll get 1 good picture of how large these photographs are originally.

Before, During, and After

Yes, ma’am. Will you please tell the readers where you were on the afternoon of Friday, September 5, 2008?

Oh -- I was just kinda here and there.

Derivatives From The JADE Project

For many years a section of the entry level exam of the Austin, Texas, police department (APD) required test takers to identify the make and model of vehicles based on the shape of the vehicles’ tail sections. Women test takers claimed that this was discriminatory, because the recognition and knowledge of automobiles more often were associated with males than females. However, many men also were not very astute with respect to vehicles body types. Eventually, APD removed this section from the exam. -- Police Organization and Management: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

With few exceptions, a year ago I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what kind of car I was looking at even if I was standing two feet behind it. I don’t believe it had anything to do with what sex I am; I simply never thought of it because I had no reasons to. My interest in the JADE Task Force changed that and these days I can identify a substantial number of vehicles upon view -- near or far -- and also, by the details (light contours, spoilers, et cetera) of some, many times isolate the range of years each was made.

I knew I was improving at this when I started nailing IDs in a snap at night in the pitch blackness. I think that’s so cool!

I’ve still got a lot to learn though. Like, whoever heard of a Chevy Uplander? I linked one to JADE, and I had to get close to it more than once before determining that’s really what it is. I don’t know how popular they are but I have yet to see another one of its kind. Another vehicle, used by a non-JADE member of one of the SWAT teams, remains a mystery to me. I keep its appearance in my mind at all times and, whether I see his again or one just like it, I swear I will figure out what it is. After all, I have to have something other than a color to go with the tag number. Speaking of which…

A conspicuous side effect of my newfound vehicle awareness is my eyes are constantly gravitating to license plates. I guess what started as an intentional procedure for select automobiles has developed into a subconscious tendency applying to all of them. So I can’t help but ask: does this happen to law enforcers too?

Did You Know?

Whatever
you're
doing
at
midnight
on
New Year's Eve
is
what
you'll
be
doing
the
rest
of
the
year.

I HeArTE JADE

Fish and Eggplant: Oughta Be a Recipe

If it’s not apparent by now, Task Force Officer Longhead and I know each other personally and have a bit of history. I should probably elucidate but I won’t because I can’t grasp where to begin and the ending, to me, is at best a confusing mess and at worst is… something that’s not fit to print. But to give an inkling of how we’ve essentially always interacted with each other, you know those fighting fish?

All right, Longhead and I get along like them: fine on the shelf in our individual cups, just don’t dump us together in the same glass.

That being stated, I was perpetually bewared Longhead would spy me before I’d accomplished what I wanted to with JADE -- thus spoiling my project -- and I went through a lot of trouble to avoid crossing paths with him. Nevertheless, we had several unbelievably near misses. I’d walk across a road and he’d drive transversely over the very spot seconds later. I’d coincidentally pull out in front of him at the Charlottesville Police Department as he was coming and I was going, then it’d be the reverse on another day. I’d be taking the stairs down, he’d be riding the elevator up. Those sorts of things. But it wasn’t until a couple of really, really, close calls that it fully sunk in I had no need to fret. The guy is about as observant as an eggplant.

I’d parked down at the Drug Enforcement office, under the inference Longhead had clocked out for the day, and was about to hop out of my auto -- one he was familiar with -- when I spotted his Taurus coming in the lot. Like an explosion, it hit me that there was no place near the doors for him to put his car and that I was in the row that’d be his first choice if there was no place near the doors for him to put his car. Yes, indeed, he was headed straight for me. Closer, closer, closer, he advanced. I became the spitting image of an ice sculpture. Transfixed, I watched him pull in. All that lay betwixt us was a 9 x 18 foot empty space.

He got out, reached for miscellaneous articles, went around to the other side, tossed something in, then shut the door and clomped away. Despite facing my direction a multitude of times -- including when he looked back as he armed his alarm -- he was oblivious to my presence. I didn’t know what to make of it. Could it be all that worry all that inconvenience all that time, all unnecessary?! Hilarious. Yet pathetic.

Alas! It was too great a temptation, I couldn’t help myself: rather than rushing out of there as soon as the coast was clear, I stayed, right smack where I was, to find out if the same thing would happen when he came back. I even readied a camera and rolled down the window. Before Longhead returned, a car slightly larger than my own parked in the open spot. I don’t believe it made any difference, aside from its appearance in a few of the photographs I took.

At any rate, I don’t recollect if the above was the deciding incident or if it was another similar one but somewhere along the line I stopped bending over backwards trying to forefend possible run-ins with Longhead and started treating him like any other JADEr -- which is what I should’ve been doing all along.

An Ironical Chronicle

Porn Star. Round One.

Though I plan on following each of the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force Officers, the target of my first attempt at tailing is, I admit, chosen quite impetuously.

My rear end is nearly devoid of all feeling from sitting idly in my car and I’m bored with the activities of my surroundings. All the familiar non-JADE people that, on one day or another, had seemed so fascinating to study are now as interesting to me as dust bunnies under a bed that are occasionally disturbed by the movement of feet.

I stretch my legs out as far as I can and compare the amount of room in the front seat of my car to a needle’s eye. I can’t prove it but I theorize the hole in the pin has significantly more space. I tilt my head down and use my hand to massage away the tightness that’s developing in my neck. A flicker of movement makes me snap back straight.

There he is: Porn Star. He’s come down the steps from the building and is lumbering with an air of determination across the parking area towards his vehicle. As he pulls the door handle up, he stills for a moment. His head turns in my direction. His sunglasses hide his eyes but I don’t need to see them. Hey, he’s looking right at me. It’s a sign! I’m going to follow him.

Full of excitement to be learning something new, I turn the key in the ignition and listen as my car’s engine revs to life. I barely slide the gearshift into “D” before Porn Star’s funky-colored Honda whips out of its parking space and zips off. Whoa! I have to floor it to catch up to him.

There’s a stop sign at the top of the lot. Apparently Porn Star thinks the lone word in giant white print is merely a suggestion -- one which he ignores. He shoots across the intersection.

I too can tell there’s no oncoming traffic but decide not to be as risky as him. I mean, if he happens to get pulled over for driving like a miscreant, the officer’s just going to send him on his merry way; if I get pulled over, the only place I’ll be going, not merrily, is to court to pay off the fines. Besides, I can see Porn Star heading up the incline and I expect to catch up to him.

Making it to the opposite side of the road, I grab one of my cameras and try to snap off a couple of pictures of his car as he, with nary a brake light aglow, blows through that intersection also. Gee what a surprise.

It’s registering that this is going to be harder than I thought. I mutter a mild swear, abandon the camera to the passenger seat, and stomp down on the gas pedal. I reach the octagonal sign in four seconds flat and quickly glance both ways. The street is deserted so across go I. Despite my effort Porn Star is still already way more than halfway up the next hill.

Third intersection: heavy traffic has forced him to halt. I ease down on the brakes and come to rest right behind him. While automobiles flow by sea-like in front of us, I wonder half in jest if Porn Star is wearing his seat belt. Like most of the vehicles used by members of the Task Force, the tint on his windows is far too dark to see through. I barely glance to my left and of course he uses that exact instant to turn right. Nice blinker. I roll my eyes.

I have to wait for a tan Lincoln and some sort of company’s van to pass before I can pull out. I turn; now I can’t see around the van. I sidle as far over to the left as I possibly can without initiating a head-on collision and stare all the way down the road in front of me. My macho man is nowhere to be seen. Great; I haven’t even been following the guy a whoppin’ three minutes and I’ve already lost him. I facetiously debate whether Porn Star is the best driver ev-er or the worst.

Unfamiliar with the area, I get lost in a tangle of side roads trying to return to where I started. It takes me nearly twenty five minutes to maneuver my way back to my original spot. I make a mental note to invest in a map of the city streets.

I find the whole episode comical and respond to it the only way one can: with laughter.