She Who Has The Most Cars Is The Big Winner!

From time to time what’s on your agenda may require you to be stealthy. When the crowd you’re trying to investigate has caught on to what your primary automobile is and they can spot it from six miles away, you may be forced to get creative in order to conceal your surreptitious activities. What better way to overcome your transportation challenges than to obtain an infinite supply of vehicles?

If you have a little cash or the ability to sweet-talk your way into free rides, taxis are great for meeting many of your needs. The drivers don’t object to being idle for long periods, and they ordinarily don’t give a darn what you’re up to. The best part is that, completely in defiance of its conspicuous appearance, a hack no matter where it is never looks out of place. Charlottesville has some rockin’ cabbies.

If you don’t mind them making a temporary photocopy of your driver’s license, car dealerships will let you take just about anything on their lot out for a spin. With the used car market being as sad as it is, a lot of dealers don’t even care about getting a copy of your permit; seeing that you have one and that it’s not expired is satisfactory enough. A promise to bring it back with a full tank of gasoline, or not flip more than a hundred miles on the odometer, can make a charming coupe yours for a few hours. If you really know how to play it, you can get what’s called an “extended test drive” which gives you a set of wheels for the better part of a day to overnight.

If you’re concerned about picture ID issues or interacting with salesmen doesn’t float your boat, private party sellers are another way to go. All it takes is you finding and answering a classified ad. Most people don’t give a second thought to letting a stranger drive away in the sedan they want sold -- especially when the unfamiliar person leaves his or her own vehicle with them. Concoct a clever (read: believable) story and you can keep their car for a good chunk of time.

If you’re willing to be scammed, pay an exorbitant cost of basic rate, plus tax, in addition to the leasing surcharge the insurance surcharge the anti-theft surcharge the mileage surcharge the because-it-has-a-cupholder surcharge, and shell out one of your kidneys, I recommend rental car companies. They also keep records of your rental agreement with them on file for two hundred years at which time they’ll burn it for a fee.

Vroom Vroom!

JADE blog

Dear TF Jade,

My name is Tasha Kates, and I'm a reporter for the Daily Progress. I came across your blog this afternoon while looking for information on another crime.

I would like to speak with you about your blog. If you're interested, please e-mail me back or give me a call at 978-7265.

Thanks!
Tasha

Tasha Kates
The Daily Progress
434-978-7265

I'm Tossing Around The Idea Of Starting Another Weblog

Occasionally I HeArTE JADE readers have brought up the issue of time -- as in it must’ve taken a lot of it for me to do what I’ve done with Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force. A couple of JADE detectives themselves have remarked on it. Enough people have referred to it that I’m inclined to write about not just how but how fast information can be gathered. Plus, whereas one Charlottesville detective prompted my interest in JADE, JADE prompted my interest in trying identical lines of investigations elsewhere and, hey, now I’ve got anecdotes to air about them.

If you haven’t guessed yet, I’m heavily Law Enforcement focused. I’m sure there’s a deep pseudo-psychological reason someone can devise for me being this way, but let’s not go there. Anyway, on top of the eleven JADE TF members I’ve uncovered, I’ve updated my résumé to include:

One DEA Agent
Two FBI Agents
Two SWAT Officers
One Uniformed Policeman
One Virginia State Trooper
One Undercover Roanoke Investigator who appeared blur-faced on the dreadful show COPS

I haven’t written about any of them here because they aren’t JADE and iHeArTEjade is devoted to JADE. Swoon. But I thought given that I credit the JADE Task Force as being largely responsible for my newfound, uh, hobby, I could give an example of how I operate and perchance prove that in limited time one can learn all about smart men of various Law Enforcement agencies.

I admit I’ll use the Internet for tidbits of info but I favor finding intelligence the old-fashioned way, out in the real world. Sitting in front of a monitor is nowhere near as enjoyable as going to actual places like courthouses or police stations. Or raid sites. However, for a change of pace, and a new learning experience, I thought I’d take a stab at confining one of these frivolous pursuits of mine strictly to the ‘net.

I semi-randomly selected the author of a cop blog to unearth. I say semi-randomly because though I had no particular reason to pick this officer out of a hundred others, there were some prerequisites. For one, anybody who could play the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz was a definite no-no. For another, a man who provided too much information about himself obviously would make my mission as easy as Jenna Jameson and, as such, also a no-go. C’mon, it had to be challenging!

The report is as follows.

I start at Google. There’s more than twenty thousand results for “cop blog.” I scroll down through my “100 results per page” and arbitrarily click on ten URLs. I X nine browser windows shut as only one out of the ten links actually fits my keywords; it is a blog and the fellow making entries to it is a cop. A cop who lists the city and state where he works, and his age, along with his name, rank, and serial number. Not all of that really but you get the idea. TMI squared. I’ll pass. But he has links to blogs belonging to his fellow boys in blue. I go to the top two.

Before I proceed any further I should let you know that I speed read. As in 1,010 words per minute with a 93% comprehension level. I’m not telling you that to boast; I’m telling you that because I believe it’s relevant. Speed reading helps in some of my endeavors like this. Plainly the faster I read, the faster I accumulate information. Just think, in the time it takes someone to move an opened full-page document across a desk in front of me, I’ve not only read the entire thing, I’ve retained almost all its data too. That was bragging.

On the first site, I peruse the front page. The guy in control of it is marginally literate with all the competence of a squished tomato. He also apparently has a grudge against anyone who doesn’t drive under a roof of colored bubbles and have the ability to whip out a badge while simultaneously Tasering small children. I carefully duck around the boulder on his shoulder and nix him as my unwitting playmate.

At the next site, I immediately see potential. Officer. Male. Writes in a coherent manner. Sense of humor. Making an effort to be anonymous. I look at Patrolman Potential’s profile. He does state what state he’s in, but it’s one of them big ones so maybe it doesn’t matter. I decide he’ll be a fun subject. From here on out I’ll call Patrolman Potential just plain ol’ “Pete.”

Back at Pete’s main page, I read a few more entries and begin plucking out anything I think may help me identify him. Striving to remain incognito he consistently refers to the city he lives in as Petetown. Interesting. Adjacent to Petetown is Petefield, the city he works in. I know that’s pertinent stuff and keep it in mind for later.

Aww… he’s got a cute story up about a trip he made to an apple orchard. He gives the name of it and, amazed that it’s not “Pete’s Orchard,” I hit Google and plug it in. In the whole United States there are four apple groves with the name. All four of them are located in the same state. Guess which one. Because of the information I think that, yeah, it didn’t matter that Pete’s provided his state’s name on his blog. Those Golden Delicious will get ya!

I transfer the search from Google to Google Maps which shows me exactly where all four orchards are. Thesetowns and Thosefields are in abundance around them. That’s not a coincidence.

Another post of Pete’s. In it he talks about a certain dining establishment. I look it up. It’s a chain, so that’s probably why he figured it was safe to give its name -- there are thousands of them across the country. But according to Google Maps, there are less than thirty of them within reasonable driving distance of three of the four orchards.

Return to pete.blogger.com. In an exciting tale, Pete casually mentions he was flooring his Charger down the Interstate. Check. In another (non-duty-related) story he writes about a mountain-biking trip he took. He fails to say as much but I detect he left in the AM, was back by the PM. The mountains have to be close. At Google Maps, I see no major highway or any mountains handy to one of the aforementioned woodlets. Terrific. That leaves two apple orchards and a dozen Applebees.

Again to the blog skimming. I stop in the middle of Pete’s narrative because another food chain is brought up, this time a grocery store. Back with Google Maps. Finally! Only a single apple orchard is close to everything -- the restaurant, the grocery store, the mountains, and the freeway. Now let’s type in to Google Maps… p-o-l-i-c-e d-e-p-a-r-t-m-e-n-t. Eeks! Too many; I kill them from the map.

I should’ve finished Pete’s post sooner for he goes on to say that, despite the fact that there is one 5 miles from his home, he prefers to shop at the grocery store with the same name that’s 20 miles away from the convenient one.

I go back to Google Maps and eliminate any grocery stores that aren’t within the mileage of each other that Pete gave. There’s quite a few cities left on the map but just one of them is a wee, petite, cute Something-town. Petetown, I presume. I note it’s 15 miles north of the apple place. So if that’s home base, where’s work?

I test the police department search again. There are two cities that seem promising, each approximately a mere 30 miles from Petetown. One, to the south, is Something-field and the other, to the east, is Somethingelse-field. Not a surprise. But momentarily I get sorta stuck.

I spend five minutes mostly rereading portions of Pete’s adventures in the hopes that a giant fluorescent orange arrow will jump out at me to help me pinpoint which is the right place -- not could be the right place but is the right place. I drum my fingers rapidly on the keyboard and scrunch up my lips. I feel graveled, at a loss.

I abandon his written material and stare at the miniscule pictures Pete has of himself and his patrol car in the upper left corner of his blog. Patrol car. Patrol car. That’s his patrol car. I scrutinize it. Yes, his body is blocking an important part of the vehicle and it is a small picture but maybe, just maybe…

I Google the website of the Somethingelse-field Police Department. I turn up what I’m seeking: a decent photograph of one of their black and whites. Its paint job is clearly not the same as the one on Pete’s. I Google the website of the Something-field Police Department. I compare cop car details. Pete is, without a doubt, one of the Something-field officers.

Cool. I pinned down the workplace and residential area of a man I never, until this lark, knew existed in less time than it takes to watch an episode of Burn Notice. 54 minutes.

I occupy six more minutes sizing up the dates and times of Pete’s blog posts and from them I think I’ve got a hunch what his work schedule is. Having spent an even hour on this, I opt for Pete and I to part ways.

Naturally it would’ve taken a longer spell to do all that in-person but I hope my account served to demonstrate the processes I go through, how I get the outcomes I do, and, more to the matter at hand, in a modest amount of time.

By the way, considering I can see from an acorn-sized picture of Pete what kind of sunglasses he wears -- an LEO will wear the same pair of shades for, like, life -- I’m passably confident I could find him in the flesh if I had to and learn as much about him as I have any one of the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force Officers.

Now if only I had a brain and could find some way to turn this avocation of mine into a vocation…

(Minute details in the above report have been altered to prevent the subject, Pete, from being alerted to my actions and going ballistic. Cops, regardless of all their bravado, are fairly sensitive souls.)

A Different Contact Number

Unfortunately it seems that Pringle is unable to maintain his pager payments. "Sorry -- the number you have reached is not in service; please check the number and dial again." I blame the recession.

For persons wanting to report
illicit narcotics activity to the
Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force:
434-970-3376

Semi-Old News

February 2009

Two Albemarle County men accused of selling cocaine will face a grand jury. Noe Chagala-Mil and Victor Manuel Aranda both waived their right to a preliminary hearing Thursday in Albemarle General District Court, according to court records.

The men were charged with distribution of cocaine in January after the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement task force seized more than 250 grams of cocaine from a home on Greenbrier Drive. The street value of the cocaine was estimated at $25,000.

According to court records, both men are being held at the Albemarle-Charlottesville Regional Jail.

Source.

Ten-8

I once made a promise to an officer that some day I would find some way to express my gratitude for everything he did. Here and now I want to remind him again I always keep my word.

Pics and Prose

Though I deem Chief Longo’s letter to me dated Groundhog Day, February 2, more menacing than it is anything else, I do take it and the sentiment behind it seriously. Clearly he and his mean business therefore I need to take care of mine.

So, in lieu of Mr. Longo’s missive, I spent the majority of my day in the company of lawyers. I’m not going to tip my hand by providing details, suffice it to say it was not unpleasant and was definitely informative. Something though that I will bring up here…

One of my concerns is that the Charlottesville Chief of Police, Mr. Longo, is blatantly violating my rights by ordering me to cease and desist photographing Charlottesville Police Department (CPD) and Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement (JADE) personnel.

Prior to my discussion with counsel today I was, because of other things at other times in my life, already well mindful of the laws regarding picture-taking. In fact a few months ago I, on record, reminded an FBI agent that it was within my rights to snap shots of JADE.

Though there are exceptions of course, the general rule is that anybody may take photographs of anything or anyone he or she wants to in a public or publicly-accessible place. While it may seem shocking, police officers, and their vehicles, can be lawfully photographed from and in public places.


Even an undercover officer while in the performance of his duty can be photographed.







Am I seriously supposed to believe that Chief Longo, who has a law degree from the University of Baltimore School of Law, isn’t aware of this? Or maybe it’s that he’s seriously hoping I am not aware. Whatever the case may be, Mr. Longo’s order is ludicrous.

For fun I spent a tiny portion of the remainder of my day researching the subject of photographing law enforcement specifically, and, due to what I found, wound up on the phone to an attorney in Oregon and also a reporter in Florida each of whom have such eye-opening pertinent stories I couldn’t resist contacting them.

To end my day, I put up this post with accompanying pre-publicized pictures taken of policemen by journalists, children, and ordinary citizens, who know photography is, much to the annoyance of self-important officers, not a crime.
Hey, that last guy there looks so familiar. I think his photographs and personally identifiable information -- you know, like his name and duties as a City of Charlottesville Police Department detective -- have been placed on the internet by local media. Then again... what do I know?

In Honor Of Groundhog Day: Another Chief Longo Letter

Dear Ms. [Me]:

Despite my previous explanations and pleas for you to discontinue your unauthorized surveillance of the Charlottesville Police Department (“CPD”) and the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force (“JADE), you have consistently refused to consider the negative effects that you have had on our officers, informants, cooperators, and their respective families.

How do you know I’ve “refused,” let alone “consistently”? Perhaps I have considered, and reconsidered, but simply disagree with your opinion on the matters.

You have interfered with the orderly business of the CPD and JADE, to the point where people cannot meet with CPD and JADE personnel without fear of being identified.

I’ve given not even the slightest indication that people who have met, or will meet, with CPD and JADE will be identified by me. In fact, every indication has been to the contrary. If your local coterie of law enforcement have choreographed and incited that sort of trepidation, then that’s on y’all.

Despite your disregard for others,

Hate to break it to you but your declaring such a thing doesn’t make it true.

I hope to elucidate an issue that you may understand, as it effects you personally: The CPD and JADE deals with criminal activity.

Really? I had no idea.

The volatility of any given situation is unpredictable, and your presence around CPD and JADE operations has the potential to quickly escalate a peaceful situation into a violent and/or deadly confrontation.

If, as you state, any given situation is unpredictable, then my, or anyone’s, presence would have no effect, as the potential of escalation would be there regardless. If you’re implying that my, or anyone’s, presence would increase the chances of intensification, then that’s a prediction on your part thereby contradicting your assertion about any given situation.

And this is all hypothetical anyway, especially if we’re talking about potential. Everything has potential for something. I could aver that my presence around your operations has the potential to prevent a violent confrontation. Hell, I could even provide justification to support the affirmation.

When you place yourself into a potentially hazardous situation (which is any unauthorized contact, surveillance or interference with members of the CPD and JADE), you deliberately place yourself in grave danger.

Hmm… I’ll have to think about that one some more, but it seems to me that in order to be deliberately placing myself in grave danger I’d have to have first resolved that a situation is hazardous; potentially hazardous just doesn’t cut it.

If I walk into a convenience store fully knowing it’s being robbed at gunpoint, one could argue that I was deliberately placing myself in grave danger. However, if I walk into the same convenience store but no crime is being committed at the time, am I deliberately placing myself in grave danger merely because the establishment is located in a neighborhood that may sporadically have armed robberies?

Neither the CPD, JADE, its individual members, nor its constituent agencies has any relationship with you entitling you to any special protection.

Aww… that bites. You’ve crushed all my expectations!

Any dangers that you create by your surveillance activities are of your own creation, and no law enforcement agencies will expend any additional resources in protecting you from any consequences.

I figured that kind of went without saying.

As a courtesy to you,

I believe you’re a nice guy but your courtesies are pretty transparent.

I am informing you of the dangers that you may face, in hopes that you will at least consider your own safety, if not that of others.

You have, at most, vaguely postulated suppositious danger(s). By your very use, repeatedly at that, of the word potential you only reconfirm the unspecified peril(s) you allude to may or may not exist.

Let’s pretend: You’re an avid balloonist. I sent you a letter avowing that there may be danger flying in a hot air balloon. I also informed you that your presence in the gondola has the potential to quickly escalate a pleasant flight over the countryside to a fiery crash. I further wrote that when you place yourself into a potentially hazardous situation (which is any travel, suspension or propelling with pilots of respective companies), you deliberately place yourself in grave danger. So when you subsequently hop in the dirigible, can I then say you have not considered your own safety, nor that of others?

With this goal in mind, you are hereby ordered to CEASE AND DESIST from any and all surveillance activities of members of the CPD and JADE, including, but not limited to, photographing CPD and JADE personnel, following CPD and JADE personnel,

How do I laugh in writing? Last I looked it was they who were doing the photographing and following.

and placing personally identifiable information of officers

Are you referring to the officers who conduct their business in a variety of places where they cannot possibly have any expectation of privacy? How about the officers who are oft times seen in public openly wearing law enforcement paraphernalia -- some donning garb clearly branded POLICE? The officers in marked cars, them too?

and confidential informants on the internet.

Again, I have no intention of identifying confidential informants. Not because they deserve to be protected -- they don’t -- but because, aside from JADE-related generalities, I have absolutely no interest in them.

Finally, be advised that you are potentially subject to criminal prosecution

For…? My actions may be objectionable to you and yours but they’re certainly not criminal by any stretch of the imagination.

as well as substantial civil liability should you persist in your actions.

Go for it. I have nothing to lose and nothing for anyone to take.

Sincerely,

Timothy J. Longo, Sr.
Chief of Police

It hurts me that you did not provide your phone number this time.

(Scan 1 / Scan 2)

The *ahem* Assault Vehicle

This is the JADE van.



The Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force vehicle can comfortably transport seven men -- at least as comfortably as a bunch of confined men covered in rank body armor sweating out the grease from the fast food they live on can be.



Aside from the guys, the Chevy G20 can carry an assortment of other items. Mandatory first aid supplies in a small bag and large plastic box, and containers for evidence, may be stored in the hindmost space; a battering ram on the floor between the velvety seats for someone to trip over; perhaps a pair of pretty blue rubber gloves in the front console.



There’s also lots of pockets and places to hold trash of the non-two-legged variety: empty packs of smokes, filled bottles of nicotine purge, and candy bar wrappers indicative that sugar-high and raid-rush can coexist.



If your home is the target destination of the uninvited JADE van, let’s put it this way... flushing is futile.

Miscellaneous Meandering

I did type up a chain of thoughts once, where one thing led to another. This also is inspired by what’s wandering around in my brain but I suspect it’s not going to flow out quite so well.

I infer because I’m still doing things, the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force is finally doing things to keep me from doing things. That’s on top of the damage control they’re doing in response to the things I’ve already done.

I haven’t received it, but I was told eons ago by Longhead that I’d be getting a No Trespassing Order to bar me from being on the Ix property where the JADE office is located. I was actually looking forward to it since I figured it would free up beaucoup pictures I’ve taken. Weighing the prospective to take more and unwilling to give away any of my so-called hiding places, I haven’t put up so many photographs on iHeArTEjade.

See, hypothetically, if I got a bunch of snapshots from sitting on a bench across from their entranceway, naturally I wouldn’t post them here, seeing that even the Task Force guys would be able to deduce the placement of the camera and would know to check there for me from that point on. If I’m no longer permitted to sit at that location anymore, it doesn’t matter if I post all the photos I took from that spot as I’ll never go there again.

Presumption alone that the No Trespassing Order was impending has not been enough to shake loose certain pictures, albeit it has kept me mostly off the property voluntarily.

I prefer to have open possibilities and, assuming they would rather have as few images as possible up here, by not counterproductively serving me with an official document, the men have in essence assisted themselves. There’s kind of a balance. Everybody’s happy. Get it?

I’ve been vastly considering their recent activity. Most of what I believe the JADErs are doing lately to stop me isn’t much of a deterrent, though it is fascinating to watch and analyze what they’ve determined will work or what they think is working. They did do one thing that I predicted would be challenging to undo, so to speak. But if I wrote about it, or my triumph regarding it, and they found out about it, they’d just redo it. I can’t have that.

Shocking as it seems sometimes, I’ve got the three Rs covered: Relentlessness, Resourcefulness, and Confidence. Okay, that last one’s not an R-word but you get the idea. If they build a moat, I’ll build a boat. Or a catapult. Or I’ll find a person or two willing to sneak me in the main entrance. Therein lies my dilemma. I already know I can construct those things, or unearth those people, because I already have. So why would I do it again if I already know what’s across the moat? It’d be different if I was forced to do something, well, different to discover JADE Task Force information. But that wouldn’t be the case. I know this because, by now, I’ve tested it. And retested it. JADE is fun, but perhaps not fun enough for a repeat performance.

Generally what lingers in my mind these days is my perception that I was, am, the only one interested in my Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force project. Even the TF Officers themselves are apparently indifferent to it. If I were them I’d totally want to know who someone got my handwriting samples from, furthermore what documents they were on. Or how someone had prior knowledge of where search warrants would be served. Guess that’s just me though.

If you’re wondering what this whole ramble means, I’m not sure either. I suppose I’m just thinking in print that if there’s no longer potential for me to learn new things, then the undertaking is complete. And like the example I gave regarding the unused photographs, if I’m done investigating the Task Force there’s nothing holding me back from putting up anything or everything.

At this stage whatever I disclose that JADE feels is detrimental to themselves, they’re just going to change anyway -- if they haven’t yet. If I happen to give away their secret meeting places, they’ll create new ones. If I divulge their vehicles and a list of tag numbers, those things are easily replaceable for them.

I feel like I’m reading one of those Choose Your Own Adventure stories. If you want to try to pursue JADE some more, turn to page 56. If you want to complete documenting your enterprise then seek a new avocation, turn to page 34.

JADE TF News

January 2009

[...]
Samuels admitted that he and the others were part of a drug distribution organization that was responsible for distributing more than 3,000 kilos of marijuana in Charlottesville, and elsewhere.

The investigation of this case was conducted by the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.
[...]

Wide Open

Aquamarine Dodge Grand Caravan:

A Contact Number

For persons wanting to report
illicit narcotics activity to the
Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force:
434-961-1724

You Remember This Guy?

I do.

And I had every intention of attending his guilty plea hearing scheduled for 12:15 today.

But I kinda got distracted by a Hottie in a Honda.



So I settled for reading this article instead.

Handwriting Examination

Not everything that gets passed along to me that's connected to the JADE TF has a signature on it.

Not to be confused with the pseudoscience of graphology, which a sage of sorts essentially guesses by the way a T is crossed whether or not one is the type of woman who amuses herself studying a narcotics Task Force, handwriting analysis, as a forensic technique, simply put is the comparison of handwriting samples for the purpose of determining who their author is.

One need not be a professional questioned document examiner with years of training in the field to figure out who wrote what; sometimes all it takes is someone with an eye for detail.

If I wanted to know who sketched the map above or which, if any, Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement officer jotted down the telephone number of, for instance, Mr. Grant, I could collate the unknown penning to known specimens. Using the writing of two distinct detectives I might compare a lower case letter from one man or an upper case letter from the other man to the coinciding letters in the mysterious “Grant” to try to get a match.

I have occasionally come across an identical word on different material:

What do you think -- were they written by the same person?

Now something unique, such as the way the number 8 is written by someone:

As good as an autograph, that's!

How 'Bout "Relentless" As A Post Title?

Off from work. Family had their own agenda for the upcoming day and night. I thought I’d indulge in some Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force recreation. Snippets here and there for them is nifty, but having a huge chunk of time to devote entirely to them? Fantastic! I could hardly wait for tomorrow to come.

I should’ve known how the day was going to go when I got up that morning and couldn’t find the shirt I’d wanted to wear -- or the one I decided would be my second option, or my third choice, either. Did I mention I’ve got a twelve year old daughter who’s recently taken to borrowing my clothes?

It all started with me waking up roughly three hours earlier than I needed to, after only sleeping roughly three hours. I had some information regarding a JADE detective I wanted to look into and timing was everything. Despite the great garment fiasco, I managed to leave the house shortly after the moment I’d planned.

A mile or so up the road, my car’s check oil lamp started flickering; it only does that when it’s an emergency. I had to stop and buy some. Naturally, what I needed was on the shelf all the way in the back of the huge store, at the furthest point away from the door I picked to come in at.

Merchandise bought, I rushed out. I had to re-pop the hood once because it came slamming down while I was unscrewing the cap of the SAE30 I’d purchased. My sedan’s thirst for lubrication satisfied, I started the engine and heard the I need gasoline chime accompany whatever latest hit song was playing on the radio. Ugh! Another unplanned stop. And one more after that for, good grief, tampons.

When I at last arrived at my destination, my window of opportunity, much like my car hood, had slammed shut; I was exactly two minutes too late for what I wanted to see. I hung around for ten more, just to be sure, and sipped on my second cup of coffee, another quad-shot of espresso. Failure accepted, I moved off in the direction of the JADE building.

When I got there, Longhead’s vehicle was the lone one I recognized. Ever since he and I hashed it out, LH is pretty much the main Task Force member I’ve seen around; I have no clue why. I seem to be unwittingly making up for all the times I deliberately avoided him during this whole venture. Frankly I’m sick of him. I left and went shopping.

In the process of traveling to and fro, a few times I passed by (non-JADE detective) UPS in his Alero, plus another (non-JADE) SWAT guy whose automobile I know. I named the latter man “Vinyard” because he reminds me of a character from that god-awful movie American History X.

Subsequently back at JADE, refreshed cup of java in hand, I picked a familiar spot where I could keep an eye on things. It’s actually not close to the building and, if the TFOs look towards the place, I’m hardly undetectable, but I still consider it a good position on numerous grounds. For example, I can watch seven key areas without ever having to turn my head -- three additional when I do rotate. Also, I can see any direction any of the officers come and go in and, more importantly, I can quickly go in any direction -- either to follow them or to evade them.

Speaking of directions... since I wrote on iHeArTEjade that they never use it, at least one man has exited via the construction access road -- thereby demonstrating you can indeed teach an old detective new tricks. Ha!

From my perch, I saw UPS’s car come in from Elliott Ave, enter the upper lot, and disappear from view. Strange for him to park in there I thought but I waited for him to walk his way down into my sight and the building. When he didn’t materialize in a reasonable amount of time, I got curious. I started my car and rolled off to find out what he was up to. Gradually driving down 6th Street SE I carefully scanned the now visible upper lot for his car. No him. Focused entirely on UPS I neglected to note, or re-note as the case may have been, the presence of any Drug Enforcement vehicles.

It’s my understanding that the majority of people who, as part of their job, have to perform surveillance from inside a resting automobile, hate it. I personally don’t mind it a bit. However, I have to admit it’s far more enjoyable to have a stakeout be in motion when given a choice between the two.

At that second the only people I was under the impression were present and accounted for who belonged to JADE were Longhead and Herb. Longhead is basically blah, and just about the only time Herb, who is interesting to me, goes anywhere once he’s reported for duty is when he’s with someone else -- which, as it stood, meant LH and that’s assuming Herb even had anywhere to go.

So in spite of the fact that UPS isn’t technically a JADEr, he’s still highly intriguing for secondary reasons and I opted to go search for him rather than optimistically stare at the same ol’ same ol’. Think of it as recess.

Not enough time had elapsed for UPS to get far. Waiting for the light to change at the Intersection of 6th Street SE and Elliott Ave, I tried to predict which roads he might be on and mentally drew a rectangular border around them. Intending to navigate in a grid-like pattern within the imaginary boundary, I rounded the block making the intersection of 6th and Monticello the starting point of my hunt.

In the course of my exploration, I periodically glimpsed UPS as he went by on other roads. Each time I’d cut over as efficiently as possible to where I spotted him, make it my new starting point, and, traveling in the same direction as him, begin the pattern-tracking procedure over again. We crossed paths, just out of reach of each other, I don’t know, four, maybe five, times. We hadn’t strayed far from the vicinity of the Task Force office and I was starting to get the sense it was less like he was on general patrol and more like he was specifically patrolling for me. Weird.

One more circle around, next thing I knew he’d ended up behind me. Uh-oh. What were the odds he hadn’t wound up there on purpose? The thing was, I mean, I knew what I was doing and he knew what he was doing but, considering the circumstances, we didn’t really have any way of knowing what each other was doing.

Still unsure, and not wanting to overreact, I concocted an easy test. He’d clearly been looping around close to the JADE building. I’d leave the immediate area and if he did the same by following me -- an escort if you will -- the entire way then I’d know I’d been his target. If he dropped me on the outskirts, or sooner, then I’d chalk it up to coincidence. In two turns, I learned two things. One: That it may be coincidental? Beyond wishful thinking on my part. Two: He was a They.

They stuck to me better than glue. Down Ridge Street we went. We got to an intersection and at first I was going to get in the left lane but changed my mind and went with the center one. In the rearview mirror I saw UPS and his passenger coming up behind me. UPS put on his left blinker. There was plenty of room in the left lane for them to surpass me. I got an eerie feeling they wouldn’t be doing that. Whatever their intentions, my instincts screamed that I absolutely did not want them stopping directly next to me.

From my standstill I scooted over to the far right lane. A little too late I thought of using another vehicle as a blockade -- my car bucked from my abruptly jamming on its brakes. Through the gap between cars I looked over at UPS and that’s when I saw it. My brain eliminated everything my eyes were taking in apart from the camera the guy along for the ride was holding. Literally all went black but that object.

I dropped my head at a painfully kooky angle and put my hand on top of it. I laughed in sheer disbelief. I honestly could not believe it! Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not what they were doing, it’s how they were doing it. I could conceive of something like, say, them covering the perimeter where JADE operates with high-tech video surveillance equipment. But hanging out a car window with a hand-held camera? That’s simplistic. That’s the kind of thing I do -- and only because it’s either that or nothing.

I Hate having my picture taken. I hate it, hate it, hate it. I’m ugly and unphotogenic. I don’t even bother wearing make-up that’s how unattractive I am. That’s on any regular day. That particular day I had bangs and some serious period-provoked acne-face. Bearing all that in mind, when I saw their camera I panicked.

I couldn’t think of anything but getting out of there. I hit the gas and instantly swung right. Unfortunately I’d not turned on the road I thought I was turning on. As I drove down the side street, I attempted to pull myself together. Obviously, I thought to myself, whatever photographs they now had of me, they had. What difference did it make if they took one or nine or fifty thousand more?

I veered into a parking area and stopped my car. I doubted they were going to give up on me, so I yanked out my own camera and unbuckled the pouch that holds my audio recording device. The gadget dropped. What else could go wrong? I powered on the camera, tried to adjust it while simultaneously fishing for the fallen item, and observed UPS’s Alero entering the lot. They moved back into a space where I couldn’t see them. An assortment of sedans, vans, and SUVs separated us. I abandoned hope of finding the Olympus recorder and backed out inch by inch until they were in my line of sight.

The detectives and I engaged in a battle of the cameras. I didn’t know what their weapon was capable of but I knew I could fire a hundred billion shots, instantaneously download the images to my laptop, and go at them again if I wanted to. We kept at it briefly. I don’t know how many pictures they got of me or how many I took of them. How long would it go on? It was ridiculous. I thought perhaps victory would appease them. I surrendered by lowering my camera and waving while driving past them.

I don’t know that they could comprehend how much their picture-taking was throwing me off. I tried not to let it bother me but I remained thoroughly disconcerted. I turned right and left the lot.

Not only did they come out after me, their car’s emergency lights went on. What now? I wasn’t speeding. If they intended to stop me, why not do it before? I complied without delay by pulling into another parking lot.

Just UPS approached the driver’s side. I frantically looked over my shoulder for his companion. He’d come up on the right side of my car. Unable to keep an eye on both of them at the same time was scary to me. My whole body started, like, vibrating. I knew once it was in progress, my trembling was only going to get worse. I was somewhat relieved though when UPS’s partner eventually came and stood beside him. It was then when I realized who he was.

They had a for realiously valid reason to pull me over. I’d accidentally gone the wrong way down a one way street. I couldn’t believe I’d done such a thing! Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I think I don’t do dumb things. I do lots of dumb things. It’d take me a month to tell you all the dumb things I’ve done in just a single day. But they’re typically like funny dumb things. Or humbling dumb things. They’re never dangerous dumb things. I could’ve hurt someone. I. Was. Mortified.

To add insult to, fortunately, no injury, I couldn’t find my proof of insurance. I dug under the seats, groped through the glove box, lifted the floor mats… no insurance card. I was really quivering then. You have to understand I am meticulous about being completely legal -- I check my lights; make sure my turn signals work; my stickers are current; carry license, registration, and insurance papers. Ad nauseum.

I reached over the seat into the back to my tool box slash book bin and pulled out a FedEx envelope. I rifled through it. My hands were shaking so bad by then, I resembled a Parkinson’s victim.

I don’t know whether he was doing it to mock me or to point it out to UPS, or both, but in periphery I saw the other fellow mimicking my tremors. I acknowledge his observation; I widened my eyes, nodded my head, and said “very.” He asked what I was nervous about. I merely replied “y’all.” I had no intention of expounding but even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have; the man was speaking before I’d have had the chance to elaborate. “Following us around” he blurted, as if there was something nefarious about that.

When someone has already made up his mind what the answer to his question is, he really needn’t make the dang inquiry. What is it with these law enforcement guys who think they know it all anyway? As yet, I’ve only found one Task Force member who isn’t stuffed full of arrogance.

I laughed and chirped out the technical reality of the moment. “I wasn’t followin’ you. You were followin’ me.” Neither of them had a response for that.

Somewhere during the interaction, UPS expressed gratitude for my cooperating with them. Why would he do that unless he -- they -- expected me to be uncooperative, if not downright belligerent? I suspect there’s one person who’s largely leaving a sour impression of me on them and it’s not I. How can so many people believe the words of their perceived allies even after it contradicts what they experience themselves firsthand?

UPS said he’d take my word that my auto was insured then carrying my license and registration returned to his car with an indication he’d be back momentarily. I took some pictures of him through my side mirror and some of both of them through the back window.

I didn’t want to push my luck, rotten as it was, so I cast aside the camera and rooted throughout my car seeking the missing insurance card. The last time I’d seen it was when Spot pulled me over. Did I forget to get it back from him?

UPS gave me a verbal warning for my moving violation. Had he written me a ticket I would’ve taken it and thanked him for it, that’s how much I deserved one.

I have to say UPS was amazingly nice. Though I’m sure he felt he had all the justification in the world to be horrible to me, he wasn’t. In fact, I don’t think he acted any differently than he had on the prior occasion we’d spoken in person. Even the other man who’d kind of given some static, negative vibes and all that jazz, was not not nice. What a teddy bear!

The officers departed. I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew where my insurance card was. I tore through my car. I called someone I thought could help me and left him a message. I got out and felt under seats and floor mats again. About to give up, from a squatting position on the passenger side I saw a piece of paper trapped in the edge of the glove box. I shoved the card in a book where I store my registration, sent Longhead a text to have him tell UPS I’d found my insurance papers, and drove away.

I called the helpful guy back and left him a message to ignore my previous message, then returned to the first lot where the photography war had taken place and took pictures of the signs indicating the street I’d gone down was one way.

I’d concluded JADE would now be on major alert knowing I was near their turf but I might be able to temporarily rely on them presumably superciliously thinking I’d been adequately chased off. The biggest obstacle in my way today seemed to be my car. I’m passably fit; I could do what I wanted on foot. Approximately two miles from the JADE lot I found a place to park my impediment where it couldn’t legally get towed.

I grabbed a few items I anticipated would be handy, tugged an extra jacket from the back seat, and locked the doors. I set my key on the trunk, put on the spare coat, arranged my materials for easy carry, and set off. I’d made it slightly more than halfway to my goal before my hands got cold. To warm them up, I slid them into my front pockets, Nothing was in them. Nothing. Including no key. I’d mistakenly left it sitting on my car. I sighed. I didn’t trouble myself by running the mile back. What would be the point? Then I’d just be propertyless and out of breath.

No one had stolen my car. I plucked up the key and set off again. Two miles later I arrived just in time to see a group of JADE men load up in Truck’s car and head out. I had to ask: is nothing going to be in my favor today? I made the trek back to where I’d parked and drove off seeking a place to get yummy coffee. I passed UPS on the way; he was all alone in his Alero.

Reinvigorated, I found a brand spanking new setting where I could snoop on JADE. It’s not so ideal after dark, but at night I can practically sit on top of one of the TFOs shoulders without him noticing. Usually, that is. Not on that night. No, on that night I couldn’t get a break to save my life. Either I was in a place where I could see the fellas but they nailed me, or my placement was so good they couldn’t see me because I couldn’t see them.

I would’ve called it quits but, with all those JADErs there, especially at that time of evening, I couldn’t possibly throw in the towel. I had something I was aching to know about and whatever was going on might give me a clue.

As my final effort, I moved my auto into position and waited for… I watched as some boxy red car halted in front of me thus obstructing every millimeter of my view. The driver couldn’t have been parking like that; he was at some loony slant partially in the center of the road. A older man holding a flashlight got out. By his behavior, he was lost. I debated on moving but rationalized a disoriented man wouldn’t be there long enough to validate my relocation. I was wrong.

The wrinkled man went back and forth, from one side of the road to the other, illuminating the numbers on mailboxes or houses while concurrently reading the addresses aloud. Headlights of a vehicle coming from behind us hit him and his ugly car. I thought the approaching driver was slowing because of the man and his respective door-left-ajar auto until it dawned on me that I was staring at Porn Star’s Honda.

The way the day had gone I took it for granted that Porn Star had decelerated because he’d noticed me -- probably hadn’t even picked up on the presence of the aged man. Porn Star wove around the hindrance in the road. Only after Porn Star had come across me did the old man realize he was in the wrong neighborhood and get back in his car and drive away.

Well, having been seen by a JADE detective for, what was it? the millionth time? that day, I couldn’t stay where I was. I scampered off. Over the course of about ten minutes, Porn Star left and Skoal’s Altima vanished and reappeared. I think Porn Star ratted me out and Skoal went and picked up JADE men from elsewhere and brought them back. If that’s what happened, I wouldn’t be getting the clue I needed after all.

I would’ve said “when it rains, it pours” but the notion that merely thinking it might likely spark a gullywasher prevented me from doing so. I’d finally had enough and I didn’t want to be driving home in a thundershower.

Determined that the day would not be a total loss, when I got back to the house I aimed to post on iHeArTEjade a photograph of me taking a picture of them taking a picture of me taking a picture of them. Wouldn’t you know it? My camera had been on the wrong setting.

Out of all the pictures I took, none but eight were decent. I imagine every one they took came out perfectly. I think they should email me some.

As bad as the day seems to have gone, disastrous from beginning to end, truth be told, I wouldn’t change a thing about it. Oh. Except for driving the wrong way down a one way street. That I’d definitely amend.

Once Upon a Time, Long Ago...

SeeSee’s Dodge Charger pulls off in a fuzzy blue distortion. I’m reminded once again that one of the many things adult male Task Force officers and teenage boys have in common is the maniacal way they drive through parking lots. Heaven forbid someone steps off the sidewalk when any one of these guys is behind the wheel.

Once on the road he doesn’t actually seem to be in as big of a hurry. This is a good thing; it may make it easier for me to keep sight of him. I give him plenty of room, slowing down as I notice we’re coming up to a red light. SeeSee and I have met and I definitely don’t want to get too close to him just in case he remembers what I look like. Last thing I want is for him to tell his superhero, Longhead, he caught me following him.

SeeSee pulls into the left turn lane. If he’s paying attention, he probably won’t miss my reluctance to get behind him. Maybe he’ll think I hesitated because I’m lost. I nudge my car up near his.

On the chance he’s looking in his rearview mirror, I lean across the passenger seat as if the stopped traffic has afforded me the opportunity to find something I need. From the corner of my eye I see the light display a green arrow and I sit back up. SeeSee flips on his blinker in the midst of his making the turn.

Still concerned about being seen, I get this brilliant idea to let a car or two get in between us to somewhat cover me. It takes only two blocks before I’m reminded that I’m not as smart as I sometimes like to think I am; SeeSee moves into a right turn lane and seeing as how the other cars go straight, I’m left practically parked in SeeSee’s back seat anyway. Well that worked… not at all.

I can sort of make out his shadow through the heavy back window tinting and from its positioning it appears he’s on his cell phone. Good; distraction. Please don’t let him look back here.

The road we turn on has four lanes and plenty of room. I leave about three car lengths between us. It’s enough of a distance that my fear of losing him and my fear of being spotted by him is bizarrely balanced. I’ve shot several photographs -- accidentally getting one of the sky and streetlights, and one of a portion of my steering wheel. Driving and picture-taking do not go hand-in-hand.

We wind our way through the city. About half the time SeeSee courteously lets me know which way he’s planning to go. He’s using his turn signals roughly fifty percent of when he should… he favors his right blinker, using it the most out of the fifty percent… the left one -- on the rare occasions he uses it -- seems to be like an afterthought in nearly every instance…

It suddenly occurs to me that because I let my mind wander in Minutiaeland, I have no idea how far we’ve gone and I don’t have a clue about the area we’re in. I start worrying if I’m ever going to find my way out or if I’ll be circling around these industrial-type buildings until vultures start circling around me.

Wherever we are, the roads are narrower and the blocks seem shorter. With no feasible way to avoid it, SeeSee and I are bumper-to-bumper both in motion and at several stops. I don’t know if SeeSee is affected by it but there’s no way he can miss the fact that my vehicle has been behind his for a very long time.

It’s hard to think with the drums of my heart beating at full volume. SeeSee is turning left. I turn left. SeeSee is turning left. I turn left. SeeSee is turning left. Three lefts? And a blinker every time? That’s, like, around a block. Umm… yeah. The spigot controlling my adrenaline twists open and in a freak out, I go right instead. Guess I won’t be finding out what he’s up to.

The farther away from SeeSee I get, the more I relax. Now that I’m calm, I think I overreacted. Argh! Curse paranoia! I’m annoyed that I let my imagination run amok and I berate myself for giving up too soon.

For, I swear, the hundredth time, I’ve gotten myself lost in the process of tailing. For, I swear, the hundredth time, I hear eight words roll through my head. I really need to get a city map.

Multiplicity

To reiterate: SeeSee = CC = Carbon Copy. Inside and out this guy is nothing more than a clone of Longhead.

I find that to be even truer today than yesterday -- than the day I wrote that -- than the day I first thought that.

Recently I followed SeeSee from the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement office to the Albemarle County Police Department. This was after I’d, unseen, shadowed SeeSee and Longhead earlier.

I’ve got a new, let’s say, rather unconventional way to tail these guys without them noticing; it works but it is so not easy, at all.

Anyhow, once SeeSee left the Task Force building by himself I resorted to my traditional means of following. In other words, I pulled up right behind him. I figured with me driving down the road in my (now infamous, I guess) car, blatantly holding a camera up in the windshield, I’d pretty much thrown covertness right out the window. I took enough pictures in a couple of minutes to make me happy, and he went his way and I went mine.

Do you know what that… that… that invaluable instrument of the ATF did? Oh. My. Gosh. I’s startin’ to think what I seen on teevee ain’t fo’ real. ‘Cause on teevee, y’all know they's always showin’ how those fellers from dif’rent A-gence-cees don’t git along? I’s tellin’ ya, it jes ain’t true. No siree. Know what I reckon change ma mind? You got it. SeeSee went whinin' about me to a FBI guy! Just. Like. Longhead. Can’t any of these hotshots handle things on their own?

Ah, well. It so happens that his pal at the FBI is one I actually like and respect. It also happens that my poor car is in dire need of a bath thus most of the images I got of SeeSee’s Dodge are slightly less than perfect.

Too Funny!

Today I heard that someone got a virus on his computer and he's blaming iHeArTEjade for it.



I'm not sure if the accusation was strategically designed to prevent pro-JADE Law Enforcement from ever again perusing this site or if the claim was merely made by an overdramatic computer-illiterate twit.



Regardless, since I'm apparently the only one reading iHeArTEjade anymore, now I can go back to publishing whatever I want.

What Happens When...

a JADE Task Force Detective looks right at you while you're taking his picture?

You toss the camera in the grass and accidentally get this crazy upside-down photograph of a JADE Task Force Detective's vehicle:

Ever Wonder What's Coming Next?

Yeah, me too.

Preparations Prior To Entry

No doubt the Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement Task Force utilizes site-specific images so its members can identify and better visualize the areas where they’re about to execute search warrants.

Programs which supply satellite and aerial photography -- think Google Earth -- are important when constructing operational plans for men about to conduct a raid. Printouts of such can be presented during briefings and further give a more realistic view of what officers will be facing and navigating.

Snapshots of streets, vehicles, and homes, among other things, are taken by operatives in the Task Force and provided to concerned parties. If JADE is particularly adept at exploiting other sources, they may even discover a handful of pictures of their objective house’s interior and sketches which detail the floor plan of a residence.

If JADE is really lucky, they’ll have at minimum one informant who can describe to them things ranging from position of furniture to location of drugs and weapons. No cop wants to get shot because he tripped over something unseen or oddly-placed.